#somehow ive had this in my drafts for forever? and have just not posted it????

[weakly-skoodge]

Week Forty Seven!

“Huff…”

At least it’s still nice to be able to stand off to the side and watch. Even as infuriating as Earth is, and how infuriating it can sometimes be to see Zim get stuck in his routine… it’s somehow simultaneously refreshing, for Skoodge to be watching him.

While some aspects of Zim have changed over the years, shifted to better adapt to his environment, his personality has remained almost unchanged. The thing that draws people in – or away – the most, that has been relatively consistent his entire life.

Loud, bossy, pushy, captivating…

… Everything he has been, even way back in the education plugs.

It wouldn’t be too big of a stretch to say that Skoodge is still as absolutely charmed by those same eccentricities as he was centuries ago – even after being separated from them.

“Come now, Skoodge! I know you can do better than that!”

Even if those eccentricities might end up killing him one day. At least with Zim, Skoodge knows that getting killed by him will be more incidental, rather than malicious. Zim tends not to be aware of the radius of chaos that’s always surrounding him.

A shaky wheeze wriggles its way out from his flabby throat. “I’m trying – hhng – my hhhuhardest –”

“Your hardest is clearly not hard enough.” Zim clicks his tongue. “Here, let me.”

Steps sound out in the grass, taken just outside of Skoodge’s field of vision.

Two tiny hands make themselves known as they grasp along his backside, the abrupt sensation causing him to jolt in place.

“– Whuh-at are you–?”

Cccrr-RA-ck-CK!

Skoodge goes limp, stuck in a half-bent position from his failed attempt at touching his toes. His hands hang below him. He can’t feel his spine.

He wheezes. It sounds hollow and utterly dead.

Zim hums. Skoodge can’t look up to see it, but he’s almost certain that the other is stroking his chin in some provoking thought. “Eh. That did nothing. You really are dookie at this, Skoodge.”

Skoodge would love to bite back with some equally sardonic remark – perhaps something that could really give Zim pause. Something along the lines of not all of us can be built like tiny little pretzels, Zim. But, unfortunately for him – or maybe, fortunately – all of his mouth functionality has been lost along with what used to be his back. He can’t even groan without risking more burning, searing pain to shoot its way through his body.

These morning stretches are not meant for an irken with Skoodge’s build. But Zim always insists on doing them right before a big scheme. Different from his regular ones. Doing these today means that something is coming, very, very soon.

Not soon enough, Skoodge thinks. He doesn’t really know what the special occasion is. Not yet at least, since Zim was so insistent on not spoiling the surprise – and Skoodge won’t get to knowing any time soon.

All he can really do now for the next hour or two is stare at the ground and his belly, and at his hands hanging limp, still unable to reach his feet, until his spine regenerates.

Terrible. Cruel.

This is like that Earth ‘Hell’. His own highly specific form of torture. Repentance for his crimes.

Eh. At least he’s not starving. Or dead. He could always be dead!

… He’s pretty sure he’s thought that very specific thought a lot of times, already.

… Well, that’s only because it still holds true!

Yup! Mhmm! I love being not dead! And not suffering too, preferably, but hey! Beggars can’t be choosers!

He’s pretty confident he got the saying right, that time. He mentally pats himself on the back for it, well aware that he can’t actually do it thanks to his current predicament. The still lingering pain tingles that occasionally shoot throughout his body serve as helpful reminders not to move. Aah. Refreshing.

#somehow ive had this in my drafts for forever? and have just not posted it???? #EDIT: IT WAS IN MY DRAFTS CAUSE I ALREADY POSTED ALL OF EM #switching it out for writing #oops! #written skoodge #weekly skoodge

[whyareweallawakerightnow]

Monday Blues

I had a dream. Not a fun or exciting dream. A sad dream. We were all at a water park, like a spring, and he brought someone. I hated the feeling I felt. The feeling of someone else being with him. I know I'm suppose to feel like this, because it just happened, but god it feels bad. I wanted to kill her. And him. I wanted to kill her. I didn't even want to kill P's baby mama turned wife. Why does it feel this way?

I felt like the dream never ended. It felt like it went on forever. I felt my heart being ripped out of my chest, forever. I didn't wake up to any messages. Nothing. I took some pictures last night and put them on instagram. Somehow whatever I put on instagram is ending up on Facebook. I didn't realize until I went on Facebook and had 25 notifications. He was one of them. He liked my post. I wanted to throw up. I mean I wanted him to like it and see it, but I guess I'm just use to him hearting them. I was upset he didn't heart it. Why would he though.

This whole thing makes me sick. I was suppose to work this morning but my clients kid was sick. She wanted to bring him with her?? Im like umm no thanks. We can reschedule. I was relieved. I need to work, I need money and I was relieved. I hate this. I hate this. I cannot say that enough. I fucking hate this.

What am I going to do today? I have zero plans, zero money, and zero energy. I hope this funk ends soon.

I made a tik tok last night. I finished a draft I started 2 years ago. It got a lot of likes and comments, more than I was expecting. Very soon. I was like wtfffff. People were very nice in the comments. I was getting major anxiety.

I need to order Nespresso pods. Did I tell you I bought another Nespresso machine? I did. It was on sale and smaller than my last one, I actually paid more for this one than I did the last one but whatever I guess. Ive been making a latte everyday, so I'm running out of pods. They're just so expensive, which is why I got rid of the last one. So why did I buy another one? Who freaking knows.

I want to make a shein order. But I don't have any money. I can use affirm, but do I want to add another payment every month? When I already hate the ones I have. I want to win the lottery and just buy shit that will make me happy. Move somewhere that will make me happy. Be someone who makes me happy. I hate that money dictates that but it does. I hate everything nowadays. I really do.

I don't know what to do or feel or say. Im just sad all the time now.

[belovedrival]

“It’s Jonas.”

It’s been almost six months but I did say I would talk about my experience, so here goes...

(It’s really long, I started this draft when Jonas was three months old)

I was told that I would be induced on March 10, a Wednesday. My due date was the 17th but baby had been measuring large for months so my doctor just wanted to go ahead with it. I agreed. We’d made it to 39 weeks and that was good. Plus, I felt huge and just...done with being pregnant. 

I worked (from home) on the 10th. It felt sort of surreal, knowing that we’d be at the hospital at 5 pm that evening, but I knew I needed to work to keep my mind off what was coming. For a while, at least. 

We’d started packing the hospital bags for weeks before. I’d left my suitcase open next to the bed and I’d throw things in there whenever I’d do laundry or think of something else I wanted to take. I sort of knew then that I was majorly overpacking (and in hindsight it’s laughable how much stuff I never wore/used) but at least we were prepared, right?

Yeah, about that...

Mister drove to the hospital. Since I was being induced, it wasn’t any frenetic, movie scene type, panicked dad experience. We just put our things in the car and drove there. On the way we talked about how strange it was, knowing that when we came home (God willing), there would be a baby in the car seat. Of course at that time we still didn’t know if our baby was a girl or boy.

(Mister told me later that he was almost certain baby was a boy. He said he’d heard too many nurses/medical personnel ‘slip’ while we were having ultrasounds and whatnot.)

People can choose to find out or not, but it puts a whole other dimension on the experience when you don’t know in advance. Just my two cents.

As we turned into the hospital parking lot, Mister told me to open the glove box. “There’s something for you in there,” he said. I opened it, trying to swallow the bowling ball that had lodged itself in my throat.

“Oh!” I said. “What I always wanted - an owner’s manual!”

When I’m nervous, I often joke.

There was a small white box next to the owner’s manual. In it was a necklace with an aquamarine pendant; one of the birthstones for March. Of course I cried.

We took an obligatory selfie before going inside the hospital. After getting checked in, we went to our room. I remember thinking that we’d only be in that room probably a day, and that 24 hours later, we’d be upstairs post delivery.

Ha. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

I was given a drug to start labor (not pitocin). I’ve always hated needles and so getting an IV was not part of my top 100,000 Things I Love to Do List. Thankfully, the nurse who put it in was really good, so I barely felt anything. 

The one major memory of this whole experience (other than Jonas, of course) was how good the nurses were. I am forever grateful to them. 

Other than the IV and monitors, Mister having to sleep on the sofa, and me laying on a hospital bed, we could almost trick ourselves into imagining we were staying at some sort of hotel. Almost. For a few hours, anyway.

Wednesday night into Thursday morning was okay. I was feeling persistent pain. It wasn’t terrible, just uncomfortable, and I knew that it was part of the process. I didn’t sleep great but I was able to get some rest.

Around six o’clock there was a shift change, and my nurse for the day came in. Liz had a kind of cheerleader vibe about her, very positive, and in some other circumstances I might’ve found her annoying. But I liked her.

My doctor came in a little after seven and broke my water. That experience was...weird. I mean, it was a new experience for me, so it’s hard to describe. Uh, water is wet, so it was wet? Honestly, the thing I remember the most is that there was some meconium after Doc broke my water, which worried me a little. Baby was doing fine and no one seemed super worried, so I set it aside. I DID think it meant I was guaranteed to have the baby that day. How wrong I was, and not for the first time...

They gave me pitocin after my water was broken. So my contractions increased. It felt more like strong period cramps to me. I should say at this point that I have a high pain tolerance. I don’t know what the same level of contractions would feel like to someone else. Sometimes I was only mildly aware that I was having them. 

Probably one of the most annoying things about my entire experience Wednesday/Thursday/into Friday was not being allowed to eat anything. I had ice chips, and water, and Liz managed to get me some Jello. This was actually something of an issue, because I had gestational diabetes, so at first nobody wanted to give me anything except for sugar-free Jello. I did have some of that, but as the day wore on and there wasn’t much progress, Liz talked to somebody and got me some regular Jello. I would’ve preferred something else, but Jello was what I was allowed, so Jello I got.

I...don’t really like Jello. Seriously, like if it’s the only thing, I’ll eat it, but...yeah.

The hours ticked by. Progress was slow. At first I looked forward to Liz and the other nurses coming in and checking me, but by late afternoon, it was clear that things were slooooooow. The best part of Thursday was sometime in the afternoon Liz suggested bouncing on the ball. I was really happy to get out of bed and bounce for a while. After doing that, I decided it was time for the epidural.

I’d decided beforehand I wanted an epidural. As I said, I absolutely hate needles, but I also didn’t want my body to be so stressed that labor couldn’t progress. In the back of my mind, I also thought that if the situation changed, and a c-section became necessary, the epidural would already be in place. 

After the epidural was put in, I started shaking on the edge of the bed, tears rolling down my face. Liz was still holding on to me, and Mister was there, and they both asked what was wrong. I couldn’t speak for a minute. It felt a little like I was five years old, still terrified of that darn needle, and all the tension I’d suppressed had to get out somehow.

“It’s okay,” Liz said, giving me a hug. Sometimes that’s all that’s needed. I was sorry to see her go when her shift ended. She said she was working again on Saturday and that she’d stop by to see us after the baby was born, to see what we were having. (She did stop by.)

This was a constant refrain from most of the nurses: upon first coming into the room, and looking at the white board that had my information and seeing next to “Baby” was written “Surprise!!” we inevitably got the question, “You don’t know what you’re having? That’s awesome!” 

Getting the epidural made the pain diminish, but it also made things more complicated for me because I couldn’t move. Overnight, a tag team of nurses turned me one way and the other, and checked me. 

(I should also mention that all of the staff at the hospital had already been vaccinated, and they all wore masks into the rooms. We did not have to wear masks in the room, but if we went outside it, they were required.)

By Thursday night, both Mister and I were feeling rather discouraged. All day Thursday we’d been told that baby would come “by the afternoon”, then “by the evening”, and then late Thursday, “by Friday morning”. Bear in mind that I’d been on an IV/ induced since roughly six pm on Wednesday. 

Maybe this sounds laughable to people who’ve had 72 hour long labors, but I’d been mentally prepared for around 24 hours of labor. My twin sister had been induced with her first, and her labor had gone about that long. Around midnight on Thursday I was feeling pretty discouraged. Mister wasn’t angry but he said (when we were alone) that he felt like the staff had been overly optimistic. I just don’t think either of us had thought about the implications of me being induced without any sign of active labor. In hindsight, I was glad it was done then, but...yeah. Not being mentally prepared for that long of a labor was hard. I felt bad for everyone who was waiting on updates; it felt like literally nothing happened for about thirty hours. Like I think was dilated to five by Friday morning. And effaced? Practically nothing. My cervix wasn’t getting thinner at all.

Early Friday morning, a new nurse started her shift. My first impressions of Diana were...well, I thought, “she’s definitely not as friendly as Liz.” She was more brusque. As I hadn’t slept much Thursday night, and having been in the same situation for over a day, I didn’t care nearly as much about making friends. By that point I was tired - physically, mentally, emotionally.

But Diana was awesome. She got me turned onto my hands and knees, and had me start doing some vigorous exercises, to really move labor along. I was fine with doing whatever she said because I was REALLY ready to be done. So it felt a little like my cross country days in high school, at the finish of a difficult race. I was tired, I wasn’t sure how much I could do physically, but we had a GOAL and dammit, we were going to do everything to get there!

By late morning, even after the exercises, I was still dilated at a five. Hardly effaced at all. After checking me again, Diana left the room. The option of a c-section had been discussed, especially since it was over 24 hours since my water had been broken.

“I think I’m done,” I said to Mister. Even though I’d never really been 100% ‘I want a natural birth experience’, it felt a little like giving up. I started crying again. “I just don’t think this [natural labor] is going to work. I’m done.”

“If you’re done, that’s it,” Mister said. “Tell Diana you want a c-section.”

I have to say something here about Mister. Even though he kept saying he didn’t know what he was doing or how he should support me, he was AWESOME. He supported every decision, and listened to me talk about the different options. For as hard as labor was for me, I think he had a different hard time. All he could do was literally sit there and watch me go through pain and doubt and fear, and comfort me as best he could. He was a great comfort.

(This is why even if thoughtful partners don’t think they’re doing a good job at supporting laboring moms, they most likely are. Their presence is invaluable. For anyone who doesn’t have a supportive partner with them, or an absent one, my profound condolences.)

When Diana came back in, I told her I wanted a c-section. This was around 11 o’clock Friday morning, March 12th. “I agree,” she said right away, patting me on the shoulder. “You’ve done everything you possibly can to get this baby delivered naturally. I trust mom’s instincts on this.”

Her support meant so much. Really, when a veteran nurse says they trust your instinct, how can you not feel better about your decision?

She left to contact my doctor and several other people, and Mister let people know what was going on. At that point I was more relieved that soon it would be over. I wanted to see our baby.

Mister said later that he learned that hospitals have two speeds: 1) we’re in no rush; and 2) something is going to happen NOW. While my c-section wasn’t an emergency, once the decision was made, things did happen fast. Diana brought the anesthesiologist into the room so he could numb me up. As I already had the epidural, this didn’t take very long. After a few minutes of letting the medication work, Bryce asked if I could feel my toes.

“No,” I said. It was weird. I knew I shouldn’t feel them, but I couldn’t help saying, “I’m trying to wiggle them!”

“No, no, it’s good you can’t feel them,” both Bryce and Mister said. I was wheeled out of the labor room a few minutes after that (I was not sorry to leave it) and taken to the OR. Mister went with someone else to take our stuff to the recovery room.

I’ve been in operating rooms before. They aren’t places that make me want to stay there. Bright lights, metal everywhere, many thoughts of what could go wrong...although I will say that all the staff in the OR made me feel confident. I was glad to see my doctor. 

I felt better once I was in the OR (the only time in my life I’ve ever felt that way) but it felt like a long time until Mister arrived in there. He’d gone with a member of staff as they took all our stuff to a recovery room, then been taken to the OR. Once he was in place, everything started.

Doctor M had asked me before Mister arrived if he wanted to ‘announce’ was the baby was. I told her that he most likely would, but to ask him. She did, and he said yes, he’d love to do that.

There was a blue sheet in front of me so I really couldn’t see anything that went on - which was PERFECTLY FINE with me.

Obviously, I was flat on my back, and everything below my chest was numb. The doctor and others asked me at various times if I felt anything, and I didn’t (other than tugging and pulling). At one point, I suddenly smelled the unmistakable scent of something burning. “What is that? That burning smell?” I asked, glancing above me (really, behind me) at Bryce, who stood there.

“I’ll tell you later,” he said.

Which immediately told me I didn’t want to know what it was. 

Yeah, it was me burning, while the medical staff cauterized me, keeping me from bleeding to death.

(The fact that cesarean sections are major surgery, and regularly happen every day in the United States, is, frankly, a miracle. Everyone hears about the horror stories when something goes wrong, but considering the number of women who go through them without incident, we as a society completely take them for granted.)

As the tugging and pulling continued, and Doctor M said things like, “there’s the head”, the sense of anticipation increased. I’ve never felt anything like it before. Both Mister and I knew any moment we would meet our baby, and after waiting 39 weeks (and eight years before that), it was almost unbearable.

Doctor M said, “Here’s the baby!”

I heard a slight cry, and I looked up at Mister, who sat on my right, holding my hand. He looked down at me and said, “It’s Jonas.”

Even thinking about that moment now brings tears to my eyes. In knowing Mister almost eleven years, I’ve only seen him cry maybe five times. Including this year, on March 12th. We both were bawling, and laughing at the same time, as Jonas VERY loudly screamed his disapproval at being evicted from his warm, cozy space. At one point, Mister, laughing as he cried said, “One of the ---s (our last name) needs to stop crying in here!”

He has a rather husky cry, Jonas does. I loved his cry from the moment I first heard it (though I don’t actually like to hear him cry, if that makes any sense).

As I was sewn up, Mister moved his chair over to where our baby was, under a heat lamp. Then he brought Jonas over to me. My first thought was, he’s HUGE. My second thought was, he was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen.

He weighed nine pounds, five ounces at birth, and had a fifteen inch head circumference. After I heard that, I knew a natural birth was never going to happen. He was born on Friday the 12th of March, at 1:14 pm. The digital clock on the wall said 13:14, which I thought was cool. And it made it a bit easier to remember the time :)

He had lots of dark hair, which I loved. My sister’s had bald babies, so it was nice to have a different-looking kid. Over the last few months, his hair almost entirely disappeared due to cradle cap, and is coming back in...blond. Genetics!

I can say now that it’s past, that I was more afraid during pregnancy than I could admit to anyone, even Mister. I have always been a worrier, and finally being pregnant after so many years, and being high risk due to my age (and my shunt, and the gestational diabetes...) I was in almost constant worry of something going wrong. First of miscarriage (no one needed to tell me of the statistics regarding older mothers), then of stillbirth, like the cord getting wrapped around baby’s neck, and death happening before delivery could happen. I have heard of at least two different stories of that happening to pregnant women in the ninth month - friends of friends of mine - and the fear of that, or something else equally catastrophic happening was, at times, almost crippling. I would’ve preferred to have never been pregnant at all rather than suffer a miscarriage or stillbirth. 

Perhaps it sounds childish, but mentally I didn’t think I was strong enough to have the dream of motherhood dashed, when every day of pregnancy brought that dream closer. I was (and still am) too much of a realist to ignore the statistics; I couldn’t pretend I was 22 and have a blissfully ignorant uneventful pregnancy. To this day, even after giving birth to a healthy baby, one of the biggest things that will set me off is the assumption that way too many people have. “We’re planning on getting pregnant soon.” “Just have kids, you’ll understand.” “I can take you out and make one just like you.” [a redneck phrase I’ve heard being said to a misbehaving child]

Not many of us can “plan” on getting pregnant exactly when we want to - or even within a year’s time. Not all of us can “just have kids” - they’re not like going to the store and getting a gallon of milk. (I recognize the privilege of living in a society where going to the store and expecting fresh milk can also sound arrogant to those who don’t live in one.) ‘Take out’ a kid (even said in jest), and ‘make another one’? I MIGHT have another child in the next couple years. More likely, I won’t. Not all of us can just get pregnant at the drop of a hat. (That’s assuming the one wanting to get pregnant even has a male partner or sperm donor at the ready...some never find that person to have a child with. And adoption can be a great thing, but not everyone is cut out for it. Shaming infertile and childless people for not wanting to adopt is disgusting.)

I was open with my OB-GYN about my fears during pregnancy and she referred me to several resources, and monitored me for PPD. My best friend’s son died in March 2020, a year before Jonas was born (though Billy had severe disabilities which made his death a certain thing), and my sister had had a stillborn son in August 2019 (my nephew Christian). So Jonas being born healthy was a huge relief for me. I can’t really describe the relief, except to say that as much physical weight I gained during pregnancy, letting go of the weight of the worry was felt even more deeply than losing the pounds since his birth (and I’ve haven’t lost all of that).

I will probably always worry about *something*, when it comes to Jonas. He gave me a scare earlier this week, rolling off the couch before I could catch him. He’s fine...and the incident scared me more than it scared him. But every day since he was born is a reminder of the gift he is, and I hope I never lose sight of that, even on the frustrating days (and there have been those over the last almost six months, and there will be more to come).

If you ever wanted children, and are fortunate enough to have them, cherish them. Be grateful for them, even when they drive you up the wall. Even when you only want three minutes’ peace, and they won’t give it to you. Love them anyway. I try to.  

#this was heavier than i thought it would be #don't get me wrong #i had a good experience overall #nurses are awesome #nurses #hospital #birth #birthday #march 12 #jonas #2021 #life #real life #family #me and mister #mister #he's great #pregnancy #parenthood

[fourthwingingit]

Two

Edit: tumblr didnt post my edits from my original post (like you know when you save something as a draft and go oh wait there are some errors like no header and awkward phrasing lemme fix them) so im gonna repost this eventually but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Edit 2: tumblr sucks and never lets me put the thing so... This is for the anon who requested a fic of touch starved clark and conner with the prompts 'nobodys ever done that to me before' and 'i just want to be held' sorry it got angstier then i ment it to.... hope you like hurt comfort

Clark hovered awkwardly outside the door to conners room. He was nervous about seeing the teen with everything between them and what he wanted to ask him.

He took a breath. Conner almost certainly knew he was there already. But that didnt matter.

Ma always said that manners matter

He knocked.

From inside came a muffled, annoyed, and clipped

"What is it clark?"

Taking that as the best invitation he was going to get he opened the door and went in.

He looked at conner. The kid was on his bed, facedown on top of the covers like an angsty teen in a movie.

Clark thought he looked too small for the position he was in. Like he was waiting for some blow that was going to take a part of him with it to land... or like it already had and he was cradling a hole

Clark shook off the disturbing thought and steeled himself. He swiftly walked to Conner's bedside, and said, eloquently,

"Well. I... you see...... uh... lois- i mean to say..... uhh"

Lord this was already going to hell in a handbasket.

Conner turned his head enough to raise one eyebrow

"What the hell was that?"

He sat down a respectful distance away (as far away as he could) and tried again

"Hmm... you see i uhh- hmm you know how uhh.... things umm. Sometimes.... uhh"

Conner slowly turned his head the rest of the way to clark, confusion now written in every line in his body. great.

Clarks back bowed fast. Like his head gained 20 pounds in a half a second, his arms planted themselves on his knees and he gave up trying... he'd try again some other day. Maybe tomorrow. Or maybe lois should do it.... Kal-el you coward.

"I... i dont know, ive got nothing."

But now he was scrambling, he needed a reason for being here. And what came out was;

"Ma told me shes uhh, seen you acting in a... less than..... ideal...... kind of.... way.?"

"Wow."

"No yeah i heard it"

"That was some next level awkward," and there was some distinct venom in that voice shoot. "if its that hard to be around me then you can find the door. I certainly dont need your pity handouts anyway."

Well.... shit

"No thats not.... im.... i wanted to ask- uh... whats been bothering you..... sport."

He now had what bruces kids called The Awkward White Man Smile... great.

Suprisingly, Conner chuckled.

Maybe a small part of Clark's brain said its not hopeless?

"Right now? Your social skills."

Banter! He hung around batman! He could do banter.

"Aww man and here i was thinking i was handing out winning lines."

"Oh no, youve gone senile a little early, well... maybe not early... good thing you've got Kara."

There was a small smirk playing at conners lips and an actual opportunity. God was real and he loved Clark Kent.

"At least I know I have two good boys to pick me up after im down." He looked away fast.

Silence stretched on

.......

Awkwardly

Oh lord he messed up the moment

He presumed too much and their only friendly interaction in over a month is ruined

"Two?"

The voice Conner used was so painfully soft and small. Like it didnt dare to hope anymore and had stopped trying a long time ago.

Clark never was good at leaving voices like that alone. And he was always more comfortable when something needed doing anyways.

Superman courage steadied him enough to take a risk.

He reached out his hand, and ruffled Conner's hair, trailing his fingers down after to rest on the shoulder closest to him and said.

"I have two kids dont i?"

More silence

Conner was frozen beneath his fingertips

He panicked

Oh god

He had fucked it up

He had fucked up enough times that conner didn't want anything to do with him

Okay damage control

"That is...." Conner stiffened further "if i haven't been so horrible to my eldist that he doesnt want anything to do with me"

The silence was now so deep he could hear the dust motes brushing against everything

He heard a tiny sniffle

And then he telltale sound of tears hitting bedsheets.

His head whipped around, his glasses flew off somewhere into the room. He barely noticed.

Shocked, he started to speak but Conner cut him off before he could finish the first syllable.

"You know when i was in Hawaii i used to watch families. Specifically parents and children. I'd be so jealous of-"

Conner cut himself off.

"Nobody's ever- i mean...... parents do that to their kids.... the hair touching thing.... Nobody's ever-" his voice broke, he cleared it. "Nobody's ever even tried to touch my hair if we werent kissing."

He gave a pitiful, watery laugh and, after a breif, stunned, pause, started rambling about how "of course i get it cut, like, the barber touches it and stuff..."

And it all hit clark.

Somehow it had never occured to Clark, that even though Conner looked like he was so much older than Jon, he wasnt.

He wondered who raised him

Who fed him

Who hugged him through nightmares

Clarks heart broke

Because he was certain the answer to most of those kinds of questions was 'Conner' and none of them were "Kal-el" or "Clark Kent"

Clark turned a bit and ran his hand over Conner's back softly, cutting off his rambling and said in a voice that was somehoe warm but still felt guilty and mourning;

"What do you want? What can I do?"

Conner was stunned. Kal had never given him anything like this. So he kept talking to give his brain time to catch up.

"I don.... i- i used to watch families... in- in Hawaii, and I'd get jealous of the kids, that they got to have families. Got to have parents. I dont..."

Clark turned a little to properly face his son and grabbed his hand.

"What can i do Conner?"

One day ago Conner would have asked for a lot. To never see Kal again, the superman title, his spot in the JL, even some time with Jon. But now?

Conner shifted, he sat up as best he could. And guided Kals hand to the side of his face, through tear tracks, held it there for a second, and then slid it into his hair. All thr while leaning into it like it was the only support he needed.

"I just want to be held.... without expectations..... without titles or rules or anything in return."

Connor wouldnt meet his eyes, or look up from the bedspread during his request.

For the second time that day Clark's heart broke. But now he had something he could do.

He reached out with his other hand, guiding his son into his arms, and gently layed them down

He kept one hand on the back of Conner's head, stroking the strands there. And one hand on Conner's back slowly moving back and forth.

From the first point of contact, Conner's world narrowed to the hand Kal had put on him. And now, there was more. Now he was allowed to reach out. He wanted to get closer. To bury his face in Kals chest and curl up small. To let the world fall away around them. Until nothing existed but them. Holding each other forever.

Kal seemed to read his mind, and guided his head to tuck itself under his chin and pressed them closer together.

No promises, no strings, no obligations after.

He could leave whenever he wanted.

He wanted to stay forever.

Conner wondered breifly what was like to be held by a father. If it felt as nice as this. Like everything crashed in on him, but it was okay.

Maybe, he thought.

They had a maybe.

And this maybe was a lot of ground to stand on.

#kal el #clark kent #kon el #conner kent #father son #familial bonds #hurt comfort #cuddling & snuggling #platonic cuddling #fic #dc #superman #superboy #my fic #for anon #my writing

[elliot-orion]

Writing Update 1/14/19

Words Written: 2218 

Favorite line:  I don’t particularly have a favorite from today, so here’s one from yesterday  -   I know what his magic feels like. It’s burning and alive, sparking through my fingers and racing through me faster than the horses at the betting rings the riggers like to visit. His magic always makes me giddy, even as it hurts. 

Update: Well it’s been a hot minute since i made one of these hasn’t it? That’s namely because i haven’t written much in a while, but I finally got my inspiration back after burning myself with nano (and essays, and finals, and too much traveling and...) The best thing is what i got inspo for. you read? CINABEAN!!! jesus CHRIST it’s been forever for this story and i’m so happy i finally got the excitement back for it because i’ve never even finished a whole first draft for this damned story and ive been working on it for literally 3 years now. THREE. AND NO FIRST DRAFT. its infuriating! But the story is now nearly 50k words, and is looking like it’ll probably be close to 65k or more? Not bad for a chronic underwriter’s first draft wouldn’t you say? I’m actually kinda proud of it, or as proud as you get for a first draft. tbh imma be super proud if it just gets done!!! 

It’s been so long i’m pretty sure no one even remembers it honestly, so if you want more on what Cinabean is please just send me an ask bc i’m always down to ramble about my boys. The story has really had some major reworking done to it since i last made a summary post, and even in this draft it’s gotten some serious drift from what i had outlined. But i’m a plantser so tbh the outline was 3 plot points and a lot of “and shit happens where we get xyz character development. somehow.”  But it’s 100% turning out better then the first few attempts were, which is evident by the fact it’s, you know, double if not triple the length any of those ever got too. So like, it’s good changes, trust me. Also it suits the character’s better. 

But enough rambling. I’ve been working on Cinabean, it’s going well, there’s the update. :))

#writing update #cinabean is a temp title that never got replaced and it's been three years #i still dont have anything else for it #its sad #one of these days i'll think of something..... #cinabean

[nursabrinahassan]

Blessed.

THIS POST WAS SUPPOSED TO BE POST BEFORE DECEMBER BECAUSE AS USUAL I SAVED IT AS DRAFT AND TOTALLY FORGOTTEN ABOUT POSTING IT! Skrg baru lah nak post haha.

Syukur Alhamdullilah..

Welcome to our mini family, Nur Olivia!

Ive never thought my life would turn out to be this way. Super blessed with everything i have now, and whats more with the one whom ive been loving so much!

Ive never ask for all these, but Alhamdullilah Allah gave me more than what i ever asked for. I still couldn’t believe i am a mother of 2 now. Everything has changed and Insya’Allah everything will goes smoothly.

Its been months since last i update my blog and its been 3 months i gave birth to Olivia, Alhamdullilah. Me and husb still adapting with our daily life of handling 2 kids and we still learning new things each day. Previously when we had Ozil, we only focus with him on our daily life every second but not now anymore. We are still adapting and trying to make things easy. It was also the same as the first time we had Ozil, because we are the first time parents so theres alot of things need to be learn and need to adapt in alot of things. So this time is also the same, we are trying to adapt things but with 2 kids, Insya’Allah it may seems difficult now, but it will be easy for us in the future.

My 10 months apart babies.

3 months has passed, how we managed 2 kids basically taught me that 2 people has to play a part, i mean the husband and wife.

As for me... Husb taking care of Ozil while me with adik Olivia, maybe because she is too tiny so the husb rasa takut sikit nak handle. But giving milk for adik and diapers changing, the husb will also do it. Only mandikan i will do it.

It was chaos for the first few days. Both will cry for milk and the both of us will be super kanchong buat susu, then we will both sit side by side of each other giving susu to our kids haha.

The husb is taking the night shift while i take the morning shift, then both of us taking the afternoon shift together.

Well thats what i meant.. both has to play a part taking care of the kids because if only 1 person who do the part, it gonna be super super tiring.

Alhamdullilah, I’m blessed husband has been helping me all along. Even mama been helping me alot too. But mostly i will do my part because i taknak my mom rasa penat, lagi my mom dah berumur so i dont want her to feel so much tired. Biar aku je yang rasa penat semua, afterall my 2 kids is my responsibilities kan? 

I received alot of same question “Is it tiring?” Indeed yes, it is very very tiring. And what’s more Ozil is still infant! not yet toddler. So Ozil is still at a crawling stage, masih nak belajar jalan, masih nak belajar cakap etc. So it is quite difficult actually. But somehow, honestly i enjoy motherhood. Yes it drives you craaaaazy at some days, it drives you totally insane! but at the end of the day... the love for your kids is always blooming, their smiles that push away all the tiredness. 

I totally enjoy this motherhood. I enjoy bathing them everytime, making milk for them, held them and feed them, the 1 millions kisses every day. I’m treasuring every moment now because they wont be this small forever!😭

And just in a blink of eyes, Ozil already turned 1 uear old last month! Time flies super fast! Rasa macam baru beranak kan dia semalam eh! It has been a wonderful 1 year journey. He brings so much joy in our life, he taught me how to be a mom, he taught me how to be so much patience. Super blessed!

B... it is ok. Biar kita susah sekarang. Biar orang2 ada apa yang kita takda. 1 je b i bersyukur sangat2 apa yang kita ada skrg, i bersyukur sangat yang kita ada 2 anak b. Bukan senang b. Orang yang dah berkahwin, terkial-kial setiap hari cuba untuk nak ada anak, tapi kita Allah beri dengan senang b. Alhamdullilah...

Boleh nampak kan macam mana Allah aturkan rezeki setiap umatnya dengan berbeza-beza care rezeki. Alhamdullilah untuk semuanya.

Thank you sayang, untuk segalanya.🥰

Love you!😘

I will post about Ozil 's first birthday soon. Currently im at hotel room for Kakak's Big Day later on! Sooo looking forward to it! Will post about kakak's wedding reception too!🥰

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot - “The Heart of the Matter” (Rated PG13)

After graduating high school and marrying the love of his life, Blaine discovers that he needs a heart transplant. But there's a reason he doesn't want his heart removed.

If he doesn't, he will die. But if he does, will that mean losing the man he loves more than life itself? (2965 words)

I had started writing the premise for this a while ago, but stopped when @sunshineoptimismandangels wrote her amazing fic "Soulmate Script", which I think eclipses this one by far. It's much more fleshed out, more adorable than angsty, and who doesn't like adorable Klaine? This is a bit more personal on my end, but I wasn't going to finish it. After reading sunshine's recently for about they 80th time, I was inspired to polish it off for her birthday. So here it is. Let me know what you think. And make sure you read hers because it's amazing <3

Warning for talk of hospitalization and heart surgery. 

Read on AO3.

Beeping monitors.

Cords and IVs.

The sharp smell of alcohol and industrial disinfectant.

The draft from an overhead vent where a steady stream of cold, conditioned air bleeds in nonstop.

Rough sheets beneath his fingertips that he can’t help straightening, can’t stop adjusting.

The urgency hidden beneath the tension-steeped calm, that even as they wait in this one, quiet room, in other areas of the hospital, nurses and doctors are scrambling. Prepping.

Fighting against the clock.

It reminds Kurt too much of the days when he stood by his father’s bedside, waiting for news about his condition.

How bad was his heart attack?

Would the damage be permanent?

Would he ever wake up?

That was a long time ago. Kurt’s father ended up being fine. Better than fine. After his heart attack, he became more health conscious. He ate better (mainly because Kurt harped on him, but as far as Kurt was concerned, it counted), exercised, and saw his doctor regularly. Kurt considered his father (and himself) lucky that they came out of that experience more or less unscathed.

So it seemed like a sick, existential joke on the part of the universe that lightning would strike his way twice.

The memories of that near-tragedy with his father crowd Kurt’s chest, make his heart ache, but his isn’t the heart he’s worried about.

Nor is it his dad’s.

“How do you feel?” Kurt asks, trying to hide the tremble in his voice by forcing a smile onto his face – a smile that, he’s afraid, is fooling no one at this point.

Blaine looks up from his bed, drugged-droopy eyelids struggling to stay open, and shakes his head.

“What?” Kurt asks, frowning at Blaine’s setup – the position of the IVs in his arm, the cuff around his bicep, his nasal cannula. They had rushed to the hospital within a minute of getting the call that a heart had become available. There was a flurry of activity when Blaine walked through the doors – undressing, re-dressing, cleaning, sticking, pricking, and poking – a lot of hurry up, hurry up, hurry up just so that they could sit in here and wait. It made Kurt want to scream. He can’t even imagine how Blaine feels. “Does something hurt? Do you feel uncomfortable? Do you want me to call the nurse?”

Blaine continues to shake his head – a gentle roll left and right on his pillow, very little strength but plenty of conviction. “I can’t, Kurt. I can’t do this.”

Kurt chuckles, too sad and anxious to be humorous. “Well, it’s a little too late to do anything about it now.”

“Kur---rt” – Blaine’s voice, a slush of vowels and consonants mushed together in an attempt to form words, gets caught in the lump of despair building at the base of his throat – “I don’t want to do this.”

“Why not?”

“Because, it might change everything.”

“Of course, it’s going to change everything.” Kurt keeps his tone light, dismissing this argument that they’ve had over and over, and has gone far beyond ridiculous. “With this new heart, you’ll live longer.”

“B-but … but what will happen to us? What if …?”

“What if nothing, alright!” Kurt snaps unintentionally. Numb from the preliminary round of anesthetics working their way through his body, Blaine barely flinches, but Kurt sees it in the flutter of his eyelids, and sighs. They’ve exhausted this conversation, and Kurt can’t take it anymore. He can’t lose Blaine. No matter what the risk, Blaine has to live. That’s not even a question. “You’re not making sense right now,” he says, putting a hand gently over his husband’s, hovering so as not to dislodge anything important. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared, too. But I would rather lose you as a husband than go on the rest of my life without you existing on this planet. And if it comes to that, then I will stalk you till the day you die, Blaine Anderson-Hummel.”

Blaine smiles, but he doesn’t have the strength to do that and keep his eyes open, so his eyelids throw in the towel and drift shut. “Then you’re a better man than I am.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Kurt brushes a tear off his cheekbone, thankful that Blaine can’t see. So much for being strong for his husband.

“Hmm,” Blaine murmurs, finally succumbing to a drug induced sleep. “I guess not.”

***

Waiting to find out if Blaine would be okay, if he would make it through, and what that would mean for them if he did, is harder for Kurt than it was waiting for his father to wake up from a coma. As Kurt retreats to the private CTICU waiting room where he’ll stay until Blaine gets out of surgery, the façade that is his courage dissolves.

As awful as it sounds, Kurt has more to lose if Blaine doesn’t make it than he had if his father didn’t. His father means the world to him, but at the time of his heart attack, he and Kurt had had fifteen years together. Kurt has only known Blaine for half that time, and they only knew for certain that they were soulmates within the last three years.

They’d always had feelings for one another. Since the day they met, they felt it – that spark that everyone talks about. And it was mutual. They knew that somehow, even though neither one of them had their marks yet (they met when they were sixteen – marks don’t materialize on the body till eighteen), they had a closeness. A special connection.

If they weren’t soulmates, what could that connection possibly mean?

When Kurt got his mark first, on his chest above his heart, which very clearly read Blaine Anderson, Kurt knew that it had to be his Blaine. And he was relieved. Fate hadn’t been kind to him for most of his life. He had lost his mother, almost lost his father, had his own life threatened by a school bully. It would be cruel if he lost Blaine. But since Blaine didn’t have a mark (which should have been over his heart, too, since soulmate marks traditionally matched in placement), Blaine wasn’t as certain. There was always the possibility that there was another Blaine Anderson somewhere in the world, and that Kurt was meant for him. Kurt was adamant that that wasn’t the case, but Blaine was stubborn.

But Blaine turned out to be wrong.

And Kurt had underestimated the kindness of fate.

Not long after Kurt and Blaine graduated from high school and moved to New York, Blaine started suffering symptoms of a heart defect he’d inherited from his father – a defect that doctors had assured him his entire young life would more than likely turn out to be just a nuisance, fixable by a minor, relatively low-risk procedure when he got older, if need be. But Blaine’s heart had started to malfunction, two chambers shutting down almost simultaneously, and that’s when they found his soulmate mark – the name Kurt Hummel written directly across the front.

Kurt has loved Blaine forever. Being soulmates, he loved Blaine before they even met. He’d dreamt his entire life of him without ever knowing it, and not just his striking features, which he’d only glimpsed in part - his golden eyes, and his dark, curly hair - but his love of music, his passion, his grace, his elegance, his sincerity.

His drive and ambition.

His beautiful soul, and how much their souls belonged together. Because that’s what soulmates means – finding your other half. That one person on the planet whose existence makes you whole.

Preparing for the possibility of Blaine’s new heart had brought them together over the past few months in a way nothing else in their relationship had before. Exercising together, preparing meals together, going to classes at the hospital together, planning a new future together, took them to a higher level of intimacy and devotion, outlined in their wedding vows that they had chosen to recite traditionally because they applied in the simplest but most poignant terms – for better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and health; until death do us part.

Except in their vows, they had said till death do we wait, till we’re reunited.

Kurt doesn’t believe in God. He doesn’t really believe in an afterlife. But he believes in Blaine, and he believes in those vows. He’s held on to them from the day he said them, made them into his own religion.

Their love is his faith.

If Blaine doesn’t make it, or if removing his heart means what Blaine fears it means – that his soulmate mark will go with it, severing the connection between him and Kurt irreparably - then they might as well just remove Kurt’s heart as well.

Because he won’t need it any longer.

***

Kurt doesn’t know how he fell asleep. Aside from the fact that he swore to himself he wouldn’t, he wasn’t even remotely tired after they wheeled Blaine to the OR. But to ensure there was no chance that he would nod off, he found the narrowest, most uncomfortable chair in the private waiting room, right beneath the brightest, most obnoxious white light, and set up camp. He immersed himself in mindless busy work, checking his text messages and his emails, then his Facebook feed, then his Twitter, and finally his Tumblr, keeping close friends and random followers alike updated regularly on Blaine’s progress.

He finished writing responses to the comments he received on his posts - mostly thank yous along with various emojis depending on the commenter. He closed out his apps, rubbed his brow, and shut his eyes for a second to block out the harsh light overhead.

A second later, a hand on his shoulder shook him awake.

He jerks up from his hunched over position, elbows resting on his knees, his head hanging from his neck like an overripe fruit on a too thin branch, and his phone on the floor, presumably where it landed when it fell from his hands.

“Hmm? Wha---Blaine?” Kurt mutters, assuming it must be Blaine waking him, wrapped up and ready to go home. He was just talking to Blaine five minutes ago. Who else would it be? He kicks his phone as he sits up, waking it from its slumber. The time on the screen reads 7:26.

But it was just past noon a minute ago.

“Mr. Hummel?” a voice says. It’s not Blaine, but it’s familiar.

Kurt blinks at the man standing over him, wearing teal blue operating scrubs and a weary expression.

“Mr. Hummel,” the man continues, even though Kurt has yet to acknowledge him. “We’ve just brought your husband out of surgery. He’s been taken to observation. You’ll be able to see him once he starts coming out of anesthesia.”

Kurt nods, taking the words in even though half his brain seems to believe that they should be heading home. Blaine gets a new heart, and then they go home. It’s as simple as that, right? Because if Kurt has to spend another minute in a hospital worrying about someone he loves, he might go insane.

But if Blaine’s body rejects this heart, there may not be a second time.

“So, he made it through all right?” Kurt needs clarity, wondering why, if everything’s okay, his doctor looks like there’s a problem. Shouldn’t he be smiling, relief pooling in his eyes with a thin stream of tears, like the doctors on Grey’s Anatomy when surgery is a success? Why does Blaine’s doctor seem so … dour?

“Yes, he did. We’re going to keep him under careful observation, but from the outset, things look promising.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Kurt asks, because the unreadable look in the doctor’s eyes makes Kurt think otherwise.

“Mr. Hummel, before I take you to see your husband, I need to have a word with you.”

***

“How do you feel?”

“I feel like an elephant sat on my chest and cracked my ribcage.”

Kurt chuckles. It’s been a day. One whole day of sitting by Blaine’s side and watching him sleep, watching him breathe. A day of holding his hand to make sure that his body is still warm. A day of waiting to hear his voice again, and, when they finally removed his breathing tube, reveling in every harsh, raw attempt at a whisper. A day of not sleeping comfortably so he could make sure Blaine kept breathing while he did. A day of not eating because he didn’t want to leave Blaine’s side. A day of hoping and praying and bartering with the universe. A day of trying to lend Blaine strength because Kurt knew he’d need it to get better.

A day that’s felt like a lifetime.

But Kurt will take it, and every day after. He loves Blaine. He loves Blaine’s sense of humor. He loves his over-the-top displays of affection. He loves his outlandish apologies. He loves his smiles, even the tired, slightly pained one he’s wearing right now.

And he loves that he has a beautiful reminder of Blaine pulsing on the skin of his chest with every beat of Blaine’s brand new heart in the form of his soulmate mark - Blaine Anderson.

“Well, aside from that,” Kurt says. “What I mean is … do you still love me?”

Blaine’s smile goes from pained to flawless in a blink. “Yes,” he says, squeezing Kurt’s hand as best he can. “Yes, I love you.”

“And what do you think that means?” Kurt asks with a knowing smile, as if whatever lesson Blaine is supposed to learn from all of this, Kurt knew all along.

In reality, he only learned recently, but he’s not about to tell his husband that.

“It means that me being desperately and hopelessly in love with you had nothing to do with any silly mark on my heart. Or anywhere else on my body. It has to do with you and me. Who we are together. I loved you long before that mark ever showed up, and nothing is going to change that.”

“Good.” Kurt sniffs to banish the tears threatening his eyes. “It’s nice to see that you’ve finally come to your senses.”

“And it only took about six hours in surgery for me to get there.”

“Better late than never.” Kurt leans over to kiss his husband on the forehead, wishing he could kiss him on the lips instead. But Kurt’s on the verge of tears as it is, and he hasn’t even gotten to the best part of the lesson. “Oh, and here. The doctor gave me this for you to keep.” Kurt turns to his chair and picks up an envelope sitting there, about the size of a small poster, that Blaine had somehow managed to overlook. Though, to be fair, with his gorgeous husband standing by his bedside, there wasn’t anywhere else that he wanted to look than in Kurt’s eyes.

“What is it?” Blaine takes the film Kurt hands him, trying to hold it steady. Kurt keeps hold of the upper edge, lending him a hand. “Ah.” Blaine nods once when he sees the image clearly. He’s seen it so many times, he should have known what it was when he saw the damned envelope. He looks at this x-ray of his heart, like the countless he’d taken before it, with his soulmate mark, his husband’s name, written across it in Kurt’s impeccable handwriting.

“We’ll have to frame it,” Blaine says with a sigh. “This way we can always remember what was, hmm?”

“Well, you’re partially right. We should frame it, right next to this one.” From the envelope, Kurt pulls out a second x-ray of Blaine’s heart. This one bears the mark as well, except the last few letters of Kurt’s name are obscured, the organ in this x-ray darker on one side. Damaged. Blaine compares it with the first, the heart in that one completely healthy, Kurt’s name clear as day. Kurt doesn’t explain it right away. He watches Blaine’s eyes bounce back and forth between the two images, his fuzzy brain struggling to make sense of both x-rays in relation to one another.

“Wait a minute,” he says, his head throbbing behind his eyes as he forces himself to think. “I don’t … I don’t understand.”

“It’s your heart, darling,” Kurt says with a self-satisfied little smile that would come off as superior if it weren’t keeping him from crying. “What is there to understand?”

“But the mark …”

“That’s your soulmate mark,” Kurt points out, starting with the damaged heart first, “on your old heart, and here, on your new heart.”

Blaine shakes his head. He’s trapped in a daze, wondering if he’s actually awake or if he’s still under anesthesia, dreaming that this is real. Because if it is real, it’s the most amazing, fantastical thing he’s ever heard in his life, second to finding out that the donor registry had found him a new heart.

And third to the day Kurt said, “I do.”

“The surgeon told me it appeared after they had the heart implanted,” Kurt explains when the blank look on Blaine’s face becomes blanker. “The second they began to suture and the heart became yours, it appeared.”

“But … how?”

“Because it was never about the heart, Blaine.” Kurt moves the x-rays to the chair and leans in, forehead to forehead, carding careful fingers through his husband’s hair as Blaine’s face begins to crumble, quiet sobs shaking his sore chest. “You said so yourself. You never loved me because my name was written on your heart. Your soulmate mark is a part of you because you love me. It was never going anywhere … and neither was I.”

#klaine fanfiction #sunshineoptimismandangels #klaine fic #Frankie writes #Happy birthday :)