"Straight people at pride?" this "bi women with boyfriends at pride?" that but why are there no disabled people at your pride event. Maybe focus on making your event accessible to all the disabled LGBTQ+ people who want to attend but currently can't before you start the annual discourse on whether Hetero Jessica is allowed to bring an ally flag.
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Warm-up today that has nothing to do with kisses! Although there is a kiss in it...
Umm, I know that James's parents had died before Harry was born, but...what if his mother briefly overlapped a few hours with her grandson?
Anyway. Bit sad below.
--
James slipped into the room. It was quite dark, but he could see well enough to find his mother lying propped up on some pillows just like she’d been the last month. The Dragon Pox had done her in—it had already taken his father weeks earlier, and James was certain she was soon to follow.
The baby in his arms yawned and shifted his little head while James prayed he didn’t start crying. Harry’s lungs were impressive for a newborn. Only alive for a few hours, and Harry could already scream loud enough to crack glass.
James wasn’t supposed to come down to the hospice ward—not at this hour. But he had an odd feeling, like this would be the only chance he had to introduce his mother to his child.
“Mum?” he said softly.
The woman on the bed didn’t move. He closed the door behind him and called her again. Then, she groaned quietly, questioning. He turned on the lamp.
“Mum,” he whispered. “Can you—” he swallowed. A deathly pale face gazed at him without recognition. He blinked away the sudden rush of tears, clutching the baby closer. “Mummy? I want you to meet someone.”
He wasn’t sure if she understood him, nor if she could even hear him. And then, Harry cooed—a soft little trill as he lifted out of sleep. Slowly, without expression, her eyes moved from James’s face to the baby.
“Yeah, Mum, that’s right. This is—” his throat was closing “—this is Harry. Can you guess who he is?”
His mother mimicked the sound of Harrys’ cooing. James smiled as his eyes burned.
“You got it—he’s my son. Your grandson, Mum. Baby Harry. Look at how handsome, eh? Just like Dad.”
She didn’t smile back, but she was fixated on the baby. James moved closer and sat on the bed, showing her the bundle in his arms, and his mother hummed an odd sort of sound as she watched Harry wrinkle his face. It was like a broken lullaby.
James placed her cold, pox-scarred hands in her lap to make a cradle and lowered the baby into her arms. The strength had left her ages ago, so he held Harry with her.
They stayed like that for a long time until he heard a sigh and looked up at his mother.
“Mum?”
She was looking at Harry, but she wasn’t blinking. She was quite still. James leaned over Harry to kiss her forehead.
“I love you, Mummy,” he choked out. “Sleep well. We’ll see you later, ok?”
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I lift because it makes me feel good! Call me obsessed but I don’t care!!!
I don’t care if I intimidate men when I lift heavier than them with better form, I don’t care if my muscles and muscle goals aren’t attractive to certain people, and I don’t care if I look like a “freak” when I’m motivated and busting my ass.
Believe it or not people are crappy enough to treat me like all of the above. But you know what I say? FUCK IT!!!! I do me, I live life for me, and that’s how to live the best life being your best and happiest self.
I was tagged by @baetitan. Thanks for including me!
if i were a month, i’d be: August. I like it hot. This is not innuendo.
if i were a day of the week, i’d be: Wednesday. Odin’s Day.Â
if i were a planet, i’d be: Saturn.
if i were a sea animal, i’d be: An octopus. They are smart and I’d like to think I am too.
if i were a god/goddess, i’d be: Probably something inconsequential like the patron saint of lost socks.
if i were a piece of furniture, i’d be: Nothing, I am not furniture.
if I were a gemstone, i’d be: I’d rather just be raw copper.
if i were a flower, i’d be: Oleander.
if i were a kind of weather, i’d be: Fog.
if i were a color, i’d be: Green. Any green, all greens.
if i were an emotion, i’d be: Probably irritation, honestly.
if i were a fruit, i’d be: Plums.
if i were a sound, i’d be: A car revving.
if i were an element, i’d be: Air.
if i were a place, i’d be: The top of a very tall building.
if i were a mythological creature, i’d be: A gremlin.Â
if i were a taste, i’d be: Hops, an acquired taste.
if i were a scent, i’d be: The smell of rain and worms.
if i were an object, i’d be: A ceramic kitchen knife.
if i were a body part, i’d be: Fingers.
if i were a song, i’d be: Grimes- Flesh Without Blood/Life in the Vivid Dream
if i were a pair of shoes, i’d be: Boots, whatever kind you wear most often.
I’m gonna tag some people to move this game along. Hopefully some of you may get a chance to respond: @zedsdead1001 @kittyboo8015 @erurink @hedera-convallariaÂ
