“It’s too late for an epidural now. I’d say a couple of hours and we’ll have the baby.” The doctor informed and Taylor nodded her head, absentmindedly.
“Sweetie, it’s gonna be okay, you hear me? I’ll call Adam so he can come here.”
“He’s gonna hate me. We just started talking again. This baby will ruin everything.” Taylor muttered, gripping the bed as pain took over her again.
“Don’t say that. He will not hate you and babies are blessings, honey. You’ll be fine.”
“I’m not ready to be a mother. I’ll be the worst. I can’t do this.” Taylor shook her head, sniffling. “What am I supposed to do? I’m not even with the father of my child! I don’t know how to handle this, mom! Help me!” Taylor sobbed and Andrea wrapped her arms around her.
“Shhh, it’s okay, you’re gonna be fine.”
“Adam’s not ready either. What if he signs off the rights and I’m stuck with the baby by myself?” She rambled.
“Taylor, Taylor, stop, sweetheart! Adam would never do that! You’re not alone, I’m right here, all your friends will support you, you know that!” Andrea told her, her eyes widened, a little shocked at her daughter’s behaviour. She knew right away that Taylor was not taking this the right way. “It’s gonna be fine. I’m sure you’ll love him once he’s born, okay?” Taylor didn’t answer, afraid of what she might answer. Her mind was blocking any feelings she could have for the kid. She was rejecting it.
“Do you think you can tell Adam or do you want me to?” Andrea asked her.
“Tell him to get here and then I think I can break the news to him.”
“Honey, by the time he gets here, the baby will be born already.” Andrea told her carefully and Taylor took a deep breath, the words coming out of her mom’s mouth so strange.
“Then I guess I’ll show him instead of telling him.”
He was in the studio when he received the strange phone call from Andrea. At first, he thought about how strange it was that she was calling him then his mind raced and his thoughts landed on something being wrong with Taylor. He fully stopped what he was doing once he slid his finger across the screen to answer the call. Andrea was seemingly calm, greeting him warmly as always but Adam sense some nervousness in her voice.
“Is it Taylor?” He questioned after all the greetings and how are yous were over.
“Yes, honey. Listen we’re in the hospital.” His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.
“What happened? Is she okay?”
“I need you to listen to me, Adam. I don’t think I should tell you on the phone but you need to come down to Nashville as fast as you can, okay? She’s okay. She’s not in a very particular danger physically. This involves you both. So please can you make it to Nashville?”
“Is she there? Can I talk to her?” He questioned already gathering his things so he could leave the studio and get to Nashville. He wasn’t even thinking twice. He was fearing whatever it may be because this was the most terrifying phone call he had ever received but he had found that when it came to Taylor, it wasn’t hard to get him worried, even after the break up, even when he was pissed at her and when he hurt her. He missed her and he was so happy when they started talking again. Glad that the dream of getting her back had a chance because he was wrong. They were good together and he hadn’t fallen out of love with her.
“Sweetie, that’s not the best idea at the moment.”
“Okay then I’ll be there soon. Tell her I’m coming.”
“He’s so beautiful, Taylor.” Andrea told her, smiling. “Come on, just hold him, honey” She urged but Taylor shook her head, her eyes fixated on the wall in front of her. “He’s your son. Come on…” Andrea sighed. Taylor had held him once in the whole four hours of him being born, only the minute labor was over but now she couldn’t bring herself to do it and she didn’t know why. She hadn’t spoken a word, stuck in her own mind and in shock of what had happened. Yesterday, she was fine, she knew about what was going to happen in the following days and weeks and now she didn’t. How had she missed this? Something as large as a pregnancy? Especially with the baby being Adam’s because she was sure it wasn’t Tom’s. A whole seven months and she didn’t know she was carrying their baby. She drank, partied, worked out. She kept thinking that she could’ve killed the baby. But he was healthy at least that but she couldn’t bring herself to fall in love with him, couldn’t allow it and she reckoned the shock would take a while to wear off.
Taylor glanced at her mom as she smiled down at the beautiful baby boy, her heart quickening as she watched him yawn, the quietest of sound escaping his tiny mouth. What was she doing? Why couldn’t she just take it? He was just an innocent baby that happened to be the product of a once beautiful and magical love she experienced. She couldn’t do this to an innocent child.
“Grandma loves you, sweetie.” Andrea whispered, smiling widely at the still nameless baby.
“I think I…” Taylor hesitated, speaking softly after a few minutes making Andrea snap her head up at her, quite surprised. “Can I try?” She bit her lip.
“He’s yours, Tay.” Andrea said, carefully standing up. She placed the baby in Taylor’s arms and she choked a sob looking down at him.
“Oh god,” she mumbled. “I’m so sorry.” She cried softly, kissing his forehead carefully. “I’m so sorry.” She repeated glancing at her mom.
“Oh honey, it’s okay. It’s been four hours, you have a lot of time.” Andrea reassured.
“Oh, baby, I’m here, I promise.” She told the small child in her arms, her heart caving in. She felt it crash into her as she realised she had made him. He was hers. Theirs. She was his mom.
“You have your daddy’s nose.” She chuckled softly, tears streaming down her face.
“He has his mommy’s lips though.” Andrea pointed out and Taylor looked up at her and then back to her son.
“Mommy.” She whispered in disbelief. “I’m someone’s mother.” She shook her head, closing her eyes. “This is crazy”
“I know.” Just as Andrea spoke her phone started ringing, Adam’s name on the screen causing Taylor to widen her eyes.
“Room 125, honey.” Andrea answered and hung up the phone. “Are you ready?”
“No.” Taylor sighed, handing the baby over to Andrea. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“It’s going to be fine, sweetie. Just remember, no matter what, you’re not alone.” Andrea smiled softly. “Do you want him here when you tell him?”
“Yes. He’s staying with me.” She offered her mom a small smile. As Andrea sat back on the chair with her grandson comfortably resting in her arms, the door opened and Adam burst in the room, a worried expression on his face.
“Oh thank god!” He breathed out a sigh of relief, walking quickly towards Taylor and wrapping her in his arms. She was surprised, having forgotten what his embrace felt like. It had been a while since she felt it. “Jesus, I didn’t know what I expected after your mom called! What happened? Are you okay?!” He questioned, pulling away to examine her.
“Adam…” She turned her head to her mom who Adam hadn’t even noticed when he walked in the room, too preoccupied with Taylor to even register anything around him and most of all, he hadn’t noticed the baby he spotted once he realised Taylor was showing him something.
“Whose baby is that?” Taylor gulped at the question as his eyes focused on the small child in Andrea’s arms.
“Ours.” She choked out quietly, her heart beating out of her chest.
so my sister had to write a mystery for school and she wrote a sherlock au for school and she wrote john and sherlock’s daughters solving crimes together and at first i was like “no wtf sherlock would never father a child he’s gay wyd” and she was like “well she’s adopted” and i almost started crying because like??? oh my god??? he would ??? if there was woman in his homeless network that was pregnant and couldn’t keep the baby he was totally adopt her and give rosie a sister and like john and rosie would just come home one day and see sherlock cuddling this newborn i’m sobbing
*Set between Christmas and New Year’s, sophomore year
They’re fighting, their voices raised so loud that she can hear them through the closed door of her room all the way on the other side of the apartment.
It’s infinitely worse than anything she remembers hearing as a child, somehow even worse than the silence and the muffled sobs of her mother crying in her bedroom after her father had left them.
She doesn’t know what they’re fighting about. She doesn’t want to know. She can barely think past the growing ball of anxiety in the pit of her stomach that seems to be taking over her body and mind.
It’s too much. She can’t stay in the apartment anymore — doesn’t want to be there when her stepfather leaves and won’t come back. So she flings down the sketchbook she’s been doodling in — her quick, rough sketch of horses galloping across an idyllic field covered by dark, deeply etched, jagged slashes of pencil marks — grabs her coat and a scarf to shield against the biting cold, and climbs out of her window.
Lucas thinks he imagined it when he hears a knock on his window. It’s nearly midnight, snowing, and bitterly cold outside; no one in their right mind would be wandering about outdoors. But he gets up from his bed and checks anyway, and has a moment of panic when he sees Maya on his fire escape outside.
“Maya, what’s wrong? What are you doing here?” His tone is urgent as he opens the window and steps back to let her in.
Maya shrugs. “Nothing’s wrong,” she says, as he bolts the window shut against the cold again. She takes off her scarf and coat, and dumps them over the back of his chair. “I was getting bored, so I came to see what you were doing.”
It’s usually Lucas who goes to Maya’s window, especially this late at night. It’s something he’s done all too frequently these past few months. He hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep ever since his parents’ divorce, but Maya has helped ease the confusion and pain (and the nagging doubt that maybe, somehow, he’s the reason they decided to separate, that’s he’s responsible for his mother crying herself to sleep every night for weeks after it happened). Maya’s the only one he’s been able to talk to about it; he hasn’t even told Zay much beyond the fact that his parents aren’t together anymore.
It’s strange how emotional upheaval in his life has brought her back to him, that she was the one he turned to when it felt like he was barely keeping his sanity. It’s the only good thing that’s come out of the divorce. Nearly a year after the ski lodge trip and his break up with Riley soon after, he and Maya are close friends once again, closer even than before, in fact.
That’s how he knows she’s not telling the truth, that something isn’t right.
“I was just…. reading,” He gestures to the comic book lying facedown on his bed. He’s lying too. He’d been going through the pictures on his phone, pictures of their group of friends, but it’s Maya his eyes lingered on. He’d been wondering whether — given how close they’ve become — Maya maybe kind of knows how he feels about her, and that she likes him back too, the way she did once before, the way he’s always done. He supposes the accurate term for it would be “pining”.
Maya simply nods and glances away. She barely makes eye contact, her eyes darting around his room as if she’s seeing it for the first time.
Lucas tries again. “Maya, is everything okay?”
“Yes, why wouldn’t it be?” She looks at him like he’s daft. “Do you want to go for a walk, Huckleberry?”
He registers the use of the treasured nickname — Maya stopped calling him nicknames for a while when they became distant from each other, but she’s been doing it more often now that they’re close friends again — even as his eyebrows rise in disbelief, both at her crazy suggestion and the fact that she thinks it’ll deflect his attention from whatever’s going on with her. “Now? It’s below zero, and freezing out there, and you want to go for a walk now?”
“Fine,” she shrugs again. “What do you want to do then? We could watch a few episodes of The Walking Dead or something.”
But she’s already walked away even before she finishes her sentence, wandering aimlessly around his room. She stops and stares at the pictures of their friends that he’s tacked up on his board.
She seems restless and antsy, and Lucas knows something’s very wrong. Maya never behaves like this. He goes up behind her, and turns her around to face him. “Maya?”
To his surprise, after a pause, Maya moves forward, towards him, wraps her arms around his waist, and presses her face to his chest. His arms go around her automatically even as he tries to understand her muffled words over the pounding of his heart in his ears. He hasn’t been this close to Maya, her front pressed to his like this… well, ever. He gulps nervously.
“Mom and Shawn are fighting,” Maya mumbles into his chest. “I don’t know what it’s about, but it sounds real bad.”
Lucas understands immediately. “Maya—”
“I don’t want to be there when he leaves us too.”
He hugs her tightly, hating that she sounds sad and defeated. “That’s not going to happen—”
“That’s what happened before,” Maya counters wanly. “I told her the Gimbo the Elf routine was crazy. He put up with it last year, but—”
“Maya.” His tone is forceful enough to make her tense in his arms, but that’s how he knows she’s listening. “Shawn isn’t Kermit, and he’s not going to leave you guys, least of all for a crazy, funny Gimbo the Elf routine.”
“I can’t see my mom go through that again,” she says quietly, and Lucas’s heart twists, because as much as this is killing her, Maya is, as usual, thinking of someone else’s pain first.
“She won’t. And neither will you, because that’s not what’s going to happen. He loves you both.”
He feels a pang when he thinks of his own father, and how his parents aren’t together anymore because they’d been fighting too, for a long time. But he pushes the thought aside and focuses on Maya.
She’s silent, so he continues. “Maya, people who love each other sometimes fight about stuff. No family lives without disagreeing on something or the other every now and then. You’ve had fights with your mom before, you’ve fought with Shawn before. Hell, even Shawn and your mom have argued before.”
“Not like this.” Maya sounds young and vulnerable as she presses her face deeper to his chest.
He touches her cheek to raise her face so he can look at her. “Sometimes, people get upset with each other when they’re talking about something that’s important to them,” he says gently. “Just because they’re fighting, that doesn’t mean they’re not going to sort out the matter, or that Shawn’s going to leave just because your mom disagrees with him.”
She regards him quietly, and he realizes with relief that she’s less worried now after his reassurance. He knows he hasn’t done much, but he’s glad he can be there for her the way she was his rock during his parents’ separation.
They stare into each other’s eyes, and something shifts subtly. Suddenly, he’s aware that neither of them is thinking about Shawn and Katy’s fight anymore.
Moments like these have been happening increasingly frequently over the past few months. They’d be sitting next to each other, talking while they worked on homework or some assignment. Then suddenly, everything around them would fade when they’d find themselves with their faces close, staring into each other’s eyes, the air around them charged with expectation and anticipation. Until something or someone would interrupt them (usually Farkle, who’s interrupted them so many times that Lucas has begun to wonder if he’s doing it on purpose).
Lucas swallows and takes a deep breath, steeling himself to do what he’s been wanting to do for ages and ages: he bends his head closer to Maya, who stays as she is in the circle of his arms, looking up at him, lips slightly parted, frozen.
Their lips are bare millimetres apart when the loud shrill of a ringtone cuts through the air. They jerk apart as if someone’s dumped scalding water on them.
Lucas leaps to answer the phone without looking at who’s calling. “Hello?”
There’s a second’s silence, then a loud angry voice bellows from the other end, “Who is this??”
Lucas jerks the phone back from his ear and realizes it’s not his, it’s Maya’s. “This is Lucas,” he manages without stammering, though it nearly comes out garbled in his rush to assure Shawn. “Maya’s here—”
Shawn is still yelling at the other end when Lucas hands Maya her phone.
It takes Maya a few minutes to calm Shawn down. “I’m okay, Shawn, I’m at Lucas’s house,” she says, wanting to assure him she’s alright.
“You left without telling us you were going out at this time of the night,” Shawn is calmer now that he knows where she is and that she’s safe. “I called Cory, thinking you’d be with Riley, but he said you weren’t there either. Your mom and I were worried sick, Maya.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry,” Maya says, contrite. “I’ll come home right now—”
“No, you wait there,” Shawn tells her firmly. “We’re coming to pick you up.”
“Shawn, there’s no need,” she protests, “I’m barely a couple of blocks away!”
But, “We’ll be there in ten,” Shawn says, and ends the call.
Mrs. Friar isn’t as surprised to see Maya emerge from her son’s room as Maya imagined she’d be. She throws Lucas a stern look when he tells her Maya’s parents will be here soon to take her home, to which he ducks his head sheepishly, sure she’s going to put him in the shed.
It turns out Shawn is the only parent who’s surprised that Maya turned to Lucas instead of Riley when she was upset and needed comfort. He’s also the only one who didn’t know about Lucas’s frequent late night visits. “You knew a teenage boy was sneaking into Maya’s room at night, and you let him stay??”
“You knew?” Maya asks both the mothers as, sitting beside her on the living room couch, Lucas gulps, sure his hours are numbered and he’s living out his last day on the planet.
“Of course I knew,” Katy says, rolling her eyes, exasperated. “I’m your mother, Maya. I may be lenient with things other parents are stricter about, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on.”
“You let a teenage boy with teenage thoughts stay in our daughter’s room?” Shawn repeats, still upset no one else believes teenage boys are a menace to his daughter.
Maya’s heart leaps at the words “our daughter”.
“I was a teenage boy once, Katy, I know exactly what’s going on in his head!”
Shawn’s glaring at Lucas, and Maya’s gaping at him, at the knowledge that he cares this much about her, that he thinks of her as his daughter (forgetting that he’s told her this before).
“I raised my boy with manners, so he better not have done anything inappropriate,” Lillian Friar says. She raises an interrogatory eyebrow at Lucas. “Have you, son?”
“N-no, of course not!” Lucas stammers, red-faced. “I’d never!”
“Shawn, I trust the boy,” Katy says, laying a hand on his arm. “He’s one of Maya’s best friends. He cares about her, and helps her with her schoolwork. He’s good for her.”
Shawn’s still glaring at him, so Lucas puts on his best innocent Lucas-the-Good/St. Huckleberry-the-Perfect face, because he’s sure Shawn can read his mind and knows his feelings for Maya aren’t anywhere in the vicinity of platonic.
“The divorce has been hard on both of us,” Lillian says quietly, “And Maya’s the only one Lucas has talked to about it. I know she’s really helped him get through it, Mr. Hunter. She’s helped us both.”
“I know you’ve both been going through a difficult time,” Katy squeezes Lillian’s arm. “And I’d never want Maya to not be there for her friends. That’s why I didn’t say anything, Shawn.”
After a pause, Shawn sighs and nods, well aware that difficult fathers are a touchy subject, and friends and family often mean the same people in his book. “Fine, I’ll trust you,” he reluctantly concedes to Lucas, “and I already do trust you,” he says to Maya. “You’re close friends, so you both don’t need to sneak around. None of us have a problem with you spending time together. But—” he frowns, “—that still doesn’t excuse why you left home without informing either of us this late at night,” he tells Maya crossly.
“It’s not like you, baby girl,” Katy adds. “If you wanted to come and see Lucas, why didn’t you just let us know?”
Maya lowers her eyes, and mumbles something.
“Because you were fighting!” Maya yells. “I was upset, okay? You were fighting, and I was scared you’d—” She cuts herself off miserably.
“You thought that because we were fighting, I was going to walk out, didn’t you?” Shawn asks quietly.
Maya looks away. Katy, Shawn, and Lillian all sigh.
Lucas puts his arm around Maya’s shoulder in comfort and support, but hurriedly removes it when Shawn shoots him a glare.
“Maya,” Shawn crouches on the floor before where she’s sitting on the couch, “Just because Katy and I disagreed over something doesn’t mean I’m going to do something stupid and drastic like leaving you. I love her and I love you, and I’d be the last person ever to abandon my family. You know that.”
Maya nods, a little shamefaced, because she does know that. She knows his history, knows he’ll never do that to her. He promised to always be there for her even before he married her mother.
Shawn pats her head and she smiles at him, feeling much lighter and reassured.
“So,” Katy says now that Shawn and Maya both look a little happier, “You left because you thought Shawn was going to leave because we were fighting, and came here, not knowing this was the reason we were fighting?”
Maya’s forehead crinkles in confusion. “You were fighting about Huckleberry?”
Shawn rolls his eyes at the nickname that’s obviously not just a nickname anymore, while Lillian suppresses a smile. Katy just looks amused.
“Well, yes, Huckleberry was part of the reason. But were fighting about you.”
Katy slants her eyes at her husband mischievously. “You heard Shawn, he has very strong views about what teenage boys really want to do when they’re alone with young teenage girls.”
Lucas mentally groans, conscious of Maya, Shawn and his mother’s eyes on him. He’s positive his face is flaming red and fervently wishes he was invisible.
“And he was, I believe, questioning my parenting skills—”
“I wasn’t questioning them!”
“—when I happen to have raised my daughter by myself for most of her life,” Katy finishes.
“She’s my daughter too,” Shawn says sulkily.
Katy laughs. “Yes, she is. And you and your daughter have caused enough trouble for one night. I’m sorry, Lillian,” she adds, turning to Lucas’s mom.
Lillian waves away her apology. “I’m just glad Maya’s safe, and that everything’s turned out okay.”
Lucas watches, bemused, as his mother and Maya’s mom agree on a quick lunch date sometime soon, before Ms. Hart herds Maya and Shawn out. He and Maya can barely say bye to each other properly, thanks to Shawn — deliberately, Lucas is sure — inserting himself between them.
His mom shuts the door behind them, and then turns to him, an eyebrow raised in question.
Lucas scratches the back of his neck. “So, uh, you knew huh?” He mentally kicks himself the second the words are out of his mouth, because way to go incriminating yourself by reminding your mother you’d sneaked out in the first place.
“Why do you think I let you get away with it, Huckleberry?” Lillian grins when Lucas blushes furiously and ducks his head. “It’s a wonder you’ve been keeping your grades up. You can’t be getting much schoolwork done around her, seeing how you keep making cow eyes at her.”
“Mama,” he protests, cringing because dear lord, he probably does make cow eyes at her.
“Get yourself to bed,” she says, reaching up and ruffling his hair. She kisses his cheek and pushes him in the direction of his room. “Oh, and Lucas?”
He looks back from the door of his bedroom. “You’re not getting off so easy, Bucky. You’re grounded.”
At least, Lucas thinks, when he sees the message from Maya on his phone ten minutes later, he’s not the only one.
For the first time in her life, Maya’s not upset about being grounded. Granted, she’s pretty much confined to her home until school starts again, but she’ll be seeing her friends for New Year’s in a couple of days, and they’re always group chatting and video calling each other for her to miss them too much. Besides, it really is way too cold to venture outdoors.
She feels much calmer now. The momentary blind panic that set in when she heard her parents fighting is gone, replaced by the comforting knowledge that Shawn’s not going anywhere. She feels a bit silly for jumping to conclusions and just assuming the worst when it comes to Shawn’s presence in her and her mother’s life. But then Shawn and her mother have only been married for a year, while Maya has lived with the experience of her biological father’s abandonment for most of her life, so she figures her fears of Shawn walking out on them are not entirely unfounded.
Her thoughts turn to Lucas and Lillian, who have both endured so much over the past few months since Lucas’s father officially separated from Mrs. Friar. She feels a bit guilty about going to Lucas with her worries when she knows he’s just beginning to come to terms with his own situation — Maya has seen his struggle firsthand, has been there for most of it. But she acted without thinking, and her instincts led her to the one person she knew would understand.
Ever since she’s known him, she and Lucas have had some sort of unspoken understanding of each other’s thoughts and feelings, well, at least in most cases. Over the years, he’s increasingly been the one person she can turn to when things become too much, too dark. He’s become her refuge, her sanctuary.
Maya sighs as she turns in bed, flopping onto her stomach under the covers. She’s not unaware of how Lucas feels about her — she’d have to be utterly dense and clueless not to see the way his eyes light up when she’s around, or the way his fingers linger longer than they should when they brush against hers. The way he never lets her walk home alone, especially late at night. The way he always gets her favourite dessert from the school cafeteria and splits it with her, happy to let her have the bigger portion. The way he buys her books he thinks she’ll like, and reads them too, so that she can discuss them with him later (she’s become quite an avid reader, thanks to Shawn’s influence).
The way he’s just always there for her.
It’s not like Maya wants to discourage Lucas’s behaviour; her feelings for him are nowhere near platonic either. But she’s being cautious. It’s taken them a while to overcome the distance and awkwardness that formed between them after the trip to the ski lodge last year, and Maya’s afraid of doing anything to hurt their friendship, deep as it is.
Then again, she’s sure something would have happened today if it wasn’t for Shawn’s ill-timed phone call.
Maya sighs and presses her face into her pillow when she finds herself blushing and smiling at the thought of finally kissing Lucas. Oh well, she thinks as she begins to drift off to sleep, there’s still New Year’s, and the school dance, and their upcoming class trip… plenty of opportunities to let something happen between her and Huckleberry… only if no one interrupts them!
What happened on that damn bridge - - My headcanon
So I imagine after the UFO flew overheard when Scully was trying to save Mulder in My Struggle II that William was beamed down and suddenly appeared in front of Scully. Not recognizing his parents, he didn’t know what was going on, but Scully instinctively knew it was her child. Because of course, mother’s intuition you know. She then ran up to William, gave him a huge hug with tears streaming down her face, told him who she was, and then between her sobs told him that they had to save his father’s life. With the help of William, Scully was able to take Mulder to the nearest hospital to use William’s stem cells along with the vaccine she had made to save his life. After Mulder had recovered enough to go home, they all went together to the Unremarkable House. After a few months Mulder and Scully got married, and they all lived happily ever after as a family of 3. For the first time ever, Mulder and Scully finally had the life that they always imagined and more importantly, the life that they always deserved. This would be a proper ending to the series, and it would give these two characters what has always been wrongfully taken away from them!
Last gif credit: X, don’t know about the 2nd and 3rd to the last ones.
* Proud of yourself, are we?
* Proud of what you have done to our home?
* My home?
* Father always told me about the devastating war between humans and monsters.
* We were forced down here after the humans defeated us. This is our sanctuary.
* It’s no longer that, is it?
* You’ve murdered everything you can get your little hands on, and everyone else evacuated.
* Father told me to evacuate. He told me to run away with Glamor after you…
* (choked sob)
* You.. Murdered my uncles.
* Murdered my MOTHER.
* She spoke so highly of you, calling you silly pet names she called me when I was a child.
* We could have been siblings, you know? We could have been a family.
* But you just had to ruin that, didn’t you?
* My father is up ahead, waiting for you..
* If you think I’m going to let you go and slaughter him, you’ve got another thing coming.
* I’m going to kill you right now. For what you have done to my family and my home.
* There are BAAAA-d things ahead for YOU.
Look at my baby, Rickon Stark. He is in canon, a child. Never been to battle, never really seen a battle. He is a child. Just the fact that I am a full grown adult, and I would have been sobbing, begging for my life is just jarring how calm he is in comparison. He takes a steadying breath and just bows his head, accepting his death sentence with honor, Like his father did in season one. There will be no weakness from Rickon.
As he is running, he has this look of determination. Like, he’s trying to be brave, trying to get to Jon’s side as fast as he can, to prove that he can make it, that he is brave.
When the arrows start getting closer is when the fear starts set in, he starts to run harder, checking behind him, trying to get his legs to move faster, trying to get to Jon as fast as he can. Trying to survive, to live! I’ve seen like 100′s posts screaming for him to zigzag, that he’s stupid for going straight. He is in a panic! If someone is shooting at me, my first thought is not zigzag, but get the hell out of there as fast as I can. Remember, he is a child who’s never been shot at!
Then the last photo. I already made a post about the last photo, but the more I stare at it, the more I see the hope, the almost relief he seems to have because Jon is right there, His big brother, who would never let anything happen to him is literally feet away, reaching out. Risking the whole battle, but to save him. Jon is one of the last family members he has left and he thinks he has made it back to his family. He survived, He beat Ramsay. There’s just a ghost of a smile on his face. Only for it all to be ripped away a millisecond later.
When I was three, I watched my parents scream at each other at the dining table. Later that day, I brought my mom a tissue carrying my blue’s clues stuffed toy for her bleeding upper lip. She was crying, sobbing through the phone while talking to her dad. I still remember it up to this day because of how horrid it was to the eyes of a child.
When I was five, I heard screams, mostly from my aunt. I heard plates breaking and loud thuds around the house and continuous yells and shouts. I remembered sitting in a corner, hugging my legs because I thought that if I hid myself, I wouldn’t hear the yells anymore.
When I was seven, I watched my father beat my brother up for coming home late, or for having bad grades, or for being disrespectful. I watched him shake in fear with stains of tears on his cheeks right after my father left. I remembered giving him a hug, but he refused.
When I was nine, I watched my mom cry after the two of my sisters cursed at each other, arguing between something irrelevant. I saw my dad exhale a deep breath that night, not a word from his mouth. I cried, too, though back then I didn’t know why.
When I was ten, My family and I went on our very first vacation without anyone else but the six of us. It was supposed to be a two week vacation, as the rest of us were sick living in that house, but it was also the time when my mom found out about my dad’s affair. I woke up, seeing my siblings sitting altogether in the other bed, watching my mother scream at my father, asking him where she stands in his life. I cried, and I begged for her not to leave. Ever since that day happened, I refused to stay in the same hotel we slept in during these days happened every time we went back to this place. I blamed myself for everything ever since.
When I was eleven, I got kicked out of the house, for wanting to leave so much because I missed my mother who refused to come home after that day. I remembered being tugged and pushed on the ground, being forced to pack my clothes and my father wasn’t there because he was at work. I remembered holding my tears back, in fear that I might get hit for being too loud.
When I was twelve, I was sexually assaulted by my drunk uncle, the youngest brother of my mother. I told my family, but they refused to believe it when I refused to put him to jail, because he had a three year old daughter whose mother was working abroad. Not wanting the child to grow up in a broken family, I lied to them, telling that I lied. That what happened wasn’t true. Though, I wouldn’t come out of the room for two weeks in trauma so he and his child got forced to move houses.
When I turned thirteen, I came home to our new house empty. Not a single greeting from my siblings, nor my friends because I got bullied at school for making mistakes I shouldn’t have made. My mother had to text my father around at 11 o'clock, telling him to take me out for dinner. He was sleepy at that time, tired, too. I had to hold back the tears because it was my birthday. Birthdays were supposed to be happy, weren’t they?
When I was fourteen, I ran away from home. For making too many mistakes, for being misunderstood for so long, for everyone to live and breathe a little more easier without me because I thought of myself as a useless failure. My brother found me eventually and brought me home. I never heard anything from my dad, nor my older sister after being brought back.
When I was fifteen, I moved back to the house I got kicked out from to learn the hard way, as a punishment for being an idiot through the past years. I moved back even though I knew some of the traumatic memories would be brought back because I wanted to conquer that fear before I leave there again. And somehow, I did.
Now I’m sixteen, and I love myself better. I know what I deserve, and I could finally see the beauty of my flaws. Unlike before, I could feel extremely happy without a reason anymore. I get the same amount of love I give to the ones who deserves it. In short, I’m happy even when the sad days comes, because I knew that it’s just rain that’s gonna be over sooner or later—even if it’s a storm. Through every single thing I’ve been through, having the life I have now doesn’t make my past seem so bad.
DAMNIT NEJI KEEP THE BABY WE JUST WANT YOU TO BE A GOOD DADDY LIKE HIZASHI WAS TO YOU *sobs*
“Thinking about my own child with this…mark on his forehead, I can see why my father was so eager to die. My only hope is that I am married to a Main House Hyuuga and have one child with her. After the first, I would do anything needed to eliminate the risk of having a second.
I consider different forms of sterilization every year I come closer to an arranged marriage, but that is a crime in my clan. I have to be careful. I have to be…smart about it.
…I wonder if a certain Nara would be willing to help me come up with a plan.”