I'm Almost There!

My life and various other non-adventurous adventures!

[geekyaggie14]

More nonsense adventures with Morgan!! Today we try to make homemade canned pumpkin! From my very own pumpkin patch to boot!!! I’ll let y’all know how this goes!!

[euclase]

Do you ever think you'll stop drawing fanart? No offense it just seems like the kind of thing you're supposed to grow out of. I'm just curious what your plans/goals are since it isn't exactly an art form that people take seriously.

Ah, fanart. Also known as the art that girls make.

Sad, immature girls no one takes seriously. Girls who are taught that it’s shameful to be excited or passionate about anything, that it’s pathetic to gush about what attracts them, that it’s wrong to be a geek, that they should feel embarrassed about having a crush, that they’re not allowed to gaze or stare or wish or desire. Girls who need to grow out of it.

That’s the art you mean, right?

Because in my experience, when grown men make it, nobody calls it fanart. They just call it art. And everyone takes it very seriously.

[linzeestyle-deactivated20160712]

It’s interesting though — the culture of shame surrounding adult women and fandom. Even within fandom it’s heavily internalized: unsurprisingly, mind, given that fandom is largely comprised by young girls and, unfortunately, our culture runs on ensuring young girls internalize *all* messages no matter how toxic. But here’s another way of thinking about it.

Sports is a fandom. It requires zealous attention to “seasons,” knowledge of details considered obscure to those not involved in that fandom, unbelievable amounts of merchandise, and even “fanfic” in the form of fantasy teams. But this is a masculine-coded fandom. And as such, it’s encouraged - built into our economy! Have you *seen* Dish network’s “ultimate fan” advertisements, which literally base selling of a product around the normalization of all consuming (male) obsession? Or the very existence of sports bars, built around the link between fans and community enjoyment and analysis. Sport fandom is so ingrained in our culture that major events are treated like holidays (my gym closes for the Super Bowl) — and can you imagine being laughed at for admitting you didn’t know the difference between Supernatural and The X Files the way you might if you admit you don’t know the rules of football vs baseball, or basketball?

“Fandom” is not childish but we live in a culture that commodified women’s time in such away that their hobbies have to be “frivolous,” because “mature” women’s interests are supposed to be marriage, family, and overall care taking: things that allow others to continue their own special interests, while leaving women without a space of their own.

So think about what you’re actually saying when you call someone “too old” for fandom. Because you’re suggesting they are “too old” for a consuming hobby, and I challenge you to answer — what do you think they should be doing instead?

[talesfromthemek]

#I love the fact I’m ‘weird’ for writing fic but some guy painting a team logo on his beer belly is normal

[destielhiseyesopened]

[x] [x]

[takaraphoenix]

This whole modern approach is also seriously undermining just how important fanfiction is - from a historical standpoint.

The concept of fanfiction formed and forged the earliest stages of literature in Europe. Because the majority of authors in France, Germany and Great Britain looked at that funky little Celtic dude Arthur and thought “hey, he’s neat. I wanna write about him”.

The entire concept of a book outside of religious purposes was born out of fanfiction in my country.

There is no “first canon” for Arthur where he came as the prince of Camelot, with his sidekicks Lancelot and Merlin and his endgame love interest Gwen.

Arthur was some random hunter when he started out.

Someone’s fanfiction made him a prince.

Someone else’s fanfiction gave him a round table.

Someone else’s fanfiction gave him Merlin at his side.

Someone else’s fanfiction gave him Morgana, gave him Gwen, gave him his swords.

And, to this day, we still write Arthurian fanfiction. Literally last year there was a movie adaptation that is, by all intends and purposes, fanfiction, because it wasn’t even close to a literal adaptation of the source material (The Kid Who Would Be King). Heck, BBC’s Merlin, itself an Arthurian fanfiction, remains one of the biggest fandoms that people today write for on AO3.

You were a joke in the middle ages if you tried to write your own stuff. Who’s interested in your stuff? You were only a respected author if you wrote fanfiction. The most famous medieval German authors are famous because they wrote fanfiction about some knightly OCs they created who served on Arthur’s court. That is the literary legacy of the middle ages. Arthurian fanfiction.

Yet somewhere along the way, this concept of “I find x story/element cool and want to elaborate on it more, shift the focus onto an aspect of this original source material” has gotten this “eh, it’s fanfiction” connotation and lost respect.

Even though this very concept is still being used - even outside of the actual medium of fanfiction - and it is still being used for the very same purpose it was used for in medieval times. Original movies often don’t get as much recognition as adaptations of existing source material that the audience is familiar with. People see a movie about a character they’re familiar with and seem more inclined to buy a ticket to see the 10th new interpretation of Batman or Superman or Snow White. How are these new interpretations of familiar source material that usually add to the lore, reinterpret characterizations and dynamics, any different from fanfiction?

But heaven forbid we call The Dark Knight Nolan’s Batman fanfiction. No, fanfiction is that silly thing that we can’t take seriously, but that new Joker movie, that however is high-end art.

[rottenbrainstuff]

I’ve always been extremely sad by the idea that fan works are not the same as “real art”, because the shows and media we consume are our modern folklore, and why shouldn’t we retell them? This is our version of sitting around the campfire making up new stories about the heroes and gods that everyone likes to hear about. This is what we do, as human beings!

[geekyaggie14]

Would just like to say that Disney, the ENTIRE FREAKING FRANCHISE!!!!! Is basically FanFiction. Every Disney princess is essentially fanfiction.

[geekyaggie14]

Alright hear me out! Where is my Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy virtual reality ride? You could be on Magrathea and the planet is back up and running. You are potential planet buyers so you get a tour of the factory floor by Slartibartfast, who of course mentions Arthur and all that and then you get to design your own planet. The ride ends with you getting an air tour of your new planet! I’d ride it is all I’m saying.

[untitled94191]

Look Closely: Torso panels of the new Discovery uniforms are tiny, metallic Starfleet deltas.

[geekyaggie14]

Ok but here me out! There is really shiny metallic vinyl that is iron on! You could cut this pattern on a cricket or something and iron it onto the uniform top!! Take that costume designers!!!

[whitepeopletwitter]

[geekyaggie14]

Whelp. Been nice knowing everyone. Just remember. Don’t panic.

[writingwife-83]

Accidental Research, ch 3- A Study in Confinement

Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2020, day 3- trapped in a small space/locked in a room

“Ah, Mr. Holmes, how do you do?”

“Perfectly well, Anderson,” Sherlock replied begrudgingly. “Where is Hooper?”

“He’s just down the hall in a storage cupboard, you’ll see. Will you be working here tonight? If you’ll be needing anything I can certainly-“

“No no, clearly you’re on your way home for the night and I wouldn’t dream of stopping you,” Sherlock said quite honestly. The last thing he wanted was to have Anderson in their hair, forcing him and Molly to put on more of an act.

Anderson bid him goodnight then, taking his coat and hat off the rack by the door and exiting the way Holmes had just come in, leaving it quite literally deathly silent. Ideal, in Sherlock’s estimation.

Keep reading

[dradelcrahasmoved]

Bruh

[geoclaire]

I can’t believe I read this post with my own fucking eyes

[therealbucky05]

@likingthistoomuch

[geekyaggie14]

I hate myself for laughing at this.

[memesandlaughs]

[roguesareth]

Do you want rabies? This is how you get rabies

[emeraldspiral]

Is it really that big of a deal if your dog has autism?

[roguesareth]

I need to reblog this again because no seriously R A B I E S:

-is basically not treatable once you start showing symptoms. Straight up you will die and not in any kind of fun way. We’re talking flu symptoms that develop into hallucinations, severe hydrophobia, partial paralysis and a slew of other shit.

-99% of rabies cases in the world come from stray dog bites. EXCEPT IN THE US. Rabies vaccines have nearly illuminated the threat from dogs. Our biggest concerns are wild animals like raccoons, skunks, foxes and coyotes and feral cats.

-Rabies is extremely preventable by vaccines and nearly nonexistent in countries where the vaccine is widely available and taken advantage of.

-B U T if people stop VACCINATING THEIR DOGS (and other animals that are susceptible like cats and farm animals like cows, horses and goats) we will likely see a rise in rabies cases among free roaming animals and BECAUSE we dont experience many cases (because of vaccines) and often people arent informed. We know “rabies is bad” but that seems to be it in a lot of cases, I’d wager a lot of people dont knownits transferable from animals to humans at all.

-Most rabies cases in humans are children under 15.

V A C C I N A T E Y O U R A N I M A L S

-brought to you by me, who just did a research project on rabies for one of my MA classes

[thegirlinthebyakko]

Can you imagine being so afraid of autism that you let your dog die from rabies?

[muttpunk-delete-deactivated2021]

Can I also add that the lyme disease vax is really important and none of the side effects include canine autism? Anti vaxers really just want children and animals to die.

[therealbucky05]

Morons

[geekyaggie14]

I’m sorry but I’m what world is an autistic dog/cat/baby worse than a sick or dead one? If you think having autism is worse than being sick or dead then you really need to get your priorities straight.

Or better yet, you don’t have to get vaccinated and then we’ll toss you into a vat of small pox. Have a nice day.

[jaspermoonbean]

You know you have a yarn addiction when….

[sailor--spoon]

macaronimaiden

[editorincreeps-deactivated20180]

faux-nana

[geekyaggie14]

.....when the most expensive thing in your home is probably the $400 worth of yarn in the crafting closet. Because it was pretty.

[savedgame]

men these days are too pussy to cut up a watermelon rind like a basket so they can put the chunks of watermelon back in and display it prettily

[savedgame]

if your man doesn’t even do this for you he’s worth nothing

[docwifesunshine]

How dare you. Watermelon is meant to be eaten by the mouthful, ravenously, clawing out chunks with your bare but manicured hands while soaking the front of your pretty summer dress in the juice flowing in rivulets down your chin, blinded by the summer sun and starving for the freedom to eat how you want.

[savedgame]

what in the fuck

[prridot]

when I worked at summer camp we did a scavenger hunt where the kids ran all over the property collecting “magic acorns” aka watermelons that we’d just covered in tinfoil and painted. their last hint led them to the roof where they discovered that the acorns were actually evil and needed to be destroyed. they took great joy in ripping the foil off them and then hurling the watermelons off the roof, where they predictably shattered. then followed a moment of tense silence, where one of the children looked over at me (i worked in the office so i was basically Everyone’s Boss at the time) and quietly asked, “can we go eat that?” me, being a big fan of the ‘eat dirt it’s good for your immune system’ theory of child-rearing, shrugged and said, “sure.” 

let me tell you, i have never seen a group of 9 year olds go so feral. I wish I could go back to that age and experience that. just the unbridled joy of standing in the summer sun, digging into whole watermelons with your bare hands. god what a life. 

[geekyaggie14]

What do you mean 9 years old? Good sir/madam/non-binary being, I went bat crap crazy on some watermelon at least twice this last summer and I blacked out but there may well have been a third time. You eat that watermelon like a wild thing starved every summer or are you really living the summer life???

[anxietyproblem]

This is a reminder to drink more water! Including myself! 

[chibiredfox]

Drink dat water kids! And teens! And adults. Even the elderly.

Drink your water

[geekyaggie14]

As a nurse and someone with diagnosed anxiety, also check your vitamin levels. And if you work nights (like me or are really good about your sunscreen while outside also like me) ESPECIALLY check your Vitamin D. Fun fact, a while back my anxiety was off the charts. None of my usual coping tactics were working and I was having attacks and breakdowns left right and sideways. Went to my doctor and found out my Vitamin D levels were next to nothing! A month of prescription supplements and now a daily regular dose my anxiety is back to “normal”? levels. In short,

DRINK THE H2O AND TAKE THE VITAMINS!!!!!

[danhumphrey]

scott lang, completely misunderstanding peter parker’s power: hey if u want man we could get tiny and just like hang out, i don’t know if you’ve ever been in a lego castle but it’s pretty sweet

peter parker: u have no idea how much physical pain having to turn this offer down is causing me but,

[northstarthembo]

Scott Lang, upon realizing Peter Parker can’t shrink: oh okay no biggee, we’ll just make the LEGO castle big

[magical-awesome-kid]

Peter, ready to cry from joy: do you like Star Wars? Because I have a replica… and my friend Ned and I got it to fly…

Scott Lang, a mechanical engineer and nerd: kid you are my people

[letitrainathousandflames-archive]

Tony, calling peter: …and may I know WHY THE HELL IS SHIELD CALLING ME ABOUT A LIFE-SIZED DEATH STAR IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DESERT?!

Peter: we didn’t want it to crush any buildings so we brought it out here!

Tony: THATS N O T MY POINT!!!

[gingersnapwolves]

#and then Tony wonders when the hell HE became the responsible one#and promptly abandons his responsibilities#and jumps in his armor#to go zoom around the life size death star#pretending he’s Luke doing the trench run (via)

[153-centimeters-of-sass]

It got better!

[aqueerkettleofish]

I was gonna SAY, Tony would fly out there, look at the thing, and go…. No, this isn’t life size. Impressive though. Okay, bugs, put on these helmets, we’re taking this into orbit and doing this at 1:1 scale.

[joasakura]

Sam: Barnes is gonna make an awesome Chewbacca.

Bucky: -.-

[iconuk01]

Guardians arriving back in Earth orbit for a visit: Rocket : When the **** did Earth get another moon? Peter Qull (with an indescribable look on his face, but knowing his entire life has built to this moment): That’s no moon!

[literateterrarian]

(so this face?)

[courtofnothing]

Yes

[geekyaggie14]

I love it all. All the awards! All the funding! Make me a mini movie now people!!!!

[peoneys]

They had both agreed they weren’t ready for kids yet, but they were used to things not going their way too.

Keep reading

[geekyaggie14]

That’s ok. Didn’t need my heart.

[sundance201]

Prompt fill for @becandidbeautifully - prompt list is here. I’d be happy to write you a little ficlet!

Her requested prompt was “You’re getting a vasectomy. That’s final.”

———————

Sherlock could do little more than rub Molly’s back and hold back her hair as she retched into the toilet. “Of course your baby inspires the worst morning sickness ever known to man,” she moaned, before closing the lid and flushing the toilet. She leaned back against the tub and Sherlock handed her the wet flannel that he’d kept at the sink. “I can’t believe I finally get to shag you silly and it makes me violently ill. I have the worst luck.”

Sherlock frowned. “It wasn’t the shagging that made you ill. It was the lack of condoms and subsequent pregnancy.”

The glare that she gave him was positively withering. “You’re getting a vasectomy. That’s final.”

“You only want one baby?”

“I will waste away into a desiccated husk of myself if I have to go through this again, you bastard.”

She paled again and threw the flannel at him before diving towards the toilet again, flinging the lid up just in time. Sherlock quickly grabbed her hair and tossed the flannel into the sink.

When she was finished with that round, she leaned back again and Sherlock quickly ran to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He came back and handed it to her, before sitting down beside her on the floor. “If it’s any consolation, the baby will be adorable. I’ve seen your baby pictures and I’m sure once we tell my parents, Mummy will break out the photo albums. I was an exceptionally cute baby. Together our offspring will be quite darling.”

She chuckled weakly and leaned against him. Sherlock wrapped an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re lucky I love you so damn much,” she said softly.

He smiled. “I am, Molly. I think that all the time.”

“Even after holding my hair back while I’m throwing up?”

“Even then.”

She grinned and rested her head on his shoulder. “We can revisit the vasectomy and future baby subject sometime when I’m not puking my guts out.”

[escailyyy]

The vanishing Hitchhiker

Sherlock Holmes consulting detective didn’t believe in apparitions, specters or anything of that sort, he was pragmatic and cynical, that’s why when Lestrade warned him against driving down St Margaret road on a Friday 13th he scoffed at the silly superstition and refused to listen to more, really, the less evolved could be so idiotic sometimes.

It was a quiet evening with little traffic and he’d just finished a seven in a nearby town, maybe that’s why Sherlock decided to stop for the petite woman who was so evidently failing at getting a ride from the cars passing her by.

“Oh thank heavens” she said when Sherlock pulled up to the curve, turning around to smile at him revealing the probable reason why she was in her predicament “I’ve been walking for miles but nobody will stop, one look at this bloody lab coat and everyone thinks I’m a serial killer” She huffed in indignation

“Its the logical conclusion since evidently the blood isn’t yours, yet you had little choice in wearing it because the dress you are wearing underneath is a flimsy protection against this windy weather” Sherlock replied rapidly deducing the stranger, she was female, in her late twenties “you’re a doctor working on your PhD, live alone but you’ll be married soon, sentimental, have a cat, and are well off financially…. judging by the tools in you pocket and lack of purse I’d say you were called to do an emergency consultation during some important event that required you to wear that dress”

She watched him for a couple of moments blinking in astonishment before extending her hand “Molly Hooper, recent hire by St Bart’s pathology department”

“So I was right” Sherlock congratulated himself “I’m Sherlock Holmes, only consulting detective in the world” he said smugly

“Well Sherlock I’m sorry to bother you but can you take me to Heathrow? I had a row with the people supposed to drive me back and they just left me at the side of the road, someone’s waiting for me and I can’t be late”

Sherlock was exasperated but agreed to give Molly a lift and to nobody’s surprise she turned out to be a veritable chatterbox, but that wasn’t a surprise to Sherlock, she had the look of someone who found silence uncomfortable.

Mostly she told him about the situation where he’d found her, she’d told him of a old rival who was being accused of murdering his pregnant wife, she of course noticed immediately that the lady died at childbirth and the “friends” that had offered to give her a ride home had quarreled over her verdict, eventually deciding to leave her to reach home alone.

“One of them probably did it” Sherlock deduced after hearing the bare bones of the case “They knew you didn’t like the accused man personally and would probably be willing to lie about the COD if it meant getting even”

“I figured so too, except that I take my professional integrity very seriously” Molly replied in a huff “I still don’t understand why, I mean the victim was a battered housewife, wouldn’t it be more logical to kill the abusive husband?”

“Not necessarily, if the killer had a personal connection to the victim and she didn’t want to leave her husband” Sherlock shrugged not realizing he found her line of questioning interesting “saving the baby from a household like that would have looked like a better option…And if you were willing to commit perjury then most likely the killer would return the child”

“So the murderer was either related to the victim or loved her hard enough to “save” her baby from the abusive father, they also knew of my personal history with the man and wanted to see him behind bars….I think I have an idea on who it is” Molly hummed non committal “As if I would commit perjury because of a petty grudge” then she turned to Sherlock “And you? What was a posh detective doing so far from London, in the country no less”

So Sherlock told her, he talked about his case a complicated closed room situation where a snake the width of a penny had been pushed through a hole in the roof and been confused as part of the furniture by the idiots on Scotland Yard. Molly listened attentively, happily offering suggestions on how the forensics could have done better and giving positive commentary.

It was already dark when about one mile before their destination, Sherlock’s car stuttered to a halt and refused to start again, for some reason Molly didn’t look disappointed, in fact to Sherlock’s view the animated pathologist looked strangely at peace “ the tow truck, will be here in a while Molly” Sherlock explained after making his calls

“It’s all right, today has turned out to be a better day than I expected, I should thank you for that” Molly shook her head laughing “you’re a great detective Sherlock Holmes, it was good luck that I met you”

“The universe is rarely that lazy” Sherlock retorted using a phrase Mycroft was fond of, thinking that he would like to see Molly again after he saw her home “You said your fiance is waiting, I hope your anniversary dinner won’t be spoiled” he didn’t know why he said that, but he felt the whole car ride was driving him too close to sentiment for his liking.

“He probably IS worried crazy, but don’t worry about it, I’ll see him again eventually, when this blows over” Molly explained cryptically “I was actually surprised that you picked me up from St Margaret’s road, they say Friday 13th is known to produce it’s fair share of accidents in that area”

“I don’t believe in superstition and magic nonsense Molly, statistical analysis will tell you that any road is dangerous when the wrong driver decides to get behind the wheel” Sherlock scoffed remembering Lestrade and his poppycock excuse for staying behind while Sherlock drove himself to London

“Either way, do me a favor and don’t take that way up to London again, next time try Carsonfield Road, it’s actually shorter and less bumpy” Molly advised and in a blink Sherlock saw her face turn yellow with decay, a gruesome cut that ran from her cheek to her arm, and a collection of fresh bruises marring the skin that had been blissfully smooth all evening “It’s been a wonderful day, thank again for your help Sherlock” the corpse like vision said again and like midst in the air she vanished right before his eyes. Leaving behind only a bloody lab coat to prove she existed at all.

Later after not being able to give himself a logical explanation for what had happened, how or why or when. So many things didn’t make sense that Sherlock naturally decided to investigate. It turned out that the address she’d given him wasn’t a house in Heathrow, but a hospital, Saint Margaret’s General Hospital to be exact.

But try as he might he couldn’t find her, or any mention of her anywhere, there were really no Molly Hoopers associated with that hospital. It wasn’t until he began investigating in St Bart’s employment records that Mike Stamford took pity on him and pulled him aside to show him an old framed newspaper from the world war II era.

“I heard that you’re looking for someone called Molly and I thought you might be interested in knowing how an old road in the countryside got it’s name” Stamford said pulling up the framed picture from his filing cabinet “St Margaret’s road was called Linton Lane before the war you know” Stamford explained “around that time a general suspected of smuggling weapons to the Germans was accused of killing his own wife, everyone was sure he’d done it, except for the mortician: a woman named Margaret Hooper, she used to work here”

The story went in an identical vein to what Molly had told him the previous day, a mortician well known to have been wronged by the general gave a testimony that corroborated the man’s innocence casting a doubt over the location of a kidnapped baby. But unlike Molly’s story, she hadn’t been left on the side of the road to catch a ride home: She’d been left there to bleed out after being gruesomely stabbed multiple times and as a result for a long time nobody could pass the road without thinking about her. Hence the name of the place.

“Here I know that name, right here, William Scott… he’s one from mummy’s relatives” Sherlock realized zeroing on one of the names listed in the newspaper. He of course knew that his family tree had a smattering amount of detectives here and there, but to find out that his ancestor had been leading the investigation gave him pause.

What had Molly, if there was even a Molly in the first place, been trying to tell him?.

Apparently detective Scott launched an investigation on the officers involved in the case that Molly had been consulting on at the time of her murder, which led to Scotland Yard discovering that the wife beating general was being set up to take the fall for a superior that was using his wife and working for the Germans into creating a bomb that would have decimated half of the Parliament.

Which still didn’t tell him anything about Molly, until finally he caved and asked his mother.

“Oh Molly Hooper? She was his fiance” Mummy replied absentmindedly “you probably deleted that when I told you that you were named after a hopeless romantic” Yes Sherlock definitely had skipped that part of the family storyline “ your three times Great uncle William was going to get married shortly before her murder, tragic stuff with him, they used to exchange letters filled with love and he never recovered from losing her”

“Did he ever find out who murdered her?” Sherlock wondered thinking back to the smiling brunette who had almost stolen his heart too in the space of one road trip

“No, that’s the sad thing, William Scott closed the general’s case, but he never could find enough evidence for Molly’s murder, although he did fund a hospital in her honor using the house that would have been theirs when they got married”

“Saint Margaret’s General Hospital” Sherlock muttered with dawning realization

“So you do remember!, Well that’s all I know about the issue, I named you after him because I thought he was a very dedicated sort” And that was the end of the conversation.

Sherlock never told anybody about the little vanishing hitchhiker. He later learned that superstition or not there really were a number of unexplained car accidents around that road. When questioned the victims that swerved into trees claimed to have seen a woman in a white dress standing right in the middle of the road, some said she appeared repeatedly again and again as they drove by, and the less injured ones claimed to have been giving a kind lady a lift when their cars stopped for unexplained reasons in the middle of a well transited spot.

Sherlock never talked about her clever mind, her button nose or the way she seemed to know exactly what to say to put him at ease. So much he was distracted from the splash pattern in the lab coat that was consistent with multiple stab wounds.

Sometimes of Friday 13th he found himself talking Mycroft’s car to drive down St Margaret’s road, thinking about a ghost stuck wandering in the countryside trying to get back to her loving fiance.

And perhaps he also thought about his newfound determination to solve her murder.

[holidaysat221b]

Submitted by @escaily to the tag.

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

OMG I love!

[sweetlittlemissnothing]

You Guys!!!! Possible EXTENDED CUT If It Is True And Ben Still Dies I Will Not See It!

They have a chance to fix the mistakes and let Ben Solo LIVE! I know it’s long shot but I really hope they change his end because that is the worst shit we ever had to sit through and we could forgive them but only time will tell..

[geekyaggie14]

Look, I needed all The Lord of the Rings, and Hobbit extended editions. I needed extended editions for the original trilogy and the prequel trilogy. I want my three and a half hour long final Star Wars movie and BEN BETTER FREAKING LIVE!!! Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[reylo-solo]

Ok so Concept/Prompt: Ben and Rey’s baby daughter saying “dada” first?

Okay so I may have written this lil thing sometime after midnight last night. Enjoy!

“Mama. Can you say ‘mama?’ Ma-ma!”

“Mmm-mm—”

“Mama. So close, my love! Come on, say ‘mama!’”

“Mmmm-pbbthhh!”

Rey wrinkled up her nose and swiped the sprayed spittle off of her face with her arm, casting a look of bemused doubt at her daughter’s charming face.

“You’re fighting a losing battle, you know.”

She looked up to see Ben leaning against the doorframe, handsomely arrogant in his repose. He had that smirk on his face—the one that almost always made Rey question whether she wanted to smack him or kiss him in order to remove it. Normally she went for the latter option, but there were times he enjoyed testing her limits on that theory.

Carefully, Rey set their daughter back down onto her play pad. Instantly the infant reached up to grab one of the many plush stars that dangled from the arch of the pad. It jingled and crinkled as she squeezed and shook it in her small but mighty fist. Her chubby legs kicked ferociously with excitement.

“It’s going to be her first word. I know it will be,” Rey argued quietly. She may have been speaking as much to herself as she was to Ben.

“I have to politely, and affectionately, disagree, sweetheart.”

He took a seat on the padded floor beside her, crossing his long legs with ease. Rey watched him for a moment as he smiled down at their child. To see such tender love in his face and to know it was as fierce and everlasting as her own filled her heart with warmth. Their child would never know loneliness, or a life without love.

“And why is that?” She asked, deciding that yes, she loved him enough to take his bait, for the millionth time.

“Because,” he answered simply, “her first word is going to be dada.”

“Like hell it is!” Rey cursed.

Ben raised his eyebrows, staring pointedly in her direction.

“Oh! Sorry—like heck it is,” she corrected herself and gently rubbed the small belly of her daughter. “You didn’t hear that, did you, my little love?”

Their daughter babbled at her toy.

“That will not be her first word!” Rey bantered, pointing her finger at him.

“Oh, but it will be,” He smirked, and kissed the tip of her finger. “Trust me.”

She pulled her hand away and narrowed her eyes at him, though the corners of her mouth fought off a smile.

“She’s been trying to say mama for days now. And in all that time, she hasn’t even said so much as ‘da’, which is a pretty common term for babies,” Rey said matter-of-factly. “So what makes you so confident?”

“Who said anything about plain old confidence?” Ben quipped. “Maybe it’s just an intuition.”

“Well, your intuition is wrong.”

“Is it? I had an intuition about you once, you know. And it turned out to be right, even though you doubted it.”

“That does not apply here! Are you trying to use our love story to win this argument?”

“Depends. Is it working for me or against me?”

“Against you. Very much against you.”

“Damn. I thought it was worth a try.”

“Nothing is, when your argument is just plain old wrong.”

Rey leaned over their daughter and gently tickled the little one’s belly, making her squirm and squeal in delight.

“Yes, Daddy’s wrong, isn’t he? Isn’t he? Yes he is! We know he is!” she cooed.

Ben chuckled—a soft, warm sound that Rey loved, much like the laugh of her daughter. She smiled affectionately at the cherubic face of their wondrous creation.

She felt Ben’s fingers skirt along the side of her throat, pushing her loose hair back to tuck it behind her ear. Goosebumps erupted down her arm and her heart soared in her chest. When he spoke to her, his breath was a warm current that purled along her sensitive skin.

“Shall we make a bet?” He asked temptingly. “Who do you think I can make say daddy first: the baby, or you?”

Heat bloomed in her face and she smacked him playfully in the chest. He made an exaggerated noise of injury and fell backwards, grasping her wrist so he could pull her down onto him.

“Benjamin Solo,” she chastised as she loomed over him. “Resorting to bedroom talk? You must really be nervous.”

“Never.”

“Come, now. Just admit what you already know,” Rey purred. She ducked her head to plant three carefully-placed kisses down his throat to his clavicle. “She will say mama first.”

“Mm...in your dreams,” he sighed happily.

“‘Dada’ isn’t even in her sights yet,” Rey teased, plucking at his loose black sweater. “I’ll have her saying rhinoceros before she ever says ‘dada.’”

“Oh, you’re cruel, woman,” Ben grinned beneath her.

Without warning he grasped her by the waist and pulled her over him as though she weighed hardly a pound more than their baby. She squealed once before she felt the floor at her back and saw Ben looking down at her victoriously. That rogue grin and those dark eyes sent her mind into a tailspin, and she felt inexplicably breathless.

“But I can be cruel, too,” he murmured, ducking down to nip at her ear lobe. “And she will say dada first.”

“She will not say dada!”

With deft fingers she ran her hands up his sides, tickling him so that he squirmed and retracted on instinct, struggling to maintain his hold on her.

“She will!” He argued through tinkling laughter.

“No!”

Back and forth they fought and flirted, rolling on the floor, all while their daughter watched and giggled at their absurdity. She, with the power to end their argument once and for all, stuck her tiny tongue between her lips and blew a loud raspberry between laughs.

When Ben and Rey discovered that they were entertaining their child immensely, they continued their performance with gusto. It went on for several minutes more until finally, when her parents were nearly out of breath, the child blurted out a noise that sounded strangely recognizable.

“Da-da!”

The new parents froze in place and locked eyes with one another.

“Did she just—”

“No...”

“She said ‘dada,’ Rey. Dada.”

“She did not!”

“Oh, but she did!”

Ben practically jumped to get to their baby, happily hoisting her up in the air above his head so that she squealed in delight.

“Dada! You said dada!” He exclaimed.

He hugged her to his chest, where the little baby happily slobbered on his sweater.

He heard some sniffling and quickly turned to look at Rey. She had tears in her eyes and a shaky smile on her face, though it was half-obscured by the hand she had employed to wipe at her nose.

“Rey, are you—are you crying?” He asked worriedly, scooting across the floor to get to her, baby still in hand. “Why are you crying? Is it because she said dada first?”

Rey shook her head hard. “No, no; it’s not that. I’m crying because she just said her first word,” she explained through a bubbling sob. “She said her first word, Ben.”

His expression changed as the weight of it landed on him. This was no longer just playful teasing between two new parents. His daughter had just spoken her first technical word, and it had been his name.

“Oh, my god,” he whispered, holding their baby girl aloft and looking at her like she was glowing from within. “Oh my god.”

Rey couldn’t withhold the laughter that erupted from her chest. It wasn’t what she’d been striving for, but the moment remained perfectly blissful all the same.

As Ben embraced their daughter in a hug, she embraced the both of them. Her family. Her life. Her everything.