- - - ASPHYXIATE

[LEVI NICOLAI DELCOUR]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 390px; background-color: #000000; border-left: solid 25px #7A5252;] Who’s bright idea was it to give this man a child? Like really. Come on. He could barely even function on his own on a good day and then some unseen force with a cruel sense of humor decided to give him a baby to take care of. Who decided this stuff? The math went as followed: take one manchild and add one superbitch to get one infant, and then subtract the superbitch to leave a panic stricken manchild and an infant. At the very least he could thank the unseen forces that his son had been born completely healthy, because the last thing he would ever be able to handle was a special needs child on top of everything else. Fuck. He had no idea what he was doing. Five months of being a father and he still didn’t know what was going on. He was so stressed and terrified and kept making stupid mistakes like forgetting that he was heating up a bottle and burning his own hands while trying to fix it and putting the wrong soap in the dish washer so the kitchen was filled with bubbles. Levi loved bubbles but not when they covered his kitchen floor like freshly fallen snow on a Christmas morning. He needed help. A lot of help. Walter was fussy and hated napping and rarely slept through the night. He hadn’t had any prior experience to babies, even with there having been a pretty decent age gap between him and his little sister. Nannies had kept Levi from experiencing the typical big brother duties of helping to care for a newborn baby. He had tried, don’t get him wrong, but unsuccessfully. All he had known about babies was what basic health classes taught him, which hadn’t really been much at all. How they were made. That was about it. Levi had known that a baby was a lot of work but he had never expected it to be this hard. Then again he hadn’t seen himself having children until he was thirty and happily married. It had been five months of non-stop work. Court hearings with Courtney, his job as an illustrator for DC, moving back to Manchester, teaching, caring for his son, caring for the dog and cat. He honestly wasn’t even fully unpacked yet and he had been in Manchester since late June because he had so little time. By the end of the day he’d end up passed out on the couch only to be woken up by baby Walter’s shrill crying for a bottle. At the very least Levi had made a recently discovery that playing Eric Clapton on guitar seemed to put the little guy to sleep every time without fail, so that was a plus. As difficult as it was it was moments like that that made it all worth it. It wasn’t easy but god his son was so fucking adorable. His little baby babble was the second sweetest sound next to his giggles at being tickled or at being able to shove his little face into Edgar’s copious amounts of fluff. Walter couldn’t crawl yet but he’d figured out how to lift himself up to a forty-five degree angle and could sort of drag himself around when he got motivated enough. He’d wiggle around and try and army crawl and would slightly resemble a fish on land flopping about and it was the cutest thing ever. He’d giggle and blow spit bubbles and burry his little face in the crook of his daddy’s neck and it was just so perfect. But today that perfection was tainted by a rash he hadn’t really noticed before. The discovery of the rash wasn’t important, it was his reaction to it that was what mattered. Levi had never really been one to respond well under pressure. He actually was really bad at dealing with stuff like this. The part of his brain that was supposed to reason it out as a simple and common heat rash didn’t exist and instead he was assuming some sort of terminal disease that would only give Walter weeks to live. So Levi did the only thing he could think to do and that was to finish changing his son and then pack him into the carrier, grab the baby necessities and his keys and book it to Molly’s. He hadn’t even thought to grab his cell phone he was too busy being terrified for his son’s life. The 1948 Pontiac Sedan came to a stop in front of Molly’s and the panic struck father emerged, the carrier in one hand stuffed with Walter’s must have blanket and platypus plush toy and the Batman diaper bag in the other. He knocked rapidly and bounced on his heels impatiently to the point where when Molly finally opened the door he jumped and almost dropped the diaper bag. “Help,”

[/color] was his little plea with irrational fear plastered on his stupid little manly face. It wasn’t the first time he had shown up with such an expression at dinner time.

[/div]

Pictures flashing by inside my head I'm hanging by a thread But I'd do it all again, hey, I keep running away, running away, Running

bring it on back to me

tag: dollie/molly words: 845, outfit: this, notes: oh what'r we going to do with him

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[molly irene haralson]

here i am, a rabbit hearted girl, frozen in the light,

Dinnertime at the Haralson household was always an animated endeavor. The way Molly's days were structured, it was usually a late one as well. With waking up for a morning jog, coming home to take Boo out, making coffee and heading out to the daily grind to attempt to teach overweight but well-meaning people how to balance on their heads, she usually didn't have much time or will to make dinner after she came home and showered. So she lazed around on the couch for a good hour or so, watched some reality television - which she hated but had been sucked into somehow - and then finally got up to cook dinner when Boo ended up whining loudly. He was usually fed after she finished cooking, so he seemed to always be overly keen on her starting. The cooking itself, however, was a rather theatrical thing. The woman would kick on the radio built in above her countertop, pull out whatever ingredients she needed for her meal, and end up dancing around the kitchen or singing to a celery stalk or carrot or equally microphone-like vegetable. Tonight was no different. She'd set a pot of water on the stove to boil and was chopping up tomatoes for a sauce while Boo watched from the kitchen archway, his eyes keen and his head tilted slightly to the side as he watched her dice the tomatoes.

"What is it, Boo Boo?" She asked the dog when he whined at her. The great dane stood up, a massive creature. Molly wasn't exactly tall, at five foot four she was just under average, and being pretty thin - and having a plethora of tall male friends - she was the subject of more than a few height jokes. Corbin was particularly fond of them, never seemed to let her live down the fact that he had moved to Texas, spiked his water with growth hormone and grown five or six inches. Boo was no exception to this rule, either. The dog came up to her waist at his shoulder, and he could easily slobber all over her face with as little effort as raising his head upright. He stood beside her and leaned against her hip, a habit he had developed in his puppyhood that she had neglected to train out of him. With a mumbled, exasperated sound, Molly sidestepped to keep her balance with the added weight. "Seriously, Boo?" She laughed as the dog looked up at her, then back at the cutting board. She had taught him that the counter was off limits, and he was a generally obedient dog. He had to be, being heavier and bigger than she was; Boo was more horse than he was dog. The classic rock station's song changed to some Springfield, and Molly danced mutedly around her kitchen to the song. Boo whined when she dropped the tomatoes into the saucepan and headed over to put the noodles in the water. "I wanna tell her that I love her but the point is probably moot." She walked back over to Boo, who was watching her. He did it every night, and always seemed to position himself just hazardously enough for her to trip over his leg or his shoulder and nearly fall flat on her face. Depositing her knife on the counter, Molly grabbed either side of the great dane's massive face and leaned down to sing to him. "Cause she's watching him with those eyeeees, and she's lovin' him with that body, I just know it! And he's holdin' her in his arms, late late at niiiight." She laughed at the dog's blank expression, moved to wash her hands and continued fixing dinner.

When she was done, she set the spaghetti out long enough to fill Boo's food dish, which he happily bounded over to in three short strides. In fact, she was just about to sit down when Boo stopped eating and perked up his ears. Not a moment later, rapid knocking - or rather, beating - sounded from her front door and the loud, hound-like howls of Boo followed shortly thereafter. She followed him to the door, where he stood intently, nose pressed into the crease of the jamb. Peering through the peep hole and seeing Liam, complete with diaperbag and Walt, she pulled Boo back by the collar and shushed him. "Just a friend, Boo." The dog seemed placated enough by the answer and stepped a few feet away, tail wagging eagerly as Molly pulled the door open. Not a second after she was greeted by a somewhat frazzled looking Liam, who uttered a single word. Help. Had it been the first time - and in fact, on the first time - Molly would have been excessively worried. She was a worrier after all, that was what she did best. But it happened often enough that Molly knew the new father likely wasn't in any real trouble, and just as likely, neither was Walter. The blonde woman smiled at her friend and his child. "Calm down." She directed, voice assertive. Molly, when she wasn't in the middle of worrying, was rather good at diffusing situations. The only problem was she was usually the one on the worrying end, not the solving end. "Hello Walter!" Her voice became a little higher when addressing the baby, and she ushered the two into the house hastily. Boo, dutifully, sat by and wagged his tail with enough force to thump loudly against the wall. "Now, what's the matter? Did he cough? Sneeze? Is he eating properly? Colicky?" She rattled off the most immediate baby ailments she could think of as she herded the two into the livingroom where Levi could sit and explain the situation.

WORDS --- / OUTFIT / TAGGED DEE & LEVI ft WALT / oh jeez