#I talk to my dog and to toddlers at work more than I talk to people my age 🙃🙃🙃

[themoonunderstoodmydadjokes]

I need to have a real, in person, deep conversation about anything and everything, I need to laugh with someone and share ideas and opinions and thoughts and and and…. 🫠🫠🫠

[corseque]

On the scale of 1 (Rise of Skywalker) to 10 (Shadowbringer/Endwalker), where would you place Veilguard?

critical post

I’ve burst into enraged tears like 5 times since I finished it, which is not nearly even close to as many times as Rise of Skywalker, but still 5 times too many. Just the shallowness of the writing, the obviousness, the incredible frustration at the simplicity, the ignoring so much of my favorite character in order to make a stupidly simple plot work, the horrendous time I had trying to ignore Rook’s annoying stupid fuckass pov while just trying to self-insert myself into the end of my favorite fictional character of all time’s story after waiting 10 years. I screamed in frustration that I had to hear the painfully obvious commentary these brand newcomer characters who I did not give a shit about, explaining to me like a toddler how I should feel about revelations I have been writing about for 10 years, especially when what they were saying was stupid as fuck. I cried at the thought of so many cutscenes and so much effort went into stories I found very forgettable and went nowhere, while they were able to only scrounge up like 10 total animated shots reuniting Solas and Lavellan. I mourn that I could not make any decisions in a BioWare game. I mourn Solas’ story so much, and probably will for years. I will never get over the way they talked down to him and never listened to him for even a second, lest they actually have to write a branching path into their game. I hate that the theme was regret but Rook regrets nothing ever so (shrugs) regret doesn’t affect them or mean anything to them. I mourn the loss of the voice and point of view of his people, the ones he was fighting for, the ones who are alive. I mourn that it turns out that he’s just a stupid feral dog who is 100% wrong about everything always and he always has been from the beginning of time. I cried that the game said the answer was that Solas should NOT try to help his people and they never even discussed it as a philosophical question or the ethics of it or anything, or playing as a character so dense they never once even wondered if accidentally freeing the gods killed more people overall than the veil coming down would have. (We avoided this question like the plague, lest we feel less like purely Good Heroes who could talk down to the gods with righteous fury). I mourn that I’m never going to know what would have happened without the Veil. I feel so stupid for thinking that elves or spirits as factions would appear in any capacity with lines and perspectives in this game. I’m so angry at how safe and smoothed over everything in the setting is, and how it felt like the main characters never struggled with anything and have nothing to say. I can’t believe Dragon Age is so shallow and unsatisfying and head-empty. I mourn that the story of Dragon Age is Over to me and I will never play another game.

I’ve also cried a few times at the completely separated and individual imagery and music in the last scene. I’ve cried that my favorite character didn’t die in any world after 10 years of being at death’s door. I’ve cried at the thought of him being a little worm spirit, and that I was right about him the whole time. I cried when activating Felassan’s crystal in the final fight and seeing all the buffs. I cried when I turned the page and realized the default inquisitor was exactly the same as my personal Lavellan, down to hair style, eye color, hair color, vallaslin removed. I cried when I realized Solas thought he should have died as a spirit rather than be born. I cried that the main story Dragon Age has been telling the whole time has been about the reconciliation and freeing of my favorite fictional character. I cried that Solas and Lavellan got married in the end, when I genuinely wasn’t expecting either of them to even be alive. They’re both still alive and in love in every single world. I can’t wrap my head around that.

I have no idea where to put it. It’s a few high highs but some intolerably low fucking lows. It could have been so much worse but the bar is on the fucking floor. I go back and forth between moderate enjoyment to just being so angry. It could have been so much more and I do not know who to bite for it.

I have no idea.

[seat-safety-switch]

A lot of people are talking shit about my dog, Senator Testicles, just because he's enormous, very poorly trained, and about as smart as a Proctor-Silex toaster oven. Yeah, not even a Breville.

What the haters don't understand is that what he lacks in smarts, he makes up for in charm. Just look at that sweet little dumb-ass face. He doesn't really have enough charm to also make up for his total lack of obedience, though. If I'm understanding your complaints properly, that's what the real problem is here, right?

Things have been rough around my household ever since the landlord went missing. I used to have to sweep a bunch of grease-stained, barely-salvageable car and moped parts into the closet whenever he dropped by for a regular inspection. Kept me in a routine, you know, which is important. Now that he's gone and presumed extremely dead, I needed some other reason to keep a rhythm instead of working on shitboxes until I passed out from exhaustion.

Senator Testicles showed up at the right time to make sure that I was living for someone other than myself. Namely, I was visiting the city pound to see if the turbo on the dogcatcher's van had bolts that were accessible from the bottom. While I was there, though, they told me that they had a dog who was a special case. Completely hopeless. A real project. A used dog, I asked?

They nodded, and offered some cash on the hood for me to take this stupid fucking animal away from their once-pristine dog pound before he ate through the bathroom wall again. It's brick, you know, down there. Well, not brick. That kind of weird expanded painted brick, like you see in elementary schools. Sorry, I digress, I keep getting off topic when I'm stressed in moments like now, where the whole town has turned up to crucify me for owning a rescue dog. Wait, is that a real crucifix? You better be coming back from Easter cosplay there, buddy.

I think we can all agree that, as bad as Senator Testicles has been in my ownership, it would be far worse if I were not here to regulate his worst impulses. For instance, the other day at the park, he tried to pick up a toddler and eat him. I gently said "no," and followed it up with a stern "drop it," which is more than certain really bad owners would do. By the way, Fred, I am so thankful to you and the other firefighters for helping me pull little Timmy out of Senator's jaws and looking the other way while we hid in that drainage culvert until the cops left. You guys are the real working-class heroes.

[avocado-writing]

Hiii!!!

I just saw that you reopened your requests and I was wondering if you could do some extended headcanons with Wade, Reader and Logan when they first have the baby??

Lifes been shit and I need some Domestic fluff with my favorite old yaoi duo 😋

Baby has a crib, but she’s never put down. She’s always in someone’s arms even when she’s sleeping - Logan runs hot so he’s her preferred bassinet, especially because his own sleep schedule is pretty bad so it makes sense for him to take the night shift with her held close to his chest and the tv on quietly in the background. (he’s usually looking at her rather than the show though, wondering how he finally got so lucky).

Wade definitely doesn’t make enough money to justify the amount he spends on her. But the little onesie was so cute, he couldn’t not get it. Or she was “definitely staring at that teddy bear and I couldn’t say no to that face!” “Wade, she’s two months old and barely see faces. I’m sure she wasn’t after a fifty-dollar toy.” “You weren’t there, pookie. You didn’t see her little face…”

Logan and Wade both stare at you when you’re holding baby. Idiots are completely love struck. They’ll stare with dopey smiles plastered on their faces until you tell them to cut it out… and even then they might not.

As baby becomes a toddler, Logan’s the one who’s good at getting her to eat her dinner, but Wade is the one who’s more liable to give in and just get her some ice cream when she hits him with the big puppy-dog eyes. She has both of them wrapped around her little finger though, and more than once you’ve come home from work to find her asleep on the couch with them after they agreed to put on some sickening Disney princess movie long after her bedtime. (“It’s fine, I’m basically a Disney princess.” “Wade what are you talking about?”)

They adore her though. She loves holding your hand as you walk along but really loves being between the two of them, so they can lift her up and swing her as she screams in delight.

You’ve never been so happy than with your strange, sweet little family 🩷

[uh-oh-its-bird]

Offshoot of my "team Ro time travels to the founders era" post because @prinzgnomeovonchaos infected me with brain rot in the notes

So buckle in baby it's time for

Sakumo and babyKashi time traveling to the warring states ✨️

So first thing to get out of the way; Modern Hatake's and warring states era Hatake's do not hold up to the same standards.

The Hatake's during the states were a very small clan with a very big reputation. Hailing from Iron, they were an almost famous wild clan even all the way in fire country. Distantly related to the Inuzuka's but leaning more towards wolves than dogs.

They had a proper kekkei genkai and everything, unnaturally fast and strong, often born with some form of enhanced senses— be it smell, sight, taste, or even touch. Their white chakra fed into it, and they'd feed their chakra with diets of raw meat and the occasional light cannibalism during some special clan celebrations and rituals.

Unfortunatley Sakumo knows very little about the above because he was very young when his clan was pretty much all wiped out. He was raised by the only other survivor, his grandmother, who was pretty young herself when the clan got wiped, and unfortunatley was never all too concious of many of the rituals and traditions of her clan until it was too late.

Sakumo grew up to village standards and was mostly declawed because of it, and Kakashi is only doubly so. And with that dulling of all the different traditions and specific diets also came the slow fading of their bloodline limit, which was already pretty subtle if you didn't know what you're looking for.

Anyways moving on, and if you want more details for my headcanons ab warring states Hatake's vs modern standard Hatake's look at my other time travel post bc I talk ab it more there.

So Kakashi is like 6 (holy shit he's a BABY baby)

Google keeps giving me conflicting numbers for Sakumo's age at his death so we're just gonna shrug and say he's in his early 30's.

Then for the founders;

Madara (23)

Hashirama (23)

Izuna (19)

Tobirama (18)

Sakumo is staring at these guys going through it bc they are BABIES to him. And like look, he's used to working with or even occasionally under people much younger than him, but like. Oh man that's the shodai hokage. And he's like a toddler.

(He's a 23 year old man but Sakumo is kind of having a crisis so he can't register that)

So like. All the founders have major daddy issues, right? Like we can all agree that's plausible? I'm so sorry I just think it'd be *really fucking funny* if they look at Sakumo and just kinda. Yeah.

You know what I mean.

Anyways;

No idea how they got there!! This is set maybe a week before Sakumo offed himself but now he can't kill himself bc that'd mean abandoning Kakashi to the fucking warring states.

Kakashi fits the warring states standards alarmingly well actually. Honestly I think even for that time period he's still scarily young to be on the field. People are giving Sakumo looks like 'it's so hard what we've been forced to do to our children, the battles we've pushed them into, the things they've seen and done all too young'

Sakumo is going *hrrg.* and having a good long look in the mirror actually. Proper crisis, lots of guilt, Kakashi should not be out in the field this young and at least before he was mostly getting baby missions but now they're stranded in time and keep running head first into trouble.

I want Izuna and Kakashi to fight and even though Kakashi absoloutley should NOT win that battle I want him to win just so that Madara and Tobirama can make fun of him for losing to an actual child

Izuna is mortified he wants that brat DEAD

Uhh I have some more but I'm at work and actually hit post too early on this post so I had to come back to rush add all these edits bc I meant for it to stay a draft I could keep adding too later. So I'll just come add more later fr

[dfortrafalgar]

Bring Your Daughter(s) To Work Day

Law x Fem Reader (kinda)

When the babysitter cancels last minute, Law is forced to bring his daughters to work with him, and deal with the emotions they unknowingly make him feel.

A/N: SURPRISE- BONUS CHAPTER FOR IMLY!!! this came to me suddenly and i hammered it out. this can be read as a standalone, but i wrote it with the intention of it being directly connected to the universe of my long form fic "I'm Losing You"

Warnings: nothing but pure fluff here, folks. established relationship, third person POV, reader is only present in the beginning and end of the story, some suggestive language sprinkled throughout but nothing explicit

[IMLY Masterlist]

Law watched with dejected eyes as his wife dropped her head into her hands, a harsh groan leaving her lips.  Under her breath, quiet enough so her kids couldn’t hear her profanity, she uttered, “Fuck.”

“Let me guess,” Law mumbled.  ���She canceled?”

“This is the last time we use this babysitter,” she growled, turning off her phone and flipping it upside down so the screen faced the table, ignoring whatever incoming messages might appear.  “It’s going to be too late to find any sitters now, and their school doesn’t start for another week.  It’s not like we can just drop them off somewhere or leave them here alone.”  She picked up her gaze, her eyebrows furrowed in deep concern.  “Law… I can’t miss this interview.”

“I know, baby,” he whispered back, reaching his hand across the kitchen table to stroke her clenched fist.  “You’re not going to.”

“Do you have a plan, then?”

Law bit the inside of his cheek as he searched his mind for any feasible solution.  One of the biggest interviews of his wife’s career was on the following day, ever since she cordially parted with her last job after having their twins.  She spent the first year of their life physically recovering from the birth, as well as having her tubes tied to prevent any more reproductive issues, the couple happily deciding that they were fine with two children.  The following toddler years were spent at home with Cora and Rose, his wife being assisted by Uncle Shachi, Uncle Penguin, and Auntie Ikkaku whenever they were free.  On days where Law was out of work, he made sure his wife was completely hands-off, taking his daughters out so his wife could spend some much needed time alone or out with her own friends.  The two had a comfortable balance, allowing for ample time spent with each other, their daughters, as well as valuing their personal lives.  Law’s cardiothoracic surgeon salary was more than enough to afford comfortable living in their small house filled with two six-year-old girls and a dog, but he could tell his wife was desperate to get back to a working schedule again.  There was never an issue with having more income, after all, and the doctor knew his wife was never one for the stay-at-home lifestyle for the long-term.

“I’ll bring them with me,” he stated suddenly.  His face remained completely neutral.

“What?” she yelped, standing from her chair.  “Law, you can’t.  You’re a doctor.”

“I don’t have any operations tomorrow, and I’m only working 12 hours.  I’ll bring them with me when I leave at 9, and you can pick them up after your interview,” he explained.  “I have plenty of staff, and there’s a children’s room in the cardiac ward.  They’ll have things to do and people to talk to.”

His wife frantically searched her husband’s face for any sign of indifference or reluctance to his own claim.  Finding none, she slowly sank back into her chair.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re absolutely positive?”

“I am.”

“And you promise to not traumatize them?”

Law pursed his lips.  The week prior, he found his girls in the backyard poking a dead, gutted rabbit with a stick.  He didn’t think he had much to worry about.  “I promise.”

Finally letting her shoulders relax, his wife slumped over and rested her forearms on the kitchen table, plopping her head against them and shielding her face from the world.  A small chuckle exited Law’s lips as he stood and rounded the furniture, coming to rest behind his wife and placing his deft hands on her shoulders, massaging the knots out of her tired muscles.  She visibly relaxed even more from his touch, almost as if she was melting from the motions of his hands.

“You always know exactly what to do to make me feel better,” she sighed, tossing a glance at her smirking husband from over her shoulder.

“Everything’s going to work out.  You’ll do amazing at your interview, the girls will behave themselves at work, and we’ll all live happily ever after,” he hummed, leaning down to plant a tender kiss on the back of her head.

“Can you bring home ice cream tomorrow?” she asked, her voice finally regaining its light and airy demeanor as her sullen mood finally lifted.

“Of course.”

—

“Girls.”

Law’s stern golden eyes looked in the rear-view mirror, watching as Cora and Rose immediately snapped their attention to their father from the backseat.  Rose clenched a book in her small hands, well above her age’s reading level, while Cora fiddled around with the broken arm of a Stealth Black action figure.

“Remember to be on your absolute best behavior today, alright?” he stated firmly.  “I’ll be around to check on you both for most of the day, but when I’m not there, you need to be good for the nurses.”

“We know, daddy,” Cora chirped.  “Mama told us you’d be coming home with ice cream if we were good.”

“I’ll be coming home with ice cream regardless,” he replied, a small smile growing on his lips.  “But if you’re not good, you won’t be getting any.  It’ll just be for Mommy and I.”

He laughed as his daughters screeched from the backseat, flabbergasted at the mere insinuation that they might not get a share of any delectable treats.  Fondness welled in his heart as he listened to the twins bicker over their shared behavior.  Through their short six years on Earth, they had already grown into strong, individualistic young ladies who were practically inseparable.  Law cried on every single birthday.  They had turned him into quite a softie.

His foot gently depressed the break of his car as he turned into the sprawling hospital’s parking garage, driving up the ramps to the third floor and slipping into a parking space reserved for staff.  He diligently grabbed the large childcare bag from the passenger seat, slinging it over his shoulder before proceeding to free Rose from her restrictive (but very safe) car seat, followed by Cora, who clambered to get out of the car and holler into the echoing abyss of the parking garage, giggling at the way her voice bounced off the concrete pillars and walls surrounding her.  Rose held her hands over her ears, cringing at the sound.

“Get it out of your system now, baby, you can’t be yelling like that in the hospital,” Law uttered, grabbing each girl by the hand and slowly walking with them toward the hospital’s entrance connected to the parking garage by a small hallway and two elevator shafts.

Rose firmly gripped her father’s hand in her right, clutching her book in her left.  Cora skipped along, tripping over her feet, and sang into the air.  “Gather up all of the crew!  It’s time to ship out Binks’ brew!  Sea wind blows, to where?  Who knows!  The waves will be our guide!”

Rose mumbled, her small voice whiny and irritated.  “Cora, you’ve been singing that all day.”

“I love that song!” the younger girl retorted, almost stepping on Law’s foot.  “Uncle Luffy taught it to me.”

Law bit back a smirk, yet rolled his eyes in mock annoyance.  Leave it to that boisterous man to introduce his daughters to the life of high-stakes maritime activity.  He’d be lying if he said playing pirates with his girls wasn’t some of the most fun he’d had recently, however.  It only took a bit of a negative turn when Cora, pretending to be the infamous Blackbeard, landed a punch against Law’s groin so harsh it made him double over.  It wasn’t like she knew any better, but amidst his wife’s worried yet hysterical laughter, he wondered if that blow was enough to make him infertile.

He shrugged the thought into the back of his head, releasing Rose’s gentle hand to press the elevator button, leading his girls into the small space and watching in silence as the doors closed in front of them, carrying them down two levels to the cardiac ward.

“Daddy?” Rose asked, looking up at him.  “What do you do all day?”

Law pondered briefly.  “On days where I don’t have operations, I usually do rounds for patients.”

“What are rounds?” asked the curly-haired girl.  

“I go from room-to-room and assess each person’s health and how they’re doing,” he explained.

“Can we join you?” Cora suddenly asked, staring up at her father with her own large, golden eyes.

“I’m afraid not, sweetpea.”

The younger twin pouted before suddenly growing frazzled out of nowhere.  “I LEFT MY ACTION FIGURE IN THE CAR!!!”

Rose quickly covered her ears again at her sister’s shrill scream.

“We’ll get it later, baby,” Law tried to console.  He nervously glanced at the LCD screen above the button panel, about to reach the first floor.  “I can get it for you on my lunch break.  Can you wait until then?”

Cora’s face was growing flushed as she puffed out her cheeks, her eyes welling with heavy crocodile tears.  “But I want him now!  He’s going to die in the car!”

Law rubbed a hand over her hair.  “He won’t die.”

“He will!”

“I’ll save him before he does,” he said back.  “Shhh, keep your voice down, baby.”

Rose removed her hands from her ears with an audible, relieved sigh.  Cora was appeased… for now.  She’d have to deal with profound, inescapable boredom until noon, or at least until her mom came to pick the two up and save them from the children’s room at the hospital.

All things considered, the girls were fantastically behaved.  They watched on quietly as Law scanned his badge to enter the high-security corridors leading to the cardiothoracic ward, nodding a wordless hello to the various nurses and doctors who passed by, each offering fond, excited smiles to the young girls.  The long, winding hallways of the hospital were ginormous in comparison to the twins, who were used to the much smaller hallways of their kindergarten building, but they kept their hands in their father’s as he led them to his ward.

“Can you remember what I said in the car?” the surgeon asked, scanning his badge over one last electronic box on the wall, the click of the door’s lock signaling its opening.

“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Rose obediently replied, more excited to be able to get back to her reading in peace.

“We promise,” Cora added.  She opened her small mouth one more time, as if to add a second thought, but quickly shut her jaw and stared straight ahead.  Law cocked an eyebrow at the display, but didn’t question it further.  If the little girl had an issue, she would immediately let him know.

There was a children’s room, which was really just a small space situated behind one of the nurses stations, used primarily for families with very small children.  When a person would be admitted to the cardiac ward, any potential juvenile visitors were welcome to use the children’s area to remove them from the otherwise clinical, scary environment of the hospital.  The entire space was stocked with coloring books, light reading for ages 4-10, building blocks, and other miscellaneous playthings, all thoroughly sanitized before and after each visit.

When Law rounded the corner into the doorway of the children’s area, Rebecca was crouched down on the floor, diligently wiping down a set of large plastic building blocks with a sanitizing wipe.  Her large, brown eyes glimmered as she saw Cora and Rose, having not seen them in quite some time.  It wasn’t like Law brought them to work often.

“There are the guests of honor!” sang the pink-haired woman, discarding the wipe into a nearby trash receptacle and hurrying toward her superior and his two excited daughters.  The girls pulled away from their dad and hugged Rebecca’s legs, instantly remembering the warm smile and bright laughter of the nurse who happily knelt to their level and pulled them to her chest.  “It’s so wonderful to see you two again!”

“Let me know if they give you any trouble, Rebecca,” Law sighed, smiling at the sight albeit scrunching his eyebrows at the potential his children had for causing petty issues.  They were their mother’s daughters, after all.  Their well-behaved exterior made room for some very sinister six-year-old schemes.

“How could these sweet angels cause any trouble at all?” Rebecca giggled, ruffling Rose’s head of thick, curly black hair.  “I will, though, sir.  No problem at all.”

“I’ll be back in about two hours for my short break.  Cora, Rose…” the surgeon called their names, alerting their attention once more.

The silence in the room was palpable as Law brought two of his fingers to his eyes, gesturing his hand toward their faces as if giving a silent threat that he had his eye on them, even if not in the same room.  He had a playful smirk on his face as he did so, leading Cora to stick her tongue out at her dad.  Rose gave her sister a light shove, harshly whispering about the ice cream reward still looming over their heads.

—

Two hours and far too many patient rounds finally came and went before Law was able to take a short break, proceeding to the children’s room with his ample amount of paperwork in an accordion binder held in his arms.  He’d be able to get some time to work on it while sitting on the floor at the squatted table while he gave his nurse a much needed reprieve from his daughters.  While marching through the long hallways of the cardiac ward, the surgeon pulled out his phone and smiled at the text that had come in from his wife, about 30 minutes prior.

Mama What do you think of this fit???  I mean, im going with it, but do i look hot and professional?

Mama [1 Image Attachment]

Mama Right answers only.  Also, are the girls behaving alright???

His wife did indeed look stunning.  Her curves fit elegantly into a sharp, black pencil skirt that flared slightly below her knees.  Sheer tights complimented her supple skin, and sophisticated yet casual wedge heels boosted her height by a good inch or so.  She was posing in the mirror of their bedroom, one hip jutted out propping up her free hand that she graced over her waist.  A trendy blouse was tucked into the skirt, the top few buttons still undone.  Grinning down at his phone and holding his folder tighter against his abdomen, he fumbled to type out a response while walking.

You know you look stunning, baby.  Absolutely gorgeous.  You’re going to do up those top buttons, though, right?

He watched the incoming message bubble appear and disappear a few times before her response came in.

Mama Duh, i was just hoping that showing off some cleavage would give me extra points with you <3

Law fought to bite down the chuckle that rose in his throat, not wanting to attract attention. As long as I get to undo those buttons later.  He was feeling bold today.

Mama Ice cream first, sex later.  Love you baby <333

Law quickly shoved his phone into his pocket after thumbing out a quick good luck message for her upcoming interview, which she was surely traveling to at that very moment.  He pushed open the door to the children’s room, quickly pushing back any inappropriate thoughts of his beautiful wife and smiling at the sight of his daughters.

Cora was in the middle of utilizing every single building block the room had to build a convoluted structure that took a plethora of odd shapes.  She was being assisted by another young girl who’s curious violet eyes watched inquisitively at each new block added to the structure.  Rose was in the adult-sized chair across the room, her nose buried in a new book.  Judging by her original book on the floor by the legs of the chair, she had finished that one after only two days.  A new literary record.  Rebecca was absent from the room, most likely having left to continue her own duties, but judging by the faint smell of light cleaning alcohol in the room, she hadn’t been gone long.

With a smile, Law sat on the floor across from his daughter’s, and the new girl’s, strange structure.  “What are you building?”

“A submarine.  Can’t you tell?” Cora replied, placing a pink-colored block on top of an ominously leaning stack.

The new girl, who’s hair was a deep shade of purple, stared at Law with huge, curious eyes before a cheeky grin broke out on her face.  “Are you the doctor taking care of my papa?” she asked.

Law grinned.  “Could be.  Who’s your papa?”

“Tenguyama Hitetsu,” she confirmed cheerily.  “Well, he’s not actually my papa, but he also is.”

A lightbulb clicked on in his head.  He had just been in Mr. Tanguyama’s room, and had no idea that the elderly man had any child under his care.  It was then he remembered that the man had described a young girl as his ‘student’ rather than ‘daughter,’ but he still spoke about her with such fond language.  Kurozumi Tama.

“Tama’s been helping me build,” blurted Cora, bringing herself to her feet to place another block on the tower attached to what was supposed to be a submarine.

“You two make a good team,” Law replied fondly as he turned his attention to his oldest daughter.  “Rose, what are you reading?”

Her new book was substantially thicker than the one she brought with her.  There were no pictures on the cover.  She tilted the object down only slightly to speak with her father.  “Rebecca brought it for me when I asked.  It’s a book about common heart conditions in adults.”

Somehow, Law was not surprised.  He didn’t even question it, watching as the black-haired girl turned her attention back to her book, disregarding any potential response from her father.  Without another word, and without wanting to distract the kids from their intense focus, he scooted across the floor to the squatted table and opened his accordion folder, flipping through his paperwork to pass his two hour break, counting his blessings that he had such easy, albeit… strange, children.

He couldn’t stay focused long enough to begin filling out his patient charts, however.  Especially not when he was swarmed with thoughts about his family.  As he picked his gaze up and glanced across the room at his daughters immersed in their own little worlds, happy as clams in their special ways, he couldn’t fight the swelling in his heart.  His wife, after worlds of difficulty, had given him two of the greatest gifts of his life.  Those gifts were now six years old, about to start first grade, reading above their level, building and drawing, holding conversations, and were filled with boundless love.  They hadn’t yet reached the age where they were embarrassed to hold hands with their dad in public, and they were still too young to fully understand the world around them, but it was clear as day to the surgeon that his little girls were bound to learn the tough realities of their lives sooner rather than later.  It made his chest pang thinking of how quickly they had grown up.  It felt like just yesterday that Law was by his wife’s side in the delivery room, finally holding his babies after they were allowed to leave the NICU, happy, healthy, and already beginning to babble and whine for their next feeding.  He remembered looking at his wife, the woman of his dreams, who had gone through far more than any human should in bringing these girls into the world, kissing her lips and thanking her, thanking whatever deity was in the heavens that she was still alive and well.

“Daddy?”

Rose’s voice broke Law from his trance, his sharp golden eyes darting up to meet hers.  The book was folded in her lap, her hands tracing the embossed letters on the hard cover.  

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice small and concerned.

A lump developed at the base of Law’s throat.  His girls looked so much like his wife.  He forced the rock down his esophagus and smiled at his little girl.

“I’m just fine, sweetpea.”

—

Law had needed to stay for an extra hour and a half after his shift was supposed to end, much to his distaste.  After his close-call to an emotional outburst that afternoon, he wanted nothing more than to run home, embrace his wife in a hug, and cuddle with her on the couch with the ice cream that he had promised her.  When he was finally able to slip into his car, the backseats empty (save for the Stealth Black action figure that was completely forgotten about by noon) with Cora and Rose having been picked up by their mom, he pulled out his phone to send his wife a text only to find that she had sent him one first.

Mama Look how tuckered out they are!!!

Mama [1 Image Attachment]

Mama What did you do to them???  LOL

The image was immediately saved to Law’s camera app.  Cora and Rose were curled up on the plush carpet in their living room on both sides of Bepo who was sprawled out on his back.  Their little arms wrapped around the dog’s torso, their faces squished into his warm, white fur as they snoozed in one conjoined unit.  He quickly tapped out a text that he was coming home, placing his phone in his bag and proceeding out of the parking garage as quickly as he could.  With the only places still open at that hour being the gas station, he stopped at the nicest one in town and picked up three pints of ice cream, as well as a few extra treats to surprise the girls with when their new friend, Tama, came over for a playdate in a few days.

When Law finally entered his house, the only light still on was the lamp beside the couch.  All the curtains were drawn, shrouding the living room in a pleasant, dim warmth.  His wife was on the couch, laying back with her phone in her hand.  She quickly stood up when Law entered, excitedly yet quietly closing the gap between them and capturing her husband’s lips in a tender kiss.  He cheekily took the freezing bag containing the ice cream and pressed it against the thin cotton t-shirt she wore to bed, cooling her skin and making her suppress a surprised yelp.  She giggled as she playfully batted Law’s chest.

“You tease!” she whispered.  “I don’t wanna wake the girls.”

“With the way they were sleeping in that picture, I doubt we’ll wake them up,” he replied, his voice low as his lips stole another kiss, lingering a few moments longer.  His heart fluttered at the feeling of his wife smiling into his gesture, her hands trailing over his chest, shoulders, and up into his fluffy black hair.

When she pulled away, he finally noticed the blouse she still wore, all the buttons done up.  “Good, because you still have to take this off of me.  I’m uncomfortable.”  She snatched the bag out of his hands, procuring her own pint of ice cream.  “After this, obviously.”

“Of course, of course.”  Law followed her lead, grabbing his own treat after placing his other goods into the freezer and following his wife to the couch with two spoons in hand.  Bepo was on his dog bed snoring up a storm, which he had been doing much more often in his older age.

“How did your interview go?” he finally asked, smiling as his wife snuggled into his size, using a blanket to grip her ice cream without freezing her hand.

“I think it went well, I was so nervous, though.  I had to apply an extra layer of deodorant in the car because I was sweating so much,” she explained.  “But the manager seemed pleased with my resume.  And she knew Ms. Boa, so hopefully that means my recommendations will be worth it.”

Law held her close while opening his own ice cream.  “I’m sure it will be.  You’re a shoe in for that position.”

“You’re just saying that,” she mumbled, taking a spoonful of the frozen treat.

“You like when I say things,” Law replied with a smirk on his lips.

She sunk further into his chest, letting his warmth embrace her.  Her mind swirled with images of the man, when they started dating, when he proposed, on their wedding night, in the hospital multiple times, holding his daughters… the woman blinked away fond tears and swallowed her emotions with another hefty spoonful of ice cream.

“What are you thinking about, gorgeous?” asked the man behind her, his voice gruff and tired from a long day in the hospital.

“Nothing…” she mumbled back, hiding her face in his neck.  “Just how lucky I am to have you.”

[ms-demeanor]

Good grief, your MIL sounds like an exhausting human being to exist in the presence of (I can guess the answer, but has she ever been diagonosed? She sounds well beyond common-or-garden irrational foibles). Big respect to Large Bastard for surving that and making it to adulthood as an actual functional person. What on earth did she do to make Tiny Bastard so thoroughly terrified of any beeping sound?

She has not been diagnosed with anything professionally: very funny fun fact, she has a Bachelor's in Psychology and she thinks that therapy is a scam and that there's no psychiatric medication that actually works. I have tried to talk to her about going to see someone but when I shared how therapy had helped me deal with my history of trauma she went behind my back to try to talk large bastard into divorcing me because of my history of trauma, so that's when I decided I was done sharing anything about my life with her or putting effort into helping her.

I am continually floored by the fact that Large Bastard was raised by such staggeringly shitty people and ended up being as nice a guy as he is. Don't get me wrong, he's still an asshole, but he is not an asshole like that.

Tiny bastard is scared of beeping, metal stepladders, and used to be scared of soda cans.

The soda cans were because MiL would continually drop empty cans on the tile floors of the house and startle herself with the noise. Stepladders because if MiL got out the stepladder it meant she was going to do some kind of chore or another that would end with yelling. Beeping because MiL walked around with a timer around her neck and would jump and scream when it went off; she would jump and scream MUCH worse at more unexpected noises like the smoke alarm going off, and since she was a terrible cook in a house with not-great ventilation the smoke alarm went off a lot.

When she gets startled not only does she yell and shout, she also starts screaming at whatever has startled her. The way this typically goes is:

Object: Beep!

MiL: Augh!

MiL: Fucking bitch! Fuck!

MiL: Why did you have to do that you fucking bitch? Piece of shit. FUCK!

The yelling was also frequently accompanied by stomping feet and slamming doors, because this woman is a 75-year-old toddler.

If she is yelling because she scared herself (by dropping something that made a loud noise) the yelling will go on longer and will be more intense and self-loathing. That's why tiny bastard is MUCH more scared of stepladders than stopwatches (so we have two stepladders - my little plastic stepladder that lives on the wall of the kitchen and does not scare the dog, and the big folding metal stepladder that has been dubbed "The Puzzles Frightener.")

[lovelygirlwithablog]

୨ ⎯ headcanons . nicolas alexander chavez x f!reader

━ slow and teasing

He's the KING of teasing you with kisses. He'd start off slow, his lips barely brushing yours, just to make you lose it. You'd lean in for more, but he'd pull back slightly with that cocky little smirk, whispering, "Patience, baby. I'll give you what you want... eventually."

━ messing with u

When he's in the mood to mess with you, he'd kiss you once, softly, then trail his lips down your jawline and stop just short of where you really want him to go. And when you let out that frustrated sigh, he'd chuckle and be like, "Oh, I love how needy you get for me." 😵‍💫

━ spicy and possessive pet names

"Mine" - Oh, girl. This one would come out when he's feeling possessive. Like, if someone else flirts with you, he'd pull you close and whisper in your ear, "Don't forget, baby-you're mine." Chills.

"Darling" - He'd say this in that slow, deep tone when he's in full heartthrob mode. Like, "What do you need, darling? Tell me, and it's yours." Literal heart palpitations.

━ flirty pet names

"Baby" - Classic but effective. He'd say it in that low, teasing tone, especially when he's being playful or spicy. Like, "C'mon, baby, you know you want me to kiss you." Instant chills.

"Love" - When he's feeling all intense and romantic, this is his go-to. He'd probably whisper it against your lips mid-kiss, like, "You drive me crazy, love." Ugh, please.

"Beautiful" - He'd drop this one out of nowhere just to watch you blush. Like, you'd be getting ready or just sitting there, and he'd be like, "How did I get so lucky with someone so beautiful?" Byeee, my heart.

"Angel" - He'd use this one when he's feeling protective or extra soft. Like, if you're upset, he'd wrap you in his arms and whisper, "Don't worry, angel, I've got you." Melting!!

━ flirty energy on set

Nicholas would absolutely love teasing you if you visited him while he was working. He'd be all professional one minute, delivering his lines perfectly, and the next, he'd be flashing you that sly smile in between takes, knowing it's driving you crazy.

━ you're his safe haven

After a long day of filming, the first thing he'd do is find you. He'd wrap his arms around you in the coziest hug, burying his face in your neck while mumbling, "You're the best part of my day." He'd totally sneak little forehead kisses when he thought no one was looking, just to recharge and feel close to you.

━ validation

After a big scene, he’d run over and ask, “How did I do?" And when you tell him how amazing he was, he’d get all blushy and say, “That’s all I needed to hear.”

━ spicyyy

If the two of you were alone in his trailer? Whew. Nicholas would lean against the door with that cocky smirk, pulling you closer by your waist like, "We've got a few minutes before they need me... want to make it worth it?"

━ he'd hate seeing you upset

The second he realizes you're mad, he'd get all serious and be like, "Wait, are you actually mad at me? Baby, talk to me." And you'd be trying to ignore him, but he'd literally NOT stop following you around until you told him what's wrong. He'd have this sad puppy-dog face the whole time, which makes it SO hard to stay mad. Like, Nicholas, let me be angry for a second!!!

━ he'd blame himself

Nicholas would probably start feeling like he's the one ruining things. He'd get all quiet for a second and then look at you with teary eyes, saying, "Is this my fault? Am I not enough for you?" Hearing him say that would absolutely wreck you because you'd know he's always trying SO hard to make you happy.

━ cuddles

If you were busy or taking too long to cuddle him, he’d literally flop down on the couch like a toddler and be like, “Why don’t you love me anymore?” in the most over-the-top voice ever.

━ attention

If you even looked at your phone or got distracted, he’d nudge you with his nose and say, “Hello? What’s more important than me right now?” He’d fake being all hurt and be like, “Guess I’m just not your favorite person anymore.” But the second you kissed him or ran your fingers through his hair, he’d get all soft and mumble, “That’s better. You’re my favorite person, too.”

━ back hugs

Imagine you're busy doing something, like washing dishes or typing on your laptop, and out of nowhere, Nicholas wraps his arms around you from behind. He'd rest his chin on your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss on your neck.

a/n: guys thank you so so so much for the notes on my last post! here are some new headcanons 'cuz this man is killing me 😫 let me know in the inbox if you want headcanons for other actors/characters!!

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 58 (Adopted by Another Stray!)

On a rainy autumn night, Mayor Whiskers started scratching feverishly at the front door. Heather got up to let him out, but a small, soaked black cat raced through the opening and into the bedroom at the end of the hall.

This black cat was nervous and aloof, and it took several attempts to lure her from under the bed with treats. But she liked Buttercups as much as any pet, and Heather slowly earned her trust.

"She's cute," acknowledged Conrad. "But we've already got two cats and Gord!"

Heather smiled at the untrained stray. "She needs a good home, and she seems comfortable here," she said. "I know our life is always busy and our upstairs hallway looks like a cheap greenhouse right now, but one more cat won't hurt!"

Conrad wasn't going to seriously argue against adding another pet to their household, and Heather took their new black cat to her clinic next door for a check up. One x-ray made clear why she suddenly wanted a warm roof - she was expecting kittens. There was no way Heather would turn her out again in her condition.

"What we name her?" Ash wondered as he watched the cats play together outside.

"What do you think we should name her?"

"Cupcake!" he shouted. "I love cupcakes!"

Heather smiled. "Just Cupcake?"

Ash shook his head, grinning. "No, mommy. Queen Cupcake! Like King Tut!"

With that, Queen Cupcake had her name, and their new pet started to make herself at home. To celebrate, she picked a fight with Mayor Whiskers(!), but it wasn't long before Whiskers and Cupcake were nuzzling, as enamored with each other as Heather and Conrad! Heather was relieved the cat was already pregnant, but she made a note to have her spayed as soon as the kittens were born.

She was far more aggressive than any of her other pets, but Heather hoped this was a side-effect of her maternal instinct, hoping it might fade once she'd safely delivered.

"Training bad habits out of you might not be easy, huh?"

Queen Cupcake's responsive meow sounded distinctively like a 'yeah,' but cat-loving Heather was ready for the challenge.

Before long, Queen Cupcake delivered two small black kittens, the spitting image of their mother, named Duchess and Lady. Their house was overflowing with pets!

Heather's son was almost as friendly with cats as his mother, and loved spending time with Queen Cupcake's tiny new kittens.

"These kitties small like me, mommy." Ash could pick up Duchess and Lady, who fit in the crook of his small arm, to pet their fuzzy black fur. "They soft."

They bought a self-cleaning litter box to try to handle the influx of felines, but all five cats still preferred to use the old one that needed manual cleaning, much to their dismay.

"What if we just got rid of it?" suggested Conrad. "Then they'd have to use the new one, right?"

"I know we should," said Heather. "I have a feeling the Watcher keeps meaning to do that, but you and I are both neat so we just keep cleaning it and she forgets."

"Are we talking about the Watcher Watcher making changes while we sleep, or are you saying the Watcher made you forget to throw out the old one?"

"Maybe both?" She laughed as their conversation bordered on ridiculous. No one got her sense of humour as much as he did. "What if the cats are just attached to the old one?"

Conrad considered this. "The old one does have a certain smell... Should we be worried about a Watcher who's so disorganized?"

Heather shrugged. "She helped the doctors save my son, so I won't begrudge her one smelly litter box."

"Fair point," agreed Conrad with a smile. "I'll go get the scoop."

Active full-time jobs, five cats, a dog, and a toddler kept Heather and Conrad busy, but they still carved out every moment they could together - which usually meant crashing on the couch to watch their favourite shows until they fell asleep.

They worked hard, but their life together was a perfect fit. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: Me, writing about how stressed and busy they are as a slightly meta dig at my own gameplay this gen, proceeding to add 3 cats. Honestly it's for Heather because more cats don't stress her out at all. She also always needs to have 2 cats per the challenge rules and Boomer is getting up there, so I'm game. I might not keep all five forever but Queen Cupcake is here to stay.

WCIF Sofa Pose? Cozy Couple by @toofcc. I really love it, and it's exactly what I was looking for! Thank you for sharing!

[writingquestionsanswered]

PSA // Questions Requiring My Ideas

Just a quick reminder that I'm not going to answer questions that require me to come up with ideas for your story. I know it can be so frustrating when you're in the thick of your story's plot and things aren't making sense... it would be amazing to have someone who can say, "do this, this, and this," but unless you want to pay a writing coach or a developmental editor, you're going to have to roll up your sleeves like the rest of us and do the hard work of figuring it out. And I knowwwwww how much that stinks sometimes. Believe me, I've been there a million times.

Here are some things that have helped me get through it:

1 - Take A Step Back - Sometimes, even a day or two away from your WIP will help you see it with fresh eyes and get ideas flowing again. For me, if I'm away from my WIP for a few days, it starts nagging at me when I'm doing monotonous things like cleaning or driving. That's when I have sudden epiphanies that fill in plot holes or solve my biggest story problems.

2 - Talk It Through with a Friend - Whether it's a writing friend, your bestie, a family member, the toddler you babysit once a week, your dog or cat, or your favorite plushie, sometimes just talking out loud about your story while someone else listens (or "listens") can help you work through story problems and come up with ideas that you're otherwise struggling with. And... to be honest, I have been known to do some really weird sh*t when I'm in this mode, like pretend I'm talking about my process with this WIP to a group of fans at a book signing, or pretending I'm being interviewed on a podcast or radio show... I don't know what it is about talking this stuff out, but it can make a big difference.

3 - Plot Your Story Out Using a Different Structure Template - I'm a big fan of using story structure templates as interpretive guides for plotting. While I don't recommend boxing yourself in, and feeling like you're stuck following a particular template exactly, I do think story structure templates can be a really helpful way to get an overview of your story's working parts. And sometimes, taking your story and plotting it out against a different structure template just for fun (not necessarily to rework it) can help jog things loose that are stuck. And since it's absolutely okay to combine templates or use little bits of ones that work wherever and however they work for your story, you may find that you just borrow whatever worked from that template and graft it onto your existing structure. Again, whatever works best for the story. My post Creating a Detailed Story Outline has some templates to check out.

More than anything else, just keep at it and try not to get frustrated. Plotting is an absolute bear, but it's hard, and it's supposed to be hard. Anyone who says they sit down and have a perfect, flawless plot fall out of their heads fully formed is not being completely honest. Good plots take a lot of work, and sometimes it's like those shape sorters we played with as babies... you can spend weeks or even months trying to put a square peg in a round hole and not understand why it's not fitting. Then, one day it just CLICKS, and you suddenly see the shapes for what they are, and know how to make everything fit together.

Keep at it! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[adhdnojutsu]

Your opinion? https://www.tumblr.com/dranosh-haran-of-paleoworld/766237407554273280/why-do-you-hate-itachi-so-much?source=share

Had to use a different browser because this pleasant person has me blocked lol anyway.

TL;DR: Itachi had no right to do the things he did, but he also had no choice. Even if adult onlookers could come up with choices, he was a child trapped in a mindset his authority figures hammered into him in his formative years, and then he was put under additional duress. Come the fuck on.

"This guy willingly betrayed his own people and family, selling them out to the government who wanted to destroy them all."

"Willingly" when talking about a 11-12-year-old brainwashed, groomed, traumatized child under duress is kinda wild. Yes, Naruto is all about normalizing child soldiers, but there's a line and that's Itachi having his horrible "milestones" at an age where others are still in school.

And it's not treason to report a conspiracy to commit, well, treason.

More after the break. Enjoy this screencap of a literal child and one of the many adults who chose to fail him.

Itachi was 11 when he joined the ANBU, 12 when he killed the clan. His incompetent piece of shit father dragged him into a "kill or be killed" situation at 4, and he already had the muscle memory of slitting throats ON REFLEX?? What the everloving fuck did Fugaku do to his toddler? He was encouraged to leave school and enter the field for more death and horror at 8. All for the alleged greater good that was peddled to children and adults more aggressively than America's magical sky cloth. Fugaku and Danzo played a grooming tug-o-war with a literal prepub child and actively, deliberately, had him believe the weight of the world rested on his 3 inch shoulders. The fuck did anyone think was gonna happen when Itachi joined the ANBU everyone encouraged him to join, and did the work he was taught to admire - BY Fugaku, by the way. Fugaku wanted a peacemaker, then tried to start a war. Hm.

Also, Itachi didn't "sell out" his clan. If I know a family member is about to start something with predictably catastrophic ramifications, like, you know, a glorified terrorist invasion ("coup"), I have a moral obligation to report that. "Family" does not matter. Blood, water, starting a war is something you deserve to have sabotaged. And if you're willing to kill, you better be ready to be killed. Everyone who cheered for the coup willingly risked death and willingly doomed their families. "Bloodless revolution" my ass, that is delusional. As if Konoha is just gonna accept Fugaku after a COUP!? Fucking TREASON!? Oppressed or not, you sow violence, you reap violence, and public perception matters. The public's perception of the Uchiha coup would probably be *checks notes* treason :)

"His own people"? They all treated him like a trophy and an attack dog when they didn't outright abuse him for speaking his mind, when he was clearly old enough to let them exploit him. All they had for him was demands to make them proud and bring them glory, at the cost of his well-being. Chapter by chapter in Itachi Shinden, you can watch him wither and crumble. When Itachi's comrade was killed when he was 8, Fugaku literally said "He'll get over it" while his boy was falling apart in the next room. Those are not "his own people", they're one big, bubbling cunt stew with very few exceptions, judging by the novel.

Whether the government wanted to destroy the Uchiha clan or whether it was racist or oppressive ultimately doesn't matter when the active threat to world peace and countless lives is coming from the other side. Two things can be true at the same time, so yeah Konoha sucked, but also yeah, the Uchiha posed a threat. The clan's lives weren't in danger when they decided to endanger everyone over discrimination that isn't even as egregious as what fat people on airplanes have to deal with. Defunding the police (LMAO), not letting a latent traitor run for president, surveillance, and a dedicated, OPEN compound none of the other clans who got one bitched about. Wow, what a compelling reason to set the world on fire!

Yes, Konoha failed the clan, yes, Konoha is scum for that. But two wrongs don't make a right. I'm tired of this whole nonsense of "they're oppressed so they're allowed to act like total barbarians and be the next oppressor". I'm tired on a personal level which you can probably guess.

This is not a responsible adult:

"He knew about Obito and that he was behind the 9-Tails attack but said nothing to anyone. He discriminated against his own people and slaughtered them all to the last child."

He should definitely have reported Obito. But calling his actions against the clan discrimination is like saying the German police discriminates against that Berlin-based crime family because it happens to be a BIPOC minority. THEY ALSO HAPPEN TO BE THE FUCKING MOB. Of course, most Uchihas probably weren't active combatants and didn't deserve to die, but as horrible as it is, strategically, Danzo had a point when he said there could be no potential avengers.

Plus, outsiders like to focus on numbers as if more dead people means more suffering, but this isn't true. Just because 99 people suffer and die with me, doesn't mean each of us suffers and dies 100-fold. Sasuke was based when he said Itachi should have killed him, too. Outsiders don't want to accept this because it IS horrible, but sparing a young child after killing his whole family, is not kind. What would've awaited any children Itachi spared? The village that ordered their parents' slaughter? A world that clearly doesn't want them and will come after them at the first chance? Yeah sounds ever so fucking merciful. Just because unaffected gawkers think preserving a unique cultural or genetic group is the most important thing, doesn't mean the people actually affected have such priorities when literally staring death or a life of pain in the face.

"He cast Tsukuyomi on his own parents and brutally murdered them, tortured his own little brother beyond imagine with one torture session putting Sasuke in a fucking coma, one he would've never gotten out of if it wasn't for that bitch Tsunade and that's the only good Tsunade did in the series."

When did he cast Tsukuyomi on his parents? And "brutally", well, they surrendered and he cut them down rather quickly. All murders are brutal. Should he have raided the local vet and injected them with anaesthetics first? He was a 12-year-old child, crying, shaking, probably exhausted and barely coherent after having killed all the others, and looking at his final victims, his parents, comforting him. Striking them down quickly was the best for everyone involved at that point, anything more elaborate, "more gentle", would have prolonged this horror. Also what did Tsunade do wrong, and if Itachi hadn't knocked Sasuke out for a while, he would have gotten himself killed. The Tsukuyomi was overkill, 100%.

"Itachi thought he was wiser and more noble than his own people, which was pure and utter arrogance. When brought back as an edo, he said that a 7-year-old Sasuke could've changed the clan. He called himself Itachi Uchiha of Konoha and that he specifically had no regrets he was a massive piece of shit in life and death."

This is called interpretation. Yes, he was an arrogant child, he admitted this, Shisui told him, adults told him. But being an ass at the dawn of puberty doesn't invalidate the fact that he WAS smarter than most and the Uchiha uprising WAS a problem, and the clan was infinitely more arrogant than him for thinking they could just take power and that's the end of it. They were delusional. Being 11 when pointing this out doesn't mean he's wrong.

Vilifying him for calling himself "Itachi Uchiha of Konoha" is silly. Many nations will do horrible things behind the scenes to keep the peace, and just because Sasuke and Itachi were the tragic and ever so pretty victims of this, doesn't make Konoha worse than others. It is a place people actually live in. A place people call home and have a right to call home and feel safe and thrive in. Itachi did what he was forced to do by both sides, to protect people's home and peace, not to get headpats from Danzo and Hiruzen.

He also never said he didn't regret the massacre. The fact that he said he wished he would have confided in Sasuke, the fact of him telling Naruto, Sasuke, and Kabuto that he was wrong to try and solve everything on his own, all suggest he wishes it had been different. His words when he dissolves are "Mou miren ha nai", which can be interpreted as regretting nothing, but this is usually meant in a sense of unfinished business. Itachi could not un-kill the clan. Danzo was dead. What more could he do that he could still have "miren" about? Personally, I think he shouldn't have undone the whole Edo Tensei because he kinda owed Sasuke to stick around and fight the other Edo Tenseis manually, but that's not the point.

Actual footage of Itachi alone with his thoughts, probably:

"None of his plans make any kind of fucking sense. He wanted to save Konoha from war even though the other villages wouldn't have attacked for their own reasons."

Kindly look at Syria, Sudan, or Yemen, because the civil war the Uchiha were sure to start, would have been bad enough, you absolute pinecone. But I agree, Itachi's plans were mostly shit, but who taught him any kind of life skills or coping mechanisms? He wasn't parented, he wasn't guided, he was a trained attack dog. He never grew up mentally because when you're not allowed to feel like a child, know what being a child is, how are you gonna know when you're supposed to be all grown up and smart? He treated his suicide by Sasuke like a playdate. He toyed with him. He was a typical old soul, trauma and paralysis masquerading as maturity and composure. It's very apparent in the novels how helpless and small he felt. When the FUCK did he get a chance to unlearn his helplessness on one hand, and the world resting on his shoulders on the other? Itachi was deranged, but not by his own doing. A 4 to 12-year-old child is not responsible for their poor life "choices".

"So Itachi saved Konoha from zero potential wars, especially when none of the other villages attacked after Obito's, Orochimaru's, and Pain's assaults in the series."

I wasn't aware Itachi's Sharingan could accurately predict the future. He stopped the civil war that was certain to happen and that he could stop. Not a single ninja has ever been expected to fix the whole world and the few who expected it of themselves were even more deranged than Itachi. Why hold a 12-year-old to a higher standard just because he's foolish enough to do so himself? Right until Shisui died, Itachi clung to his naive dream of becoming the greatest ninja to stop all wars. And then, both Fugaku and Danzo demanded he be that, when Shisui's death just had him realize how helpless he is. And then, there was a war looming on the horizon that he COULD prevent.

"He practically sent Sasuke gift wrapped to Orochimaru or Danzo. He knew about Obito and Pain's plans and yet did nothing about them, which just screwed over Konoha immensely."

Yeah he fucked up with Orochimaru, and this was one of the things he could have predicted after Orochimaru tried it with him. Not killing Orochimaru when he had both cause and opportunity, was bafflingly stupid and I'll chalk it up to plot armour since Itachi will kill his own mother to protect Sasuke.

He was also a useless spy in Akatsuki, yes. He aided and abetted in several Kage and Jinchuuriki assassinations, all to keep a cover of questionable use.

We do have to grant him that he needed to stay alive to give Sasuke deserved closure. He didn't even know Obito wasn't Madara, so I don't expect him to have known much about Pain's abilities. Given he allegedly ties with Jiraiya and we all know what Pain did to him, Sasuke would not have gotten his revenge. As for Danzo, can we not underestimate him please? He had to be worn down into self-destruction by Sasuke, and when Itachi attacked him in the novel after getting the MS, he was immediately stopped.

"He was never a prodigy or anything, unlike Sasuke. His fights are just him using genjutsu on his opponents and overpowering them with it, which just childish and stupid. He pulled Susanoo, Mirror Yata, and the Tsoka Blade out of his ass."

I agree Susano'o and its rigs were asspull done to compete with DBZ ratings, but how was he not a prodigy when he was recommended for graduation at 8? Poor writing or not, the canon fact is that Itachi was way ahead of his peers and many adults. We can't blame a character's personality in one moment, then bad writing the next. All writing boils down to creating the character's reality and all facts written by the author are equally valid.

Calling genjutsu childish and stupid is silly as you can apply this to all jutsu. Naruto's army of clones is arguably more ridiculous than mastering an otherwise underdiscussed technique at a level that has people like Kakashi scared. Personally, I think the big noisy techniques like Kisame's water jutsus and Hashirama's Slaparama are a lot more childish and geared towards hollering little boys. Itachi's fighting style is elegant and super duper gay.

"This fucker is all over the place and doesn't make sense. Dushman-e-jaan has posts that go into greater detail about how this guy doesn't make sense, and I recommend you read them as she does an infinitely better job at explaining my dislike for Itachi than I have."

Dushman explicitly supports this:

But thinks Konoha is worse for allegedly being this:

In other words, Doucheman is fine with making 0 sense whatsoever as long as they can virtue-signal for fascists if they know how to sell the underdog act.

[whoisneo404]

can you do dad!nick x male reader? i don't care what is it, anything will do!

Stay at home dad! Nick.

Summary: stay at home shenanigans of Nick.

Once your baby entered your lives, they made a 360 degree turn. Nick had to plan ahead for meetings and videos, which wasn’t that easy but was way easier than having a job where you aren’t your boss. So, the both of you decided that Nick would stay at home taking care of your baby while you work the 9 to 5 from Monday to Friday.

Nick is a good dad, a dad that did all the research on internet about how to take care of a baby before they arrived. A dad that made long facetimes with his mom with a notebook and pen besides him to annotate every single tip and trick she gave him. A dad that will call his brothers for help because he can’t find the control remote of the tv, give the baby a bath and cook dinner at the same time. A dad that watches the baby sleep on the couch worried that he might turn on his sleep. A dad that tries not to cry when looking at his baby for too long.

He is a good dad, and he is a great husband too. When you arrive home dinner is always on its way (most of the time is delivery, but at least it’s your favorite). He will greet you with a kiss on the lips, helping you take out your coat and putting it on the rag.

‘’How are you, honey?’’

‘’Exhausted!’’

‘’Really? Tell me about your day.’’

‘’You won’t believe it. Our little angel decided to wake up right after you left and…’’

Nick is the type of dad that holds back his tears when he sees you and your baby sleeping on the couch, one hand on the babies back while they lay on your chest, your shirt stained with her saliva. He instead takes a picture with his phone and sits besides you playing with your hair.

Nick is the type of dad who will go to talks for ‘new parents’ and be nervous to see the room full of mothers and their babies. Nick is the type of dad who talks to these moms proudly about his husband and his pretty girl.

Nick is the type of dad to buy lots of clothes for the baby. A lot of dresses, shirts, onesies, hats, socks. Every item of clothing the baby has it, she might have more clothes than bot of you. He loves the type of clothe with silly prints of them (like animals or dinosaurs, also loves the ones with Disney or Bluey characters).

He will try to deny it, but he loves the ‘best dad’ kind of gifts. It can be a shirt or a mug, this man will roll his eyes when he sees the gift and say its corny but he will use the item 24/7.

Nick loves to read stories to his baby, also loves to sing to her. Is very shy when he sees that you are leaning on the doorframe looking at them with a smile on your face.

Nick is the type of dad to be very protective of his baby, when she starts walking and being more curious, he will have at least 5 heart attacks per day. And don’t even get me started on going out to the park, Nick would be behind the baby at every moment making sure she doesn’t fall or trip.

Nick is the type of dad who has a folder filled with photos of his baby and husband on his phone, but also has an album of instant pictures on the living room.

‘’Yes?’’

‘’My handsome husband.’’

‘’What did you do?’’

‘’I can’t call you now that you assume I need something? How rude, more film, I need more film for the camera haha. I love you, I will cook your favorite tonight, thank you, bye.’’

Sigh

Nick is the type of that adopts a dog so the baby and the doggy can grow up together.

Nick loves the weekends because you don’t have to work, so the three of you snuggle on the couch while watching a movie. Or the three of you cook together, of clean the house together, or sleep together. Anything, the weekends are always time for the three of you, one baby on the hip and one loving husband on the other arm.

Also, Nick will beg you to have another kid when the baby is no longer baby and is a toddler. ‘’She needs a sibling; she will feel alone. Believe me, I don’t know what I will do without the stupid crazy bitches of my brothers.’’ And who can say no to his pout and pleading eyes? So, the adoption process of the next member of the family starts.

[mjart12699]

Decided to post a fic I wrote a while ago on here since I have been too busy lately to write anything else anyway enjoy some Muriel’s not the Step Father He’s The Father Who Stepped up content

Woodcutters

I’ve always liked the woods. It’s always been calm, but not silent. There are little noises I can pay attention to and identify as I walk the path, feeling the dirt beneath my shoes.

It’s different now though. The woods are filled with the noise of people, scared people who came here out of fear of the city and settled right in the yard of my zio’s oldest friend.

The friend who is now my ma’s boyfriend, it seems.

Muriel seems nice, and from what Asra has told me he’s a good person. I feel calm around him, and so do the chickens and other animals that live here, so I suppose I can trust him. What’s weird is seeing how my ma is around him.

My ma was not very trustworthy of other people before she got sick, and she still had a lot of social anxiety after she woke up again. She’s been working on it. According to Asra and Finn, I’ve been a big help since we’re really similar. She got a lot better after we found Wojtek, a puppy that grew into a bear-like dog a few months after she was okay again. To see her so relaxed around someone, let alone Muriel, is a bit weird.

“Hey, Sawyer.” Finn’s deep voice pulls me back from my thoughts, and the scratch of my pen on the paper I grabbed comes to a halt. “Did you hear what I said?” He sits down next to me, and I feel his eyes on the paper more than see them. I shake my head in response, tracing imaginary lines in my mind across his dark hands as he fiddles with a foraging bag. “The adults are having another meeting, so your mama is going to be busy again for a little bit. I figured we could go look for some more of those honeysuckle flowers that you like, maybe practice some illusions?” I think on it for a moment before nodding, packing up my art supplies in my bag and standing up.

“I have to put my stuff away.” I sign to Finn before running off to my tent. It’s near ma’s and Muriels, towards the back of the hut and away from the people. Ma made a few jokes about how the three of us have that in common, the need to be away from the noise.

I open the flaps of the tent as I undo the locking spell, walking on my knees to avoid letting my dirty shoes touch the floor of the tent. I know it will get dirty anyway, but I don’t like the feeling of dirt touching my skin when I sleep. I tuck my art supplies under my pillow, shaking out my bag to make sure I didn’t miss anything and then repacking what I will need to take with me. My stuffed mammoth, my mini sketchbook, a piece of charcoal, gloves, extra socks in case the ones I’m wearing get wet, a sweater, and some candy so I don’t chew the inside of my cheek. Once that’s packed, I wiggle back out of the tent, closing the flaps and redoing the protection spell. I nearly fall back when I stand up and turn around to see Muriel, kneeling down to pet Wojtek right outside my tent.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He doesn’t stand up, which I’m okay with. The man is ridiculously tall, my earliest memory of him being when Asra took me out here, I think I was a toddler. He had been wearing his chains, and his hair had been a lot longer. I also remember he didn’t seem as soft as he does now, a feeling I can’t really explain. “Your mom and I have to meet with everyone again, to talk about what’s going to happen. We- I mean, she wanted you to know where she was in case you’d need anything.”

I nod in response, feeling my hair brush against my neck and slapping it away when it itches. Muriel’s face changes when I do that, the same way that other adults do when I do anything considered weird. “It’s itchy.” Is all I sign before I walk away, finding Finn and his cat, Annette, on the outskirts of the settlement and taking one of the more wild paths with him.

I practice my magic a bit as we walk, summoning small gusts of wind in my hands and holding up leaves or flowers in midair with it as we walk, and sometimes coming up with small illusions. Finn’s job when we are not hiding from a bloodthirsty monster and his band of mercenaries is to dig up old bones and study them, paleontology. I went on a lot of his digs with him the year that we left Vesuvia while mama was sick. He had always kept me in the shade, putting big hats on my head and making sure I was wearing enough sun cream to “keep the people who make it from ever going out of business”. He talks about the bones he’s found as we walk, telling me what he thinks they might have looked like and asking me to summon the description in my hands, then summoning his own to compare. It’s a fun game we play, something that keeps my mind from wandering to the bad stuff.

By the time we find the grove where the honeysuckle is, the sun has started to head more into the evening, and a chill blows through. I pull my sweater out of my bag, the soft purple yarn smelling a little bit old and in need of a wash, but comforting.

“I admit that I brought you out here with another ulterior motive.” Finn’s large hands pluck several of the white and yellow flowers at a time before he deposits them in his bag. “You’ve been looking a little sad, and it’s easy to see why.” I turn away as he talks, knowing that he knows I am still listening. “It was nice and calm for a while, then the Countess hired your mama for a weird job. A week later she has to go down south with a scary lady and the best friend of your uncle, who looks and seems like the exact opposite.” Annette climbs some of the branches, her soft fur shining a warm brown in the dappled sun, her golden eyes watching me knowingly. “ Then she comes back after months of being away, right before the biggest party of the year, dating said guy.” He’s right about that, it was weird to see them together. Asra seemed really happy about it, and tried to tell me stories of him and Muriel when they were growing up while he and my ma were down south, but it still felt strange. “Next thing you know we are all running away from the city and into the woods and we have to set up camp around a bunch of other people, some of which have obviously not learned about camping etiquette.” This makes me laugh a little, because it’s true. Not a day goes by out here where someone doesn’t start an argument with another person about something stupid. I feel Finn’s hand on my shoulder, and look up to see that he also finds it funny. He kneels down to my level picking some of the flowers on the forest floor as he does, all ones we can use for medicine or food. “The point is, you’ve been holding in a lot, and it’s okay to miss your ma. I know you think that because you’re one of The Big Kids out here that you have to act brave and happy all the time, but you need to remember that you are nine years old. It’s okay to have all of the bad feelings.” I don’t like that he’s able to read right through me, but that’s what happens when you spend most of your life around someone.

My throat feels sore and wet, and the area behind my eyes hurts. I know it’s a sign that I’m going to cry, but I still don’t like it. Finn pulls me down, leaning against the small tree the honeysuckle had been growing around and letting me sit against his side. I rock back and forth against the tree, not able to do anything else to calm myself down. Finn fishes my stuffed mammoth out in response, tucking it into my arms and rubbing his hand up and down my back as I hide my face in my knees. Annette comes down from the tree, purring as she wiggles her way into my lap and kneading her paws in order to get me to release my legs from my grip, preventing marks that I would normally scratch into my skin. It feels like forever has passed before I stop crying, and it still feels stupid to cry over something like this when I’m done.

My legs feel heavy when we decide to go back, so Finn hoists me up so that he’s giving me a piggy-back ride. If I weren’t so tired from today I would protest, especially since I’ve been getting a bit too big for that, but Finn doesn’t seem to mind, and carries me easily all the way back to camp.

I’m nearly asleep when we do get back, but I’m awake enough to help Finn and Mazelinka, Zio Julian and Zia Portia’s kinda-grandma, with making dinner. Mazelinka tells stories as we make the soup, her time at sea and the antics Portia and Julian would get into when they were younger. Everyone who was at the meeting, the Satrinava’s, Asra, Muriel and Ma come and eat with us when the sun starts to set even more.

The soup is good, and it makes me feel nice and warm despite the temperature drop outside. Finn sits between Ma and I, chatting with her about what happened in the meeting as we eat. He’s always felt like a nice protective bubble for when I don’t want to talk, but I know from experience that Ma will ask me what’s wrong soon. She has a weird sixth sense for it. By the time I’m done with my dinner some of the adults have gotten out drinks, some dancing around controlled fires and others laughing loudly with each other.

I don’t like it.

Ma see’s that easily enough, and when Finn begins to dance with Asra and Julian she scoots closer to me.

“Time for bed?” I nod, leaning against her and breathing in the smoky scent that lingers on her clothes from the fires around us. Wojtek follows us when we stand up, yawning and stretching before sending a deep bark out into the woods, earning a howl in return. “We’re going to head off to bed, you gonna be okay?” I already know she’s talking to Muriel. I hear him hum in response before she takes hold of my hand and we walk back to the tents together.

It gets cold pretty quick once we leave the community fires, but even then I am slow to get into my tent and into my pajamas. Ma gets hers on from her own tent, tapping the outside of mine in silent question. I open the flaps to let her and Wojtek in, which makes the tent really cramped pretty quick.

“So, today was pretty long, huh.” Neither of us are good at small talk, or starting conversations, but it’s surprisingly nice that she’s trying to ease into what she wants to talk about. I nod, grabbing my quilt and wrapping it around my shoulders before leaning into her, nearly melting when she wraps her arms around me and pulls me down onto the pile of furs that make a bed for now. “I’m so sorry baby. I haven’t had a lot of time with you lately, and when I do there’s always other people around so it’s never just you.” I tell myself that I’m listening, even as she runs her tattooed fingers through my hair and the thump of her heart tries to sing me into sleep. “I can’t promise to spend tomorrow with you, but after all of this is over, we’ll do whatever you want. Day and dinner, does that sound nice?” I nod as I hum in response, and it doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep after she brushes my hair out of my face and Wojtek curls around me.

The snow is up to my knees out here, and my breath freezes as it leaves my mouth. There are structures that surround me, old and worn so much that it would be impossible to fix them up again.

Suddenly, the red sky no longer weeps little white flakes. Instead, they’re gray, and it smells awful. The ash nearly chokes me as I try to run through the snow, but I’m not paying attention, so I fall through the ice and the cold water seeps through my bones as sharks swim in protective circles. I don’t have the time to scream. I try to kick my way back to the surface, I should know how to swim, but it feels like something is holding me back.

I don’t look down to see what it is.

I can’t.

But I can feel her bones, and hear her soft voice.

I’m on the shore again, but the scene is different. It’s an island this time, and there’s no snow. Only ash. I wonder if it’s the same ash from before as I push aside the dry branches to walk through it, the feeling of dread in my chest doing just as much damage as the ash in the air.

I come to a building, brick and mortar and on fire. Ash piles out from it and I can’t tell if those who were once inside are still screaming or if it’s just the flames and coals. Something touches my shoulders, the same thing from earlier, and when I turn to see what it is my screams die in my throat.

The specter doesn’t have any defining features, just embers within shadows. Empty eyes see right through mine, and their hand reaches for my shoulders again. The touch is gentle, and filled with so much sorrow that it’s overwhelming.

I nearly vault out from my blankets, any sound dying in my throat when I throw up next to my bed. Wojtek is gone, and the tent flaps are open. I barely process that Ma comes in when I throw up again. She rubs my back and holds my hair away from my face for a few more minutes to make sure there’s nothing left in my stomach. I think she asks if I want to go to bed with her. I think I nod. Muriel is standing outside the tent, not enough space for him to come inside. I think I hear her say something about cleaning up, and then I’m passed to him.

He smells nice.

We go into his and Ma’s tent, where he gets water and a rag and sits me down near the bed. There’s a small orb of light, just enough that we can see but not too much to hurt our eyes in the late hours. He helps me clean my face, rearranging the furs in the tent so they’re more spread out before sitting me down in the middle. He leaves the tent for a few minutes, I think, and when he comes back Ma is with him. She gets me to drink some water, running her hands through my hair and pulling me close. I think I hear her and Muriel talking to each other, asking out loud if I might be sick. I shake my head, but I’m too tired to explain. I just want to sleep.

Ma lays down first, pulling me with her so that I can use her arm as a pillow. Muriel is the one that pulls the blankets over all of us, his thick arm wrapping around both her and I. He doesn’t seem to mind that I’m here, and the little nagging voice that tells me I’m in the way nearly shuts up when he pulls us both closer.

I’m confused when I wake up, and feel like I’ve been boxed in by a million blankets. It takes a few seconds longer than I’d like to admit for me to remember what happened last night, and another few for me to process that the reason I’m so squished is because I am surrounded on all sides. Wojtek managed to lay on top of me in the night, further boxing me in between Ma and Muriel. It was nice last night when it was nearly freezing outside, but right now, under a thick quilt and the sun beginning to rise once again, it is not.

I resign to my fate, however, when I remember that Wojtek is nearly twice my size, and even if he wasn’t here on top of me I don’t want to wake Ma and Muriel. I take a deep breath and settle back in, tracing imaginary lines on Muriel’s face while he sleeps.

I like studying peoples faces, it’s something I’ve always done as far as I’m aware. I’m not very good at telling how someone is feeling just by their face, and I have difficulty recognizing people whenever there is a slight difference in appearance, like when they change their hair, makeup or even the metal of their jewelry.

I’ve never really studied his face before. He wasn’t around enough to warrant interest, but now he’s around all the time. He doesn’t seem to like it when people stare, though, and after Finn explained why I just avoided looking at him in general. He has a scar on his cheek and brow. I mentally trace the scar on his cheek, and look at how there isn’t hair growing close to it like there is on the rest of his face. I wonder if the hair can no longer grow there.

I’ve gotten bored of tracing his face by the time Wojtek yawns and gets up, somehow managing to not not step on any of us as he leaves the tent for the morning. The change still wakes Muriel up, while Ma still holds on to a few more minutes of sleep. I had closed my eyes and pretended I was still asleep when Wojtek left, and I turned over when Muriel got up to get ready for the day. He’s still wearing most of the Masquerade outfit that the Countess gave him, although he took off the cape part, leaving only the shirt, pants and boots. Everyone else had managed to find their normal clothes after the fact, except for him.

He’s weird.

Ma finally wakes up after a few minutes, brushing my hair out of my face again before getting up. I wiggle back under the covers, knowing that it’s time to get up but not wanting to leave the cozy nest. I don’t know if they know that I can hear their hushed voices.

“Do you want me to stay while you talk to him?” Muriel’s deep voice is easy to identify on any day, even with the failing enchantment The Hermit gave him.

“If you want to, I won’t pressure you, but it has been a few weeks since we’ve been out here, gah, I don’t know how to talk about this…”

“It’s fine, I think I get what you’re trying to say… and you’re right, I shouldn’t just avoid being around him… I’m not sure how to explain why I have been either.”

“It’s okay, it’s understandable. You don’t have to explain right now, but I do think it’d be good for him if you were here while we talked.”

He hums in response, and I feel Ma’s footsteps come closer before she kneels down and gently shakes my shoulder.

Despite being awake before them, I still feel groggy. I turn over to see that she’s already pulled half of her hair back, although a lot of it still frames her rosy face. I sit up, still pulling my blanket around my shoulders and groaning when my stomach growls.

“Buon giorno piccolo, ti senti meglio?” She rests her hand on my forehead while she talks, pulling it away after a few seconds and scooting over a little closer when Muriel comes to sit down, a cup of water in his hand. “Do you still feel sick?” I think for a minute to see if my stomach still feels all twisted up, and nod when the thought of eating makes the nausea worse. Muriel hands the cup to me, his brows knitted together making the scar on his forehead move slightly. A little voice in the back of my mind wonders if it still hurts.

“Bad dreams?” I hadn’t expected him to speak, and everything feels slow before I am able to nod, doing my best to drink the water and get rid of the bad taste in my mouth.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Ma rubs her hand up and down my back, sending shivers through my brain and down my spine. “We’re pretty good at listening.”

My head throbs when I think about it too much, but I do my best to tell her anyway. “The sky was red, and I fell through the ice. There were sharks, and something was pulling me down.” Wojtek comes back into the tent, sitting down across Muriel’s lap and extending his paws into mine. “Then I was back on a beach, and I went through the woods to the building. It was on fire, and the thing that pulled me down just stared at me.”

By the time I’m finished with what I could recall from the dream I can hear Vesuvia waking up for the day as well, mixed conversation muffled from the tent. Ma pulls me closer, nearly into her lap and continues to rub my back, using her other hand to comb through my hair. Muriel looks at the floor, his hands busy petting Wojtek.

“Maybe drawing the thing in your dream will help a little, we used to do that all the time.” Ma’s idea normally works. Most of my memories of her from before she got sick are of us drawing together, her showing me how to mix paints to get the color I want and the way different brushes would have different strokes. We haven’t done it in a while. I nod against her shoulder, the movement making me skull throb, before standing up and going to my tent to get ready for the day.

We have breakfast just outside our tents, the first one in a while that’s at least a little quiet. Muriel had the idea in the first place, and Ma went to the campsite to tell Asra we’d be having breakfast alone.

I’m so used to someone trying to squeeze by me for something or bumping into me that it’s a little bit weird that we get to make breakfast and eat in silence.

I pull my hood up over my head, hiding the tangled mess my curls had become overnight and sitting down a few feet away from Muriel, close to the fire. I watch as he shakes the frying pan with the eggs, thinking of the paint colors I would need to get the right shade of yellow for the yolk.

“Do you want to try?” Muriel’s voice breaks my thought, and I look to see he’s holding a spatula out to me. I scoot closer, looking at him before grabbing it and trying to flip one of the eggs. The yolk ends up breaking, but when I try to give his spatula back to him he just scoots closer, putting his hand over mine to hold the spatula and flip one of the other eggs. That one doesn’t break. I still give the spatula back to him, preferring to watch and not fail at something so early in the morning. By the time ma is back from talking with Asra everything is cooked and served on three plates.

“Sorry that took longer than anticipated, Finn wanted to know if you were doing okay and then Nadia heard and yada yada yada…”

“It’s fine, Sawyer helped me with the eggs.” Muriel hands her the plate and gets the kettle off of the fire, pouring the hot water into three cups before settling back and getting his own plate.

“Did he now?” She has a weird look on her face, even as she stirs more cinnamon into her tea and crosses her legs to balance her plate, it’s like she’s hoping for something.

They chatter back and forth as we eat, mostly about the battle plans and safety measures taken in the forest. Everyone’s talked about those types of things so much that I’ve learned to tune it out, but it also means that I tend to tune out important stuff.

Like when ma asks me a question.

I look up from my plate, ma has her head tilted the way a cat does when they’re curious about something, as though it makes more sense at an angle. “Repeat?” I have to use both hands to sign most of the time, so I just set my plate to the side.

“We were talking about the things we could do today. I think we all need at least a little bit of a break before tomorrow.” She looks between both Muriel and I as she talks, taking a sip of her tea in between. “Got any ideas besides painting?” I stir the eggs and mushrooms on my plate as I think, tidying them into their own piles so they’re not touching.

Of all the things we can do out here, I’ve done most of them. I’m not saying that I would be bored with anything I’ve already done, I’m just worried that none of them would result in anything useful.

Muriel leans over to ma, whispering something in her ear that makes her nod, her smile changing to the one she wears when she’s about to beat Asra at cards, a rare occurrence. He turns to me, his plate almost cleared of the mushrooms. “Maybe you could help me with renewing the charms around the camp? The forest has had more traffic than it’s seen in centuries and the protective spells we’ve had up are nearly burnt out.”

Well, I have needed to work on my charms… I nod, resuming my breakfast with a set plan for the day.

“That’s great! I do have some stuff I need to work out with the Countess, so you two will be alone in that endeavor, but I’ll come back to paint sometime after lunch.” Wait, us two? “I’ll see you later.” She kisses Muriel and then kisses my forehead, standing up with her dishes seemingly without any thought.

I help Muriel clean up around the fire pit after we’ve finished eating, washing the dishes and putting them away. Wojtek helped with the dishes too, licking off any remaining food from mine and then following me around while I did my morning chores.

When everything’s all done and put away I go back to my tent to get my bag, making sure that nothing was misplaced before putting it on and stepping out.

I haven’t gotten to do much with charms quite yet when it comes to practicing magic. Asra focused a lot on water types and illusions at first, teaching both Finn and I the simple stuff. Ma always taught me about hedge magic, and after she woke up we all learned about various magics from Asra, but we haven’t really focused that much on charms for a while.

Wojtek bumps his snout into my hand, indicating that he wants me to rest it on my head while he leads me somewhere. It’s how we walk through the markets on a normal day, and at the moment he’s leading me towards Muriel. His head nearly reaches one of the lower branches, and the fur cloak he wears makes him look a lot bigger.

“Most of the charms were made by Asra, but some of them are mine.” I’m surprised I don’t have to walk very fast to keep up with him, his pace being slower than Julian’s, who practically leaps everywhere. “We actually started making them when we were a lot younger, when we first moved out here. Some of them had to be replaced over time, mostly from weathering, but others have held on for longer.” We stop walking when we reach one of the trees, huge and covered in moss. “Like this one.” Muriel gets something out of his pockets, long strips of cloth that he wraps around his hands and ties off at his wrists.

I have to wave to get his attention before signing. “What are those for?” He pauses wrapping his other hand before continuing with an answer.

“They’re to keep my hands safe, and these,” he pauses before pulling out two smaller strips, “are to keep your hands safe.” Wojtek sniffs the fabrics before sitting down at the base of the tree, taking a deep breath like he’d just run a mile. Inanna seems content to sit with him.

“We’re climbing?” I might as well ask all of my questions before I can’t ask them.

“Mhm, can I see your hands?” Muriel kneels down in front of me, showing how to wrap the cloth the right way so that it actually stays.

It feels weird.

“I’ll help you up to the higher branches, but most of them are pretty close together, so you won’t have to worry.” He leads me to the base of the tree after standing up again, eyeing the branch for a moment before looking back at me. “I’m going to have to pick you up for this one, will you be alright with that?” Looking at the tree, I don’t think I’d get up there any other way, so I allow it. Muriel puts me on his back, the same way Finn does, and jumps to grab onto the branch. I have to squeeze my legs to avoid falling off, but he pulls us up to balance quickly.

I get back down, holding on to Muriel’s arm without thinking about it so I can balance myself. I’m not really used to climbing trees this big.

“I can show you the branches to grab before you climb, and then I’ll follow.” Muriel looks around at the branches above us, pointing to a thick one I can reach. “You might have to jump a little for that one, but you can push your legs against the tree. I’ll be right behind you.” He’s right, even at the base of the branch I have to jump a little, pushing my legs against the tree for leverage and clinging to it once I’m secure. It takes a lot longer for me to get upright than Muriel did, but he doesn’t seem to react, he just climbs up after me and shows me the next branch and the next one and so on.

It feels like forever has passed once we reach the top, where a small, worn out charm dangles from a branch on a piece of twine. Stones and seashells decorate the center with twigs woven around them to create a rune. The closer I am to it, the safer I feel, but it’s a different safety than Asra’s magic.

Asra’s protective spells feel like tempered glass around you, watching the ocean from inside and hearing the echo of the things that pass. Muriel’s feels like diving into a nest of blankets and furs in front of a fire when there’s a howling blizzard outside.

I sit on the branch as close to the tree as I can get, looking over the trees and across the horizon. I can pinpoint the camp from here due to the smoke that rises from some of the trees in the distance, and behind me I can see a few of the small mountains, which ma likes to call glorified hills.

Muriel shows me the process to recharge the charm, which seems to make it age backwards somehow. His hands take on a slight green and bronze glow as he focuses on the spell for the first half, but then he stops.

“Hold out your hands, and concentrate on the rune and what it means to you,” I do as he says, watching as my hands develop a dim bronze and orange light washes over them. It flickers even as I try to focus, giving way to the green and bronze light from Muriel’s hands. “For a first try you did well. It took me several to even make this work in the first place. Then there was getting them all put up.”

I have questions.

I wait until we’re done with the charm, watching as Muriel hangs it back up on the same branch, which makes it rewind in its age within a few seconds. Once he’s done with that he looks below us, eyes bouncing from branch to branch and plotting a route back down. Before he can move to get down I tap his arm, making sure I have his attention before signing.

“How old were you when you moved out here?” He makes a weird face, his eyebrows raising and eyes widening, an expression that Asra says means someone is shocked. He almost says something a few times, but then decides not to.

“How about we talk when we’re on the ground again.” He doesn’t seem to want to answer at the moment, maybe it’s because we’re so high up.

I follow him down, sometimes having to hold on to him while he gets us to the branches that are further apart, much safer than jumping down.

Wojtek and Inanna are still waiting for us at the bottom, and their tails start to wag once they can see us. Wojtek runs in a circle at the base of the tree until we get down, wiggling in place in front of me while I pet him. We get back on the path to the next charm after catching our breath.

“My childhood…” Muriel’s voice is quiet, a deep rumble in the distance. “Wasn’t very pleasant. I had Asra, and they had me, but that was it. I had thought for years that my parents had abandoned me because they couldn’t feed me, and I grew up avoiding being a burden at all costs.” The brush is thicker back here, and I have to raise my arms to get through. “The people of Vesuvia were hardly ever kind to the children of the docks, and Lucio’s rule made their wariness of us even worse, especially when he began to collect us for dirty work.” The next tree is shorter, and we go through the same routine as we go up. Muriel pauses to talk in between branches, explaining that his parents had not abandoned him, but he just didn’t know what had happened to them. He explains how he met Asra, and their eventual decision to go to the forest. “I had watched and helped some people build their houses at the outskirts of the city when I was a little older than you are, and once I thought I knew enough we went to the woods to build the hut. It took most of the spring and summer. I had to fix a few things as we got older, like the fireplace and the roof, but it was worth it to escape the city.” When we get down again I don’t even recognize that my legs feel sore, too many questions going through my head to even think about it.

I ask a few more questions as we walk, most of them just verification of Asra’s retelling of their childhoods together. Those seem to make him a bit less nervous, and I get to hear some of the stories that Asra never told, like the fact that when they first met my ma was because Faust had tried to climb in through her window at the shop.

“First time I actually met your mother was at the shop as well, and she was still pregnant with you.”

“Actually?”

“Yeah. Your ma and her aunt were celebrating the solstice, and Matty had invited Asra and I. I hadn’t gone to the coliseum yet so I wasn’t as nervous about going somewhere like that if it had been a few months ago.”

“Did you like her then?”

“Hm?” The next charm is on top of a big rock that we’re approaching, so Muriel gets that one by himself pretty fast. It’s quiet for a minute before he answers. “I don’t really know. At the time I knew that she was someone who’d befriended someone I cared about, and I was really just making sure they were safe there.” He hits the ground with a thud, dusting his hands off and sitting down against the rock. I sit down with him and watch Wojtek try to play with Inanna. “I remember that she was more focused on making sure we all ate than making an impression, and that she enjoyed playing the banjo your aunt gave her. She fell asleep before everyone else though. I carried her up the stairs.”

“And me.”

“Yeah, I suppose I did. Don’t tell her I said that though. She won’t let me live it down.” I think he might be joking since he laughs after he says that, but I still won’t tell ma. “Let me know when you’re ready to go to the next one, we’ll take a rest for now.”

Inanna watches as Wojtek races around her, sighing when he starts to slow down a bit and walking off into the forest when she’s done entertaining him.

The clouds in the sky begin to gather, and the air begins to smell like it’s going to rain. I stand up immediately, but Muriel just kinda relaxes into the rock.

“We need to go back.” I jump up and down in front of him, pulling my sweater out of my bag and over my head to avoid any droplets. He takes a minute to stand up, dusting off his hands and unwrapping the cloth from them.

I try to make a run for it, keeping my sweater over my head and ignoring how my bag thumps against my legs. Wojtek runs ahead of me, his ears flopping and his fur getting soaked within a few seconds once the rain turns from a sprinkle to a downpour.

I’m not a fan.

I love the rain… when I am inside. However, when I am outside, it becomes difficult to enjoy. The water is cold and makes me shiver, making my clothes feel weird and stick to my skin. My hair gets frizzy and tickles my ears and touches my neck in a way that I just can’t stand.

Heavy footsteps follow behind me, getting closer and closer until I feel heavy furs wrapped around me and my body lifted up over someone’s shoulder.

Muriel gets us back to the camp faster that way, and I don’t think he breaks a sweat the entire time despite all the climbing that we did.

The magicians in the camp work to make shields over the fires to keep them from going out and the people huddled around them dry. Almost everyone else has resigned to staying in their tents.

The tent ma and Muriel stay in is filled with light, and ma opens the flap before we can. “No entry until you’re dry, come here.” She laughs as she lifts her hands, filled with a warm light that sends away all the water from our clothes and prevents any more from getting on. “Leave your shoes too, they’re caked in mud.” I don’t even wiggle around much before I feel her take my shoes from me, and Muriel sets me inside the tent. I’m still wrapped up in the cloak so I lose my balance and fall to the ground, and judging by the laugh I hear from outside ma definitely saw.

Untangling myself from the cloak takes a minute, and once I’m out of that I can see that ma has Muriel sitting on the ground while she dries his hair with a fluffy towel. He reminds me of when we have to dry off Wojtek with towels, the rare smile on his face proof that he might be enjoying it.

I always feel like I’m intruding whenever I see them like this. It’s weird, I know. I don’t know how to explain. I’m not jealous, I know that. However, I’ve never really witnessed openly romantic relationships up close. Zia Matty tells me about herself and Husain, the archeologist she’s married to. I’ve seen people on dates or strolls throughout the city, but I’ve never seen anything besides that.

Thunder claps outside of the tent, and lightning follows soon after, making the darkness of the forest outside not as heavy.

“It seems we’re in for some worse weather than we thought, huh?” Ma pulls out her bag, embroidered with bees and violets on the cloth, setting it on the ground and pulling out paint brushes, paint and paper. “Good thing we had plans for stuff that we can do inside, but first!” She turns to me, pulling another towel from the makeshift clean laundry pile in a corner of the tent. “Devo farti i capelli, sembri un piccolo leone.”

I don’t have to scoot very far to be close enough that she can do my hair, but it is funny to watch Muriel’s face as he tries to piece together what she said with context clues.

Ma talks to the both of us as she does my hair, stuff about her morning and how the meetings went. I can tell she’s leaving a few details out since I’m here, but I’m not sure I would want to know anyway.

The feeling of the brush in my hair is a familiar one, bringing up both pleasant and bad memories. I hated having my hair brushed when I was little, and would run away from anyone who tried to do my hair in the first place. Asra said that it took a while for ma, Finn and them to find a hairbrush that I wouldn’t scream at, and we still use the same one years later. She rubs one of the oils we managed to get from the shop in her hands, rosemary and mint, another familiar scent that almost immediately makes me relax a bit more. She always puts it on my scalp, massaging it in and combing whatever’s left on her hands through the rest of my hair. Asra likes to joke that it’s why my hair grows so fast. The longest I’ve grown it was down to my waist, but that was before ma got sick, and when she woke up most of her hair had been cut off.

That was the only haircut that I ever asked for.

Muriel tells her about how our morning went, finding a few of his own things within the tidy piles of stuff we have in the tent. He uses a knife to carve into a block of wood, the chips curling when they fall to the floor. It’s nice to watch, and I nearly fall asleep before ma’s done braiding my hair away from my face and down my spine. It’s still a little damp when she’s done, and it will probably stay like that until tomorrow because of the weather and just how much hair there is.

Even with the storm raging outside, it’s nice and cozy inside of the tent. The spells were put on all the tents when we first got out here to prevent leaking and damage still intact thanks to daily check-ins.

We sit around the lantern, each person focused on their own tasks and almost completely silent. It’s not awkward, for once. If anything, it feels right.

The paintbrush in my hand glides on the paper, leaving streaks of color over white that will soon longer show through. My favorite things to paint are mammoths, an animal that I’ve always loved. A majority of my books back home are about them, and I’m pretty sure Zia Matty and Asra are to blame. Matty liked to show off her illusions before bed, something she did with my ma and her brother when they were little, and with me before she fled from the plague. Her favorite one’s to do were often about ice-age animals, talking about the theories about them and what we know so far. Asra likes to say that they encouraged my interest in them after they crocheted my stuffed mammoth for me. Finn helped me gather my collection of books about them due to his job, even making a cast of a mammoth's tooth as a gift for my birthday one year.

I hope none of it has been destroyed by the raiders.

While the rain continues to pour outside, it’s warm and dry inside of the tent. The fabric of the tent is a deep blue, a little taller than most of the other tents around the camp so that Muriel can stand up in it for the most part. Furs cover the floor, keeping it warm compared to the cool ground. More furs are piled on one side of the tent, the makeshift bed ma and Muriel have been using. A chest of clothes and useful things from home is next to the bed, flowers painted all over it adding color to the space without looking odd.

Most of the noise from inside the tent comes from the sounds of Muriel’s knife scraping against the wood block, or ma’s erratic sketching on her paper. I look over and see that ma is painting a field of rolling hills with tiny blue flowers. Mine is almost finished, since I painted what I had seen in my dreams last night. It’s not as good as ma’s painting, but she’s an artist for a living and an adult so she would be better anyway. I scoot closer to ma and show her the painting I did. She takes it from my hands carefully, blowing on the paper to help dry it while looking at it. Her brows furrow while she looks at the paper. We spend a few minutes like that, just looking at the painting. It makes my heart beat faster and my throat feel tight because I’m worried I did something wrong, but she pulls me close again and sets the paper down.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I shake my head, and scoot back to my spot to grab more paper and my paint brushes again. I can see out of the corner of my eye that Muriel moves his head so that he can see the painting, and moves closer to ma to whisper something in her ear before going back to his carving.

I’m painting mammoths again. The field they walk in is covered in frost and small patches of vegetation, just like Zio Finn said they would. I like to paint them with bright colors though, using purples and blues and greens with the normal brown paints instead of just shades of brown. Ma is still working on her flower painting, adding small details with a thin brush and a careful hand. She’s used to tattooing skin and taking her time with it, so her paintings normally have a lot of tiny details that most people don’t notice in them. Muriel’s carving is starting to take shape too, and I’m starting to notice that he’s looking at my stuffie a lot in order to carve the mammoth.

The rain refuses to clear up, pouring harder with each hour that passes. The thunder and lightning doesn’t slow down either, and I wonder if we’re at risk of flooding. Muriel makes me think that he can read minds sometimes because right after I thought of that he told us that he built the hut here because it hardly ever floods, and if it does he has charms and protective spells around his hut to prevent leaks. He and ma enforce the charms on the tent for the same reason, checking the storm protecting thingy on top and drying themselves off when they come back inside. Muriel has me help him make more protective charms to put up directly outside of the camp and when we’re done with that I get out one of the books I managed to take with me and read while ma and Muriel do… whatever it is they do.

It was stupid to think we’d have a peaceful day.

The raiders attack when the sky is at its darkest, sending shouts through the camp and startling all of us in the tent. Ma tells me to stay put while she and Muriel go and help everyone, putting on her boots and cloak and leaving me alone in the tent.

I fiddle with the necklace my dad gave me and hold my stuffie while I wait for them to get back, rocking back and forth on the blankets and looking around the tent to keep myself busy. It’s hard to do anything else when I’m worried about my ma getting hurt or worse, and it feels like time moves slower while they’re gone.

It takes a while for them to get back, and when they do Muriel has a cut on his leg. Ma cleans it up and heals it, but falls asleep right after so he helps her into the furs and removes her shoes and cloak. I’ve seen her fall asleep after using a lot of magic, but never just from a healing spell.

“She fought pretty hard… no wonder she’s exhausted.” Muriel stacks the furs on top of her, brushing her hair out of her face and taking off the green bandana she has over her hair. “Are you alright?” I nod, finger combing the fur of my stuffie and rocking back and forth. “I… there has been a lot going on lately and if you need to talk to someone… I don’t mind.” I set my stuffie down to sign, my head tilted to the side.

“I’m okay.” I don’t actually know if I’m okay or not, but I tell him I am anyway. He sits with my ma for a few more minutes, not really doing anything when he grabs his carving stuff again. I watch as the wood curls when he pushes the knife against it, the pile on the floor slowly growing.

“Do you want to try?” He’s already carved out a rough shape for it, and he’s started working on details. “I’m not sure if your mom would be okay with you handling knives, but I started learning when I was about your age, and I’ll be right next to you.” I think his logic makes sense, so I move to sit cross legged on the cushions next to him and watch him carve the wood. He explains a few things while he does, and then hands the wood and knife to me. He shows me how to hold my thumb against the knife to guide it and how to keep my fingers away from the knife's path.

Muriel has taken over carving the wood by dinner time again, but he’s given me one of his older pieces to paint. It’s a carving of a bear, but I paint it green and blue with tiny flowers all over it.

Ma sits up and rubs her eyes, looking at us and at the top of the tent. “What time is it?”

“It’s close to sundown, if I had to guess.” Muriel puts his things away, looking at my ma when he’s done.

“I’m going to guess you two waited to eat until I was awake again?” I nod, bouncing my leg and still painting. “Well we should get started on that then…”

“You should rest, MJ.” Muriel tries standing, but while his leg is healed it must still hurt because he hisses through his teeth when he stands.

“You should too, but alas we are both adults here who need to eat and I’ve gotta feed this one here too.” She says all of this with a smile, standing up and ruffling my hair. Both of them end up working together to make something, ma heading out to the camp to check up on Asra once we had everything started. Dinner is okay, but I miss being able to cook on the stove back home. Even the fireplace in Muriel’s hut would be better, but he’s lent it to the Satrinava’s and Mazelinka uses it to cook for a lot of people at once most of the time. I show ma the carving Muriel let me paint after we’re done cleaning up, and I start to head to bed. Wojtek still isn’t back, but he’d be soaked anyway, so I start to get ready to go to sleep.

When I start to open the flaps of the tent, Muriel stands up, the carving he’d been working on in his hands. “Put this next to your pillow… it should help.” He hands it to me, and when I look closer at it I realize he’d carved runes into the back and the belly of the mammoth. I can see ma watching from the bed where she’s rearranging the furs and pillows before bed. She’s not very discreet.

“Thank you.” I sign to Muriel before heading to bed, doing a small spell to keep the rain from touching me before I get inside my tent.

I think the carving works, because I don’t have scary dreams that night.

[groovinrightalong]

Alright, as promised, here are some ✨married Byler/Byler dads headcanons✨

A little preface that this is specifically for my transmasc Mike headcanons, so it’s not necessarily canon compliant, it’s pretty much just MY older byler AU so if it’s not your cup of tea you can just scroll along. Brief mentions of being a seahorse dad and a heads up right now that transphobia will get you an IMMEDIATE block:)

Now that that’s over with!

-Mike and Will get married at some point in the early 90s. Mike doesn’t get his birth certificate changed until some point in the 2000s, so legally he’s considered female, and you better believe they take advantage of it. He’s like at least three or four years on hormones by the time they get married but they’re just like :D yes we’re a straight couple I love my wife :D

-Bonus points if Will wears a dress for the wedding

-They get a dog pretty much as soon as they move in together. Will loves dogs (Mike’s more of a cat person but he adores the way Will’s face lights up when he sees them) and she’s probably a birthday present from Mike to Will. They like to joke that she’s their child, they bring her along to family picnics and events. Joyce and Jonathan are obsessed with her, she reminds them of Chester.

-Mike grows up to be an author! He makes a decent living between selling his books and a gig working at the local library, and Will does some graphic design. He doesn’t particularly like how regimented it is, he prefers doing art for the love of it, and he gets his chance when they’re early to mid 40s because Mike’s books start to get really popular and they can live off that income. Will then pretty much just does the art for the covers and works as a freelance artist. Gloats about being a trophy husband.

-They spend the first decade of their marriage just being the cool uncles for Jancy’s kid, always stopping in for surprise visits because they all moved to a bigger city within a decent distance from each other. Mike likes to buy the kid gifts he knows will piss off his sister, like water guns and play dough that’ll get stuck everywhere. He’ll sneak them candy, pick them up from daycare to take them out for the day. He’s a nuisance.

-Will aids in the schemes, but obviously he’s Jonathan’s baby brother so he’s the good one and Mike is the bad influence😇 And then the kid learns their first curse word from him when he accidentally slips up in front of them and he never hears the end of it.

-He’s really soft and happy with them though, and Mike obviously notices. Mike’s sort of iffy on if he wants any kids but he can tell Will does even if he won’t say anything.

-They adopt their son in like early 2002/2003. His bio mom was really young. They keep in contact with her, send her pictures and updates. His name’s Sam! (Short for Samwise. Because they’re fucking nerds.)

-They end up with two kids. Their daughter’s only six or seven months younger than Sam because hey y’all testosterone is NOT birth control. She pretty much looks like a mini Joyce, her name’s Gwen. (Gwenevere. Like I said, NERDS.)

-Their kids kind of have a similar dynamic to Will and El because they’re so close in age, they’re always in the same grades, etc. People jokingly call them the twins.

-Nancy takes her revenge by doing pretty much the same thing Mike did with her kid with the twins. She’ll sneak them treats, get them sugared up when they’re at her house then send them home. Sam thinks she’s the coolest person EVER (much to Mike’s horror)

-Gwen’s nonverbal. As a toddler, Sam talked for her pretty much all the time. She never said her first word, was really quiet and reserved, and it worried them obviously. But then they were like, oh wait, let’s try sign language (Mike has times where he’s pretty much totally nonverbal too so they already know a decent amount) and as soon as she figures it out she’s talking to them all the time. She’s super high energy and between her and her brother, they get into a LOT of trouble (Mike’s first gray hair comes in when he’s like 34😭)

-She also has a bit of a sixth sense! It’s mostly to do with the supernatural (which isn’t really an issue since the gates are all closed now… right?) but sometimes she’d react to something right before it happened and it would freak her parents out. Will has it too, but he’s so used to it now that he doesn’t really notice it? And Mike’s just like oh well that’s just how he is it’s not weird. It’s a… lot freakier when it’s a toddler.

-(Bonus!! Jonathan, Nancy, Mike, Will, and the kids all have the last name Hopper. Hop adopted Jonathan and Will and they changed their names to match him and their mom and El because FUCK Lonnie.)

I have lots more thoughts but this is going on really long and just🫠 Yeah. Byler dads.

[polish-art-tournament]

photography round 1 poll 4

[tap to view full images]

#13 (six people with a dog) from Natalia Wiernik's The protagonists series, 2013-ongoing:

submitted description: 6 adults head to toe in animal print. the backdrop is also in different animal prints. there is a dog and a stuffed tiger larger than the dog

propaganda: From the artists website: "In the same way as the boundaries of tolerance grow, the notion of family escapes the limitations of one simple definition. More and more frequently, relations are formed not on the basis of blood ties but based on similarities. These can stem from corresponding experience, shared values or emotional closeness. Paradoxically, similarities may even draw on oddity and peculiarity. It is then that the eccentricity of the individuals that meet becomes a keystone that allows for the formation of a certain community-family. The protagonists of my pictures are taken out of the context of place and time. They share visual kinship which is further emphasized by the scenery among which they are placed. We can only wonder what their relationships out of the frame are and whether the community they have formed in front of the eye of the camera really exists. It is entirely up to us to decide what conclusions we will draw and whether we will resist the temptation to classify and judge quickly."

#7 (man holding a child) from Natalia Wiernik's The protagonists series, 2013-ongoing:

submitted description: it shows a young black man holding a black toddler in his arms. the backdrop is in wax print patterns. their clothes have simelar patterns

propaganda: I love each work of the series, but this may be my fav photo. The artist statment for the work talks about audience perspective and how we assume relationships between subjects in photos.

the series (link)

[a-bit-too-silly]

Would you maybe do a drabble about regressed Logan being fussy about having to take a bath, maybe with CG Wade?

of course! I decided to have a bit of an inconsistent narrator cus Wade talks right to the reader sometimes. Hope this is alright! :]

🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

If there's one thing Logan *isn't* known for, it's his cleanliness. He takes care of himself most of the time. He's half good at that don't get this twisted, dear reader. But.. well, he's not particularly neat. We'll put it that way.

When he's big he's always getting covered in sweat, grime, blood, ash, he's really the type to roll around in mud like a dog if he thinks it'll make him feel better. 'Feral' is a good word to describe him, even when he's not gone into one of his berserker rages. But when he's little, it's.. yeah, it's the same story. Maybe a bit less blood and no ash since I wouldn't- ehh... *nobody* would let that little guy smoke anything. Not even his beloved cigars. Thankfully he's found some other ways to satiate that oral fixation of his, even if it does mean the occasional bite on the arm every now and then.

Regardless of what he decides to sink those little chompers into, he still manages to get himself coated in just about everything he comes across.

Mud? Oh-ho, definitely. No use in putting him in his raincoat and boots since he'd prefer to stomp around in every puddle barefoot anyway.

Food? You know it. You could be feeding him as neatly as possible only to turn your back for a moment and find some mashed avocado in his eyebrow.

Dust from the floor? Yep. Paint? Sure. Crayons? Somehow, yeah. Blue fur from Kurt? Mhm. Don't get me started on the jam incident. That sweet honey badger found his way into the cabinets.. the evidence of that massacre still stains those poor porous countertops.

I'll hand it to him, he's talented.

Unfortunately... bath time is his worst enemy. Maybe it has something to do with the experimentation, that'd make the most sense. Maybe it's his tendency to sink. Maybe he just prefers to be a stinky little gremlin. It's not exactly my place to ask. He's often too little or too tired to stay standing long enough for a shower, and sponge baths aren't really an option.

With background info out of the way, let's get back to the problem at hand.

-

"Cmon peanut, I made sure to put in the bubbles you like! They're yellow!" Wade says with a small gesture towards the tub. "Al! Tell him they're yellow!"

"You really think I'd be more convincing than you?" She calls from the other room almost incredulously. - oh, right. *Blind* Al.. yeah.. maybe not the best at identifying colors. - Wade looks out the door of the bathroom in the general direction of where Al is seated, minding her business.

"See? Al likes how yellow they are." He says in spite of everything, "Do you want to get in the tub now, munchkin?"

"no. No bat-time." Logan, as little as he is right now, scowls. It doesn't have the intended effect, but Wade lets out a dramatic groan anyway. Toddlers.. can't be reasoned with.

"Unfortunately not how this works, kiddo." Wade says, crouching down next to the tub where Logan has firmly planted himself against the tile. He's no longer wearing his top, seeing as it was an unfortunate bystander to some sticky pancakes and cubed meats. All chopped up nice and small so Logan wouldn't choke but big enough that he could chew on em a decent bit.

"Don' need ta." The adamantium boned toddler huffs in response, "'m not dirty."

"no, but you are sticky, kiddo. And you were playing outside with Storm earlier so I bet you got a bit icky there too." This only makes Logan's scowl firmer. The once little pout growing in such a way that makes Wade's heart ache. If it weren't for the fact that Al would definitely nag him about Logan's sticky fingers, face, chest, shoulders... Logan's general *stickiness*, he doubts he'd ever manage to get the rascal to ever bathe.

"Papa get in first." He said firmly, pointing to the tub like he's the one calling the shots. Which he is. Wade is a weak weak man for his grumpy little guy. "'n no dunking."

'Dunking' in this case stands for dipping the little guy's head under water. Wade would never, but it gets mentioned at least once per bath time. Upon hearing the statement, Wade throws up his hand in a solemn oath.

"Scouts honor." Now, Wade has never been a boy scout, but he's also never been one for hurting kids so the promise still stands. With that, he slips out of his slippers and rolls his sweatpants up to his knees so he hopefully won't get too soaked, and he sits down on the edge of the tub. The water in the tub isn't too deep, only reaching up to around the middle of Wade's calf, with another few inches on top of thick yellowy foam from the bath bomb Logan relished in watching dissolve.

Still reluctant, Logan watches as Wade sits on the edge of the tub for a while. And Wade lets him. It's a slow process, always is, but after a few minutes of pouty glaring Logan tugs off the last of his clothes then clambers up into the tub with a bit of help from Wade. Just to ensure he doesn't slip. The water is still nicely warm despite the slow process, maintained by frequent touchups of hot water and lifting up the plug to let out the cold.

"Good job, peanut." Wade says softly as he grabs an old cup, bright red in color and decorated with a variety of stickers, and starts to ladle water over Logan's shoulders. He's learned the hard way that Logan has the 'if my head gets wet in a dry room I will shake until it's dry' reflex, so hair washing stays until the end.

Logan is quiet and stiff, letting out the occasional whine despite himself. Seems he's on the silent treatment side of the spectrum rather than the 'giving a cat a bath' side. It's almost worse, but Wade knows he'll perk back up once things are done.

So he starts to gently scrub the sticky syrup and dirt from Logan's hands, meeting his eye as best he can. His little one is sulking, lip still pouted out, eyes downcast and sad.

"Bath time is no fun, I know, my sour faced friend." Wade sighs, "anything that could make it better, bubbie?"

Logan stays quiet for a while, only moving when Wade needs to reach somewhere to clean. "No."

"mmm." Wade mumbles, taking the removable showerhead off of its holder so he can quickly rinse off Logan, getting his hair and rinsing off the soap. "Just a moment.."

"done?"

"Yep. All done, honeybun." He says as he stands up to grab a towel from the shelf, that earns him some grabby hands and a desperate search for 'uppies'. Which he gladly satisfies after bundling him up in a towel. Yeah, I can pick him up. Adamantium skeletoned 300+ pound toddler? No biggie. "Let's get you in some jammies and maybe you can convince Nana Al to let you put on a movie. That sound good, bubsicle?"

Logan nestles his head into the crook of Wade's neck and nods a little, his limbs clinging to Wade like a koala clings to a tree. He's really not used to being picked up, regardless of how much he asks for it.

"And then Papa pool is gonna make some chicken nuggets and fries and we're gonna forget all about that icky horrible bath." Wade continues as he carries Logan to the bedroom, patting his back occasionally.

"Dino shapes?" Logan asks quietly.

"Oh, definitely. That makes em more nutritious." Wade scoffs, pulling out a pair of comfortable flannel pants and a T-shirt that still manages to be baggy even on Logan's broad frame. The faded pattern still clearly reads 'Bambi' with the titular character looking up at a butterfly while sitting in a bed of flowers. It's a favorite of his, and maybe Wade has been messing with continuity to make sure it never wears out. Maybe. Come on, every one needs their recognizable outfits!

Logan dresses himself with only a touch of help with the socks. Then he does that silly toddler walk, the one where its more stomps than normal footfalls, off towards Al with Wade following close behind.