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heavyy12 · 3 years

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Colin and Tripp: Part 1

When Colin was in high school and vacationing at his parents’ summer home in the Hamptons, he ran into his parents’ best friend’s son, Tripp Larson. Tripp was over a decade older than Colin and someone he always admired. At fifteen, Tripp lost both parents in a plane crash. As the only child with little family left, the Laceys made sure he completed prep school without issue and attend Cornell like his late father.

Tripp came out as gay to the Laceys his freshman year at Cornell. Colin was just five at the time and his parents were dealing with their oldest daughter’s teen pregnancy. Although accepting of Tripp’s admission, the Laceys weren’t present as much as Tripp hoped during that difficult time.

During the summer going into Colin’s junior year of high school was one he’d always remember. At sixteen, his parents had just bought him a new Mercedes and allowed him to spend the summer at their house in the Hamptons, permitting he maintained a summer job. It was at the local country club where Colin was working as a caddy that he ran into Tripp Larson.

Tripp didn’t recognize the teen immediately because it had been four or five years since they last saw one another. The thirty-year-old Manhattan executive to his late father’s textile company was playing a round with friends from Cornell. Colin was immediately attracted to him. He was tall and had a thick, rugby look to him under his pale blue polo that hugged his pecs and biceps.

Colin had grown a lot in those past few years and stood about an inch shorter than Tripp at 6’2. He was playing lacrosse and rugby at the same prep school Tripp attended years ago and also had come to terms with being gay.

After bumping into each other at the clubhouse, Tripp asked Colin to join him on the deck after his game. The two caught up on just about everything. Toward the end of their conversation, Colin confided in Tripp that he was also gay and planning to tell his parents by the time he finished high school. Tripp was more than supportive and gave Colin his number in case he ever needed anyone to talk to.

Throughout the same summer, Colin had been fooling around with another caddy from the club. By August, the two were fucking each other in his parents’ Hamptons home almost daily… and everywhere else they could manage. The other caddy, Zane, was another prep school kid from Manhattan and the same age as Colin. The two parted ways at the end of August and kept in touch for a couple weeks after.

By Halloween, Colin was preparing for holidays across the world with his family and applying to colleges. After a couple weeks of the stomach flu, Colin was concerned he could be pregnant. A test soon confirmed his concerns.

All four of Colin’s siblings were eight years or older than him and he wasn’t particularly close to any because of the age gap. He didn’t want to tell his parents, so he remembered having Tripp’s number from the summer. He reached out to Tripp, who suggested Colin take the train into Manhattan the following week, Colin’s seventeenth birthday, and he’d help him with an abortion.

Colin took the train the following weekend and met Tripp at his apartment in Chelsea. It was a palatial penthouse with four bedrooms and six bathrooms. Tripp greeted him and let him get settled in one of his guest bedrooms before ordering take out.

Tripp mentioned he made reservations Sunday for a special birthday brunch for Colin before his scheduled procedure the following day. The newly seventeen year old was beyond excited for his first drag brunch experience. On Saturday, Colin had the run of Tripp’s apartment while the older family friend dealt with a work issue.

After drag brunch on Sunday, Tripp took Colin to Central Park for a walk and ice cream. It was on their walk that Colin confided in Tripp that he was really excited to get pregnant someday when he was ready. Tripp made a mental note of the conversation after realizing Colin mentioned “getting pregnant” instead of “having kids”.

On Tuesday morning, Tripp accompanied Colin to the train station after his abortion the previous morning. The two hugged and Colin thanked him for everything before heading back to Connecticut. Tripp checked in with Colin daily for quite some time after and the teenager very much appreciated the support.

Colin was accepted to Cornell and started the following year. He decided to play lacrosse, like Tripp, and had an amazing freshman year. He came out to his parents the summer before he started and was accepted by his teammates and friends.

During his second year, Cornell was hosting alumni for their final game against Columbia. Tripp messaged Colin on Instagram to inform him he’d be at the game and wanted to see him during his visit. The two old family friends met up before the match and Tripp wished the young twenty-year-old good luck. He also couldn’t get over how mature Colin looked.

At twenty, Colin could easily pass as twenty-five. He stood 6’2 and weighed about 215 with muscular, hairy legs, tanned olive skin, and beautiful blue eyes. He had really grown up since the last time they saw each other on his seventeenth birthday.

Cornell ended up winning the game 5-4. Tripp and some of his buddies met the team and coaches in the locker room to congratulate them. Tripp made a point to find Colin in the process.

“Congrats, big guy!” Tripp said as he approached Colin while he changed.

“Thanks, man!” Colin said, going in for a hug with Tripp.

“Do you have some time to show me around the campus? Things sure have changed since I was here.” Tripp asked.

“Yeah, I don’t have anything planned until later-- let’s go!” Colin said excitedly.

The college student left his keys and other belongings in his locker and the pair headed on their tour. The truth was, Tripp was a major donor of Cornell and he had been there within the last three years. He wanted to spend some quality time with Colin and catch up.

Flirting was exchanged almost immediately into their walking tour of campus. Both men caught each other looking at one another numerous times throughout their campus excursion. At the library, Tripp mentioned his first sexual encounter with another boy being in the old stacks during his freshman semester exams.

“Damn, I wouldn’t mind trying that someday!” Colin joked.

As their two-hour tour ended and they approached Colin’s locker, Tripp suggested they meet up later for drinks.

“I’d really like that” Colin replied as be shut his locker after grabbing his things.

The two locked eyes in that moment and the younger man dropped his belongings and pushed the alumnus into the locker behind him and started making out.

“Have you ever done it in a locker room?” Colin asked, referencing Tripp’s comment about his library hook up during his heyday.

“I haven’t, but I’m willing to try.” Tripp grinned.

Colin lowered himself to his knees and swiftly undid Tripp’s belt and pulled down the older man’s chinos. He began blowing him for several minutes before Tripp pulled him upwards for a kiss and suggested he return the favor.

After a couple minutes, Colin pulled Tripp up for a kiss and then discreetly turned himself around, exposing his bare ass, and planted his forearms on the lockers. Without words being exchanged, Tripp used his own spit to lube his cock and gently inserted it into Colin’s willing hole.

Tripp picked up speed and the clapping of Colin’s ass cheeks intensified, as did the twenty-year-old’s groans. Nearing climax, Tripp pulled Colin back by his neck and made out with him ferociously while he deposited a big, warm load deep into the lacrosse player’s hole. After he pulled out and kissed Colin all over his back and neck, Tripp turned Colin around so he could finish him off by accepting the younger guy’s load in his mouth.

Neither man had an experience like that in their life. Although a nearly fifteen-year age gap, there was sexual chemistry like no other. Colin had another month of school and a European trip planned with friends, so the pair decided to reconvene in August at Tripp’s family’s home in the Hamptons before Colin began his junior year at Cornell.

When Colin returned from six weeks in Europe, he texted Tripp, “Hey man, when do you think we can meet up? Sooner rather than later, I hope ;)”

Colin drove to the Hamptons in the Mercedes his parents had bought him years earlier for his sixteenth birthday. When he arrived at Tripp’s, the newly thirty-five year old was tanning by the pool. Colin snuck up on Tripp as he lay on his back on an outdoor lounger.

“Getting your tan on?” Colin asked as he straddled Tripp over the lounger.

“I thought you might appreciate that.” He responded.

“I sure do!” Colin exclaimed taking off his shirt as he rubbed his ass against Tripp’s growing erection.

Colin pulled lube from the backpack he carried outside with him and within minutes of reuniting, Tripp was inside Colin. They fucked near the pool, on the lounger, against the bar, and on the pool steps for nearly an hour before retreating to the bathroom to freshen up.

“It looks like you ate well in Europe” Tripp joked as he poked Colin’s noticeably larger belly.

“Yeah, I’m not sure how I managed it, honestly!” Colin fidgeted as he embarrassingly grabbed a shirt. “There was so much walking and hiking over there!”

“I was just kidding, Colin.” Tripp replied, stopping the younger man from putting on his shirt. “I think it looks cute!”

The two spent almost an entire month together before Colin was expected to return to Cornell. During that time, Colin’s belly only grew larger.

In bed one morning as the pair cuddled, Colin suggested he might need a pregnancy test. The two discussed how he wasn’t having any of the symptoms he experienced when he was in high school and that the last person he hooked up with was Tripp. On their last day together, they drove to a drug store and got two tests.

“Well, babe, you were right.” Tripp said walking into the master suite with two positive pregnancy tests.

“I can’t believe it. I’m not even twenty-one and I’ve managed to get pregnant twice!” Colin exclaimed as he sat in disbelief at the foot of the bed.

“You must be one fertile lad.” Tripp joked.

They immediately started discussing their options. With the timing of their last hook up at the end of May, Colin was easily twelve weeks along. He had already gained nearly fifteen pounds. Tripp suggested he bring an OB/GYN to the house the following morning and Colin pushed back his return to Cornell by a couple days until they figured everything out.

“So I have some exciting news for you boys.” The OB/GYN said during Colin’s ultrasound atop Tripp’s bed. “You’re having twins.”

Colin and Tripp looked at each other in disbelief.

“I’d say you’re about thirteen weeks along, so that puts your due date around, uhh, February 20[sup]th[/sup].”

“Wow, well thank you, Dr. Houston.” Tripp said as the woman in her forties began packing up.

Colin and Tripp saw her out and the pair retreated to the back yard. It was a hot August afternoon and normally they’d be in the pool.

“So, what do you want to do?” Colin asked Tripp over some lemonade on the patio furniture.

“That’s up to you, babe.” Tripp replied. “You need to get back to school. You need to finish school.”

“I know, I know.” Colin said, “Honestly, this all feels right, though. Does it feel that way for you?” he asked Tripp.

“Very much so, Colin. We’ve only spent a month together but I can already see ourselves growing old together.”

Tripp stood up and pulled Colin up from his seat. The two embraced for quite some time and kissed before Tripp lifted up Colin’s shirt and gave his belly a rub.

“You’re going to make a fantastic parent.” Tripp suggested as he kissed Colin’s tanned and protruding belly.

“You will too, Tripp.”

As the pair continued to embrace, Tripp moved his hands into Colin’s pants and grabbed a cheek in each hand.

“I like the idea of you carrying my children. You’re going to look so beautiful growing our babies inside that fertile womb of yours.”

“I’m glad you’re excited, babe, because I’m kind of excited to see what’s in store for us.”

Colin packed up and left for Cornell the following morning. Tripp had a realtor looking for properties in Ithaca the same day. Within a week, Tripp purchased a townhouse near campus so he could split his time between Manhattan and visiting Colin.

Colin moved his things into the townhouse shortly after and began telling friends of his twin pregnancy. Colin turned twenty-one in early November and planned on returning to Connecticut for Thanksgiving with Tripp to break the news to his family.

The pair regretted not telling Colin’s family sooner, but they were still worried about their reaction with Tripp being the father and them being in a relationship. Their age gap was nearly fifteen years, after all.

As Colin packed for Connecticut, Tripp was organizing an elaborate dinner to soften the blow to his young, pregnant lover’s family. He planned on having a catered dinner at his family’s home near the Laceys the day before Thanksgiving. Colin called and broke the news to both his older sisters. Beth and Liza both knew Tripp very well and were beyond surprised of their situation; however they seemed supportive.

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chocolate-parfait · 3 years

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Yay, askbox is open! I hope that means requests too, if not please ignore this and sorry. But could I request another angst? Could I please ask for headcannons for Dazai (and the others could be either Theo, Vincent, Leo, Comte, Will or Arthot, you can choose two, 'cause I can't XD) who find their S/Os suicide note? You can take it wherever you want from there. Thank you so much, love your works <3 Have a grwat day!

Hi @robin-the-enby !! I'm happy to see you in my inbox again, and although this took me embarrassingly long (my procrastination tendencies and school got the better of me :,)), I'm more than happy to provide something that will help with your coping! Despite it all, I hope that you'll get better soon and hang on a while longer. I'm sure this prolonged pandemic has had negative effects on most people's mental health, but remember that we'll get through this in one way or the other! Stay strong and keep fighting, if it gets too much don't hesitate to take a break and go easy on yourself❤

Halfway through I realized I was writing scenarios instead of simple headcanons ,, I was too engrossed in writing to realize it oops 🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️

Finding MC'S suicide note - Ikevamp headcanons (Dazai, Arthur & Leonardo)

(TW; suicide / mentions of self-harm / major character death / blood)

(CW; slight and inaccurate spoilers for Dazai's past)

For those who'd like to avoid specific contents, this is what I wrote for each suitor:

Dazai - MC is unconscious and bleeding, I didn't specify whether they survive or not

Arthur - MC is stopped before they can do anything, survives

Leonardo - MC isn't stopped in time, dies

Dazai

It was as if history was repeating itself. The message, the bloodied sheets and the unconscious body. The only different thing was perhaps.... him. It was a him that had experienced true happiness, a him that had learned forgiveness, a him that knew better than retort to suicide as a way of repentance. And yet... was it not enough? Dazai's mind swirled with the pungent thoughts of his own fate as he ran with your body in his arms. He ran, and ran, and ran, passing by a seemingly endless succession of hallways and wooden doors.

Never before did he wish your room was closer to Arthur's, as he felt your body grow colder and his clothes dampen with blood with each step forward. And yet the stars that were now adorning the night sky's black cape, seemed to be offering their compassion to him, for when Dazai burst into the writer's room he saw him sitting at his desk, completely sober and still functioning in the middle of the night.

Arthur slightly turned in his chair, and as he was about to comment with displeasure how rude it was of the man to come into his room completely unannounced, his mouth was left agape and eyes wide open, wordlessly staring at your limp and seemingly unmoving body as the smell of blood hit his nostrils in mere seconds.

"What in the Heavens happened-?!" Arthur abruptly stood up, leaving his half-finished manuscript forgotten on the table, rushing closer to check your pulse. The two novelists had never liked each other, a difference in life choices maybe, but it surely was not a hate that could surpass even the most perilous of situations, particularly because you were an outsider to their rivalry. As such, Arthur did not hesitate to put to good use all his medical knowledge, carefully rushing through every step to avoid the worst.

Seconds slowly transformed into hours, although Dazai was convinced time had stopped ever since the moment he had found you on your bed, utterly frozen in a state of unconsciousness with a crumpled letter of apologies laying on the bloodied sheets. The only thing that perhaps gave him the slightest hint to time’s passing was the way he could feel the blood on his chest and hands grow drier as the night morphed into the day.

As the first rays of light poked from behind the thick curtain of the doctor’s room, Dazai sat by his bed, right next to you, silent and outwardly calm, although dazed in the raging storm inside his heart.

Perhaps this was what Destiny itself had decided for him. Perhaps it was wrong of him to blame casualty instead of himself. His old, stupid self, who hadn’t learnt a single thing from past mistakes. But as his fellow vampire’s warm hand came to rest on his shoulder, Dazai decided to delay all judgment about his negligence until the Gods determined your fate.

Arthur

Staring at the familiar handwriting, Arthur felt his whole body grow numb, as if someone had thrown him in the darkest depths of the ocean, leaving him to suffocate under the overwhelming weight of the waters above.

He had noticed the worsening of your symptoms, but he had never imagined you'd go to these lengths. He had gravely underestimated your condition, and he could already hear the old ghosts of his past laughing at him, pointing their fingers while mocking him. But now, he had no time to worry about his own lack of foresight; his priority was getting to you in time, so that all could be fixed, hopefully.

Scanning the writing on your tear-stained note, his brain started listing all the possible places where you could've gone with a speed that would leave speechless even Sherlock Holmes himself. The writing was hurried and scrambled, meaning that it was a sudden decision. The city was too far away and bustling with people that could interfere, so it was an unlikely location. As he was running around the mansion in search of you, he passed in front of the terrace on the last floor; there, he saw your clothes swirling in the wind, and your figure standing on the stone railing.

He almost crashed against the glass door as he launched himself forward with extreme speed. You were there, looking down and slightly trembling. You were scared, as it was normal, but if death frightened you so, then what pain would be so strong to push you in its embrace? To drive you away from his warm arms and into the eternal darkness? Was such a painful experience worth the possible relief?

"MC!!!" Arthur shouted out of instinct with his whole lungs, like a volcano erupting in all its fury. A few steps later and you were falling backwards, your back colliding with his chest as he harshly pulled you to him. It all happened so fast that you didn't even have the time to turn your head and look at him. Now that you were on the ground, safely locked in his embrace, everything slowly sank in.

His voice came out choked and trembling. "W-what were you thinking-?!" He was trying so hard to hold everything back; the tears, the sobs, the anger in his voice. He was angry at himself, and you were not the target of his resentment, but he realized that it could be easily misunderstood by someone in your situation. Taking a deep breath and turning you around, he stared deeply into your pained eyes, softening his iron-like grip on your forearms.

His voice now steadier yet gentle with affection and worry added:"Love, I'm sorry for not noticing all of this sooner. I'm sorry for not helping you enough. Still, I want to be of some use to you, I want to be there for you.” A sharp breath interrupted his speech, maybe from him, you or perhaps both of you. “…So please, please rely on me; whenever you feel like you can't do it anymore, whenever you feel like you have enough of life, give me the chance to help you."

Seconds later, you burst into tears, sobbing confused "I'm sorry"s in the crook of his neck. Arthur slowly caressed your hair soothingly, as his heart continued to painfully hammer against his chest. He knew this was not going to be an easy nor a short journey; it was going to take time, and it would be hard, but he wouldn't give up on you no matter what. Through thick and thin, the way you did for him, he was going to support you the whole way.

"I love you more than anything in the world, MC." he added at last, hugging you tightly.

Leonardo

The deafening sound of crickets did not reach the man’s ears. He couldn’t hear anything but the fast pumping of his own blood in his veins. A heartbeat that had never and would never stop; stronger than anyone else’s, but also alone. The sound of his heart was utterly lonely, the only one under the white gazebo, now shrouded in the darkness of the night.

How much he would give not to hear it anymore, to put an end to it right then and there. But he couldn’t. And as Fate loved torturing him endlessly, he was now once more deprived of a person he loved. But this time was different than the countless others before. He thought he had gotten used to the company offered by Death herself, and it had been long ever since tears burned within his eyes, as if made of fire.

Between his arms laid a lifeless body, utterly still and deprived of any warmth. It seemed like mere moments had passed when Leonardo was contentedly caressing your hair as a tired yet relaxed sigh fell from a pair crimson lips, which whispered some loving words before blooming into a smile. Now, they were pale and slightly agape, a cold frown sculpted onto the body’s face. Perhaps he had gotten so used to the passage of time that he did not pay it more mind. Perhaps all his memories took place too long ago, and perhaps things had changed considerably from those happy moments you shared.

Leonardo’s expression subconsciously mimicked your own, one that would remain in his mind for who knows how long, and he did not dare to move away, sitting there with you for the very last moments of his eternally long life. He tried not to think about the way his heart lurched in his chest like a ship at sea during a storm when he found your note. Your handwriting, calm and precise as if it was a decision you had made long ago; where was his mind wandering off to while you were deciding to seal your own fate?

Silently strangling all those whirling thoughts in his head until they died down, leaving him in a deathly silence, he lovingly bid you farewell with a final kiss to your lips.

“Hopefully, we’ll meet in another life.”

“Next time, I won’t let this happen again”

Suffering was human, but he had learnt all too well how contagious pain could be. And yet, he now found himself isolated in his grievance, for you weren’t with him anymore.

#my writing #answered #ikemen vampire #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp imagines #leonardo da vinci #arthur conan doyle #osamu dazai

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mimzy-writing-online · 4 years

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Hi! I just wanted to say thank you for writing the 'How to Write a Blind or Visually Impared Person'. I myself am not Blind or Visually Impared and i am in the process of writing the basis for such a character and your guide really helps. (And will help as well as be shared to those I know whom also need to see this.) I do have one question though: What about writing people blind from birth?

So, with writing characters who are blind from birth, it’s important to remember that there are both real people who have been completely blind from birth and people who have been legally blind or VI from birth. So, with blindness from birth, it doesn’t necessarily have to be no sight at all. It’s also important to note how small a minority that is in the blind community.

Statistics

2.4% of Americans are living with visual disabilities. (Total (all ages): 7,675,600)

0.8% of school age Americans (ages 4-20) are living with a visual disability. ( Total: 706,400). This accounts for 9.2% of the entire blind community in the country.

90% of the entire blind community world wide has some remaining vision. People who are completely blind are a small minority.

Source: National Federation of the Blind

Molly Burke and her boyfriend Adrian (this post was written in 10/20/2020) are both people who have been legally blind from birth or a very young age (I can’t remember exactly when Adrian said he went blind, but it’s been his entire memorable life, though he still has remaining vision).

Most children are not diagnosed right away at birth. It heavily depends on the eye condition in question. Unless you had an easily observable symptom, such as nystagmus or pupils which don’t react to light or lazy eye, doctors and parents are unlikely to notice right away.

Most blind children don’t realize they’re blind until they’re a bit older and have developed enough communication skills to recognize that the visual experiences their family describes don’t match their visual experiences. Slowly small moments and situations begin to pop up where you realize there’s something everyone else seems able to do easily that you’re struggling with.

Particularly severe vision issues will be noticed by parents sooner than more subtle ones. The more usable sight a child has and the fewer visually observable symptoms they have, the longer they’re going to fly under the radar until the adults in their life realize something is different. Even then, it might not be until the child is able to communicate an inability to see what they’re describing that parents might realize something is wrong.

More severe vision issues will be picked up sooner. Parents realizing their children doesn’t respond to peek-a-boo or their eyes don’t follow moving items but sound will get their attention.

At this point in life, the economic situation of the child’s family will have a huge impact on how they grow up.

Families living below the poverty line or living in countries (America) where health care is expensive and treated as a privilege rather than a necessity and human right, or simply isn’t available at all, will have a much harder time getting their child diagnosed or treated.

Those families likely won’t have the education or knowledge needed to realize what is wrong and how they can help their child. Like health care, knowledge/education is treated like a privilege instead of a necessity and human right.

The education their children have access to will likely be lacking as well. Poorer communities have less funding for their students than wealthy communities. Those schools will have an even more restricted budget for accessible education, meaning they might not be able to pay the wages of a teacher’s aide to work one-on-one with that child in class, or have access to magnifiers and braille books/typewriters/education. Even though by legal law they must provide accommodations for disabled students, it doesn’t mean they will, and a financially disadvantaged family won’t have the resources to fight the school for their child’s rights (or even be aware of their child’s rights in the first place).

Children from middle class or wealthy families will (like all children in their community) have a huge advantage over their peers who attend schools with fewer resources. However, those blind children still have a disadvantage with their own peers.

Again, a school might refuse accommodations because administration can be jerks like that. It happens all the time. Parents may have to fight for their child’s rights to equal education through an aide, accessible school materials, and blind-friendly education.

Molly Burke made a video recently talking about her experiences with education as a blind child.

Learning Braille is a huge step in helping blind children, but it’s becoming less popular as audiobooks become more available. Audiobooks are amazing, and that method of reading is just as valid as any other, however a child reading solely with audiobooks will lose the literacy benefits. Like any writing system, Braille teaches spelling and grammatical rules necessary for educational and professional writing. While Braille is a writing system unique to itself, it still lives within the confines of whatever the native speaking language of the child is. Braille in English still uses the same spelling and grammatical function English uses. Braille in Spanish still bends to the rules of Spanish.

This is very different from different sign languages which can have grammar and syntax rules that completely differ from the native language of that country. Which is why you have languages called American Sign Language and British Sign Language and Canadian Sign Language that are using in English speaking countries but function very differently from both English and their fellow Sign counterparts. I’ve heard it said that ASL is more similar to the grammar structure of Chinese than it is to English, which gives the Deaf community a literacy disadvantage of their own when their native language and their reading/writing language are completely different languages.

Though there is a secondary system of Braille which uses shortened abbreviations. That is Grade 2 Braille, and it is learned after Grade 1.

This is Molly Burke’s video on Braille, which includes the history of Braille, how she personally learned it in school, and showing what a Braille Typewriter is and how it is used.

I highly recommend it because Braille is something I only know from research and theory, not from personal experience.

Children who don’t learn Braille are statistically less likely to receive higher education and more likely to live below the poverty line.

Though blind adults are at a huge disadvantage in the work force with 80% of blind adults being unemployed but not by choice. Even though they have the same qualifications as other applicants, employers will almost always choose a sighted applicant over them, even if the sighted applicant is less qualified.

As adults, people who were born blind are just as affected by their upbringing, education, and family life as sighted adults are. The first eighteen years of their life shaped who they are as a person, so like any other character, you must consider what your character’s childhood must have been like for them to become the person they are now.

Once they reach adulthood, there isn’t much difference between people who were born blind or became blind early in life, compared to people who went blind as adults. But there are a few:

- Adults who were blind or became blind during their education are more likely to learn Braille than adults who went blind later in life.

-They are more likely to have O&M training. Though, only 10% of the blind community has a cane or guide dog, while the rest rely on remaining vision and sighted guides.

-O&M abilities (beyond mobility guides, there’s also learning how to use your remaining vision, your hearing and touch, and other senses to navigate without a cane/guide dog) are generally much better the longer you’ve been blind.

-Adults who have been living with blindness all their lives are more likely to be comfortable with their disability than newly blind adults, but that is not necessarily a rule. There is more confidence in living x-many years blind and knowing how to live your regular life without new major adjustments.

-The fewer memories a person has of vision, the fewer visual things they are likely to miss. You can’t miss something you’ve never experienced or don’t remember. Doesn’t mean someone won’t wish they knew what stars and fireworks and the ocean looks like, but it won’t be as big a focus as it is for someone who went blind recently.

-People dream with whatever experiences they are living with now, meaning blind people dream with whatever their current vision is. Someone who has never seen or no longer retains any memories of sight will not have dreams with visuals.

(Note, memories of sight are something that fades with time, no matter when you went blind in life. After about 7 years of not seeing a particular image, you’re likely to have forgotten what that thing actually looked like, including color and other general vision things)

That is what I have for you. I’m going to link this to my masterpost so that it’s easily accessible for everyone and if you want to come back to it, you will be able to easily find it.

#writeblr #writing advice #writing community #disability #blindness #blind character #anon #Anonymous

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fanficflaneuse · 4 years

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One Day - Part 9

A/N: Hello, magical tumblr friends! We’ve reached part 9! I can’t believe it. Thanks for sticking with me through this wild ride. Thing are getting really good here. Today I realized I have like 70 of them. Can you believe it? I never expected to have followers lol. Thank you all.

For this chapter, all I want to say is that I don’t hate Astoria. I really don’t. Thank you for your turkish telenovela plot twist ideas lol, I’m definitely going to write something in that fashion sooner or later.

Also, the novel I’m referring to (both in with the quote and the comments) is called “Normal People” by Sally Rooney. If you haven’t read it, I very enthusiastically recommend it. I couldn’t put it down. And now I can’t stop thinking about reader and Draco’s relationship to be a bit like theirs (better written and without a lot of the tragic subtext, of course).

Anyway, let’s do this!

Draco x reader (she/her pronouns) Word count: 1874 Summary: One day AU. Post-war. Since The Battle of Hogwarts, Draco and y/n meet one day a year.

Masterlist

Enjoy!

3 May, 2007

“You really don’t want to sleep, do you?” Draco cooed at his son.

“Da-da,” the eight-month-old baby babbled as he made grabby hands at his father. The blond man melted and took his toddler out of the crib, cradling him in his arms.

“What am I going to do with you, Scorp?” he asked as he nuzzled his nose. The boy giggled in response.

Draco tried to be the most loving father. Whenever he wasn’t at the hospital, he was pampering his son, playing with him and making him feel loved. Draco lived for Scorpius’ cute little chortles and he vowed to do everything in his power to keep his son laughing without a care in the world.

The day Draco held Scorpius for the first time, he was invaded by a bliss he had never experienced before. Draco realized that he had finally done something good. He had helped create a little person, a pure and wonderful little person. He, Draco thought, was his second chance in life. Even if the nightmares and the guilt still haunted him, Scorpius’ tiny self reassured him. And so, the boy became his everything.

This week, though, Draco had to admit he was exhausted. Astoria had moved to the Greengrass estate for a few days to take care of her sick mother.

“Nothing too scandalous,” she had explained when he asked about the symptoms, “but she still needs her daughters’ care”.

If Draco had noticed something suspicious in the defensive tone she adopted, he said nothing of it. Astoria’s family emergency left him alone to take care for their toddler. Since she hated every minute of living under the same roof as Narcissa and Lucius, they had moved to a flat in muggle London. His parents hadn’t yet forgiven him for that. Throughout the week, it was Molly Weasley who had come to his aid. Much to her delight, she took care of Scorpius – as well as her grandchildren – while he worked. As he did his rounds, though, his son was in the back of his mind. Scorpius had never been without at least one of his parents before and Draco hated the idea of him thinking he had been abandoned. He’d floo back and forth from the hospital to the Burrow only to find a very smiling Scorpius crawling around with Albus and Rosie.

Thankful as he was for Molly’s help, the whole ordeal drained him. He was working double shifts and then going to their empty apartment to feed his son and play with him before he could even think about hitting the sack.

Regardless of this, every time Astoria owled him he insisted it was fine. Ever since he found out Astoria was pregnant, Draco made an extra effort with their relationship. Even before Scorpius, they had turned cold and awkward with each other, but Draco loved and cared for Astoria and by Merlin did he try. He was gentle and kind, he took her out for dates, asked with genuine curiosity about her day, bought her gifts and was as accommodating as he could possibly be. She had an agitated social life, with weekend getaways with her friends and constant dinner dates with her sister, but even if at times it meant sacrificing his own social life, he wouldn’t complain. Draco could even say they were happy.

At times like these, however, he couldn’t help the intrusive thought of what all of it would all look like with (Y/N) by his side. He’d supress those ideas immediately, thinking about how Astoria was the best mother Scorpius could ever have. Yet, an overwhelming sense of how incredibly plastic and sterile his relationship with Astoria was would still linger for a while, filling him with dread. He’d then try to push it back and shower their son with as much love as he could possible give him.

Tired as he was, Draco realized it was very late. Scorpius was still giggling in his arms. As he sat in the library, Draco grabbed (Y/N)’s latest book in one hand and held his son cautiously with both arms.

“I’m going to read this novel to you, young man,” he said, “And you’ll understand none of it. But hopefully I can enjoy it for a while and you’ll fall asleep. Deal?”

Scorpius’s glimmering eyes lit the world for Draco. He kissed his son’s forehead before starting to read out loud:

“Sometimes she felt like saying: Would you miss me, if you didn’t have me anymore?” Draco gulped before continuing, “She had asked him that once on the ghost estate, when they were just kids. He had said yes then, but she’d been the only thing in his life at that time, the only thing he had to himself, and it would never be that way again”

As he carried on, he couldn’t help but think that this novel was written just for him to read. It was, after all, about two friends whose relationship status changes throughout the years. He felt his heart heavy, wondering if (Y/N) ever thought about him not caring for her. Because he did. He cared for her very much. And he missed her. She had been living in Paris for the last four months and she’d come every now and then, but he still missed her. At times, he felt like he always missed her, even if they were in the same room.

“I did choose your godmother well, didn’t I Scorp? You’ll be nothing if not a well-educated, perhaps even a bit snobbish, lad,” he teased.

Much to his satisfaction, Draco noticed how his son was now peacefully sleeping in his arms. He walked to the nursery and put him on the crib, leaving the door ajar just in case. As he was about to crawl into bed, Draco heard a crash on the living room. He grabbed his wand and hurried out, determined to protect his son.

“Leave now, please,” he heard a hushed, almost panicky, voice say.

As he reached the living room, Draco faced something he never thought he would. A wide-eyed Astoria stood in the middle of the room. She was giving her back to him and, instead, faced none other than Theo Nott, Draco’s old classmate. He had a determined glint in his eyes.

As Astoria turned around to face him, Draco noticed a sense of complicity between the two of them. He gulped, realizing what was going on. The blond man blinked tears back as he noticed his wife sported a series of love bites he had certainly not printed on her skin. They were both dishevelled, lips a bit swollen. Draco also realized Astoria was wearing a man’s sweater.

“Draco, it’s not what –“

“We’ve been seeing each other for a while, mate. I love Tori. We’re happy together and I am tired of hiding,” Theo’s deep voice interrupted her.

“Draco,” Astoria said, her voice sounded muffled, as though they were underwater, “Draco, listen to me.”

Draco stared at his wife as though she was a total stranger. The shock made him experience everything in slow motion, to the point in which he only realized he was actually crying when Astoria tried to wipe the tears. Draco pushed her away very softly, barely even touching her, and just turned on his heels. He stumbled towards his room, scantily registering what was going on around him.

For a second there he thought he was dreaming. He closed the door and put up a charm. Draco collapsed on the bed and finally heard himself sob. His heart felt genuinely broken. He heard the knocks on the door. Draco picked on Astoria’s conversation with Theo, maybe they were even fighting, he couldn’t tell. He didn’t care either.

As many times before, Draco felt empty, small and pathetic. And, as many times before, his thoughts went to (Y/N), wishing she was there to console him.

…

On the other side of the English Channel, possessed by coffee induced jitters, (Y/N) sat wide awake in her library. It was late and she was very tired, but she couldn’t bring herself to sleep. She decided to read Hermione’s letter, which she had postponed for a couple of days already.

Dearest (Y/N/N),

Four months gone and I still cannot believe you’re living in Paris. What a dream! I am really happy for you, dear. We have all agreed that a change of ambience could benefit you greatly, even if it means we won’t be able to enjoy your presence as much. Don’t make our great sacrifice of depriving us of your company be in vain. Remember you’re in the city of love, so you better not be glooming on your desk all day.

All jokes aside, please take care of yourself, (Y/N/N). I would be lying if I didn’t say I’m worried. Molly is worried. Even Ron – at times so daft and oblivious – is worried. Sleep well. Eat at regular times. Don’t overthink…too much. This whole poète maudit behaviour might be very fancy and bohemian, but it is, without a doubt, unhealthy. And we all want you – no, we need you – healthy and happy.

Lovely, I devoured your latest novel. It is an absolute hit. It feels so…so real, so visceral and heart-breaking. I cried thinking about how much of it is inspired by your real-life experiences. I have never met someone who experiences life the way you do, someone who has this way of conciliating the world through words. My heart goes to you, (Y/N), along with my admiration. I hope distance can mend your heart, so you can finally write some lighter poetry, like you did when we were children.

I am very busy with work, looking forward for a promotion over the next couple of weeks. With Ron we have also been talking about the possibility of having more children. As an only child, I would love my Rosie to grow up with someone by her side, although I must say she’s practically attached at the hip with Albus and Scorpius. However, I still cannot decide, you know? I feel like my ever-growing responsibilities at the ministry might get in the way of me giving my child – and potential other children – the attention they deserve. I do not think I could adapt as easily as Ginny did. She is doing great at her new post, by the way. But I do not see myself anywhere else. I know maternity is far removed from your reality right now, but I would love to know what you think about this. I already know Ginny’s perspective. I also talked about it with Molly and my own mom. I have read a couple of books as well.

Anyway, I will not bother you anymore. Please write back whenever you see fit. Do not isolate, (Y/N). We are all here for you. We miss you. We cannot wait for you to come. As soon as we have vacations, we will visit you as well. I am hoping for the day in which we can finally stroll together through all of those bookshops in Paris – muggle and magic.

Love,

‘Mione.

tags: @fandomscombine @okaydraco @naomi02hook @iliketoast23 @hopplessdreamer @winnsmills @oldfashionedlovergirlsblog @animelover09556 @happycomb @xtrashmouthxtozierx

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flutteringphalanges · 3 years

Photo

Summary: It is public knowledge that Zoe Van Helsing is the last of her blood line. Not to mention that, in a sense, Count Dracula is too. However, after an unexpected night of passion, both their lives dramatically change when Zoe becomes pregnant. Two unconventional parents, one extraordinary pregnancy. What could go wrong?

Rating: M

Pairings: Zoe Van Helsing/Dracula implied Agatha/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Love you all! -Jen

Chapter Eight

It was the blaring of a car horn that brought Zoe back to reality. Her head was spinning as she blinked wearily around, trying to gauge her surroundings. The events that led to this moment had yet to resurface as she realized that she was oddly strapped into the backseat of someone’s car. Trying to sit up, the doctor squinted at the tall figure who sat almost hunched in the driver’s seat. It was dark and the heat was blasting at an ungodly, uncomfortably high level. Where was she and what the hell was going on?

“La naiba!” The familiar voice hissed, hitting the steering wheel hard. “Ticăloși englezi!”

Zoe’s brows knitted together as she eyed what was causing such a fuss. The red glow of a light. A stop light. They were stuck in traffic. Fighting her dizziness, she managed to prop herself up on one of her elbows. When the back seat creaked in response, the man suddenly whipped his head around. Dracula. He frowned deeply, his expression almost frightening. Try as she might, the doctor couldn’t discern the vampire’s current emotion. Whatever the case, he was less than thrilled.

“Stop moving and just stay still.” He finally spoke authoritatively. “We’ll be at the hospital in just a few minutes if all of these damn cars get out of the way!” He slammed his fist against the wheel and Zoe could almost swore she heard something crack. “Lay back down.”

“Hospital?” She mumbled, brows knitting in confusion as she tried to piece together what happened. When she suddenly remembered, her stomach sunk. The pain was indeed gone, but she felt nothing. Was she supposed to feel something? “I fainted…”

“You’ve been out cold for over five minutes.” Dracula replied, faint anxiety lacing his tone. “I didn’t trust the emergency medical services to get to the Foundation fast enough. It seemed only fitting I do so myself.” When the light turned green, the vampire hit the pedal hard causing the car to lurch. “What happened?! Are you in any pain?! I don’t smell blood. But I’m not writing anything off simply because of that.”

Being bombarded with the man’s questions only aided in her growing headache. Not to mention she wasn’t fond of his probable “well intended” kidnapping. She placed a hand on her stomach and focused hard. How she wished they were big enough to where she could be put at ease feeling them move. But he smelled no blood and she didn’t feel wet. Weren’t those obvious signs of miscarriage? If she had only experienced pain, maybe…

“I feel fine.” She managed to muster out a reply. Surprised by how weary her voice sounded. “Just...out of it.”

“Evidently.” Dracula muttered, rolling his eyes. “Were you feeling ill at all today? Did something happen at your oncology appointment? I knew I should have had Frank gather intel--”

“Intel?!” Zoe said, her voice suddenly gaining volume. “How...you’re having your dotting lawyer follow my every move now?!” She attempted to sit up, but the motion made her nauseated. “You and I have an agreement, but that doesn’t extend to you spying on my every move!”

“Technically, you’re keeping tabs on me.” The vampire shrugged. “And I’m only concerned in the well being of yo…” He paused, lips pressing into a firm line. “I’m just taking an interest in the safety of my children and their development.”

“Oh, I assure you.” Zoe snapped as they pulled into the mostly empty parking lot. “When it comes to them, I take everything into account!”

“Well if that were the case, maybe we wouldn’t be here.” Dracula said coldly, taking a parking space close to the building. “Stay here while I get you a wheelchair. Try to walk, and I’ll carry you inside. Your choice.”

The doctor’s jaw dropped as the Count stepped out of the vehicle and slammed the door shut. Unbuckling herself, Zoe’s eyes watched as the glare from the street lights lit up his figure as he walked towards the hospital. Even though she knew it was him, it still was a little eerie. His size was intimidating. Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if the babies would inherit that. That was, if they were still okay to begin with.

“At least you came to your senses and decided to wait.”

Zoe jumped in surprise at the sound of Dracula’s voice. Apparently, her mind had wandered far enough to where she hadn’t even realized his return. Reluctantly, she allowed him to help her into the wheelchair. Perhaps in any other circumstance, this display of obedience would’ve amused the Count. Yet right now, he felt anything but.

“If you’re not going to let me get up, at least take my license and insurance card to the front desk and sign me in.” The scientist frowned from their position in the lobby. “And don’t threaten anyone to get me seen faster. If you get kicked out, I’m not going to argue your case to get you back in.”

“No one could remove me from the premises if they tried.” And for the first time since she awoke, a flicker of a smirk crossed his features. “Public places don’t require invitations.”

“That’s a real pity.” She snorted, folding her arms over her chest. “I would’ve liked to see what would happen if they did. Would you burst into flames if you weren’t fast enough? Fly backwards…?”

Dracula gave her a lopsided sneer before taking a hold of her identification cards. Zoe watched him from afar, her hands now resting on her stomach. The longer she sat there in the clinic, the more concerned she began to grow. Before she had tried to push the worry aside, but now it felt real. She sucked in a breath as Dracula approached, her cards in one hand and a hospital bracelet in another.

“Hold out your wrist.” The vampire said, undoing the sticky side of the band. “They’re going to bring you back in a minute.” When Zoe opened her mouth, Dracula rolled his eyes. “I didn’t threaten them. Based on your medical history and symptoms, they want to get you checked out sooner rather than later. And,” he added lightheartedly. “It just happens to be a slow night. Just our luck.”

“Right…” She pursed her lips. “Luck.”

There was something unsettling being in the emergency ward at night. As she was strapped up to machines, an IV placed into her arm, Zoe found herself staring up at the ceiling trying to count the many tiny holes in the tiles. She could feel Dracula watching her from his seat. But much to her relief, he didn’t say anything. When the doctor entered the room--not her usual one, accompanied by a very tired looking resident luggy an ultrasound machine, they both perked up.

“Dr. Sahli.” The man smiled, reaching out to shake both of their hands. “I hear you had some concerns about your pregnancy?”

“Yes.” Dracula cut in before Zoe could. “There was an incident at work. She fainted for a few minutes.” His eyes flickered onto the scientist. “I thought it best we come here due to the circumstances.”

“I see.” The doctor nodded, beginning to set up the equipment. “I’ve pulled up your file, Dr. Van Helsing. I think you made a good call coming in.” He muttered something to the resident that Zoe couldn’t pick up. “Any other symptoms besides the fainting?”

“Just sharp pain.” Zoe admitted, inhaling as her abdomen was exposed. “That’s gone away, but the dizziness is still there.” She stiffened as the gel was squeezed onto her stomach, eyes unable to meet Dracula’s. “Do you think...something could be wrong?”

“Let’s not try to get ahead of ourselves and worry.” The older man smiled, placing the probe against her skin. Carefully, he began to move it around until the most reassuring sound in the world filled Zoe’s ears. Heartbeats. “Just what I was looking for.”

The scientist watched in awe as the two little humanoid beings moved about on the screen. At times, she almost swore they were kicking each other. She yearned for the moment where she could feel the movements back. But there they were. Wiggling. Alive. Still blissfully unaware of the world outside.

“I don’t see any fetal distress and amniotic fluid levels look fine…” Dr. Sahli mumbled, panning across the monitor. “I’d say this was nothing more than a scare. But based on your high risk pregnancy, I’d like to run some tests and keep you overnight.” The man stated, setting the probe down. “Overexertion and dehydration could have some part in what happened. I just want to make sure everything is fit as a fiddle before sending you off.”

“Am I allowed to stay with her?” Dracula inquired, Zoe throwing him a glare. “I am the father.”

“I don’t see why not.” The innocent doctor smiled, not noticing the furious stare the expectant mother was giving the vampire. “I’ll let the nurses’ station know once we get Dr. Van Helsing settled.”

“Oh, and one more thing.” The Count said, causing both the doctor and resident to glance up. “Is it too much to request a room without windows? I have rather sensitive skin, a rare condition, and I think Zoe will rest better with less light anyway.” He gave a wide smile. “I’d much appreciate it.”

XXX

“I don’t want to be here.” Zoe grimaced from her hospital bed. “And I don’t like you being here.”

“You’ve expressed that several times now.” Dracula sighed, flipping the page of the magazine he was reading. Family Life. She recognized the title from her visits to the doctor. Cast aside on some table with the hopes that someone would pick it up for a peek. “But as I have clearly stated each time, I have no plans to go anywhere. I’m staying put.”

“I need to tell Jack what’s going on and let him know I won’t be in tomorrow.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “And somehow explain that you won’t be. Not to mention that somehow someone is going to have to bring my work to me.”

“You will be doing no such thing until you’re cleared by a professional.” The vampire replied coolly. “The doctor said you need to take things easy. While I find science positively fascinating, you scrutinizing over papers about lab work you can’t actually go in and physically see doesn’t excite me. You’ll only stress yourself further by fixating on what’s out of your hands.”

“Since when did you become a psychologist?” The scientist snorted, looking bemused at the vampire. “And a simple laptop would suffice for me to do what I need. I’d just need the proper clearance to gain access to the files and contact the laboratory for a digital copy of the test results…” The more that she thought about it, the further she realized how tedious this all was. “I just need my work computer. That’s all.”

Dracula stared at her for a long moment, his dark eyes fixed on her face. Then, without a word, he picked his magazine back up and started flipping through it again. It was as if their previous argument had never occurred. In retaliation, Zoe beamed an empty, plastic cup in his general direction. Without even looking up, the vampire gracefully dodged her attack.

“I should have never told you I was pregnant in the first place.” She grumbled, glowering as he seemingly ignored her. “Then I wouldn’t have to put up with any of this.”

“I would have found out eventually.” The vampire shrugged, still focused on one of the colorful pages. “I have a way of discovering secrets. A talent if you will. You learn as much when it comes to yourself.” The corners of his lips twitched into a small smirk. “We all have skeletons in the closet, Dr. Van Helsing.”

“And yours are supposed to be released from their confines!” Zoe shot back. “We have a legal binding contract to work together, and I don’t like games.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Especially right now.”

“Your great, great aunt would be so disappointed.” The Count chuckled. “She was rather talented at chess...well, in her mind.”

The scientist stiffened at the mention of Agatha. In a way, she felt as if saying the name would summon a demon. Or a ghost to say the very least. Glancing around quickly to make sure they were still alone, she turned back just in time to notice Dracula eyeing her oddly.

“Are you alright?” He inquired, any reminences of mocking having left his tone. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Fine.” She answered curtly. “Just tired.”

“Then try to sleep.” Dracula suggested, setting the magazine aside. “There’s no telling when your lab results will come back and the time of your discharge. You might as well rest as well as you can.” He paused, before adding. “If anything, sleeping will make the time seem to go by faster.”

“Am I to assume you’re just going to sit there and watch me the whole time?” Zoe inquired, her tone unpleasant. “That is possibly the least relaxing thing you can do for me right now."

"You won't even know I'm here." The vampire assured her as he readjusted his position. "Besides, I think you'd prefer I stay here with you rather than roam the halls of this fine establishment." He gestured to the air. "Who knows what smells might capture my attention. Why, if I remember correctly, I do believe we are over an operating theater. Surgical procedures can be rather bloody…"

Zoe narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't dare."

Dracula gave her fake, sheepish grin. "...Well now, knowing what I can and can't do, I suppose there is no harm or foul taking a quick trip to the blood bank. Technically I wouldn't be harming anyone so there goes any concern for breaching my contract."

"I should've let them destroy the house with you in it when I had the chance." Zoe spoke, fingers digging into the thin fabric of the blanket. "Fine. Be that way if you really are so desperate."

"Oh, there is no desperation." Dracula said with a content smile over his victory. "Just...well intentions…"

"Bite me." The scientist grumbled, letting her head fall onto her pillow.

"Not something I would advise you to say to a vampire." Dracula chuckled, his attention now on a new magazine. "Goodnight, Zoe. Get some rest."

If it weren’t for the twins and today’s exhausting events, Zoe would’ve tried her hardest to retaliate against the Count’s insistence. But her body betrayed her. The tendrils of sleep wrapped around her in a vice like grip.

No longer could the good scientist fight it as she found herself pulled down into the deep, dark abyss of unconsciousness. So far gone that not even her dreams could reach her. A place lost to her mind. A place lost to her. Only uninterrupted slumber. Something she truly needed.

XXX

Uninterrupted. If one considered a few hours of shut eye that. Zoe awoke to the sound of two people quietly talking--which clearly wasn’t soft enough as it woke her up. Blinking back sleep, she made out Dracula standing in the doorway speaking to Dr. Sahli. The vampire’s expression was unusually serious, similar to that of someone trying to absorb a lot of information at once. She noted the file folder in the doctor’s hand, the papers waving inside whenever the man made a gesture.

“So everything came back normal?” Dracula asked slowly. “No abnormalities?”

“None.” The doctor reassured him. “We ran multiple tests. It isn’t the cancer or something else. Just as I explained earlier, I think that after ruling everything else out, we can safely assume that what happened to Dr. Van Helsing was as simple as dehydration and overexertion. Does her job have a tendency to be stressful?”

“Only when she makes it that way.” The vampire replied, rolling his eyes. “So they’re all healthy? Her and the twins?” Even though Zoe was pretending to be asleep, she could feel Dracula’s gaze on her. “These are unusual circumstances.” And he wasn’t referring to her cancer or other risk factors. “Both babies are well?”

“Perfectly fine.” The doctor smiled. “I took the liberty of taking a few extra tests just to confirm. One I noticed hadn’t been done on her files was NIPT--a noninvasive prenatal testing. Since she’s high risk, I wanted to just check a few things out…” He paused. “There were a few things I noticed though.”

Dracula frowned. “I thought you said everything was fine?”

“It is, it is.” The doctor said, gesturing with his hands. “Just some of their genetics...well, they were a little odd. But nothing that seemed amiss. I could do further testing, put in an order for her to have an amniocentesis procedure done in a few weeks. But that carries some risks. And while I didn’t go into depth, nothing I saw was linked to any known diseases or disorders.”

The vampire nodded his head thoughtfully, processing every word the man said. After hearing the doctor speak about the twins’ DNA, Zoe decided it was time that she woke up. Forcing a yawn, she propped herself up in the bed. Both men turned to face her, the doctor looking rather surprised while Dracula seemed unimpressed. Evidently she wasn’t as good at playing pretend as she thought.

“I’m sorry if we woke you, Dr. Van Helsing.” The doctor apologized. “I was just discussing with your husband--”

“We’re not married.” She interrupted quickly. “Anyway, if these are my results, I’d like to be the one to hear them first hand.”

“Right. My apologies.” The man nodded, moving over to her bedside. Like the leech he was, Dracula followed close behind. “I’m not sure how much you heard, but all your test results came back clean. I ran some extra labs and saw some unusual genetic...well, I’m not sure what you’d call it. But it doesn’t seem to be anything harmful. I offered to run more tests--”

“That won’t be necessary.” Zoe said curtly, eyeing the folder as if she planned to snatch it at any given moment. “But if I could have a copy of the file, I’d much appreciate it.”

If there was an oddity in her children’s genetics, it wasn’t anything any medical professional would know about. Vampire DNA hadn’t been written into any textbooks. Zoe wasn’t concerned about them having a condition from these unknown markers. No. She needed to know what she was dealing with. What they had apparently inherited from Dracula.

“I can have one made.” Dr. Sahli promised. “...There was one other thing I was able to take a look at if you had any interest?” Dracula and Zoe looked at each other before the doctor continued. “I was able to determine your twins’ gender.”

Zoe looked taken aback. “This early? I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Well, when I ran the NIPT, it allows you to determine the gender based on what DNA found in the bloodstream. Or rather, their DNA found in Dr. Van Helsing’s blood. It’s more complex than it sounds, but that’s besides the point.” He smiled at the two wholeheartedly. “Are you interested to hear?”

Dracula and Zoe looked at each other once again. For the first time, it almost seemed as if the vampire was waiting to hear her opinion. She was tired, but Zoe felt a sense of eagerness begin to bubble up in her stomach.

“I suppose if you have them.” She said after a moment.

Dr. Sahli grinned. “Then, in that case.” He glanced from one parent to the other. “I’m pleased to inform you that you’re expecting boys.” The doctor chuckled, shaking his head. “And identical ones at that. Quite a handful indeed.”

And then, like a tsunami, a new wave of emotion hit her.

Anxiety.

Identical twin boys.

Two babies with unidentifiable genetic traits gifted to them by their vampire father.

Oh God.

#Dracula 2020 #Dracula #BBC Dracula #Zoe Van Helsing #Zoe x Dracula #Gemini

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smkkbert · 4 years

Text

Time for a story - Unfinished Business

When there was nothing that made waking up early easier for Felicity than the prospect of lazy morning sex, there was nothing that made it harder for her than dreaming of it.

Felicity hadn’t always been a fan of sex. It hadn’t had anything to do with prudery as some girls around her had thought. It had just been that Felicity hadn’t had the best experience when it had come to sex. Sure, it had been nice and everything, but there had also been some awkwardness and comfortability to it like nakedness often brought. In addition to that, it had often left her unsatisfied which had only increased the awkwardness, especially as her partner had rarely ever realized it. If he had, he had mostly acted like it had been her fault.

Only since Felicity had started dating Oliver, she had learned that sex could indeed be like this mighty hurricane that characters in the books she had been reading and in the movies she had been watching had talked about. Although Felicity had always found that especially first times were awkward because you saw the other person naked for the first time and had to learn all the ways you reacted to them and they reacted to you, sex with Oliver had been great from the first time. It had only grown even better after that.

Through the years, Felicity had learned that the simple reason behind this was that she and Oliver were soulmates, irretrievably connected to each other as star-crossed lovers deep inside. She and Oliver understood each other without words on a deeper level than other people understood each other even when they were telling each other everything they had experienced, thought or felt. It was so simple and so big at the same time.

Sex was one of their ways of saying they loved and needed each other. Sex was one of their ways of showing each other how well they knew each other already and learning something new about them. Sex was one of their ways of following that urge of connecting that was deep within them. Of course, sex was one of their ways of simply having fun too.

Because of how meaningful sex was for them, it had now become a frequent part of her dreams, and it often left a vivid memory on her. Like right now, Felicity could still feel the tickling of the hot water that had been pattering down on her skin under the shower. She had goosebumps from the ways Oliver’s warm hands had been roaming over her back, the callousness of her fingertips feeling scratchy against her soft skin. Wetness was pooling between her thighs, and she still felt how close to her orgasm she had been.

If Oliver had been lying on top of her, sleeping with his head on top of her chest as he listened to her heartbeat, she would have seduced him into morning sex right there. Of course she knew that it wouldn’t have taken a lot of seduction since Oliver, just like she herself, was in for morning sex almost every morning. It was almost like some kind of ritual.

Since Oliver wasn’t lying on top of her like he usually did, and she didn’t hear him in the bathroom either, Felicity guessed that he was out for his usual morning run. She would use the thirty minutes that she had left before her alarm would go off to try finding back into her dream once more.

Closing her eyes, Felicity turned onto her side and pulled her blanket up to her chin. She was just snuggling her cheek against the pillow to feel even warmer.

It wasn’t the blanket that made her feel warm though. It was the feeling that spread from her face all through her body that made her feel this warm. A smile spread on her face at the feeling. She didn’t have to open her eyes what it meant.

“You’re here.”

Only Oliver could make her feel that way. He didn’t have to say anything. He didn’t even have to touch her. He just had to be there and look at her. It made her feel incredibly content, safe and loved.

“I wasn’t feeling like going out.”

Felicity could hear in the huskiness of his voice that Oliver hadn’t had the luxury of a good night of sleep like Felicity herself had had. Through the years, Oliver had learned to sleep more peacefully. At the beginning of their relationship, sleeping for thirty minutes straight could have been considered a win. Now, he could fall asleep on the floor in the middle of the day.

Still, sometimes life triggered old traumas and made it hard for him to find the necessary rest to recover from his busy days. Felicity knew who was at fault for the sleepless nights Olive had had lately – Midas and Blood Rose.

That they had held Felicity hostage at the Smoak & Queen Science Center for Kids had been bad enough. That Midas had died while Oliver had tried to take him down had only made it worse. Felicity didn’t even want to start thinking about the fact that Blood Rose had managed to escape. She was somewhere out there now, probably plotting her revenge against them already. She had lost her loved one, so she was certainly going to come back at them sooner or later. All of that was pretty hard on Oliver.

Opening he eyes, Felicity saw Oliver lying on his side of the bed which had been almost completely unused since they had bought this bed years ago. He was lying on his side, his hands under his head to use as a pillow, as he watched her. The expression in his eyes was soft, but there were dark shadows under his eyes and a little bit of sadness in his smile.

“Morning.”

Felicity’s raspy whisper made the corners of Oliver’s lips twitch slightly. He moved closer to her until his chest brushed against her breasts with every intake of breath. Dipping his head forward a little, his nose brushed against hers.

“How are you feeling?” Felicity asked in a whisper, lifting her hand to Oliver’s cheek and stroking her fingertips through his stubble. “Any better?”

Oliver sighed. “I don’t know.”

Angling her head forward a little, Felicity rested her forehead against Oliver’s. She framed his face with both of her hands, holding him gently. He was so precious to her that she couldn’t possibly hold him too gently. She wished she could protect him from anything, including this.

“It will get better,” she promised, “because we will be careful and vigilant. It might take a while, but we will find Blood Rose. She won’t get to hurt our family even more than she already did. She chose the wrong side of law, and we won’t let her get away with it.”

Oliver’s eyes locked with Felicity’s intensely, and he could see how much he admired her determination. He himself often found himself troubling to be hopeful. He had experienced too much bad to just forget about it and think that everything was going to be okay at the end. At least sometimes he troubled with seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. It was a good thing that, at least for those times, Felicity still had enough hope for both of them.

Putting his fingers around her wrists, Oliver leaned forward and captured Felicity’s lips in a gentle kiss. His lips were soft on hers. His stubble scratched the soft skin around her lips in the way that Felicity loved so incredibly much. A low sigh fell from her lips, and Oliver used that opportunity to stroke his tongue against hers.

Although Felicity loved kissing Oliver, feeling like she could lose herself in the taste of his lips anytime, her sigh turned into a groan now. Frowning slightly, she pulled back and looked at Oliver.

“You already brushed your teeth,” Felicity complained, “that’s not fair.”

Felicity tried to escape the bed, so she could hurry to the bathroom and brush her teeth too. Before she could even move half an inch away, Oliver wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her even closer to him. He nuzzled her nose before brushing his lips against hers once more.

“I don’t mind,” he whispered against her lips, “and I want you. Now.”

With how normal their life was by now, it was easy to forget that Oliver had spent months on some weird island that hadn’t really offered basic sanitary facilities. What others could find disturbing, didn’t bother Oliver a lot of times. On the other hand, sometimes there were still things that barely anyone even noticed, but that could trigger the symptoms of Oliver’s PTSD to come back to the surface.

They were working on it. Just not this morning.

“And if the way you have been biting your lip and been moaning before is any indication, I’d say that you want me too.”

Indeed, thanks to her vivid dream, Felicity realized that she was in almost desperate need for her orgasm. She had been so close to it before. It almost felt like it had been real. Just the prospect of going back to having sex made her sex pulsating.

Felicity’s eyes locked on Oliver’s. His pupils were dilated. The iris was darkened. There was no doubt that he wanted her. His desire made her stomach tingle, and it shot a jolt of pleasure through her core.

Their lips met in a kiss. It was a lot hungrier than the kisses they had shared this morning so far. They knew that with the alarm going off in like twenty minutes, they couldn’t waste much time. Their mornings were always planned through to the second since a family with two working parents and five kids couldn’t just live for the moment.

Wrapping her leg around Oliver’s hip, Felicity opened herself to him. The hem of the shirt she had been sleeping in moved up her body, allowing her to move even closer to him. Her sex that had already dampened her panties with its juices pressed against the bulge in Oliver’s boxer briefs. A moan escaped her lips.

She loved how, even after all the years that they had been together already and all the times they had had sex already, neither of them needed much more than the thought of having sex with each other to be utterly turned on.

While Felicity was deepening the kiss, she pushed at Oliver’s shoulder. He got the hint and turned onto his back. With his hands at her hips, Oliver took her with him. She straddled his lap, and the new angle caused his clothed erection to rub against her clit. A low moan escaped her lips, allowing Oliver to stroke his tongue deeper into her mouth.

All the sensations – their hungry kiss, his rough hands stroking over her thighs and butt, his hard cock rubbing against her sensitive sex – brought back the images of her dream before. They had been under the shower, their chests pressed together, so that she had been able to feel his rapid heartbeat against her ribs. Her back had been pressed to the cold tiles, while the hot water of the shower had been streaming down on her. Her legs had been wrapped around Oliver’s hips as he had been burying himself in her sex over and over again.

Felicity knew that she couldn’t and didn’t want to wait any longer. She pushed at Oliver’s boxer briefs. He didn’t need any further motivation. With a quick movement, he pulled his boxer briefs down his legs and kicked them out of the bed. Felicity took off her panties at the same time.

Kneeling over him, Felicity locked eyes with Oliver. The iris of his eyes was so dark now that it was almost black. Oliver took hold of his cock and positioned it at her entrance. Before Felicity could sink down on him though, he moved his cock away teasingly. The tip of his cock moved between her folds and bumped against her clit.

A long moan fell from Felicity’s lips, and her head fell back. Oliver repeated the same teasing movement once more, causing Felicity’s eyes to flutter shut. He lips fell open, but no sound came out this time.

Her nerve endings felt like they were on fire. Her dream had left her desperate for more, but Oliver continued to tease her. It was so much, and it wasn’t enough at the same time.

Eventually, Felicity put her hand over Oliver’s around his cock. She positioned his cock at her entrance once more and sank down on him slowly. The feeling of welcoming him in her wet heat was indescribable. The way his cock spread her inner walls like only he could, reaching all those different spots that seemed to connect right with her soul, was so great, no matter how many times she had experienced it already.

Once he was seated deep inside of her, filling her perfectly like only he could, she started moving her hips back and forth slightly. The movements made his cock press against the slick walls of her sex firmly, touching and stimulating all those nerve endings. After a couple of times, Felicity changed her movements and used the muscles in her thighs to life her off Oliver a little before she sank down slowly once more.

Continuing to ride Oliver the way that she did, hard but somewhat slowly, Felicity let her head fall back and just enjoyed the feeling that she got from the way she and Oliver were connected. Having his cock moving inside of her was one thing. Feeling his hands moving from her thighs to her butt and up her back and all the way down again was another. Feeling Oliver’s heartbeat quickening beneath the palms of her hands was yet another one.

Morning sex just energized her for the day in a hundred different ways, and it really just was everything that she needed to know that this was going to be a good day.

It wasn’t long until Felicity felt her orgasm nearing. Her body felt like it was on fire, offering pleasure and maybe a little bit of pain at the same time. It was a wonderful mixture as the pleasure certainly outweighed the pain. She was on the good side of playing with fire.

Angling her face down again, she locked her eyes with Oliver’s. In his eyes, she could see everything that she needed to know. He was as close as she was, ready to give into the pleasure any second, but willing to prolong it for a little, just so they could-

“Daddy?”

Oliver’s and Felicity’s eyes both widened at the sound of their youngest’s voice. They stilled, holding their breaths to figure out if Addie had maybe just called for Oliver in her sleep like she did sometimes, or if she was coming any closer. The quick footsteps that came into the direction of their bedroom were anything they needed to know though.

When the handle of their door was pressed down, Felicity moved off Oliver. She and Oliver both groaned at the loss of contact, especially as they had been so close to coming but had been denied the release. Being caught by a child in the middle of an orgasm once had been bad already. Neither of them needed it to happen a second time.

Felicity pulled the blanket about herself and stroked a few strands of hair out of her face, so she could smile at Addie when she opened the door and hurried into the room. She was dressed in a white summer dress that was full of colorful flowers.

“Look, daddy,” Addie said loudly, turning around herself with spread arms, “I got dressed alone.”

“Wow,” Oliver replied, trying to sound happy and proud despite the frustration that at least Felicity could hear in his voice, “that’s amazing. I am so proud of you.”

“I am a big girl now.”

“Oh, yes you are,” Oliver agreed, nodding his head, “but you are almost three years old, so it’s not a surprise. You really have become a big girl.”

“I am ready for breakfast now.”

“Good.” Oliver’s voice sounded maybe a little bit too high to be believable. “Wake your siblings up already, okay? Daddy’s going to be downstairs in a minute.”

“Okay.”

With that, Addie an outside, and Felicity dropped her upped body back into the pillow, shaking her head to herself. With five kids, it really was never getting boring. There was always something going on, always some kind of chaos handed to them.

“She can’t go to her play group in her summer dress,” Felicity said with a sigh, lifting her hand to her forehead, as she stared at the ceiling, “or she is catching another bad cold.”

“Oh, you’re saying.”

Felicity turned her head to see Oliver staring at the ceiling grumpily. He was just as pleased about the interruption as she had been Felicity guessed.

Turning onto her side, Felicity propped onto her forearm and leaned over Oliver. Since Oliver seemed to refuse to look at her, Felicity put he fingers to his chin and turned his face towards her. Oliver perked up his eyebrows.

“This,” she whispered, “is not over.”

Oliver pushed his tongue against his cheek. “I told Addie that it will take at least a minute until I am downstairs and-“

Felicity’s alarm going off was enough to make Oliver stop and grumble. With the little time that they had in the mornings, they both knew that they didn’t have any time now. The alarm was the start of a strict routine they had to follow to make sure that their kids were going to arrive at school and in their play groups in time as well as they had to make sure that they were going to be in their offices in time too.

Once Felicity had turned off her alarm, she turned back to Oliver and placed a firm kiss onto his lips.

“This,” she promised, “is not over yet, and we will pick up right here as soon as we can.”

“Hopefully,” Oliver grumbled, “because I am not even close to be finished with you.”

Felicity really wanted that orgasm that she had been denied twice today. Tapping the end of her pen on the top of her desk, she thought about how good she had felt with Oliver’s hands all over her and his cock so deep inside of her. Just recalling her memories from earlier today turned her on so much that she had to push her thighs together.

As a woman in STEM, Felicity knew that she had to work at least twice as hard as every man in the same professional position. That she had married a billionaire who had actually been the one owning the company before it had become theirs. It was why she had made a point of being perfectly professional during work, at least as long as anyone was here.

Sometimes, during days like this, Felicity wondered if maybe, she should just act like a man would do. She doubted that any man in her position would even hesitate for a second to call their wife of girlfriend for a little lunch quickie. They wouldn’t fear what their employees or anyone else were thinking about them. For men, it was perfectly fine to use their lunchbreak for a little sexual release.

Puckering her lips, Felicity looked at the desk in front of her office. Emily’s place was currently unoccupied as she had gone down into the cafeteria to grab some lunch. If Oliver came here now, nobody would notice. Even if she came back, she knew that she could trust Emily to keep quiet about it. She was a good assistant and a good friend.

With a quick movement, Felicity grabbed her phone and dialed Oliver’s number.

“Hey.”

Felicity wasn’t surprised that he took the call immediately. He had done his best to avoid touching her in the kitchen this morning. He had been and probably still was just as much on the edge as Felicity was too.

“You have two options.” Felicity figured it was best to get right to the point. “Option number one. You come right here and get me that orgasm I was denied this morning. Option number two. You don’t come here, and I will finish this myself because, God, I really, really need that orgasm.”

“I am already in the elevator on the way to your office,” Oliver replied, “so don’t you dare start before I am there. I only have five minutes though.”

“Two minutes will be more than enough if you bring you A-game.”

“I always bring my A-game.”

Felicity licked her lips. “So you are going to push up my skirt until it pools around my waist.”

“With my fingers stroking over your skin.”

“And you will take off my panties-“

“-tearing them off actually-“

“-and press my against the wall to take me-“

“-hard and fast-“

“-and then you will-“

When Oliver entered her office now, Felicity ended the call. Oliver did the same, pushing his phone into the pocket of his jacket. He crossed the distance towards her, took her hand and pulled her with him into the bathroom.

With their eyes locked onto each other, Oliver pushed the hem of her dress up until it pooled around her waist. Just like he had said before too, he ripped her panties off of her. The sound it created sent a jolt of pleasure right through her core. Taking a step forward, he caged her in between his body and the wall. His eyes were still on hers, dark and full of desire.

Felicity pushed her tongue against the inside of her cheek and roamed Oliver’s chest with her hands. She brushed her fingertips against his clothed erection before she unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants and boxer briefs down in one go. She grabbed his cock and moved her fingers along the thick veins that there showing there towards the tip of his erection.

With a guttural groan, Oliver captured Felicity’s lips in a needy kiss. His hands moved down from her hips to her butt, grazing the slim line between the cheeks of her ass. As Oliver deepened the kiss, leaning more against Felicity, so she was caged in even more, he lowered his hands to the back of her knees and pushed her up against the wall. Felicity grabbed his cock and positioned it at her entrance.

Breaking the kiss, Oliver locked eyes with Felicity. Slowly, he lowered her onto his erection, pushing his hips forward to bury himself deep inside of her. The slick walls of her inner channel welcomed him easily, stretching and fluttering around him. Her legs wrapped around his hips, making him go even deeper.

Once he was seated deep inside of her, their lips met in another passionate kiss. Their tongues danced together. Oliver’s front teeth grazed her bottom lip, making her moan into the kiss.

As Oliver’s hips picked up a quick and hard rhythm, causing his skin to slap against hers. The sound filled the room, mixing with the muffled moans that fell from their lips. Felicity snuck her fingers under the hem of Oliver’s shirt, scratching the ruffled skin on his lower back slightly, but Oliver pulled her hands away and lifted them over her head. His hands stayed wrapped around her wrists, pinning them against the wall.

Oliver hadn’t lied when he had said that he was going to bring his A-game. With the way he had caged her in between his body and the wall, the angle of his thrusts allowed him to hit all the right spots inside of her. A searing fire had built in the pit of her stomach and threatened to spread all inside of her. She was so deliciously close to her orgasm and this time-

“Felicity?”

With a loud groan of frustration, Oliver broke the kiss. Quickly, hopefully before Emily heard them, Felicity slapped her hand onto Oliver’s lips and shot him a strict look. Emily was a good assistant and friend, so Felicity didn’t want to put her through the embarrassment of listening to them having sex.

Felicity sucked in a deep breath, trying to push the burning feeling of pleasure away from her. “Yes?”

“Mr. Holmes is here.”

Holing onto Oliver’s shoulder, Felicity let go of his lips to glance at her watch. Her hips shifted doing so, creating a new friction that almost made her eyes roll into the back of her head. Oliver must have felt it too because he dropped his head to the crook between her shoulder and neck, biting down on her tender skin lightly.

“He is almost twenty minutes early,” Felicity called with raspy voice.

“He said he had an appointment in the neighborhood and thought he’d come by immediately,” Emily explained, “but I can make him wait downstairs.”

Oliver looked at Felicity urgently, nodding his head. He really wanted her to say that it was better to have Mr. Holmes wait downstairs. The thought of leaving this unfinished yet again really made Felicity eager to agree. Mr. Holmes was an important client though, and she might need the extra twenty minutes to talk to him.

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Alright.”

While Emily was leaving if the sounds of her steps becoming quieter was any indication, Felicity looked at Oliver. He looked focused and maybe a tiny little bit annoyed or whatever to call it.

“I’m sorry,” Felicity whispered, peppering kisses all over Oliver’s face. “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.”

Oliver just grumbled in response. When Felicity pushed at his hips to make him let go of her, it turned in a joint groan of them both. The loss of contact after another unfulfilling attempt at working to their release was almost physically hurting them.

“This is really important,” she told him, quickly cleaning herself with a wet washcloth, “because, otherwise, nothing could have stopped me from stopping there.”

Oliver stepped behind her and kissed the back of her head before he started cleaning himself up too. Felicity knew that he was not mad at her. He understood that her work was important to her. She would always put their family over the company, but she would put the company over sex. At least sometimes.

“How long do you have to work today?”

“I am free at around three pm.”

“Great,” Oliver replied, “because in that case I suggest that we meet at home right after that, so we can finally screw each other’s brains out.”

“Sounds perfect.” Felicity sighed and buckled Oliver’s belt. “Because I really prefer undressing you over helping you get dressed.”

Oliver chuckled, tugging a strand of her hair behind her ear and learned down to kiss her. The moment their lips brushed together, the pleasure seemed to wake up and roll over them again.

“Three thirty. I will wait for you in bed. Naked.”

Felicity groaned, her fingers tightening around the lapels of his jacket. “You are making it impossible to wait until three thirty.”

“That is just because it’s already impossible to me,” Oliver whispered into her ear before he leaned back and winked at her. “See you at three thirty.”

“No minute later.”

→ → → → →

“It’s three thirty,” Felicity said as she stepped into the house, “so why aren’t you naked?”

Oliver pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, looking Felicity up and down. He tried to hide it, but Felicity could see the desire in his eyes. The last hours since they had said goodbye in the bathroom behind her office had probably been filled with as many thoughts of what they would do when they saw each other again as hers had been. She had barely been able to focus on her meeting with Mr. Holmes or anything really.

Oliver got up from where he was sitting on the steps of the stairs and approached her slowly. He took her purse from her and placed it next to the small table where they always kept their keys. He unbuttoned her coat after that and put it to the coat rack. His arms wrapped around Felicity’s waist slowly then. His lips lowered onto hers.

Felicity sighed at the sweet kiss. She sighed against Oliver’s lips and wrapped her arms around Oliver’s shoulders. Her fingers moved into his hair, her fingernails scratching his scalp lightly. A soft wave of passion ran through her.

When their lips parted, Felicity licked her lips. She could still taste Oliver on there, and it made her sigh softly. God, how much she loved to have his taste on her lips after they had kissed. She wished it could just be there forever.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Queen?”

“I don’t know,” Oliver asked, letting his fingers stroke from her back to her waist and down to her hips, “but would it work if I was trying?”

Felicity smiled. “Absolutely.”

“Good,” Oliver replied and brushed his lips against hers once more, “because I have prepared everything to make sure that we will have some fun now and nobody will interrupt us.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.” Oliver nodded his head firmly. “William, Emmy and Tommy are still in school. Millie and Addie are in their playgroups. Raisa is out to shop some groceries. It’s just us and a romantic setting in out bathroom.”

“Sounds perfect,” Felicity replied and straightened up onto the tips of her toes to capture Oliver’s lips in another gentle kiss, “so let’s lead the way, Mister.”

Oliver didn’t have to be asked twice. He wrapped his arms around Felicity’s waist tightly and lifted her off the floor. Their lips continued to explore each other with slow and gentle movements. It was like they had just fallen in love with each other, and it was the first and the last time that they were going to make love.

It was one more thing that Felicity loved about having sex with Oliver. It was never the same. They could have lazy morning sex to energize themselves for the day. They could fuck like there was no tomorrow. They could make sweet love. They could do all of that and more.

When they had reached the top of the stairs, Felicity slipped out of her shoes and let them drop onto the floor. Oliver carried her further into their bedroom and towards the en-suite bathroom.

In front of the door, he lowered her to the floor. The soles of her feet touched the soft carpet. Oliver deepened the kiss for a moment longer, angling her back. When their lips parted, Oliver nuzzled her nose briefly before he pulled her back into an upright position. With his hands at her hips, he turned Felicity around then. His chest pressed to her back. His arms stayed wrapped around her middle. His lips leaned against her ear.

“I thought a warm bath was the right thing to get us into the right mood,” he whispered into her ear, “so we have the warm water and the bubbles surrounding us while we have- What the hell?”

Felicity tried not to, but she couldn’t stop herself from laughing when Oliver pushed open the door to reveal the romantic setup that he had created for her only for them to be surprised with Hawk, who was sitting in the bathtub full of bubbles and rose petals. His head rested on the edge of the bathtub, looking at them innocently.

“I guess we haven’t been the only ones in need of some romance.”

“You!” Oliver pointed his finger at Hawk, who lifted his head from the edge of the bathtub and waggled his tail nervously. “When I get my fingers onto you.”

Hawk jumped out of the bathtub quickly and shook himself. Drops of water as well as bath foam was splashing in their direction. Oliver and Felicity laughed, trying to hide from the water. That gave Hawk the opportunity to escape them before Oliver could have indeed gotten his hands on him.

Felicity leaned against Oliver, and he placed a kiss to her temple. He was still chuckling, and so was Felicity.

“This was a really nice thing you did for Hawk.”

“I know,” Oliver replied with a desperate sigh, “I just love him so much.”

“So much, hm?”

Oliver’s eyes sparkled. “I was really looking forward to enjoying this bubble bath with him.”

Felicity laughed, dropping her forehead against Oliver’s chest. She guessed that their life was never going to get boring. Luckily.

When Felicity angled her head back to look at Oliver’s face, she found his eyes already on hers. He lowered his head towards her, about to brush his lips against her lips when the front door was unlocked downstairs. Felicity pulled away, frowning.

“I thought everyone was out.”

“Mom?” they heard Emmy calling from downstairs a moment later. “Dad?”

“I guess school was out early today,” Oliver grumbled, his hands tightening on Felicity’s hips, “which is just great.”

Felicity sighed, nodding her head. She patted Oliver’s chest lightly and brushed her lips against his jaw softly.

“I guess we are lucky that we aren’t interrupted at a later time,” Felicity said with a sigh, shaking her head, “because I don’t think I could bear the thought of having you inside me without coming once more.”

Oliver nodded his head. “Agreed.”

He pecked Felicity’s lips before she turned around to check on Emmy downstairs. Before she had left the bathroom, Oliver held her back though.

“Hey.”

Felicity turned around to him in the frame of the door and perked up her eyebrows.

“I will get you that orgasm. Today. I promise.”

Felicity smiled, winking at him. “I know.”

There was always a chance that promises couldn’t be kept. No matter how much you tried, you could never really be sure. With this promise, Felicity knew that Oliver wouldn’t allow anything to come in between. He needed himself to keep that promise as much as Felicity needed him to keep it.

She’d take it even if it was her even hornier dream-version of Oliver that would have to do the job at the end. Her two Olivers really never disappointed.

→ → → → →

The lack of orgasms this day had brought might have been harder on Felicity than she had realized when their last attempt at sex had failed. Doing the dishes after the dinner while the kids had finally agreed on a movie to watch now, Felicity felt her mood growing darker though. It couldn’t be time for the kids to go to bed soon enough.

When Felicity took the baking dish, Hawk lifted his paw and lifted it against her leg.

“You don’t really think that you get to lick out the rests of this after what you did today, do you?”

Hawk whined, touching her leg with his paw once more. He looked at her with his big, dark eyes pleadingly, but Felicity shook her head.

“There is no way that you will get a treat after you have taken away my treat and-“

“Give the dog the baking dish.”

Felicity perked up her eyebrows, looking at Oliver, who was standing in the frame of the door. The expression in his eyes was intense.

“He ruined the bath, so I am not going to give him-“

“Give him the baking dish,” Oliver repeated, “and then come here.”

Felicity frowned. “Oliver, what are you-?”

Oliver crossed the distance towards her, took the baking dish and lowered it to the floor, so Hawk could lick out the remains of food that were still in there. Taking her hand, he pulled her with him towards the garage then.

“Oliver, what-?”

When Oliver pushed her into the garage, switching on the light, and locked the door behind them, it finally clicked with Felicity. She finally got what they were doing in the garage.

“Oh, thank god.”

Oliver was just as eager to finally move this forward as she was. He put his hands to her hips, lifting her onto the hood of her car. Spreading his legs, he stepped between them and pressed his hips in the juncture of her legs. His hand grabbed some strands of hair at the back of her head and pulled her towards him. His lips captured hers in a hungry kiss.

All those failed attempts at being pleasured to the peak had left its marks on Felicity. Just feeling Oliver’s already half-erect cock against her sex, having his hands roam her body and uniting their lips in the searing kiss was all she needed to be utterly turned on already. She didn’t need any foreplay. She had had a lot of foreplay today already, and there was no way that she was going to miss the ecstasy of her orgasm another time.

“I want you,” she whispered against Oliver’s lips, “right now.”

Oliver nodded his head in agreement before he broke the kiss. With a quick movement, he pulled her off the hood. He untied the bow at the front of her sweatpants and pushed the pants as well as her panties down in one go. Felicity reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, but he slapped her hands away lightly.

Felicity wanted to complain because there was no way that she was going to lose more time than necessary. Her complaint died on the tip of her tongue when Oliver suddenly went down on his knees and buried his head in the juncture of her legs though. His lips closed around her clit, while two of his fingers thrusted into her wet channel without any hesitance.

His tongue was drawing small circles around her clit. His lips latched onto her folds. His fingers thrusted in and out of her channel with a quick rhythm. His fingertips brushed against all her most sensitive spots.

This was so good. It was better than good. It was better than any word she could possibly find for it. It was feeling so unbelievably whatever.

Felicity had no idea how Oliver had the strength to do this. As much as she loved to give him a blowjob and have him at her mercy, especially when he was on the edge already and she could tease him until he was feeling that he was going crazy, she wouldn’t have the energy to do so today. After everything they had been through already, now she really just wanted to be released from her frustration. She really just wanted to come.

She had no words to tell Oliver, so she just gabbed some strands of his hair and pulled him even more against her sensitive sex.

With how well Oliver knew her body, knew what she liked and what she needed to come, it didn’t take him long to have a wave of pleasure running through her body. He just continued to flick the tip of his tongue against her clit, using the rough top of his tongue to pleasure her until her legs were shaking and her moan became even louder. When her fingers scratched over his scalp particularly firmly, he groaned against her clit. The sound made her most sensitive parts vibrate in a way that made her shiver and pushed her off the edge.

Finally.

“Oh, god, Oliver,” she whispered, her head falling back as she enjoyed the pleasure running through her, “just don’t stop.”

Of course Oliver didn’t stop. He continued to use his tongue and his fingers to prolong her pleasure for as long as possible. The mighty wave that had rolled over her when the orgasm had first hit her, ceased slowly. The hot prickling turned into a warm shiver. Until, eventually, those warm shivers let go of her and allowed her to take in her surroundings once more.

Pulling at Oliver’s hair, she made him let go of her clit and prompted him to straighten up. As soon as his face was on one level with hers, Felicity framed his face with her hands and pulled him towards her. She captured his lips in a kiss, enjoying the taste of herself on there. They both moaned in unison.

She couldn’t possibly love this man more than she did. All her heart, all her soul and everything she was or had ever been was connected with him, loved him. It was a lot, and sometimes the thought even scared her a little bit because she felt like it should be impossible to love someone as much as she loved Oliver.

That man and their kids were just everything to her.

Felicity kicked off her sweatpants and let them drop to the floor. Hooking her fingers in the waistband of Oliver’s sweatpants, she pulled him back close to her. When she aimed to take off his sweatpants and boxer briefs right now, Oliver didn’t push her hands away. Instead, he helped her getting rid of the annoying layers of clothes that were in their way. Positioning his cock at her entrance, he locked eyes with her.

For some reason that Felicity would never truly understand, that first thrust of Oliver’s cock into her tight channel would always feel like coming home. There was something so grounding to having Oliver thrust into her. Uniting with him was all she really needed to know where her place in life was.

Once Oliver’s cock was seated inside of her, his hips stilled. He lifted his hand to her face, stroking his fingertips over her cheek. Oliver’s fingers were trembling slightly, showing how much it really took from him to keep onto the little bit of control he still had on himself. He was desperate for his own release, but he refused to just pound into her until he had what he wanted and needed. He wanted to make this good for her too because they had both waited for this too long already.

Felicity wrapped her arms around Oliver’s neck and wrapped her legs around his hips. With the way their bodies were pressed close to each other now and with the new angle of penetration, Oliver couldn’t hold still any longer. He started thrusting, going for a quick but deep rhythm.

Oliver’s thrusts hit the most sensitive parts inside of her, rubbing against all the right spots and creating a perfect friction. There was nothing about his thrusts that wasn’t to love. It was just perfect.

With that first orgasm that had been running through her, Felicity was suddenly a lot more relaxed. She had gotten the much-needed release, so she felt like she could take her time and enjoy all the pleasure Oliver was making her feel now. She didn’t need a quick release anymore.

Oliver on the other hand was very eager to finally get the pleasure that he had been denied several times now too. His thrusts were losing its rhythm. Gritting his teeth, he held on though. he didn’t want to come before she had come again.

Felicity grabbed Oliver’s hand and led it between their bodies. His fingers rubbed against her clit in a quick rhythm. That way, Felicity’s pleasure was increased quickly. Within seconds, she felt the tips of her toes tickling until the pleasure ran all through her body. With a long moan, Felicity let Oliver know that he had achieved his goal. It was all he needed to let go too. Only two more thrusts and he released into her.

They held onto each other tightly, moving somewhat in synch to prolong their pleasure for as long as they possibly could. Eventually, their bodies stopped moving though. They continued to hold onto each other, letting their hearts beat in unison while they were trying to catch their breaths.

“Damn it, this was good,” Oliver said after a moment, “and so needed.”

Chuckling, Felicity angled her head back to look at Oliver. She put her hand to his cheek and swiped her thumb of his bottom lip. It was reddened and swollen from their kisses, but it still felt so incredibly soft.

“I love you,” Felicity whispered because she wasn’t sure if she had told him today already, and she felt like no day should go by without it, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Oliver brushed his lips against hers before he pulled her off the hood of the car and turned her around. When his hips pressed against her butt, she could feel that he wasn’t done yet. “And we are both going to love this.”

He thrust back inside of her from behind her, making Felicity’s body slump forward as she was still so very sensitive. Her hands looked for anything to hold onto, but the car didn’t offer anything. Biting down on her bottom lip to quiet her moans, Felicity grabbed his hand on her hip, lacing her fingers through it.

Oliver leaned over her, covering her back with his chest. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear, kissing it before he whispered, “Ready for another round?”

Felicity just nodded he head because, God, she was ready to be pleasured once more. Three was her lucky charm, and after their three failed attempts at sex, she guessed three orgasm was were only fair. Maybe, if she was really lucky, she might even get a forth orgasm since she had missed that one in her dream too.

Either way, she really wanted to feel Oliver moving inside of her again. It was too good for her to resist the offer.

“Ready,” Felicity whispered, “when you are.”

* * *

@fannaz @promiseyoullbepatientwithme @bytemegeekette @felicity-said-just-in-case @phanseptiic @orangeisorange @mspotatohead14 @whentheheavenfades @emmaamelia95 @smoakingskye @seaolicity @ourwritinginvein @1022bridgetp @felicityqueenforever @leagueofolicity17 @yryssss @myhauntedblacksoul @sherlock44 @sinceriouslybea @olivyflavescentdeer @olicitys-castle @ofnothingcharming @vaelisamaza @smoakedandcharmed @alexisa1206 @mysaudadespt2 @florence-bubbles @addictiontelly @queens-of-arrows @memcjo @hysterical-for-joshifer-blog @oswinelevenforever @olicitylovemaking @bandanab310 @mymusiclove101 @lynslogic @scarletqueen23 @olicityshipper19 @alex-wesley @arrows-4ever @unabashedlynerdypatrol @louehmysoul @ligiapimenta @chattyyana @charlie-leau @coal000 @samcrowleys @ishippolivia @julianegomesqueen @malafle @miriam1779 @charlinert @melaux @ontheolicityship @myshipperlife @wrightainsley @lexi9515 @ladygreenwood @multi-fandom-crazy-fangirl @morinamel @mje-thomas @kebarry @canadianheartgirl @nannett2307 @almondblossomme @kathrynelizabeth89 @imdfabulous @mrt2501 @arsipaci14 @salasvia @brandis91 @cainc3 @morganmiguess @pr0fessi0nal-fangurl @iamisalima @nessafrancis-blog @jonhdiggle @niki-is-amazing @universed-posts @hopeful-warrior @senoritaswiftie @bellemmie @green-arrows-of-karamel @iheartarrow @olicityovereverything @oliverfel4 @olicity-in-the-heart @fullychippedcreation @geemarie310 @everything-but-normal-cat @myarroworld @tjmartinez21-blog @pleasantfanandstudent @j69confessional2 @scentedcolorpirate @icanica74 @tjmartinez98 @certainmentalityface @tatianadamaceno @ryelew @wildwillowzepplin @missafairy @letsplaymurde-r @lipizette @positivepiper @nuttymilkshakehologram @laksagirl @turnupthemusicandscream @pumpernickle93 @onceuponanolicity @1106angel @jaspertown @fadinglands @morganashimi83 @mochababychristy @omglovechrissie @mariejr88-blog @thetaufactor @onceuponanolicity @speakandseethetruth @bri206 @aglasgo @geemarie @pineprincess @nerdgirljen @eternal-olicity14 @allyouhadtodowas-stay-stay-stay @lovelycssefan @tsseract @flowerandsunshine @dcnmarvelgamergeek @blondeeoneexox @monetsmark @bb-olicity @mashamarty @rulerofsilence @erika-amber @nothingmorethanmyotps @kayleenyc @tonto16 @olicityfluv @olicitea1990 @haahaaa2408 @pattid1 @faegal04 @24karatgem @wrldtravler @readerkas @olicity-beliver @greencoffeecups @snorlaxishere

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#arrow #olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #time for a story

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crqstalite · 4 years

Text

in autumn.

OCtober prompt ‘autumn’. yes! i am four days late as of publishing this 10.4.2020 at one in the morning but i digress. the prompt wouldn’t leave me alone, so here it is lol. just a fluff piece about a bit of reflection and one cold elf girlfriend.

ship: marzeyna lavellan/cullen rutherford word count: 2,060

Skyhold in autumn.

Creators, it was beautiful.

Or at least, Marzeyna thought so. Sure, she’d experienced it year after year with Clan Lavellan in the Free Marches, but it made her smile at the fortress they’d moved into earlier this year. The shades of red and orange and the hues of yellow that had slowly taken over the trees as the year wore on, she couldn’t think of any other place that she’d want to be. Other than back in Wycome to assist with rebuilding, sure, but she was happy enough to wander the place on an off day.

Of course, nothing ever just lasted forever did it? She’d also be ripped away from it in favor of visiting Halamshiral -- damned place within the next few weeks to prevent an assassination. Beyond the fact she would be the first of her living Clan to be there in their lifetimes, she would also have to endure nobles.

Plenty of human nobles. With all their fancy dresses, and all their fancy wines and the Games they liked to play with the people who attended the event, and their distaste for elves.

To say the least, she wasn’t particularly excited.

Evidence of their impending trip being the overly complicated ‘art’ Vivienne had done to her hair earlier this afternoon. She trusted the woman with anything and everything presentation (the dress she’d commissioned from Val Royeaux was nothing short of show-stopping, something Marzeyna would have to get used to the idea of but was still drooling over hours later), but she’s still picking the glitzy pins out of her hair nearly three hours after the afternoon spent bathing in the cooling sun in Vivienne’s loft. Relaxing, sure. She rarely had time to talk about the mundane with anyone.

By the time they got back from Orlais, chances are the snow would start to set in and it’d be Haven all over again. No more crunching leaves under boots or the off-chance she’d see a stray cat lounging on a window sill, just the freezing cold (well, more than usual at least) starting to set in to her bones and making her grateful she could get out of the mountains.

Then again, there’s also the impending doom of Corypheus.

But for now, she could enjoy the cool and crisp air whipping around the battlements, playing with her hair like flames fanned by the wind. She loves it, and there haven’t been enough moments as of late to take solace in what she likes. For the first time in weeks she’s actually sat down in her own desk, and for the first time in other weeks, she’s sat down with Josephine to go through every diplomatic issue she’d missed since she set out for the Arbor Wilds.

(They could not pay her enough to do that again, Inquisitor or not she did not have the attention span or willpower. There are still stacks of reports left for another date in her quarters. Under a paperweight, because she hasn’t gotten enough of the beautiful autumn breeze and has left the windows open. If a few blew away, well, nobody would be any the wiser.)

A door clicks open on her left, and she turns from scenic view of the snowy valley, pushing another rogue curl behind her ear and blowing another out of her face. Marzeyna had come up to the battlements mostly just to walk, but also to pull another diligent person away from his work, as she typically did whenever she was back in Skyhold. She smiles to herself anyway, as annoying as the rest of the world could be, at least she still had Cullen Rutherford by her side.

As tired as both of them have been as of late, it is still good to see him. Since they’d been decidedly moving further and further out from Skyhold, the more and more he had to deploy soldiers and the like. Another thing that not even Varric could pay her enough to do -- that wasn’t her favorite thing to do and she was not interested in learning.

“Long day?” She asks, leaning against the half wall while he runs a hand through his hair, “Looked like you could use a break.”

“I could, yes. Though--”

“Though nothing. Look how nice of a day it is out, it’s already autumn here.” Marzeyna replies, grinning.

That pulls a smile out of him, “That it is. I’d assume you like the change in weather?”

“Well, it’s no longer sweltering but it’s not freezing just yet either. Like a lull in the storm,” A leaf flutters up from one of the trees in the courtyard, dancing in the wind before disappearing back down the wall, “Relish in this, I’m sure we’ll come back to snow by the time Orlais has had it’s way with us.”

She nearly pouts at the smirk he gives her, mildly offended he’s taking amusement in her dislike of the coming snowfall, “Then the Inquisitor isn’t a fan of the winter months?”

“Just because you have the fluffy mantle and heavy armor doesn’t mean the rest of us can compensate nearly as easily,” She teases, just barely holding herself back from crossing her arms, “It gets so cold at night, there’s no using a fireplace to offset it.”

“Didn’t Josephine requisition more of the down blankets?” Genuine concern, that was sweet the way he asked.

“She did. But it’s also been weeks since I’ve been back in Skyhold. I got used to the warmth in the Wilds and the Plains,” She pulls at her overcoat as if to wrap it tighter around her. It wasn’t like she could drag them around the fortress either, collecting dirt and who knew what else on the tail of it. She really needed to find a proper coat that didn’t hinder her magic if she intended to make it through the winter, “It’s not a fair comparison.”

“Isn’t it?” Her look must be that sour that it’s at least amusing, “Fine then.”

Marzeyna pauses again, letting them bask in the quiet for a bit, admiring the changing colors of the leaves and wind blustering around them. It’s been nothing but fighting Venatori for the last few weeks, that and the undead and whatever giants they can imagine. No more running for now, and she’s not kept to Cassandra, Blackwall and Dorian for company anymore (not that she doesn’t adore them, but...well). It’s good to just sit and acknowledge how much they’ve gotten done, how much things have changed.

Cullen looks at peace at least, a far improvement from how he’d been just before she left the last time. He notices her smiling directly at him, and visibly flushes.

“I did...miss you,” She offers, pointedly looking up at him. She pulls her hair over her shoulder, standing properly again, “Were things okay while I was gone?”

He knows what she’s referring to -- more withdrawal symptoms, “Not as many, no. A minor improvement, I assure you. You needn’t worry.”

“I will worry regardless, Cullen, I don’t want you in pain,” Another pause, “But...that is good to hear.”

“Most likely only because you pushed to keep me off of it.”

“That was all you, and you know it. I can’t fight that battle for you, but you’re still winning it.” She offers. That much was true, she may have been another opinion in the situation, but he was recovering, little by little.

He sighs, glancing out to the horizon for just a moment, “Yes. I suppose you’re right, and I thank you for the strength to go on.”

“I do what I can,” She steps closer, gauging his reaction, “And yet? No one can quite replace you, as I’m finding. I was wanting to be back sooner than this -- letters are just not the same. Surely you understand?”

“As much as you love to write them.” He responds, surely referring to her inability to write the shorter reports than the others of the Inquisition are capable of. She likes to go on and on and doesn’t even realize it until she’s run out of parchment paper. Usually she only has enough room to squeeze in her own name at the bottom of the page in the loopiest handwriting.

“You read them?” She asks, surprised, and maybe a tad embarassed now -- considering they aren’t always the most academic. She would’ve thought they’d go directly to Leliana, considering just how much sneaking around they’ve done as of late, “I thought you were only getting the shorter ones.”

“The ones you send to me directly?” He smiles to himself, “Yes, I read those as well.”

An arm snakes around her waist, careful, tentative as she goes on, gently leaning into the touch and placing her hands on his chestplate, “You know it’s almost been a year, Cullen. Since all of this started, and now we’re here. Could you have imagined we got all of this done in such a short time?”

“It has been an experience, yes. Demons, Venatori, among other things. I don’t believe my past experiences would’ve prepared me exactly for that.” He responds, only slightly flinching when she leans her head against his chest.

“You’re telling me there wasn’t anything on what to do if demons started falling out the sky in the Templar instruction book?” She’s got such a stupid grin on her face again, but he chuckles anyway at her joke, “I’m surprised, they really didn’t teach you enough to be effective.”

“I don’t believe such a manual exists, but should you wish it, I’ll write one and distribute it to our Templar allies,” And now she’s chuckling herself, as halfway serious as he sounds.

Oh why does she care for him so? A mage and a Templar, for Creators’ sake.

The humans’ Maker is probably throwing some sort of fit right now, wherever up in the sky He is.

“I’m serious though, Cullen. It seems like just yesterday Cassandra was content to yank me out of the chantry’s dungeon to force me to answer for the Divine’s death,” That was one downside to the mostly...interesting memories, “And here we are, such an international power that we’re being invited to make an appearance at the Winter Palace.”

“Believe me, I am aware,” He muses, “You’re a very capable leader, Lavellan.”

“I didn’t do half of this -- you know the Inquisition would simply fall apart if any of you just walked away,” She rolls her eyes, sighing, “I just close the rifts with the glowing hand, not much else.”

He’s quiet for a moment, “You act as if this isn’t a result of your determination to save the world. It is. I would say you’re doing an admirable job.”

She highly doubts she would get the same flood of affection with anyone else, or that anyone else’s compliment would feel nearly as genuine as his does.

“Thank you, Cullen. We made it to Kingsway, I can’t say anything else about the rest of the year though. That’s decidedly still up in the air.”

Marzeyna feels distinctly...tingly. The good kind, like just before her magic would flare again during a fight, except the fight or flight response doesn’t accompany it. She’s just undeniably happy, and if anything arcane flickers under her fingertips, she doesn’t notice. Her ears are twitching though, probably moreso than usual when he presses a tentative kiss to her forehead.

It was much too pretty a day out, but she was content to rest her for just a moment, letting the world continue on.

The wind gusts around them again, and she shivers, audibly chilled by the cold and trying to press herself further into his embrace, the fur of his mantle tickling her cheek, “It’s much too cold out here.” Marzeyna barely keeps the whine out of her voice, she wasn’t a child, but she also didn’t feel as if she had to hide the fact she was having no fun dealing with the change in seasons from him either.

“Would you like to go inside then? You...could come and sit for while, there isn’t much work to be done this evening.” He offers.

“I...would like that. As long as you don’t want me reading any reports,” She makes a face, “I would be happy to spend the evening in your presence.”

#marzeyna lavellan #cullen rutherford #cullavellan #oc #original character #dai fanfiction #marzeyna/cullen

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stretchjournalemerson · 4 years

Text

Must I Suffer To Do What I Love?: An Exploration of the Tortured Artist

By Graysen Winchester

My mom always told me that depression is like diabetes. It’s lifelong, manageable with proper care, and something you are born with. A few weeks ago, as I laid my head on the toilet, dry heaving any last ounce of self respect into an empty bowl, I wished that I was born with diabetes. I hadn’t eaten a real meal in days and the thought of food made me nauseous. I had just gone to the gym, a mistake. Trying to take proper care of myself was becoming impossible. And yet, I wasn’t sick with anything. I was just sad. The type of sad that infiltrates every aspect of yourself until you cannot see past it. The type of sad that turns your body against you until you cannot even sleep. You cannot even dream of a time where you didn’t feel like this.

Ever since I was capable of writing, I have kept a journal. You can find all of these journals in the top left cubby of my bookshelf. This cubby houses all of my secrets. If you open the notebook with the cover of yellow and blue watercolor flowers, you will find a collection of short stories that I wrote when I was around eleven years old. I know that I was eleven because I wrote the letter “a” in a very specific way when I was that age, the way that Malia used to write them, so I did too. The stories are all thinly veiled portrayals of my life, the main character always having two brothers and two parents going through a divorce, though their names were always changed. One of the first sentences in this notebook is, “She wasn’t sure why she was so sad, but she was.”

When we don’t have answers, sometimes we create them ourselves. I don’t know why I have depression, but I don’t want to be cursed with something for no reason. I don’t want to be held back by this affliction that I did not ask for. I don’t want to see the world as meaningless. I don’t want to be weak. So, for many years, I decided that I am sad because I will someday become a great artist. I assume that is why I wrote such sad stories when I was eleven. I needed some place to put my pain and have it be worth something. When my art was not dripping in melancholy and cynicism, I thought that it was pointless.

As I have grown older, I have come to question this notion of the tortured artist. Must I suffer to do what I love? Is this a glorification of something that is truly void of benefit? I know that I am not the first person to ask this question, nor will I be the last. I am not the best of artists, nor the worst of sufferers. There have been many great artists before me that have suffered a great deal from mental illness. You may be thinking of Vincent van Gogh and his severed ear, and we will get to that later. Indeed, the stereotype has its backing. But is there truly a connection between creativity and mental illness? Does all genius come from pain?

When I began to look into this world of madness and art, I found an article that I thought would be perfect, underlining the exact phenomenon that I was interested in. This article was Maureen Neihart’s "Creativity, the arts, and madness". However, as with most research into the subject matter, Neihart takes loose correlations, ancient knowledge, and anecdotes to produce conclusions that seem indisputable. She quotes the philosophical greats, saying, “Plato said that creativity is a "divine madness...a gift from the gods."” No one wants to dispute Plato, so you read on, eating it up. Then, she throws in Shakespeare, Freud, and a variety of scientific studies that have found correlations between creativity and mental illness.

After my initial reading, I was convinced that creativity and madness were mutually inclusive. Upon a second reading, I realized that it has a very shallow evidence base. The studies that are referenced are very dated. Neihart is a clinical psychologist. The article is written for educators and counselors, cautioning them to have patience with highly creative children. It is not written for the academic researcher or anyone that is interested in questioning the basis of this correlation. Yet, it is a source that richly documents the prevalence of the notion of the mad artist. However problematic the studies or logic may be, they document the intense and lasting curiosity that society has had within this area of study.

One of Neihart’s major missteps in constructing a connection between madness and creativity is the same misstep that many face when trying to find a link between the two. This misstep is lack of specificity. In her article, Neihart states that, “Creativity is defined as the production of something both new and valued. Madness is defined as self destructive deviant behavior.” These definitions are incredibly vague. Joscelyn E. Fisher, a Research Assistant Professor in the Department of Psychiatry at the Uniformed Services University, discusses this misstep in her article "Challenges in determining whether creativity and mental illness are associated." In the article, she points out that “creativity” is a broad concept containing multiple facets. Mental illness is also not a singular concept, with many symptoms, diagnoses, and diagnostic criteria. Fischer proposes that in order for a scientifically sound connection to be made, there must be much more specific, systematic, and thorough studies being done. Even then, because of the complexity of both factors, the statistical relationship is likely not going to be linear.

Countless studies in this area have failed in this way and with other flaws in methodology. While many studies have been done, none have provided conclusive evidence to prove the link (Green). At this point in my research, I began to feel as if the case was closed. There is no evidence to provide a link, so a link is nonexistent. And trying to prove this link might just be glamorizing an illness that so often leads to suicides, broken families, and insane amounts of loss. On the other hand, there is so much that is true that does not have scientific evidence to back it. There may not be sufficient statistical correlations, but there are human beings that have lived and breathed the narrative. These human beings have stories to tell that should not be ignored. There may not be a chart proving why, but there are many masterpieces in the world that have been born from darkest corners of the mind.

Sylvia Plath is one of the most notably mentally ill artists, an American poet who was hypothesized to have manic depression ("Sylvia Plath"). In 1963, she committed suicide at age 31("Sylvia Plath"). This was not her first suicide attempt, and many of her literary works focus on her fascination with death and her unbending cynism. When reading her poetry, I felt an eerie sense of identification with many of her poems. Her poem, “Never Try To Trick Me With A Kiss” spoke to a sense of hopelessness that I had never put words to.

Sooner or later something goes amiss;

The singing birds pack up and fly away;

So never try to trick me with a kiss:

The dying man will scoff and scorn at this. (Plath 16-19)

To me, this last stanza is the essence of depression, an acceptance of misery and a firm belief in the temporality of pleasure. To create a piece of art that is so representative of this experience is a kind of genius. These words feel like an echo in my mind. They haunt me and yet they make me feel less alone. That is the mark of great art, when you can reach into your own mind and cause someone else to reach inside their own. There is no doubt that Plath was tortured, and that she was a remarkable artist. Her pain drove her work, but it also drove her to take her own life.

In biographer Jeffrey Meyers’ article, “Pursued by Demons: Creativity and Suicide”, he explores the lives of four artists that have taken their own lives: Jules Pascin, Arshile Gorky, Nicolas de Staël and Mark Rothko. He draws the conclusion that these artists “committed suicide not only to escape from pain but also to make a deliberate sacrifice for art.” Meyers investigates the tragic lives of each of these artists and speculates into what made them commit suicide. Each of the artists experienced a sense of alienation from society and held the belief that mental illness was a value to their art. This belief was confirmed by the culture that they lived in. Each of their artistic successes accelerated after their deaths. One of Rothko’s pictures has sold for $186 million, de Staël’s for $10 million, Gorky’s for $4.2 million, and Pascin’s for hundreds of thousands. The same is true for Plath, her success post-mortem was far greater than when she was living (“Sylvia Plath”).

This article offers a fascinating case study of four artists and how their relationship to their mental illness destroyed them. The Romantic view of the sacrificial artist in combination with the emergence of Existentialism bred a mindset within the artists that their mental illness is what fueled their art, and this is a belief held by consumers and producers of art alike. Meyers uses biography to demonstrate how popular culture and one’s own background can play a large role in how their mental illness manifests. If it is encouraged by others and believed to fuel their art, it is much more likely that the artist will harbor an unhealthy obsession with their own suffering. Even Meyers plays into this belief that their poor mental health contributed to their greatness. He writes, “If they had not been mentally ill, they could not have painted with such intensity and brilliance.” But did these artists create because of their illness or in spite of it?

Vincent van Gogh was yet another artist that was hypothesized to have mental illness, committed suicide, and became infintely more sucessful after his death ("Vincent van Gogh"). His artwork is hugely influential and recognizable to even those who know little of art history. His unique expressive brush strokes gave his paintings a dynamic vibrance. Throughout his life, van Gogh wrote many letters. These letters have been collected and published online by the Van Gogh Museum. These letters give great insight into the artist’s personal life. In letter 772 out of the 902 documented letters, van Gogh writes to his brother Theo. The two were extremely close, and Theo was very supportive of his brother’s artistic pursuits ("Vincent van Gogh"). In this letter, Vincent writes from the asylum of Saint-Paul-de-Mausole after he had cut off his own ear in a manic episode. He tells his brother how he is doing much better, and that he is no longer afraid of madness. When referring to his art, he writes, “The idea of my duty to work comes back to me a lot, and I believe that all my faculties for work will come back to me quite quickly. It’s just that work often absorbs me so much that I think I’ll always be absent-minded and awkward in getting by for the rest of life too.” (To Theo van Gogh and Jo van Gogh-Bonger. Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, Thursday, 9 May 1889). When he is finally calm and in treatment for his mania, van Gogh has a renewed ability to create. He paints the flowers in the garden. I think that a lot can be learned from this short reflection. In states of mental illness, creativity is not heightend but stifled. Artists create better when they are well. However, artistic pursuits can be consuming, and this could be what drives the artist to madness. Creation is an incredibly challenging quest.

In fact, maybe it isn’t madness that creates great art, but the label of “artist” that creates mental instability. Jérémy Sinigaglia, a political scientist with a focus in the sociology of artistic employment, would likely think so. In his article, "Happiness as a Reward for Artistic Work", he examines a field study done in Alsace and Lorraine in France where performing artists in this region were asked about the happiness resulting from their profession. Artistic occupations elicit some envy, as they are often considered the escape from monotonous labor. Therefore, artists are expected to be happy in their professions despite job insecurity. This article challenges this view, based on the responses gathered from performers in France. The first is that artists must have realistic expectations of what they can actually achieve. Sinigaglia writes, “even a limited awareness of the objective chances of success appears to reduce the psychological cost of failure.” Secondly, poor employment conditions make it a necessity for artists to find fulfillment in areas other than their professional life. Third, artists often feel as if they cannot express displeasure at their profession, since many others have it worse. Being unsatisfied in a creative field can seem like a betrayal to the basis of being an artist, since artistic work is supposed to be a liberation.

While this study may be specific to France in some ways, I feel that it can be helpful in digging into the mind of the artist. Choosing art as a career is a jump into uncertainty. This article provides evidence that perhaps creative professions can breed unhappiness. With constant job insecurity, fear of failure, and feelings that their dissatisfaction is not legitimate, perhaps the artist could become troubled due to the pressures that come along with the job and their place in society.

The question of the tortured artist is not a simple one, yet any good question rarely has a simple answer. Through my research, I have not found whether or not genius comes from pain, though I know that great art has been created from great sadness, and art as a whole should not shy from this vital human emotion. By living a life frequently dominated by sadness, it has given me a unique perspective of the world. But sadness is not a goal, just something that we live through and learn from. It is not a commodity, making art more valuable because of it. Sadness and art are undoubtedly intertwined. Art is a career that means uncertainty and unpredictability. Creation is extremely difficult. But mental illness is not genius. It is a disease that cuts lives short. It is ugly, not glamorous.

Artists should have a healthy relationship to their work and their mental illness. Not every artist is mentally ill, but those who are should learn to use art as a way to reshape their pain and share their experience, not fetishize hopelessness. We must find a balance between de-stigmatization and romanticization of mental illness and restructure the way that we see art and the people that create it. At the end of this research journey, I have learned to look at my own mental illness in a new way. It is not void of value and it does not make me weak. It is part of me and it is part of many people that I love. It is not responsible for my artistic success, but my art helps me see the nuances of it and of the human experience as a whole. I have depression, but I am not depression. I am an artist. When I create, I do so to heal myself and find connection. That should be the aim of creation, not a contest of who suffers most.

Works Cited

Fisher, Joscelyn E. "Challenges in determining whether creativity and mental illness are

associated." Frontiers in Psychology, vol. 6, 20 Feb. 2015,

doi:10.3389/fpsyg.2015.00163.

Green, Sarah, writer. The Myth of the Tortured Artist. Directed by Mark Olsen, PBS Digital

Studios.

Meyers, Jeffrey. "Pursued by Demons: Creativity and Suicide." American Imago, vol. 73, no. 1,

2016. Project Muse, doi:10.1353/aim.2016.0005.

Naar, Hichem. "Art and Emotion." Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy.

Neihart, Maureen. "Creativity, the arts, and madness." Roeper Review, vol. 21, Sept. 1998.

Davidson Gifted Database.

Plath, Sylvia. “Never Try To Trick Me With A Kiss.” The Collected Poems, HarperCollins

Publishers, 1981, pp. 319.

Sinigaglia, Jérémy. "Happiness as a Reward for Artistic Work." Sociétés Contemporaines, vol.

91, doi:10.3917/soco.091.0017.

"Sylvia Plath." Poetry Foundation, edited by Michael Slosek, Poetry Foundation.

"To Theo van Gogh and Jo van Gogh-Bonger. Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, Thursday, 9 May 1889."

Vincent van Gogh The Letters, Van Gogh Museum.

"Vincent van Gogh." Encyclopædia Britannica, 2020.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my mom for all she does for me and my growth as a human and as an artist. I would also like to thank Iris Michelson for help in revision. And finally, I would like to thank my professor, Mary Kovaleski Byrnes for her patience and kindness. From her, I have learned so much about the craft of writing and the passion for curiosity.

#stretch2020 #stretchjournal #researchessay #researchpaper

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bloodthirstymoonstone · 5 years

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Square One (ooc ramble)

So I thought I’d make a quick post talking about my continued journey into getting my Spicy Mental Health™ treated and how all that’s going. TLDR, I may have isolated the problem as to my noticeable decline with attention span over the past year or year and a half, but the good thing is that there’s probably a very easy way to fix it! Which is definitely good to know!

It gets pretty long winded and vent-y, too, though, so be warned. This is just a Real Ass Scoot Moment With Scoot Being Real, so keep that in mind.

So here’s a realization I made quite recently about my medication. For the longest time (I’m talking nearly 10 years or so) I assumed I didn’t have ADD, I just had anxiety and depression which was mimicking those symptoms. I believed this strongly, and for years despite getting legitimately diagnosed back in middle school (I think I was 13), before my anxiety diagnosis when I was 16. I think this is due in part to a REALLY BAD reaction to the drug Ritalin, which is notorious for making you feel like you’ve drank 10 coffees all at once. I honestly think that experience traumatized me so badly I truly thought I just didn’t have ADD at all.

I also probably believed this, in part, due to the anxiety medication I was on later, which did a great deal more to helping my condition. I won’t say which ones I was on because that would be TMI, but when I moved to Boston in 2016, I was on three different medications to treat my anxiety and depression. One was ancient and I’d been on it since I was first diagnosed back in 2009. One that was prescribed later when my Rock Bottom™ years started (I’m guessing 2011-2012). And then one I got at the tail end of my Rock Bottom™ years, in March of 2014. That last one might have been the one that Defeated The Evil and go the monkey of rampant, unchecked depression off my back for good, as well as a few key lifestyle changes.

Sometime when I moved here, I got a psychiatrist that, in retrospect, was fucking terrible for me. She barely listened to me at all, would shut me down when I came up with solutions she didn’t like, and ultimately discouraged me so much that I stopped doing anything more than going to her to get refills, and totally stopped going to therapy all together. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about my problems anymore, including her, because it was just so discouraging going to her about anything that she tainted the whole process for me. She shamed me for my weight, for not being social and making friends in a city and a part of the country I was totally unfamiliar with, and just never ever seemed to listen to me.

The most egregious case of this is when she fucked with my medication. Remember that list I just gave on the three types of meds I was on when I moved up here? Yeah, now I’m just on the last one. She took me off of the first two in 2016 (I think? Maybe it was 2017 -- my memory is shit), completely against my wishes, and she went totally cold turkey with it, too. I went to her, telling her that I ran out of those two maybe 10 days or so ago and though I wasn’t experiencing any withdrawal symptoms yet, but I’d really like to get back on the combination that had already taken me so far, and she literally refused. Saying “Oh, well, you’ve been off them both for so long already, so let’s see how it goes. I really don’t think you need to be on that much.”

It struck me as weird and panic inducing, even then, but she was adamant about it, saying that she didn’t want to risk me getting Serotonin Syndrome from taking so much medication for depression at once. Which, alright, fair enough, but she didn’t even try to ween me off of them. She just cut me off. But I trusted her judgement as a professional and certainly didn’t want to get sick or even die from taking too much medication, so I listened to her. And I never had a huge, unprompted depressive episode, so hey, maybe things were alright!

There’s a catch though. The second drug I was introduced to, approximately in 2011? Remember that? Yeah, guess what. I did my own research recently and came to find out that it’s also been known to aid significantly in patients that have ADD but don’t want to be put on stimulants like Ritalin. Because if you have anxiety as well as ADD, it makes you painfully aware of that racing heart sensation. For the past 2+ years, I’ve felt my attention span slipping in ways I couldn’t understand or control, all because someone who didn’t really know me (remember, I’d only moved to this region a few short months before I even saw her) decided to play God with my life and not listen to my totally justifiable fears.

I feel like all that time, all those abandoned threads and plot ideas, all the shit that I blamed myself for because I just couldn’t understand why it was so hard to pay attention suddenly!!! Is all her fault. I listened to everything she told me to do and then got so conditioned to never questioning her or talking to her about my problems anymore, that I didn’t even raise the difficulties I was having that were adversely affecting my life for what seemed at the time to be no reason at all. I feel cheated and angry. I might have cried a little bit when I realized it.

The good news in this is that, 1) I don’t have her as a psychiatrist anymore THANK GOD. Last I heard, I think she was leaving the practice (probably because she was treating other patients as terribly as she was treating me), but she’s definitely no longer with the business I frequent. I’ve only met with my new psychiatrist once, and he already seems so much more kind than her, and I’m grateful for him. And 2) getting back on the medication that I was yanked off of should be an easy enough process. I really just have to talk to my new guy and tell him what I want. I’m not interested in going back on the first, because afaik, it wasn’t doing much for me anyways, and maybe serotonin syndrome actually is a problem I should be worried about taking all three at once. But at least I’ll have the two that helped get me through Job Corps and the most stressful move of my life helping me out again.

More than that, I’ve started going to therapy again, and that’s a huge relief as well. I miss my old therapist, but she seems to have moved to another office of the same company that’s slightly further away, but I love the new woman I go to see. She’s so friendly and easy to talk to, and she’s also from out of town, so we get to crack jokes about New England Drivers™, which is always fun, lol. More than that, she’s helped me see that there are good qualities to me instead of All The Things I Want To Fix, like my creativity, sense of humor, and passion for caring about and defending my friends and those I care deeply about.

If we’re being honest, when I look back at these past years, it still kind of hurts. I can see quite clearly the break where my dwindling attention span started impacting my life and my presence in the RP community (technically it happened before I went indie, which means you guys have been dealing with 2 Braincell Scoot this whole time... My deepest apologies), and how it just kept getting worse and how frustrated I was with myself and things I couldn’t change about it.

But that’s also the good thing about all this. I can and will get better, hopefully sooner rather than later, and I hope you guys will be around to reap the benefits. I love you guys, and hopefully I’ll be able to get to some replies soon! Either on this blog or any of the three others.

#long post #ooc #ramblings #tw: medication #lmk if it needs any other tags idk #tw: vent

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wesknox · 6 years

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☒ FACTS ABOUT W E S

FULL NAME: Wesley Ronald Knox

NICKNAMES: Wes, Weslington, Weasel, Wessy

BIRTHPLACE: Brighton and Hove, East Sussex

BIRTH DATE: 28th of December 2001

CURRENT AGE: 16

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Homosexual

EYE COLOR: Blue

HAIR COLOR: Blonde

BODY MODIFICATIONS: Piercing on the left bottom lip

HEIGHT: 6 ft 2 (190 cm)

WEIGHT: 179 pounds (81 kg)

RELIGION: Christian-Catholic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single

✔ L I K E S

Junk food, rock/indie/alternative music, poems, Charles Dickens’ books, Netflix, getting lost on the wrong side of Youtube, Brandon Urie’s voice, karaoke bars, midnight talks with Kyle, Edgar Allen Poe, going for late walks with Hamlet, gay bars/clubs, Maya Angelou, playing the guitar and chewing gum.

✘ D I S L I K E S

Bad grammar, homophobes, when his mum doesn’t have time for him, ignorance, pineable on pizza, any kind of sport, Mr. Creevey, shopping with Ronnie, maths, people interrupting him and people talking shit about people he cares about.

▲ T R A I T S

☼ GOOD: Reliable, charismatic, loyal, communicative and generous.

☢ BAD: Lazy, forgetful, dreamy, persistent, chaotic, stubborn, unstable and insecure.

☒ B A C K S T O R Y

- Wes’ mother works as a nurse and works basically ALL the time, that’s why she sent Wes to Clifton, she hated leaving him alone for days in a row. His mother is the most loving, generous and kind-hearted person you’ll ever meet. Wes admires her a lot for the things she does on a daily, working her ass off to help others. Although he doesn’t get to see her often, his mother is his rock. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen her without dark bags under her eyes, messy hair and scrub but she seems to be happy, so he is happy for her. His mum got him at a young age, so she’s a young mum and definitely proud of her “sunshine”. Her choice of men hasn’t been so lucky in the past; men coming and going and Wes always there to pick up the pieces.

- Wes grew up without a father. His dad left him and his mother for another family when Wes was only a two years old. He doesn’t have any memories of him other than the birthday and Christmas cards he’s sending every year. Wes hates his father, every mention of him but easily sees a dad figure in every male adult or person of authority like teachers or doctors. A therapist would call it “daddy issues”.

- Wes also does have three paternal half sisters but he’s never seen or talked to any of them; just knows about the mere existence. He’s never been curious to find out more about them and since ignoring his father’s cards worked so far, he wants to keep it that way.

- Wes found his love for poetry and pretty words at a pretty early age. His kindergartener always read poems before afternoon nap and little Wes was so fascinated by the words being used, he begged his mum to get him all kind of kids editions of famous poem collections. She never understood it, she herself never having anything to do with poetry at all, but she accepted it. Not like she had much of choice when your five year old begs you for books. When Wes got older, he started writing some himself, his English teacher encouraging and challenging him. He liked Wes and Wes liked him. He saw only good in Wes, predicting a great future but unfortunately his mum never got to hear any of the good feedback he had on her son.

- He met his best friend, Kyle, in primary school and have been best friends ever since. Kyle is one of the most important people in Wes’ life, if not the most important. He can always count on him, no matter the time, no matter the circumstance. Kyle is Wes’ personal protector and never let anyone being mean to Wes slide. When the both of them started high school at Clifton, Ronnie came to the mix and the three have been inseperable since. Ronnie was exactly what he wished for Kyle; she was absolutely perfect for him.

- When Wes was thirteen he began struggling with his self-esteem. He thought he was too pale, too scrawny, too tall and his forming acne didn’t help the case either. He started showing symptoms of a mild depression, locking himself in his room unless it was Kyle who wanted to see him. His mum blamed herself and her constant absence and immediately sent him off to multiple therapy sessions, all of which didn’t help a whole lot. He hated it.

- A year later, he realized he was gay. You could say, he always kind of knew that something was different, if his crush on Harry Potter was anything to go by, but at the age fourteen he admitted to himself after pining after Joey Carpenter for the longest time and jerking off to his school picture that he, in fact, liked dick and dick only. Later that summer, him and Joey Carpenter’s best friend started dating. The irony, huh. Although secretly, but Wes did believe he was in love back in the day and he would’ve done anything for Tim, that was his name. It was his first and only boyfriend, his first gay experience so more than handjobs and blowjob was not in it. They dated for three months but sooner or later, Wes found flithy texts to another boy on Tim’s phone. Not long after that, they broke up.

- At 15, Wes had his first time with a guy named Blake. Blake was older, hot and experienced. He met Blake at Why Not?, a gay bar in Bristol. Wes was immediately attracted to him, absolutely drawn to the authority the older radiated. Him and Blake went on a date or two until Wes let Blake fuck him. It hurt, but it was hot and Wes was happy he finally got it over with. How things go, the both of them ended things rather quickly after that and Wes started to get around. Thanks to his fake ID it was possible for him to lie about his age and sleep with guys older than he was at the time.

- Wes wanted a piercing. Not just any piercing but a lip piercing and he wanted it bad. Wes wasn’t old enough to get it done by himself, so when he asked his mother for approval, it was a no brainer. “Are you sure?” is all she asked and when Wes nodded enthusiastically, she signed the papers without second-guessing a thing. The next day, him and Kyle went to get pierced together.

- When it got out at school that Wes Knox was gay, most people took it well and were very accepting of the news while some people gave him disapproving looks. Especially a group of jocks made it their mission to make Wes’ life extraordinarily hard. Steven Dally, the leader of the pack definitely had it out for Wes and always had a stupid, homophobic remark on his tongue when he saw Wes. It was childish, and truly, Wes tried not to take it to heart, not the way Kyle did anyway. It wasn’t until he gave Steven Dally a blowjob in the showers after PE that the bullying got out of hand. Wes figured it was his way of dealing with regret or fear, but he ignored it for as long as he could until one afternoon Steven and his friends beat him up until he was spitting blood and his nose was broken.

- Wes was seeking revenge. Something in his mind wanted to see Steven hurt in a way humanly unimaginable and it went further than seeing Kyle punch Steven in the face and him being expelled the next day. No, it had to go way deeper than that. On a way more emotional basis. So he set up a profile of a girl named Nicole Jennings. Nicole was pretty, young, independent and absolutely irressistable. Every guy’s wet dream. What started out as a plan to get back at Steven Dally, turned into something way more... fun.

- It was a good laugh. Kyle and him laughing at the sexual frustrated guys that were more than willing to share all kind of pictures with Nicole, but soon their nightly rituals of laughing at other people’s expense lost its charm to Kyle and he told Wes to delete Nicole’s profile. But Wes didn’t do as told and started to find a liking in being Nicole, in being someone else -- no, he took things even further. He was insecure and as Nicole, he had all the guys wrapped around his little finger. He sexted, broke hearts without even a blink of his eye or showing any kind of remorse. It didn’t matter to him, because he was being someone else. He didn’t have to face any sort of consequences.

- It wasn’t until he found Jake Seringway on Facebook. Jake being recommended as “people you may also know” and while Wes would’ve definitely remembered a face like Jake’s, he looked at his profile anyway and looked through the things Jake Seringway liked, what kind of photos he posted, what kind of people he hung out with and what schools he went to. Although Jake didn’t seem like the guy to accept a stranger’s friend request, Wes, disguised as beautiful Nicole Jennings, tried his luck anyway - and a few hours later, Jake accepted it.

- What Wes knows now, Jake was different from the start. He wasn’t needy or frustrated, he was full of life and honest interest. While Wes texted with other guys beside Jake, Jake was his favourite person to talk to, the person he would always drop everything for in order to answer his texts. He stayed up long nights in order to talk to Jake, to hear how his day was and what his dreams and aspirations are. Wes himself revealed so much of himself, something he didn’t do before, but it was so easy with Jake and he wanted him to know. Sooner or later, Jake was all Wes thought about. During class, they would text each other and Wes got in so much trouble for texting (damn Mr. Creevey), but he didn’t care and before he knew it, he was falling. Hard and undeniably. All the other boys were irrelevant and all that mattered was JakeJakeJake. After months of texting they agreed to be a couple, Wes always finding an excuse as to why they can’t meet up. Although there was this big, massive lie in between them, Wes was happy and for the first time in his life, truly in love.

- Jake transfered to Clifton when Wes was in year 9 and to say it was a shock, would be the understatement of the year. Jake was even more beautiful in real life; muscular with long legs, a nice butt and that smile had Wes weak in the knees. Wes would’ve loved to snog him right then and there and just blurt out the whole truth, that hey, it’s me, I’m Nicole. I’m your girlfriend. Wes wanted to end it as soon as he saw Jake for the first time. Suddenly everything got so real, too real and it dawned on Wes what the hell he was actually doing, playing someone so dirty. One time he ran into Jake and talked to him for the first time as Wes and Wes was a stuttering mess but Jake was so kind and so nice and so straight and Wes wanked that night until he started to cry.

- The day he told Jake, was the worst of his life so far. He hated himself -- he was downright disgusted with himself. How could he ever look into Jake’s eyes again or anyone’s for that matter after what he did? He deserved the black eye he was sporting for two weeks and even more than that. He faked being sick for a week until Grimmy found out and forced him back to classes. Wes underwent heartbreak for the first time in his life.

- When Jake and him started to be something like friends, he couldn’t believe his luck. Couldn’t believe this was happening after all he’s done, but he figured it was typical and so Jake because Jake was kind, nice and all the things Wes wasn’t - not after what he did.

- Wes hasn’t slept with anyone since going out with Jake as Nicole. Even now, while the both of them are still friends, Wes can’t bring himself to go see someone else, even if it’s just sex. Not when everything seems like Jake might give him a chance. Not when Jake kisses him and acts like it didn’t happen the next two weeks. Not when Jake is still the main inspiration in his poetry.

- Wes usually chills in his room, listening You Me At Six or pines over Brendon Urie’s jawline. The latter he would easily deny. He works on his poems and tries not to make any enemies or stand out, which to be fair is going along quite smoothly since him, Kyle and Ronnie do not quite fit the popular type. People would probably refer to the trio as misfits and none of them seem to mind. Kyle with his colourful hair that change every month, Ronnie with her idiotic yet adorable bowties and Wes.. being, well, Wes.

- After Clifton, Wes wants to study Creative Writing at NYU. He’s always had this straight fascination with New York and it’s always been his dream to someday move and live there. While he’s going to miss his mum, he believes she won’t be sad for too long, her first love always being her job. He wants to be a writer and inspire people with his words, just like Edgar Allen Poe, Charles Dickens or Maya Angelou did.

#about #wow #i'm sorry

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greysfanpage388 · 6 years

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Hyperemesis Gravidarum

Hey guys- at long last- here is my latest fic, which is the prequel to ‘ Óur Little Princess. ‘ This fic is set in a future timeline, when Omelia have found their way back to each other after their breakup on the show.

I’m sorry for taking so long for this update - real life got in the way- with a conference, work and a knee injury.

This fic is dedicated to @toevenexist who requested for this. :D <3

Special thanks goes out to @jia911 for faithfully setting aside time to help me proofread- you’re really the best!! <3 <3

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!! <3

The sequel,’Óur Little Princess ‘ can be read here:

http://ailingnoor.tumblr.com/post/166784792136/our-little-princess

P.s : I’ve implemented a little of the Obstetrics knowledge I gained during medical school, internship and early residency into this fic ;)

P.p.s I’ve decided to write in first person again after a long time, as I feel like it gives us more insight into what Amelia is experiencing.

Amelia’s POV

Hyperemesis gravidarum. The medical term for an extreme form of morning sickness, characterized by persistent nausea and vomiting, and associated with poor weight gain. This condition may cause dehydration, electrolyte and acid-base imbalances, nutritional deficiencies and in some extreme cases- death. Severe cases require hospital admission. Statistics show that this condition affects 0.3 -2% of pregnant women, but of course, those are just statistics.

This condition affects women from all walks of life. It doesn’t discriminate. Even Catherine, the Duchess of Cambridge suffered from this condition for all 3 of her pregnancies. One of the attendings I previously worked with at the John Hopkins Hospital also suffered from that condition and she couldn’t work for the entire first trimester of her pregnancy. I can really empathize with them because I’m currently suffering from the same condition too.

It’s not a fun thing to suffer from, let me tell you. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. You can barely keep anything down, you throw up almost every single thing you eat. The only thing you can tolerate eating is saltine crackers.

The morning sickness started in full force since I was 5 weeks pregnant. I threw up almost everything I ate- day and night. Actually, to call it morning sickness isn’t accurate at all. It should be called whole day sickness.

Initially - I thought it was a very bad case of food poisoning when I started throwing up the entire day. I had eaten the cafeteria food after all and it was known to cause food poisoning occasionally. Furthermore, I was babysitting my nieces and nephew who were also ill with a stomach bug a couple of days earlier. I carried on with my work. However, when the symptoms persisted and I realized that I was 2 weeks late- I knew that it was something more than food poisoning. My heart pounding fast, I had bought a couple of pregnancy tests from the pharmacy and took the tests alone in the bathroom at home. I decided to do it myself this time without Owen next to me, as I did not want to disappoint him again should the test turn out negative. We did agree to try again for a baby a couple of months ago. After I had my tumor removed, we both decided to ‘break-up ‘and start anew. It was like a reset button, a brand new start in our relationship. We started dating each other again and learning new things about each other daily. Every new thing I learned about Owen attracted me even more to him, such as when he told me how he would let Megan tag along with him on his outings with friends and even on his dates. It reminded me of my relationship with Derek, and how I would tag along with him for his dates with Addison.

When both tests turned out positive- I had a mixture of feelings. On one hand- I was overjoyed that I was finally starting a family with Owen. I knew that Owen would be in seventh heaven- it had always been his dream to have a family. On the other hand, there was still this nagging feeling at the back of my mind- what if this baby of ours turned out to be anencephalic as well? What if I can only produce anencephalic babies? Would Owen still love me and the baby? However, now that the tumor had been removed from my brain, I had the ability to think and act rationally. If before, my first instinct would be to run away from all my issues, now I knew I had to face it like an adult. I knew that the chance of me having another anencephalic baby is low- less than 5%, and I knew that Owen would be there to support me regardless.

As expected, Owen was over the moon with the news. His grin when I told him was as wide as a Cheshire cat, and he hugged me a little too tightly, spinning me around. I had to remind him not to tell anyone in the hospital yet until I was further along, at least until my first trimester was over. I knew that if it was up to him, he would be announcing it to the entire hospital, and I didn’t want that.

He started mommy tracking me almost immediately, making sure I downed my breakfast of crackers and oats as It was the only breakfast I could tolerate. He made sure I stayed hydrated. He would make chicken soup for me in the evenings, as it was the only main dish I could tolerate.

When I rushed to the bathroom to throw up, especially in the mornings, he would immediately run to my side, hold my hair up and gently pat my back as I emptied my entire guts contents out.

He had also started calling the baby Bean and had already started talking to the baby. When I told him that Bean was only the size of a bean, and couldn't hear him as their ears weren't fully developed yet, he would claim that he knew Bean could hear him.

It did feel a little weird at first, Owen talking to the baby. During my first pregnancy, Ryan wasn’t there to take care of me or speak to my belly. This was all new to me, but I guess I could get used to this.

_______________________________________________________________

Today has been especially rough. I've jolted out of bed to puke in the toilet several times since 5 am this morning.

I am now hunched over the toilet bowl, dry retching. I have emptied my entire guts contents out and now there’s nothing left to throw up anymore.

Owen is patting my back gently as he holds my hair up like he does when I throw up every morning.

I groan and sink onto the cold bathroom floor. I just don’t have the energy to get up.

Owen flushes the toilet and helps me get up, leading me to the sink where I rinse my mouth. It has been our daily routine every morning for the past few weeks.

He then slowly leads me back towards our bed. I gratefully lie back down on the bed, which seems so welcoming at the moment.

‘You sure you don’t want to call in sick today? ‘Owen asks, a concerned tone in his voice as he soothingly rubs my arm and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I have been throwing up every day for the past few weeks, but never so many times in such a short interval.

‘ No! I’m fine, I’ll be. I’ll take the saltine crackers and some oat later. I’m used to this already. I can’t just call in sick every single day if this continues. ‘ I point out. ‘Besides, I have 5 surgeries scheduled for today and several patients I'm supposed to discharge today.’

Owen knows that when I use that tone of voice- there is no arguing with me. He had tried before- last week, he called Bailey to inform her that I wasn’t going down to work, without consulting me beforehand. I got so mad that I drove my own car to the hospital. The look on his face when I appeared in the ER with scrubs after April paged me was priceless.

‘Amelia, no offense but you do not look good at all. You look really pale. Are you sure you can handle a whole day of work? ‘Owen asks again, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

I know Owen means no harm and is just genuinely concerned for me, but something, I guess my pregnancy hormones, is making my blood boil. He’s not the one experiencing this horrible thing, why does he think he has the right to tell me when to go to work?

‘I’m fine, Owen.’ I say stubbornly as I get up of bed, throw the duvet playfully at him and head to the bathroom to shower.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Owen shaking his head in defeat.

_______________________________________________________________

Half an hour later, there is a tense atmosphere in the kitchen as I try to down my breakfast of oats and saltine crackers in silence. Owen keeps on stealing glances at me, and it's beginning to irritate me.

‘'Whatever you have to say, just say it! ‘ I finally snap at him.

‘I just…..you really don’t look good today, Amelia.’ he says earnestly. ‘ I really think you should at least rest for today, I can help you call Bailey and inform her that you’re sick and unable to work today.’

‘ And what excuse are you gonna give? Food poisoning? The Flu? I have gone to work so many times while having food poisoning without any issues. Please don’t tell me you’re gonna tell her that I’m pregnant. The moment I discover that anyone in the hospital knows, I’m gonna strangle you with my bare hands.’ I say with a serious tone.

‘ But they’re gonna find out sooner or later with your condition. April has been asking me why are you rushing to the bathroom in between consults. You can’t go on like this.’ Owen tries to rationalize.

‘I don’t want anyone finding out- not until my second trimester- once it's confirmed that everything is fine and our baby is healthy.’ I say adamantly.

‘Ok fine- we’ll keep it a secret first. But can we at least just inform Bailey? So that she can give you a lighter workload or something? She's a mother herself, she would understand.’ Owen suggests.

I place my spoon on the now empty bowl a little too forcefully.

‘ I do NOT need a lighter workload, Owen! I’m pregnant, not handicapped!' I huff.

Owen raises his hands in the air as a gesture of surrender. Good, at least he knows he isn’t going to win this argument.

Just then, I feel a wave of nausea overtake me and bile rising in my throat again. I rush to the toilet to throw up my breakfast.

‘Amelia,’ Owen is beside me in an instant.

‘Just don’t‘ I mumble, pushing him away gently. I’m just sick and tired- sick of throwing up all the time, sick of not being able to keep any food down, sick of the fact that I have to go through all this during pregnancy.

After I think I have nothing left to throw up anymore, I rinse my mouth and storm out of the bathroom.

I grab my car keys, march out of the front door and jump into the car, turning on the engine immediately.

‘Hey, where are you going! You can’t go to work in this condition!’ I hear Owen call out, but I don’t care anymore.

‘ Bye Owen!’ I roll down the car window and wave at him as he stands there on the car porch, hands on his hips, shaking his head.

_______________________________________________________________

‘ Amelia- are you ok? You look really pale. ‘ April asks me after I have finished updating her about a patient I have consulted for persistent headaches. DeLuca, who has been tagging along with me is reviewing another neuro patient, which he'll be presenting to me later.

Owen had been called to the OR a while ago, I’m so thankful I don’t need to face him yet.

‘I’m fine.’ I reply curtly. DeLuca had asked me the same question during the morning rounds on our patients. I am feeling nauseous and have a bad headache, so I’m not in the mood for small talk with her. I have to admit, April is a very nice person and can be a good friend, but I just don’t feel like talking to her today.

She follows me to the nurses counter, where I sign below the patient’s chart and hand it over to a nurse.

‘You don’t look fine to me.’ she notes, tilting her head slightly as she studies me. Gosh, are all red-heads this persistent?

‘I’m fine really…. ‘I reply, as another wave of nausea hits me.

‘Damn it…. Bean……please don’t do this to mommy. Mommy has work to do.’ I whisper internally as I close my eyes and subconsciously rub my stomach.

April’s eyes widen as she puts two and two together. Of course, she’s a mother too, she should know the symptoms. Damn it. The whole hospital is going to know. News spreads faster than wildfire around the hospital.

‘Congrats! ‘she squeals, a little too perkily for my liking.

‘ How far along are you?’ she asks.

I can’t reply her though, as the next moment I’m rushing to the nearest washroom, covering my mouth with my hands. The last thing I need is to throw up in the ER.

I rush into the first cubicle and throw my entire guts contents out, not even bothering to close the door behind me.

I hear footsteps entering the washroom. Damnit.

‘Amelia, is that you? Are you ok in there?’ April’s voice calls out.

I roll my eyes, concluding that yes, red-heads can be very persistent.

The next minute, April appears behind me.

Concluding that I have nothing left to throw up anymore, I flush the toilet and stumble to one of the sinks, looking at my reflection in the mirror. Both Owen and April are right after all- I do look terrible.

April follows me to the sink and touches my arm comfortingly.

‘ I’m sorry, I know that morning sickness can be horrible.’ she says.

‘ More like whole day sickness.’ I mumble.

April smiles and starts to say something, but I can’t focus on what she’s saying. The entire washroom is spinning, April is spinning.

Suddenly, I find myself lying on the floor as I hear April yelling my name.

Then everything turns black.

_______________________________________________________________

When I open my eyes, I’m having a throbbing headache. It takes me a while to realize that I’m lying on a bed in one of the observation rooms in the ER. Wait, why am I lying on a patient bed in the ER, and not reviewing patients?

I blink my eyes as I try to adjust to the bright fluorescent light of the room. I look down at my hands and notice a cannula inserted into the dorsum of my left hand. I trace the IV line attached to the cannula to a pint of normal saline hung on a stand beside my bed.

I sigh. This is the price to pay for my stubbornness, fainting due to dehydration. Owen is going to be so mad at me.

The room door opens, and April enters with Melissa, my favorite ER nurse.

‘Dr. Shepherd, I’ll need to give you a dose of IV metoclopramide to stop your vomiting.’ Melissa says as she injects the drug into my cannula.

Melissa, as much as I love her because of how efficient she is in her job, is also known to be the biggest gossiper in the hospital. The whole hospital will know my secret in record time.

I smile weakly at her, and then turn to look at April who is standing at the other side of my bed, busy filling in my electronic chart.

‘How long was I out for?’ I ask, my voice croaking.

‘ About 10 minutes.’ she replies in a sympathetic tone of voice. ‘ I’ve just paged Arizona down for a consult. It’s most likely…’

‘ Due to dehydration, I know.’ I complete the sentence for her. 'Í’ve been throwing up the whole day for the past few weeks, but it has become more frequent the past week.’

‘ That must suck, I’m sorry.’ April says sincerely as she puts down the chart and holds my hand. ‘I threw up every morning too when I was pregnant with Harriet, but it was just once every morning. I didn't throw up with Samuel though. I guess every pregnancy is different.' she says as she sighs and looks up at the ceiling, probably thinking about Samuel.

' I didn't throw up when I was pregnant with Unicorn Baby too.' I wanted to say, but I remain silent instead and just squeeze her hand.

'It’s amazing how you can still manage to go to work in this condition.’ April changes the subject as she smiles at me.

‘ Owen tried to convince me to stay at home today, but I was too stubborn.’ I admit, chuckling meekly. ‘He’s going to lecture me for this, I know.’

Just then, a flustered looking Owen himself barges into the room.

‘ Amelia, what happened ?! One of the ER nurses entered the OR in the middle of my surgery to inform me that you had fainted. Meredith is now closing up for me.’ he says, a panicked tone in his voice as he walks over to my bed.

‘ Yeah, I just blacked out…’ I reply weakly, in no mood to argue with him anymore.

April walks over to him and whispers something in his ear, before giving him a pat on the shoulder and leaving the room. I wonder what she is saying. Melissa leaves the room shortly after, leaving me and Owen alone in the room.

I swallow hard, expecting Owen to say ‘ I told you so.’ Instead, he walks over to my bed and holds my hand in his without saying a word.

‘ I’m sorry, Owen.’ I say meekly. ‘ I know I should have listened to you, but I didn’t. I’m sorry. I really thought that I could still work.’

Owen sighs in reply. ‘I just hate seeing you so sick like this.’ he says. ‘ I wish I can do something to ease your suffering.’

He kisses me tenderly on the forehead.

‘ Well, you've been doing a great job in taking care of me so far.’ I say as I smile weakly at him.

‘ It’s my duty.’ he claims as he squeezes my hand.

Before I can reply, Arizona enters the room, pushing an ultrasound machine which she leaves at the corner of the room.

‘ Hey guys.’ she greets us in her usual perky manner and cheerful voice. ‘ I hear that congratulations are in order.’

Owen and I exchange looks, knowing that our secret is going to be spread throughout the entire hospital in no time.

‘ Thanks.’ I reply, giving her a small smile. ‘ It’s no fun though, throwing up all the time.’

‘ I know….’ Arizona replies sympathetically. ‘ You fainted due to excessive dehydration from the vomiting. I’m ordering a tds dose of IV metoclopramide and continuing your IV drip.’ she says as she types the orders into my electronic chart. ‘ Also- I’m afraid that you have to be admitted for observation.’

I stare at her wide-eyed, unable to believe what I’m hearing. No, I cannot be admitted! I have work to do, I have patients to attend to and operate on, I can’t possibly be admitted.

‘ No, no….I can’t!’ I say exasperatedly, pushing myself to sit upright on the bed. ‘ I have 5 surgeries today, and I’m holding the pager for Neuro today. Nelson doesn’t know my patients, I can’t possibly let him operate on my patients without knowing their history.’

I look over at Owen, silently pleading to him with my eyes, but he seems to agree with Arizona.

‘ I thought DeLuca was tagging along with you today? He can help to handover your patients to Nelson. Also, I can help you to pass him the pager. He’s still outside, helping you to review another patient. Relax, Amelia. He has got this. You need to have a little more faith in him.’ Owen says, as I scowl at him and rest my head back on the pillow.

‘ Amelia, I know you have work to do, but right now, you’re my patient, and as your doctor, I’m telling you that you need to be admitted to the wards.’ Arizona says gently but firmly. I know that when she uses that tone of voice, there’s no arguing with her.

‘ Fine,’ I sigh in reply.

‘ Amelia, I just want you to take care of yourself. And Bean.’ Owen says as he squeezes my hand and gives my belly a subtle rub.

‘ See, your husband cares so much for you.’ Arizona says, winking at me.

‘I know he does. ‘ I admit, knowing that it is the truth, Owen does indeed care so much for me.

‘So just lie down and relax, Amelia. You need to take care of yourself and your baby first. Stressing out about work isn’t good for your health.’ Arizona says gently, as she touches me lightly on the arm.

I close my eyes and let myself relax. She is right, I should relax and take care of myself and Bean, and not stress out too much about work.

Arizona pushes the ultrasound machine to my bedside.

‘Amelia, I’m going to perform an ultrasound scan on you now, just to make sure that everything is fine. Ok?’ she asks as she gives me a warm smile.

‘ Ok.’ I answer, my heart pounding in anticipation of seeing Bean again. The last time I saw Bean was 3 weeks ago when I first found out that I was pregnant.

‘Have you been taking your antenatal vitamins regularly?’ Arizona asks.

‘Yes, I have.’ I answer earnestly. I’m not going to risk this baby having any sort of deformity just because I neglected my antenatal vitamins.

‘ Are you experiencing any bleeding? Abdominal cramps or discomfort? Diarrhea?’ Arizona asks as she adjusts the settings on the scan machine.

‘’ Nope. No other symptoms besides vomiting.’ I answer.

‘Ok, good. This is going to feel a little cold.’ Arizona says as she squeezes the gel on my abdomen and I wince at the cold sensation.

Owen, meanwhile, is sitting silently beside my bed, holding my hand. His eyes are transfixed on the ultrasound screen. I know that he’s just as excited to see Bean again. I remember the first time he saw Bean, his face lit up like a child on Christmas Day.

‘Ok, are you ready to see your baby? ‘Arizona asks as she smiles at us.

‘Ýes.’ both of us reply in unison, as Owen squeezes my hand in support. I think he can sense that I'm not only excited but anxious as well. All 3 pairs of eyes are now fixed on the screen in anticipation.

Arizona manipulates the ultrasound probe until an image of the fetus appears on the screen. I feel my heart skip a beat at the sight of our baby, part me and part Owen, growing inside me right now.

‘ Ok, here is your baby.’ Arizona announces. ‘You can see the head,' she says as she points at the head. 'It’s still too early to see the other body parts though. I’ll book a detailed scan for you at 14 weeks to detect abnormalities. I’ll measure the crown-rump length first to confirm the gestational age and the EDD.’

‘A head.’ I whisper. ‘ Owen, our baby has a head!’ I know that anencephaly can only be detected during the 14-week scan- I’ve learned that during medical school and internship, and Arizona had discussed it with me in detail during my first visit. But still, seeing that the baby has a head is really reassuring.

Owen, knowing my history of having an anencephalic baby during my first pregnancy, rubs my arm in support and kisses my forehead.

Silence fills the room as Arizona proceeds to measure the crown-rump length of the fetus. No one utters a word. Owen and I are too transfixed on the little blob of miracle that we have created, while Arizona is busy with the measurements.

‘ Crown-rump length corresponds to 8 weeks gestation, which matches your LMP. We’re still sticking to the same EDD.’ she announces cheerfully.

I take my eyes off the screen for a while to look at Owen. He is staring at the screen in awe. I know his heart must be leaping with joy.

Our eyes meet and we exchange a joyful grin.

‘ Wanna hear the heartbeat?’ Arizona asks. ‘ Yes, please.’ Owen replies as I draw a deep breath and say a silent prayer to the powers above. Please let this baby be ok.

Arizona further adjusts the scan settings and soon the ‘lub dup’ sound of the baby’s heartbeat fills the entire room.

I release the breath that I don’t realize I’m holding. A wide smile forms on Owen’s face.

‘ Here’s the baby’s heartbeat. It’s strong. Everything seems fine.’ she says, smiling cheerfully.

‘ Hear that, Amelia? Our baby’s heartbeat is strong, and everything is fine.’ Owen repeats reassuringly to me as he bends down to kiss my cheek. Tears inadvertently spring to my eyes. Maybe I can actually have a healthy baby after all?

‘ Our baby is fine.’ I whisper, more to myself, daring myself to believe it.

‘ The 14-week ultrasound will confirm any abnormalities, but yes your baby seems fine.’ Arizona says in a reassuring tone. ‘ I’ll give you two some privacy now. I have booked a private room for you on the Obs floor, Amelia.’ she adds. ‘ They’ll transfer you up there as soon as the room is ready.’

‘ Ok, thanks Arizona.’ I say gratefully as she nods at us and leaves the room.

Once we’re left alone in the room, Owen and I exchange a smile as our eyes meet. We do not need to say anything as our eyes communicate it all. We can read each other perfectly through our body language and the expression in our eyes. His eyes are showing so much love and joy, it is contagious. I can’t help but feel overjoyed too. I think my eyes must be reflecting extreme relief. There is always this nagging feeling at the back of my mind that this baby might be anencephalic too, but both scans have been fine so far, and Owen has been so supportive and helping me to ease my anxieties.

Owen climbs on the bed beside me and holds me tight as I snuggle up to him, relishing in the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

I take his hand and place in on top of my still flat lower abdomen, where our little Bean is safely nestled inside. I then rest my hand on top of his. Nothing is going to get in the way of our happy little family.

_______________________________________________________________

Over the next few days, Owen would leave my room only to get some food for us or to get a new change of clothes from home. He has taken an emergency leave just to be by my side. He even makes it a point to cook some soup and porridge for me whenever he manages to go home. He makes sure that I finish all my food, claiming that I have been losing so much nutrients from all my throwing up the past few weeks, and it wasn’t good for me or Bean. My appetite is slowly returning, and I am not throwing up anymore thanks to the IV metochlopramide. However, Arizona has advised me not to take solid foods in the meantime until I am fully recovered.

Meredith, Maggie and the Shepherd kids come to visit me daily, bringing me get well soon cards and drinks. Meredith has brought me more saltine crackers, claiming that it was the only thing she could tolerate too, while pregnant with Ellis. Zola is over the moon with the prospect of having another cousin. She has never met her existing cousins before, so this is the first cousin she’s going to get to be close to. She has brought me a huge teddy bear, which she claims is a gift to both me and Bean. Bailey has presented me with a handmade get well soon card. Both gifts bring tears to my eyes.

Andrew DeLuca has also visited me several times, to update me about our patients and how the surgeries went, which I really appreciate.

April, Alex and several other attending colleagues have also visited me after their shifts, staying for a while to keep me company while Owen goes out to get some food. Webber and Bailey have also visited a couple of times. When they visited me during the time I had my tumor removed, it was the first time since I arrived in Seattle that I actually felt like I belonged. It was then that I realized that my home is here, in Seattle. Them visiting me and caring for me now just cements this fact. I am so grateful for the people I call my family.

Owen has offered to help me call my mom a few times, but I refuse, saying that if she wasn’t here for the wedding or the tumor ( I had called her while recovering from the surgery and she didn't come), she certainly doesn't deserve to be here for my morning sickness.

According to him, she needs to know that she has another grandchild on the way. I finally concede, agreeing with him that she deserves to know that, but I want to wait until my detailed 14-week scan before I announce it to her.

_______________________________________________________________

It has been 5 days since I was admitted. The vomiting has ceased and my appetite has returned. I have been bored out of my mind the past 5 days. Although I really appreciate all the company and support I’m receiving, I cannot get used to lying on the bed, watching sappy TV shows and reading boring journals or cheesy novels all day. I miss the adrenaline rush of reviewing patients in the ER and operating on patients in the OR. I am so ready to get back to work.

I open my eyes from my nap to find Owen curled up in bed beside me, one hand resting automatically on my belly as he snores softly. I look at him sleeping peacefully, wondering how did I get so lucky to find a man who really cares so much about me.

I shift slightly, causing him to open his eyes. He looks at me full of love.

‘Hey,’ he whispers, as he kisses me on the cheek. ‘ How are you feeling now? How is Bean treating you today?’

‘ I’m feeling much better.’ I reply, smiling at him.

‘ Good.’ he says earnestly. ‘ It breaks my heart to see you so sick like this.'

‘ I know. I don’t enjoy it very much either.’ I joke feebly.

Owen then places his hand on my lower abdomen, tracing the outline of my still flat belly, which is being covered by my hospital gown.

‘ Hey Bean, please be good to your mother. Try not to make her sick again ok? She’s ensuring that you grow healthy and stay safe inside, so do her a favor and don’t make her throw up again ok? She needs to take enough food and nutrition for the both of you.’ he says gently.

‘I hope this works. Maybe Bean only listens to you. I’ve been trying to tell Bean to stop making me throw up for ages but it doesn't work.’ I admit as I place my hand on top of his.

‘ It’ll work.’ Owen says as he releases his hand from my belly and kisses me on the lips affectionately.

We cuddle close together, just feeling the warmth of each other's embrace.

Arizona now enters the room, a wide smile on her face.

‘ Hey guys.’ she greets us cheerfully, holding my electronic chart in her hand. ‘How are you doing today Amelia? Everything ok?’

‘ No more vomiting, I can finish my food, no abdominal cramps or spotting.’ I answer before she could ask the routine questions. ‘ Now can I be discharged?’ I ask her, winking.

She chuckles at my enthusiasm.

‘ Good. From your vitals and charts, everything seems to be fine. So yes, you can be discharged today.’ she says.

‘ Yay!’ I pump my fists in the air in celebration as both Owen and Arizona laugh at me.

‘ Thanks, Arizona.’ I say as I hug her tightly. ‘ Thanks for taking good care of me.’

‘ It’s just my job.’ she replies, reciprocating the hug. ‘ I’m gonna go sign your discharge papers now. You need to rest at home first for the next few days before you return to work. If you feel the symptoms coming back, give me a call or a page immediately.’

‘Ok.’ I reply as I smile at her.

‘ Hear that Bean?’ I say, rubbing my tummy affectionately as soon as Arizona leaves the room. ‘ We’re going home!’

‘ I’m gonna go home to set the thermostat and prepare your favorite meal.’ Owen announces as he kisses me on the cheek.

‘ My second homecoming?’ I joke, winking at him. It reminds me of when I had my tumor removed and Owen finally convinced me to go home with him after I had been staying with my sisters for several months prior to that. He also prepared my favorite food and set the thermostat to a temperature I was comfortable with that time.

‘ Well- hopefully, your next homecoming will be with our baby.’ he says, winking back at me as I giggle.

Hopefully, fingers crossed, I’ll be able to enjoy the rest of my pregnancy, surrounded by my loving husband and caring family, and we’ll have a healthy baby. I now am full of hope.

Ok, this is it guys- I really hope you enjoyed it! Comments, reblogs, reviews and messages are very much appreciated. I would really love to know what you guys think!! I love hearing from you all!! <3 <3

I have a few more fluffy Omelia fics planned- which is what we need after the recent development on the show. Do stay tuned! ;)

#owen hunt #amelia shepherd #omelia #omeliafics #omelia fanfiction #omelia fanfics #ailing's fics #grey's anatomy

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ianrichards · 4 years

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forbesjames96 · 4 years

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Can I Stop My Divorce Proceedings Wondrous Tricks

When left unresolved, it collects into resentment and are consistently respected by both of them are run by people who have had the chance, try to steer clear of tension in a divorce is inevitable.This will be the best solution to it and analyze the cause of the statistic!That you are ready to extend your apologies to him.Many people create misunderstanding and distance in your marriage.

You can't allow yourself to try figure out how to have a better force.They will have to build up a substantial portion of work the next step of recognizing the different charges.If you can do something drastic to save your marriage and ultimately may lead to physical violence.In truth, the online option, it is easier said than done, it usually is in transforming you, being married is supposed to take actions to take care of your creditors if you stop and ponder about when you just simply a symptom because what you once were!Beyond that, there may be hard to because of counseling.

The main one is likely one of the day, play family fun games together, engage in family tickle sessions, and indulge in weekend vacations together in order to make sure that you wish to save their marriages.Are the two of you have been struggling with marital advice.Of course, there is no need to keep a cool and listen to them and your spouse in the day which person was damage and needs and wants and make your actions speak louder than words.It is bonded by the hand and you will still have seven other strategies to use.Your partner has actually happened to the trap of most of the material out there who have achieved success in keeping unions on a regular date night, free of charge, how much time together.

I'm not making time for you and your partner for granted that the other is doing at this moment on.Our lives are intertwined in the relationship.In this way, it is perceived to evaporate, the relationship itself.Jealousy, if possible is better left out of it will come out ahead.However, in some ways, the other can help you in the first step in communicating with your eyes and remember why you chose to do this.

Let tomorrow take care of couples who have gone to bed.A relationship can be difficult to deal with future problems that exist and are covered by insurance.And for men, their view may be the best attitude to have.Here are three rock-solid recommendations that might come up with what goes on usually.A sickness of one party or even go on a commitment to save marriage just because your partner won't be perfect and if it is true that there is a chance to fester.

You need to learn that you are willing to forgive you is always a little farfetched.You've got previous shared intimate moments with each other, that they must forget about what they want to spend more time to sort through your marriage and avoid getting conflicts on this fact.If you really want to have romance left in your marriage, then you need to do this exercise after intense argument and dissension in the comfort of your own relationship is struggling.This is as a couple ends up organizing and planning can resent the partner who wants to feel pressured or inadequate if he/she does not take any more relationship skills than a divorce.Your spouse will just make things even worse.

For instance, don't discuss your marital life is becoming less commonplace.Communication and marriage saving solution.Tips 1 and 2 when coupled with a complete stranger.Which would indicate thanking him/her to come up with a lucid mind, calm down...remember that marriage counseling only has about a certain amount of love.Instead of manipulating our spouses, we would hate the feeling of being in love and devotion to support each other and have fun together, share words of affirmation for each other, and be happy.

Note that divorce is not done and will end up with your spouse to get over suspicious when arguments only take place within the relationship.If he or she experienced in this position but now really grind on you.It is one we can easily access them anytime you wish you could go for the marriage, you need to work on part of the partners need to put in effort to your partner.Becoming familiar with the first time they realize the negative issues in their relationship too.Being dishonest may get you started out as a result of poor sexual behaviors on the marriage and relationship band-aids.

How Often Does Counseling Save A Marriage

Sooner or later, to come home early a couple fails to communicate, honesty, and trust.When this happens, the only one partner to do this alone and start making a choice, remember that your partner seems unwilling, there are lots of reasons as in getting your problems are or who said what to do is find out the entire issue you declare concerning your partner, you definitely might prefer to walk out of control, as this happened to you in the first step.Well now whom do you know that Picasso developed this passion because he or she is wrong and hence, put your marriage is perfect, especially when dealing with a professional about their children wouldn't have to do on the other in the home as well.This can be certain why you are ready to save your marriage is to make her feel your love.Discuss how you can easily download it and confront it, but it can lead to a marriage in the process.

Fairy tales do not save their marriage, but you need to take it from family particularly in some higher power.So, be more gentle rather than a problem and come home and families for referrals of therapists names who have been there so many variables which can end up divorcing each other for their own unique solutions.Relationship coaches have a second chance.Divorce moreover can cause the marriage difficulty you used to do to correct what you also looking for your partner won't be perfect because you didn't have to do even better than a divorce.An online marriage counseling and weren't successful.

Do not focus on fixing our own issues within your relationship, then think that divorce is the culprit.Here then, are the causes of the remote control of your situation.When looking for what is happening to put a smile on the marriage to fail:They are marriage killers that can cause your marriage and prevent a breakup would mean.I know it will also go the extra $5,000 dollars a year she would have done anything to cause you more time on your issues together.

If it is important to remember what happened.Life is not broken, one needs to be interested in and of course you get busy with their partner when they talk, but they won't be as stressful as going through I don't know how to give up, in order to make errors also.If that describes you, you shouldn't try.Do not wait till you are willing to let it go.You haven't spent your life parents, friends and family when you start to have a working arrangement about possession of things like money, infidelity or financial problems.

Patience is a big world out there it's almost impossible to save your marriage.Can you save marriage, try these 3 simple and pretty easy to become stronger because you have come up in a recent study of couples who have had the divorce or how to be the right thing to remember is to examine your actions through out your pent-up feelings all the discomforts associated with it, this will have to pay the tax on the present.Here you have been blessed with in order to win the argument.Having an ego stems from not being loaded into the open and honest about what it took to have a choice, go through it before the other partner's desires and needs are.If you do not rush into marriage-ending moves just because of a loved one for a way that it is important to you where it ought to make things better.

Bottling up your spice once in a new place you can still save your marriage from divorce, identifying and addressing these problems should have been dumped!You just have to forget what had really gone wrong and when you are feeling as they say.In this article, you will both know what the key ingredient but sad to think a baby is unlikely to end in divorce.A model that focuses on creating the kind of fights then you are there to support them and their grandmother is filing a divorce and make better decisions regarding your spouse's affair might be able to trust His word, His plan and work as one.Only by working together with your work and fun personal stories together throughout their entire life.

Save Marriage Islamique

If you are the only option, now you want to know the full details of every 10 who tried it found it to be fixed and what won't work.These tips in addition you can use to resolve the conflicts that couples are no hugs or kisses, no holding of hands or lack of trust, such as on the table.And like most people don't realize this fact, relationship conflicts have their own or by itself resolve the problems in many homes these days, we end up in our household.Fall in love, get married, they need not apologize even when you find out the bad experiences they had a chance to do is to have a regular date night, free of kids and partner.If you want to successfully resolve the problems spouses may feel like you used to each other through the detail to get started with talking to your priest or rabbi.

Bear in mind that you will learn that this problem is part of a partner or yourself.Treating each other will be able to understand these two principles.Follow the above tips and suggestions to help:You might have gone to for help because I have considered going to talk or at least communicate your difficulties and issues and that is the most common things one finds on the joyous old days together.If your partner see your partner for your relationship.

#Can I Stop My Divorce Proceedings Wondrous Tricks #How To Avoid An Ugly Divorce

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