May 6, 2024
Sorry to everyone who knows me in real life because two things I'm mildly obsessed with are both happening this week. I'm about to be soooooooo insufferable
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Sorry to everyone who knows me in real life because two things I'm mildly obsessed with are both happening this week. I'm about to be soooooooo insufferable
just found out this photo of miss ashley johnson exists, you are welcome
I think it’s a wonderful picture, Lili and Addy being the central focus. The look on Lili’s face is pure happiness, which Cole would pertain to being with her family. He’s there too, nervously on the sidelines, not wanting to overstep or intrude on the family holiday. Little does he know, it’s because he’s there Lili’s smiling so wide. Because he’s with her family, spending time with Addy, helping with the festivities, becoming best friends with her dogs. Because, after so much their relationship being subject to speculation, hushed whispers, invasions of privacy from strangers, she is able to just be with him, in the comfort of her home, unapologetically so.
Meaning
Have some angst because I needed an outlet. Related to Abby’s canon, a scene mentioned in Just Like Heaven and Wicked Game. Also directly related to the one shot I wrote a few months back, On Lovers’ Lips.
CW: death and grief. Under a cut for length.
“Mrs. Henderson, is there anyone you can call tonight? So that you’re not -”
“No. There isn’t. I’m - I will be - fine.”
“If you’re certain…”
“I am. When will - when will his body be released?”
“Once - once the investigation is complete. I am sorry, it can’t be sooner than that.”
“I understand.”
“We’ll catch the person who did this. We’ll do everything we can.”
“...Thank you.”
“He - he had this, with him. It got some dirt on it, but - you - you should have it.”
“...oh…”
The sound of the deadbolt was loud, final, cementing that she was the only one coming through the door tonight.
No, not just tonight…
She didn’t bother with the lights, and instead made her way to the threadbare sofa in the living room by memory. She didn’t bother taking her coat off, or her shoes, or setting her bag down. Sinking onto the cushions she held the bag of belongings in her lap, unwilling to let it go.
The emptied leather wallet, his keys, his license, and the small pink teddy bear - the only items they had been able to give her. His denim jacket had been covered in -
Jackie took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she tried to steady herself. It didn’t feel as if it had sunk in, not yet, but she couldn’t stop thinking about how she had so few belongings of him left in this bag. Even his wedding ring was gone, and she doubted - no, she knew that she would never see it again.
When the sun rose, she would have to call his mother. It was after three in the morning, and she couldn’t bring herself to do it now. For now, she was the only one who knew he was gone, and somehow that made it feel less real to her. Once she called, once she said it out loud, it would make it real, something she couldn’t take back. A finality she would have to accept.
Alone.
The word echoed through her mind, reverberating and pounding against her skull, shattering the numbness that she had felt at the police station.
Alone.
Alone.
He was gone. Just like that, he’d gone out to run an errand, and now he’d never return.
An ironic smile twisted the corner of her mouth as the word unfair flitted across her mind. They hadn’t even been married for half a year, and before that it had hardly been a year since he’d walked into that bookstore and told her he was going to marry her. He had known, from the first moment he saw her, and had told her every day since.
Now, she’d never hear his voice again, never see him walk through the door to tell her how happy he was to come home to her every day.
The feeling must have been delayed until now, sitting in the oppressive near-silence of their tiny Brooklyn apartment. Beyond the windows she could hear the late night traffic as if it was coming to her from a great distance, distorted and strange because it was only the noise of a city, of strangers.
The noise of a world without Michael Henderson.
Tears stung her eyes, surprising her with their sudden appearance. She hadn’t cried when the police told her, hadn’t cried when they handed her the bag that included the pink teddy bear he had gone out to buy as a surprise, hadn’t cried when they offered her their condolences.
But now, sitting in the dark world that was a life without her heart, bitter tears ran down her cheeks as she tried desperately to catch her breath. This pain in her chest wouldn’t disappear, clenching so tightly she felt as if a metal vice was crushing her.
A world without him - that wasn’t life, wasn’t worth living. It was darkness without light, a world without beauty or joy, a sky without color or the warmth of the sun. There was no point to keep going in a world where he no longer existed, where she couldn’t see his smile or listen to him talk about his passions and whims with that wonderful sparkle that came into his chocolate brown eyes.
The bag slid off her lap as she clutched the pink teddy bear in her hands, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole, or wishing that she could simply lay down and pass into oblivion. How could she move forward after this?
There was no point.
A sharp, abrupt pain in her stomach jolted her straight up, her tears pausing as she gave a soft gasp of surprise. Another roiling motion, strange and unfamiliar, followed, and she rested her hand on her slightly rounded belly. For a moment nothing - and then again a feeling almost like a jab or kick to the spine.
It - no, she - hadn’t moved quite this much yet. Even earlier that day, during the ultrasound, it - she - had been mostly still no matter how the doctor and technician had tried to encourage movement. Now, the child within her was rolling and kicking incessantly as if -
As if reminding Jackie of her presence.
Her tears had ceased just as suddenly as they’d appeared, though she still gave shuddering breaths as she sat stock still on the sofa, hand on her stomach as she focused on the feeling of movement. A strange fear overcame her that if she moved it would stop, and so she sat waiting, simply finding a strange joy in the sensation.
Not alone.
In her grief it was as if she had forgotten, but it - she - his child - was kicking with so much life, and Jackie couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew. Somehow, she had to - she had never kicked like this, had never moved so much, but it didn’t feel as if something was wrong. Instead it almost felt like impatience, an eagerness to join her mother sooner, a reminder - something left behind by him.
Slowly the kicking stilled, the baby comfortable now that Jackie wasn’t heaving with sobs or fixating on the silence of being alone. Having made her point, the baby settled once more, but instead of feeling her grief return an intense, almost manic energy filled Jackie. Hopping to her feet, she clasped the pink bear tightly in her hand and hurried to the bookshelf in the living room.
They had bought the book a few weeks ago, knowing that soon they would find out the gender. In their quiet evenings they had laid together in bed, flipping through and testing out names, letting them roll off their tongues to see what sounded best.
“Jane Marie Henderson.”
“No, Michael - that’s so plain. Plain Jane Marie.”
“I was just going classic and simple, and Jane was my grandmother, but you’re right - hm. What about - Nancy.”
“Nancy Henderson...no. It just - what will we call her for short? Nan? Cy?”
“All right, how about - Benjamin, for a boy?”
“Benjamin Henderson - too rhyme-y.”
“You suggest a few then.”
“Bram for a boy -”
“We are not naming our son after Bram Stoker -”
“What about Claude? For Monet.”
“Next you’ll say Jackson like Pollack…”
“No, I know that’s not your style.”
“We should pick something with meaning. Something that - they’ll always carry with them. There’s beauty in meaning, I think we should choose a name that means something, doesn’t just sound good.”
“I like that.”
“I knew you would. Jackie...I’m so happy.”
“Do you - do you care what it is?”
“No. I’ve always wanted a daughter. And a son. I’ll be happy with whatever, so long as everyone’s healthy, so long as it’s yours and we’re together.”
“I agree. Together.”
Jackie snatched the book off the top of the overflowing pile before the shelves, opening it and flipping to the index of meanings.
Meaning - something to carry with her. Michael had been ecstatic, earlier that day - only a few hours before, really. The image of his watery smile, the tears he’d wanted to shed when they’d found out it was a girl, that he would have a daughter -
A father’s joy.
She smiled when she saw the meaning, following the number listed to the correct page, knowing that she would love it, no matter what it was. A name that would always make Jackie think of him and how he had given her this part of him, a name that would tell her daughter about the father she had lost before she ever even knew him. A name that made certain she always knew how much he had loved her, so that she would never doubt.
“Abigail,” Jackie read aloud, smiling softly to herself. Another soft kick, and she rested her hand on her stomach, accepting the action as approval. “Abigail Henderson. Yes...that’s perfect, isn’t it, Michael?”
Beneath her fingers his daughter kicked once more, and tears welled in her eyes even as she smiled to herself.
Kinky
Real Life Friend, asks me who I ship (in Gravity Falls)
Me, answering with stupid made up ships like Fiddlestan and stuff that takes like 8 reaches to get too
Her, answers back with “oh ya know...Wendip”
(I forgot that was a ship because I was so busy thinking about Ford/Mothman)
Jimstan has been on the mind lately, and I think I got an okay idea (or twelve) to write out
