Request:Hi! I saw you were taking requests and I was wondering if you could please write one where Steve and a heavily pregnant reader are both avengers and one day Steve gets seriously hurt on a mission and the stress causes the reader to go into labor so the team is there for her? Lot of fluff/angst and maybe a happy ending? Thanks soooo much! 😊
You sat on your couch as you mindlessly flicking through the channels, one hand unconsciously clutched to your very pregnant stomach. You were supposed to have had this baby in a month and some change and god you were ready for it. Your entire body ached with pain 24/7, you looked like a whale, you’d been eating like shit, and not to mention your hormones were everywhere. One minute you could be raging angry at Steve for leaving some paper towels out and the next you’d be crying because of how mean you were being, thankfully for you Steve was a patient and loving man and he could put up with your mood swings like a champ. Unfortunately for you he’d been on a mission for a few weeks and in his place Clint had come to help. Not that Clint wasn’t a nice guy and great man it’s just that he wasn’t- he wasn’t Steve.
You craved Steve and the intimacy the two of you shared, you missed kissing him and running your fingers through his hair, you missed having him kiss your stomach, you missed seeing his smile and listening to his sleepy voice, you missed his sweet personality, you missed-
“Oh my god,” Clint sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did when he was stressed. “Oh fuck,” You perk up a bit, confusion evident upon your face.
“What? What happened?” You stagger to your feet, clutching the back of the couch for support. “What happened Clint?” Clint turns to look at you, an almost scared yet defeated look upon his face.
“You can’t freak out, okay?” You gulp, nodding your head as you once again rest a hand on your stomach, more or not for safety reasons. “Bucky just called and uh-” Clint looks to the floor, sighing shakily. “Guess Steve took quite a few hits and he’s in critical condition,” You stare at him, your heart having stopped beating at his words.
“What?” Is all you can manage, the word small and meek at best.
“They’re flying him to a nearby hospital, thankfully for us it’s only half an hour away- Oh my god, no, please don’t cry (Y/N),” You hadn’t even realized the salty tears were gliding down your cheeks until Clint had pointed it out and now that you had they seemed to come in at an even more powerful pace. You sob, your entire body nearly heaving with the intensity of it. “(Y/N) calm down baby bird,” Clint rushes to your side, already pulling you into a hug. “You’re gonna hurt yourself,” But his words have no affect as the tears keep coming, slipping down your cheeks effortlessly. “(Y/N) you’re gonna hurt the baby,” His words register in your mind and you too realize that they’re true but you just can’t bring yourself to stop. Your whole body shakes with the effort of crying and you’re sure you’re staining Clint’s shirt with your tears that or tearing the fabric with how tightly your fists were balled into it and that’s when it hits you, that first sharp pain in your stomach that has you hiccuping in surprise.
“Oh,” You gasp softly, your tears stilling only for a moment. “Oh god,” You whisper as a certain feeling overcomes your body and you can only connect that to your water breaking.
“What?” Clint asks, his face etched with concern. “What’s happened?”
“Oh my god Clint,” You cling to him, your other hand resting on your stomach. “I think I’ve gone into labor,”
“You’re okay (Y/N), you’re okay,” Nat attempts to soothe as she runs alongside the bed you’ve been placed in, her hand clutching yours tightly. “You’re going to be just fine,” You groan in pain, throwing your head back against your already sweat soaked pillows. Something was very, very wrong right now, other than the fact you were going into labor a month early.
“I’m dying Nat!” You nearly scream at her, more pain hitting your body like a damn explosion. “Oh my god I’m dying!” You sob, your sudden tears only increasing your pain.
“Steve’s being life-flighted to a hospital,” Tony runs along the other side of the bed, his phone against his ear as he talks to Sam on the other line. “They’re saying he’s going to have to have a few surgeries but-”
“Tony!” Wanda scolds as she jogs beside him. “We don’t need anymore stress here,”
“No!” You yell, nodding your head. “Just keep talking to me!” The three share a look before Tony continues on talking to you, telling you about Steve’s condition and how badly he had been injured.
“I’m sorry you three,” A doctor suddenly stops the small group of Avengers in their tracks while you get whisked away from their line of sight, your bed being pushed into a different set of hallways.
“You’re going to be just fine Mrs. Rogers,” A doctor clad in gloves and a mask stares down at you, giving you what you thought to be a smile. “You’re in good hands now,” You can only hope that’s true given how much pain you were in. A scream rips itself from your lips as another very painful contraction hits your body fast and quick, leaving you to slump against the bed in sheer and utter pain.
“Ow,” You whimper, your hand falling limp at your sides as exhaustion seeps into your bones.
“Let’s get her into a room and get prepped,” And that was the last thing you remember hearing when you black out, you’re entire world fading to black.
“Mrs. Rogers, we need you to start pushing now,”
“God, please no,” You cry, shaking your head against the pillow. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,’
“(Y/N), you need to push otherwise your baby is going to die, do you understand?” You look to your doctor meekly, your lip trembling with the effort of not sobbing.
“I understand,” You nod your head, biting your lip when another contraction hit. The doctor nods, rolling his shoulders back as he once again falls back into his position between your legs.
“You can start pushing now,”
Despite your valiant efforts you could not physically give birth to your child, something was terribly wrong and everything hurt. You were weak, dehydrated, sweating, and on the verge of tears and you physically could not do it.
“Push dammit push!” The doctor yells at you, giving you the motivation to try to push again. You scream in pain and effort and yet nothing happened. You slump against the bed, tears spilling from your eyes once again. “We’ll give you a break, we’ll be back in ten to try again, sound good?” You nod your head, breathing in shakily. The doctor nods his head before exiting the room, slipping off his gloves and mask in the process.
“How are you?” Comes a sudden voice, one that you were most definitely not expecting to hear at such a time. The all too familiar face of Sam pokes into the room, followed closely by Nat, Wanda, Clint, Tony, and Bucky.
“You guys can come in,” You whisper, closing your eyes as sleep almost takes over, but another contraction hits, leaving you gasping and grunting in pain.
“I’m taking that as bad?” Nat smiles gently as she takes a seat by your bed, reaching out for your sweaty, tired hand. You nod your head, sighing shakily.
“Sam?” You ask quietly, your voice hoarse from the amount of screaming you just did. “What are you doing here-”
“Steve’s in a few halls down, me and Bucky figured that we needed to come see how you were doing,”
“So…how’s he- how’s he doing?”
“Just fine,” Bucky chimes in, “He’s going to be hospitalized for a few weeks at most but he’s doing just fine,” You nod your head, a smile rising to your lips at the thought of Steve being perfectly okay. “He really wanted to be here,” He adds softly, “We told him about the early labor and he damn near jumped out of bed to come see you,” You chuckle weakly, your smile growing a bit in size.
“Well, If I could get this damn baby out of me perhaps I could go see him,”
“I doubt it,” Tony scoffs gently. “Sorry sweetcheeks but you’re damned to a hospital bed for a few weeks too,” You sigh softly, your free hand rising to rest against your stomach, albeit with some effort.
“You ready to try again Mrs. Rogers?” A nurse pokes her head in, smiling at the ragtag team. You stare down at your stomach, mentally preparing yourself for the pain about to come.
“Yeah, Yeah I am,”
“Well Mrs. Rogers,” The doctor smiles as he takes off his gloves and mask “You have a healthy baby girl,” You stare up at him with wide eyes, a small smile rising to your lips.
“Really, we will be monitoring her since she was born so early but as far as we can tell she’s perfectly fine,”
“Why did? Why did it hurt so bad?” Your mouth feels dry and your tongue feels like a slab of sandpaper as you speak.
“We theorize that due to Steve’s super soldier serum his cells mixed with your regular ones, creating a rather unpleasant birthing process for you.” You nod your head, allowing your eyes to close peacefully.
“I’m going to kill Steve when I get out of here,” You mutter, causing your doctor to laugh.
“Well, I think that’s all for now, we will be bringing your daughter around sometime this evening to feed, is that okay?” You nod your head, smiling breathlessly.
“That sounds great,”
You gently brushed your fingers along your baby’s nose as she fed, soft suckling sounds filling the air as she did. Your heart swelled with love and adoration when she cooed softly, her little voice raspy as she called out.
“I love you,” You whisper, trying not to cry once more as you tenderly touch her face. “I love you so much,”
“Think you’ve got room for one more in here?” Your head immediately snapped up to the doorway only to be met with the sight of your husband in his own hospital bed, bruised and beaten but still smiling. You gasp softly, nodding your head as tears pool within your eyes. The nurse moving the bed gives you a small smile as she wheels Steve into the room, placing his bed as close to yours as she could. You mouth the words thank you to her as she leaves, leaving the three of you all alone.
“Did you know,” You begin, your gaze lingering on Steve’s swollen and battered face. “That you have a healthy baby girl?” Steve hums softly, cracking his one good eye open to look at you.
“Do I- Do we really?” You nod your head, your gaze falling to your sweet angel in your arms.
“She was a bitch to deliver no thanks to you,” You chuckle but the sound is watery due to your copious amounts of tears. “And she came early no thanks to you but she’s here now,”
“Can I-” Steve’s voice cracks and he’s no doubt on the verge of tears. “Can I hold her?” You nod your head as you pull your baby away from your body, not that she minded in the slightest, she already seemed to have Steve’s sweet and patient temperament. You gingerly place your baby in Steve’s arm, being mindful of his many wounds. Steve holds her tenderly, smiling down at her despite the fact he was so tired and beaten down. “Hey there sweet angel,” He whispers, making you smile. “Sorry daddy couldn’t be there for the delivery,” He turns his head to look at you for a split second, a sad smile on his face. “But I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere, okay?” On cue your baby coos, her tiny hands rubbing her face sleepily. You sigh shakily, gingerly resting your head on Steve’s shoulder, being careful not aggravate his wounds further.
“Be glad you missed the delivery,” You smile a bit. “It was horrible,”
“Do they know why you went into labor so early?” Steve asks, his voice soft and warm, washing over you like a wave of comfort.
“Cuz your reckless ass thought it was a good idea to almost die, it put too much stress on me and now we have a baby girl, a month earlier than planned,”
“I’m sorry,” Steve manages, turning his head just enough to press a kiss to your matted hair. “I promise I’ll be more careful from now on-”
“I was thinking about that,” You begin, biting your lip hesitantly. “Steve, I don’t want you going on anymore missions, I can’t handle the stress of you being captain america while I’m at home wondering if you’re okay,”
“You want me to give up being Captain America?”
“I know it’s a lot to ask for but-” Steve cuts you off as he presses a kiss to your forehead, shushing you gently.
“I’d do anything for my best girls,” Steve smiles, nuzzling into your hair with his nose. You too smile, your heart fluttering at his words. His best girls.
(from Irish Cooking by Publications International Ltd.)
This recipe is great with whatever berries are in season near you. I like to use the honey instead of sugar to represent the fruits of our labor as well as the honey the bees make after pollinated the food. Its a very sun representative food to me as well.
4 cups plus 1 TBLS divided
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup steel-cut oats
½ tsp cinnamon
½ tsp ground nutmeg
1/3 cup half and half ( or cream or dairy substitute)
¼ cup of brown sugar or molasses
1 cup fresh strawberries hulled and quartered
6 oz fresh blueberries
6 oz fresh blackberries
3 tsp granulated sugar or honey
Boil the water with a pinch of salt, then sprinkle in the oats and cinnamon and nutmeg as its boiling. Stir until it begins to thicken, then reduce to simmer for 35-40 min. Add in the cream/non-dairy and molasses/brown sugar.
Combine berries and water in small sauce pan, add in sugar or molasses. Bring to a simmer on medium heat. Cook 8 - 9 min or until tender and the berries still hold their shape.
Decide porridge among 4 bowls and top with the berry compote.
Honey Scones -
Sounds delicious and from the same book as above. Great for Imbolc as well.
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 TBLS brown sugar (packed)
1 TBLS baking powder
6 TBLS butter, melted
½ cup old fashioned oats
1 TBLS granulated sugar
½ tsp salt
¼ cup whipping cream
¼ cup milk
1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees. While heating line the baking sheet with parchment paper.
2. Combine flour, brown sugar, granulated sugar, baking powder, and salt. Stir in the oats. Whisk the milk, cream, melted butter and egg in a separate bowl. Stir wet ingredients into dry until the dough just comes together.
Turn dough onto a floured surface and pat dough into a ¾ in thick circle. Cut the circle into eight triangles.
Arrange triangles onto the baking sheet and bake for 12 - 15 min or until golden brown. Let cool 15 and serve warm, with butter and honey.
Feast Dishes -
Here are some side dishes that I thought up or read for your feast. These will be in less recipe format then the ones above.
Savory Strawberry Salad -
½ purple onion
1 container strawberries, rinsed and sliced into ¼ inch slices
6 - 8 roma tomatoes sliced into ¼ inch slices
2 TBLS balsamic vinegar
salt to taste
Slice onions into ¼ inch quarter rings. Add to a non-reactive bowl. Add the strawberries and tomatoes.
Add balsamic vinegar and a pinch of salt.
Place into the fridge overnight, or the freezer for 1 hour.
Remove the bowl and let come to room temperature. Serve.
Spring Salad Mix -
Add a fresh made dressing to a bag of salad mix!
Try these -
honey, lime, oilive oil and dill
raspberries, balsamic vinegar, olive oil and salt and pepper
rice wine vinegar, cilantro, lime, and canola oil
lemon, dijon mustard, clove of garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper
Simple Sides -
Irish Cheddar and fresh fruit
Fire Roasted Corn on the cob
Fire Roasted Bell Peppers dipped into a creamy dressing (Ranch)
Carrots and Celery dipped into hummus
Local fresh produce, raw and ready to eat!
Red cabbage and sliced apple slaw
Main Course -
The main dish should be something that reflects the season, and your celebration. If you are having a bon fire, hot dogs, sausages and other food roasted over the fire are appropriate.
Or fire up the barbecue and grill up some some meat! Carne asada, which is a popular summer meat to grill in SoCal, it is marinated strip steak in lime and other seasonings, and great for this holiday. Also try lime and tequila marinated chicken, grilled salmon, or hamburgers.
Not going to be outside? Try roasting or broiling in the oven. A good beef roast is great, or maybe some broiled fish.
Vegatarian? try boca burgers, or other veggie burgers, grilled portabellos with cheese on top, or some seasonal veggies on the grill! I love roasted zucchini on the barbecue or in the broiler.
Do what is good to you and appropriate for your diet/nutritional needs and what is in season. Just because the ancient Irish folk ate something at this holiday, it doesn’t mean we can’t eat what we have available or even the modern equivalent of it!
Gewurztraminer with Elderberry Syrup and fresh strawberries and blackberries
May Wine - ½ cup of dried sweet woodruff leaves, 1 bottle of Riesling wine, 1 bottle of Sekt (German sparkling wine) or champagne, ¾ cups organic strawberries, chopped. And a pinch of fresh sweet woodruff flowers for garnish
Meyer Lemonade infused with lavender and mint
Fresh brewed floral tea, such as chamomile, with honey or infused 3 flower sugar, from my other post.
Desserts - I am going to make a whole separate post for Bealtaine desserts!
I hope you enjoyed my post on the foods and recipes I put together for this year’s Beltane!
Summary: The sleepy Oregon town may be a weird enigma, but the Pines family themselves have the most mysteries and secrets of all. You reap what you sow, as the saying goes. And so must Stan finally reveal himself to an irate Dipper, while Ford consoles his despondent niece. It’s a close call as deceptive betrayal and unconditional love battle it out for Stan to claim his true prize: Forgiveness.
***Revolves around Grunkle4Grandpa. Don’t like it, don’t read it.
A/N: Part three is finally here! After hours and days of fighting with the story’s climactic chapter, @saveshootingstar and I have prevailed. We hope you enjoy the fruits of our labor.
Remember that thing your parents told you?
The thing they said was really important, and would make you feel safe and secure and help you sleep at night?
They were lying.
“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper flung open the door to the old man’s bedroom, sure that he would find him there at this late hour. And certainly without caring if he jolted him out of a dead sleep or gave him a heart attack. Dipper felt like he was having one himself. But to his surprise, the decades-worn mattress was vacant.
Hi Pear! You are so amazing and helpful and I'm hoping you could offer me some advice. How to you get motivated to write when you really don't feel up to writing? I try to write something every day, but some days I am emotionally drained and I just want to scroll through tumblr instead of writing even a few lines. I like writing, just some days i feel I can't. Do you have any wisdom to offer me? Thank you so much for taking the time to answer this and for being great :)
Hi there, Anon, come on in and get comfortable. I have some very important, very special advice to give you today. It’s some advice that we writers never hear except whispered about covertly, like a guilty pleasure no one wants to admit. We don’t hear it from our family, who always wants to see the fruits of our hard labors; we don’t hear it from the publishing world, who always wants to see our growth in the market; we don’t hear it from our readers, who always want to hear the justification behind a release delay; we don’t hear it from the most prolific writers in the field, who are always somehow capable of working non-stop. They are the ideal; they are who you’re supposed to be striving to become! Then, those who produce somewhat slower are somehow viewed as being less. What poppycock. Come here, Anon, and listen close:
Do you hear me? It’s okay. You’re okay. The pace at which you write is okay. The days when your energy is too low to slog yourself to your computer’s word processor are okay. The times when you can’t be bothered despite knowing you should are okay. The moments when you don’t write? They’re okay, too.
I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I just announced Singers of Sand and Sea yesterday, right? Okay, but I wrote that in December. I gave it as a gift on New Year’s, and then I told myself I would work on the climax (which I felt was too neat and not quite satisfying though acceptable) throughout January and post it February 1st to my personal writing blog. But then January hit me in the face with a lot of things, not the least of which was very low writing energy and will. Now, I pride myself on some pretty amazing will power. (My favorite Libbs can back me up here.) Do you know when I put together the climax of that piece? First off, I didn’t remember I was going to post it until February 1st at 4:30 pm, already about two-four hours after when I would have liked to have posted it. Then I got home from work, ate something, and worked on it until I finished at 6:54 pm–in time to post it at 7 pm when that blog regularly queues its daily posts. But what does this mean for you?
It means you’re not alone.
Your low energy days do not make you any less of a writer. You are welcome to take a few days to relax and recharge yourself and enjoy other outlets. You are not required to write every single day to be able to check off that “writer” box. I’m right there with you, Anon.
There are some things you can try, though, when you’re feeling just too guilty about it to let it go. My little story about Singers illustrates one of these things:
Find what motivates you. Think about any classes you’ve taken and papers you’ve written. What made you do that homework on time? Was it the deadline that motivated you? Was it not wanting to fail? Was it that you didn’t want to disappoint a teacher or professor? Was it something more personal like wanting to actually finish something, even if it was just five math problems? Was it a promise you made to yourself (or someone else made to you), like a slice of pie in exchange for the completed paper? What was it that made you do the thing in the end? Harness that. Make an artificial version of whatever that is. For me, deadlines work. For me, it’s as simple as saying, “By Friday, you will have this scene hashed out.” And if it’s something that I really care about, something that’s right up on the list of my priorities, it’ll happen.
Make it a priority. It doesn’t have to be a tippy-top priority–that should always be you and your physical and mental health. Don’t beat yourself up because you couldn’t finish something you’d wanted to because your anxiety was sky-high and your focus nonexistent. It happens. Let it go, set your new goal/motivator, and try again. On the note of priorities, in 2015 I read an abysmal total of 9 books. Upon reflection, I realized that I had shifted my priorities throughout the years from reading to writing and video games (as my stress reliever). I’ve made a concerted effort to change that, to rearrange it, and so far in January I read 5 books–more than halfway to last year’s entire total. Priorities are malleable! You can change them! They’re not set in stone! Make writing your go-to-choice when you’re feeling well physically and mentally, and you’ll be more likely to put words on the page.
Set limits. They can be time or length or patience limits, whatever kind of limit you need to make writing not feel like it’s demanding all this weight and attention from you. Set a timer for a length of time you feel you have. Devote yourself to a page and a half. Gauge how many shits you have, then determine to only write as long as there are still shits to give. Writing doesn’t have to take all of your time; it doesn’t even have to take a majority of your time each day. Find that balance between being able to rouse yourself to do it and feeding yourself and your health.
Do it. This is the worst. In the end, there is no cure-all for lethargy and lack of shits. It’s up to you to develop in whatever way works best for you. Maybe that’s weekly or monthly goals instead of daily goals, giving yourself permission to relax. Maybe it’s keeping that notebook, document, or website open in the background to remind you. Maybe it’s a blog that you set a schedule for and resolve to stick to it as best your mental health can afford (hello, this blog is right in the middle of this category). There’s nothing that can make you write except you, so learn how best to help yourself stick to goals and achieve them. It’s a skill you’ll use all your life in various venues, so nurture it and learn how you work best, then go for it.
Here’s a tip: Let’s start a tradition, right here, right now. Find a jar, box, or any container you like. Every time you feel like this, or you feel guilty about not writing that day, write a love letter to yourself. Keep them in the container. These days you decide to take to yourself are important, but if you can’t stand them, take a moment and let yourself know how much you do.
I wish you all the best, Anon. Please know that you are not devaluing yourself or your writing or your ideas or your ambitions or anything else by not writing when you don’t feel up to it. Take care of yourself, and if that means taking a day to scroll around Tumblr, by all means, friend. Be kind to yourself. You’re not alone. I’m right there alongside you with my head on the desk, flopping around like a squid. -Pear
They see us as apples
Strange fruits in the season of harvest
In the season of harvest ready to be picked
They hang us
Torment us in every which way they can
All because our melanin offends them
Offends them so greatly
A constant reminder of lack of culture
Lack of knowledge
Like us everything they stole
The master thieves
The master thieves reclaiming stolen goods as theirs
Excluding us from the fruits of our labor
Conditioning us to believe lies
Lies about ourselves
And all alike
So tatteredpantaloons and I somehow got to the point where we were recreating Handers scenes through emoji (don’t…don’t ask…), and I thought I’d show off the fruits of our labor! Can you guess which scene is which? :3
(first encounter! by tattered. this is the New and Improved™ version. still laughing at the emoji interpretation of Grey Warden)
(first romance scene at the Hawke estate! by me)
(and the romance scene’s continuation! by tattered. fuck yeah they’re gonna get married)
(chantry boom! by me. Hawke isn’t mad, he just wanted in on that tbh. and the fugitive boyfriends lived happily ever after ❤️)
Back in 2009, we bottled a hooch-jug of Snake Oil and put it aside in a cool, dark nook. We’ll be selling the fruits of our labor and patience in 100 bottle increments, starting this Friday. Each bottle is $50.
We will be making announcements prior to each hundred-bottle release.