#childbirth but rather non-graphic

[wikluk]

Today's chapter is a little bit earlier!

WHAT CAN I SAY EXCEPT– surprise?

#wiktoria's fanfiction corner #encanto fanfic #fanfic update #my writing #something unexpected #julieta madrigal #agustin madrigal #julieta x agustin #alma madrigal #humour #some swearing #childbirth but rather non-graphic #original character #well weLL WELL

[glitterquadricorn]

Amélie - Pierre Gasly

Summary: Baby Gasly wants to come earlier than planned. Pairing: Pierre Gasly x Pregnant!Reader Warning(s): that red flag of the Japanese gp, indirectly mentions Jules' crash in 2014, FIA slander, google translate usage, labor, pregnancy, childbirth (non-graphic). If I missed something, let me know. Word Count: 1,586 (instgram au post not included)

a/n: It's been a hot minute since I wrote for a real person and It's been months since I posted anything, so forgive me if this is awful. I'm trying my best.

a/n2: I've never been pregnant, nor do I plan to, fuck them kids, so forgive me if anything inaccurate.

BIG FAT THANK YOU TO @charlewiss. They helped me get unstuck! This fic shall be dedicated to them! :)

---

Pacing around the living room, hands on her waist, she breathed through a contraction. Once it passed, she noted it was quite stronger and more painful than the previous ones she felt throughout the day. Her due date was only three weeks away, so the contractions shouldn’t be this intense, right? Both Pierre’s parents and hers aren’t scheduled to fly out until a week before the baby is due and she didn’t have any friends staying with her, so if her water broke, she’d have to find a way to the hospital herself. A new fear unlocked.

She looked over to the TV just in time to see Pierre drive past a tractor that was on the track. The weather already made her feel uncomfortable prior to the race starting, but seeing just how close he was to hitting said tractor made her heart launch into her throat. Did the FIA not remember what happened in 2014? Were they trying to have a repeat? What she finds funny is they speak so much about driver’s safety and it being their top priority yet have tractors on the track while the race is still ongoing. They should’ve just canceled the race after Carlos crashed out if they wanted to practice what they preach.

The FIA collectively as a whole is her 13th reason.

A sharp pain shot across her belly, followed by a gush of liquid running down her legs. It was times like this where she wished she had someone with her. 

“No, no, no. This can’t be happening.” 

Moving carefully around the puddle at her feet, she frantically reached for her phone, calling Pierre hoping he answers. But of course he doesn’t, so she tries again and again. Nothing. He’s most likely doing post-race media. The next person she tried calling was his performance coach, Pyry. Fortunately for her, he answered.

All in one breath, “MYWATERBROKE.” 

“What was that?”

“My water broke, Pyry. I tried calling Pierre, but he didn’t answer.”

“Are you sure?”

“I know I didn’t just piss myself, Pyry,” She snapped. There was some shuffling in the background before the phone was handed over to Pierre.

“I’ll be on the first flight out, mon ange (my angel).” 

“It’s too early, Pierre.” She cried, “They're not allowed to be this early.”

“Everything will be okay. I’m going as fast as I can.”

“Please hurry.” 

Pierre’s heart ached hearing y/n’s quiet whines of pain. If he could, he’d take the pain away from her and put it all on him. As he left the circuit, he had one thought and one thought only; I’m going to be a dad soon!

Meanwhile, all the way in a hospital in Italy, y/n adjusted herself on the rather small hospital bed, trying to get comfortable. The contractions were practically on top of each other, and the last time a nurse checked her she was about four centimeters dilated. It was shaping up to be a long night and a long labor. 

“That contraction was off the charts!” Charlotte remarked. After settling in, y/n called Charlotte and without asking her to, Charlotte dropped everything and drove the three and a half hours from Monaco to Milan to be with her. She also did her a favor by calling both her and Pierre’s families.

“And I felt every second.” she winced, “Is there any update on where Pierre is?”

Charlotte pulls out her phone, tracking his flight. “He’s making his way towards Beijing right now.”

“I want him here.”

“I know you do, but don’t worry about it right now. Get some rest, you're going to need it.”

The sound of thumping from the monitor lulled her to sleep. After a couple hours worth of sleep, the nurse on call woke her up to check her dilation. She went from a four to a six. When the nurse saw the frustration on her face, she recommended taking a walk around the room or the labor and delivery floor. 

Taking their advice, her and Charlotte took laps around the nurse’s station. On the fourth lap, she turned to Charlotte, “Did I ever tell you how I told Pierre I was pregnant?”

“No. I don’t believe you did.”

Ever since the first positive pregnancy test, she thought of how she could tell Pierre. She didn’t want nor need anything big and elaborate. The more simple the better. Balloons in the shape of a pacifier? That would be great, but she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to suck the helium out if it, which is the fun part. There was also maybe the thought of sticking the positive test in a box full of grass from an Easter basket, but that can get messy and she didn’t feel like cleaning that up.

Just then a proverbial light bulb went off above her head. A simple card with a nice little note written on the inside. But then she remembered there was an unused birthday card in the drawer in her office desk. Heading off to her office, she opened the drawer in the middle, searching for the card, and once in her hand, she reached for a pen and began writing the note.

Dear Daddy, 

I am small, not yet born. I am a blessing, a gift from an unseen friend. I’ll bring you endless amounts of joy, love and laughter. I love you and momma oh so much. I can’t wait to meet you.

Love, 

Baby Gasly.

Her hand softly ran over her lower belly. She refused to believe there was a whole new life inside her. But then again, she could. Pierre and her could never really keep their hands off each other and there has been once or twice where they were reckless as far as not protecting themselves. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened.

The sound of keys in the door alerted her to Pierre coming home. “Mon amour (my love), I’m home.”

“Hey handsome! I got something for you.”

“Oh?” Pierre’s gaze went to the pink, glittery birthday card in her hand. “You know my birthday was weeks ago, right?”

“I know, but you should open and read it.”

He started reading the card as he was told. As his eyes scanned the words on the card, the smirk that was on his face turned into a broad smile. And when he got to the finish, his head snapped up.

“Are you serious? Please tell me you aren’t joking?”

“No, I’m not joking. We really are pregnant!”

Pierre wrapped his arms around her in a hug, careful not to squeeze her too tight. He pulled away, resting his forehead on hers, “Je t'aime, y/n. Je t'aime.”

“I love you too, Pierre.”

She and Charlotte went back to her room once she said she had felt immense pressure in her pelvic area. A nurse came in to check her and announced that she was fully dilated and ready to push. 

“But Pierre isn’t here! I want him here! I can’t do this without him!”

Charlotte grabbed y/n’s hand, “While it’s unfortunate that Pierre isn’t here, but I am. You can do this, I know you can. Now, let’s have ourselves a baby, yeah?”

Nurses came in and out of the room, prepping and getting things ready. The doctor followed soon after.

“On the next contraction, I want you to take a deep breath in and push downward, holding it for about ten seconds. Okay?”

A familiar pain washed over her, and she did as she was told: she pushed. Her attention kept going towards the door, hoping Pierre would walk through. But she didn’t have time to think about him not showing up because another contraction hit and she pushed through it.

“That was a good push, y/n.” the doctor smiled, “The baby's head is out. All I need is one real good push. Think you can do that for me?”

Nodding her head, she took in a breath and gave one final push. Suddenly, the pain and pressure was relieved and a loud, piercing cry rang throughout the room. 

“It’s a girl!” the doctor announced. They placed the screaming baby on her chest.

“Hi! I’m your momma,” she said, tears rolling out of her eyes. “And this is your godmother, Charlotte.”

“What? Why? I mean, I’m honored.”

“Charlotte, you’re one of my best friends. You also dropped everything you were doing and drove all the way here to be by my side. I feel that naming you as the godmother is well deserved. Besides, Pierre and I were planning on naming you and Charles the godparents, anyway.”

“I- thank you. This means a lot.”

The two friends stared down at the beautiful baby with tufts of dark blonde hair. Her eyes were a dark blue, hopefully getting to the same shade of her father’s. They also had Pierre’s nose and lips. This baby essentially looked exactly like Pierre.

Hours later, the door to y/n’s hospital room opened, and Pierre stepped in. She raised her finger to mouth, quieting him so as to not wake Charlotte who’s asleep on the couch at the end of the bed. 

He sat next to her on the bed, “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“You were on your way, and that’s all that matters.” 

“Can I hold them?”

“You can hold her all you want daddy.”

“Her? It’s a girl?” Pierre carefully picked his daughter from y/n’s arms, “mon petit ange (my little angel).”

liked by yourinstagram, charlesleclerc, charlottesine and 425,267 others.

pierregasly: Amélie Antoinette Gasly.

view all comments

yourinstagram: I can't even get mad that she looks exactly like you.

↳ pierregasly: thank you for giving me such a beautiful little girl 💖

danielricciardo: DADDY GASLY!!!!!

charlesleclerc: Can't wait to spoil my godchild rotten.

↳ charlottesine: OUR*

yukitsunoda: my little sister :)

lewishamilton: Congrats you guys!

AlphaTauri: The newest member to the team! ↳ yourinstagram: you better get her alpha tauri contract ready! I reckon she'll be better driver than her father @pierregasly 🤣 ↳ pierregasly: 😒😒

sebastianvettel: Congratulations! If you ever need advice don't hesitate to call.

liked by pierregasly, alphatauri, mickschumacher and 252,126 others.

yourinstagram: You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

view all comments

pierregasly: you make me happy when skies are grey. ↳ yourinstagram: you'll never know dear how much I love you ↳ pierregasley: please don't take my sunshine away.

---

I don't think this was too horrible for not posting in a while. ALL PICTURES ARE NOT MINE. CREDIT TO THE OWNERS.

Tagging:

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @sergeantjbuckybarnes @patzammit @yagirlmexic @awkwardfangirl2014 @beckieandhertardis @tinycyberhacker @streetghostfighter07 @distant-illusions @alisoncdariel @1awesomeash @nocturnalherb16 @thisismysecrethappyplace @rainysuitcaseprunegiant @geeksareunique @stressedandbandobessed7771 @xshinytrashcanx @finallyforgotten @keenmarvellover @inkybird @heshewumbo11 @shadow-dixon @mrspeacem1nusone @augustvandyne @harleyquinnpuddin @drayshadow @rue-cimon @lendeluxe @alexxavicry @lyeatoalinatoheaven

@charlewiss & @micks-afterglow

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine

[angelicadamposting]

Missy Misery OC Background

Basic Info

Name: Missy Misery (Formerly Misty Landry) Species: Sinner / Mortal Soul / Overlord* (Formerly Human) Physical Age At Death: Mid-Thirties (38) Gender: Trans Woman Sexuality: Gray Asexual Birth Date: est. 1900 Death Year: 1933 Height: 5'2 or 157.5 cm MBTI: ESTP * = Overlord of Obsession (&/Or Love) art commissioned from @w0nderous again !! tysm for drawing her :3

(note: this ended up much longer than I realized it would)

Likes

Acting

Music

Singing

Sewing & Crochet

Tea

Red Wine

Romance Novels

Graphic 'Design' / Art

Painting

Dancing (Swing Dancing Particularly)

Dislikes

Being Alone

Being Belittled or Disrespected

Clutter

Black Coffee

Her Schedule Being Changed

People with Poor Time Management Skills

Open Windows

Being Touched Without Express Permission

I want to preface this with the fact I myself am trans

(CW:: some tr4nsph0bi!c language/references, historical fiction, light mentions/references to d0m3st!c ab*se, references to m*rder & c4nn!b4l!sm,)

Backstory(before hell/death)

(as short form as I can manage. apologies for anything feeling empty or like its missing something due to that)

Missy was born in 1895 in Baton Rouge, Louisiana as (Marcel) Misty Landry to an alcoholic father and mother who would die shortly after childbirth. She grew up being raised by her father to be like him and work within the agricultural realm of work-- Much to her dismay.

From a young age and when radios were popularized, beginning to pop up in houses across the states, Missy was enthralled with the music and talking people from within the box. Music inspired her from a young age to go against the grain and figure out who she was- not who her father 'needed' her to be.

In high school, she began to understand that she was a woman. The revelation was jarring, and a secret she kept close. Many things were not accepted where she grew up, and being different wasn't one.

Her father, while unaware of her newfound identity, did anything but respect his child. Noticing whenever Missy had begun practicing singing and dance instead of her household chores, only to ridicule her for being a pansy and some much worse insults. When he drank, he'd somehow be nicer- and weaker. Something Missy would take advantage of when committing patricide for her first homicide after enduring his mistreatment her entire life up to said point. It wasn't done out of anger, or heat of the moment- no. It was planned, calculated, and thought over for weeks before she took the opportunity to escape from beneath his thumb. The taste of his blood was not one she'd ever forget. As bitter and horrid as it was, the satisfaction it brought her was more than enough.

Missy had been closeted the majority of her life until her father 'passed away' when she was 21. She inherited his debt and responsibilities as the "man of the house" and the last of her family line. Rather than pick up the mantle, live in the closet for the rest of her days, and die unhappy- She moved several towns over to New Orleans and began to present more femininely whenever she could, calling herself Misty when she did so that anytime she did have to present as her legal/birth identity there'd be little to no association. Essentially living a double life. As Marcel, she would work as a men's tailor, and as Misty, she'd sing from bar to bar. That is until she found one bar that regularly asked her to return.

It was at this particular speakeasy that Missy would first meet Mimzy, another performer at the bar. The two became quick friends, and truthfully Mimzy was Missy's first 'girl friend.' (non-romantic) Mimzy was the first person in life to learn of Missy's gender identity, and surprisingly the first person to accept her for who she was. Mimzy helped inspire Missy to go on as herself, giving her confidence and helping her find her own voice.

It was around this time that Missy would first hear Alastor's radio broadcasts. By total chance, flipping through stations as she sat in her kitchen preparing a pot of tea, his voice poured through the speakers and ignited her interest. She quickly began to tune into all of his broadcasts, even adjusting her schedule to ensure she didn't miss any time he was on air. To put it frankly, she became somewhat of a near-obsessive 'fangirl' if anything even without knowing the man behind the charismatic voice and fake mid-Atlantic accent.

What Missy was unaware of though, was that soon after she began listening to him- Alastor would soon see her sing at the bar after one of Mimzy's stellar performances. And while he was nowhere near as intrigued by her as she was by him, he did soon ask Mimzy about her little friend. Mimzy, being the great friend she was, was eager to introduce the two- seeing as she knew just how much Missy was obsessed with Al's radio show. Missy easily hid how she instantly recognized his voice, greeting him politely like he was any other customer. And yet, he asked her to dance in between her stage times.

After that night, Missy continued to make her efforts to listen to each of his broadcasts. And now knowing who he was behind the radio, she may have begun to take extra steps to see him more often. At the same time, Alastor seemingly dropped by the speakeasy Missy performed at more often. Several weeks of the two getting to know one another, and watching one another from afar in their own ways passed before Alastor asked Missy if she would be interested in officially starting a courtship. It was this conversation that led to Alastor learning of her gender identity, and much to her surprise, he didn't care.

The two would begin a relationship that to half of the public, looked like just two friends, but to the circle of folk who frequented the speakeasy- everyone knew the two as the happy couple they had become. Of course, there were still men who'd come and get belligerently drunk, throwing themselves at Missy or Mimzy- and most of them ended up Missy's victims.

It wasn't until Missy and Alastor moved in with one another that they learned of each other's homicidal tendencies as it grew more difficult to hide. Instead of rocking the boat, this revelation strengthened their bond because each of them had a similar yet odd moral code regarding their victims. Soon, emotionally tied the knot despite the laws surrounding marriage. Having a small, private ceremony over a victim with a ring exchange.

After many years in a near-perfect romantic partnership, in 1933, their lives were taken. Side by side while hiding a body and shot by a hunter in the distance.

Backstory cont. (In Hell to Pilot)

(TECHNICALLY, like Evangeline/Eva Lean, Missy has two timelines/au's. So, bear with me, especially regarding the current story is based on theories that pertain to Alastor's 7-year absence in hell and are subject to change over time to fit closer to canon when the truth is revealed)

Alastor and Missy appeared in Hell together, and nearly instantaneously her beloved made a deal of which the details could never be shared with her. The contract gave Alastor his eldrich powers and allowed him to quickly rise to the power level of an overlord. Missy, on the other hand, struggled with her new form and powers. Feeling her control and strength wane depending on the amount of love she felt and received- on top of growing stronger by taking down current overlords. It didn't worry her, though. Knowing and believing as long as she was side by side with Alastor, all would be fine.

Eventually, as Alastor grew into his true role as the Radio Demon, an overlord in his own right, Missy had become the overlord of Obsession- and love, by her own claims. The two had a strained relationship with Vox during this period, which would eventually end dramatically. The main true 'friend' the couple shared in Hell that shared in their desire for power and rank was Rosie, the Cannibalism Overlord. She understood Missy better than anyone else in Hell, besides her beloved.

After decades together in Hell, Missy awoke one day with no sign of her beloved. No note, nothing to give her a sign he'd gone or would return. And her powers seemed to wane from the realization alone. An overwhelming panic set into her, rushing out into the streets of Pantegram City in a desperate search for him. Her search ended with no clues, and she returned empty-handed- all alone for the first time in decades.

(Timeline split! For lack of a better term, consider this the Alastor Timeline.)

She managed as well as she could on her own, although the other Overlords began to notice the shift in power and Alastor's absence. Putting a target on her back, and sending her on the defense. She fought tooth and nail to keep her rank and powers without leaning on another demon for assistance. Luckily, Rosie remained kind to her and became the one comfort Missy could hold onto.

She moved into the Cannibal District and continued her operations out of a new home. Even bought a bar downtown near Rosie's tea shop, running it as a way to make money and hold a base of her work. She performed on stage for patrons, hired staff, and made deals with desperate sinners in the back rooms. The overlord of obsession offered 'love/relationship advice' and her contracts would give her clients the ability to negate unrequited love- something not even Valentino's love potion could do, being nothing more than a glamorized bottle of aphrodisiac spit from the moth man.

Missy held onto hope that one day Alastor would return to her, always looking for him when she walked down the streets and switching radio channels whenever she listened to music- just to check if he'd come through.

One evening, however, Missy was returning to her home when she passed a shop window with televisions stacked for passersby to watch. The news was airing, and the suggestion of a 'Happy Hotel' was being spoken about by the princess of Hell herself. A quite curious, almost humorous notion to Missy. She brushed the concept out of her mind as she chuckled and continued on- unaware that the hotel could have been the very thing to bring her and her beloved back together again.

(Okay, so returning to where the timeline splits! For lack of a better term, consider this the Vox Timeline.)

She managed as well as she could on her own, although the other Overlords began to notice the shift in power and Alastor's absence. Putting a target on her back, and sending her into hiding.

After a year into Alastor's disappearance, Vox found the sinner. Grinning madly, he offered an outstretched hand, and deal to assist her. For her soul, he'd grant her greater powers, a job as an actress or star of the stage to attain fans and achieve a dream she didn't realize she had. Of course, Missy was fully aware Vox was likely doing this for two main reasons and neither were to help her. The little rabbit demon knew Vox likely only wished to hold something over Alastor's head if he ever returned and to have another soul to own. She hesitated to accept, but he ensured her she'd have a place to live- safe from other overlords and even the exterminations. She'd have been dumb to refuse, after all, if Alastor had the right to make a deal with some unknown being, why couldn't she make one with Vox?

Subsequently, Missy moved into a room at the VoxTek Tower to get to and from the filming sets more easily. Quickly falling into her new role as a star actress in film and stage, as if she was always meant for this. Nearly every motion picture or musical featuring the Overlord of Obsession was a hit, resulting in her fame and fans growing. As this occurred, Vox's behavior towards her became more familiar. Even teaching her more about technology, since she'd avoided much new tech due to her husband's distaste for it all. Surprisingly, she was quite skilled with graphic design, learned how to code, and became Vox's main assistant in case things went awry with him.

Velvette and Valentino noticed the way Vox seemed to favor her and kept her close. Resulting in some teasing, but mostly leading Velvette and Missy to become friends. Velvette enjoyed teaching the older woman about modern slang, technology, and social media's she didn't understand. Thinking it hilarious how she mispronounced what was common internet lingo for the social media overlord. Valentino on the other hand, tried to push Missy into trying out a different kind of acting- one she was not comfortable with in the slightest. The rabbit demon and moth had quite a frustrating dynamic, Missy making fun of him and shooting both him and his requests down, only for Valentino to complain to Vox that his 'pet' was being mean.

All in all, despite their vast differences, Missy ended up getting along quite well with the V's. Growing particularly close to Vox and Velvette, even if she felt in the back of her mind a gnawing concern for what Alastor would say if he saw her now.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanart #oc: missy misery #oc intro #oc info #oc artwork #oc x canon #oc backstory #oc community #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin oc #hazbin original character #hazbin #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor x oc #oc x character #hazbin art #hellaverse oc #hellaverse #oc art #ocs #original character #alastor hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel #vox x oc #oc x alastor #ocxcanon #canon x oc

[foundtherightwords]

Love in a Storm - Chapter 9

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham (Regency AU)

Summary: A devastating loss threatens the happy marriage of Edward and Christine Munson, Lord and Lady Hurtsfield. However, when Edward is accused of a crime he didn't commit, Christine has to set her grief aside and embark on a perilous journey to prove her husband's innocence.

Warnings: childbirth, stillbirth, infertility, angst, false accusation, wrongful imprisonment, legal drama, some violence (non-graphic), some smut (non-explicit)

Chapter warnings: brief mention of blood

Chapter word count: 3.1k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Sleep might be the prisoner's release, but Edward would not waste these precious minutes in sleep, not now when he had Christine in his arms. The bed was so narrow that she had to practically lie on top of him, but he didn't mind. It was too dark in the cell for him to really see her, as the light from the corridor outside couldn't reach through the thick door, so instead he committed to memory all the tiny details of how she felt against him, her skin smooth and warm under his hands, her hair soft and tickling on his neck, her fingers moving under his shirt to gently trace the nooks of his collarbone, her pulse beating quietly in time with his, her voice calling to him like an invocation.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you... did you blame your mother for keeping the secret about Jane? Are you angry with her for her affair?"

Edward had been asking himself these questions ever since he met Jane, but hadn't wanted to dwell on them for too long. After all, what would be the point? Now, though, he was glad that Christine was giving him a chance to voice his thoughts out loud.

"If I was still a child, perhaps," he said slowly. "But I believe she would've told me eventually, had she not passed away so soon. Did you remember what I told you about how she died?" Christine nodded against his chest. "I remember, a few years before that, she had been so ill she had to be sent away. I didn't know where, or what her illness was, only that she came back looking worse. That must have been when she gave birth to Jane." He sighed. "I'm only sorry she had to bear that pain alone. And I'm glad that she had known love with Jane's father, no matter how briefly." He meant it. He felt no loyalty to his father, and he wanted his mother to have some happiness, especially when he thought about how happy he and Christine had been—were, Edward reminded himself, they were still happy, in spite of all the troubles. They were happy now, lying in each other's arms, forgetting the world outside for the time being.

Christine sighed, her breath hot on his chest. "I love you, Edward," she said. "Have I told you that?"

Edward felt a twinge in his heart that was both pleasant and painful. He and Christine had never been big on vocal declarations of love. They both agreed that gestures spoke much louder than words, and would much rather show their love than say it. But he understood how Christine was feeling, so overwhelmed with emotions that there was no other way but to speak it out loud. He told her, "You don't have to."

"Well, I want to." She propped herself up with her elbows on either side of his head and dropped little kisses all over his face. "I love you, I love you, I love you. And I shall do whatever it takes to free you. I promise."

He put his hand on the back of her head, drawing her down to him so he could return the kisses with one of his own, long and deep. "Don't put too much strain on yourself, sweetheart," he said. "Let Murray do his job."

"Supposing... supposing he fails?"

And there it was, the horrible black beast looming on the horizon, threatening to tear them apart. He had tried not to dwell on it, to only focus on the matters at hand - finding Jane, getting through the trial. But now, with only one day of the trial left, the beast seemed more real than ever.

"Murray told you the possible outcomes, did he not?" he asked, and Christine nodded. In a morbidly selfish way, Edward would almost prefer to be hanged, because at least then he wouldn't have to face the terrible future of a life without his wife, which would be the case should he get transported. But he could never tell Christine that. "Then we shall discuss it after the—the sentencing. It's no use wearing yourself out fretting about it now."

Christine put her head back down on his chest for a moment. "What if there is—another way?"

"What other way?" When she didn't answer right away, he prompted, "Christine?"

"There is something I must tell you."

It sounded ominous. Edward tried to swallow his fear. "What is it?"

"I went to see Hauxwell." Christine's voice was quiet, muffled against his chest, as if she was frightened he was going to be angry with her.

"And...?"

"He said he could convince Lord Sidmouth to drop the charges against you, on the condition that—that—"

"What?"

Christine took a deep breath. "That I lay with him."

Edward bolted up. "Bastard!"

"That's what I said to him as well."

Edward held on to Christine, afraid that if he let go, Joshua Craven might snatch her out of his hands. His blood boiled with wrath, though whether the wrath was directed at Joshua, for being such a swine, or at himself, for placing his wife in such a humiliating position, he did not know. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he said, burying his face in her hair. "I'm so sorry. If I hadn't been such a fool, you wouldn't have to go through any of this. This is all my fault. I deserve to be hanged just for this—"

"Shh! Don't." Christine put her fingers to his mouth, then replaced them with her lips. In that kiss, he could feel all of her grace and her understanding, and it only twisted the knife deeper into his guilty conscience. "You said to make my own decision about him," she said, once they pulled apart again. "I did, and it was a mistake. I don't blame you. I only told you because I don't wish to be any secret between us."

Her kind words reminded him that they were in this plight because he'd decided to keep secrets from her in the first place. "I could kill him," he growled.

"I did take care of him, don't worry."

"How? What did you do?"

He felt her shaking with laughter in his arms. "I introduced my knee to his groin."

Edward didn't know whether to laugh or to be horrified that his gentle wife knew how to do such a thing, but he had to admit, the idea of the arrogant Duke of Hauxwell brought to his knees—quite literally—was gratifying. He laughed along with her.

"I was so disgusted with him, my limbs seemed to take on a life of their own," she said apologetically.

"I'm sure. Where did you even learn how to do that?" he asked.

"I've been accompanying the Misses Hargrove to all sorts of places, my love. Those women we met may not have enough to feed their children, but when it comes to defending themselves from drunken husbands... I would have to be very dull indeed not to learn a thing or two from them."

"Oh, dear God. I must remember never to cross you."

She giggled again, and the familiar, innocuous sound brought him such a precious and poignant pleasure that he wanted to cry.

"Did I do the right thing, though?" she asked, after she had sobered up. "Not kneeing him, but refusing his proposal, I mean."

Edward sensed that this was the real reason she'd told him about her meeting with Hauxwell. A part of her was still holding on to the hope that Hauxwell might be able to help them, and was blaming herself for not taking the chance when she could. No, he would not have her agonize over that. "Why, did you think it was the right thing?"

"At the time, yes. But now—"

"Then yes," he said firmly. He slipped his fingers under her chin and gently lifted her face up so she would look him in the eye, though in the gloom of the cell, he could only see her eyes sparkle like two jewels. "If you thought it was right, then it was right. How could I live with myself if I knew you had to degrade yourself to free me?"

"But even if I had taken him up on his offer, you wouldn't have blamed me?"

He didn't hesitate. "If you had, then I would've believed that you had a good reason to have done so. I trust your judgment. Don't ever doubt it."

She leaned against his chest and let out a long sigh, a heavy burden apparently lifted from her shoulder, and yet again his heart broke for her and raged at his own folly.

"If I can get out of here," he whispered, half to himself, "I promise, you will never have to worry about anything ever again..."

"Not worry, while being married to you?" she replied, with a rueful but affectionate smile. "I wouldn't have it any other way, my love."

He didn't know how long they sat like that, until the cold seeping in from the stone walls reminded him of where they were.

"You must go," he said. "The guards must have drunk up your bribe by now."

With an effort, he removed his arms from around her, but he couldn't relinquish her entirely. Not yet. He helped her fix her hair up, slipped the sleeves of her chemise and the straps of her stays up her shoulders, redid all the buttons on the back of her bodice, and smoothed down her skirts, all the while letting his hands and lips linger over her, memorizing her feel and taste and scent, trying not to think this might be the last time he held her.

Christine picked up her hat and removed her cloak from the door. Just as the guards' footsteps, a little unsteady now, rang out in the hallway outside, she whirled around and branded Edward's mouth and his heart with a searing kiss. Hearing the key clattering in the lock, he had to pry her fingers from the front of his shirt. "Go," he whispered.

"Time's up, milady," one of the guards announced, throwing the door open.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she murmured, nuzzling into Edward's neck for a moment before pushing him away and sweeping out of the cell with a look back, as though afraid she wouldn't have the strength to leave if she remained for a moment longer.

But she was strong, strong enough to shoulder all that life threw at her. Why hadn't he seen it? Time and again, she had been his rock. When they first married, she had braved storms and flood and landslides to come to his aid. When they lost their child, her words had seen them both through the grief. He had abandoned her to chase after some dream of changing the world, and still she stood by him, without a word of reproach. He fancied himself her knight in shining armor, but it was he that needed saving, not she. He had been too foolish or too arrogant to accept it. Now, watching her back retreating through the tiny window of his cell, Edward vowed to always trust her, truly trust her, from now on... though, considering his predicament, he may not have long to follow through on that vow.

He sighed and lay down on the bed, trying to comfort himself with nothing else but Christine's scent still lingering about the bedclothes and the memory of their lovemaking.

***

Christine walked out of the gates of Coldbath Fields Prison with a much lighter heart and lighter steps than when she'd gone in. Despite her satisfaction at kicking Joshua down, the interview with him had left her distraught, as she thought she had ruined their one remaining chance to save Edward. But now that fear had been lifted. Edward did not blame her. As for the trial the next day, she felt she had the strength to face it now. Edward had given her that strength, and she believed, no, she knew she had given him strength as well. Much like Antaeus whose strength was renewed by touching the Earth, she and Edward took their strength from each other, from their love. And no matter what happened, they had this night. Even if this was their last night together, even if she'd never see him again, it would be enough to nourish her for a lifetime. It had to be.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that it took her a while after exiting the gates to notice that Owens was nowhere in sight. She realized, with embarrassment, that she had no idea how long she'd stayed with Edward. An hour? Two hours? Perhaps Owens had become impatient and repaired to a nearby pub. But she couldn't imagine that the butler would leave his post. Edward had once said Owens was like a dog - once he'd gotten his teeth into something, it would be a hard job forcing him to let go.

Perhaps Owens had gone to secure a cab, since the area was quite remote, with no carriage frequenting its empty streets. And they were awfully empty. There was no other soul about, and no sound of life either, no wheels rattling on the road, no children crying or dogs barking in the distance. Christine drew her coat closer around herself. It was a rather balmy night in late April, but the solitude of the place was bringing out goosebumps all over her body. After looking up and down the road that ran in front of the prison and still seeing no sign of Owens, she started walking toward Clerkenwell Green, the center of the district, hoping to encounter the butler or a cab, or preferably both, along the way.

Going past Coldbath Square, she headed down the long but narrow road leading to the Green. As she walked, Christine kept her eyes peeled and her ears strained for any strange movement or sound, but all she could see was the stretch of road ahead, steeped in the uncertain light of the gas lamps. Though warehouses and storerooms lined the street, they were all shut up for the night and merely emphasized the isolation of the place. Her soft boots made little noise on the stone pavement, and the only sounds she could hear were her own heavy breathing and the swishing of her dress and coat. Those two familiar demons, dread and anxiety, were back, settling in a sheen of cold sweat on her skin and a prickle in the pit of her stomach that was growing stronger with each step. Where was Owens? Had something befallen him? Could Creel have followed them here?

At the thought of Creel, dread turned her blood into ice. It was folly, trying to walk into town. She had better return to the prison and ask the governor or one of the guards to find her a cab. Yes, that would be wise. She turned on her heel and went back the way she'd come, quickening her pace to get out from this menacing gloom. Her mind refused to be still. The papers were full of stories about Edward's trial. If Creel had found out who she really was, it would be child's play to guess where she would be this day, and then all he had to do was to follow her from the Old Bailey...

Christine screamed.

Something snatched at the hem of her coat. She looked down, and her heart jumped to her throat.

It was a hand. A blood-covered hand.

Owens's hand.

The butler was lying in a heap in the alley between two warehouses, which was why she hadn't seen him when she'd first walked past. Now he crawled to the mouth of the alley, blood still pouring from a wound on the side of his head. Christine dropped to her knees. "My God, Owens!" she exclaimed, pulling her handkerchief out of her reticule and pressing it to the wound. "What happened?"

The butler's lips moved and a jumble of sounds came out, but Christine couldn't grasp them. She bent closer, and caught a few words: "It... was... cr... cre..."

She shook her head, trying to quiet him down. "Never mind. Just wait here, I'll find help." She rose to her feet, but the butler gripped her hand and pressed something into it. It was his flintlock pistol. Christine stared at it, not understanding. Just as she lifted her head to look at Owens again to question what he meant, his eyes suddenly widened at something over her shoulder. He shouted, "Behind you!"

Christine whirled around, and her heart stopped.

Creel was coming at her from across the road, emerging from a dark alley like a demon coming out of the mouth of Hell itself, a murderous look in his eyes, a knife gleaming in his hand.

She didn't stop to think. She closed her fingers around the pistol, swung it at Creel, and pulled the trigger. A shot exploded. The recoil sent her reeling back, a shockwave rippled down her arm, all the way to her shoulder, and the burning smell of gunpowder and the smoke stung her nose and her eyes.

Creel froze, the shot stopping him dead in his track. But he didn't fall down. For what felt like an eternity, he stood still, rooted to the spot, locking eyes with Christine across the empty road. Then the smoke cleared, and Creel's lips curled up in a hideous grin.

She'd missed.

Christine threw the pistol at him. It clattered to the cobblestone, a few steps short of Creel, useless now that the powder and the shot were spent. Creel moved toward her again. She gathered up her skirts, turned, and ran toward the prison, screaming "Murder!" at the top of her voice, kept screaming until her throat was raw and her lungs felt like they were on fire, kept running although the road suddenly seemed endless and her legs had turned to jelly, kept running although she knew that Creel was just one step behind and she could feel the cold steel of his knife on the back of her neck.

Then her foot caught a dip in the road and the cobblestones slammed into her, and she knew it was all over, not just for her, but also for Jane, and for Edward as well...

Chapter 10

#hellcheer #eddissy #hellcheersource #hellcheer fic #hellcheer au #regency au #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #hellcheer week #hellcheer anniversary week #oneyearofhellcheer

[ao3feed-rhaenicent]

#ao3feed #fanfic #rhaenicent #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd

[ao3feed-obikin]

Have it All (Lose it All)

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/49232953 by Order69 (wellthatjusthappend) Obi-Wan chooses to let Anakin strike him down rather than cut off his limbs. Anakin has to face up to the fact that he may end up losing both his Master and his wife. Words: 5883, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, M/M Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sabé (Star Wars) Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker Additional Tags: alternate RoS ending, Unreliable Narrator Anakin Skywalker, ambiguous platonic or romantic Obi-Wan/Anakin, childbirth non graphic, Angst, That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), murdering non major characters, Anakin's emotions are extreme and sudden, what are tenses read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/49232953

#IFTTT #Obikin #AO3feed #Star Wars

[ruiniel]

Remember

Fandom: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no yaiba

Pairing: Kokushibō x fem!Reader

Count: 1.3k

Rating: 🔞

Tags & Warnings: Multichapter, Darkfic, Angst, Ambiguity, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Reincarnation, Toxic relationship, Codependency, Blood kink, Flashbacks, Kokushibō's wife, her name is Hisami, References to childbirth but nothing graphic, POV Second Person, Tsugikuni Michikatsu POV, Emotional Sex, Mild Smut, is it gratuitous yes and no, Human!Kokushibō, Kokushibō | Tsugikuni Michikatsu-centric, Sengoku Period (1467-1590), if there's anything Upper Moon One fears it's his memories

On AO3

Part I

II.

The world used to be bloodier. As he ponders this, another thought emerges: it also used to be more beautiful. But… he’s ceased caring about such things, long ago.

This is a refuge as any other since he’s roamed this world: this too-bright place with its garish nighttime illuminations. Now it bears a different name, but much has changed in four centuries, after all.

And yet… as he kneels on the roof, the moat around what was once Fukashi Castle is still here, the surrounding verdant scenery and mountains are yet present. The still waters mouthing at the structure are a black void, offering an upside-down image of the building with its crow-like wings and the bright red bridge leading up to it—the image of an alternate dimension.

He tries to ease into the world beyond, and fails. His thoughts ripple and churn in an endless mill.

Why now?

Of all the times and all moments past, why did it have to be now that he remembered? A half-forgotten memory made flesh, one that forced a shameful retreat with nothing but words and questions and an achingly familiar face.

A shift. Upper Rank One opens his eyes.

“Why are you here?”

The newcomer nonchalantly sits on the roof close to him, crossing his legs. “Greetings, Kokushibo-dono, I hope you’re having a peaceful night?”

Kokushibo says nothing. He’s not once humored any of the others that man has brought into the fold, nor does he intend to begin. Things are fine as they stand.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’!” Doma chimes, his long, pointed nails twirling a lock of silver hair. “I must say, you certainly know how to choose your dwelling places, Kokushibo-dono, the scenery is marvelous!” the upbeat tone continues.

“Doma.”

Upper Rank Two looks his way with his bright, rainbow eyes, snapping his fingers. “Oh yes, to the point, right. Well, I wanted to report a strange, or, no!—a rather intriguing event! Quite recent.”

Kokushibo rises to his feet. He gazes up at the sky, gripping the handle of his sheathed blade.

“A very interesting person stumbled into my temple, you see,” Doma continues, speaking with that everlasting smile plastered on his face, a bit faster now for fear of losing his audience. “With a very interesting story besides! A pretty young lady, if I may say so. She’d heard of me and how so many people trust me with their woes and troubles, she said, which was rather sweet of her. She did tell me right off that she most certainly did not believe in ‘this sort of thing’, not until recently at least, but she had the most peculiar story and did not know where to go!”

“Why does this concern me?”

“Because—and here lies the most curious part—she thought she was being haunted, Kokushibo-dono! Either that, or she was going insane. And as you know, I do not believe ghosts exist.”

Because you are empty of feeling or memory.

“... but she was so distraught, and I’d fed recently, thus I decided to oblige her instead of eating her.”

A curious tremor runs up his spine. “I have no time for this.”

“Wait, wait! Now comes the intrigue: it did not take much to compel her to speak in the greatest of detail, after all human minds are so feeble. She described this… ‘ghost’ to me. She said…” He ponders, as though trying to remember. “She said it was a man, who looked like a samurai from ages past. He had long, dark hair, and not one but three pairs of burning eyes! She said he disappeared, and might not return, but did not know what to do in case he did. Isn’t that interesting, Kokushibo-dono? Where ever would a mortal get such a notion?”

“Say what you mean.”

“Far from me to meddle in my upper's business and I don't know if it’s someone who escaped, or why. But... I do know we are not to reveal ourselves to mortals and… well, I believe she will return to the temple, I made an exquisite impression, and promised to do some research.” Doma’s shining gaze melts to a dark, bloody crimson. “Would you like me to... handle this situation for you, Kokushibo-dono?”

His teeth are grinding. He’s never been so inept as to not gauge an enemy’s ways, and beneath those fake airs Upper Rank Two hides a ruthlessness and ambition that might have been admirable, were it not so honorless. “What I would like, Doma... is for you to get out of my sight.”

Doma appears stricken for a breath, but the smile returns like a beacon, and his eyes regain their multicolored luster. “Apologies if I’ve offended you, I only thought you’d like to be made aware of—”

“... leave.”

The demon claps his hands together and stands with an elegant flourish. “As you wish. Until next time.”

After Doma makes himself scarce, he kneels again. His gaze sweeps over the inky moat, the silent mountains in the far distance. He closes his eyes.

There is no thought to waste on this. None of it matters, none of it should. If anyone is foolish enough to step into Doma's territory... then that is their fate.

None of it matters.

In all honesty, he hadn’t expected it to be this way. The union of clans through marriage and strengthening of social ties he always saw as an upcoming duty to fulfill, but in him brims a new kind of contentment when you lean against his shoulder, the simple intimacy of your body warmth at his side: the comfort of having someone to hold.

The marriage ceremony has concluded days before, and he feels… relief. The sake you shared was on your lips that night, and his cheeks flush as he recalls what followed.

“I like the musicality of it.”

Michikatsu looks at you, an eyebrow raised, running slender fingers over the flute in his hand. He nuzzles your neck, smiling. “More than the koto?”

You twirl a dark lock of his hair between your fingers. “Is that strange to you?”

You’ve known each other since childhood. You’d always been a part of his life, and with fondness he remembers the many escapades through the hills, the passion in your eyes as you raced after him to the despair of your minders, your bruised knees when you fell after a dare.

“I thought you knew by now, that nothing about you is strange to me, Hisami.”

You hum, shifting your weight so he has no choice but to lie down on the futon, his arms around your waist. This closeness feels complete, irreplaceable. He knows this, perhaps he always did.

“So, will you?” you murmur, a teasing finger tracing his lips. “Will you teach me how to play?”

His body tenses at the slight touch, sweet fever melting his senses. Michikatsu buries his face against your neck, breathing in your scent. “Will you have the patience for it?” He knows you, he knows every expression on your face and what it means, the exact places your skin is marked by barely discernible scars from your covert adventures years past.

Your voice bears the slightest reproach, your fingers sifting through his hair, along his scalp, and shudder after shudder races through his nerves. “Do you think so little of me, my husband?”

Your words, though soft, cut him like a blade. It is the first time you refer to him as such, and the sudden, renewed urge to honor and protect and have you overwhelms him. It feels like waking from a shallow dream, the pale imitation of a former existence. The emptiness, the stubborn feeling of inadequacy gripping his mind like pinchers, the restlessness of not knowing a clear path or choosing a purpose are all forgotten, drowned in the murmur of your voice and the urgent beats of your heart against his chest. He tastes the word on your lips, relishing the soft gasps it yields.

“Well?” you ask, eyes closing as he grazes your lower lip with his teeth.

“How about… you let me show you what I think…” he says, a trembling hand grasping your hip.

The sheen of your smile agrees, and he will not—cannot—begrudge you this defeat.

Author note

The name 'Hisami' depending on how it's written can mean 久藤珠 - 'long lasting wisteria gem' or 久藤美 - 'long lasting wisteria beauty'.

Fukashi Castle was the original name of Matsumoto Castle, whose origins go back to the Sengoku period when the Tsugikuni brothers would have lived.

Part III

#kokushibo #demon slayer #kokushibo x reader #demon slayer x reader #michikatsu tsugikuni #kny #kokushibou #ruiniel:fanfiction #kimetsu no yaiba

[cinnamonest]

You know when it comes to Yanderes I'm pretty lenient. Like, yeah you can tie me up to bed and make me never speak to other people again, just don't be boring and I'll be fine, i certainly won't appreciate the murdering of my close ones but it's kind of unavoidable sometimes with them.. no matter how much you convince them that you love only them it's not gonna be enough and they'll still be jealous... and if there's absolutely nothing i can do about it, then might as well accept it. If anything, if you have a pretty face, or just... pretty in general.. then i might not complain at all, you know what i mean?? 😝😆

But. As lenient as i am.. There's this one thing. The only thing that I'm absolutely terrified of is the thing we call pregnancy. Absolutely terrifies me. A-and much to my dismay, i can tell that most of genshin men (hell all of them) probably have a raging breeding kink and i certainly can't stop that😔🥲

So! If you don't mind answering, how do you think genshin men will react to a darling who has massive Tokophobia, which is, indeed a fear of pregnancy and childbirth? Like, full-on breakdowns about it and probably even slewer-side attempts, so it's not easy to ignore at all

(also i really really like your blog, thank you for posting and feeding my deranged brain💕💕)

Ahhh yes same honestly, the thought of it irl freaks me out so much I hope I never get pregnant 😓😓 Also, !REMINDER! to all that when it comes to fears, insecurities and stuff like that, I write it being handled very poorly on their part, often manipulative and controlling or making the problem worse, rather than actual good comfort, due to the nature of my writing. I'm just always cautious in case to make sure people know that before reading especially newer followers who might not know. If someone wants like true fluff comfort, this is probably not the place to go 😅 Our boys are toxic and awful <3

Pretty much all of these have themes of forced impreg/pregnancy, toxicity, guilting/shaming etc so it's below a cut. Also some graphic/crude descriptions of things being joked about that may be bothersome depending on severity of your sensitivity.

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

There are some that handle it well, namely Venti. Venti would be so sweet about it, he's very non opinionated on the matter so he'll just kinda go with what you want. He doesn't need anything but you, so he's perfectly happy as it is and would never verbally try to pressure you into it.

The only issue, you see, is that your insides feel amazing and it's like, super duper hard to pull out or wear protection of any kind. And while he tries to, sometimes he just... forgets. He can't really afford meds of any kind, so... it may turn out to be an issue nonetheless. In which case he really does try to be comforting, and thankfully he's rather good with words... but really, he tries to be distracting. You can't be worried if you're not thinking about it! So basically he puts a ton of effort into taking your mind off the matter entirely, making you think about anything else, which is more of less trying to be avoidant, which he can only manage for so long. He's bad at managing panic attacks, because it just makes him start to panic, too, but he really does try.

--

Kaeya is fine with it, namely because he has a lot of... negative thoughts regarding the idea himself. Sure, having a kid wouldn't be bad per se, but the thought of you putting so much time and energy and affection into something that isn't him, right in front of him, starts to get under his skin. He's one of the most likely of our boys to actually kinda avoid it entirely... not in a way that would force him to give up pleasure or anything, no, it would have to be hormonal medication for you to take or something like that. He takes good care of you, so it's only fair!

However, should you get pregnant anyway, he's not the best at comforting you about it, namely because he's actually panicking a bit too, and frankly, he knows full well there is no way to comfort you that wouldn't be a blatant lie because, to be honest, he has no idea what to do. He can't get anyone to help, he doesn't trust someone to help him and not go to authorities about the situation. It's not like he can just so would you by chance know how to assist birth haha to a coworker at random, either. Expect a lot of nervousness on his part, which will inevitably make it a lot worse for you by extension. ...Nervousness about how this will affect him and how he'll lose a lot of your attention, of course.

He pretends to be fully confident to dismiss your worries, though, in an effort to try and seem put-together in hopes it'll make you less worried. Nah, it's not a big deal, really! You can't help but notice he seems to move around a lot and avoid eye contact whenever it comes up.

--

Kazuha... is somewhere in the middle. He's so sweet! He's comforting and reassuring and calm. He understands. Everyone is afraid of something! He goes on with the comfort for a while actually, telling you he totally gets it and he will always support you, it's not your fault, he understands why you'd be afraid.

...It's not until several minutes in you realize, of all the comforting words, he hasn't outright said he's okay with you not having kids, though. Just that he loves you, supports you, will always be there to help you get through it.

So after a minute you finally gather some courage and outright ask so it's okay if we don't right? And then you see his eyes widen, his soft smile falls. Oh... you mean you... don't want to? He thought you were just saying you were scared, which was hard to deal with considering obviously you want him to put a baby in you. After all, that's the natural way love works, so if you didn't want his babies, you must not love him... but you do love him, right? He asks you with a grip on your shoulders so firm and eyes so unblinkingly wide and empty you know far better than to say no. Okay, so if you love him, it shouldn't be an issue right? Because if you love him, you want to. He can't comprehend how you wouldn't. He would push through any fear for your sake... of course, he trusts you would do the same for him... the thought that you might not want them, and thereby don't love him, does linger in the back of his mind and bother him for a while, but he tells himself that's just more of a reason to get you knocked up sooner. That way you'll realize how much you want it, and then he can help you get over this fear of yours.

--

Xingqiu is also pretty in the middle, but pretty annoying about it because he has read exactly one (1) book on pregnancy and believes he is the Expert™ and knows more than you. On the bright (?) side, you will actually be in top-tier care because his family will just hire people who know what they're doing, including a therapist that is supposed to "help you get over it" because they genuinely believe in the "if you have a phobia just try not being scared :)" mentality.

In the end though you're not getting out of it. Need for heirs and all that, it's like, literally your responsibility. He's also extremely infuriating because he too has the mindset that ah, you'll get over it. Just you wait and see, a few months from now and you'll totally be over this silly little fear of yours and be super happy and excited about it! Until then, he can reassure you it'll be okay.

--

Diluc and Albedo dig themselves deeper and deeper into a hole with their words.

Diluc understands what you're experiencing a lot better, he gets the concept of a phobia unlike some others, but he's still awful at comforting. He's too practical and thinks he's helping when he's just making it worse, will say things like "well my mom said it wasn't that bad, she only had (insert the worst experience you've heard of in your entire life) so you'll be fine too", and when that only backfires into making you cry and panic (must be those pregnancy hormones?), he has to find one of the maids who has had kids and try to get them to reassure you. At least talking to them helps a little bit.

However, it gets worse as time goes on because unfortunately, what makes him especially awful for this situation is that he gets paranoid and panicked, which in turn certainly does not help you. He starts mumbling about how maybe he should call a doctor, he senses something's not right or something is abnormal, and that just makes you panic so much worse. And then he starts talking in what-ifs and that just sends your mental state into a downward spiral. Ugh.

--

Albedo has the same problem, but it sounds even worse with the way he talks about it. "Well statistically, the number of people who sustain injury during childbirth is only--" and then flinch at your interrupting reaction because he genuinely thought saying that would bring you some comfort. Okay. It's certainly not his field of expertise, but he has an anatomy book shoved away somewhere that he had for the purpose of chemical makeup of various parts of the body, but it has a section on pregnancy. See, here's the diagram showing you how--

Okay, so that... made it worse. You're panicking and breathing so fast, that can't be good. He knows he's not the best with words, but he wasn't expecting you to react that badly. Well, no worries. He's actually alright with it... sort of. In theory. He can just... make a kid on his own with your DNA. All organic and gestation-free. Like a plant.

The "in theory" part, however, similar to Venti, comes from the fact that while he can accept not impregnating you as a concept, in practice... well, no way is he going to put you on anything hormonal. Tons of negative side effects, you know (such as a decrease in sex drive, for one!). And pulling out is just... I mean, consider it logically, how would you like to have the best part of orgasm taken away from you? That's right, of course not. And condoms are awful, you literally can barely feel anything. No he's not exaggerating. Here, put this glove on, notice how you can only vaguely feel anything? See, that's what it's like. And cycle tracking... that would have to mean going some days without sex, and it is factual that he needs you as a means of stress reduction, you make him more productive, and you wouldn't want him to fail at his job right? So yes, he nods his head when you mention the fear, it's fine if you want to not get pregnant... he just will take absolutely no measures to prevent it from happening. But no worries. If you're panicked once again when you find out, he can always break out the diagrams again, maybe it will help this time...

-----

Then we have the worst. Razor, Xiao, and Gorou. For Razor, it's a complete lack of understanding the very concept of a phobia and horrible communicative skills, for Gorou, it's the freakish pregnancy itself, and for Xiao, it's both of those things.

First of all, you will get pregnant. It is only a matter of time. There is no avoiding it. They all have strong breeding instincts and can't be bothered to use any form of protection -- why would you ever pull out when it feels so good? What kind of torture is that? And those things you tried to get him to wrap around his dick feel awful, no thank you. And as for Gorou, well, it's not a choice, he literally can't pull out when he's knotted deep inside you, and condoms don't fit around said knot. Besides, it doesn't matter, they reason, they all try to tell themselves that although you're like this now, once you're bred and knocked up you won't be so panicked.

...Okay, so maybe you are still panicked. Well, that's... not good. Xiao and Razor are basically in the same camp where they genuinely do care and don't want you to be afraid, but also think a simple "it will be okay. You'll be fine" should be enough to eliminate said fear entirely, and will be confused why you're apparently still upset. He just told you it's fine?? Do you need to be told a second time? A third time? Why is it not working... what is it that you do not understand...

But what makes them really bad is that they choose the absolute worst ways to "help". You finally convince Xiao to allow a medical doctor to have a look at you because you're getting sick with paranoia over your health... but it backfires when the doctor tells you he's fairly certain there's more than one, more than two even, causing you to panic and say something about how you're going to have tons of babies... but Xiao decides to reassure you that there is no worries. Tons? It's only like five or six. Not tons of them. The only downsides are the massive amounts of adeptal energy that will probably make you super sick, but he will be there for you and you two can what's with that look on your face why are you crying--

Likewise, Razor decides the best way to help you deal with this fear is by example to show you that it's not bad at all. Thankfully, one of the wolves is pregnant too, so when she gives birth you can come watch. You shake your head and dig your heels into the ground, but since he knows it'll be helpful, it's okay to pick you up and carry you by force, it's for your own good! You'll watch at a short distance, of course, but still close enough so you can see everything in great detail. See, it's not that bad! Look at how happy she is! After a little while he realizes you haven't said much ever since the first one came out, looks over and sees your eyes are closed and you're all slumped over, so he gives you a shake... huh, must have gone to sleep...? Well, that must mean you feel better about it now.

Gorou is on another level in terms of how much he wants it to begin with. Please. Please let him knock you up. Please he promises it'll be fine and there's nothing to worry about and you can carry four puppies just fine and okay maybe he shouldn't have added that part, anyway, please just--

He will literally hump you and whine and whimper about it, if he gets desperate enough. He's far more understanding and considerate of your feelings than the other two, but that makes it honestly a bit worse for him because he wants so badly for you to be happy and love him -- but you just don't understand. You can't understand how bad his need is. He wants nothing more in the world. Maybe, just maybe, he thinks, if he can just... get you into that state... you'll stop being so afraid, maybe?

He's also so apologetic about it the whole time, too. He knows that once he shoves the knot inside you it's more or less a done deal and irreversible, so he keeps mumbling apologies while he ruts into you, thinking that will make up for it. He hates to do something that will make you afraid, but can you really blame him...?

#lena's asks #q #tw: pregnancy

[maybeimamuppet]

a perfect stranger

hello my muppets happy wednesday!!! 

a while ago in one of the cadnis fics i mentioned that i wasn’t sure if i wanted the plastics to have kids, because they strike me as the type of people that could really go either way. but, the consensus was unanimously BABY so. here is baby. 

important thing: i write gretchen as krytstina’s rather than ashley’s, which is why gretchen’s family speaks spanish in this :) 

a super big thank you to all my trenchcoat gremlins for helping me with scene ideas and things :)) and especially to etchedstars  for answering all my probably stupid questions about judaism and picking the baby’s hebrew names :) 

tw for

pregnancy

non-graphic childbirth 

anxiety 

and as always if i’ve missed something please let me know so i can add it :)

enjoy!

—————

“Aah! I mean, uh. Hi, Regina,” Janis greets when she opens her front door to find Regina on the other side. “Uh… do you and Caddy have a thing? She didn’t tell me-“

“No, um…” Regina mumbles. “I was wondering if I could talk. To you.” 

Janis raises an eyebrow, but steps back to let her into her house. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” Regina confirms. “Well, no, but… yeah.” 

“What?” Janis asks in confusion. “You know what, never mind, hold on. Baby!” 

“What, love?!” Cady calls from her office. 

“Reggie’s here, she says she needs to talk to me! Can you take a break?”

“Weggie!” Leo and Layla cheer when they hear her name, barreling down the hallway to greet their auntie. 

“Hi, guys,” Regina chuckles. She gives each a gentle hug as they crash into her legs. “God, you two are getting so grown up!” 

“Hi, Regina,” Cady greets as she heads down to see her as well. “You guys take your time, I’ll try to keep the smalls out of your hair.” 

“Thanks,” Regina says sheepishly but thankfully. Cady takes the twins to the living room to go play, while Janis leads Regina to the back deck to talk in private. 

“So what’s up?” she asks once they’re both seated. “You look tense. This isn’t another apology, is it?” 

“Not this time,” Regina says anxiously. “Uhm… I need advice.” 

Janis looks at her blankly. “Uh… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly the most responsible person on the planet.” 

“I know that,” Regina sighs. “God knows I know that. But… okay, there’s no way around this. Gretchen and Karen both want a baby but I’m too scared and I feel like I’m holding them back from being happy and-“ 

“Whoa! Whoa, Regina,” Janis hushes. “Slow down, one thing at a time. You’re talking about kids?” 

“They are. A kid,” Regina mumbles. “Gretchen really wants one, and Karen wants one more every day. But I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mom.” 

Janis hums sadly but empathetically. “Okay. What else?” 

“I just… I see how bad Gretch wants it, and I think about how happy it would make her if we had a child. She would be such a good parent, and so would KK. And I’m just… stuck in the way. Making it all about me, again. I’m the only hurdle. I feel like I’m holding them back from happiness, or whatever. And I’m afraid one day they’ll realize they want a baby more than they want… me.” 

Janis sighs heavily. “Okay, well… god, where do I even- this is gonna sound rude, but why are you here?” 

“Because you did it,” Regina mumbles. “The Janis I know would have to have been talked into having a baby. So you must’ve been in at least a similar place, and then realized something I’m missing. Was hoping you could fill me in.” 

Janis nods. “You’re right about that. Cads and I had a loooot of long talks about it before we were both ready to start trying for a baby.” 

“We’ve had so many talks,” Regina sighs. “But I’m always just… stuck here.” 

“Okay,” Janis continues. “Have you told them you don’t feel ready?” 

“Yeah,” Regina says. “But they say I’d be a great mom. I just don’t… see what they see, I guess.” 

“Do you know why you aren’t ready? Like, can you put your finger on any specific reason?” 

“My dad,” Regina whispers, fiddling with one of her rings. “And… you.” 

“Me?” 

“What I did to you,” Regina clarifies. “If my kid turned out like me… I don’t know what I’d do. Or if I did something to hurt them, god knows...” 

“You wouldn’t,” Janis says. “If you’re this worried about it. You hurt me on purpose because you didn’t care. Anything you do now would be accidental. And you’ve been through what you’ve been through. If your kid somehow turned out like you then you’d recognize the signs. Nip it in the bud, get them the help they’d need. But honestly, with Gretchen and Karen as their other moms, I don’t think that’s… possible, really.” 

Regina thinks about this for a second and nods. “But babies are so much work.” 

“You don’t have to have a baby,” Janis reminds her. “You could adopt an older kid.” 

“I know. We’ve talked about that, but Gretchen really wants to be pregnant,” Regina sighs. “She wants to know what it’s like firsthand, or something.” 

“Rough,” Janis chuckles. “It’s rough. But that’s her call. Babies are really tough, yeah, but they’re also… so… I don’t even know how to describe it. There’s nothing else like it.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like knowing they’re yours,” Janis says quietly, peeking in through the window at her wife chasing their almost four-year-olds around the living room. “I had this moment with both of them when they were born. Holding them for the first time. They just looked at me, all bundled in their little blankets. And it just… hit me like a train, that these were mine. They looked at me like I was the only person in the world. There was so much trust in their eyes. And I realized that’s because they don’t know who I was before them. I get to grow with them. But it’s my job to give them a good life, and they’re… my kids. My babies.” 

“Do you ever regret it?” Regina asks quietly. Janis genuinely considers it for a long moment before she shakes her head. 

“No. I’m not going to lie to you, it’s fucking hard. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to do. But it’s so worth it. They’ll be screaming and pitching tantrums and fighting and making messes and driving you up the wall one minute, and you think you’re about to snap, and then they get that look again, and you just know they trust and love you more than anything in the world. Then they’re saying, ‘I love you Mommy’ in their sweet little voices and running to you after a bad dream or an owie because they know you can fix it. And you hold your baby close and realize you wouldn’t change anything about them. I don’t regret it at all.” 

“You make it sound so beautiful.” 

“It is,” Janis says quietly. “Like a diamond. Lots of pressure and stress, but the result is the most beautiful thing you can imagine.” 

“You are the most poetic person I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing,” Regina tuts. 

“There’s the Regina I know,” Janis chuckles. “Did I get through to you?” 

Regina nods. “Thank you. I do actually appreciate it. A lot.” 

Janis nods back. “Anytime. Good luck with whichever way you decide to go.” 

“Thank you,” Regina repeats. Janis leads her back inside, and Regina heads back home after another quick hug from her nieces and Cady. 

-

“I want to do it,” Regina says immediately when she enters the apartment again. Her partners both look at her. “I-I want to have a baby.” 

————-

Regina’s birthday rolls around in April. She had nearly forgotten amidst the chaos of the previous week. Gretchen had gotten a rather severe case of food poisoning from some restaurant they went to for a date. Regina had been frantically trying to nurse her back to health and also figure it out where it had been to bring about the proper consequences. 

“Happy birthdaaaaaay,” Gretchen greets with a bit more energy than she’s had as she comes to wake Regina up. Regina grumbles into her pillow crankily. 

“Don’t want birthday yet. Five more minutes.” 

“Noooo, come on, sweetheart,” Gretchen chuckles. “Karen and I made your favorite breakfast.” 

That gets one icy blue eye to pop open. “Crepes?” 

“Mmhmm. And I have one present that you’re allowed to open before we eat,” Gretchen coaxes. That gets the other eye to appear. “Come on, sleepyhead, it’s your special day.” 

“Fine,” Regina sighs crankily, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Gretchen bites her lip to hold back a laugh at her bedhead. “Don’t you dare.” 

“I’m sorry, you just look like a birds nest!” Gretchen chuckles. “And then you pout like that, how am I supposed to be able to hold back a laugh at that?” 

“Because you’re supposed to love me. Not laugh at my stupid hair,” Regina huffs, blowing a blonde strand away as it falls into her face. 

“I do love you. You know that. I love you a whole lot,” Gretchen says. She pushes the blonde mess off Regina’s forehead and plants a sweet kiss there. “Now come on. Go take a quick shower and then come eat. I want to see how you react to this present.” 

“Okay,” Regina sighs. Gretchen stands up to let Regina roll out of bed, and pulls her into a kiss before she heads into the en-suite. Regina finally cracks a smile and heads to get ready to face a new day. 

—-

“Okay, what’s this magical present you have?” 

Gretchen smiles widely at her and hands over a small box. It’s about jewelry sized, maybe it’s a new bracelet or necklace. 

“Ooh!” Regina squeals as she takes it. She carefully removes the wrapping paper and lifts the lid off the box. 

She’s stunned to see a pregnancy test inside. A positive pregnancy test, to be precise. And, adorably, Gretchen has written ‘Hi mommy!’ on the end with a marker. Regina pulls it out with violently shaking hands and stares at it. It quickly goes blurry with the tears pooling in her eyes. 

“You-you’re pregnant?” she chokes, looking up at Gretchen. “It worked?” 

Gretchen nods and reaches for her. Regina practically leaps across the counter to hug her. 

“I knew it!” Karen yells, hugging Gretchen from behind so she’s carefully sandwiched between them. 

“I told you last night, Karebear,” Gretchen chuckles. 

“Oh yeah. Well, I knew before you told me!” 

“Of course you did. You know everything,” Regina chuckles before choking out a sob. “Oh my god, we’re having a baby!” 

“We’re having a baby!” Gretchen confirms with a watery laugh. She tenses suddenly and anxiously asks, “Are-are you happy?” 

“Yeah,” Regina whispers. “Yeah, love, I’m happy.” 

—————

A week later, they all head to the doctor for the first ultrasound. Regina, ironically, is the most nervous, clinging to Gretchen’s hand protectively and watching the nurses like a hawk as they get her partner prepped. 

“Ginny, it’s gonna be fine,” Gretchen says soothingly. “I feel okay, we don’t have anything to worry about yet.” 

“Yet,” Regina echoes with a huff. “What if the baby isn’t okay?” 

“Then we’ll find out today what’s going on and deal with it,” Karen says. “But we have every reason to believe they’re gonna be perfectly fine.” 

Regina pouts and considers everything her partners have said as the doctor comes in to get everything started. Regina snaps back out of her thoughts when their baby is suddenly visible on the screen. 

“Here’s your little one,” the doctor says, shifting slightly so they can all see. It looks more like a little blob than anything, but it’s… definitely their baby. “Looks absolutely perfect.” 

“That’s the baby?” Regina sniffles, her eyes suddenly welling with tears. 

“Mmhmm,” the doctor replies. “You can just about see some little extremities starting to form, and their head is up here.” 

“And they’re okay?” Gretchen asks, squeezing her partners’ hands. 

“They certainly seem to be. Heartbeat looks strong, you can see that here. And their growth is right on track for how far along you are.” 

“They have a heartbeat?” Karen asks quietly. The doctor nods. 

“Would you like to hear?”

All three of them nod, so the doctor flips a switch to turn on the sound. She shifts for a moment, and suddenly an echoey pulsing sound fills the room. 

“That’s our baby,” Gretchen sobs, looking up at Regina and Karen. They both look back at her with matching tearful expressions. 

“They’re perfect already,” Regina murmurs, bending to kiss Gretchen’s forehead. 

“I can’t wait to meet them,” Karen whispers. 

“Our little nugget,” Gretchen hums, resting a gentle hand on her tummy. “Already so loved.”

————-

Gretchen’s birthday comes around in May. They usually go home to Illinois for her birthday since it’s in the middle of the three, and celebrate all their birthdays in one go with their families. They’re all very excited to have a special present for everyone else, for a change. 

“Happy birthday, munchkin,” Gretchen’s older sibling, Dylan, greets as soon as she walks in the door. Gretchen rolls her eyes and bats their hand away as they ruffle her hair. 

“Dyl, I’m thirty-two, I’m not ‘munchkin’ anymore,” she huffs. 

“You’re only 5’4”. You stop being munchkin when you get taller than me.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Love you too. Mom got your room all ready.”

“Thanks, bubs.”

Regina and Karen follow her through the massive house to Gretchen’s childhood bedroom. Her old full size bed has been subbed out for a king to make room for all of them, but nothing else has been changed since she left it in college. It’s always her home. 

“How are you feeling, love?” Regina asks as she gets started unpacking. Karen follows her lead and unpacks their other suitcase.

“I’m fine,” Gretchen hums. Regina looks at her and raises a knowing eyebrow. “I’m… I’m a little scared.”

“Of what?” 

“How they’ll react. I know they love me. And you. But our relationship is a little bit… unconventional, y’know? My family is really traditional. And now we’re adding a baby to everything…” 

“They’ve had time to get used to how our dynamic works,” Karen comforts. “They’re letting us stay in the same room, finally. We can answer any questions they might have about the baby, and any fallout that might happen would be aimed at us and not you. Ginny and I can deal with that ourselves and help you figure out the rest of everything. But your mom loves babies, I think she’s gonna be so excited.” 

“Yeah, Button, I think they’ll mostly be concerned with you and making sure you and the baby are both healthy,” Regina adds. “Do you still want to tell them tonight?” 

“Yeah. I want to get the announcement out of the way so I can have the rest of the trip to celebrate and recover, I guess,” Gretchen sighs. “But I want a nap first.” 

“Alright, love,” Karen laughs. “Nap time it is. Good practice before the baby gets here.” 

Gretchen laughs and cuddles into her for a quick rest. 

—-

“Mama, Dad, we have some news,” Gretchen says anxiously after a delicious welcome home/happy birthday dinner. 

“What is it, mija?” her mother asks as she starts clearing the table. 

“Put that down,” Regina advises kindly. Gretchen’s mother listens confusedly, resting the small stack of fragile plates back on the table. 

“We’re having a baby. I’m pregnant,” Gretchen says. She sighs in relief and smiles as her mother screams in delight and rushes to hug her, spluttering her excitement in a harried and jumbled mix of English and Spanish. Her father quickly follows, gently but aggressively pulling her into a hug and murmuring his congratulations into her hair. 

“Wait, what?” Dylan asks, finally looking up from their phone. “Shit, really? You’re pregnant?” 

“Yeah,” Gretchen chuckles. Dylan also scrambles out of their chair and runs to join in the family hug. A rare, but not unwelcome occasion.  Her father beckons Regina and Karen over to join as well, making it a whole family affair. 

“Oh, we have to pick their Hebrew name, and get everything ready- is it a boy or a girl?” her mother asks in a frenzy. 

“We don’t know yet, I wanted to wait until they’re born,” Gretchen replies. 

“Almeda, we’ve had names picked since Dylan was born,” her father calms. “And we have time.” 

“She’s not due ‘til November,” Karen explains. “Plenty of time.” 

“What Hebrew names did you pick?” Gretchen asks gently. “You’ve never told us.” 

“Sosha Hanna, if it is a girl,” her father replies. “And Teva for a boy.” 

“After Abuela and Papa?” Gretchen asks, eyes brimming with tears. Her grandparents had unfortunately passed away a few years prior. She’s glad to have this way to remember them. 

“Yes. How have you been feeling, mija?” her father asks, ushering her to sit back down as if she’d keel over being on her feet for a second longer. 

“I had some bad morning sickness the first few weeks. Gina was insisting it was food poisoning and trying to figure out where it was so she could sue them or something,” Gretchen chuckles lovingly. Regina leans over and steals a quick kiss on the cheek. “But I’m feeling much better lately. I haven’t felt them move yet, but I’m only going into the second trimester.” 

“I have to buy Chanukah presents,” her mother realizes. “If you’re due in November.” 

“Mama, it’s fine,” Gretchen calms with a laugh. “You can buy their presents when it gets closer. It’s only May.” 

“Have you told anyone else?” Dylan asks. Gretchen shakes her head. 

“We’re telling our families tomorrow, and our friends when we go back home,” Karen says. “We thought it was important that you guys know first, since Gretchen’s the one carrying it.” 

“So don’t tell anyone yet, Mama,” Gretchen warns lovingly. Her mother nods and mimics zipping her lips. 

“Oh, I can’t believe it, I’m so excited!”

“We’re excited too.”

————-

“Hey, K, welcome home,” Karen’s father greets when they arrive at Karen’s old house. Karen hugs her dad tightly and follows him inside. Once the door is closed, Regina and Gretchen get their own hugs and they’re all ushered in further. “Happy birthday, Gretchen. And you, Regina.” 

“Thank you,” Gretchen and Regina grin. Karen’s father nods and heads to the kitchen. 

“You want any beer or anything?” 

“No, thanks, Dad,” Karen chuckles. He offers every time they come over, despite knowing the three of them all detest beer. It’s just his way of being hospitable. “We actually have something for you.” 

“Oh, so you do,” her father hums when she holds out a small bag. “Thank you, ladies.” 

The three of them watch anxiously as he opens the bag, pulling out a t-shirt and a matching tiny onesie. The shirt says, “World’s Greatest Grandpa”, and the onesie says, “Little Bud”. 

“W-what?” 

“We’re having a baby,” Karen explains quietly. Her dad looks at them with tears in his eyes. They’ve only seen him cry once before, at their wedding. He stares at the onesie for a long moment before he beckons all three of them over for a hug. 

“How?” he chokes hoarsely, clearly trying to hide his emotions. Gretchen adjusts her shirt so her baby bump is visible, and Karen’s dad seems to give up on hiding. Regina and Gretchen watch with tears in their eyes as Karen is wrapped in the tightest hug and he shyly reaches a hand out to feel where his grandchild is growing. “Congratulations, K.” 

“Thanks, Dad,” Karen sniffles, squeezing her father even tighter. 

“So that’s why none of you wanted beer.”

“Sure, Dad.” 

—————-

“There‘s my favorite fly bitches!” Regina’s mom greets when she sees them pull up, trying to make her way over in ridiculously high heels and carrying a small dog. 

Regina begrudgingly leans into a hug with her mother, letting herself be squeezed and her cheeks be kissed before her mom moves on to her partners. 

“Hi Belle,” Gretchen coos, gently extending a hand for the dog to sniff and scratching her head. The pup wiggles eagerly and happily kisses her hand. 

Regina’s mom raises her eyebrows briefly before she leads them inside and yells for Regina’s sister. “Kylie! Your sister is here!” 

“Coming!” Kylie yells back. Regina braces herself for yet another hug, this time with the potential to damage her already sensitive back, but she’s surprised to be wrapped in a remarkably gentle embrace. “Hi loser.”

“Hi, doofus,” Regina chuckles. “How’s your cat?”

“Pain in the ass.”

“Like always,” Regina hums. “Get off, you’re sweaty.” 

“You’re so rude,” Kylie huffs. “Hi Gretch, hi Karen.” 

“Hey, Ky,” Gretchen and Karen laugh at the same time. They each get their own hug before Kylie follows her mother down the hall. 

“Damn, Mom,” Regina says when she sees the state of the kitchen. Every inch of counter space is covered with food; snacks and dessert and even a whole turkey. “It’s just the s-five of us.”

Her mom gets that look on her face again, but decides not to mention Regina’s little slip-up. Gretchen chuckles and kisses her on the cheek. “It looks really good, Ms. George, thank you.” 

“I’ve told you to call me Sabrina, Gretchen, you’re my daughter-in-law,” Ms. George chides gently. “But thank you, doll. Dig in.” 

“You go sit, love, what do you want?” Karen asks, taking Gretchen’s plate out of her hands and gently pushing her towards the table. 

“Whatever you’re having,” Gretchen replies, kissing Karen’s jawline before going to sit down. “Thank you, Karebear.” 

Karen blows her a kiss in reply and gathers all of their favorite foods onto their plates. Regina follows and stares at all the options. Karen notices, because of course she does. 

“Do you want me to pick for you?” 

Regina gives her a grateful smile. “You would?” 

“Of course?” Karen says, confused. “Always. I know it’s tough for you sometimes. And today is a big day anyway, I know you don’t like making choices when you’re stressed.” 

“You’re perfect,” Regina whispers. “And brilliant.” 

“Thanks,” Karen squeaks. She hands Regina one of the full plates and takes the empty one with a kiss to Regina’s lips. “Take this to Gretch.” 

“Can do. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

——-

After a delightful meal and light conversation, it’s time to drop the bomb. 

Unfortunately, Regina’s mother drops it for them. “So how far along are you, Gretchen, dear?” 

Regina chokes on her water. “Mom!” 

“What?” 

“How did you know?!” 

“Because I’m a mother, honey,” her mother says. “And you haven’t exactly been subtle.” 

Regina humphs into her glass as she takes another sip. Gretchen giggles at their antics. “I’m only going into the second trimester. Um, today, I think. I’m not sure exactly.” 

“You never will be,” Regina’s mother chuckles. “Congratulations.” 

“What happened?” Kylie asks, returning from the kitchen with a small plate of seconds. 

“See, this is why it was important that we were the ones to tell you,” Regina says. “We’re having a baby, Ky.” 

There’s a deafening crash, followed by a shriek, and then Sabrina muttering about using plastic plates in the future. 

“You what?!” Kylie shrieks excitedly. “I’m gonna be an auntie?!” 

“Not if you keep screaming like that,” Regina tuts under her breath. Gretchen gently kicks her shin under the table. “Ow!” 

“Be nice,” Gretchen whispers. Regina pouts and turns away. 

“I was.” 

“Be nicer.” 

“Hmph.” 

Gretchen rolls her eyes lovingly and lets Kylie feel her tummy and ask a flurry of questions. Regina gets a fond smile watching her family members interact and ruffles Kylie’s hair as she goes to get some more food. 

—————

A few days later, they’re back home. Regina has her head on Karen’s lap while her partner gets some work done on her phone. She’s violently removed from one of her favorite places when Gretchen suddenly shrieks, “Oh my god!” from the next room and they both scramble up to see what’s wrong. 

“What happened?! What’s the matter?!” Regina asks frantically. Gretchen looks up at them with tears in her eyes, but after a second they notice that she’s laughing. 

“Come here,” she sniffs, reaching out for the both of them. Confused, they both sit on either side of her on the bed. Gretchen takes their hands and kisses their fingertips before resting them side by side on her stomach. 

“What happ- oh my god!” Karen squeals. 

“Was-was that-“ Regina stutters. 

“That’s the baby,” Gretchen laughs, wiping her eyes with another sniffle. “They’re kicking.” 

“No way!” Karen responds eagerly, bringing her other hand over to feel too. “Hi baby!” 

Regina doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just staring at her hand as it rests on her partner’s tummy. Something about it is just… different, this time. Different than all the times she’s felt Gretchen’s baby bump before. Something about their little one kicking for the first time has made it so much more real.

“Ginny,” Gretchen says knowingly. Regina snaps out of her mental fog and back to reality, meeting her eyes sheepishly. “What happened?” 

“Nothing,” Regina says quietly, shifting her hand slightly and gently massaging the skin there with her thumb. “Just… there’s actually… there’s a person in here. A person that can move and do stuff. And they’re ours.” 

“And how do you feel about that?” Karen asks gently. Regina rests her head on Gretchen’s shoulder and looks at her. 

“So excited,” she whispers. Her partners both beam and kiss her forehead. “I wouldn’t have asked for this if I wasn’t.” 

“Good,” Gretchen hums. “I can’t wait to see both of you with this little nugget.” 

“I can’t wait to see them,” Karen responds. “But we have to wait so long.”

“It’ll go by fast,” Gretchen comforts. “And it’s probably for the best, we still have a lot to get done.” 

She’s not wrong, they haven’t bought so much as a diaper for the baby yet. So they’ve been a little preoccupied. 

“We have time,” Regina says. “And we’ll use it.” 

Karen nods and rests against Gretchen with a yawn. Gretchen chuckles and kisses her forehead. “Go get ready for bed, Cupcake. We’re tired too.” 

“Mmkay,” Karen hums, kissing Gretchen and her belly before regretfully pulling herself away. Regina pouts until she gets a kiss too, but smiles happily when she gets hers. 

Gretchen stretches and gets cozy on their bed. Regina crawls after her and lies down next to her belly. 

“What are you doing?” Gretchen giggles as Regina pops her head into her shirt. She can feel Regina’s lips pressed against her tummy, but she’s not kissing it. 

“I am having a private conversation with my child,” Regina huffs as Gretchen pulls her shirt up to peek at what she’s up to. “And you are not invited.” 

“Oh, my apologies,” Gretchen laughs. Regina nods haughtily and returns to her very important discussion with their unborn baby. Gretchen nestles further into her pillows and strokes through the ends of Regina’s hair as she stares at the ceiling. 

Karen comes back after taking her makeup off and brushing her teeth and hair, cuddling in on Gretchen’s other side. “What is she doing?” 

“Talking to the baby.” 

“It’s a private discussion!” Regina calls from her shirt cave. 

“Can the baby hear her yet?” Karen whispers. 

“No,” Gretchen whispers back with a giggle. “But don’t tell her, she’s having fun.”

“Okay,” Karen chuckles. “Gina, tell the baby we said goodnight.” 

“Okay!” 

—————

They tell their friends about the baby the next week. The twins’  birthday is a week after Gretchen’s birthday. They feel a bit guilty about hijacking their birthday party, but it is a rather perfect time to let them know they’re getting a new cousin. 

“Happy birthday, twinkies!” Gretchen greets happily as the twins come barreling down the hall to greet them, clad in matching birthday princess tiaras that they almost definitely received from Damian. “Four years old, oh my gosh!” 

“Hi!” they both say, bouncing up and down in a pattern like whack-a-moles. Janis follows them down the hallway and hugs the Plastics in greeting. 

“What do you say?” she prompts the twins quietly. 

“Thank you for coming!” they both chirp at the same time. “And the present!” 

“You’re so welcome,” Karen chuckles. 

—-

“We actually have one more little present for you, girls,” Regina pipes up when the excitement over the gifts has died down a bit. They both perk up again and look around for it. 

“Where?” 

“It’s not here yet,” Gretchen chuckles. She hesitantly cups her baby bump that had been previously hidden by her dress. “But they will be in November!” 

Cady screams happily and runs up to hug her. “No way! I mean, I totally knew it, but no way! Oh my god!” 

Gretchen laughs at that and hugs her tightly. Janis follows and gives her a gentle but excited hug. “How did you know?” 

“Former pregnant person intuition. You just know,” Cady shrugs. She squeals again and hugs her even tighter. “Congratulations! Can I feel your belly?” 

“Of course,” Gretchen chuckles. Cady does a little happy dance and carefully rests a hand on top of the baby bump. 

“What did I miss?” Damian asks as he comes back from the restroom and finds everyone crowding around the Plastics and a few people in tears. 

“Gretchie’s pregnant,” Karen explains. Damian shrieks and runs in to join the hug. 

“Oh my god, congratulations!” he squeals. 

“Thank you,” Gretchen chuckles.

“Oh my god, yay! Girls, come here,” Cady calls to her daughters, who seem rather confused as to what’s going on. Cady crouches down to their height to explain. “You guys get a new cousin soon! Aunt GG is gonna have a baby!” 

“A baby?” Leo asks in awe, looking up at her auntie. Layla looks curiously at her tummy. 

“Yeah, I have a baby in my belly!” Gretchen laughs. “Do you want to feel? They might kick you.” 

“Kick me?” Layla asks warily. 

“Yeah, sometimes when they try to move around in there they kick or punch the inside of my tummy. But their feet are only about thiiiiis big, so it doesn’t hurt,” Gretchen explains, holding up her fingers to demonstrate her point. “It just feels kind of weird. And you don’t have to feel if you don’t want to, honey.” 

Leo eagerly reaches out a small hand, so Gretchen takes it and rests it on the side of her tummy where she feels the most kicks. Sure enough, her little peanut wakes up at all the attention and starts kicking. Leo squeaks in surprise, but looks at her auntie with a giggle. 

“That’s the baby?” 

“That’s the baby! That’s your little cousin,” Gretchen confirms. “What do you think?” 

“When they gonna come out?” Leo asks eagerly. “Can I hold them?” 

“They’re not gonna come out for a few more months, they’ll be born around Thanksgiving,” Gretchen says. “But once they’re born you can totally hold them.” 

Layla decides she also wants to feel her tummy. Gretchen gently takes her hand and rests it next to her sister’s. Layla looks at her in shock when the baby kicks her too. “What do you think?” 

“Cool,” Layla murmurs. Even still, she pulls away after a few seconds. Everyone understands and lets her go back to her birthday presents. Leo, however, is completely taken with her new cousin. 

“What kind of baby is it?” 

“What do you mean?” Regina chuckles. 

“Is it a boy baby or a girl baby or an in between baby or a nothing baby or a-“ 

“We don’t know yet,” Gretchen interrupts kindly. “We decided to wait until they’re born to find out if it has a boy body or a girl body. And when they grow up a little bit they can tell us who they want to be, so we’ll find out then too.”

“Oh.” Leo says. “When they gonna be born?” 

“Sometime in November, we have to wait a while,” Regina explains. “About six months.”

Leo looks at her. “Aunt Weggie?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s a months?” 

Cady laughs and picks her up. She carries her over to the kitchen to the calendar. “See all these boxes?” Leo nods. “That’s all the days in this month. Every page in our calendar is a new month. It’s May right now, we have to wait until November to meet the new baby.” 

Leo flips all the pages until she gets to November, counting off how many there are. “That’s too much months!” 

“I feel you, chica,” Gretchen chuckles. Leo runs back over to her. “It’ll go by fast, I promise.” Leo nods with a wide smile and gives her a gentle hug, along with a smooch to her belly. 

“I love you baby cousin.”

—————

“What is the baby going to call us?” Karen yawns as they try to drift off to sleep that night. “We can’t all be the same thing. Cady and Janis did Mama and Mommy, but we have three to pick.” 

“Dibs on Mommy,” Regina replies. Gretchen and Karen both laugh. 

“Okay then. One of us can be Mama,” Gretchen says to Karen. 

“What about the other one?” Regina asks. 

“I was thinking about Mumma,” Gretchen says. “I think that would be cute.” 

“Aww, yeah,” Karen agrees. “Can I be Mumma?” 

“Of course,” Gretchen replies, bending over Regina to kiss her. “I’m Mama, then.” 

“Yeah you are,” Regina purrs, resting a hand on her rounding tummy. “You’re so cute. Look at you. I love this belly.” 

“Thanks,” Gretchen chuckles, kissing her too. “Glad someone is enjoying this pregnancy.” 

“I’m sure they are too,” Karen says. “Must be cozy in there.” 

Gretchen laughs outright at that. Regina nuzzles against her face and kisses her cheek. It’s quiet for a long moment before Gretchen pipes up again. “Do you think it’s a girl or a boy?” 

“I don’t know,” Regina replies quietly. “Is it… is it bad that I hope it’s a boy?” 

“Not necessarily,” Gretchen replies kindly, turning her head so they’re nose to nose. She can faintly see Karen’s silhouette turning to spoon Regina in the darkness. “Why?” 

“I just… feel like a boy would be less likely to… turn out like me,” Regina mumbles. 

“Beautiful and kind and loving?” Karen asks. “What’s the matter with that?”

“You know what I mean,” Regina huffs, turning around to glare at her partner. Karen grins impishly and leans in for a kiss. 

“We do,” Gretchen agrees quietly. “But either way, this kid won’t do the things we did. We’re going to raise them right.” 

“And what if it’s not a boy or a girl?” Karen asks. “They could grow up to be non-binary or something.” 

“They could,” Regina agrees. “Still. I’ll be happy no matter what, I just… would be a little less scared if it’s a boy. Biologically.” 

“That makes sense,” Gretchen says. “And no, I don’t think it’s bad now that I know your reasoning.” 

Regina chuckles through a yawn. “Thanks. What-what about you, KK? What do you think?” 

“I think it’s a boy,” Karen says. 

“Really? I’m almost positive it’s a girl,” Gretchen replies curiously. 

“Oh man,” Regina says. “This really is a toss up. Mother’s intuition or Karen’s sixth sense.” 

“We’ll find out soon,” Karen says eagerly. 

“November,” Gretchen replies. “Getting closer every day.” 

“November,” Karen echoes. 

“November.”

—————-

Regina takes on the task of decorating the nursery by herself. Gretchen helped pick out a few things, being a designer and all, but Regina wanted most of the room to be a surprise. 

Gretchen tried to peek a couple times during the process, sneaking in under the excuse of bringing Regina lunch or wanting to help. Regina seems to have grown eyes in the back of her head and immediately shoos her away every time she has so much as a little toe over the threshold. 

But after almost a week straight of work, the room is complete, and Gretchen and Karen are both allowed to see. Regina comes out to find them, clad in paint stained overalls and covered in sweat, but nearly glowing with pride and excitement. 

“Are you finally done?” Gretchen teases. Regina nods and reaches for her partners, so they both stand and follow her down the hall to the new nursery. 

“Close your eyes,” Regina instructs when they’re just outside the door. Karen and Gretchen both cover their eyes and carefully shuffle into the room as their partner opens the door. “Ready?” They both nod eagerly. “Okay, open them.” 

Karen and Gretchen both take their hands away and look around at the room. Gretchen immediately starts crying, spinning around to look at everything. Karen gets a wide, delighted smile and does the same. 

“Oh my god, Ginny,” Gretchen sobs. “This is perfect!” 

“You like it?” Regina asks shyly. 

“Yes!” Gretchen laughs through her tears, wrapping her partner in the tightest hug she can muster around her growing tummy. 

The walls are a pale, soothing green color, and pasted with adorable dinosaur decals. There’s a matching stuffed one in the crib, and the sheets and curtains are a matching grey polka dot pattern. Gretchen is relieved to see that the shelves are now full of books, bins are full of toys and the dresser is full of clothes. The baby could come at any time now, and they’re finally ready. 

“Did Janis do these?” Karen asks, pointing to a triceratops on the wall. Regina nods. 

“Yep. Paid her full price, don’t worry.” 

“Good,” Gretchen sniffles, wiping her eyes. Regina smiles and cups her face in her hands, brushing more tears away with her thumbs. “You did such a good job, baby.” 

“Thanks,” Regina says, flushing in embarrassment. Gretchen kisses her quickly before moving to keep looking around. 

“Our baby is gonna be in here,” she whispers, holding onto the crib railing. “Eventually.” 

“Can’t wait,” Karen replies quietly, pressing against Gretchen’s back and kissing her cheek. “You’re gonna be the best mama.” 

“You’ll be the best mumma,” Gretchen replies with a smile, leaning back against her. She reaches a hand for Regina to join their little cuddle party. “And you’re gonna be the best mommy.” 

“I dunno about that,” Regina mumbles, hiding in Karen’s neck. 

“We do,” Karen replies, tipping her head at a strange angle to kiss her forehead. “You’ll be a wonderful mommy.” 

Regina reaches to rest a hand on Gretchen’s tummy. “If you say so.” 

“We do,” her partners both reply at the same time. 

“Alrighty then.” 

————-

“Guys!” 

“Shit, Cupcake,” Regina jumps as Karen comes quite literally crashing into the living room. Gretchen also almost jumps out of her skin and rests a protective hand on her bump. “Don’t do that.” 

“Sorry,” Karen says sheepishly. “But I just had the best idea!” 

“What is it, sweetie?” Gretchen chuckles once she recovers from the shock of her entrance. 

“Halloween baby shower!” Karen says eagerly, actually bouncing up and down a couple times. “Everyone can come in costumes and we can play Halloween games and baby games!”

Gretchen and Regina look at each other before looking back to Karen with a nod. “Okay, honey, that sounds amazing.” 

“Yes!” Karen squeals, running back to the study to start planning. They can hear her pause for a second before she comes running back. “We need costumes.” 

“I found these a while ago,” Regina offers sheepishly, switching tabs on her browser to one she’d bookmarked. Gretchen and Karen lean in to see a skeleton costume, with a little baby skeleton in roughly the correct place on the belly. “Gretch could wear this one and then KK and I could just be skeletons.” 

“Awwww,” Gretchen coos. “That’s perfect!” 

“So cute!” Karen squeals again. “Okay, planning!” 

“Have fun, darling,” Regina chuckles as Karen dashes away again to do her favorite thing. 

————-

Karen manages to put together the perfect Halloween party/baby shower in less than a month. Their families all make the trip from Illinois, and their friends all scramble to put their costumes together in time. 

Gretchen does beautiful Dia De Los Muertos skull makeup on her partners and adds some fake flowers to their costumes, including the baby skeleton on the belly of her own costume. 

“I’ve never looked better,” Karen jokes as they all stand side by side to check themselves out in the mirror. 

“Me either,” Gretchen giggles, striking a pose and resting a hand on her belly. 

“Well, it’s true for you,” Karen replies, gently kissing Gretchen on the cheek and trying desperately to not smudge the makeup. 

“Janis sent me something,” Regina says, swiping into her phone and bringing up the video Janis texted her. Gretchen and Karen crowd around her to see.

It’s a sweet clip of the twins barreling around a store, trying to pick a perfect present for their new baby cousin. They both disappear, and then Layla suddenly comes back with some carrots. 

“I found somefing!” 

“Ladybug, those are carrots,” Janis laughs from behind her phone. 

“They’re orange!” Leo calls happily, coming up behind her sister. 

“You’re right,” Cady laughs. “But they’re not great for the baby. They wont be able to eat them before they get yucky. Where did you even find those, how far did you go?” 

“I dunno,” Layla shrugs. Cady laughs some more and gently kisses her daughters’ heads as she takes the carrots away. 

“Let’s pick something else, come on.” 

“Aww,” Gretchen coos as the video ends. “I hope our little one is as sweet as those two.”

“They’ll be sweeter,” Regina insists, ever the competitor. 

The doorbell rings then, so Regina kisses both of her partners’ foreheads and heads to answer it. “Oh my god!”

Damian and Aaron stand on the other side, clad in rather extravagant dresses. Aaron is also green. 

Damian shuffles in pushing his hoop skirt through the door and protectively holding his crown. Aaron follows sheepishly, and Regina can tell he’s blushing under all his makeup. 

“Well, hello, Elphaba and Glinda,” Regina says through her laughter, practically bent double because of the force of it. 

Gretchen and Karen come out of the bathroom to greet their guests, and both also just about collapse on the ground. “Oh my god, you guys look incredible!” 

“I know right?” Damian hums, striking a pose and fluffing out his skirts. Aaron stands aimlessly in his black dress and holding a very nicely wrapped baby present. Karen gently takes it and sends him into the kitchen to adjust a bit more. 

In the meantime, their families all arrive. Gretchen’s parents are dressed as ketchup and mustard, featuring Dylan as relish. Regina’s mom and Kylie are dressed as ‘The Spice Girls’, in fancy wigs and makeup but clothed to look like bottles of thyme and oregano respectively. Karen’s dad is a ‘Ceiling Fan’, effectively dressed as a male cheerleader and holding a sign that says ‘Go Ceiling!’ 

“Hi, come in!” Karen laughs. “You all look great!”

They give hugs and greet everyone until the doorbell rings again. 

“Oh my gosh, look at you guys!” Gretchen laughs as she opens the door to find Cady, Janis and the twins on the other side. The twins are dressed as little lions in clearly handmade costumes, red and orange yarn sewn onto yellow sweatsuits and little whiskers drawn on with Janis’ famous eyeliner. Cady and Janis themselves are dressed in Cady’s old clothes as safari explorers. “You look awesome!” 

“I am a lion!” Layla announces happily, hugging her aunties and uncles in greeting. 

“I see! You’re the coolest lions ever!” Gretchen laughs. Leo shyly walks up and carefully tugs on her auntie’s costume to get her attention. “Hi, sweetheart.” Leo looks at her suspiciously. “Oh, the makeup, I forgot! I’m still GG, honey, it’s okay. I just have on a lot of makeup.” 

“Oh,” Leo says. “Aunt GG?” 

“Mmhmm! Just me,” Gretchen chuckles. 

“This for you,” Leo says, handing over a gift bag. “For the baby.” 

“Oh my gosh, thank you! This is so nice, I can’t wait to see what you got them!” 

“You welcome,” Leo says, hugging her quickly before she goes running off to find her sister. 

“She wanted to give it to you herself,” Cady chuckles as she hugs her friend in greeting. “How are you feeling?” 

“Eh, you probably know,” Gretchen chuckles. “Big.” 

“You look great,” Cady replies. “Take pictures now, though. Trust me.” 

“I will,” Gretchen says. 

“I should probably go make sure the girls don’t destroy everything,” Cady hums. 

“On it,” Janis chuckles. “Hey, Gretch.”

“Hi, Jan,” Gretchen laughs. “Enjoy yourselves, the girls are fine.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Cady sighs. Gretchen leads her in to the party as a whole. Leo comes running over again to greet her mama and auntie. 

She winds up following Gretchen around for most of the evening like a little duckling, seeming perfectly content to just sit with her on the couch and chat about life. 

“When you gonna open presents?” Leo asks after a while, resting her head on Gretchen’s arm and looking up at her. 

“Should we do them now?” Gretchen asks. Leo nods eagerly and runs off to bring them to her. Layla comes running over to help her sister, and helpfully makes an announcement. 

“Time for presents!” 

Regina and Karen sit down on either side of Gretchen and each hold a twin on their lap. Gretchen waits for their other friends to sit down around them to watch before she carefully opens the first present she’s been brought. 

“Dis from us,” Leo explains helpfully. “Me an’ Lala.” 

“Thank you, chickies,” Gretchen says, gently removing the tissue paper to see what’s inside. “Aww!” 

The first thing she pulls out is a white onesie that says ‘Coolest Cousins’ in black letters. Layla taps her tummy and explains, “We have… um… we got shirts to mash.” 

“That’s so sweet,” Karen says. “We’ll take some cool matching pictures when the baby comes.” 

“Dere’s more,” Leo says, helpfully guiding their attention back to the bag. Gretchen laughs and reaches in for the next thing. It turns out to be two things. A teething toy shaped like a giraffe, from Leo, and an elephant shaped rattle from Layla. 

“Aww, these are so nice! They’re gonna love to play with these when they’re big enough, thank you so much, girls!” 

“You welcome!” the twins chirp at the same time. Layla helpfully pushes over the next present for her to open.

Gretchen makes remarkable progress through the gifts with the help of two little lions, and then it’s back to activities and food and family. 

It’s a wonderful day. 

—————

“This baby is taking too long!” Gretchen huffs three weeks later, looking at herself in the mirror. “I’m already a week overdue.” 

“Someone’s grumpy,” Regina teases gently. “They’ll come when they’re ready to. It’s still November, they’re still in the right month. It’ll be fine.” 

“If I’m still pregnant in December, I’m gonna kill someone,” Gretchen grumbles. Regina chuckles and kisses her cheek. 

“But you’re so beautiful,” she murmurs in her ear. “I’m jealous of how nice your skin looks now.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” Regina laughs. “You really are glowing, Muffin.” 

Gretchen gives a content little hum and finally smiles at herself in the mirror. Regina laughs and kisses her cheek again, but Gretchen stops her for a real one before she can pull away. 

Karen comes in then, dropping her work bag on the ground and immediately flipping face first onto their bed with a groan. Regina and Gretchen both turn to see her. 

“Babe, what happened?” Regina asks in concern. Karen grumbles an answer into the pillow. “What?” 

Karen rolls over to stare at the ceiling. “There’s… there’s a conference starting tomorrow, for people in PR and stuff. It’s, like, a really good opportunity.”

“So what’s the problem?” Gretchen asks, going to sit next to her on the bed and pulling her into a hug. 

“It’s an hour and a half away and a week long. I can’t go.” 

“Oh,” Regina whispers. 

“We could figure something out,” Gretchen offers. “An hour and a half isn’t bad, you’d still be close enough to get here in time if I go into labor. First babies always take a long time.” 

“We can’t know that for sure,” Karen sighs, resting her head on her shoulder. Regina sits on her other side and gently squeezes Karen’s hand. “They could come any day.” 

“They could,” Regina agrees. “But we don’t know when. It could be another week or two before anything even starts happening.” 

“Yeah, love, I’m not even having braxton-hicks contractions yet, we have plenty of time before they get here,” Gretchen says. “If you just… kept your phone turned on so we could reach you if something does happen, it would be fine. This is a great opportunity for you. If you want to go we’ll make it work.” 

“Really?” Karen asks. 

“We always do,” Regina concludes. “We’ll figure it out.” 

“Thanks, loves,” Karen smiles. Gretchen leans in to kiss her cheek, and the baby kicks as well. 

“They say you’re welcome,” Gretchen chuckles. “Let’s get you packed.” 

—————

Karen leaves the next morning with the promise to keep her phone on and on her at all times, and after making sure Regina knows what to do in case something happens. 

It all goes smoothly until Wednesday, the final day of Karen’s conference. 

“Regina!” 

“What?! What happened?!” Regina asks as she goes barreling in to check on her partner. 

“My water just broke,” Gretchen says with a sob. 

“Hey,” Regina says gently, as if Gretchen is a skittish little animal. “Why are you crying?” 

“Be-because it hurts, a lot, and I feel gross,” Gretchen wails. “And the baby’s coming and-and KK isn’t here! She’s-she’s gonna miss it!” 

“Oh, fuck, the baby’s coming! I forgot that part!” Regina yelps. “Uh… um…” 

“Stop panicking, that’s my job!” Gretchen sobs. She’s getting progressively more worked up. Regina looks at her and feels the wave of protective partner and motherly instincts wash over her. She takes a deep breath. 

“Come here,” Regina coaxes. Gretchen winces as she shuffles over for a cuddle. “I’m gonna help you get changed real quick and call Karen, and then we’ll go to the hospital and have our baby. KK’s gonna make it. She’d never miss this, you know that.” 

“But she’s so far away!” 

“If we get a hold of her now she’ll still make it in time,” Regina hushes. “Breathe, Muffin, shh.” 

“Don’t shush me! I am in labor with your baby!” Gretchen scoffs. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Regina apologizes frantically as she grabs a flowy and soft dress from the closet for Gretchen to change into. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” Gretchen whimpers. “I’m-I’m just so scared!” 

“I know,” Regina says. “I’m scared too. But I know you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, and you’re gonna get our little one here and you’re both gonna be just fine. And Karen will make it or so help me god.” 

Gretchen finally gives a weak chuckle at that, but it doesn’t last, as she has a sudden and rather violent contraction that leaves her gripping Regina’s arm for dear life. Regina winces as her love’s fingers grasp her so hard they’ll leave bruises, but it’s worth it. 

“Okay, come on,” she says. “Easy.” 

—-

Gretchen is still sobbing near hysterically by the time they get settled in the car, and somehow cries harder with every contraction that hits her. Regina frantically brings up Karen’s number and puts the car in gear at the same time. 

The first time goes to voicemail. “KK, pick up! The baby’s coming, you have to come back! Call me when you get this!” 

“Try again,” Gretchen begs when she ends the message. Regina hits redial. Voicemail, again. Gretchen snatches the phone and dials again. And again, and again, and again, and again. “No!” 

“She’s okay, honey,” Regina soothes, offering Gretchen her hand. “She’ll look at her phone soon, she probably just had something quick to do.” 

“She’s gonna miss it!” Gretchen wails as they pull into the hospital parking lot. 

“No, she won’t,” Regina says, trying to keep her own anxieties and frustrations down. Gretchen is more important right now. “I’ll

keep trying to get a hold of her once we get you settled in.” 

Gretchen nods shakily and slowly follows her over to the check in counter. The receptionist seems to notice that some major things are happening and fetches a wheelchair for Gretchen to be taken to her room. The room. 

She’s quickly dressed in a hospital gown and hooked up to all sorts of monitors. Regina frantically switches between calling Karen and comforting Gretchen. 

“How long has she been having contractions?” The labor nurse asks. Regina checks the time. 

“Her water broke, like, half an hour ago,” she offers. “Were you having contractions before that, Button?” 

“Yeah,” Gretchen whimpers. “Aaaaaah-bout an hour.” 

“Can she please have an epidural or something?” Regina begs, in agony herself as she watches her dear one in so much pain. 

“Oh, honey, you’re way too late for that,” the nurse chuckles. “You’re already in active labor, you have… maybe ten minutes before it’s time to start working this baby out.” 

“What?!” Gretchen shrieks. Regina watches in concern as she suddenly starts hyperventilating. 

“Baby, it’s okay,” she says in a low voice. “Hey. Look at me.” Gretchen does, barely seeming to register she’s there through the fog of pain and anxiety. “You’re gonna be okay. This is gonna hurt, but you’re strong, and you can do it. I’m right here. Deep breaths.” 

“But-but Karen,” Gretchen sobs. “I-I can’t… I can’t do this without her!” 

“You can,” Regina says. “I’m here. I know it hurts that she’s not, but there’s still time. Maybe she’ll make it. But you can absolutely do this. She’ll still get to meet and love on the baby and you just as much after.” 

“It hurts,” Gretchen whispers. Regina bends to kiss her forehead and squeezes her hand. 

“I know,” she murmurs against sweaty skin. “But we’re gonna have our little human at the end of it. So soon.” 

The doctor motions for Regina to keep doing what she’s doing. Gretchen’s contractions are slowing down ever so slightly, along with her heart rate and the baby’s. Apparently panicking is a decent method of speeding along labor. More than they want to.

“You ready?” Regina asks gently. Gretchen shakes her head, but braces anyway. 

Karen suddenly slams the door open and rips off all her things, running full speed over to Gretchen’s other bedside. “I’m here! I’m here, we can have the baby now.” 

“Where the hell have you been?!” Regina demands. “Do you have any idea how many times we’ve tried to reach you?!” 

“Yeah, I was-“

“Both of you shut up!” Gretchen demands. “Fight later, I need both of you right now.” 

-

It all happens in a whirlwind of pain and noise and tears of both agony and joy. Regina and Karen blink, and suddenly, it’s all over. The tears start anew as their baby is rested on Gretchen’s tummy and starts to cry. 

“You did it, Princess,” Regina sobs happily, bending to kiss Gretchen’s sweaty forehead. Karen kisses her cheek and tenderly brushes a hand through her messy hair. “You just had a baby. Look how perfect.” 

“It’s a boy, congratulations mamas,” the nurse grins at them as she cleans off their newborn son. Regina lets out another happy sob. 

“A boy?” 

“Sure looks that way,” the nurse chuckles. Gretchen carefully grabs him and pulls him up higher on her chest. 

“Happy birthday, mijo,” she murmurs tearfully. The baby quiets when he feels her touch and hears her voice. “You’re the most amazing thing.” 

“He’s so tiny,” Karen says in wonder. She smiles as the baby opens his eyes and blinks heavily at her. “Hi, baby emoji. I’m your mumma.” 

Regina laughs at Karen’s greeting and kisses Gretchen again. “I’m so proud of you. You’re so strong, my love. Look how perfect he is.” 

“He still needs a name,” Karen realizes. Gretchen carefully looks down at the small human resting on her. 

“Milo,” she says. “Milo George Smith.” 

“George?” 

“I know you don’t want him to have your old last name. But I want him to have a piece of you,” Gretchen says. 

“What about Wieners?” 

“There is no way that name is touching this baby,” Gretchen insists vehemently. She had been rather quick to change her name after the wedding, even though she hadn’t been one of the ones to be legally married. “Do you have any idea how much teasing I got for that when I was little? Not happening for this kid. He grew in me, he has a big enough part of me.” 

Regina and Karen both chuckle at that. “Well then, welcome to the world, Milo.” 

Gretchen carefully adjusts him so he’s looking the other way. Regina stares at the small face, now back to sleep as he’s squished against his mama. 

“He looks just like you, G,” she murmurs. “Your little button nose, and your skin tone, and your lips.” 

“I dunno where this blond hair came from,” Gretchen chuckles, giving it a gentle kiss. “Our little guy. We’re moms.” 

“We’re moms,” Regina repeats, almost in awe. 

—-

Karen and Regina get to hold him for the first time after he spends a full hour cuddling Gretchen and has his first meal. Karen volunteers to go first, since Regina is still slightly apprehensive. 

Karen smiles wider than her partners have ever seen as their son is finally rested in her arms. “It’s you!” she says happily. “You’re the little guy who was hanging out in there! And here you are!” 

Milo blinks at her a few times, seeming to recognize her voice. Karen giggles when he suddenly hiccups and his eyebrows fly up his forehead in surprise. 

“Excuse you,” she says quietly. She’s silent for a long moment before she releases a sound that sounds like a laugh and a sob at the same time, and shakily whispers, “I have a son.” 

Regina comes up behind her and rests her head on her wife’s shoulder. “You’re both perfect. You’re all perfect.” 

Karen turns her head just enough to kiss the side of Regina’s nose. She kisses the baby’s forehead before she turns around. “It’s your turn.” 

“But-but you haven’t been holding him for that long, it’s okay, I can wait-“

“Ginny,” Gretchen demands. “Hold the damn baby.”

Regina pouts as she’s scolded and watches how Karen’s arms are folded. She does her best to copy them and tenses as Karen ever so gently passes her their baby. 

“Hi,” Regina breathes as she holds her son for the first time. Milo makes a quiet, content sound and stares up at her with deep brown eyes that are a perfect reflection of Gretchen’s. “Hi, sweet boy. I’m your mommy. I love you so much.” 

It hits her then, what Janis told her about all those months ago. Milo looks at Regina. Regina looks back. They don’t speak the same language yet, but all the love they could ever need to convey is shared in a single gaze. The level of trust in the slightly unfocused brown eyes sends a shock through Regina’s core. This is her baby, her son. Her child. Her new little one to love and take care of, and raise into a good person with her partners. Her responsibility, her duty, but her new little love. 

She ever so carefully brings him up closer and peppers kisses to Milo’s wispy blond hair. Milo coos quietly in response. Regina takes that to mean he loves her too. 

“Should we keep him?” Gretchen asks jokingly from her place in bed as she’s finally allowed to eat something. It’s just a popsicle, but it’s better than nothing. “You two are so sweet.” 

Regina looks between her and the little bundle in her arms a few times. Her eyes suddenly well with tears. Gretchen pouts and reaches her free arm towards her. 

“What happened?” 

“I love him so much. He-he’s the most precious thing I’ve ever had,” Regina chokes, trying not to start sobbing and risk upsetting the baby. “I don’t want to let him go.” 

“You don’t have to,” Karen says, kissing Regina’s cheek and rubbing her back as they both look down at their son. “He’s ours.” 

“Just maybe set him down for a little while,” Gretchen yawns. “We need to sleep.” 

Regina sniffles again and carefully rocks Milo back and forth until his baby brown eyes flutter shut, before ever so carefully resting him down in his little cot. “Can we tell people, yet?” 

“Oh yeah,” Karen says. “Here.” 

Regina takes her phone as Karen holds it out and flips to the camera. She holds it firmly in her hands so she doesn’t accidentally drop it on her son as she takes his first ever pictures. 

She sends messages to all their parents and siblings to let them know the good news and that Milo and Gretchen are both okay, and then comes the daunting task of letting their friend group know. 

reginald: Sent a photo: You all have a new nephew. This is Milo George Smith. He and Gretch are both healthy and doing well :) 

sexymouse: 👶👶👶👶👶👶👶 !!!!!!!!!!! 

africabytoto: Oh my goodness what a little nugget!!! Congratulations!! The girls are gonna be so excited! 

a-aron: HELL YEAH ANOTHER NEPHEW 

a-aron: oh and congrats guys :))

snarkisian: you guys had a boy ? 

reginald: Yeah?

snarkisian: damn. i thought for sure it would be a girl 

snarkisian: congratulations guys 

damecupboard: What’s popping gang 

snarkisian: first of all we’re not sixteen anymore never talk like that again pls

snarkisian: second of all scroll up doofus 

damecupboard: HOLY SHIT

damecupboard: Oh my god how adorable!!!!! Congratulations!!!!!!!! 

reginald: Thanks, guys. See you soon. 

Regina puts her phone down and kisses Gretchen on the forehead as she finally drifts off for some much deserved rest. Karen tucks her in a bit and gives her a sweet kiss on the cheek as Regina grabs the baby again. 

“Hi, baby boy,” Regina coos. “Let’s take a nap with Mumma, hm?” 

Karen smiles as Regina settles on the uncomfortable cot in the corner and rests the baby on her chest. Regina looks up when she feels her gaze and smiles back, reaching her free arm out for her. 

“Isn’t be perfect?” Karen whispers as she settles in next to them, peppering kisses to Milo’s head and resting her head on Regina’s shoulder. 

“More than I ever thought he could be,” Regina agrees, gently stroking her fingers up and down the baby’s back. “I’m glad you made it in time.”

“Me too,” Karen murmurs softly. “You have no idea.” 

“I love you,” Regina whispers, resting her head on Karen’s and shutting her eyes to rest. 

“I love you too,” Karen replies. “And you, little boy.”

Milo sneezes as an answer. 

“Bless you!” 

—————

About an hour after everyone wakes up, they’re cuddling their new baby for the first time as a family. 

“We got another video,” Regina says, pulling out her phone to show her partners. 

The video is of the twins as they come running out of the doors of their preschool to their mothers. They can hear Cady off camera as she asks them about their day and gives them hugs. 

“We have a surprise for you,” she says once the twins finish talking about the events of their day. 

“What?” they ask eagerly. 

“Aunt GG had her baby today,” Cady says, barely finishing her sentence before getting cut off by a loud, high pitched squeal from her daughters. Cady shows them the picture on her phone. “Isn’t he cute? His name is Milo.” 

“Milo,” Layla echoes. “Baby!” 

“It’s the baby!” Cady agrees in the same tone. “Should we go meet him?” 

“Yeah, yeah!” the twins say eagerly, politely looking both ways before they go tearing off into the parking lot and the video ends. 

Just then, the door to their hospital room opens. 

“Aunt GG! The baby came!” Leo says happily as she comes barreling in. Cady follows quickly, gently hushing her daughter. Janis follows with Layla, who jumps up and down eagerly once she’s set on the ground again. 

“Remember, quiet voices and gentle touches, okay?” Cady reminds. They both nod seriously and head over to see Gretchen. 

“Hi, guys,” Gretchen chuckles. “Come see your new cousin.” 

Karen and Regina gently help the twins up next to their partner. Leo ever so carefully inches closer and rests her head on Gretchen’s shoulder to see the baby. Layla follows a bit more apprehensively. 

“Baby!” Leo cheers quietly. “He’s tiny.” 

“He is tiny,” Gretchen agrees with a chuckle. “What do you think?” 

“Cute!” Leo nods. 

Layla comes closer for a better look. “He’s sleeping.” 

“Babies do that,” Gretchen says. “They sleep a lot when they’re this little. But he’s gonna grow a whole lot soon, and he’ll be awake more often, then.” 

Cady and Janis head to the opposite side of the bed to see their nephew. Cady coos over the little one as she hugs Gretchen carefully. “I brought you food.” 

“You’re an angel,” Gretchen sighs, passing the baby off to anyone nearby and tearing into the bag. Cady laughs. 

“The only thing I wanted to do after I had them was eat,” she says. Janis takes her turn to hug Gretchen as her wife pulls away. 

“He’s precious, congratulations,” she murmurs. Gretchen smiles at the lot of them. 

“Thank you. This is so good, the food here is awful,” Gretchen says happily, digging into the meal. 

“Oh, and the girls said we absolutely had to bring Milo a birthday cake,” Janis chuckles, pulling a cupcake out of another bag. 

“Aww, thank you girls,” Gretchen coos. “His first ever birthday cake.” 

“Can I hold the little one?” Cady asks, already washing her hands in case they say yes. 

“Of course,” Karen says. Cady reaches out and takes the little bundle of blankets from her. 

“Oh my goodness, hello,” Cady coos quietly. “Aren’t you the sweetest little guy? You look so much like Gretchen.” 

“Can I see?” Leo asks. Cady nods and goes to sit in a chair nearby. Leo crawls in next to her to peek at the baby’s face. Milo opens his eyes and blinks at them, curious at all the new voices he can hear. “He’s awake!” 

“He’s checking out who you are,” Gretchen says. “He probably remembers hearing your voice when he was inside my belly, he wants to say hi.” 

“Hi Milo,” Leo greets. “You a very good baby.” 

Layla comes over and stands on her tippy toes on the other side of the chair. “He’s making sounds.” 

“Babies do that too,” Cady chuckles. “What do you think, Lala?” 

“Can I hold him?” 

“Ask your aunties, that’s their choice,” Cady says. Layla heads over to her aunties as they dote on Gretchen for a while. Regina looks down when she carefully tugs on her pocket. 

“Hi Layla, what’s up?” she greets, crouching down to her height. 

“Can I please hold Milo?” Layla asks kindly. 

“Me too, me too!” Leo cheers. She remembers she’s supposed to be quiet, then. “Oopsies. Sorry Milo.” 

“Yeah, you guys can hold him,” Regina chuckles. “Come wash your hands.” 

“So he doesn’t gets germs?” Leo asks. 

“Yep! You’re so smart,” Karen says as she holds them up to the sink. Each twin carefully scrubs their hands clean before they head back to their mama. Regina heads over with them and carefully takes her son back from Cady. 

“Okay, sit down,” she says to the twins. They both eagerly wriggle into the chair and hold their arms out. “Who first?” 

“Me!” Leo says quietly but energetically. Regina chuckles and adjusts her arms before gently resting Milo in her hold. A few more adjustments and his neck is properly supported, and she’s positive he won’t be dropped. Leo squeals quietly as she holds her cousin for the first time. 

Regina stays close by to help support her child and smiles at seeing the three cousins interact. Leo looks down at him happily and ever so gently drums her little hands against his swaddle. 

“He’s so cute,” she coos. It’s strange hearing a practical baby herself doing a baby voice, but it’s sweet. “I love him.” 

“He loves you too,” Regina says quietly. “You’re his cool big cousins, he’s gonna love you so much. You get to teach him how to do all the cool big kid things, and play with him. I bet he’s so excited to grow enough to play with you.” 

The twins both beam at her. “Layla, do you want to hold him now?” 

Layla nods nervously. Regina helpfully transfers Milo between the twins and adjusts her arms so her baby is secure again. Layla looks down at her cousin for a long moment, just quietly assessing his little face. When she looks back up, her eyes are full of tears. 

“What’s the matter?” Gretchen asks sadly. 

“I love him,” Layla whimpers, protectively holding her cousin closer. 

“Oh, honey,” Regina coos. “He’s looking at you,

look.” 

Layla sniffles and looks down at the baby again, finding him looking back at her with his wide brown eyes. “Hi, Milo.” 

Milo sticks his tongue out in response, making both twins giggle. 

“You can kiss his forehead,” Regina says quietly. “If you want to.” 

Layla carefully bends down and smooches his small head, followed by Leo. Regina takes her baby back to Gretchen while Janis picks up Layla to comfort her. 

“Auntie Karen?” Leo pipes up. 

“Yeah, Leo?” Karen replies.

“Where the other one?” 

“Other what?” 

“Other Milo,” Leo explains. “Where Milo’s Layla?” 

“Oh,” Karen laughs. “There isn’t another Milo, he doesn’t have a twin like you do. He’s the only one.” 

“Oh.” Leo says. Her brow furrows in thought briefly. 

“We can talk about that later, if you want,” Cady explains to her daughter. Leo nods and heads back to Gretchen. 

“How long you gotta live in the hopsital?” she asks as she cuddles up with her auntie. Gretchen laughs and takes the baby from Regina. 

“I think we only have to live here until tomorrow,” she explains. “The doctors are gonna make sure it’s safe for us to go home, and then we get to leave.” 

“He’s cute,” Leo says, peeking at his face again. “Good job, Aunt GG.” 

“Thanks, Lolo,” Gretchen laughs. 

“Uncle D!” Layla calls when she sees him come in the room, remembering to keep her excitement quiet for the sake of the new baby. Leo gently wiggles off the bed to go greet him and Aaron as well. 

“Hi!” Damian says, scooping both twins off the ground. “What do we think of the new baby? Is he cute enough to keep?” 

“Yeah,” the twins nod at the same time. “Come see, come see!” 

“Okay, okay,” Damian and Aaron laugh as each twin takes one of their hands and tugs them in Gretchen’s direction. 

“How are you doing?” Aaron asks as he bends to give Gretchen a hug. 

“You really wanna know?” 

“No thank you,” Aaron laughs. He tips his head to see the baby and coos at his little face. “Aww, he’s such a little dude!” 

“He’s adorable, congratulations,” Damian says as he takes his turn to hug Gretchen. 

“Thank you,” Gretchen hums, adjusting the baby’s blanket so they can see more of his face. The baby wakes up at all the new noises he can hear and looks around. “Oh, hi, baby! Come say hi to your uncles, they wanna meet you.” 

“Can I hold him?” Damian asks. 

“Of course!” Gretchen says. Damian squeals and makes a beeline for the sink to wash his hands. Karen comes over to Gretchen to take the baby so their other friends can meet him. 

Damian sits on one of the chairs and eagerly reaches out his arms. Karen gently rocks the baby before setting him in his embrace. 

“Oh my gosh,” Damian coos. “Aaron, we need a baby.”

“No!” Aaron says immediately. “Babe, you set a cookie on fire yesterday, we’re good for a while.” 

Damian pouts. “But look how cute Milo is.” 

“And me!” Layla says, peeking over his shoulder at the baby. 

“Exactly!”

“Cookie. Fire. No.” Aaron says.

“Hmph,” Damian sighs. “I’ll just keep these, then.” 

“That I can live with,” Aaron chuckles, standing next to his husband and looking down at the baby. “He is really cute.”

“Thanks,” Regina chuckles, cuddled up with Gretchen in the hospital bed. “He has some good genes.” 

Karen manages to squeeze in with her partners for a cuddle while the baby is safe being cooed over by their friends. 

“We’re so proud of you,” Regina whispers against Gretchen’s temple. 

“I couldn’t have done it without both of you,” Gretchen whispers back. “We have another little family member.” 

“The perfect little family member,” Karen agrees. 

“One more person to love,” Regina murmurs. 

The most perfect little person.

—————

tada!! hope you enjoyed!! 

i just realized i think there’s a line in this i should probably explain. in the us, marriages between more than two people aren’t recognized by law, but the plastics still wanted to get married. karen and regina are the ones who got ‘legally’ married (for tax benefits, because gretchen has the richest family) but they had a ceremony for all three of them to be married and they all call each other their wives :) 

anyway!! thanks so much for reading and i hope you enjoyed :)

lots of love,

ezzy

#polystics #polyplastics #poly plastics #the plastics #regina/gretchen/karen #regina george/gretchen wieners/karen smith #regina george #gretchen wieners #karen smith #cady heron #janis sarkisian #damian hubbard #aaron samuels #mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls broadway #mean girls the musical #mean girls on broadway

[hotdemonsummer]

i've been really interested in gender studies lately but i have no idea what to read, do you have anything you recommend?

anon i am kissing you desperately on the mouth rn i hope thats okay

if you're only ever going to read one theorist (which you shouldnt), it should be dr. judith butler. and if youre only going to read one work of theirs, read gender trouble. its her foundational work and definitely their most influential text, and its critical to anyone interested in both feminist works and LGBT studies. however if academic writing is too daunting (which it absolutely can be!), i would recommend gill jagger's comprehensive guide to butler's work

i also recommend that absolutely everyone read susan stryker's my words to victor frankenstein above the village of chamounix: performing transgender rage, even if they're cis. its only a few pages long, but its one of the most personally influential works ive ever read. content warnings for some grotesque examples of transmisogyny, mentions of suicide, a graphic description of childbirth, and rather blunt usage of slurs. (if youre also interested in US LGBT history, stryker has also written several excellent books on that! love her)

also in terms of massively influential work, poet audre lorde's pieces sister, outsider, uses of the erotic, and the masters tools will never dismantle the masters house. (the last two links are download links directly, theyre my own copies of pdfs i uploaded to discord!) and gayle s. rubin's thinking sex. i also recommend kate bornstein's gender outlaw: on men, women, and the rest of us

finally: resources! philpapers is a great site that catalogues and even archives a lot of papers and reviews and categorizes them by topic (ive linked to their philosophy of gender category, and you can browse the subcategories to your hearts content). libgen and sci-hub are both TOTALLY NOT FREE AND EASY TO USE ACADEMIC SEARCH SITES WHERE YOU CAN FIND NON-PAYWALLED WORK IN SECONDS. your own brain is also your best friend when reading theory papers as well! every single person ive listed has had equally valid criticisms made of their work, and you should never take something as 100% gospel because its in a paper. responding critically to a paper is like....80% of all academia. happy reading <3

#i also have a lot more pdfs on specifically race-intersectional feminism and womanism because thats part of what i studied #but i wanted to keep this brief. which was a challenge i spent like 2 hours on this response alone #anyway anon ur my best friend now and id love to hear your thoughts on any of these!!!

[electricbluebutterflies]

Could you do an 'I didn't know I was pregnant prompt' where somehow Abby, who's a doctor and won't ever live it down, doesn't realize that she's pregnant until she's in labor. Possibly with it being conveniently when she's alone bar delinquents, and someone has to go track down Kane and inform him of what's going on.

Canon-divergent from early s3 ish. Also featuring Raven being awesome and Clarke trying not to have a breakdown, so hopefully I wrote those two darlings okay. Content warning for vague / non-graphic and questionably medically accurate descriptions of childbirth. PG13ish for that and also swear words. Also on ao3.

The thing about quiet is it doesn’t last. She should’ve knownbetter.

It’s been a year, maybe a little more than that. Time flowsdifferently here, but one of the kids – and Abby knows they are not that anymore,most of them are so much more capable than her, but in her mind they are stillso small – is pretty sure they saw a snowflake yesterday. So, bit more than ayear. And about a year since she broke down and let herself be reckless and…

All of this hits her in the worst way as she realizes whather body is doing. This pain is not cramps, but she can’t blame herself forgetting confused, it’s been a while since she’s had her normal cycle and-

Yeah. This is what she gets for ignoring her own body aswell as she does. Dammit.

The worst part is, Abby thinks as she paces across herworkspace because so help her she is not letting this nor anything else stopher, she justified everything. Her last implant had expired shortly after shewas widowed, and she’d passed on getting another one because she was on theedge of forty and had zero plans to ever let anyone else touch her and she didn’twant to waste resources like that, and she’d just… forgotten about that detaila year and a half later when she’d gone and taken a new lover anyways. With orwithout the implant, her cycles were always erratic and she stopped trying topredict that ages ago. Nausea got justified when she wasn’t the only person whoate bad meat (turns out mutant might’ve-descended-from-a-raccoon needs to be cookedlonger than that attempt was); a little weight gain because she iseating more, because that’s a possibility now. Said weight pooling in herabdomen is normal enough for a woman her age, right?

She justified everything, she was wrong, and now she is-

Fuck.

Okay, so right now pants are a mistake. They’re soakedthrough anyways, and somehow the idea of someone wandering in and seeing hernaked from the hips down is one of the less embarrassing details of this wholedisaster. Normal people have seven or eight months to process imminent parenthoodbefore it comes. She won’t even have that many hours. Supposedly births getquicker the more a person has had, and given her track record there…

Another wave of pain hits and she grabs the edge of the tablefor support. At least she’s having this crisis – she is trying to use everyword for it but what it is, and she will go through the guilt spiral later – inmedical. Ideal place for this nightmare. If she has to give birth on herown, as is looking more and more likely, at least she is doing so in a safeplace. That’s about the only thing going right here.

There is, after all, the small issue of her partner havingno damn clue about any of this.

Last she checked – and she tries not to hover, she is notthat kind of woman and their more recent trust in each other has eliminatedsome of her tendencies – Marcus is out on a hunting / scavenging daytrip. Whichmeans he may or may not be back before this is over. Either way, explaining howshe managed to be oblivious for close to nine months about something so significantis not going to be a good time and she is more than a little nervous about thatand-

Abby hears the door open behind her. Great. Now thenightmare is complete.

“Are you…” Raven, thank goodness, at least the intruder issomeone who occasionally has common sense. “Screw that, you’re not okay.”

“How willing are you to believe things right now?” Abbyasks, turning her head to look at her friend. Group bonding across generationsis rough, but she sees a different kind of potential in the younger woman thanmost people do. Like this one, if she doesn’t accidentally kill herself beforeshe turns thirty, has some serious untapped leadership potential. And moreimportantly right now, Raven is extremely well-connected and has a highertolerance for crazy than most people. So, again, ideal person.

“From you, pretty cooperative,” Raven shrugs. “What happenedslash who do I need to electrocute?”

“I somehow managed to ignore being pregnant and… it’scoming.” And saying it out loud sounds even more damning than realizing it herselfhalf an hour ago, dragging another person into this mess with her and puttingthat weight on someone who doesn’t need it. “Feel free to judge me.”

“Nah. Not sure what you need me to do but…”

“Get someone. Anyone. Nothing against you as a person but Ido not trust you to-“

Another contraction hits before Abby can sufficientlyexplain why she’d rather not have someone who interacts with technology betterthan people as her backup here. Great. If she factors in the number of timesthis has happened that she really did think were cramps, and how long it’s beensince closing her legs felt like a good idea… shit. Yeah no. There will be noexplaining this to her partner before it’s too late.

“What I’m hearing is radio your idiot and tell him to gethis ass back here as soon as humanly possible but do not tell him whybecause that’ll break him, grab the first person I can find who I’d trust tocatch something and send them in here to help you, and go through the storageroom and hope there’s still baby clothes in that one box I found some in lastmonth. Anything I’m missing?”

If Abby were more mobile, and/or felt less like her body wasabout to explode, she would hug Raven right now. “Yes. I… yes. Thank you.”

“And try to keep this on a need-to-know basis. Far as anyoneelse is concerned, you figured out you were incubating at a normal enough timebut you decided to keep quiet about it because you hate attention. That work?”

“I’m not sure that’s going to be believable when-“

“It’s believable if you’re a couple weeks before your duedate and you can pass that particular dramatic shitshow off as being more aboutthe timing.”

“I’m not sure if you’re an angel or an evil genius.”

“I’d like to think I’m both,” Raven laughs. “Now, if youthink you have enough time here for me to do that, I’m gonna go.”

Abby assesses herself quickly. Unless something somehow goeseven more wrong, she’s got at least half an hour here. “I’ll be alright.”

And again she is alone, she thinks as the door closes behindher. This is… not an absolute worst-case scenario, but pretty damn close. At best,she’s got a lot of explaining to do when it’s all over. At worst…

Describing this as an accident is a serious understatement. Therehas been no conversation about whether or not to have kids together. It neverseemed necessary. They’re older enough that the risk seemed so low, and therearen’t restrictions on that here, and she didn’t think…

She didn’t think. That’s what this all comes down to. A temporaryvacation from her normal instincts and look what that got her. No time tomentally prepare for a tiny vulnerable creature, no time to think about theimplications for her relationship, no time to even find out if her partnerwants this enough to stick around for it, no time to-

Getting closer. She is not attempting to measure herself butshe can feel the process. Timing-wise, she probably is a few weeks earlyhere, in that comfortable space where that won’t mean any problems for thelittle creature and a normal person’s biggest concern would be not being quitedone with their preparations. Whereas she has done no preparations, whatlittle of her fate isn’t in her own hands right now has been entrusted to atwenty-one-year-old who has even less of a baseline for this, and-

It’s all too much, and Abby starts crying. Most confusedemotional release she’s ever had, not sure if it’s stress or fear or pain oranticipation or probably all of those at once. Overload enough that the nextcontraction feels muted by comparison, overload enough to overlook how uncomfortablethis all is.

It’s just a little ironic that this started bent over atable and it may well end that way too, at the rate she’s going. That’ll be funny,in a couple months when any of this can be, maybe.

She hears the door open again and this time multiplefootsteps, this time she is too exhausted to even turn her head, this time-

“Mom? What the hell?”

Limited options, Abby reminds herself. Limited options ofpeople she would trust to be her backup here, and her own – possibly soon to beolder? – daughter is one of them.

“Clarke, I can-“

“Raven filled me in,” Clarke mutters, sounding so familiarlydisapproving. Abby’s always thought her daughter takes much more after her latehusband, but sometimes there are familiar flickers in there. “You basicallyneed me to catch it.”

“Basically, yes. There should be some towels in-“

“I know where things are. Learned my organization systemfrom you.”

“And I can grab stuff,” Raven adds. That would be the secondset of feet, the bright-red jacket Abby can see in her peripheral vision. “Iwould rather not see the nightmare fuel here but I can hold things or whatever.”

“Any luck with-“

Abby swears she can somehow hear Raven roll her eyes. “Wrongperson picked up, but we tried. The group at least knows something is goingdown here and hopefully I yelled enough to-“

The next pain is strong enough to blur Abby’s vision. “Nextone is it.” She’s amazed she can even talk clearly right now, but her presenceis not going away just because she’s in a crisis. She’s gotten through worse. Rarelybeen on this end of it, rarely felt so helpless, but she will not let anythingstop her. “Be ready.”

Around her, the girls attempt as much prep as they can. Abbydoes not know what they’re doing, does not think about it. There is only this. Thereis her, and the little creature that is about to exit her body, and her olderchild who is surprisingly calm about all of this, and another member of theirfamily who is at least trying to do the same, and a black hole where herpartner should be and-

She screams.

She lets it be a blur. She does not want to remember thesefew moments.

She knows one of the girls is hovering under her with alarge towel in hand, and the other one is yelling, and she doesn’t know whichis which and she doesn’t care. She knows that this is at least a familiar pain,and the first part is the worst, and the little creature – now officially hersecond child, she will let herself process that later – is slick andcooperative and how the child of two such stubborn people is so easy to dealwith in its first moments she does not know but-

“I have a little sister,” Clarke says somewhere in thebackground.

Abby wants to collapse. Wants to sleep for a very long time.She focuses on her body, on all the things she knows. There is still pain, waitingfor the afterbirth to come out. She suspects she’s torn but not as badly as itcould’ve been, and her breasts ache and at some point soon that too will beuseful, and-

She fades out. Exhaustion is a wonderful thing. She knowsher body will do what it needs to, and she trusts the girls enough, and… shecan’t do this anymore.

When she wakes up, she’s somehow been moved to the cot –which means someone else has seen her questionable condition, great, just whatshe doesn’t need – and she’s in a clean shirt and someone has placed cold clothbetween her legs to help the hurting and-

“You really didn’t know?”

She’s not awake enough for this shit.

Abby turns her head and yep, there is her partner (but howmuch longer can she call him that, she wonders) in a chair someone must’vebrought in, looking at her like he does not know where to start but he has alot of questions. It’s been a while since she’s had to interpret that look, andshe is concerned.

“I didn’t know,” she repeats. “You’ve known me since we werechildren, you know I can justify anything, I thought-“

“Alright.” And now for the scary-calm. That particularversion has evolved over the past year and a half or so, as Marcus has learned howto be more of a person, but she still knows it too well. He’s harder to readthis way, and more dangerous to those around him. “When I found out… I thought…”

“Do you really think I would’ve hidden this from you if I’dknown?”

“I had to ask.”

“I wouldn’t… I just went through hell,” she hisses. “Involuntarily.Again. And I wouldn’t have had to if I’d paid more attention to myself but youknow I don’t-“

“I believe you.”

She’s not sure she believes him right now, but she isstill too exhausted to move so that fight can wait a day or two. “Where is…” Shedoesn’t know the right word. My daughter? Ours? Which of those will hold longer?

“Raven’s looking after her. You needed to rest, and… I canlook after you here, Raven can keep the baby in her workshop except when sheneeds to feed.”

Abby rolls her eyes. Yeah, keep a newborn in the mostdangerous place in the settlement, great idea. On the other hand, Raven’sspace is at least warm. “And you’re…”

“Still processing,” Marcus finishes. “Someone tried to radious but we were a few miles out, and when we got back I didn’t have time tothink before someone shoved what looked like a bundle of towels in my arms and…”

“It is yours. If that was going to be your next question.”

“It wasn’t. But good to know.”

“I just… I ignored everything, and I…”

He reaches out for her hand, and even that feels like toomuch physical contact right now but it’s a nice gesture anyways. “I’m notblaming you.”

“Well that’s new,” she mutters. He’s been decent for a year,she should have more faith, but… “Are you going to stay?”

And now for the look of stunned horror, the wide eyes and haltedbreaths and for a moment she’s broken him. “Am I… how is that a question?!”

“You are aware how many bad choices I’ve made here…”

“You’ve always been a little impulsive,” he counters. “And stubborn.And usually right. And I don’t know why you think this kind of innocent mistakewould push me away.”

“It’s a screaming liability of a mistake?”

“It’s ours. And I want… if you want…”

“Yeah. You’ve never done this before. You do not realize thehell you’ve just volunteered for.”

“I’m with you. How bad could it be.”

He leans down and kisses her forehead, and the scratch ofhis beard is way too much, and… yeah. They’ll be okay.

#ebf talks to anons #kabby #ebf writes fic

[foundtherightwords]

Love in a Storm - Chapter 7

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham (Regency AU)

Summary: A devastating loss threatens the happy marriage of Edward and Christine Munson, Lord and Lady Hurtsfield. However, when Edward is accused of a crime he didn't commit, Christine has to set her grief aside and embark on a perilous journey to prove her husband's innocence.

Warnings: childbirth, stillbirth, infertility, angst, false accusation, wrongful imprisonment, legal drama, some violence (non-graphic), some smut (non-explicit)

Chapter warnings: implied violence/blood

Chapter word count: 4.1k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

Chapter 7

The slums of Whitechapel were no place for a lady, especially at night. It didn't have the alluring air of illicit pleasure like Covent Garden, or the desperate yet dashing air of a criminal den like the Rookery of St. Giles. It was simply desperate. The fitful light of the gas lamps was soaked up by the filth piled high on the streets, unable to penetrate into the depth of their narrow lanes and alleys. The noises from the taverns were vicious rather than lively, the shouts of drunken men and women mixed with the crying of children, and the people had a harsh, hopeless look to them, as though life had trodden them down so much that they saw no reason to go on living, and just drifted along, waiting for it all to end.

When venturing into Whitechapel, the best outcome one could hope for was to walk out without one's purse. Sometimes, one would not even walk out at all.

So yes, these slums were no place for a lady. But this lady was at the end of her ropes, and venture into them she must.

Following Murray's advice, Christine had informed the Misses Hargrove of her intentions to find Henry Creel. They had been understandably concerned, but she'd managed to convince them that it would help Edward, and Murray had assured them that he would be having his informants follow them at a discreet distance at all times, and eventually, the sisters had relented. However, for all of Murray's confidence in their scheme, Creel proved to be more slippery than an eel. Though Christine continued to accompany Beatrice and Minerva on their daily rounds to all the slums and workhouses, Creel made no appearance. They questioned all the inmates at the workhouses and the inhabitants of the slums, some of whom did report seeing a fair-haired stranger around, but he never conversed with any of them nor give any indication of where he was staying.

The trips weren't wholly wasted, though. The more Christine saw of the slums and their appalling conditions, the more she understood why Edward had been so passionate about improving them, and the more her anger towards him was stripped away. One could not witness such misery without wanting to do something, anything about it. And the more she understood and admired Edward for what he'd been trying to do, the more she yearned to free him from prison. He was only trying to do the right thing, and he was unjustly punished for it.

And yet the key to his release remained elusive.

Perhaps Creel didn't dare follow her in broad daylight, with so many people around. If he had seen her - and provided that he was loitering around the slums, he couldn't have missed her, as the Misses Hargrove always made their presences known - Christine suspected that he would wait until dark to make his move. Murray agreed with her, but when Christine tentatively brought up the idea of her going out after dark, the barrister put his foot down. It was too big of a risk, he said, and he couldn't rely on his informants to keep an eye on her in the dark.

Christine was forced to comply, until she learned that the trial was set for April 17th.

"But that's next week!" she exclaimed to Murray. Panic chilled her chest and sent burning bile to the back of her throat. "Why so soon?"

"They have already decided on the verdict," Murray said grimly. "The trials are just for show. The only reprieve we have is that the prisoners are going to be tried separately, and his lordship's trial is last. Five of them have pleaded guilty, so it should give us about a week to ten days at the most, to prepare."

"Who is going to be tried first?" Christine asked dejectedly.

"Arthur Thistlewood." The ringleader. Naturally. The Privy Council would want to secure his guilty verdict, so all the others would look guilty by association.

A week to ten days, to find a dangerous man that didn't want to be found, while it had taken them a fortnight just to find Jane. Christine decided she couldn't keep taking precautions while Edward wasted away in prison. And so she had recruited Owens.

"Accompany you where, my lady?" the butler had asked, wide-eyed with shock, when she first breached the subject to him.

"To the slums."

"But—my lady—you can't—"

"I need to gather some information that could help his lordship," she said. If she gave a detailed explanation, Owens might refuse, so she kept it as vague as possible. "I know it's not safe, that's why I need you to accompany me. Please."

In the end, Owens had reluctantly agreed. To Christine's surprise, he'd even brought along an old pistol. "I was in the Peninsula," he said, by way of explaining, and Christine had nodded at him gratefully. Almost all of the servants hired in London had given their notice after Edward's arrest, but Owens had stayed on. He might be a snob, but he was a loyal snob. Christine reminded herself to be nicer to Owens from now on.

As Christine picked her way through the cobblestoned streets of Whitechapel, she was reminded of another night, four years ago, when she had been lost on a street just like this in Covent Garden, heartsick and frightened out of her wits, only to run straight into Edward. It was the night they had first met, and also the night he'd proposed to her. What an unconventional courtship they'd had. The memory brought a smile to her lips, but it quickly vanished when she was reminded of her task. Edward had saved her that night. Now it was her turn to save him.

She kept walking, intending to go a full circuit of the slums before the night was out. She turned off the busier thoroughfare and headed down a quiet lane. Here, away from the taverns and the public houses, people wandered about listlessly, men and women and children, clad in little more than rags, their eyes furtive or sullen or, worst of all, completely expressionless. Some of the livelier ones glanced at Christine as she walked past, or even followed her. Low voices in strange languages reached her ears; she could make out their pleading tone, but she couldn't tell if they were Italian or Greek, Russian or Polish, and the unfamiliar tongues lent their words a sense of menace. She had taken care not to bring any money with her to prevent a recurrence of the scene outside the St. Andrew Holborn workhouse, but even so, she felt fear creeping up her back like icy fingers.

As she approached the docks, the crowd thinned. The only sounds remaining were her footsteps, and, behind her, those of Owens, fainter, slower, but always there.

But were those the only sounds? Somewhere in the distance, Christine heard a high, thin noise that became shriller and shriller as she drew near. A scream, she realized. Someone was screaming at the top of their lungs, a terrified and terrifying sound. It was coming from the direction of the docks.

And, as if awakened by that scream, the inhabitants of Whitechapel trickled out from their houses, rooms, and street corners, one by one at first. Then, as the scream continued, they came by droves, temporarily invigorated by the prospect of someone else's misfortune, the vacant look in their eyes replaced by a ghoulish curiosity. They rushed down the mouth of the alley, toward the docks, and Christine couldn't do anything other than getting swept along with them.

A crowd had already formed by the dockside, next to a tower of old crates and ropes. The scream turned into sobs, while other shouts and cries went up, no less terrified. Some fell back upon seeing whatever was behind the crates, their eyes popping, hands clamped over their mouths. Others were rooted to the spot, too petrified to move. A woman ran past Christine, crossing herself, muttering, "Il Diavolo!" Christine's grasp of Italian might be strenuous, but even she could tell what that meant. The Devil.

Nobody seemed to pay attention to the screamer - a young woman around Christine's age. She stood to the side of the crowd, shaking like a leaf, tears streaming down her face, pressing a corner of her shawl to her mouth, as if to hold the screams inside. Christine went to her. "What happened?" she asked.

The young woman turned her huge eyes upon Christine, eyes filled with fear and incomprehension, and only kept shaking.

Christine reached out a hand and tentatively took hold of the young woman's limp, ice-cold fingers, pressing them gently. "Do you speak English?" she said, bending closer so the young woman could hear her over the noise of the crowd. "Could you tell me what happened?"

Perhaps it was the touch of Christine's hand, or perhaps it was her soft voice, but somehow the young woman came out of her daze and slowly lowered the shawl from her mouth. "It's—it's—Patsy—" she said, her Irish brogue still obvious despite her tremulous voice. "I told her not to go with that man... but she just laughed... she said, 'A wee lad like him? I can handle ten of him!' And—and now..."

"What man? What does he look like?" Christine asked.

"Never seen him before. He was good-lookin' enough, that's why poor Patsy—" The young woman clamped the shawl to her mouth again to suppress a whimper. "But I didn't like the look in his eyes. And that scar..."

The icy fingers of fear gripped Christine's heart once more. A constable's whistle rang out sharply in the distance, causing the crowd to scatter like leaves in the wind, and she finally had a good look at what was behind the crates - a woman lying on her back, her neck bent at an unnatural angle, her chest a mass of gaping wounds, from which still oozed a viscous-looking liquid that glistened darkly under the dim light of the gas lamps.

***

Christine didn't remember how Owens had gotten her away from the docks and back home. She only had a dim memory of the cab ride, and next thing she knew, she was in the parlor, with a glass of brandy in her hands and Owens telling her, "This folly cannot continue, my lady. I'm sorry, but if you insist on my accompanying you to places where women could be carved up like pieces of meat like that, then I shall have to—I shall have to hand in my notice!" Apparently, this was the worst deed Owens could think of.

She hardly heard him. All she could see was the woman by the dock and the wounds on her chest; all she could hear was the screaming of the victim's friend. It was Creel, she had no doubt of it. What had poor Patsy done that had caused him to unleash his wrath on her? Had she refused his advances? Had she demanded too high a price for her service? Or perhaps she had simply caught him in a bad mood. Jane's words came circling her mind, echoing horribly in her ears. He is mad because I dared to stand up to him... He enjoys inflicting pain... He calls them animals... How could such a monster be reckoned with? How could she even hope to discover him?

Thistlewood's trial started on Monday. Christine was too nervous to attend, but Murray did and reported back diligently. According to him, the witnesses' testimonies were believable, but it was clear they had memorized these events - when cross-examined, they tended to repeat them exactly, like schoolboys reciting their lessons. Murray believed he could use this to his advantage. But clearly, it wasn't enough of an advantage for Thistlewood, as he was found guilty after two days of trial.

In the week that followed, one by one, his co-conspirators were also found guilty.

Despite orders from the government forbidding the reporting of the trials, some papers still went ahead, as the sensational story was too good for their business to be passed up. In the days leading up to Edward's trial, the papers went into something of a feeding frenzy. A peer, to be tried for treason! Such a thing was unheard of, and a sure sign of the government's impartiality and the power of justice! Christine could only laugh bitterly at all the headlines. If Edward had been a wealthy man, if he had been on friendly terms with members of the Privy Council, if he hadn't spoken against the government so publicly, he would've gotten away with murder.

The papers tried to excavate, and, in some cases, even fabricate, any lurid detail they could about Edward and the Munson family. The servants reported being accosted by unscrupulous journalists on the streets, and the more brazen ones had taken to encamp outside their house. Finally, unable to endure it any longer, Christine ordered Owens to stop buying papers and to keep the front door and the shutters firmly closed. She was only glad that the papers hadn't been able to find out about Jane, though she hated the idea of the girl alone in that little room in Southwark, with nothing but her own fear for company. But to move her would be too dangerous. The Misses Hargrove had found her passage on a ship to America and had written to their friends in Philadelphia, asking them to take Jane in. Now they only had to wait for the ship's departure.

It was not being able to see Edward that made the waiting so painful. To help him prepare for the trial, Christine had sent him some fresh clothes and a cheering letter, even though it was short and pale compared to all the things she wished she could have said to him. Those things were held in her heart; her mind could not form them into words, her hand could not put them to paper. If she could only see Edward, she could let him know. But after Murray heard about the murder in Whitechapel, he had explicitly told all three women to cease their wandering about the slums at once, even during the day.

If it hadn't been for that, she would have risked another trip to Coldbath Fields to visit Edward before his trial. Murray insisted she only left the house in a case of absolute necessity, and she was unable to convince him that visiting her husband was absolutely necessary. In fact, she'd had to grudgingly admit he was right. The thought of Creel lurking out there was enough to freeze her blood with terror, while a fire burned in the pit of her stomach for Edward. Christine existed in a perpetual state of restlessness as the two feelings fought each other for control, sending her into wild palpitations. One minute her heart was hammering in her chest and her blood burned in her veins, the next it was slowing almost to a stop, causing her extremities to go numb with cold. Worst of all, Edward's time was running out, and she was besieged in the house, powerless to do anything to help.

Of course, there was one other way to help Edward - Joshua Craven, the Duke of Hauxwell. Christine had tried to push the idea to the back of her mind while she focused on finding Creel. When there were only a few days left before Edward's trial, though, it had crawled to the front again and refused to budge. She was well aware that the chances of her finding proof of the bribery might be slim, and that Hauxwell was not to be trusted, but as the guilty verdicts piled up, the battering ram of anxiety started wearing down her rational mind. This inactivity was unbearable. She had to try to save Edward, by any means necessary.

***

Christine's hand trembled slightly as she lifted the heavy, ornate knocker on the front door of the Hauxwell's residence. Her apprehension had nothing to do with Henry Creel - the mansion was on one of the most fashionable streets of Mayfair, and it was the middle of the day; she doubted Creel would be so bold as to follow her here. No, it was because of Joshua himself. It had been nearly four years since she'd last seen him, and she didn't know how he was going to receive her. She briefly touched Edward's letter, which she had stuffed into her bodice, to remind herself why she was here. Edward trusted her. So she needed to trust herself as well.

When the door was opened, she presented her card and was ushered into the front hall. Compared to their modest townhouse, this was a veritable palace, richly furnished with the most fashionable mahogany furniture, silk damask hangings, and Oriental carpets. Christine looked at it all with a critical eye, noting that there seemed to be rather too many marble pillars, too many gold-leafed friezes, too many crystal chandeliers, too many gilt candlesticks and gilt-framed pictures and objets d’art, all piled up in an ostentatious display of wealth. Her mouth quirked up wryly. Clearly, the Duchess of Hauxwell had had a generous dowry.

As she reflected on the Duchess, another thought struck Christine. Despite their simple furnishing and general clutter, their townhouse here in London and Hurstfield Hall both had the feel of a home, a lived-in place filled with life and love. This house was as cold and silent as a tomb, its lack of human warmth only heightened by all the rich decorations. Christine wondered where the Duchess and her two young daughters were, and what their life with Joshua was like. Suddenly she felt sorry for the woman whom she'd once considered her rival, though they'd never met.   

The butler, who was just as ostentatious as the house, reappeared. "His Grace shall receive you in the drawing room, madam," he said. Christine had chosen to go alone to be discreet, but now she found herself wishing she had brought Owens along. He would've given this butler a run for his money.

More gold and crystal and silk and velvet awaited in the drawing room. Christine stood by the fireplace, which was so big it threatened to swallow her up, and tried to gather her thoughts. She wouldn't be able to secure concrete proof of the bribery, she knew - it was not as if Hauxwell had it written down in an account book and would give it to her willingly - but perhaps she could appeal to his sympathy, or his ego, and convince him to use his influence on Lord Sidmouth and the Privy Council.

The door behind her opened, and Joshua strolled in, still looking as handsome as ever. Her heart skipped a beat, though she quickly realized it was a mere reflexive reaction born out of habit. She felt nothing for him now save for a mild contempt, and from his cold smile, it appeared the feeling was mutual.  

"Lady Hurstfield," he said. "It has been some time since we last met. Won't you sit down?"

Christine's pride stung when she remembered at their last encounter, she'd told Joshua that he would never see her again. But she said nothing and sat down on a luxurious-looking but uncomfortable chair.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Joshua asked, as a maid served them tea before beating a quick retreat. Christine took note of the girl's fearful glance at Joshua.

"Lord Hauxwell," Christine replied, trying to force some warmth into her voice. "Forgive my imposition, but I'm in need of your assistance. No doubt you have heard of the charges against my husband..."

Joshua's eyes went, if possible, even colder, but he only gave an almost imperceptible dip of his head and said, "Yes. My condolences. It must be quite hard for you."

He spoke as if Edward was already dead. Christine felt an angry retort rising to her lips, but she reminded herself to remain civil. Being sharp with him would not help Edward. "Thank you," she said.

"So how can I be of assistance?"

Christine licked her lips, which had gone dry. "I know the Home Secretary, Lord Sidmouth, is your godfather. I was wondering... if you could... if you would be so kind... to acquire me an interview with him, or speak to him on my behalf, and convince him to remove those charges."

A slow, condescending smile appeared on Joshua's face, mocking her naïveté. "You are well aware I cannot do that," he said. "Any connection I have with Lord Sidmouth is strictly personal."

"And yet you didn't hesitate to use your own money to pay off witnesses for him," Christine retorted before she could stop herself. At least she had the satisfaction of seeing Joshua waver for a moment. Obviously, he'd expected her to come begging on her knees, not attacking him with all her guns blazing.

"How do you know that?" he asked.

"I have my way," she said. She wasn't going to make life even more difficult for Mrs. Adams and her children by revealing her as the source.

Joshua eyed her for a moment, probably to calculate how much she really knew. She returned his look with a calm, impassive gaze. Then his lips curled up in an imitation of the smile that had once gotten her weak at the knees. "It appears we both have what the other wants, Lady Hurstfield," he said. "Why don't we work out a trade?"

"What do you mean?" Christine asked warily.

Joshua left his seat and walked over to her. Refusing to look up at him, she got to her feet as well. When he pressed on, she turned away from him and headed toward the fireplace. Joshua faltered a moment, then followed her.

"I shall ask Lord Sidmouth to drop the charges against your husband," he said, leaning an arm against the mantelpiece. "And in return..."

Christine hated to ask, but she did anyway. "What do you want?"

Joshua glanced at the door, making sure it was still firmly shut. Then, with that horrible, patronizing smile still pasted to his face, he lifted a hand to her face. Christine whipped her head away, so only the back of his fingernails dragged across her cheek. "My dear Christine," he said, "you know I've never stopped loving you..."

"You've got a funny way of showing it," Christine hissed through her teeth. Every fiber of her being was screaming at her to leave, to get away before she suffered worse humiliation, but she was hemmed in - Joshua had placed his hands on the mantelpiece on both sides of her, and the fireplace was behind her.

"Oh, I wish you would stop holding a youthful mistake against me," Joshua said lightly, as though he hadn't broken her heart by discarding her, and then hadn't degraded her further by offering to make her his mistress. "I'm not asking for your forgiveness. All I'm asking for is one last chance to show my love for you," he murmured, lifting his hand to stroke her cheek and her neck again. "Just one night... or even right now... Amelia and the girls have gone to my country estate. No one has to know..."

Anger and disgust rose within her. Her skin crawled from the slightest contact with Joshua; even the heat from his body was unbearable. She shouldn't have come here. She should've listened to her instinct. Joshua would never help her, even if she accepted his horrible proposal. He simply enjoyed toying with her, enjoyed her desperation and mortification. He was as much of a monster as Creel was, even if he didn't inflict bodily harm on others.

Her shame turned into fury. "You bastard!" she snarled.

Her knee went up and caught Joshua between the legs. As he yelped out in pain, she shoved him backward and away from her, sending him crashing into the back of a chair and sprawling on the floor.

Christine watched him struggle to get up, wishing she could give him another kick for good measure, but she didn't want to be arrested for assault.

Just then, the door flew open and the butler came in. "Is something the matter, Your Grace? I heard shouting—" His eyes widened as he took in Joshua rolling around on the carpet, whimpering, with Christine standing over him like an avenging Fury.

"Oh, I'm afraid His Grace has had a bit of an accident," she said sweetly. "Could you take care of him, please?" And, leaving the butler staring after her in shock, she stalked out of the Hauxwell mansion.

Chapter 8

A/N: Some readers felt that Joshua/Jason got away with it too lightly in "Love in a Mist", so here's my just dessert for him. It may not be that big of a deal, but I want Christine (and the reader) to have that cathartic satisfaction of kicking the jerk down :))

Also, some spice is coming next chapter!

#hellcheer #eddissy #hellcheer fic #hellcheer au #regency au #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #hellcheersource

[brittababbles]

Brand New

Whiskey x reader 

Warnings: Well… Not exactly post-partum depression, I don’t think. More like new mom jitters, but I guess it could raise some ppd red flags?? Brief, non-graphic descriptions of childbirth. Jack being a sweetie because he is.Presented as a directors cut - aka without proofreading or editing. I’m spitting out random drabbles again, if that’s a warning? Enjoy, all!

 Jack Daniels prided himself on his ability to roll with the punches, for the most part. After all, it kind of came with the job. Being a Statesman meant being ready for just about anything, just about at any time. He knew that, and he’d learned to live by it. Changes, big ones as well as little ones, always seemed like they were right around the corner.

The last couple years had been full of big changes. He’d – by some miracle he still didn’t completely understand – gotten to marry his best girl, his best partner, and his best friend, all rolled into one incredible woman. He’d bought a tidy little horse farm about fifty miles outside Louisville with that very same girl, and somehow fallen even deeper in love with her. He’d pulled back on field work, taking on a heavier roll in training the new, junior Statesmen in order to stay closer to home. His wife (wife! It was still surreal) had, rather abruptly at the time, taken a desk job at headquarters. That had initially taken some explaining; Champ had been less than thrilled at the prospect of losing two of his strongest field agents in the span of six months, until Ginger Ale had produced the ultrasound to prove a completely reasonable explanation for the request. Every moment he spent with his wife had drawn a kind of bliss out of Jack he hadn’t experienced in decades, if at all.

And two days ago, she’d given him a baby girl.

It was a whirlwind of memories and emotions. He vividly remembered blatantly panicking when she’d started having contractions. He remembered getting stuck behind a tractor on the road to the hospital, an event that raised his own blood pressure far more than his unflappable wife’s contractions seemed to be raising hers. He vaguely remembered long hours of ice chips and people he didn’t know sticking their hands on and in parts of his wife that he didn’t like other people touching. And he remembered the words she’d chanted at him as her fingers tightened around his.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay,” she’d breathed, as if he were the one that needed comforting in all of this.

Though when the doctor placed their daughter on his wife’s chest – a pink, squirming little person with his own dark hair and her mother’s composure – his vision had blurred with tears so badly that the nurse had to guide his hands to cut the umbilical cord. Funny that a man who could shoot a play card in half at a hundred yards couldn’t stop his hands from shaking long enough for this one moment, he thought afterward, but nobody seemed to hold it against him. His wife had wiped his tears away with her thumb as she cupped his cheek with one hand, cradling their newborn with the other.

The night at the hospital had been thankless as nurses popped in every two hours to check that mom and baby were still alive and breathing. The procedure that accompanied hospital discharge the next morning had taken much longer than Jack had considered necessary and provided the new parents with a small ream of printed handouts that Jack suspected he’d never see again. He’d spent almost twenty minutes hunting for the car in the oversized parking garage, and at least another thirty fiddling with the brand new, untouched car seat in the back seat of the car while his bemused wife and a slightly impatient nurse’s aid watched. Then, he’d taken his little family home.

They’d been greeted by his mother, his wife’s parents and oldest sister, and about half the senior staff of Statesmen. Tequila had slapped Jack on the back as if he’d had anything to do with the events of the last twenty-four hours. The entire group had taken turns cooing over the baby, who managed to make thoroughly puzzled expressions at every new face she met. There were pink balloons and teddy bears and a cake bearing a welcome message to the newest Daniels. His sister-in-law, a mother of four in her own right, had agreed to spend the first month in their guest bedroom while her brood hung out at their grandparents. The festivities had lasted a good two hours before Jack met [y/n]’s eyes and had seen the same exhaustion that had settled into his bones reflected there.

Once the house was again blissfully quiet, Jack had watched as she nestled their little one into her new bassinette, crawled into bed beside him, and promptly passed out in a dead sleep. Jack had followed nearly immediately.

It was going so well. Jack honestly couldn’t recall being happier.

Which was why, when he left his sister in law pacing the floor of the nursery with the baby, he was shocked to find her curled up in their bed, facing the wall away from him, clearly sobbing while simultaneously trying to stifle the fact that she was crying.

“Baby?” he asked from the door.

No answer. She didn’t react as if she’d heard him. He approached carefully, the jubilation he’d felt for days seeming to leak out of his shoulders.

“[Y/N]?” he said softly.

His knees bumped the edge of the bed before he sank down onto them, half shuffling on his knees, half crawling, toward her. He was bewildered, stunned. She never cried. Something must be terribly wrong.

She rolled over to look at him as his weight shifted the balance of the mattress. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy, and her lips swollen from biting them. It still took his breath away at how beautiful she was.

“[Y/N],” he repeated weakly, “what…why…are you okay?”

She managed a halted, stuttering sort of humorless laugh.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice shaking.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he urged, settling down onto his hip to lay next to her.

She winced, as if whatever flitted through her mind were something to be ashamed of.

“My boobs hurt,” she finally said slowly. Then, picking up steam, “My boobs hurt, and I’m fat and ugly. Our baby hates me. And I cry at those stupid abused animal commercials all the time now.”

Jack just gawked at her.

“You… baby, you’re not fat and ugly,” he said.

She scoffed.

“You just had a baby, [Y/N]. You aren’t fat, you’re healing. And you have no idea how beautiful you are.” He recognized that he sounded like he was pleading with her.

She sniffled a little, eyes widening as he scooted closer to her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close enough that he could bury his nose in her hair.

“I won’t argue with you about the commercials. And I can’t say whether your boobs hurt but if they do, I won’t say. They look good though,” he added, glancing down at her swollen breasts in appreciation.

That earned him a half smile as she rolled her eyes. He laughed softly, earning a slightly wider smile before her face fell again.

“But our baby doesn’t hate you,” he said seriously.

She averted her eyes from his again. Her bottom lip trembled.

“Why does she cry when I hold her then? She’s so good for my sister. She’s quiet for you,” she muttered, her voice cracking a little.

“Honey, look at me,” Jack said firmly.

She did. Her eyes were filling with tears again, wide, and – for the first time Jack could remember – begging for his assurance.

“She doesn’t hate you,” he said, speaking slowly and clearly, giving each word the gravity he felt it deserved, “she adores you. Three days ago, she was inside you. You’re all she’s ever known, sweetheart. She cries for you because she knows you’ll take care of her. You always have.”

He didn’t mean to make her cry again, but all the same her tears spilled over. Immediately, he pressed his lips to her cheeks, his tongue lightly darting out to catch the salty tears there. She giggled through her tears as he tightened his hold on her.

“Why does she settle right down when you hold her, then?” she asked, her voice wavering.

“She’s just like her mama,” he answered, pressing his lips to her forehead.

She laughed again, settling into his arms. They were both quiet for several minutes, listening to each other breath.

“I love you, Jack,” she finally said, her voice muffled as her face was pressed against his neck, “You’re such a good father.”

He smiled gently.

“I love you too, sweetheart. You’re doing so good with her. You’re a great mama and we’re gonna learn how to do this together, okay?”

He leaned back to see her eyes again. She nodded, smiling fully now.

“It’s all brand new,” he added, grinning at her.

And then she leaned in to kiss him.

What he’d done to deserve this woman, he swore he’d never know. He was just beyond overjoyed he’d gotten her.

#whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey #agent jack whiskey daniels #kingsman the golden circle #swb writes #it's baby fever o'clock #pedro pascal

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) Apollo

Pairing: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 1784

Warnings: Non-graphic childbirth, corny

Broken Bone

...

Her labor pains began in the late afternoon as she was taking a stroll with Hvitserk. The sun began to set as they walked by the beach. The sun’s rays did little to warm the city as the waves of the sea pushed the winds upon them.

Hvitserk thought a small amount of sun would do her good, though Ivar complained that she was too far along to be strolling about. Artemis agreed to the outing, happily looping her arm with her brother in law, much too tired of being cooped up in her chambers. It was the first time she decided she would rather be in the cold than by the hearth.

She had the pace of a snail now, but Hvitserk didn't mind. He smiled knowing a mindless stroll brought her glee.

They made simple small talk, mostly Hvitserk explaining his new lover. Artemis knew of the girl and has met her a few times in formal settings. Her name was Thora, a pretty thing with pretty features, light hair, and a moderate height. She was happy for him, but before she could say anything more, she doubled over in pain, panting at the sensation of the blooming ache attacking her abdomen. Looking down, a wetness pooled upon the sand.

Panicked, Hvitserk latches on to her smaller frame as she almost collapses from the pain. He barked out orders to the nearby guards that patrolled the town.

"Summon the midwife! And alert the King his child is to be born!"

Artemis was laid upon the bed, now stripped of it’s furs, sweat clinging to her skin. She gripped the sheets tightly, groaning and whimpering at the labor pains that attacked her body. She was terrified despite the midwife's babbling words of reassurance.

Women came in to swarm her chambers, the midwife, Alva, Brenna the healer, and Aria along with Geirdis scurrying about to prepare the room for the birth. Artemis watches her, chest rapidly rising and falling before another great pain takes over. This was the moment she had been fearing for what felt like ages. There was no avoiding it now.

Aria takes a seat beside her, wiping her glistening face with a damp cloth. 

"I have seen the birth of babies many times before, and I assure you, this will go smoothly." The red head mutters to her, though that did nothing to ease her mind. Artemis was in a panic, more so than Hvitserk had been on the beach. Her legs trembled before her and it was obvious in her silence that she needed comfort. Geirdis goes to sit on her other side, grabbing her clammy hand..

Barking could be heard from the hall, along with Asa's whining to enter the chamber, making Artemis grow uneasy. The midwife and healer continue moving about the room, preparing herbs and other necessities, though Artemis hardly paid them mind. The only thing she could focus on was the pain that paralyzed her every few minutes.

"Where is Ivar?!"Artemis roars, her grip on Geirdis's hand now fierce, causing the girl to wince. Before anyone could answer her, Ivar comes stumbling in, eyes wild as he barked out something about providing her with every comfort needed.

All the women greeted their king formally, but he ignored them, limping over to his wife panting on their bed. She had equally wild eyes, and Ivar could see the fear swimming within her dark chestnut eyes. He motions for Geirdis to remove herself, and he takes her place sitting beside his wife, already reaching forward to grasp her shaking hand.

"I am here, baby bird." He mutters as he places kisses on her hand, rubbing his calloused thumb over her clammy skin. Artemis was unlike anything he'd ever seen, and rightfully so. He feared for her life as much as she did, though he did a better job of masking it.

"I'm afraid, Ivar." She whispers out a shaky breath before squeezing his hand tightly at another burst of pain, "Your child will rip right through me." 

"Do not be afraid. Frigg is with you in these moments." Once Artemis began to get hysterical, Ivar roared to the midwife and healer that they were to guard her life, or else they must forfeit their own. He'd see to it. Usually she scolded him when he roused people into fear with threats, but at that moment, she didn't care. She would let him threaten the world if it meant the pain would stop.

She was quickly given an herbal tea to calm her nerves, and it was enough for her to calmly listen to Ivar who wished to distract her from her labor pains until their child was truly ready to enter Midgard.

"Tell me about your brother." He says to her suddenly, his sad eyes watching her moan in discomfort after another crippling pain wreaked through her. She turns to look at him, confusion written all over her face.

"What?" She pants out.

"Your brother, you've never told me about him." His plan seemed to work if only a bit, and he watched her think as she always did, searching her mind for distant memories, “What was his name?’

"...Apollo." She says the name quietly, her breathing finally settling with the help of the tea.

"Apollo?"

"God of the sun, twin brother to Artemis." Ivar smiles at the knowledge. How fitting.

"He was named for the sun and you for the moon." Artemis nods. 

"What did he look like?" Ivar continues in his distactions, wincing at her tightening grip as she fights against the pain. His wife was undeniably strong.

"H-he had dark curly hair, but not so dark as mine is. A bit like yours really," She breathes in slowly, releasing the breath along with her tight grip. "But our eyes were the same." Ivar hums, happy he was successful in straying her mind.

"What was he like?"

"He was...like a ray of sun. Always happy, always bright. Even in death's grip, he smiled." She was exhausted, that much was clear when she tossed her head back and closed her eyes. 

"Was he a good blacksmith?" Artemis suddenly shoots up from her position, lurching forward as she groans through a particularly nasty contraction. She grips both Ivar's and Aria's hands fiercely, tears starting to leak from her eyes. 

The midwife immediately pushes her thin sleeping shift up to her knees, checking for any changes."The child is not yet ready to come out." 

Artemis wanted to scream, but she opted for light sobbing instead, her body already exhausted but nowhere near the exhaustion that was to come. Ivar reacted quickly, cradling her head against his chest as he began to hum that lullaby he was so fond of. He stops when her cries turn into sniffles before continuing.

"Was he a good blacksmith, my love?" He tries again, smoothing her damp hair back. She sniffles, rubbing her cheek over his soft tunic before finding the strength to speak.

"He was incredible." She pants against him, "He was my father's prodigy." 

"What happened to him?" 

"He caught ill. They said it was from plague, but I never understood how. My father and I did not catch." Ivar listens, continuing to run his hand down the length of her messily braided hair.

"Was he young?"

"He was my age now when he passed. I was only 10 summers."

"And that's when you began the family trade." Artemis nods, eyes still closed, taking great comfort in his gentle touches. Alva and Breena watched their King and Queen in shock. Never had they seen their King display such affection before. This, of course, was normal for Gierdis and Aria, who watched their relationship blossom.

"Whatever skills Apollo learned, I learned as well." She shakes her head, smiling weakly, "If he only knew his sister took up a man's trade. He'd laugh." Ivar chuckles at this. He was always impressed with his wife's skill. She excelled at it far better than he ever did.

"I think he'd be proud." He answers with a smile.

...

After a long and strenuous labor, their daughter was born in the early morning, just as the sun began to rise. In 9 days time, the infant would be officially named and recognized by her father as his heir. 

She was a tiny thing, and thankfully healthy, with the smallest tuff of brown spiraling hair that was her father’s and chestnut eyes belonging to her mother. She was calm now, cleaned up by both Alva and Brenna, and placed lovingly in her exhausted mother's arms. Aria and Geirdis coo at the child, getting one last glance at the baby girl before the women left the King and Queen on their own with their daughter.

Ivar had stars in his eyes. He stares at his wife and child with such fascination and love, still unable to believe that he was able to have a child. And what a beauty she was.

Artemis held the swaddled child close to her bosom as she was taught by the midwife, using her finger to lightly trace over her daughter's small features.

"Is she healthy?" Ivar's voice wavers, "Are her legs-" 

"She's fine," She interrupts him, feeling the little kicks through the blanket, "And she's beautiful," A tired smile stretches over her face, "How you fought to come into this world little one." She kisses her daughter gently on the cheek before glancing at her husband. He seemed frozen in place.

"Come," Artemis says to him, "Hold your daughter." Placing the whimpering baby into his arms, she watches Ivar interact with his daughter. He hesitated, afraid of holding her for fear of crushing her little body. She was such a small thing in his large arms.

Ivar couldn't find the words to express all the emotions bursting within him. With glossy eyes he watches the tiny thing take even breaths, her little eyes fluttering with sleep. Snuggling against her father's chest, she sleeps comfortably in his arms.

"She has so much of you." His voice cracks and he swallows thickly, moving to gently place a kiss on his sleeping child's brow.

"And so much of her father." Artemis replies sleepily, happily burrowing into the warmth of the furs that were placed back on the bed. 

"I know what I wish her name to be," Ivar says suddenly, his gaze so intense despite the glossiness of his eyes, "With your approval, of course."

"Already?" She yawns, "What about the naming ceremony?" 

"Sól." She furrows her brows.

"Hmm?"

"Her name. It should be Sól."

"Sun?"

"Yes. She has risen with the sun,” Ivar says, “It will honor our goddess and your fallen brother. She will be the light of our lives, our sun." He finishes confidently, smiling down at his little girl. As he looks at her miniature features, a large wave of emotion hits him again. In that moment he vows to protect her from the cruelty of their world.

Artemis remains quiet, watching Ivar stare lovingly at their baby. She smiles, her heart beating for the fierce love of her husband and daughter.

"Sól," She repeats the name, "It is perfect."

...

@heavenly1927 @didiintheblog @leilabeaux @jzr201 @inforapound @a-mess-of-fandoms @rastakami23 @ostra814 @zumzum96

#vikings #ivar imagine #ivar #ivarfanfiction #vikings ivar #ivarxofc #alex hogh andersen #ivar the boneless

[idlnmclean]

In which someone doesn’t actually read what was written.

Me: “This nowadays tendency of putting on the author the responsibility of teaching their readers morality.”

Bullshit. Ever hear about the Hays Code or the Comic Code? Before the advent of the commonly published graphic comics and the movie there were all manners of normative structures mandating that the primary function of publication was teaching people about what is right and what is wrong.

This goes back a long time in all classical cultures. It isn’t “nowadays” as if there were a mythical golden era of before.

Authors are allowed to write whatever the fuck. But whatever you write has consequences. Maybe you write something interesting with a lot of care that has great social value and happens to be about child abusing serial murders. Chances are that if your primary product is indistinguishable from political propaganda for Nazis and child abusers that you are indistinguishable from a Nazi and child abuser apologist.

Being the author for a thing does not make you immune to criticism for your authorial choices and does not bar people from opposing the publication of your work particularly in an environment where such work constitutes a kind of political propaganda to normalize violence and oppression.

Whatever you create is never truly independent of you. Narrator is not strictly identical to the author, but they may be similar enough that for general arguments the difference can be neglected without loss of precision.

You get free speech. That does not mean freedom from social consequence. In situations of injustice such as colonial, imperial, patriarchal, or capitalist politics choosing a neutral point of view as a creator is siding with the abuser. If you as an author choose to not teach ethics or morality or consider such things real world implications then you have made a choice which is reflected in your artifacts.

Language matters. Representation matters. Political apathy is not commendable.

Them: I literally stopped after you cited the Hays Code and Comics Code as “mandating that the primary function of publication is teaching people what is right and what is wrong.” Because if that’s the case, you must think that gay people, interracial marriages, adults drinking alcohol, and married couples sleeping in the same bed are wrong. Let’s be real clear here: the Hays Code was both ridiculous and unconstitutional and the Comics Code was a parody of itself, and both of them made queers invisible unless they were suffering for their queerness. It was literally a rule, because homosexuality was “perverse”. Under the Hays Code:

`Crime (again, including BEING OPENLY GAY) must have consequences shown on-screen. You couldn’t be gay without punishment for your gay. The “correct standards of life” must be upheld. Guess what? NO OVERT GAY, because that wasn’t correct. No interracial marriages. Both of those items were directly and explicitly banned as “perverse.” Anything that didn’t fit the sanitized version of life could not be shown. Also, directors shied away from depiction of poverty, or anything that the ruling class didn’t think was ‘correct standards of life,’ because showing people living in poverty could be construed as not showing people ‘living to proper standards.’ No nudity or sexual activity even between consenting adults. The Hays Code is why married adults on sitcoms had separate twin beds. This also included pregnancy and childbirth, as those were the ‘results’ of sex. To prevent love scenes from being considered sexual, a woman had to be shown with one foot on the floor. Adults could not drink alcohol unless it directly was related to plot. Religion could never be ‘depicted in a mocking manner,’ which led to some editorial changes. For example, 1940′s Pride and Prejudice? Mr. Collins was a librarian. 1948′s Three Musketeers had Prime Minister Richeleu. To avoid being accused of ‘mocking’ religion, studios removed religion altogether. And, of course, the sanctity of marriage had to be upheld. You know. Marriage between one cisgender heterosexual man and one cisgender heterosexual woman. That marriage. `

The CCA was so ridiculous that it wouldn’t approve a comic written by Stan Lee called ‘Green Goblin Reborn’ which was explicitly recommended by the US Dept of Health, Education and Welfare, because it depicted a character’s drug use in an extremely negative light and had an extremely anti-drug message. The CCA wouldn’t approve the comic because it showed drug use at all. Comics couldn’t even have positive messages or show characters overcoming or recovering from negative paths they were on because those negative paths couldn’t be shown in the first place. And of course they had all the same issues as above. It’s also worth noting that the United States Supreme Court began neutering the Hays code 14 years after its inception, and in 1965 it ruled that the Hays Code could only approve a film, it could not ban one, because that was an infringement on the First Amendment. This is how we got – wait for it, wait for it! – a ratings system instead of content bans! Jack Valenti was elected to the head of the MPAA in 1966 with the specific promise to move from bans and codes to ratings. So, if your point was ‘this already existed and it was good!’ actually, uh, those things already existed, and they failed, and it bears repeating that attempts to bar films from being shown without Hays Code approval were explicitly declared unconstitutional, and were replaced by ratings systems and content warnings. I don’t give one good goddamn about shipping wars on Tumblr, but for fuck’s sake, at least take three hot seconds to Google the history you’re citing and see if what you’re holding up as some standard that supposedly “established blah blah movies should only teach us morality” did something other than

`fail miserably lead to a bunch of ridiculous workarounds and euphemisms and Melanie in Gone With The Wind giving birth like she’s some shadow creature about to stab Renly Baratheon disproportionately affect LGBTQ/queer people, POC, and other marginalizations get declared unconstitutional (because, as it turns out, making a big board of people who decide what can get published does in fact violate the First Amendment) make such a parody of itself that comics companies stopped giving a fuck and released comics without the Comics Code approval. Like, seriously, this isn’t difficult history. You could Google it. Literally the only film critic these days who actually supports the Hays Code is Michael fucking Medved. You know, the guy who says that all non-Orthodox Jews vote primarily based on their hatred of Christianity? The one who’s super great buds with Daniel Lapin? The one who wrote “Six Inconvenient Truths About The US and Slavery”? That’s the only film critic still around who thinks that the Hays Code was ever a good idea. That’s who you’re aligning yourself with by pointing to the Hays Code and going “see? The Hays Code! ‘mandating that the primary function of publication is teaching people what is right and what is wrong.’” That is literally the only film critic I could find who agrees with you. Someone who thinks that the United States didn’t prosper because of slavery and that the concept that slavery is what built the US a lie, who champions himself as a former delusional leftist turned ‘conservative champion.’ That’s your buddy. That’s your pal in morality, methods, and rightness. Jesus fuck, read a little history. I’m so exhausted.

The person that is responding to commentary fixates on arguing something that to me is unnecessary. We are in gross agreement on the nature and history of the Hays and Comic codes. They didn’t read my commentary and did not actually comprehend the nuance of what I wrote.

To make it explicit: the Hays Code and the Comic Code were bad, and there was a political uprising that took up most of the 20th century to peel them back.

‘this already existed and it was good!’ is the exact wrong interpretation of what I wrote.

A bunch of authors got together and deliberately wrote in political stances and created representation in defiance of the Hays Code and the Comic Code. They wrote both fiction and non-fiction lobbying against those codes.

Much of the explanation above is useful for those who are not familiar with those codes and their histories, but they are irrelevant to the point I was making which was that things like them are not new.

Authoritarians do and absolutely will take unambiguous political stances with respect to media that they either outright create or which they malappropriate and decontextualize.

To be explicit about the relevance of the Hays code and the Comic Code to the specific things being argued here: authors political opposed those codes with their work and in doing so argued effectively about morality and ethics.

Stan Lee and Jack Kirby’s great contributions to the world of comics was in teaching readers around the world what was right and what was wrong.

A bunch of the examples in the OP, like Lolita to cite one, are written by authors who arguably had good intentions in their writing but none the less contributed works that have lasting and damaging legacies.

What we write has consequences. Some consequences are good and desirable. Some consequences are bad or undesirable. Write in opposition to laissez-faire authorship in times of rising fascism, and you may find yourself blocked by people who might otherwise be well meaning.

Sometimes writing a dystopian depiction of society in sufficient detail is irresponsible especially when the author try to “let the work speak for itself” rather than outright condemn the people and circumstances that create the dystopia. The representation may be used as a blueprint for implementing that dystopian society, and it can be demonstrated for a wide variety of cases that is exactly what has happened.

Much of the advice of the thread is perfectly fine with good faith politics and good faith authorship among trustworthy and responsible communities of readers and activists. However, my view comes specifically from watching the underworlds of authorship where bad faith abounds.

An awful lot of things which are written as fiction are no such thing. They are either retellings of real world abuses in coded terminology shared among abuse cultures or they are de facto manifestos of political ideologies for covert organization by abuse cultures.

There is a reason why rape, incest, and abuse narratives are so prevalent in erotic and pornographic media development communities particularly those adjacent to the neo-technocrats.

it is important that authors never lose sight of the world and history from which they emerge and within which they exist. It is important that we teach each other about this world and about these histories.

#abuse