Jasmin just aged up to elder (this sc taken shortly before that) and also became a 4 star celebrity. Career-wise she got to the highest level of Socal Media/Public Relations, which started her step into the spotlight. She then pivoted and became a chef which she again, managed to get to the top level of. She's also been a renowned archeologist since she was a young adult. And she has 4 children. And her parents died when she was a teen so she had to raise her younger siblings. She's sure come a long way and become an overachiever lmao.

^ A slightly younger Jasmin and Ahmed in Selvadorada, where they've spent many of their years and regularly visit with their children.

InuKag Week 2020

Some nice, fluffy moments for you in this chapter. As well as a lemon but ya know. Day Five of InuKag Week: Instinct. @inukag-week​ here is my contribution for today. Hope you all enjoy!

Thank you to all of you for reading and reviewing. It's nice to know where I stand on this fic.

Chapter 5 of 8  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Instinct

It took a year and a half but frankly, I was surprised it took that long. I may be inexperienced but I'm not an idiot and I know how these things work. When I missed a period, I wasn't even upset or confused. And the at-home and doctor's positive tests were just extra. I knew I was pregnant.

We didn't even try to be careful. Inuyasha never wore a condom and I wasn't on the pill. And we fucked constantly. With Inuyasha not even pulling out, I had to assume he didn't care if he knocked me up.

I still didn't say anything to him though. I didn't really know what to say. I wasn't his girlfriend or wife. We weren't even lovers we just had sex. I didn't know anything about him outside the house either.

I did know his moods. One glance and I knew what to expect. I knew his laugh, his tender touch, how he could be excruciatingly kind. How he was overprotective to an obnoxious amount sometimes, another good reason not to mention my pregnancy.

I had his dick memorized. How he liked it touched, licked, and sucked. And the slight curve it had and how it felt inside me. Inuyasha knew my weak points too, the spot on my shoulder, licking the inside of my thighs, how hard to suck my nipples or my clit.

I knew every inch of his body as he knew mine. Which made me wonder how long it would take him to notice? I said nothing, not even to the staff. But the cook noticed my change in appetite and the maid noticed my vomit in the bathroom.

The weather went from cold to hot again, passing the two-year mark and Inuyasha either didn't notice or was saying nothing. Even as I developed a little belly under my belly button. My clothes were getting tighter and the only thing Inuyasha had said about it was sending someone to get me new clothes.

I didn't tell him I was going out regularly to see my doctor but it was my only excuse to get out of the house. With my pregnancy showing, I couldn't even have Sango over. What would I tell her? I couldn't even find the words to tell Inuyasha!

Particularly irritated, I sat on top, grinding hard on Inuyasha's cock. Our nightly meetings had never changed and now without periods to break them up, they never faltered.

Inuyasha was lying still, his arms under his head watching me. There was no hiding it anyway and I no longer cared, one hand on his knee to steady my angle to get him deeper and the other on the peak of my swell as I rocked. The extra weight was a little uncomfortable without support in this position.

I was close to getting rid of my horny irritation, my orgasm beginning to start as I took out my frustrations on Inuyasha's penis. "You aren't...seeing anyone else?"

Now I was even more irate because Inuyasha's random question made my orgasm fly out the window. Coming to a stop, I righted myself on his pelvis and glared down at him. "Excuse me?!"

"You aren't seeing anyone besides me? Dating, fucking, sleeping with someone besides me?"

I rolled my eyes as hard as I could, making sure he could see it. Another thing I learned was Inuyasha's weak-ass communication skills. This was his way of asking me if the baby was his. Which only infuriated me.

"When? When the hell was I able to date or fuck anyone but you?!"

As skillfully as I could at six months pregnant, I swung my leg and myself off of him. He hissed as the cold air hit his dick, losing my warmth and my wetness which only made it cooler. Grabbing my robe off the floor where I left it, I tried to be clothed for this fight. I felt less intimidating naked.

Inuyasha didn't move save for pushing up on his elbows to follow my movements. "Maybe when you worked at the club?!"

Crossing my arms to sit on my chest and small bump, I glared at him hard. "I'd already given birth if it was someone from there. The kid would be at least a year old by now!"

"I know that!" He screeched.

"Then why did you ask?!"

"Maybe it's when you sneak out of here a few times a month?! Did you really think I wouldn't notice?!"

I was shocked because I sincerely didn't think he had. Shutting my mouth, I quickly swept away my angry tears and tried to stop my shaking. "I'm going to see my OBGYN you ass hat! Not a lover! The only dick I've ever known is you!"

He didn't hesitate, continuing his rant right along with mine. "You shouldn't be going out, not even to see your doctor. Especially looking like that…"

Even though I swore I was over Inuyasha's need to keep me hidden away from the world, it now felt like an elephant sat on my chest from time to time when it was brought up. Now being one of those times. "Like what? Like a knocked up sex slave? If you are so ashamed or worried or whatever then maybe you should have worn a condom!"

"Maybe you should have gone on birth control!"

"When?! I'm not allowed to leave this fucking prison and they don't mail that shit to you!"

I was so angry the room was spinning and all I saw was red. I was trying to storm back to my room but for some reason, I was in Inuyasha's hold. "Kagome?! Are you alright?!"

My arms felt like jelly as I pushed at his hold. "I'm fine. Don't touch me. You've touched me enough!"

The room was still spinning and I was struggling to breathe. Then the room went from red to black.

oOo

"It's her blood pressure. It was way too high."

I woke to the sound of voices, in my bed, with Inuyasha and my doctor standing over me.

"High blood pressure? She's 23!"

"And pregnant. Pregnancy causes a lot of changes in a woman's body and sometimes it affects their blood pressure."

"What can I do?" I stared at Inuyasha, unknown by him as he looked and sounded like a scared little boy. "What can I do to keep them safe and healthy?"

I'd never seen Inuyasha like that, terrified and helpless. He'd always seemed sure and strong no matter what was going on. It was strange to see it now after two years. And a part of me was far too happy at his acknowledgment of the baby.

"Is she under a lot of stress? What was she doing when she fainted?"

Inuyasha shifted his weight, his arms crossed across his chest like when he wanted to protect himself. "We were...fighting. It's my fault."

I couldn't stand being spoken of anymore so I slowly sat up. My doctor was quick to my side but Inuyasha was quicker. "Whoa, now Kagome. You gave us quite the scare there. Let's take it easy, yeah?"

"I'm fine."

"Jesus, Kagome, listen to the damn doctor!"

Inuyasha was upset but I could tell it was partly out of fear and all at himself. Even if I hadn't heard their conversation. It all had me forgetting my earlier slights and irritations with the man now sitting near my legs on the bed.

Leaning over, I gently stroked his cheek and he greedily took the comfort. "It's okay. I'm okay, Inuyasha."

"It's not uncommon or even unhealthy for couples to fight. But maybe tone it down until after the baby is born?"

Inuyasha saw the doctor out, who promised to return for her next visit so I didn't have to come to her. Something Inuyasha must have set up while I was out. I was trying really hard not to be upset about it as Inuyasha returned to me.

Sitting in the same spot he had before, he looked me over carefully and thoughtfully. "You set up in-home visits with my doctor?!"

His eyes went to the floor but he still nodded his answer.

"Why is it so important to you…"

"Because you're important to me."

Anything and everything died in my throat. I had nothing to say to that. Inuyasha still wasn't looking at me, wringing his hands between his knees as he hunched over.

"My mother died when I was really young. She went out one day and never came back. My dad said it was his fault, that they killed her to get to him…"

"Who's they?"

He shrugged, "no clue but dad killed them in return. That's… all I really know about it."

I held my breath because now I'd learned a lot more about Inuyasha in a few shared words. His mother was murdered because of who his father is. Meaning not only did Inuyasha have overprotective tendencies that verged on obsessiveness but he came from a family that others wanted to hurt.

Inuyasha was rich and powerful.

Which meant he was either one of two things: mob or politician. Given his interests and investments, I'd have to guess mob. I was having a baby with a mob boss.

Oddly enough, it didn't bother me. Mob boss or not, Inuyasha was a nice guy to me. I'd never seen him do bad and so it was easy to ignore any misgivings. I struggled to imagine Inuyasha hurting anyone.

"Going to the doctor..it wasn't a big deal. I was safe. There was no harm and it was an excuse to go out…"

"Didn't you hear what I just said?! Someone killed my mother just to spite my father. For kicks, because they wanted to weaken him." Turning, Inuyasha showed me his angry eyes. They always looked like they were on fire when he was like this. "The people who want to hurt me, they'd take one look at your pregnant body and see Christmas. And they would have no struggle killing you and sending me the fetus."

I broke. It was all too much. Because I wanted to go out, to be normal and free. But Inuyasha was scaring me. So I wept, clutching my swollen body like a jewel that others were trying to steal.

Inuyasha clutched it just as hard, wrapping around me to either comfort me, himself, or both. "The house sits on five acres. There's a pool, tennis court, hell there's even a zen garden. All of it is yours. You can have Sango come over and spend time with you, I don't care. Just please, don't go out broadcasting our child around town for all to see."

oOo

I was relaxing in my bed when it started. Inuyasha was still at work since the day had barely begun. The book in my hands was not being read as my mind was miles away. Thinking about the night before.

Inuyasha and I had just had gentle but satisfying sex, he bent me over the bed so he didn't put weight on my belly while rubbing my clit as he throbbed inside me from behind. At my size, sleep was a struggle. I couldn't get comfortable. But sex always helped because it tired me out.

It must have been the baby that woke me, waking up exhausted to see her foot or hand trying to escape my uterus. I could actually see my skin rise as she pushed with all her might against her cage.

That didn't bother me in the slightest, I thought it was cool even though annoying. What had my mind tumbling even till morning was Inuyasha.

He rolled over to me and put his hand over my belly, gently rubbing the spot the baby had been pressing. "Shhhh...calm down or you'll wake mommy."

Inuyasha clearly had no clue I was already awake and I continued to be as he spoke to the baby through my belly.

"I'm excited to meet you too but it's not time yet and you and your mommy need to rest. You've been a bad girl lately, getting all wild whenever mommy tries to rest. That's not nice." I wasn't sure if it was his touch, voice, words, or all of it but the baby calmed back down and stopped her escape attempts. "That's a good girl, Moroha."

We hadn't discussed a name and yet, Inuyasha had one picked out already. I liked it. It was repeating in my head all day long. The entire 'conversation' was. The whole thing was so sweet, it brought me to tears each time I let my mind hear Inuyasha's voice as he spoke to my belly. With so few instances in which Inuyasha showed interest in our child, that one moment showed me just how much he wanted this baby. And it mirrored me.

But, as Inuyasha said, it was still early. Three weeks from my due date. Which was why I ignored the tensing of my muscles around my swollen belly and uterus. Even as they squeezed close to pain. I kept hoping it was Braxten Hicks and that they would go away.

So I said nothing, even when Inuyasha texted me midday to check on us. It was good he didn't call like usual, he always said I was a terrible liar, even on the phone.

When I didn't come out for lunch, it was brought to me. And of course, I had another contraction with the maid there. A big one. It was starting to seem as though these were the real deal. This only added to the fear in my veins, doubling over myself to try and take yet another contraction. This one felt as if my muscles were trying to pull me apart from the inside out. My only reprieve was that they weren't that close together yet. I had a good 30-minute break between each one.

Which timed it perfectly for when Inuyasha burst into my room.

"Kagome?!"

My open, in shock, mouth served to allow a loud whimper to escape as my muscles tensed and pulled at me. Curling into a ball did nothing but I did it anyway for some reason. A bodily reaction I had no control over.

Inuyasha was at my side when I opened my tear-filled eyes, kneeling on the floor next to my bed and brushing strands out of my face. Taking in his appearance, it was clear he had raced here straight from work. It was the first time I'd seen him with a tie on, he usually had it off by the time I saw him.

"You lied to me. You fucking lied, Kagome!" He was mad, even as he tenderly brushed my skin with the pads of his fingers. "The doctor is on her way. How far apart are your contractions?"

Getting over my shock at his apparent knowledge, I took a dry swallow, "30 minutes."

"Good, then there's still time." He got to his feet but kept his eyes on me. "I'm just going to go change, I'll be right back."

True to his word, I wasn't even close to another contraction when Inuyasha reappeared in some jeans and a t-shirt. Chuckling to myself, I wondered if he wore jeans just to keep from being in his usual 'let's fuck' outfit.

He helped me sit up but just as he did, another contraction hit. His hands still in mine, neither of us let go and he let me squeeze as hard as I could without so much a whimper of complaint. When I continued to push up to stand, he complained then.

"What are you doing?!"

"The doctor will be here soon...and my contractions are less than 30 minutes apart….I should take off my underwear…."

It was surprising how out of breath I was like I had been running when all I'd done was face an onslaught of pain every few minutes or so.

My legs were shaking so Inuyasha sat me back down on the edge of the bed and worked my panties off my hips for me. I giggled when he got them to my ankles, lifting my feet for him, and he looked up at me with a smirk. He already knew what I was thinking, how life was like a revolving door of sorts. The very act that caused the life about to be born, taking off my panties, was now being done again for a completely different and still the same reason.

Inuyasha remained crouched before me, his warm hands on my knees when another contraction hit. He shot up, his hands on my shoulders to steady me. I grabbed his shirt, gripping it and close to ripping it since his child was trying to rip out of me.

"Inu...yasha…"

"I got you. I got you, Kagome."

A dark laugh spilled out of me, a mixture of pain and hormones that had my emotions all over the place. "You got me...INTO THIS MESS...you damn well better….be here to GET ME OUT OF IT!"

I was panting but the contraction was over, Inuyasha still held me tight though. "Please don't call having my baby a mess. Besides, the real mess starts after the baby is born."

By the time the doctor arrived, my contractions had stalled. She kept checking but my cervix hadn't dilated past seven centimeters. Inuyasha was beginning to pace.

"Isn't there something we can do? The baby could be in distress!"

That made me nervous and Inuyasha cringed, stopping his little walk to sit beside me and hold my hand. The doctor said something to her nurse and then answered his question. "The baby is fine. We went over all of this when we prepped for a home birth. Remember?"

She was scolding him and if it were another time or place, I would have laughed. He was the one who pushed to have the baby at home, changing my birth plan completely. I wanted to have her in a hospital surrounded by doctors and people who knew what the fuck they were doing! But Inuyasha had his reasons.

"Sorry." He mumbled to her and to me.

Hours passed and finally, my labor started again. But I almost wished it hadn't. I thought the contractions were bad. No, pushing a six-pound person out of my vagina was worse. Things were tearing and all I could do was continue to push and tear more.

Inuyasha was still at my side, letting me squeeze whatever I wanted to death in payback. At one point I had grabbed his shirt and pulled him in close to hear me growl. "I knew you were going to ruin my vagina."

He smiled and I almost punched him so he tried to lean back but I held on tight. My brain flip-flopped with emotions and I found myself crying. Inuyasha thought it was pain, using his free hand to brush wet strands from my face and cup my cheek carefully. But it wasn't the pain exactly. It was something else. It was fear.

"I don't...I don't want to do this alone….I don't want to raise her on my own…" I sobbed.

Inuyasha glanced over at the doctor and then back at me. "You aren't alone. You'll never be alone, Baby."

It was strange, hearing a term of endearment from him but I was too wrapped up in the situation to care. More sobs ripped from me and they hurt all the way down to my aching vagina.

"When I first saw you," Inuyasha whispered in my ear, "...up on that stage; you were terrified but you didn't back down. It was your eyes, Kagome. Your bright teal eyes and I couldn't look away from you. I wasn't there to buy or anything. You were not my purpose that day. But I couldn't leave you. I still can't. I wish I could say I was sorry but I want you more and more each day, Baby, so I can't let you go."

His words had another sob come out with a whimper but he cut it off, kissing me sweetly and not caring about the others in the room.

"Alright, Kagome. One more big push."

oOo

The bassinet Inuyasha bought months ago had yet to be used. Mainly because I was too afraid to move Moroha after she fell asleep. The last thing I wanted was to wake her.

So she slept next to me. With one arm wrapped around her head and the other poised over her, I kept her safe and eventually got used to the uncomfortable position. At two months she was far from rolling but I still felt paranoid about it.

I don't think I had really slept since she was born. Or before then when my size made me too uncomfortable. It was why when the lightest touch came to my arm, I nearly jolted out of bed.

"Kagome.." Inuyasha whispered, standing over me and looking down at the two of us.

Going around, he removed my homemade cage and gently lifted tiny Moroha into his hands. She used to fit in just his hands alone, stretching across his palms as he held them together. But now he had to put her in the crook of his arm to carry her. I was overjoyed she was growing, so small when she was born I wept for days, but she was growing fast.

Now still asleep in her bassinet, Inuyasha slowly climbed into the bed next to me. On my side and him on his, we stared at one another for a few silent moments. Then we met halfway in a tentative embrace that quickly turned up the heat.

We were ripping clothes off without a thought. It had been a while and Inuyasha had been very patient. And patient still, his tip pressing to my entrance and freezing.

"Are you okay? Are you ready?"

He was frantic. Wanting to fuck but not wanting to hurt me and the two were colliding together at the moment.

I grabbed his ass, digging in my claws, and whispered in his ear. "Fuck me hard now."

Obeying my command, his tip hit my womb so fast it made us both dizzy. A few seconds of fast pumps and we both came. Which was the fastest either of us had ever finished and stars filled my room.

We were both still a little out of it, Inuyasha still hard and as deep inside me as he could go, when Moroha fussed a little beside us. Neither of us moved and I was sure we had no clue how much noise we had made during our fast and needy fuck.

When she settled back to sleep, Inuyasha turned his attention back to me. "I meant for the two of you to sleep in my room with me."

I shook my head at him. "She keeps me up most of the night. And you have to work in the morning."

His arms around me, he gave me a squeeze. "I want to have more."

"More sex?"

"No, I mean yes that too. I want to have more kids. With you."

"Easy for you to say. I'm the one that went through hell!"

"But you can't tell me it wasn't worth it."

Inuyasha was looking back at the bassinet while I was watching him. The glassy look in his eyes and the smile on his face. If I wasn't already in love with Moroha, blissfully happy with my life, and actually thinking about at least two more children then the look on Inuyasha's face right now would have changed my mind.

"Yes. It was worth it."

I feel as though having a baby is pretty instinctual. Not the wanting to have a baby part but the growing and birthing in general.

Baby’s First Revenge Part 3

Continuation to Charlotte story of reincarnation and revenge. 

Part 1 / Part 2 

Enjoy!

I hate child actors.

Director Mark Tuttle sighed loudly as he watched yet another young girl robotically recite her lines. Her small hands clutched the script tightly, shaking slightly with nervousness.

“I. Will. Protect. You.”

What was with all the unnatural pauses? Mark suspected it had something to do with the child’s mother, who stood off to the side with a stiff, botox-enhanced smile while giving a thumbs up to her daughter. The look in that woman’s eyes… Mark shuddered, making a mental note to stay far away. She looked like the type that might stab him for not choosing her daughter.

“No. One. Will. Take. You. Away.”

And there was no way in hell he was choosing this girl.

Although sadly, she is one of the better ones of the bunch. The girl before had burst into tears halfway through her lines and had to be carried out, and one lost interest one sentence in and started monologue about how much she loved her pet cat. It gave him a headache just thinking about the options for the lead. Fortunately he was able to fairly easily find a child to play the boy character Jordan’s part. The personality was a little off, and it didn’t help the little twerp was the son of one of the executive producers, but at least the kid could act. The side parts were filled without too much difficulty as well.

Now all that was left was to find the main lead.

The girl left awkwardly after finishing her lines, leaving the group, which consisted of him, a couple of producers the head of casting and Peter the author, to discuss her performance.

“She wasn’t too bad.” Peter spoke up first.

“Wasn’t too bad?” Lacy, the head of casting, glared at the writer. “I’m so sorry for your loss, when is the funeral?”

Peter looked confused. “What do you mean?

“I assume you want to mourn the death of your good taste.”

“Everyone!” Mark cut in before the two could argue further. “Let’s not get carried away. The girl made it through her lines, but was definitely stiff. That may resolve with some coaching but for now candidates 3 and 14 remain our top choices.”

“At least they could somewhat act.” One of the producers grumbled.

“I think candidate 3 was fantastic, why are we even bothering to continue auditions?!” Peter seemed slightly frantic as he cut in again. “Did her mother slip you money? Or do you just have irritable bowels and need to leave the room to find a toilet?”

“Lacy…” Mark’s tone was not amused.

“I’m just saying, we all have places we would like to be, but I for one would like to consider ALL the candidates for the LEAD of this MULTIMILLION dollar production. Unlike some people I take pride in my work!”

“Hey!”

“Who says I was talking about you, Peter?”

“You were LITERALLY pointing at me!”

“That’s a surprise… given your previous statements, I just assumed you were blind.”

“SHUSH, or I physically separate you two.” Glaring at the offenders, he waited until they had both nodded with agreement before continuing. “Now. There is one candidate left to audition. Number 19. Lets hear her act before we come to any final decisions.”

Turning towards the door he gestured to the aide standing there. “Bring in nineteen.”

As they waited for the last girl to walk on the makeshift stage, Mark noticed his heartbeat quicken with excitement.

I wonder what kind of performance she’ll give us? Thinking of the child’s clear answers and determined gaze from before, he couldn’t help but look forward to seeing her acting skills. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but found them raised nonetheless.

The girl walked in, her face still showing a confident expression similar to before. Her parents walked in behind her, sitting in the corner quietly. Mark couldn’t help but smirk to himself at their average presence.

How did two nice, normal people like that give birth to such a strange child?

Once she was positioned in front of them, he leaned forward, giving no indication that he had met her before.

“On the table beside you in a script for one of Edith’s key scenes. We will give you a few moments to look it over, and then will ask you to perform it. Lacy here will read the lines of the other characters. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation. She picked up the script and seemed to casually glance through it before lightly tossing it back on the table.

“I’m ready.”

“…” The group looked at each other uncomfortably. Finally Lacy pulled the microphone towards herself, clearing her throat.

“You have to perform the lines on the script as written.”

The little girl raised an eyebrow, her amused expression somehow making everyone questioning her to feel… childish. “I’m aware.”

“You’re ready?”

“So I’ve said.”

Peter let out a contemptuous snort at the girl’s confidence, but fortunately stayed silent.

“Then you may begin.”

Nodding her head, the girl took a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. When she opened them, everyone found themselves leaning in, drawn by the change in the atmosphere around her. The cute little girl with the confident appearance was gone.

In her place was someone different… someone dangerous.

The air around her seemed tense, as if every muscle was poised to strike when needed. Her face was calm, almost expressionless, but her eyes… her eyes spoke volumes. They showed the soul of someone who trusted no one but herself, and was willing to fight to the death to protect herself and her own. They were the eyes of someone willing to take down the person in front of her or die trying.

“Leave us alone.” The voice was cold, threatening.

“Why should I?” Lacy playing the part of a thug, answered with a perfect belligerent tone.

The girl smiled, but it was only stretching her face, her eyes remained cold and angry.

“You might think we’re weak targets because we’re young, but you’ve got it wrong. I may not be stronger than you now, but I will be. All I have is time, and if you refuse to leave us alone… that time will be devoted to finding a way to destroy you.” Her hands clenched at her sides, if Mark didn’t know better, he would think she was ready to leap across the table and stab Lacy. His eyes wide, he motioned for Lacy to move on to the next scene.

“Why do they want to hurt us, Edith?” Lacy held out her script for a moment, showing the girl the new spot they were picking up from. Her voice had changed into a higher pitch suitable for a young, scared boy. The girl nodded, continuing the scene from where Lacy had left off.

“I will protect you.” Mark’s eyes opened wide, the girl’s threatening atmosphere had disappeared without a trace. What was left was a smiling, kind girl, giving off the atmosphere of a doting older sister.

“But…”

“No one will take you away from me.” The sentence was final, her confidence shining through. It was as if every part of her was striving to convince him that she would take care of him, even while her shoulders looked too thin to handle even the lightest of burdens.

Mark found himself breaking out into a large smile.

This is her. We’ve found our Edith.

 She was more than great, she was the living embodiment of the character he wanted to create. Small but strong, young but determined. Dangerous when needed to protect herself and her loved ones, but gentle in front of the boy she swore to take care of.

Perfect.

The others in the group smiled widely, the atmosphere relaxed as they all confirmed silently that she was the right candidate. Well… everyone except…

“You made a mistake.” Peter’s eyes were narrowed, a deep frown on his face.

“Mistake?” The girl asked, but no nervousness could be found on her face.

“The line was ‘No one can take you away.’ Not ‘No one will take you away from me.’” He shook his head. “If you hadn’t been so casual about studying the script, you wouldn’t have made that mistake.” 

Mark frowned. What was this idiot doing? This girl was by far the best candidate they had seen, but he seemed to want to find faults with her performance.

The girl didn’t lose her cool. “My apologies, I said the line as it was written in the book.”

“You can’t possibly know that…”

“Page 283, line 10.”

Peter froze at these words, but Lacy grabbed a copy of the novel from the table and found the page she had cited.

“Wow, she’s right.”

“So she happened to memorize one line, big deal.”

Lacy rolled her eyes. “And how did she know how to memorize that one particular line?”

“Luck.”

The girl spoke up again. “You can pick any page from the book, and I’ll act out Edith’s lines.”

Mark stood up. “There’s no need for us to go this far.”

“Ha. You’re just afraid your little favorite can’t follow through on her boasting.” Peter grinned, snatching the book from Lacy and turning to a random page.

“Peter…”

“It’s fine.” The girl smiled at him, and the director found himself shaking his head ruefully.

“Alright then. Go ahead Peter.”

“Page 102.”

Her smile stayed in place. “I’ll start from the top of the page.” Again the atmosphere changed, she hunched over, clutching her side as if hurt. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with pain, she bit her lip with enough force that Mark was worried that it would start to bleed.

“You think a little hit like that is enough to stop me?” Her voice was so cold that it seemed to chill the air around her.

Peter frowned, obviously wanting to find fault with her acting but unable to.

“Page 68.”

“Page 341.”

One after the other he tested her over and over, and each time she recited the dialogue from the book perfectly. Finally, when he called out a page number, she didn’t speak or act, but simply stood up, glaring at the author.

“What? Can’t you do it?”

Mark sighed as the other man taunted the five year old. Didn’t he realize how foolish he looked trying to bully a little kid?

The girl didn’t flinch. Staring at him silently for a few moments, she shook her head slowly, as if disappointed.

“Edith’s character doesn’t appear on that page.”

“…”

“…”

Peter read down the page and then snapped the book shut with an angry expression.

“Thank you, you may go, we’ll let you know the results shortly.”

Giving him a thumbs up, the girl left the room calmly, taking her stunned parents with her.

“I don’t like her attitude.” Peter snapped out right away.

Lacy stood up, visibly frustrated. “Who cares?!” She threw her hands up in the air. “That child could be the anti-christ for all I care, as long as she can act that well, we have to cast her!”

“But…”

“I think we are all in agreement.” Mark coolly interrupted the author, tired of his absurd excuses. “Candidate 19 will be cast as the main lead.”

Glancing down at his papers to read her information, he smiled. 

“Welcome to the cast, Charlotte.” 

Satisfied, he focused on tidying up his papers and preparing to leave. He felt no need to pay any further attention to the annoying writer.

Later he would regret it. He would wish he had looked over, that any of them had. That they would have studied the odd behavior Peter was showing just a little bit closer. But they didn’t. And so no one in the room noticed when Peter jerked at the sound of the child’s name, his face settling into an uncontrolled expression of rage.

“Congratulations, Charlotte!” When they got the call, her parents were overjoyed, hugging her tightly.

Charlotte grinned back at them, feeling relieved despite her previous appearance of confidence.

I wasn’t sure how much influence Peter would have on the casting. Not much, fortunately.

“You must be so excited! Our little girl is going to be a star!” Her dad swung her around in the air, beaming from ear to ear. “But of course we knew you would get the part!” He set her down. “You were amazing in there? How did you learn to act so well?” His voice betrayed his amazement at his daughter’s talent.

Years of growing up having to lie to survive. Where the difference between someone believing me or not could mean failing to protect Peter… “I must take after you, dad!”

He chuckled at her wide, innocent eyes and charming words. “Shameless flatterer.”

Her mom spoke up. “Like she said, takes after you.”

All three laughed and hugged before finally settling back down into a normal routine. Left to her own devices, Charlottes gaze grew sharp, as she sat in her room, planning.

Initially her plan had been to simply infiltrate the cast of the movie, and ruin it. She hadn’t wanted Peter to profit from his theft. But after reading the script, and meeting some of the staff who seemed genuinely passionate about bringing her story to the screen… she had changed her mind. She would star in the movie, give her characters the performance they deserved, and help this movie succeed. As for Peter… well, it was already fairly obvious that he couldn’t hold up under pressure when it cam to pretending to be the author of the book. With all the attention from a successful movie… and a few helpful hints from her… he would crack.

And when he did, she would be there to make sure everyone knew him for the fraud he was.

Not too long after, it was Charlotte’s first day on the set. Arriving with her father, who looked more nervous than she did, she was immediately greeted by a familiar looking woman.

“Hi Charlotte, I’m Lacy!” She bent down to Charlotte’s level, extending a hand with a smile. Charlotte took it, slightly confused.

“Weren’t you in charge of casting?”

The woman’s smile widened. “Good memory! I’ve decided to stay on scene and assist with coaching the child actors. My background is mainly as an acting coach, so you can depend on me.”

Tilting her head slightly to the side, Charlotte studied the woman carefully. She doesn’t seem to have any bad intentions. Charlotte thought back to when she had seen them all in the audition room, Lacy had been sitting on the opposite end of the table as Peter, almost as if they had been separated, and the writer had often looked over to glare at her as if displeased.

Well the enemy of my enemy…

Pulling her hand back, she tried her best to naturally smile back. “I look forward to working with you!”

“Me too!” Lacy chuckled. “Actually it was your performance at the auditions that made me want to get back into it. I just have a feeling that working with you won’t be boring.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint.”

Lacy led her into a room with several other children. “We’ll start with a read through from one of the scenes on the script, to help all of you get used to working together. Everyone, this is Charlotte, who will be playing Edith, our lead. Come say hi!”

A small group of children crowded over to obediently introduce themselves. Charlotte recognized two familiar faces. “Hey, it’s bully boy and teddy bear girl!”

“My name is Bruce, not bully boy!” The taller, older boy seemed to shrink down under her gaze, his retort muttered towards the ground.

“And I’m Laura!” The little girl grinned widely as she bounced in place nearby, apparently excited to see Charlotte. They both had snagged side character roles, interestingly enough that of a bully and her henchman.

“You’re playing a bully?” Charlotte raised an eyebrow at the timid young girl, who flinched.

“Y-you don’t think I can?”

“Who cares what I think? If you want to play a bully, go all out!” Lightly slapping the little girl’s back, she moved on to greet all the other child actors. Finally, there was just one person left. 

“Hey Charlotte.” The boy in front of her smiled sweetly, his delicate features making him seem vulnerable, needing protection. He stood in front of her, one hand extended out. For a moment, just a split second, his imaged overlapped with another in her memories, causing her to flinch backwards.

“Peter.” The word was whisper, but the boy heard it and was confused.

“No, I’m Brandon. I’ll be playing Jordan.” He shrugged, giving off an even brighter smile. “Guess we’ll be playing best friends.”

He still hadn’t lowered his hand, but Charlotte just stared at it, unwilling to touch him. Now that she looked at him closer, it was easy to tell he looked nothing like Peter as a young boy, but there was something about his expression, the light in his eyes…

He’s the same kind of person, the kind who would smile while he stabbed you in the back. Charlotte found herself wishing she were in a different room.

“What’s wrong? Are you afraid of touching boys are something?- OOF!” Bruce, still standing off to the side, had seen her reaction and teased her without thinking, ending his sentence bent over with her fist in his gut.

“Charlotte, hitting is mean.” Lacy admonished her halfheartedly. She then paused and added. “Strong work on hitting him where the marks won’t show on camera, though.”

Brandon’s smile wavered as he slowly lowered his hand. His mask was near perfect, in the past Charlotte might have fallen for it, and thought him an innocent, friendly boy.

But she knew someone with an even better mask. Compared to Peter, this kid was an amateur at hiding his disdain fro her and everyone around her. She backed away further, not wanting to accidentally touch him.

“Hey” Laura, the small girl from before, grabbed onto her sleeve and whispered in her ear. “Brandon is the executive producer’s son, My mom told me not to make him angry.”

Charlotte didn’t look away from the boy that made her skin crawl. “So?”

“Didn’t your parents warn you about him?” the girl pressed.

“Nope. But that’s okay.” Charlotte’s smile turned cruel. “We’ll just stay out of each other’s way. If he leaves me a alone, then i’ll do the same. But if he’s the kind of person i think he is… then his parents should have warned him about me.”

Arctic Dogs Movie Review/Rant

So... that movie made me come out of Tumblr retirement, eh? 

If you want to see my review of Arctic Dogs, check out my review at: https://boxd.it/10CTln. Otherwise, if you want to continue reading that review on Tumblr, sigh...

Story and Writing: 0/5 Animation: 0/5 Characters and Voice Acting: 0/5 Score and soundtrack: 0/5 Overall Score: 0/20 Rating: Burn in Hell (0/5) Song: "Look Away" by Darude feat. Sebastian Rejman - youtu.be/B5hBZC-SIsE

The lazy movie poster with the Clipart-grade title card (I refused to call it a movie poster) says it all. It's the worst animated movie of 2019.

Arctic Dogs (or Arctic Justice) is what happens when Battlefield Earth, Aloha, United Passions and Norm of the North all gangbang each other to give birth to the ultimate form of animated movie cringe. I had to see it in theatres for a student price of S$6.50 (or $4.70 USD) and I wish I had my 90 plus minutes and that ticket price back. Heck, even I would want my free ticket back if I have one. So, how bad was it? (Spoiler alert: EVERYTHING)

Story and Writing:

Usually, I would put up a small spoiler-free summary of the movie, but I'm gonna go straight to the chase: it's the worst story of all the animated movies in 2019, period. Even worse than Norm of the North 2.

The story offers nothing new and it featured one of the worst, if not the worst animated movie protagonist of recent memory (We'll talk about him later). It also didn't help that because of the terrible 'writing' that was filled with cringe-worthy 'comedy' and a cliche-heavy script with extremely unbearable dialogue that sometimes don't make sense, not to mention the 90 plus minute runtime felt like three hours (yes, I swore I stayed in the theatre for 3 hours). I watched it in a threate (the biggest mistake I have ever made in my entire life) with my best friend and after the first twenty minutes, he gave up and played a video game on his mobile phone.

To call it 'writing' or even 'first-draft writing' is an insult to the art of animated movie writing or lack thereof. It was such an amazement into how this quality of writing was accepted and greenlit for a wide release animated movie, especially when the writers had written the scripts for Escape from Planet Earth and The Nut Job 2!

Animation:

It doesn't help that it's the same studio behind the Norm series that was in charge of the animation and what I saw was incredible: glitchy animation that looked like it was only halfway through production. In addition, the character designs looked bland, the effects cheap and nasty and the background animation non-existent.

Also, character movement, while acceptable, are not well-animated and the fur animation is half-baked. There are times where the dialogue is out of sync with the mouth movements, a clear sign it's a low budget animated movie (and not one with $50 million US dollars).

I may not be an animation student, but even I would be able to pinpoint the many animation flaws within the movie For a movie on $50 million USD, it should have the budget for a decent, generic animation, but I got unfinished C-grade animation, which is an insult even to the price of the student ticket in Singapore, especially when the easiest element to animate, snow, is so artifical I could easily compare it to Norm of the North (which was made by that same studio).

Characters and Voice Acting:

To talk about how terrible Swifty is as a protagonist is going to be the length of a 2,000-word essay (yes, Swifty was such a terible protagonist I have a whole lot to say about him), so I'm going to say this: Swifty is a terrible role model to kids because he takes advantage of someone's misfortunes without caring for the consequences, nor taking a moment to reflect on his actions. TL:DR, he's an egoistic bastard.

Jade, Swifty's love interest, had a terrible accent that also nothing engaging (Heidi Klum, as much of a nice lady she is, should never be allowed to voice act again), PB was fine but nothing special (actually, I take it back, he's the only bearable charater in the entire movie, pun intended), Magda was the Russian-accented caribou (NOT A MOOSE), Lemmy was supper annoying (was Franco smoking weed while voice acting, as per usual?) and the two French conspiracy theorist otters, Leopold and Bertha, were even more annoying (It doesn't help that Leopold was voiced by Omar Sy, a fantastic French actor who doesn't deserve to voice Norm in the French dub of Norm 1, and Berths was voiced by Klum... again, except even worse).

Otto, as the antagonist, was one-dimensional. And his puffins are rip-offs to the minions. I didn't even mention the Top Dogs, particularly Michael Madsen, who instead of cutting people's ears is delivering mail. Great.

What's even worse is the voice acting. What's the point of hiring well-known actors when they not only cannot voice well, but they made their characters even worse and unbearable? Their voice acting is so half assed, it's not even funny. However, at least Cleese did a fantastic job voicing Otto, even if he's a one-dimensional villain.

Score and soundtrack:

The David Buckley score felt obnoxiously grand because of how terrible the movie was in the first place. However, it's the soundtrack that had me at a loss at words... for all the wrong reasons.

There are 5 Renner songs in the first place. FIVE.

While I applaud Renner's efforts (consiering it's not his first time making music, and "Main Attraction" is not a terrible song in spite of it being an Imagine Dragons reject song), the problem is that all his songs were not only out of place, but up the cringe factor of the entire movie. One of my friends (who only listened to the soundtrack) commented that it's such a dissociation from the Renner I knew from Avengers and Arrival.

This is especially so for "Believer", which highlights Swifty's ego and arrogance, so much so that when I listened to the soundtrack on a train ride home, it was so annoying that I thought my newly bought earphones felt broken. No, I'm not kidding. (The earphones are the AKG-tuned Samsung ones you get when you bought a Samsung phone, and this rumoured to cost about $150 in Singapore (I bought an authentic pair for only $20)).

Conclusion:

When I review movies, my policy was to always give movies a constructive review where I talked about the good and bad of the movie and whether enjoyed it. I usually never talked down on movies since the crew behind such movies have worked hard to make them a reality. However, if the movie I'm reviewing is so bad it pisses me off into how incompentent and torturing the movie was, I will call it out. I never sugarcoat my review to make it sound good; for me, the honest truth matters more, especially if there is little to no effort put into the movie at all.

To say this was one of the most unnecessary animated movies of all time was putting it very lightly. This dared to exist in theatres across the world where it should have gone straight to DVD or Netflix in the first place.

A terribly written story that felt broken, cringe-worthy 'comedy', a virtually non-existent script, low-grade animation, a cast of unbearable and forgettable characters and one of the worst sounding soundtracks of all time. It's everything you expect from an animated movie trainwreck that was completely unnecessary and irredeemable.

While this movie is 100% unsafe for regular consumption and most regular folk should stay away, I highly recommend it to those brave enough to venture into the depths of terrible animation, or for a drunk screening because for sure, the cold brew hits.

However, as crazy as I would suggest, if given a choice, I would rather watch this again than Netflix's The I-Land, because I would rather laugh at this movie's incompetence than raging at the many stupid decisions everyone who worked on The I-Land made. So there, it's not the worst thing that came out in 2019, which is the only good thing from the movie.

Gosh, ranting about this nasty delivery makes me tired... Time to return to the Tumblr retirement home... 

Congratulations, Ro! You had me sold when I saw you understood just why I made Wells a wyrth. Not only that, but you have his personality down too. I’m really excited to see what you do with him.

Thanks again for applying! Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the masterlist as soon as you can. Welcome to Foxcroft!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Ro

Age: (16 and over) 26

Preferred pronouns: (if you’re comfortable sharing) He/Him

Time zone: PST

Activity: (include a brief explanation) I’m a pretty dedicated RPer and though my life has gotten crazy busy as I now work in the film industry and am just finishing up my 3rd year University, I still make time for it reliably. During the summer, I will mostly be on on weekends and probably 1 or 2 days a week, depending on if I’m working on set during the week. During the school year my availability is less predictable, so it just depends what we’re doing at the time, but I’ll always find time to be on weekly.

Anything else?: (questions, concerns, etc.)

IN CHARACTER

Full name: Wells Donovan

Date of birth: November 2nd, 1989

How long have they been in Foxcroft: (1-3 sentences. Please be consistent with bio.)Since September of 2016, I think, according to the bio and the timeline of when Adam Foxcroft was found in the swamps. So approaching a year, so far?

Sexuality: (include a brief explanation) Bisexual - Though I think his sexuality is not something he’s explored as openly or frequently until after his sister’s death. Not that he was purposely avoiding it, but I feel like circumstances were such that he was mostly with women in his younger years. Her death, I think, made him crave a freedom that he didn’t know he needed, much like when he took to the road to try to escape his grief.

FC change: (if applicable please include three possible changes in order of preference)N/A

MORE

How do you interpret this character’s personality? How will you portray them? Include two weaknesses and two strengths. (2+ paragraphs) Wells to me is a passionate and loyal individual who, despite being friendly and easy to get along with, is a lot more private and reserved than people think on first impression. I think his outgoing nature makes it difficult for people to see or understand that just because he’s outgoing, doesn’t mean he’s an extrovert. His ‘recharge’ time is when he’s alone or at home, in a controlled environment, and one of the reasons his relationship with his sister was so vital in his life, aside from them being twins, is that she was one of the few people he felt utterly himself and comfortable with at all times. He believes she brought out the best in him, and since her death, has struggled to know exactly who he is without her. His loyalty and pensiveness can make him sweet, at times, and he means well, always. But he is also deeply nested inside his chest, distraught with a loneliness he doesn’t quite know how to handle or deal with. He is extremely protective of those he cares about, and much like his mechanic ways, he is a 'fixer’. He likes to understand problems, especially those of others, and have his hand at assisting in correcting them. He likes to help people. [ strengths: loyal, disciplined, just | weaknesses: stubborn, pessimistic, self-isolated ]

How did this character react to the death of Hazel Abrams? Adam Foxcroft? Wells is naturally contemplative and cerebral. He tends not to react to things heatedly, but with pensiveness. Hazel died before he arrived in the town, and I don’t think he thought that much of it at fist because it makes sense that unexplained deaths would linger as a big deal in small towns where everyone knows each other. But when Adam died, I think that struck Wells with a new sort of suspicion, being able to witness the ripple effect reaction of the town in the aftermath. The fact that Hazel’s case was still unsolved, and that Adam turned up in the same manner, Wells is starting to become suspicious and he knows there is something unique to the town, and that there’s much more than meets the eye. He’s curious and wants to understand what’s going on and what’s behind this little town he’s landed himself in.

How do they see the town and its people? Think about the different groups of people and prejudices the town holds about them. He has a hard time identifying with the problems of the town. His life has involved so much changing and moving around between foster homes, etc, that he has a hard time adjusting to the mentality of people who’ve never known or seen change. Who live so much in fear of it. Regardless, he doesn’t have particularly strong feelings about the church or religion. He was not raised religious, and is a bit too much of a critical thinker to be particularly prone to faith. However, that isn’t to say he doesn’t like the townspeople. When he first moved, he was relatively indifferent, but now he is both drawn to and fears them, in a way. There is something about the town and the people that makes him feel connected to them, yet almost entrapped. He feels a part of something bigger, but he knows there is information just beyond his reach, and for now the puzzle pieces are too scattered and incomplete for him to have a strong grasp on the big picture of Foxcroft.

For non-human characters: What does this character know about what they’ve become? Have they had any experiences that made them aware that weren’t exactly human? Elaborate. Considering the nature of Well’s new 'ability’, it’s not something he noticed right away, and even still he is only just beginning to realize that there might be something going on with him that he can no longer attribute to coincidence or good karma. Due to being a new arrival to the town, and knowing so few people, it took a few months for any circumstance to arise in which he’d accidentally happen upon his healing ability. However, he first noticed it in a way that was more difficult to shrug off, when he was helping a kid up who’d slipped and fallen on his bike just outside the Wicked Wrench. The kid had bloodied up his knees pretty bad, and when Wells was wiping them off with a warm, wet rag, carefully cleaning pebbles form the wound, suddenly it seemed as though the cuts were much less prominent than he’d thought. There was barely any abrasion, and the blood seemed to be coming from a cut so minor, it hardly made sense. He swore just a moment ago it’d been a gash… unless it’d simply been the blood smeared that had made it look that way…. it wasn’t until after the kid had left and Wells had stepped back into the garage that he noticed his own jeans were red at the knees… He doesn’t know what’s going on with him, but somehow, it doesn’t feel like he’s an exception in this town of the unexplained. He feels very much as though whatever is going on, is linked to where he’s currently living, and he’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop. He can feel it coming.

Please include 1-2 possible plots your see for this character (1 paragraph brief explanation for each) I think the fact that he’s a 'healer’ when he didn’t have the power or the chance to save his sister, will wreck him. No doubt that went into the decision making when you made him a wryth. But anyway, that fact is one of the first things that gave me a hit of inspiration for this character. This is probably something that nags at him daily and plagues his nightmares, because it’s bad enough losing your twin and your only anchor in the world, but suddenly obtaining an unforseen power to heal, only it’s too late? I would like to explore this with him extensively, and I can see it kind of breaking him, to a certain degree. Like he could become obsessive with it, to the point of almost putting himself in the hospital, because he’s getting reckless with his healing. I’d also like to explore how it affects his psyche—to have the POWER to heal, but to not be ABLE to because it might kill him is like a certain kind of torture, especially for someone like Wells, and I think that this could really mess him up, and badly affect his relationships and decision making. Connected with that, I can also see him trying to take matters into his own hands to do with getting to the bottom of these mysterious deaths, etc. Partially because he’s desperate for the distraction, to keep himself from thinking about his continued grief, and partially because for some reason he thinks it might give him a sense of relief, that he’s helped or avenged someone, even if it could never bring his sister back.

WRITING SAMPLE

Hiya! So I’m pasting these samples of my writing in because the blogs they used to exist on are private now. Hope that’s okay!  (The one from Derrick is not actually from the account I’m applying from, haha.)

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SAMPLE EXCERPT 1 - Derrick

Everything was oddly lethargic today. Although, perhaps lethargic wasn’t the word. Perhaps a better description would be slow with a false sense of relaxation. A certain kind of conceding to the feeling of sadness that now coated his throat in a gradual, thick drip. Something he was now used to, or getting there, at least; a new phase to the turning down of his mouth. He’d waded through anguish, thrashed through anxiety and now he was treading water warmed by his own movement. Disturbed sand from a distant bottom he could not see churned beneath his feet and made his skin and toes feel gritty. The darkness of the lake he was trying not to drown in remained more or less as impenetrable as ever, but Derrick now found solace in its darkness. Familiarity with his hurt; it was an unlikely friendship they had now, he and pain, but this was the way it was. This was the way it had to be because he would not change anything, should he had ever been given the chance.

He straightened the collar of his shirt in the cracked and crying mirror, its grunge too thick to see through. The tremble of his fingers against his neck was slight this morning, and he took a moment to stroke at the smoothness of his clean shaven skin. The normalcy of it brought him comfort, cleanliness, control.

A control he would not lose again; not this time, and not in this way. He would go downstairs and meet his lawyer for the third time within these walls, shake his hand and thank him for coming. He would find Lukas on the way down, perhaps, and smile like nothing had changed or there had been no clicking of new concepts in his head. Or rather, perhaps that was wrong; perhaps the smile would just be with a new surrendering, to the knowledge that this was the way things were, and the loss of his ignorance would not stop him from picking up where he’d left off. He’d continue with the case, he’d move forward in his complicated relationship with the sociopath he’d never anticipated growing close to. He’d continue with the same ease and intuition as he had while adjusting the cuffs of his sleeve, the same simple fact that was his sorrow. Because these things were what brought him closer to ‘Derrick’, and further from his father. These were the things he clung to, because what world with no one to live for was worth living in?

His love for Oliver made him stronger, his empathy for Lukas, courageous. His dissonance with Allison made him human. And somehow, he would make peace with these things. Because changing them was not an option, had never been.

He left his room, his doubts lingering at his fingers and sticking back on the scuffing of the doorknob like invisible prints. He would not need them today—more accurately, he could not afford them. The click of the latch behind him was the precursor to the click of his shoes down the quiet hall on this otherwise uneventful Saturday. And then, two steps, three steps, there was something similar, an echo of his own departure and he turned around to see black hair, fine limbs looking stiff in even stiffer clothing—a hesitant smirk of disdain and perhaps even what Derrick has come to read as friendly greeting. Well, as friendly as this particular teenage presence got. But Derrick liked that he could recognize it now, the varied levels of Lukas’ often overlooked depth. It was there, just murkier and more challenging to define.

And he smiled. Rose a brow and prepared a sly quip or two about the teen’s cleaned up attire. Because it was familiar. Because it was safe. And because Derrick was tired of wallowing in things he could not, and would not change.

Because if  and when the worst thing he did in this sick and twisted world, was to love too freely, then he could consider himself in a good place. And if he had the capacity to believe in the case that he and Lukas ventured to tackle, he must also have the capacity to embrace what he could not shun. It was the only way. And it was better.

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SAMPLE EXCERPT 2 - NOAH

*TW: mature themes, sexual/violent content* - lemme know if this is an issue and I can send you a different sample!

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As Phoenix ordered Noah onto his hands and knees, muttered in a low and hot command, Noah thought about how dangerous this could be. Having Phoenix move in, be here on the good nights as well as the bad, experience Noah in his extended, uncensored edition. He thought about how unlike him this was, this decision, because having Phoenix around full time meant committing to him in some way. It meant admitting that he was something more than just a random fuck, regardless of what that ‘more’ even meant.

It was dangerous, and he felt sure he would many a time in the future consider this choice to be a lapse in judgement—and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, as much as he wanted to. He wanted to seriously feel like he’d made a mistake, wanted to have that inkling suspicion that this was all wrong because that would then eliminate the risk of Noah’s future let downs. If he regretted it now, he’d be less likely to find himself terrifyingly close to someone three months from now, in a way he hadn’t been in years.

He was pretty sure he wasn’t ready for that. He’d hardly been capable of it even before her death. Felt most times like he hadn’t been wired to function that way.

But nonetheless, he couldn’t bring himself to feel precisely the emotion of regret as Phoenix fucked him raw and without shame into the headboard. As he bent his limbs with the kind of brutal insistence that would leave bruises and sore spots, muscles strained and stretched uncomfortably for the evening and the day following, in the least. He couldn’t gather any feelings that weren’t numbed, ecstatic pleasure, white hot and sharp, as Phoenix pounded him so thoroughly it became difficult to breathe, difficult to tell exactly where inside his body Phoenix wasn’t touching. Because he seemed to be consuming Noah from every end, every angle—burrowing himself inside Noah’s body so deeply and so thoroughly that there was no escaping him, no part of Noah’s narrow, bony frame that went unclaimed by him.

And it was numbing. And it was fucking perfect.

And that’s how he fell asleep that night. Perfectly numbed and completely obliterated with exhaustion—worked to the bone by Phoenix’s nails and teeth and pelvis, worked until there was absolutely nothing left of himself to give and he laid there in a mess of sheets, wrung out and winded, passing out sometime after Phoenix had cum inside him for the second time.

He had a vague memory of the blond leaving breathless kisses on his shoulders, but then the rest sort of faded to black.

He’d slept hard—so hard he hadn’t moved—fell asleep on his stomach with his hands under the pillows, his head turned away from the heat of the man beside him, not by choice so much as by habit. And when he would wake, a few hours later, it would be in the very same position—but it would not be before Noah remembered the way the roof shingles felt textured and rough beneath the heels of his palms, not before he could taste that half-smoked joint on his tongue.

~

They were laughing, again, as they often did, and it was that sort of lazy, rolling chuckle that came from being completely and totally relaxed around a person, as if being with them was equally as natural as breathing. And Noah was leaning back on his elbows, the scratch of the roof almost a comfort purely for its familiarity, and the stars were bright spots in the sky that had been just the same as last night, and the night before that, and the night before that.

And she was talking—she’d talked a lot, actually, and she was the only person whose talking hadn’t bothered Noah in the slightest, maybe because it came out sounding so smoothly to him, like her thoughts were the same as his thoughts, even when they weren’t. She’d had so many wildly different opinions, and even when he hadn’t agreed with them, he’d felt them in some way, as if… as if they’d lived inside a part of Noah too, even when they weren’t his own. They belonged there, too, because they were Kaitlyn’s and because she was as much a part of him as he was of her.

He remembered so vividly; the sound of her laugh and the abrasion of the tar and dried rubber beneath them—and then she was falling, kicked off the roof by some unknown force and he couldn’t reach her, couldn’t stop her, could do nothing to change it other than sit there helplessly and watch as she was torn from him and fell and fell and fell like there was no earth beneath them, no nothing, and suddenly he was falling too, only in the other direction, yanked away from her by the gut at a horrific speed, falling like the very essence of gravity, because his up was now down and no amount of thrashing could stop it, could stop any of it, she was just going, going and going and she would never hit the ground, Noah doomed to watch her fall away from him for eternity.

~

He woke in a sweat and with a gasp that was more like a choke—he didn’t know there were tears on his face until he felt them, sticky and wet against his palms as he tried to quell his heartbeat into something less violent, something less debilitating. He’d shot up, face falling to his hands, sitting bowed and broken-spined away from Phoenix, who he could now hear stirring behind him and this was why, this was why he couldn’t do this, couldn’t have this because he would always be this—this barely functioning toy marked 'as-is’ whirring and stopping and going and ticking in unmediated tempos, half-hazard patterns, and he couldn’t bare the fact that he was a cracking shell, somewhere between empty and overflowing, and that the young blond would get to watch his crumbling, night after night after night after fucking night, and he couldn’t fucking do this—

—he couldn’t breathe, either.

It was like his chest was gasping for air but each swallow was pulsing back into a curved spine, bouncing off ribs and ricocheting back out. Leaving Noah with no oxygen, no air, and he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t function and he’d been here before, time and time again and he usually waited until the worst of it passed before willing himself onto wobbly legs to get himself water. Run his head under the tap when he couldn’t manage anything more. But Phoenix was there and Noah was not, he was gone, somewhere far away, tangled and choking and compressed and every movement was an ache, every slight, an ignition for his head to spin so fast he thought he might puke and he just needed air and maybe then, if his God damn lungs would start fucking working for fuck’s sake, he would be able to get to the part where he could deal with the crying bit—that is, stop it a-fucking-mmediately. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t do that until he caught his God damn breath, and with every moment he was more awake but no more coherent, no more capable.

All because he’d been forced to remember, when all he wanted was to forget.

_____

EXTRA [THIS SECTION WILL NOT INFLUENCE ACCEPTANCE]

How would you feel about this character dying?: (In this roleplay there is always the possibility of death, and as an admin I’d like to know who is and who isn’t comfortable with this ahead of time.)

I’m mostly pretty uncomfortable with it, because I get excruciatingly close to my characters, and the idea of them getting killed off really freaks me out. I get pretty vulnerable with the characters I write. That being said, if for whatever reason in the future, I was interested in switching characters but staying in the RP, I’d consider it? But that depends, because I have a hard time with personal character deaths haha.

Why did you choose this character?:

I connected with Wells immediately, partly due to the fact that I’ve written a character in a very similar situation as him before. Admittedly, they have very different personalities, and I’d neverdream of playing them the same way, but still, it was a character who is nestled desperately deep in my heart, so I connected with Wells’ story quickly. Also, I connect with his sense of loneliness, and his independence. His desire to just drive and see where the road takes him. Function on impulse getting from gas station to gas station and make up the rules as he goes along. He strikes me as someone who is strong and loyal and someone who people like to be around because of this, but underneath he carries this darkness with him that he hasn’t yet properly faced. The layers and potential in his bio and his story truly inspire me <3

Extras: (pinterest boards, mock blogs, aesthetic posts, drabbles, etc.) N/A at the moment, sorry my dear! I’d do some up, but I really want to get my app in tonight and I have a bunch more homework to get to before bed!

How did you find us?: (certain roleplay tags, friend referral, etc.) In the literate rp tag I think! And a looooooot of scrolling to find something worthwhile. Then TADA. Paradise :)

A First Time for Everything Ch. 1

Rating: T

Words:3097

Warnings: none

In a moment of weakness Crowley found himself falling into the arms of a human. The consequences of his actions catch up with him as he not only learns how to be a father, but how to give and receive love the human way.

Basically Crowley fucked up and now he and Aziraphale are utterly incompetent parents to a half demon baby. 

Crowley held the infant in his arms, brushing the soft black curls from her head. His tongue absentmindedly flicked and made a soft hissing sound. He was unsure how long he had been looking at the baby but the downy grey feathers on tiny wings confirmed his parenthood. Crowley had hardly believed it when he got the call. He remembered Sue; they’d had a run in nearly a year ago. It had been the night Aziraphale had given him the holy water, Crowley had launched himself into a self destructive binge, going to bar after bar.

He and Sue had seen each other around, she did crimes, he was a demon, it was bound to happen. She’d listened to Crowley talk about Aziraphale for hours without complaint. Something about her reminded him of Aziraphale, someone selfless enough to just listen for hours. (Or in Aziraphale’s case centuries.) He found himself in bed with her, which as a rule he didn’t do, he wasn’t that kind of demon. Sue had been the next best thing to what he really wanted; however, the person he really wanted was half way across London by now and had no interest in seeing him. 

And what a shock it was when he got a call from the Catholic hospital outside of Liverpool that one Sue White, had named him the father of her baby before her unfortunate passing, and that he’d better hurry down soon. He’d assumed she’d mistakenly named him on the birth certificate, she couldn’t have known any better. He figured he wouldn’t get in too much trouble with hell for arranging for her funeral expenses to be paid and the baby to be adopted. Crowley had a soft spot for her and figured that it was least he could do for the poor confused woman, especially knowing what where she was going was like. 

There was no doubt in Crowley’s mind that he would arrange for the child to be swiftly taken away and then he could wash his hands of the whole situation. Demons, or Angels for that matter, couldn’t reproduce. Demon children were just a human legend; an excuse to kill deviant individuals and witches. As was such, Crowley was in for quite a shock when he saw the child; unmistakably occult. This was going to be a much bigger ordeal than he had thought. Starting with the staff. They’d been fretting over the child, debating if removing the wings would be the best course of action, when Crowley waved a hand, erasing their memories all the way back to when the mother had arrived.

With a second snap he’d taken care of everything. Well almost everything that is. There was still the glaringly obvious, kicking, screaming problem laying in the back seat of the Bentley. “Shit! Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” Crowley swore and pounded his fists on the hood of the car until small specks of blood had worked their way through the skin on his knuckles. He obviously ensured his beloved vehicle incurred no damage during his temper tantrum. Crowley wondered what he had done beyond his fall from heaven that had made him deserve this shit storm. He’d found himself driving the Bentley as fast as it would go back to London, the child tucked neatly under one arm.

“Oh dear, it looks like we are in quite the pickle.”

“Aziraphale. It much more looks like a pickle that I have worked myself into,” The demon put emphasis on the word, mocking Aziraphale. “You can certainly ask me to leave with this if you would like. I’m not even sure why I came to you. Certainly this is moving to fast for you.”

“What, and let you kill the thing?”

Crowley lifted his gaze from the child to the angel standing across the room, his yellow eyes blinking slow. The look he gave Aziriphale was incredulous, “You really think I’d kill my own child? Rather morbid isn’t it Angel? I might be a demon but I’m no monster.” Crowley’s usual sarcastic humor fell flat in the moment.

“No of course not Crowley! But my dear boy, it does seem that this is an unprecedented situation. And besides, it’s not like you have a lot of experience with,” Aziraphale waved his hand in the direction of the infant. He began pacing the bookstore for something that might be relevant. “What will you do about the mother? Certainly she had family.”

“I miracled her a nice resting place, Angel. She wasn’t on speaking terms with her mother, and her father is long dead.”

Aziraphale was surprised by the level of care Crowley seemed to put into the issue. The demon rarely bothered to learn names let alone stories. Aziraphale felt simultaneously warm towards Crowley and an ugly feeling welling up in his chest. Angels don’t get jealous, but it would seem that Aziraphale was an exception.

Crowley couldn’t think of anything to do but to go to Aziriphale, despite the hurt he still felt at his rejection. It’s not like there was anybody else in heaven or hell that would help him out of this one. He’d truly fucked himself this time. How could this have happened, and how the hell was he going to hide this. He continued to stare at the child, turning her over, as if inspecting a strange rock or coin. He brushed his fingers over her back vaguely thinking that he’s glad she didn’t get his eyes. Indeed they were yellow, but not the snakish slits of his own eyes, they were round and a muted tone. If it were not for the wings she could almost pass for human. Almost.

Crowley listened to Aziraphale’s pacing suddenly come to a halt. He flipped through a few more pages before coming to a conclusion. “Well. My resources have only confirmed what we knew to be true already,” Aziraphale bit the nail on his thumb, stumbling over his words. “So Sue was a human,” Crowley nodded, urging him to continue, “And you are a demon.”

“Last time I checked I was an aardvark,” Crowley said it without thinking, but it still brought a small smile to the angel’s face.

“Oh haha. Very funny,” he gave a look to the side one might call an eye roll. Aziraphale definitely wouldn’t call it that. “It would appear that only god can create an ethereal being, or in this case occult. So therefore, this has to be part of the ineffable plan.”

“Angel, it’s all part of the ineffable plan that’s the point. What we need to know is the why and the how of this ineffable fuck up.”

“Well, that’s where it gets a bit hairy. It seems that somehow you’ve broken that rule.”

“S’ not like it’s a first for me, breaking rules.”

Aziraphale considered his words carefully before speaking, “Yes. For some reason or another, the almighty decided that rule doesn’t apply to you. Or you are more powerful than we think. Either way it would seem that she decided this needed to happen. Reasons unknown.”

“Right right, moving in mysterious ways, talking to no one. Either way it would seem I’m not your average aardvark.” Crowley raised the child to eye level speaking to it more so than Aziriphale, “Well. What now?”

“You should probably name her. We can’t call her ‘the infant’ forever.”

“I meant what are we going to do about our respective head offices,” He quickly changed the topic back to more urgent matters, “Again you should not be involved in this. I shouldn’t have come to you with this, I’m sure that this is one hundred percent going too fast for you and not something I deserve help on,” the angel made a tutting sound, like he was going to interrupt. “Listen Angel. I got my self into this situation and it would probably be the good thing to leave me deal with it or even tell yours, or mine, or whoever about this.”

Aziriphale didn’t let Crowley get in another word, “No. Maybe the holy thing would be to leave you, to tell, oh whoever. The good thing would be to help you, and help this person who had no part in this and does not deserve whatever might happen if I do the holy thing.” Aziraphale picked up the child holding it at arms length, in a position that would most certainly at least injure a human baby.

“Aziraphale. You could fall for this,” the tone of the room shifted at that.

“For what? Protecting an innocent child? Helping my friend of 6,000 years? Someone who has performed nearly as many miracles as I.”

“For helping a demon! Two demons!” He couldn’t help the edge to his voice, as he moved to take the wriggling half-demon back from him.

“And how is this any different from what I did in the garden? Giving my sword to protect that couple. In my eyes this is no different, I’m sure the almighty would agree,” he maintained his hold on the girl, bringing her closer, “As it is, part of the ineffable plan.” Crowley merely blinked at him, shocked at the fierceness in the Angel’s voice. 

Just as Aziraphale placed her on his shoulder he made a disgusted face, handing her back to Crowley. “It would seem she’s, uh, defecated.” Crowley laughed, until she was close enough for him to smell.

Nearly 2 hours, and several parenting books later an angel and a demon had a trolley full of everything on offer for babies. Aziraphale had insisted on getting one of everything, just in case. Crowley had slapped some clothes on the kid straight from the rack, much to the upset of the shocked manager. “Oh relax we’re going to pay for them,” he snapped in the direction of the poor person. They’d managed to make it to the register with only one crying episode from the infant; Aziraphale had managed to calm the child simply by taking it from Crowley and gently speaking to it about nonsense. If you asked Crowley it hadn’t hurt his feelings. That would be a lie.

Crowley ripped the tags off the baby clothes, handing them to the cashier as she added up their total. He miracled the the correct amount into his wallet before handing over the cash. Crowley loaded the car full, as Aziraphale sat in the front seat, holding the child awkwardly, still speaking in that tone, lest the child start another crying fit. So far Crowley had been a father for less than 6 hours and he has learned exactly one thing. And that was, that he is not good with children.

Yellow eyes flicked back and forth between the diagram and what he was doing. He tried again, folding the cloth slightly different this time. “Oh angel there’s no use. It’s like doing origami.” Crowley looked smug as he added on, “That’s one of the ones I invented you know.” Crowley threw down the pins he had been holding, giving up. “Why can’t I just,” he snapped his fingers, pantomiming a miracle.

“My dear, do you plan on miracling her diapers on every time? That would be rather suspicious to both our parties,” Aziraphale took another look at the diagram before reaching around Crowley to try for himself. He folded one left, and then right, and then down; and it was too loose around the legs. Aziraphale’s lips fell into a frown.

Crowley fought back a laugh, “See it’s not as easy as it looks!” The demon looked down at his daughter, her yellow eyes blinking up at him, tiny fist waving slightly. He didn’t understand how Aziriphale could connect with her so easily. Maybe he was incapable because, well, he was a demon after all. But if that was it, how could Aziraphale connect so easily with her when she was half demon herself. Not that Aziraphale had trouble connecting with demons in the first place, his Angelic love for others seemed to have no limits, unlike other angels. 

Crowley held her up again, admiring his work. It actually stayed up this time, no gaps, and it even looked like the picture. Kind of. Aziraphale beamed at him, holding up an outfit to put on her. “Oh that! No way.”

“What? I thought it looked rather sporting.”

“Dungarees?” Crowley looked positively affronted by the suggestion, “Really Aziraphale? Dungarees? On a demon?”

“Half demon. And a baby at that!” He said pointedly, putting the clothes back in the bag and trading Crowley for the baby, “What’s your suggestion then?”

The demon rifled through the bag, frowning at the options. “Don’t you think these are all rather,” there was a pause as he looked up, “Bright?”

“Well I’m sure they didn’t have a demon’s sensibilities in mind when creating a line of clothing for human infants.”

“Ah... well. This one should do then,” Crowley pulled back out the dungarees and matching shirt with a sigh.

Aziraphale gave a satisfied smirk,  handing back Crowley’s daughter in exchange for the dungarees. He touched the small wings, looking back at the clothes. “Let me just make a few adjustments. Do you have any thread and a needle?” Crowley sighed and led him to a drawer in the kitchen. 

Aziraphale watched Crowley walk back to the living room, a fondness growing in his heart at the sight of the demon so concerned about somebody else. An uneasy feeling set over him; this was going to be very, very difficult to keep secret. Although the conditions weren’t ideal he had to admit he was glad to see the Bentley pull up outside of the bookstore. He’d doubted he’d see Crowley for at least another century, and had started to regret turning down his offer. He had certainly returned the demon’s feelings, but did not share his intrepid qualities. Heaven checked in much more than hell did.

Crowley sat on the sofa laying the baby beside him. Between the adrenaline and how much fun he was having making fun of each other with Aziraphale, he nearly forgot how absolutely fucked he was, just how little he knew and just how scared shitless he was. He looked over at the crib, Aziraphale had allowed him to miracle that one. He had been so lost in thought he hardly noticed Aziraphale returning with the altered clothes.

As soon as Aziraphale slid the clothes onto her and gently pulled her wings through the new holes she began to cry, face turning beat red. “Oh dear,” He held her up, looking to Crowley for guidance. Crowley merely stuttered and made some strange noises in response. “I think it’s the clothes, maybe they’re not fitting right. The books say they cry when they need something or are uncomfortable.” The angel tested his theory, taking off the dungarees. The screaming was unrelenting. “Oh dear,” Aziraphale repeated, handing the child back over to Crowley.

After about 3 hours of trial and error, an angel and a demon had a still screaming child, and some very angry neighbors. Not that any of Crowley’s neighbors would ever be brave enough to knock on Crowley’s door, let alone tell him off.

Aziraphale wiped the sweat from his brow, sitting down on the sofa. His eyes drifted to where Crowley was frantically rocking the child back and forth. “I dunno angel. I really dunno what it is,” he looked at Aziraphale with desperate, pleading eyes.

Aziraphale continued rifling through the items they’d gotten earlier in the day. Picking up a can labeled ‘formula’, and quickly reading over the back. “This is the only thing we haven’t tried. If it doesn’t work I may consider smiting the child.” Aziraphale made it as directed and held the cup up to the baby’s lips, immediately spilling it on her, causing an increase in the volume of the screaming, if that was at all possible.

“Oh angel! That can’t be right. Read the directions again,” Crowley sounded exasperated as he spoke, and replaced the child’s clothes.

Aziraphale came back with the formula in a different container. This time when he held it up to the baby’s lips she took it immediately. Crowley looked at Aziraphale with wide eyes and mouthed out ‘yes!’, pumping his free fist in the air. After what seemed like only a few seconds the infant’s eyes began to drift closed and Crowley set her in the crib, taking a few extra seconds to view his daughter. He heard Aziraphale praising the creativity of the human invention of baby bottles in the background.

He flopped down onto the sofa next to the angel. “Aziraphale we are so fucked. Is it too late to consider a smiting?”

Despite laughing at Crowley’s joke, he took on a more serious tone, “Crowley you’re the one who got yourself into this mess. It’s part of the ineffable plan so there’s no use trying to change that.” Aziraphale chuckled slightly, “Plus a smiting would certainly draw our superior’s attention to us.” He couldn’t resist the urge to slide a comforting hand onto the demon’s knee. 

Crowley looked to where Aziraphale’s hand rested, he laughed, supporting his head with a hand. “I was thinking about Angela.”

“As the name for the baby?”

“No as a new name for myself.” Crowley rolled his eyes and then looked to Aziraphale, “Yes as the name for the baby. What d’ya think?”

Aziraphale considered it for a moment, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at her. “I like it. Angela. It’s a bit witchy though innit?”

“Yeah. Sue was always on the witchy side though; she would have liked it.”

“Not very demonic. Angela doesn’t really inspire fear. Quite the opposite really.”

“What would you name her then? Crawly?” Crowley’s words dripped with more hurt than he’d like to admit.

“Angela is nice Crowley. And a middle name?” He looked over expectantly.

“I can barely come up with my own middle name why don’t you do it?” Crowley got up to pour them some wine, and leave Aziraphale to think on it.

“What about Eleanor? Never met a bad Eleanor,” He took the wine with a curt ‘thank you’ before looking to Crowley to continue their conversation.

“Of course you’d pick Eleanor!” Crowley laughed taking his seat.

“What?” Aziraphale wanted to know what exactly was so funny about him choosing Eleanor. He’d asked for his opinion hadn’t he?

“It’s just traditional. Anyways it’s great. It’ll do just fine.”

Aziraphale tipped his glass forward to clink with Crowley’s, “To Angela Eleanor Crowley.”

The start of a journey that i swore i started a year ago...

I remember when i was a little girl i always used to envision myself as a successful early 20′s aged woman. I had it all planned; i would have a dream job (preferably a famous singer or a vet), a loving and incredible husband who was as attractive as any male model in a magazine, a big house in the country with all the crops and animals i could ever want...and of course AT LEAST one child.

Unfortunately my view of the future from age five to eleven was very very innocent and whimsical. 

In truth my adulthood could be much much much worse. I have a roof (that isn't mine but it works) over my head, a full time job at a business my family recently bought into, and i have been married to a wonderful man for just over a year. And while I have succeeded in keeping my head above water, and we have at least started the process on getting a lot of the adult necessities of life...we have not had children. 

The problem with this is for me is as i got older i came to the conclusion i could live without being married, i could live without a significant other...but i could never ever NOT BE A MOM. But unfortunately the universe has started to make me wonder if that is where my life is heading. My husband and I started trying for kids before we were married, we figured at the time we had the money, a house we were renting that had plenty of space, and a decent amount of time on our hands soooo...why not? A year passed though and during wedding planning things with my body...began to change. for several months i did not get a period, and at first i thought i could be pregnant and maybe just getting a lot of false negatives? but then one day i got my period, and well...it didn't stop. For months upon months i bled and bled to no end, my cramps went away after awhile and the bleeding lightened up but it was still there, sometimes with the occasionally few days breaks. I went to my gynecologist (one who i’m very comfortable with, and who also has a cool Russian accent) and he said it was probably my weight or some sort of PCOS (poly cystic ovarian syndrome) symptom. None the less my Pap Smear came back perfect, and i tried to lose weight. Of course for someone who has always had a bad relationship with junk food that was difficult, even with the threat of vaginally bleeding forever and not fitting into my $550 wedding dress when wedding day came. I managed to get my weight down by about 10 lbs a month or 2 before the wedding which at the time put me at around 240-250 lbs. That’s still pretty bad even with my tall stature(5 ft’ 10 in). 

Not long after the wedding though i began to pack the pounds back on, no thanks to all the sweets and cake left over from said wedding. Some how though in that time i managed to ovulate. And although the egg did fertilize and did attach between the bleeding and other things, i suffered a very early miscarriage. My husband took this very hard and i tried to hide how badly i was taking it, and part of hiding it involved even more unhealthy eating habits. 

At my heaviest i weighed 278 lbs. We also had to move out of our comfortable house because my husband lost his job due to the business shutting down just before thanksgiving. So just before Christmas we moved in with my father in law and not long after my brother in law followed suit. My weight did go down but generally stayed around 270-265 lbs...

We still tried though. Despite the bleeding and the stress and uncomfortable living situations we continued to try. looking back this wasn't smart but i was desperate. Especially due to the fact that a close friend had just given birth to her second child, and another friend and his fiance, a few months after that (they were under the impression that she had a 1% chance of getting pregnant), announced their pregnancy joys. 

My husband did eventually get a really nice phlebotomy job that he loves, comes with benefits, and pays well, but we are still to this day in his fathers house, as we struggle to save to buy our first home (we are still paying off past debts so saving has not been possible until this month and its still slow going). I am currently looking for a second job to help with this. Though i will admit we had to stop trying for kids a few months ago because i just couldn't take the stress on top of all of my other stressers (Money, living situation, job stuff, family issues, wanting to shove a cheese grater up my slug of a brother in laws ass). 

I will add though that i have recently gone to see my gynecologist and started  a new diet about a month ago and have already lost 17 lbs! The bleeding since then has actually started to stop and i will hopefully begin to have normal periods within a few months, though i do have an ultrasound coming up to make sure i have no internal uterine damage. 

Husband and i will be resuming baby dancing here soon and i’m glad because i am bound and determined to get pregnant naturally. And while i figure writing all this down will help me in finding my way back to a fertile state, i figure maybe i can help someone else out there like me.

So to anyone who may read this, I am here for you in your Trying to conceive journey. I am here for your weight loss journey, and i’m here for any life journey you might need me here for, even if just as someone to lean on. You are not alone. We will get there. 

What A Day...

Today, the two darkest spots in my world collide. Today is smack in the middle of National Infertility Awareness Week. A week where I’m both overwhelmed with support and saddened to see just how many people are affected by this awful curse. But, today gets even harder than that. Today is also the two year anniversary of losing my dad. If I were to name the two things that bother me the most, it would be losing dad and being forever haunted by the fact that he’ll never get to know our kids, and this ugly infertility train that we’re still stuck on. Bringing these two worlds together is painful. My heart hurts. I sat in the car this morning, when I realized the date, and just watched the tears flow down my face. I sat right there in the parking lot for a solid 20 minutes, just watching makeup stream down my face, cursing myself for bothering to wear any, and wishing I could go back to bed. It’s a cloudy day, and that seems appropriate. On my phone I have a voicemail from dad, that has been there for now more than 2 years. It’s dad calling, just asking me to call him back, starting with the, “Hello Jo, whaddya know?” that started every call from him, whether I answered or not. I can still hear his voice saying it to me, and it still makes me smile just like it used to when he said it for real. My sister used to always say that I was dad’s favorite, and it drove her nuts. She called me, “the golden child,” and swore that, as far as he was concerned, I could do no wrong. I fought it, trying to assure her that she was ridiculous, but at the end of the day, he’d even admitted to me at one point that I was probably his favorite, at least in some ways. I was the Vice President of the National Honor Society and the first of his kids to graduate from college, and he was an educator. I was sarcastic and outgoing. I was, in a lot of his favorite ways, the most like him of the three of us. He was a teacher for nearly 40 years. It was, far and away, his passion. The sun rose and set with his students, and nothing but death could have pulled him away from that classroom. I remember him looking at me and the person who is my best friend to this day. The person who was maid of honor in our wedding, and who is my go-to whenever I need a shoulder, opinion, or have a funny story. She’s to me in friendship what my husband is in marriage. But that day, all those years ago (we’re going back 15+ for this one), when she was sitting with me at some family celebration at grandma and grandpa’s (who accepted her, happily, as one of their own…presence in the family photo albums included) and we were debating something (likely entire and utter nonsense…equally likely involving movie quotes of some sort) and dad said, “I could watch these two argue all day. There’s just something so great about watching two smart people debate just for the sake of debating, and walk away laughing and still best friends. I could watch this all day.” He loved her, too. Somehow, though, all of us are just like him in our own way. My sister was his first born, and absolutely has his stubborn streak, that you could not bend if you had a crane and wrecking ball much less ever come close to risk breaking. My brother was his boy…his only son. He has his frugality, temper, protective nature, and low tolerance for BS…but also his sense of humor, love for the classics, and he looks and sounds so much like him (patchy hair and all). I remember those days that everyone has where they complain about their parents. They point out all of the things that you feel, in your infinite, pubescent wisdom, that they’re getting wrong. They’re not nice enough, lenient enough, generous enough, cool enough, etc. But now, as an adult, trying to make my way through life with a different set of experience behind my eyes (at times this admittedly seems to work more like swimming in cement than walking), I have a bit more jaded of an outlook, and I see that they were doing the best that they could. They struggled nearly every day of our lives to make sure we had the life that they wanted for us. Knowing how I feel about things now, I can’t even imagine how hard it had to be to for my parents to watch my brother be the devil-may-care Evil Kenevil that he was, driving too fast, taking every risk, and not caring at all. He ran at full speed everywhere that he went, screaming like a lunatic, and waving a stick in the air. He was 100% all boy, and he played the part well. My sister was quiet, but not to be ignored. She loved to read, always wanted to be outside, going somewhere, doing something (and she’s still like this today). Then there was me…smack in the middle. I was everything that the reputation of a stereotypical middle child comes from. I both wanted the attention and wanted to blend in. I care too much what people think, and I both idolized my big sister, and thought I had every right to be a junior parent to my baby brother. But they worked as hard as they had to to make sure we had a roof over our head, clothes on our back, and went to private school. God was always a priority in our lives. I remember being carted off to church every Saturday night for 5:00 mass, watching mom sing, and eventually listening to dad preach. He was a gifted preacher, and his homilies were something that left a mark on anyone there to listen. He was a lot like his brother, in that way. I remember that mom used to joke and call me “mother hen,” when I would boss my brother around, which brings me back to the other awful aspect that I find myself in the middle of. From as long as I can remember (and before then, even), I couldn’t get enough of babies. I had more dolls than anything else, and more of them (or things for them) was all I wanted. I actually still have the doll that I was given as a toddler, stored in plastic bag with the bib from the day that I was baptized and the baby blanket that my grandma made me. They’re among my most prized possessions…and every single one of them, you guessed it, is baby-centric. In my head, I think all the time about how from the time I was a tiny girl, all I wanted to do was be a mom. When I played games, I needed nothing more than a doll and my imagination. I would wrap them in blankets, make mom buy me preemie diapers (so I could practice changing them, of course), and they had beds, strollers, car seats, outfits…they were absolutely my babies. My sister and I would play house, and we’d each have a baby and one room of the house would be our little play house…and those are among my absolute favorite memories. I remember my first (and second) Cabbage Patch Kid, and to this day I wish I would have kept them. Every doll had a name, and a story, and they were people to me. They were my world…and my desire to be a mom has only gotten stronger with time. It’s truly all I have ever wanted. I knew back when I was innocent and not scarred by the battle that we’ve been through up to this point that I would be a mom. It was never a question. It was a matter of when, never if. Those insecurities, doubts, and fears have come with the ups and downs that all we’ve been through leave a person with. And here we are today…day 4 of National Infertility Awareness Week…and the latest on the never ending saga that is our journey to parenthood. We’re still walking the path, but hopefully we’re nearing the top of the hill. A couple of weeks ago was cycle day 1 of the third cycle since Clomid left me with crazy hyperstimulated ovaries, and we were officially given the all clear to slowly start trying to incorporate Letrozole into our protocol! This month we started with a very, very low dose of 2.5 mg for cycle days 3-4-5 and I will go for blood work 7 days after I ovulate to check levels and see how I respond. We’re praying this is the answer for us, but if it’s not, we hope it at least gives us great direction, because we do thing we’re at least finally on the right course. So, my friends…we will take all the prayers we can get in hopes that this month is finally it for us, and that come new year we’re birthing a baby into our family. Dad…I miss you every single day. It still seems weird and unnatural that you’re gone. I still think to myself that there are stories I want to tell you. I still worry more about making you proud than probably anyone else. I hope that you agree that it’s time to send us our babies…we’re so ready for them. I’m begging you, dad…it’s been long enough. Please…you have a lot of pull, and you impacted so many lives…I know you can make things happen up there. Let’s get this ball rolling. We’re down here waiting…waiting to tell them all about you. To show them pictures, and tell them stories, and laugh and cry and everything that comes with trying to make someone that never got to meet you truly know what they’re missing. They’ll know you enough to recognize you immediately when they get back to Heaven someday. You’re always in our hearts, in our thoughts, in our prayers, in our home, and in our lives…we just wish you were in our line of sight, too. I love you, and thank you for being who you were to us.