#and he had the first few years to grasp fatherhood

[willowser]

aww you know, i actually really do like the idea of double boy dad bakugou 🥺

your first son being a little angel and you and katsuki are both perfectly satisfied, and then maybe another bug comes as a surprise a few years later and he turns out to be a heinous little menace — and katsuki didn't think he'd love having a brat of a child so much 🥺

[reverseenchancia]

The Sparkle of Fatherhood

Summary:In the enchanting world of Enchantia, Cedric, the royal sorcerer, finds joy and challenge in raising his spirited four-year-old daughter, Vivian. One afternoon in his cluttered workshop, Vivian’s boredom leads to a delightful potion-making adventure that rekindles their bond. As they mix colorful ingredients and create a sparkling concoction, Cedric reflects on the lessons learned since his first moment of discipline when Vivian was just two. Through laughter and creativity, they navigate the ups and downs of parenthood, discovering that the true magic lies in their shared experiences and love for one another. Join Cedric and Vivian as they explore the whimsical world of potions, all while deepening their father-daughter connection.

Cedric sat in his workshop, surrounded by the familiar clutter of potions and spellbooks. His mind drifted back to a day that had long since passed, yet remained vivid in his memory—the first time he had to discipline his daughter, Vivian. Vivian was only two years old, a bundle of energy and curiosity. Cedric remembered her toddling around the workshop, her tiny fingers reaching for everything within her grasp. One afternoon, she had managed to get hold of a particularly volatile potion. Cedric's heart had leapt into his throat as he snatched it from her hands just in time.

"Vivian, no!" he had exclaimed, his voice sharper than intended. The little girl had frozen, her wide eyes filling with tears. Cedric knelt down, his heart aching at the sight of her distress. "I'm sorry for raising my voice, sweetheart," he said gently, "but some things are dangerous."

Vivian sniffled, looking at him with a mix of confusion and hurt. "Bad?" she asked in a small voice.

Cedric nodded, pulling her into a comforting hug. "Yes, bad," he affirmed softly. "But you're not bad. You just have to be careful."

The memory faded as Cedric returned to the present, a smile tugging at his lips. Vivian was older now, wiser and more cautious, but that moment had been a turning point for both of them—a lesson in patience and love that Cedric cherished deeply. As Cedric and Vivian gathered ingredients for their potion, the workshop buzzed with a renewed sense of excitement. Cedric carefully selected a few harmless ingredients, ensuring that their concoction would be safe for his curious daughter to handle.

"All right, Vivian," Cedric said, setting a small cauldron on the table within her reach. "First, we add a pinch of glittering stardust. It’ll make the potion sparkle just like your favorite tiara."

Vivian’s eyes widened with delight as she watched her father sprinkle the shimmering powder into the cauldron. She clapped her hands eagerly. “My turn, Daddy!”

Cedric handed her a small vial of rosewater. “Pour this in slowly, just like we practiced.”

With utmost concentration, Vivian tipped the vial, letting the liquid flow gently into the cauldron. The mixture began to swirl with iridescent colors, casting a kaleidoscope of light across the workshop walls.

“Look, Daddy! It’s like a rainbow!” Vivian exclaimed, her earlier fussiness forgotten. Cedric chuckled, nodding in agreement. “It is indeed. Now for the final touch—a single drop of moonbeam dew.”

He guided Vivian’s hand as they added the last ingredient together. The potion bubbled softly, releasing a sweet, floral fragrance that filled the room.

“Perfect!” Cedric declared, giving Vivian an approving nod. “You’ve done an excellent job, my little sorceress.”

Vivian beamed with pride, her earlier boredom replaced by a sense of accomplishment. “Can we make more potions tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Cedric replied warmly. “We can make as many as you like.”

As they cleaned up their workspace, Cedric marveled at how much his daughter had grown since that first disciplinary moment two years ago. Her curiosity and enthusiasm were boundless, and he cherished every opportunity to nurture her budding interest in magic. Vivian, now four years old, was a whirlwind of energy in Cedric's workshop. Her laughter echoed as she explored the myriad of colorful potions and odd trinkets. But soon, her excitement waned, and she plopped down onto the cold stone floor, a fussy pout forming on her adorable face.

“Daddy!” she whined, her tiny hands tugging at his robe. “I’m bored!”

Cedric looked up from his spellbook, a mixture of amusement and concern in his eyes. “Bored? But there’s so much to see! What about that potion over there?” He pointed to a shimmering vial filled with swirling colors. Vivian crossed her arms, her lower lip quivering. “I don’t wanna look at potions! I wanna play!”

Kneeling beside her, Cedric softened his tone. “Okay, how about we create something together? We can make a sparkly potion for your dolls.”

Her eyes lit up at the suggestion. “Can I stir it?”

“Of course! You’ll be my special assistant.” Cedric smiled, relieved to see her mood shift. As they gathered ingredients, Vivian’s giggles filled the room again. Cedric realized that even in moments of fussiness, their bond grew stronger through shared experiences and creativity. Later that evening, as they sat together under the warm glow of candlelight, Vivian snuggled close to her father. “Daddy,” she whispered sleepily, “I love making potions with you.”

Cedric wrapped an arm around her, his heart swelling with love and pride. “And I love making them with you too, Vivian.”

As she drifted off to sleep in his arms, Cedric knew that these moments—filled with laughter, learning, and love—were the true magic in their lives.

[bridgertonbabe]

Does Franscescas story also include miscarriage and infertility?

I would be interested to know how her infertility affects her relationship with her family and friends.

What about Michael? What are his emotions like? What is the wizard perspective of miscarriage and infertility?

Is any Magic involved in making lil'John and Janet?

Anon asked: How is infertility treated in the Wizarding world? How would fran and michael make a family?

*Trigger Warning: this post contains mentions of miscarriage.*

From a young age Francesca always knew she wanted to be a mother and though she briefly wondered if Michael wouldn't be the type of person to ever want kids, seeing just how much he loved doting on their nieces and nephews affirmed that he would one day be the world's best dad. But they still had years ahead of them to start a family and both were content to continue the tour life and enjoyed travelling the world together.

It wasn't until Eloise announced her pregnancy not too long after Penelope's that Francesca brought up the subject of starting a family with Michael. While Eloise had been a mother to Oliver and Amanda for nearing ten years, Francesca genuinely never expected her sister to want to go through a pregnancy herself and what's more she was shocked that Eloise of all people was going to have that experience before she did. She was relieved when Michael turned out to be on the exact same page as her, having felt flabbergasted that Colin was beating him to fatherhood; and so they decided to start trying right away.

After a couple of months Francesca did fall pregnant, however she miscarried after only a few weeks. While it was upsetting, Francesca tried to be pragmatic about it and persevere, assuring herself that miscarriages occur in 1 in 4 pregnancies and it shouldn't discourage her from trying again. However much to her frustration almost an entire year went by before she was able to wave a positive pregnancy test in front of Michael - but unfortunately it resulted in another miscarriage. In spite of the disappointment, Francesca remained determined to get pregnant and once again she and Michael began trying.

However another year went by, during which time Penelope and Eloise each welcomed another baby with relative ease. As happy as she was to meet her newest niece and nephew, Michael could see the hurt in Francesca's eyes when she held Thomas and Georgiana for the first time. He knew just how badly she wanted to be a mother and carry her own child and he was suffering not because of struggle to conceive a baby of their own but to see his wife suffering no matter how hard she tried hiding it.

He resolved to do everything in his power for them to be able to have a baby and took charge; booking fertility tests, looking into IVF, reading up on potions that were meant to increase the chances of carrying a pregnancy to term. He hoped by taking even one of those steps that they'd be on their way to having a baby; however the results of the fertility test revealed that they had a very low chance of ever conceiving a baby naturally. As crushing as it was, Michael refused to let the odds stand in the way of creating a family with Francesca. After contacting the best potion masters in the wizarding world he acquired specialist elixirs that should help them on their way to making a baby, which they took while simultaneously having their first round of IVF. Michael had been trying to keep positive for both himself and Francesca, willing on for all of their efforts to work; and yet both the potions and the IVF proved fruitless, and after three unsuccessful rounds Francesca declared she couldn't go through with another.

After that Francesca couldn't even bear to talk about it, despite Michael trying to get her to open up. He became desperate to try and find some alternative way of conceiving, to the point which he began grasping at straws and looking into dubious potions being sold in Knockturn Alley and even unlawful spells that supposedly might work a miracle. He gathered all the information that he could and presented it to Francesca in a last-ditch attempt to provide her with the one thing she longed for, however Francesca lashed out and firmly told him to stop because if none of the conventional methods worked for them there was no way in hell that any of the nefarious alternative routes would work either.

For the next week Francesca didn't utter a single word to him and a distraught Michael took to sleeping on the couch just to give her space. Then at a family birthday party at Aubrey Hollow, Gregory and Lucy revealed they were expecting their second child; and it turned out to be Francesca's breaking point. She excused herself from the festivities and went up to her old bedroom where she proceeded to cry her heart out. She jumped when there was a gentle knock and told Michael to leave her alone but she was surprised when the door opened to reveal Sophie instead.

Sophie didn't hesitate to rush to her sister-in-law's side, holding her tightly as Francesca cried on her shoulder and the younger woman released all the heartache she had been suffering from over the last three years. When she was no longer able to shed any more tears, she told Sophie all about her infertility struggles, how devastated she was to miscarry twice, and how much it hurt that none of the efforts they had gone to had worked.

"It's not fair." she shook her head. "Eloise never even wanted to be pregnant. Since we were kids she always said she couldn't stand the thought of having a baby bump, and she always joked that getting together with Phil was a win-win because she had Oliver and Amanda without the aches and pains of pregnancy and childbirth; but then she still went on to have Penny and Georgiana like it was nothing." she vented, expressing all the underlying ugly bitterness that had built up inside of her over the years. "And then there's Daphne; popping out four kids in four years with barely any time in between to breathe. And don't get me started on Hyacinth having kids before me - and now Greg's having another baby; I mean, they're still just kids to me and they're already parents and I'm not... and probably never will be." she swallowed and looked away as soon as she saw Sophie tilting her head sympathetically at her. "It's just not fair. How come it's so easy for everyone else?"

Sophie's hand clutched hers as she tucked a loose lock behind Francesca's ear. "I miscarried." she uttered and Francesca snapped her neck to look at her. "Twice."

"Really?" Francesca gulped, stunned to hear that Sophie had experienced the same agony as she had.

"The first one I tried to forget about. It would have been a honeymoon baby and I miscarried early on. I didn't even know I was pregnant until the doctors told me. I couldn't believe it and I felt guilty for not even realising and for miscarrying in the first place. But I shrugged it off and told myself it would have been way worse if we had actually been trying and I had known and celebrated the fact that I was."

"What about the second time?" Francesca asked tentatively and squeezed Sophie's hand, communicating that she could take her time as she was sharing such a vulnerable time in her life.

"We had been trying. And we were so thrilled." Sophie explained and wore a sad smile as she continued. "We agreed we'd wait until the 12 week scan before we told anyone and after everything seemed alright we decided to announce it at Violet's birthday a few days later. But then when I was at work I suddenly experienced cramping... and I knew." she exhaled. "I knew I was losing the baby. Your dad took me to the hospital and called Benedict but by the time he got there the baby was gone. And I felt like my whole world had come crashing down. We begged Edmund not to breathe a word about it. I couldn't stand the thought of Violet or Daphne or Kate or Posy coming over to sympathise. I couldn't bear the thought of anyone who had only experienced successful pregnancies to be around me. And then at your mum's birthday someone passed Miles into my arms and I still don't know how I didn't break right then and there. Do you know what I did instead?"

"What?"

"I ran up to Ben's old room and burst into tears." she revealed, and Francesca's heart thumped emphatically; as heart-wrenching as it was to hear about Sophie's losses, she took comfort that she had done the exact same thing she had done by fleeing to an old bedroom to break down in private. "It was killing me to be around everyone else's babies without being able to call any of them my own."

"That's exactly how I feel." Francesca commiserated. "It's how I've felt for the last three years now. And I hate being this self-pitying jealous-ridden bitter cow. I don't want to feel so angry and sad without any let up... but I don't know what else to do."

"I can't imagine what the last three years must have felt like for you. And I know there's nothing I can say or do to ease your pain. But it's okay to feel everything that you're feeling. Don't let yourself feel bad for those negative feelings and don't be so hard on yourself for not being able to conceive. I know it's easier said than done but you've got to go easy on yourself; for your own sake."

Francesca nodded, knowing Sophie was right, and realising just how exhausting keeping all her emotions to herself was.

"How did it finally happen for you in the end? Did you have Charlie through IVF, or...?"

"We were prepared to try if it came to that." Sophie answered. "But when I was ready to try again we just took it easy. We didn't put pressure on ourselves to be fervently trying. We treated it as more of a let's just wait and see, and if it happens it happens and if it doesn't then we'll give fertility treatments a go. I let go of any expectations and just cherished being with Ben, and then a few months later we found out we were expecting and we had Charlie."

"The doctors said there's a very low chance of us ever conceiving naturally." Francesca uttered. "As much as I'd like to think that just going with the flow could work,"

"But they still said there's a chance." Sophie pointed out. "As low as it might be; there's still the possibility it could happen. I know you've been through so much disappointment and must feel so dispirited; but hold onto that hope. No matter how small it might seem."

After the sisterly heart-to-heart, when they returned home Francesca apologised to Michael for how she had treated him in the last week. It was an apology Michael assured her was unnecessary and he understood how soul-crushing the last three years had been; he was just sorry he couldn't provide her with the one thing she wanted more than anything else. She told him about her talk with Sophie and how they should give it one more year before looking into adoption, but in the meantime they could try without really trying.

And so they chose to let go of all of the heavy expectations that had built up and they had put upon themselves and accepted that conceiving a baby might not happen for them, but not letting that stop them from cherishing each other and getting in the way of their love... and just like that, one year later they welcomed their beautiful baby son, John.

[jessebyron]

2023 Reading Wrap-Up

Big annual reading wrap up post!!! Here's my 2023 in reading:

I’ve attempted reading 50 books a few times since graduating college, but this year was the first time it actually stuck. In fact, I actually completed 53 titles! Since this is a tad longer than my previous wrap up posts, I’ll have the full list at the end up of this after some commentary.

Here’s some of the most impactful titles from 2023:

The first book I read this year gets a special mention. I read a good handful of sequential fiction this year, but Seance Tea Party was the most impactful. It might be the most impactful growing up story I’ve ever read.

Kings of Wyld: I think this is the most fun I’ve had with ‘high’ fantasy in a long time. A classic fantasy adventure delivered via the thinnest metaphor for an 80s hair metal band that ends up being one of the most heartfelt meditations on family, aging, legacy, and fatherhood that you’ll ever come across. Dirty, crass, hilarious, violent, and beautiful.

Veniss Underground: Yet another masterful fever dream from the man that, for me personally, defines the concepts of weird and experimental. Predating Vandermeer’s Annihilation, Veniss Underground is consuming exploration of story and form and while pushing us to the very edges of what makes a novel and what makes a person.

Hyperion: As anyone who knows me knows, I am a slut for stories about stories. I think this book was one of the smartest written science fiction books in my library. To read Hyperion is to begin exploring a few particular trailheads leading into literature, technology, conflict, and the human condition. I’ll definitely be exploring the rest of the Cantos in the years to come. (Be careful researching Simmons himself though. You will be disappointed.)

Shadow of the Torturer & The Claw of the Conciliator (the first two volumes of Gene Wolfe’s The Book of the New Sun): This was the most intellectually challenging of the things I read this year. It’s the first time I read something and then immediately watched multiple YouTube video essays just to grasp fully grasp. But, like a lot of the more challenging texts this year, it is so worth it. Will have to come back to these many times.

The Left Hand of Darkness: beautiful and challenging and enriching as well, this will also take multiple readings to begin to grok it.

The View from the Cheap Seats: Selected Nonfiction: necessary for any Neil Gaiman fan to read. It was awesome diving into how Neil sees the world, the stories he’s encountered, the experiences he’s had, and the insane amount interesting famous people he’s friends with.

The Fragile Threads of Power: less impactful and more just plain ol’ exciting, this was a brilliant return to world first introduced by Schwab’s Darker Shades.

Nostalgia Reads:

So You Want to be a Wizard: maybe the best alternative to Harry Potter. Beautiful and consistent world building that makes sense with stories and characters that invite us to explore who we are in the context of the greater world (and worlds!) around us. Reading the Young Wizards series in elementary school had a deep effect on me that still resonates to this day.

City of Bones: held up surprisingly well? Fun mythology and delightfully angsty characters.

A Wizard of Earthsea: hadn’t read this since senior year when I bought it with the money I won in a micro fiction writing contest, and it was so wonderful to revisit the archipelago.

The Collobaration: a powerful play that now contains one of my dream roles.

Certainly not the first time I’ve consumed The Sandman epic, but the audible versions were exquisite and brought the story to mw in a whole new way. Same thing with full cast audio version American Gods.

Most disturbing: Amygdalatropolis. Don’t read this. No, I’m serious. Not reading this book is an act of self care. You’ll only hurt your own feelings (and body and brain) if you read this book.

Second most disturbing: Tender is the Flesh. Reading this one is also harmful, but you should it.

Most disappointing: Paradise-1 by David Wellington. An interesting premise with a couple of fun bits of world building, it was ultimately defeated by a lack of internal unity and subpar editing.

The full list:

1. *Seance Tea Party by Reimina Yee

2. *Crushed by Don Zolidis

3. *Wiley and the Hairy Man by Susan Zeder

4. American Gods by Neil Gaiman (full cast audiobook)

5. Smoke and Mirrors by Neil Gaiman

6. *The City of Brass by S. A. Chakraborty

7. *Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo

8. *The Cartographers by Peng Shepherd

9. *Rogue Protocol by Martha Wells

10. *Exit Strategy by Martha Wells

11. *Paradise-1 by David Wellington

12. The Sandman: Act 1 (audible original)

13. The Homecoming by Harold Pinter

14. *Veniss Underground by Jeff Vandermeer

15. *Hyperion by Dan Simmons

16. *The Stranger by Albert Camus

17. *Treasure Island: The Adventures of Jim Hawkins adapted by James DeVita

18. The Sandman: Act 1 (audible original)

19. The Sandman: Act 2 (audible original)

20. The Sandman: Act 3 (audible original)

21. *Hellblazer: Rise + Fall by Taylor, Robertson, and Rodriguez

22. *Sandman Mystery Theatre Vol 1: The Tarantula by Matt Wagner, Guy Favis, and John Costanza

23. The Supernaturalist: The Graphic Novel

24. The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan

25. *Kings of the Wyld by Nicholas Eames

26. The Great Hunt by Robert Jordan

27. *Amygdalatropolis by B. R. Yeager

28. The Dragon Reborn by Robert Jordan*Every Heart a Doorway by Seanan McQuire

29. *Down Among the Sticks and Bones by Seanan McQuire

30. *Beneath the Sugar Sky by Seanan McQuire

31. *Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein

32. *The View from the Cheap Seats: Selected Nonfiction by Neil Gaiman

33. *Shadow of the Torturer by Gene Wolfe

34. *Claw of the Conciliator by Gene Wolfe

35. *Peter Pan adapted by Douglas Irvine

36. Shadow Rising by Robert Jordan

37. So You Want to Be a Wizard by Diane Duane

38. *Tender is the Flesh by Augustine Bazterrica

39. *The Collaboration by Anthony McCarten

40. *The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin

41. *The Fragile Threads of Power by V. E. Schwab

42. *Catch Me if You Can by Robert Thomas, adapted by Weinstock and Gilbert

43. City of Bones by Cassandra Claire

44. Jennifer scales and the ancient furnace by Mary Janice Davidson

45. *Why Religion? by Elaine Pagels

46. A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin

47. *Bunny by Mona Awad

48. *Anya’s Ghost by Vera Brosgol

49. *Goblin Market and other Poems by Christina Rosetti

50. The Sandman: Endless Nights

51. *Dada Woof Papa Hot by Peter Parnell

52. *The Gospel According to Thomas Jefferson, Charles Dickens, and Count Leo Tolstoy: Discord by Scott Carter

53. *The Fork, the Witch, and the Worm by Christopher Paolini

Addendum for business: I will no longer be posting on the other three blogs (food, books, and tv/film) related) as it's too much for me to have it all divided up. This will now be my main/only blog

[badgerbl00d]

what makes one piece boys consider fatherhood pt. 2

☆ characters: zoro, kidd

☆ up next: one piece boys rescuing you pt. 2

☆ summary: things you do around these characters that make them think of starting families with you...

☆ a/n: highly anticipated part 2 yay! i absolutely love this prompt and tried to explore the emotional nuances a bit more this time. feel free to suggest characters for pt 3!

☆ part 1!

zoro:

It was irritating enough to Zoro to have run into another crew at all on your way to the next island but that irritation was amplified at the sight of the pink haired jolly roger. 

Luffy was jumping for joy when you passed by Jewelry Bonney’s ship, still not having grasped that she was a rival before she was a friend. And to make matters even worse, the crew caught her at a bad time because the moment Luffy had decided to step aboard her ship to say hello (against everyone’s suggestion not to) he was, almost immediately, turned into a two year old. 

Robin managed to get Luffy back on board without anyone else getting their age rewound while everyone hauled ass to help Nami get as far away as possible from Bonney’s crew. 

An entire day had passed before the Sunny found an island to make a stop at. Jimbe had called ahead and gathered some intel on Bonney’s whereabouts and how to get Luffy fixed, but until then Luffy was stuck in his current state. The crew made the best of the unexpected stop and decided to restock on everything while there.You and Zoro opted to stay behind and watch Luffy for the time being. He had taken a liking to you, fussing if anyone else held him and Zoro said that he refused to leave his captain any more defenseless than he already was. 

He was also finding it difficult to take his eyes off of you while you held and attended to Luffy. He’d thought about it before- having a baby with you. For a while it had even begun to occupy his thoughts as much as his dreams of swords and status did. He’d go to sleep next to you thinking of how he’d take care of you. Not that you weren’t already drowning in his attention and affection but he’d triple it. In the mornings he’d watch you sleeping thinking of how to pose the idea to you. But you had always been the more grounded out of the two of you. He thinks that that’s why he was so in love with you from the moment he’d seen you. You were always so certain and ten steps ahead of everyone around you. He loved it- how you always knew what the best course of action was. But he knew that you’d be sure to shut down the idea if he brought it up. He understood the risk, the danger. So he’d kept it to himself. How could he have known that you felt the same? 

And then, of course, he was brutally reminded of how terrible an idea it really was. That night, a few months ago, when the crew was woken up by the smell of gunpowder and the sound of cannons tearing through the Sunny’s wooden hull. He remembers that initial look of terror on your face and how it made his heart break. That night, as he took deep breaths between every cut his swords made against a marine’s neck, he reminded himself that having a baby with you was a dream he had to let go of. 

Yet here he was. Looking down from the crow’s nest at how you held Luffy against your chest and swayed back and forth trying to get him to sleep. He set down the weights he was using and sighed. 

No, no, no, not this. Not now! 

Despite his better judgment he made his way down the crow’s nest to see you. 

Zoro’s chest ached. He stood and watched you guide Luffy’s little hand to wave at him, his little fingers balling up as he yawns and falls back against your chest. 

The swordsman’s breath hitches as he’s overwhelmed by the memory of when he was first taught to hold a sword. How his small hands couldn’t fit around the handle and so he fashioned one out of wood and twine. 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he called out to you, walking down onto the island. You nodded, bouncing Luffy on your lap who was suddenly seized by a fit of laughter that trailed over the railing and down to where Zoro was, bringing a smile to his face. 

He grabbed several sticks and one big branch, tucking the items under his arm. 

Zoro took deep breaths, trying desperately to think about anything other than you with a round belly and weak ankles, stumbling around, leaning against him for support. 

His chest swelled with pride at the thought of you, so perfect and brave and strong and his, carrying his baby. No one would make it within ten feet of you without having a katana pointed at their throat. He’d dote on you even more than he did now, massaging you and holding you and grabbing you whenever you were close enough for him to get his eager hands on you. 

Possessiveness creeped up into his chest and settled there as he ruminated on the thought. 

He thought about what great aunts Nami and Robin would make, taking care of you in the feminine ways he couldn’t and offering you advice and support. 

How even Sanji would be a good influence on the kid. 

His footsteps slowed as his mind wandered further into this new fantasy, the makings for a mock-sword forgotten. 

Raising a baby on the Thousand Sunny, chariot of the future Pirate King, he could see it so clearly.

He’d spent his entire life following just one dream. No feeling was more familiar to him than that of the rough handles of his katanas, wrapped with ray skin. Or the sound and smell of metal cutting through skin, the wet slick sound of tearing flesh accompanying the broad strokes of his arms. But slowly you were replacing these sensory anchors that Zoro had come to know so well in his twenty one years of life. The calluses on his strong hands used to be indicative of his dedication to training and his tireless efforts toward his goal, but now? Now they were rough patches of sandpaper skin that were as good at rubbing your back and playing with your hair as they were at using swords. The feeling of defeating enemies wasn’t just an enjoyment of his victory, it was pride in the reminder to himself that no one was more capable of protecting you. 

And watching you hold a baby? Thinking of the possibility of you one day holding his baby? It was too much for him to bear. 

He recollected himself, not realizing that he had broken a sweat and made his way back on board the Sunny leaving behind a pile of sticks and twine. 

Zoro was greeted by the heart stopping sight of you holding a sleeping Luffy as you sat on the grass, leaning against the central mast of the Sunny. 

You were so beautiful. 

He made his way over to you, sitting down next to you and pressing a kiss to the top of your head which was warm from the sun. 

“When’s the last time he was this quiet, hm?”

He smiled, “Probably when he was actually two years old.”

“He’s so cute,” you murmured, “Look how tiny his hands are.”

Zoro bit his cheek, fighting every urge in his body to get on his knees and beg you for a baby right then and there. 

You turned to look at him, Luffy’s small hand wrapped around your finger, his mouth open and his cheeks squished against your chest. Your eyes were big and your lips pouted. 

Zoro’s heart swelled. 

He knew exactly what you were about to ask him. 

“Do you ever think about… If we were to-”

“Yes,” he said, failing to conceal the eagerness that had built up within him, “A lot.”

He grabbed onto your shoulders with that gentle yet unwavering strength you had grown so used to, a touch that you readily leaned into.

It was silent, you looked up at him with a kind of adoration that he could only hope was being reciprocated in the way he looked down at you. He closed his eyes, inhaling your scent- your perfume, your shampoo, the sweat from the heat, everything- and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, wrapping his arms around you. He hugged you into him, Luffy squished in between the two of you but still perfectly sound asleep. 

“Zoro.” 

You weren’t sure what response you’d been expecting but this sudden warmth and eagerness was a surprise. It had ignited a small fire in your belly that was getting hotter by the second. 

He took another deep breath before finally taking a step back. 

“We can’t,” he sighed, “It’s too dangerous and right now there’s too much other stuff, I’ve thought about it and- 

It just won’t work. We’re pirates.” 

You gave him a sad smile. 

That was the same conclusion you’d reached when you first started considering the possibility months ago. Luffy stirred against your chest, he was getting antsy. 

You could hear the rest of the crew making their way back. You leaned into Zoro, hugging Luffy a little closer to your chest, savoring these final few moments that showed you a horribly tempting glimpse into what could have been. 

Zoro wrapped his arms tighter around you, hands sinking into your hips as he pressed a rush of kisses to your forehead. 

“Get a room!” Usopp yelled from across the boat. He was helping Sanji up who was juggling crates of groceries and had a half-smoked cigarette hanging from his lips. 

“How’s the baby?” Nami giggled, reaching for Luffy. You happily handed him over (baby fever could only do so much to stave off the fatigue of caring for Luffy). 

“He’s good.. Still a baby. Any leads on Bonney?”

Robin nodded, “She’s stopping for a few days at the next island over. So we have a few more days of baby Luffy.” She didn’t sound upset about it at all. 

Zoro’s hand fell from your hip and you turned to look at him but he was walking away. He had that characteristic drag in his step that let you know he was upset. 

You sighed and shot Nami and Robin a look that said, Let me go take care of the other baby on board.

You followed as closely as you could but he was walking unusually fast. He walked into your room and threw himself down onto your bed. 

You leaned against the doorway, laughing at his childishness. 

“C’mere,” he said, sitting up. He leaned his weight back, propping himself up on his elbows, spreading his legs slightly. His white t-shirt was worn out and slightly transparent, the outline of his muscles visible thanks to the dimming sunlight that poured in through your window. 

You followed instructions and approached him, standing between his legs. 

“What is it, Zo?”

“Sit down.” 

You couldn’t quite identify the emotion in his voice. 

Rolling your eyes and letting out a frustrated puff of air you sat down on his thigh, gasping as he grabbed your waist and pulled you fully onto his lap, your thighs straddling his hips. 

“Zoro.”

A devilish smile graced his features and his lips curved upward into a smile that made your stomach churn. 

“What?” 

You tried ignoring the obvious arousal between his legs, but it was hard to ignore the feeling of him pressing against you.

“I thought you were upset,” you said, starting to push yourself off of him. 

“I am.”

He moved his hands down to your hips and held you firmly in place, the tips of his fingers digging into the softness of your hips. 

You bit your lip. This was a battle you were going to lose.

“Zoro- seriously, you did that shit on purpose. Making me think you were pissed.”

“I am.”

“I can tell,” you said, rolling your eyes. You pushed your hips down into him, grinding just enough to tease him. 

“I’m pissed I can’t give you everything you want, doll.”

You frowned, and leaned forward lying your chest against his. You rested your head against his shoulder, kissing his cheek.

“You’re everything I want.”

He huffed, wrapping his arms around you. 

“I can’t give you a baby now,” he said, squeezing you tighter, “But once we reach our goals I’ll give you everything you could ever ask for.”

“It would still be dangerous,” you observed. 

He laughed, “Who’s gonna tell the King of Hell that he can’t have what he wants?”

“Me.”

He sat up, and pinched your cheeks, “Nope. Not even you. Y’know I’m starting to think I want a baby more than you do!”

You laughed and kissed him, slipping your tongue between his lips. You could feel him smiling against you. Zoro’s hands slid down your back and settled onto your ass. 

“You definitely don’t.”

He slipped a finger in the waistband of your panties and his other hand under your shirt, which he began to pull off.

“Then let me prove it to you.”

kidd:

It had been bothering Kidd for weeks. 

Ever since he took you out to that damn restaurant and the baby sitting behind you had caught your attention. You had a way with toddlers and young kids, they seemed to naturally gravitate toward you– much to his irritation. 

That baby had grabbed a small fistful of your hair from over the booth. You’d let out a small cry of surprise and turned around to face your tiny assailant, whose mother was now trying to contain her. 

He felt his heartbeat speed up as you turned around with a smile on your face and started talking to the baby.

“Hi!” you’d said, your voice going up several octaves. 

“What’s her name?” you’d asked. 

You’d played with the baby the entire time she was there, letting her hold your hand and making her laugh. 

Some unknown warmth spread across his chest as he watched you play with the baby and an unfamiliar scene began to play out in his imagination. 

The thought of late nights spent comforting you and trying to get you to rest, asking Killer to make the most disgusting food combinations at your request, rocking a little version of you to sleep, watching your boobs get bigger…. A slight smirk made its way onto his face as he let his mind wander. 

He’d never been fond of children, even when he was younger. He didn’t get along with kids his age and had always preferred keeping to himself. Besides, kids were irritating. Snot-nosed brats who didn’t listen and never took anything seriously. 

Yet looking at you smile at this baby, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he felt- 

No, he thought to himself, Stop it. This is insane.

He turned his attention back to his untouched plate of food, feeling thoroughly unsettled. Lately he’d been more constantly reminded of how you’d changed him since he met you- how even the smallest bits of your presence had begun to shape some of the more steeled over parts of his personality into tender spots that he had never recognized within himself. You were making quite a man out of him. 

The nervousness inside him had quieted after the baby left and he got your full attention back on him for the remainder of dinner. 

But the thought still lingered in the back of his mind as he helped you up out of your seat and walked you back to the Victoria Punk.

“Eustass,” you’d said, “Have you ever thought about.. Y’know, if we-”

“No.” 

You frowned and smacked his arm, “Let me finish.”

“You’re gonna ask me for a baby.”

Your cheeks turned red, “No! I’m just asking if you’ve ever thought about it. We’d have a cute baby!”

He rolled his eyes, ignoring the pleasure that filled him at the thought.

“Kids are annoying and they complain about everything.”

“So they’re basically exactly like you.”

His brows furrowed and a frown settled on his lips as he snatched his hand from yours.

You laughed at how quickly he proved your point, and the sound brought a small smile back to Kidd’s face. 

“See! You don’t hate the idea!”

“No, sweetheart, I just don’t hate you. And if it makes you happy, well then…”

You hummed, satisfied with that answer for now and laced your fingers back into his, leaning your head against his arm as he walked you back to the ship. 

He’d been letting the feeling sit for several weeks now. He wasn’t sure how to approach it, you were always better at this stuff anyway. It made him uncomfortable, this unknown yearning for something that he could have so easily. Something that was sitting in the palm of his hand but that he still couldn’t grab. 

A gentle knock on the door slightly stirred him as he murmured a ‘Come in’. 

You walked in and stopped behind the chair he was slumped over in and started to gently massage his shoulders.

His workshop was a mess, papers full of scribbles and sketches were littered across the metal furniture in the room. 

The space looked like something out of a gothic horror novel, a steampunk recreation of Dr. Frankenstein’s lab. 

You swiped a finger against a bookshelf as you made your way to Kidd, a dinner plate in your free hand. 

“What have you been doing all day? You missed dinner.”

You showed him your finger, covered in dust, “You need to clean in here. How do you get anything done?”

He groaned, taking the plate from you, beckoning for you to sit on his lap. 

He pushed the clutter on his desk to the side making room for his plate. Metal shavings, mechanical tools, a few vials of… unknown neon green material, dried out pens and dull pencils all fell to the floor in a messy heap. 

You happily indulged his request, pressing a kiss to his cheek and pushing his hair behind his ears as you sat down. 

“Killer’s getting worried y’know. He’s close to coming to talk to you about whatever’s going on.”

He groaned again, louder this time and shoved a heaping pile of food into his mouth. 

“Ugh, Kidd, stop whining. You’re being an absolute child. What’s wrong?”

He sat up, swallowing the food in his mouth- he knew how much you hated when he talked with food in his mouth. You looked down at him, badly hiding how amusing you thought it was to see him like this. 

His cheeks were bright red and he clearly was struggling to find the right words to use.

“Take your time.”

He sighed, closing his eyes, “Remember that baby from a few weeks ago?”

You responded with a look of confusion.

“The little brat at the restaurant that grabbed your hair. Ya thought it was cute.”

“Oh, yes! She was cute. Adorable, even.”

“Well, I’ve been… thinking about what ya said after. About us… having…”

“A baby.”

“Yes. A baby,” he repeated. His words were coming out slower than usual, like he was savoring each and every syllable.

“And…?” 

He stood up, pushing you onto the chair and stormed off to the other side of the room.

You threw your hands up in defeat, and reached for the piece of bread on his plate. You ate, leaning in his red leather chair and watched the minute hand of the ornate brass clock in the corner. 

Six minutes had passed and you were reaching for the other slice of bread on his plate when he spoke.

“Do you want a baby?”

You were silent. This definitely wasn’t what you’d been expecting when you walked in with his dinner. Kidd’s questions were usually more focused on whether it would be ok to use his crewmates as test subjects for his inventions. And you were very used to answering ‘No.’

You sat up in the chair, turning the thought over in your head. Kidd was standing with an unusual amount of anxiety in his stance. His hands were clenched into uneasy fists at his side and he seemed to be ill. 

“Like- right now?”

He shrugged, “Just in general.”

“Where is this coming from? I’d only brought it up the other day ‘cause-”

“Just answer the question.”

You took a deep breath, and looked back up at him uneasily, “Yes.”

He visibly tensed up and stood mouth slightly open, before turning suddenly and storming out of the room. 

“Kidd!”

He walked from his workshop into one of the common rooms on the ship and you secretly thanked whatever powers-that-be that no one else was in it. You were definitely in for some kind of uncomfortable conversation. 

Kidd turned and took a deep breath when he noticed you in the room with him. 

“Can we talk about it?”

He marched back toward the door. You picked up a book and threw it at his back.

It landed with a thump on the floor. Your patience had worn out.

“Why won’t you fucking talk to me?!”

“Because I’m scared- damn it!” he turned, throwing his hands flying up in frustration, “I don’t know what the hell to say to you or- or what to tell you about any of this. I’d be a terrible father and what we’re doing right now is too dangerous for a little brat to be around. And… what if you got hurt or there were complications or you realized that I wasn’t the person you wanted all that with-”

His voice broke and he turned away from you, holding you from him at an arm’s length. 

You ducked past his arm and slipped under him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing kisses against it. 

“Eus’ look at me,” you whispered.

He obeyed and looked down at you, though he was clearly unhappy about being seen crying by you. 

“I don’t mean right now.”

His shoulders relaxed a bit. His eyeliner was smudged and his eyes glassy.

“Still,” he said, “What if one of us doesn’t make it long enough to get to a point where we can?”

Tears welled up in your eyes. Neither of you had signed up for piracy expecting parenthood to be a point of conflict. 

“Eustass, I had no idea that you’d been thinking about all of this. Why didn’t you say anything?”

He averted his gaze and a pout formed on his face, “S’hard.”

You pulled him down by his neck a little further and kissed his forehead.

“You’ll be a great dad,” you said between kisses, “In a few years.”

He let out a laugh- music to your ears. 

“I’m serious. You’re passionate and you could teach it all about… whatever the hell it is you do in your workshop. And-”

“I know,” he said, “I just can’t let myself fuck something like that up.”

You nodded, running your hands through his hair, “How could you?” 

He sighed, picking you up and taking you with him onto one of the chairs in the room. 

“I dunno,” he muttered, “You’re just so naturally good at that stuff and it’s no surprise to anyone that I’m not.”

You pressed your lips to his, deepening the kiss when his hold on your waist tightened. 

He grounded himself against your touch. It was a gentle, warm reminder that those concealed worries he had about himself were easily dissolved when he was around you. 

“Captain,” you said, finally pulling away from the kiss, knowing he loved it when you used his official title, “What you need to be naturally good at right now is leading this freakshow on a dangerous, unrelenting ocean. And you’re doing quite well.”

He laughed at the nickname you had for the crew, one you came up with several years ago during that agonizing month in which Kidd had been desperately trying to convince you to join him. 

He kissed you again, his hand tangling itself into a fistful of hair he gently grabbed at the base of your neck. He gently pulled back and began placing hot, open-mouthed kisses against it. 

You smiled, “I see. This was your goal in luring me to this room.”

You could feel your Captain smiling against your neck, gently nipping at it with his teeth. 

“Maybe,” he said, sliding his hands under your shirt and pulling it over your head. 

You grinded your hips into his, savoring the feeling of how hard he was- proof of the effect your words had on him. 

“Captain?”

His hands had made their way to the clasp of your bra, snapping it off in one fluid motion. 

You moved your shoulders so that the straps fell off of them and slid the bra off of your chest, letting it rest on his lap. 

“Yes, my love?”

You could tell that he was struggling to contain his eagerness to have you. His breath both quickened and deepend, and his prior uncertainty had been replaced with that all too familiar animalism that informed you of what was going on inside that disorganized mess of a brain he had. 

“Since it will be a while before we have a baby,” you said, leaning into him and starting to slide off your shorts, “Don’t you think we should get in some practice?”

The blood in Kidd’s body split in two, half of it rushing upward and the other half down. He grabbed you and not-so-gently laid you down onto the table in front of the chair you’d been occupying. He slid his pants down with one hand while he kissed you, his chest pressing against yours. 

“Sweetheart,” he said, salivating at the sight of you, ���Fuck everything I said. You’re getting a baby tonight.”

[hstarke]

HENRY.

There were days when Hans thought he would die. Days last anywhere from a minute, to a month, to a year at a time.

The thought creeped through the gaps of his father’s fist, the ricochet of army weaponry, the rusty bounce of a field hospital mattress which he’d bled almost entirely red.

—

Ever since turning deaf, the world spoke into one ear and Death whispered in the other. If not for the abuse or the bullets or the blow to his head, then the drugs and lifestyle that came after. The overwhelming ease of a penthouse on the 50th floor.

Some people dream of having children, while others are repulsed by it. Then, ever rarely, men come into existence too unaware of the possibility to even fall into its trap. Hans hadn’t dreamt of having children but he’d thought of it briefly: casually yet inconsequentially, like making your own almond milk instead of buying it chilled. To no one’s surprise, the constant threat of closure limits any musing on a true future:

You’re rotten and that’s the end of it, it goes. You’ll die and that’s the end of that. Try and taint as many as you can on your way out.

From death row to spiritual shame. No matter which way you twist it, Hans Starke was doomed to die alone and with half a dozen chemicals running in his veins. That thought, that was only a thought and not a dream, made even more distant. The million dollar question then is, How could a man who can’t even care for himself, care for anything else?

—

Four years ago, he had not a crush, but someone to become obsessed with day after day. Death kept to bi-weekly visits. Not a lover, not a partner, not the only person he wanted at the end of the day — not words that only barely camouflaged the truth. Monthly, then. Adam became so much more than that.

Hans wasn’t built for marriage any more than he was built for fatherhood or sobriety — morale or partners left unscarred. Figuratively, of course. He’d break a hundred spirits but never bone.

—

At least a few ruled false. He hides behind Adam now, an embrace flat against his back with hands locked at his front — taking turns between free breaths and burying a nose into a fine neck. Looking up and catching an icy yet soft gaze, there are no more heartbeats left to skip. Hans can taste muscle-tissue right at the base of his tongue. He drowns it with a quick, but telling kiss. To his husband only, he whispers, “What the fuck.”

He hadn’t been fond of hospitals ever since that year, the sterile smell enough to trigger something that keeps him hostage still. But he fights it, chest drumming, as a little something innocent is placed in his arms.

(Hans couldn’t hear the cry, but perhaps it’s for the best — pictured now, the first time the man who can so easily command rooms would ever seem nervous.)

It can barely keep its eyes open but they’re blue, and Henry already has it in him to cling tight to Hans’s shirt in whatever strength that little hand has. “...Hey, buddy.” The nurse instructs him to take the fabric off — something about bonding — so he does, the act of peeling it out of the babe’s grasp only adding to momentary laughter.

Soon, it’s round cheeks to a warm chest, that strong grip around daddy’s finger instead. Hans is painfully sober, but he’s glad he is — how else could he remember this?

[myelocin]

baby steps | tsukishima k.

synopsis:  patience was a word that was both a struggle and a gift for you, kei, and your five year old son.

characters: tsukishima kei, you, your son

genre: fluff, family!au

wc: 1500+

a/n: hi nina lol

tsukishima kei wasn’t too keen on fixing messes all that much, but fatherhood definitely did pose the challenges in life he wasn’t expecting to take on so soon in his life.

then again, a difficult challenge was still a sign of progress at the end of the day. or at least, that’s what he always tries to tell himself. getting him to admit his struggle was the one thing that took you tooth and nail to achieve.

your husband was—is—a stubborn man.

he stood his ground with a resolution quite steadfast; usually, for the right reasons, but in moments like these it just infuriated you to no ends. but patience, thankfully, was one of your strong suits. you could read kei as if you were reading a summary of a book; where within a quick scan of the page, or in this case his posture, you already could grasp at the hints regarding the thoughts that must be swimming through his head.

and as you watch him, now: bent over and trying to reason with your son over a petty, very avoidable reason—you can only laugh when you could practically make out the veins that are forming at the side of his head.

you don’t really recall the context of what they were arguing about, but your son inherited your will to stand your solid ground in the middle of arguments. and unfortunately for kei, what your son inherited from him was his witty mouth and smart retorts.

“papa am not being stubborn!” you hear your five year old exclaim, and you could only stand in the corner and watch in amusement as kei shakes his head and gathers his patience with a long inhale, then a sigh, as he shoots you a withered look asking for help.

you smile at him and nod. go on, your expression says.

inwardly, you chortle at the sight of your kei practically deflating at the announce of his defeat.

“if you eat it now you’ll get a tummy ache,” you hear your husband reason.

a longing look from your son to the cotton candy cart a few feet away doesn’t fly past you, so when you look over towards your husband who is staring at you a little more intensely now, you relent with a small smile.

“you know,” you start, then walk over towards the pair to squat down in front of your son. “you should listen to your papa more because he knows what he’s talking about.”

the corners of his lips move into what you could safely guess is a pout, but before you could add to your comment, kei is already sighing, hands moving forward to fix the collar of your son’s sweater. you smile; it’s the same kind of dark green that the three of you are wearing. he has the classic mickey mouse ears on his head, and even if it looks a little too big on him in the moment—when he shakes his head with his stubborn no again, you could only laugh as the two ears shift with the momentum of its weight and move forward.

your husband beside you holds in a snicker.

“papa doesn’t know because he doesn’t like cotton candy.”

your son huffs and whips his head to the side, opting to face away from the both of you altogether this time.

kei sighs again, adjusts his glasses that have been in place the entire time before standing up to his full height and shooting you another look.

“wanna hear a secret?” you start. at the word secret and at the sound of your whisper directed towards him and specifically away from kei, your son perks up and tilts his head towards you, blinking a couple of times before he bashfully asks “what” in a soft voice.

“lean closer so papa doesn’t hear,” you whisper again, and behind you, you snicker at the sound of your husband purposely walking to the other side as to not interrupt your makeshift secret meeting with your son. once out of earshot, your son leans towards you, his hands on your shoulders and soft amber eyes staring straight at you, wide with the childlike wonder you’ve come to love so much.

“mama,” he whispers, cupping his hands around his mouth as he makes sure—in his own way—that it’s just you who can hear him. “what’s the secret?”

the feel of your son’s tiny hands fisting the material of your jacket around your shoulders has a smile promptly breaking out of your face. the look on his face; from his eyes to the tiny quirk of the corners of his lips looked just like kei’s, you muse.

as much as he is yours—he still truly is his father’s son.

humoring him, you cup your hands around your mouth much like he’s still doing and lean a little closer, as you whisper, “your papa used to eat so much strawberry shortcakes, he got a tummy ache from that and he couldn’t ride the rides he wanted to go to. that’s why he’s telling you to not eat the cotton candy until later so that you can have fun now.”

“papa ate too much cake?” you hear him exclaim, eyes widening to an even wider degree.

you nod, before biting your lips to hold back a chuckle as you watch your son attempt to process the information about his papa who always was the one to remind him not to eat too much do the very thing he told him time and time again not to do.

at this point, kei can only stand from a few feet away as he watches you try to whisper to your son with a volume that he can very much hear. still, he smiles, shifting his view promptly towards the screen of his phone when he notices his son peek at him to see if he’s listening into the secret conversation.

patience, kei thinks really is the one thing that he finds himself struggling with.

with parenthood, every day still felt like a day one. his son was growing. his views of the world changing; words evolving; feelings rising and diving day after day where a pattern isn’t promised. and truth be told, at first it terrified him.

reading about how to cradle a baby, change a diaper, hold their hand, and give advice was one thing—but actually applying it and changing tactics almost every day just to catch up with their growth was a completely different field.

but still, kei supposes that the silver lining in this situation was that even if his and your role in the world now was to hold a hand you brought into this world and help it grow with the world—day by day and change after change, the both of you were growing and learning too.

the truth is, kei realizes, as patient as the both of you were—your son had just as much patience as well.

like you were patient in the way you talk through his tantrums, or kei as he is willing to explain the concept of subtraction ten times in a row—your son, on the other hand, was patient in the sense that he still understood that his parents have short comings.

so when kei hears, “papa,” in the soft voice that he knows is from his very own flesh and blood, his heart swells. seconds later, he feels a hand latch onto his larger one and when he looks down and left, he sees eyes of a hue that mirror his stare at him with a smile.

“can we get strawberry shortcake and cotton candy after the rides?”

“you sure you don’t want them now?” he asks, smiling at his son, then at you when he catches you staring.

“issokay,” he hears his son whisper with a resolve that sounds a lot like yours. “am patient. will wait until after.”

beside your son, you smile. you feel his hand grab a hold of yours when you begin walking, and as you stare at kei—you offer him a smile back.

little, baby steps are what the three of you take. kei’s usually larger strides covering less ground; your usually brisk walk now slowed, to match the little steps of your son walking in between the two of you with both of his hands holding one of his and one of yours.

patience, you think.

it’s kind of a pretty word.

 -

[softomi]

The Daughter

prompt: the biggest lesson learned as a parent is that in the end, love is all you need. 

series: The Girl

find part one here: ☆

Atsumu always felt like he was on top of the world, there was nothing he couldn’t fix or solve; something he told you was a dad’s instinct. You laughed in his face, cackling for five minutes, losing breath as you held your stomach.

“Daddy! My doll broke!” Ayumi looked up at her dad, sad six year old eyes with tears just threatening to fall.

It was no problem for Atsumu, “All done!” Atsumu waved the doll in the air, not even three seconds after, the plastic doll’s head fell off once more. Ayumi began to bawl, her favorite doll was no longer going to be played with again. Atsumu’s face fell immediately, panic stricken, he lifted his daughter in the air, “Don’t cry, you know what daddy’s gonna do?” He’s wiping her tears as she starts to settle down, “We’re gonna go to the store and buy you all the dolls in the world!”

“Atsumu.” Your head shot out from the kitchen, a finger pointed at him, “You just bought her a kitchen set!”

He lets his daughter run off to get ready for their little day trip to the mall, “It’s just a few more toys. If it’s such a problem, I’ll take them to my place.”

A few more toys resulted in a small dent into his bank account. It was one of the first lessons he learned as a father, money can solve almost every problem. But as long as his little girl was happy, then he was happy.

There were moments, he discovered, where if she was happy; he wouldn’t be happy. As much as he wanted his little girl to always want to stay by his side, her mother raised her to stand on her own and to always go into things headstrong.

“Okay, bye.” Even as the words left his mouth, he still held her hand.

“Daddy!” She laughed.

Atsumu bent down to her eye level, “Yes. Should we go home instead?!”

Your hand collides with the back of his head, “Don’t you dare.”

Much to his dismay, she pushes his hand off. The teacher smiling as she grasps her hand. Atsumu feels like his world is leaving him. But then she turns, letting go of the teacher’s hand to run to her father. Atsumu hugs her so tight, for a little tiny thing, she had become so strong over six years. She’s pressing a kiss on his cheek.

 “Bye daddy.”

“Bye baby.”

She’s scampering off into the classroom. Atsumu commends how independent his daughter was; just like her mother taught her to be. 

The older his daughter grew, the more he began to feel useless. Atsumu was worried since his daughter had been in the bathroom for a long period of time. He waited momentarily outside of the door before he faintly knocked. He could hear her shuffling, pulling the toilet paper more and more.

“Is everything alright in there?” Atsumu knocked once more.

“Yeah.” She said, “Dad?”

Atsumu perked, “Yes!”

“Could you get me my phone? I want to talk to mom.”

It hurt him, he was always jealous when she chose you over him. And in the speed of light, you arrived knocking at his door. A rushed expression on your face as you walked past him and to the bathroom. The bag in your hand clearly exposing the pads and tampons.

“Well I could have done that.” Atsumu whispers and you shoot him a look before you can open the door.

“Yes, because she would totally be comfortable with her dad helping.”

Atsumu knew you were right; so it hurt even more when the bathroom door slammed shut. He learned a harsh lesson in fatherhood, there’s just some things fathers can’t do for their daughter. That weekend was supposed to be his with his daughter; but you tried to assure him that it was nothing personal when she insisted on going home with you.

His little girl was no longer the cute baby that would hide behind her father. By the time she entered high school, she became an independent, stubborn, competitive, headstrong woman. It made him grin, it made you slightly fearful, she had the best qualities of her mother and father. And it was easily understood that whatever she was going to do in life, she was going to be the best.

“It’s just a hobby right now.” His daughter was breaking his heart.

“But, it’s such a great career path for you. You could go anywhere under a volleyball scholarship.” The food in front of Atsumu had been untouched for the last thirty minutes.

Your hand nudged his knee, shooting a glare from the corner of your eye, “She can make her own decisions. If she feels that volleyball isn’t the path for her, then we should respect what she wants.”

“Uncle Samu followed his dreams, so why can’t I?” She raised her voice.

You tried to keep a hand on Atsumu’s knee, trying to calm him but it did no good. Like father, like daughter; they were going to clash until one of them got what they wanted or worse their relationship would be strained.

“It doesn’t matter what your uncle did!” Atsumu stood from the table, “You’re taking the volleyball scholarship, it’s been decided.”

“Dad!” She screamed as her father walked away. Her lips starting to quiver, “Mom.” She began to wail.

Your hands clean up the leftover untouched food from the dinner table, “Let him think for a few days. You and your father are so quick to say whatever is on your mind.” Your hand falls onto her head, “besides, you know he’ll come around; why else do you think he’s still supporting your uncle. He’s just scared.”

Scared was exactly what he was. He could send her to the best schools, the top universities that would cater to her skills, and even better, she would still be able to be near him. Atsumu had yet to even think about what her other dreams were; he was too distracted with her volleyball career.

Perhaps this was another harsh lesson into fatherhood; he would eventually have to let go. He had to let her make her own decisions, make her own mistakes, become her own person. You had raised her to be independent, to never back down, to always fight for what she wanted; exactly as he had raised her.

“I’m going to do it.” She looked at her father bright and early in the morning. Her words laced with bitterness and challenge, “If I win at nationals, I’m going to choose where I go to school. If I lose, I’ll do the scholarship.”

“Deal.”

In her last year of high school, she placed second at nationals. Atsumu watched her fight for her team, more specifically, for what she wanted. It was perhaps, the most beautiful way, anyone could end their volleyball career.

Atsumu learned that despite their little challenge, his daughter had a hidden card; her mother. No matter the turnout, she had chosen a school based in America. The cost was on the expensive side but as Atsumu knew; any amount of money for her happiness was worth it.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Atsumu removed the luggage from the back of the car, “If you need anything.”

“Yes, I know.” She giggled as she grabbed the luggage from her father, “You’re one phone call away. Dad I’ll be fine. I’ll call you before I get on the plane, right when I land, and as soon as I reach the university.”

Atsumu wasn’t ready to let go of his daughter, he hugged her; not wanting to let go at all, “Just remember, no boyfriends.”

Your hand slaps Atsumu on the back, he whines, “Make sure you call me first.” You’re straightening her hair, as if it would get through to her how much you were going to miss her, “Make sure you eat properly, drink lots of water, and I packed you some snacks for before and on your flight.” Typical mother, your daughter laughed.

Atsumu felt the biggest weight fall on his heart as his daughter turned to wave for the last time. He stood for a minute, as if she would become the little six-year-old, coming back to run into his arms. Atsumu watched his little girl begin her big life.

“Are you ready?” You tease Atsumu.

The man was not prepared, not even the slightest, “Nope.”

The wedding dress on his daughter made him want to cry, in fact, he did cry earlier that day. But as she stood, wanting to give some words to her parents, Atsumu tried to hold back tears; still refusing to believe his daughter was married.

“My dad once told me that a person should only have three things that they need in life; I thought, wow, my dad must be crazy.” She stared into her father’s eyes, “Now I understand, I only need three things in my life: my father, my mother, and my spouse.”

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Geralt and the Minotaur

Y’all can thank @bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher for encouraging me to do this, I defs would have just thought about it for a couple months then forgot 😂

Pairing: None for this part

Warning: talk of violence and murder, retelling of Theseus and The Minotaur myth, talk of human sacrifice, if theres more plz let me know!

Summary/Notes: Myth background in case you didn’t go past the PJO books with your mythology obsession like I did. In ancient Greek mythology they believed in ‘joint fatherhood’ so basically the kid would have attributes from both fathers (bc philosophy was the tits back then not necessarily biology) King Aegeus (Vessimir) couldn’t produce an heir with his wife so he went to the Oracle of Delphi and she told him to ‘open his wine sack’ (helpful right?) long story short he bangs a princess and then Athena (patron goddess of Athens) tells the princess to go down to the sea with an offering where she bangs Posiden (co-patron god of Athens) hence Theseus (Geralt) is not only a demigod but a bastard prince.  I think this is all the background yall are gonna need if you don’t already know the myth

__________

Geralt knew the story well. For as long as he could remember, his mother would comb his stark white hair before bed and he would ask, “Tell me about my fathers?” She would smile fondly and begin to braid his hair in a pattern much like her own. 

“My little hero, your fathers are powerful, fair, righteous men. You have not only the blessing and favor of Poseidon, but the right to the throne of Athens.”

When he was younger he would squirm and protest, “I know mumma, but who were they?”

Vissena would sigh and change the subject until he was older, at which point she began letting the crumbs fall from her words. Crumbs Geralt followed to the truth of his heritage, piecing together stories his grandfather had told him about a sword and sandals pinned beneath a stone. 

When he was twelve, his mother told him the truth.

“You are destined to free the city of Athens from a terrible fate. When you can lift the stone and retrieve your father’s sword you may travel to his palace and claim your place as prince…” Her voice came to a strangled end before she coughed and continued “But you mustn't think about that now. You’ve rope to braid and cattle to feed.”

When he finally told her he was ready to try, her eyes welled with tears. She merely nodded, continuing to run the comb through her baby’s hair like she always had. He understood as he grew older why she was so reluctant to let him go. What mother can willingly send her child away in only destiny’s hands, regardless of his exceptional strength?

At 16, he succeeded in his first task, retrieving his father’s things, and set off to Athens. He went by land, wanting to rely on himself, not his grandfather’s wealth and power. He fought Perophes, disarming the practiced warrior with surprising little effort, to complete his second task. Fighting Coercion sent chills down his spine, with the man’s reputation for killing every opponent he faced he was certainly formidable, but he bested him nonetheless. His third task was complete. However, his name only became synonymous with ‘hero’ after slaying the wild boar. 

His first kill was at 17, still on the road to Athens. He could have let Procrustes live, could have delivered him to the nearest king for imprisonment, but his gut had twisted at the thought of the consequences of his failure. He tied Procrustes to the same small table he tied all his victims before slicing clean through the giant man’s limbs that hung off the edge. Leaving him to bleed out like he’d done to the skeletons littering the floor. It only seemed fitting, though the memory still made him queasy on nights when he couldn't sleep.

Even upon arrival at his father’s home, there was danger staring back at him in those beautiful amethyst eyes. The prophetess Yennefer would stop at nothing to keep the life of luxury and power she’d gained. She whispered false prophecies in King Vessimir’s ear, convincing him this boy who claimed to be his son was nothing but an imposter. Geralt should have expected such a welcome. 

As he lifted a cup of poisoned wine to his lips, Vessimir glimpsed the sword at his side, recognizing it in time to knock the ceramic out of his hand. 

The vessel had yet to shatter on the floor before Vessimir had rounded on the violet eyed woman with fury in his eyes like none Geralt had ever seen. 

The whole of the dining hall was holding their breath, waiting for the explosion to come.

King Vessimir whispered but one word, “Disappear.”

The woman glared daggers at Geralt as she waved her hand, stepping through a portal into nothing. He stared after her for a long time, having never witnessed manipulated magic up close and if he were honest with himself, he was a bit dazed.

As his father explained and apologized Geralt simply tilted his head in confusion, slowly putting the pieces together in his shock.

“Your sword, it was mine. You must forgive me, I believed a lie. I beg you.”

Geralt nodded, “You have a state to protect.”

Vessimir grasped him by his shoulders, “No, I have to protect you.”

Geralt smiled, endeared by the old king’s sudden saccharine sentiments, “I’m no boy anymore, you shouldn’t worry.”

As the rest of the guests at the banquet began to resume conversation Vessimir guided Geralt to a window overlooking the beautiful city that he would now be calling home, “So I’ve heard.  I would have thought your mother would raise you to be more merciful.”

Geralt eyed the ground, “Mercy for one who has killed so many and would kill again isn’t really mercy.” His voice was smaller than he would like, but after all these years of imagining his father, well he hadn’t expected a criticism of his ethics. 

“Good.” Vessimir nodded, leaning against the edge of the window, “We can work on your tone, but that’s a good start.”

A tentative smile took over Geralt’s face, “Work on my tone?”

“If you’re going to rule Athens and defeat Crete, you’ll need to be more assertive. But none of that now,” Vessimir waved a hand and a servant brought two more goblets of wine, “Now, I want to get to know my son.”

-

The following months were filled with lessons, from Vessimir’s top generals in battle strategy and formal combat, from a matronly maid in etiquette and the cultural customs of the port city, and from Vessimir himself in diplomacy. Geralt was thrilled at first, ready to prove himself worthy, but the routine slowly lost its shine. Eskel and Lambert were no doubt excellent fighters and leaders, but there were only so many ways to disarm someone with every weapon in the royal arsenal, and they were running out of challenges for the boy. If that’s what you could call him anymore. With regular meals, unlike during his travels, and the way his trainers pushed him he was starting to look more worthy of his Olympian heritage and place at the throne. 

He stood by his father’s side and paid careful attention to all of his meetings, every last one. Even the ones at dawn after a night of drinking with Eskel and Lambert. 

He sat on a stool, a step down from the platform where his father’s throne was carved out of stone as he observed the nobles bringing their worries, reports, and complaints to the king from the outskirts of the territory. The large amphitheater was teeming with men ready to share their opinion. Geralt found that rarely did anyone bring something that really needed fixing, just listening was usually enough to soothe their egos. It was all rather mundane now, Geralt could mouth the words his father would say before they filled the air, until the last representative. 

"My king, the spring is approaching, will we allow Crete to take our children yet again?”

Geralt’s brows knit together, eyes darting between the man and his father as they spoke.

Vessimir wiped a hand over his face, looking ten years older in an instant, “We don't have a navy that could even begin to challenge Crete’s. We have no choice.”

The gathered crowd erupted in shouts of outrage, only silenced when Vessimir stood, “It is the life of fourteen, or the life of the nation. Which will you surrender?”

There was more yelling, this time between a select few delegates, but Geralt ignored it and leaned to his right, lowering his voice so only Eskel could hear him. 

“What does he mean ‘the life of fourteen’?”

Eskel frowned, “He hasn’t told you?”

Geralt glared at him, waiting for an explanation.

“King Minos’ son was killed at the games a good twenty or so years back, so as penance he takes fourteen virgins from us every nine years. Seven men, seven women, and feeds them to his bastard Minotaur.” Eskel glanced over Geralt’s shoulder at the king, a look of worry clear on his face. 

“I thought the Minotaur was just a story, a parable of Crete’s barbaric nature.”

Eskel raised an eyebrow, not impressed by Geralt's literary analysis, “It’s no tale. It's as real as the ground under your feet, and it plays with its food.”

Geralt whipped his head back around to his father in time to catch his words, “There is no voting on war because of the brashness of your grandfather Letus, tread lightly. Until we have a reasonable plan of action all we can do is submit!"

Before he knew what his legs were doing Geralt was standing and shouting, "I'll go! Send me father! I'll kill the beast and return!" 

Cheers erupted from the crowd but Geralt only cared about his father's reaction and Vessimir was still as stone. For a moment Geralt worried for his heart, then Vessimir gripped his arm and leaned in with a panicked look on his face, "You are my only son, I will not send you to your death." He growled. 

Geralt felt a fire rising in his chest, "Your people are forced to send their children unwillingly yet when yours volunteers you're exempt? Does that seem fair to you?"

Vessimir’s grip tightened, nails digging into Geralt's arm, "Doesn't matter. You are the only heir. I can't risk the stability of the government."

Geralt stepped closer, making sure to stand at his full height, "Then you do not believe in me? In the power and blessings of Posiden that courses through me?" 

Vessimir snarled but said nothing. Surely not used to being challenged, especially not so publicly, about his devotion to the gods. 

Geralt lowered his voice, "I will go. I will free Athens as is my destiny, and I will come back to you unharmed." Geralt gripped his father's arm, and nearly pleaded, "I cannot sit idly by, you know I can't." 

Vessimir's eyes softened ever so slightly as he released his grip, "I should have known your mother would raise a stubborn man." 

Geralt grinned, "She said I got that from you." 

The amphitheater had gone quiet, all eyes on the king and this strange new prince. 

"Geralt will go." Vessimir sighed, clapping a hand on his son's shoulder. The crowd cheered in earnest this time and Geralt soaked it all in, their hope and elation. Vessimir raised a hand for silence and continued, "Now tell me, scholars and strategists, how will we bring him back alive?"

__________

part 2 here!

[s-s-s-s-t-a-r-s]

A New Beginning (Chris x Reader)

Scenario: Chris is away on mission when you give birth to his daughter. He is anxious to meet the new addition.  ( requested by @alleykatxx​ ) 

The clock had just passed two in the morning, and the hospital was silent. Only the rhythmic beeps of distant machinery echoed Chris’s footsteps as he approached the nurse’s station. One attendant sat there, alone and sipping at her coffee.

“Excuse me, miss,” Chris said. The elderly woman at the counter looked confused for a moment. He was fresh off a mission, still clothed in his BSAA regalia. “I’m trying to find someone. Last name is Redfield.”

“Are you the father, then?” she asked. A sweet smile of recognition appeared on her lips.

Chris’s breath hitched in his throat. He was indeed a father now—but where along the way had the Captain become the parent? His years of precise and grueling training could not prepare him for the trial that awaited him. His calloused hands were crafted for the violence of war, not the tenderness of fatherhood.

“Yeah, that’d be me,” he said finally. He hid his anxiety well, but the seasoned attendant had worked in this nursery for far too long to overlook a first-time father’s fear.

“You don’t need to be nervous, you know. Both of the young ladies in there speak very highly of you, Mr. Redfield,” she said. “And really you’re just in time.”

Chris allowed the tension building between his shoulders to ease. “Is she—are they okay?”

“Well, the momma is going to be sore for a while, of course, but that baby is the healthiest child I have delivered in my sixty years. She is really something.”

She. Chris’s whole face brightened. “It’s a girl, then?” He did not have just a ‘child’ now; he had a little girl.

“Your sister knew you’d be happy to hear that one,” the nurse said and chuckled. “They’re in room 205. Head on in whenever you’re ready.” Chris thanked her. He was unsure if he would ever be ‘ready’ for this journey, but, nevertheless, he walked towards room 205.

After a deep breath, Chris knocked on the door. It opened quickly, and Claire ensnared him in a tight hug.

“Holy shit! It’s so good to see you,” she said merrily. “But if it had taken you any longer to get here, this kid would’ve already had her driver’s license.”

Chris opened his mouth on instinct to quip back at her but stopped when he heard your laugh from the center of the room. That laugh was his favorite sound in the world, though it now sounded more languid than joyful. Claire took the hint and gently urged him towards you. She stepped out to give you three a moment alone.

Mouth agape, Chris stared at the surreal scene before him. You rested tranquilly in your hospital bed, with your eyes lidded and your sweat-dampened locks flush against your skin. The rosy tint to your cheek hinted at the exertion of the previous hours. You were a saintly sight, but his eyes fell solely to the little pink bundle swaddled in your arms.

“Is that—”

“Yeah, Chris,” you crooned, the sound half-laugh and half-sob. “Come meet your daughter.”

Every frightened thought and nagging worry of the past nine months had evaporated at those words. He scrunched his face and tried to struggle against the tide of emotion that swept through him, but this battle was one of the few that he could not win. The tears that welled in his eyes spilled over, and he dropped to his knees at your side.

“Jesus, she is so damn beautiful,” he said, quickly wiping at his face. “I can’t believe that I—I helped make this.”

“She has your nose, for proof,” you teased lowly. “And she sure raised Hell on her way out, like a true Redfield.”

Chris chuckled softly and met your eyes. “I am so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“You were busy making the world a better place for her,” you said, genuine. “And you’re here now. That’s what important to me.”

“Right,” he murmured. He collected his guilt and brushed it to the side so that he may revisit it later. For now, he decided, he would focus on the delight that you had just brought into his world. “Can I hold her?”

“Please do,” you urged.

He gently lifted her from your grasp, careful to avoid the IV drip resting on your lap. Such a slight weight was unfamiliar to his weapon-worn arms, but the motion felt natural, nonetheless.

“Hey, princess,” he cooed. “I’m your dad.”

The baby stirred at his voice but remained fast asleep. She seemed blissful, unaware that a man who had faced monstrosities beyond human comprehension without fear had cried at the mere sight of her. The tiny creature slumbering in his arms had already woven him around her little finger, and Chris had never felt more at peace.

 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I know that this request is much newer than the others on my list, but this prompt was perfect for Mother’s Day. I wrote something like how my own mother describes my birth date, where my father cried in front of her for the first time in the ten years that they had been together. I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoyed it too.

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

Happy new year everyone 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

I know 2020 has been hard for everyone.

And I want everyone to know, suffering isn't a contest and we all suffer in different ways. But I feel I should give my year in Review. Just some things that happened to me personally.

This was an intense, and long and spiritual and emotional journey for me...

I really discovered what it meant to have community, family and what my life means to me.

But I feel I need to get this in writing cause I can remember the year with vivid detail and I will probably forget if I don't get it down.

Do I have to share this publically online to my tumblr account for a bunch of strangers to see? not really.

Do I want to?

Yes. I think so. Just from how so many people on tumblr and real life have touched me.

This is kinda long and no one needs to read this.

(idk how to do a readmore on mobile. But this is where I would add it later. No one needs to read if they don't want to.)

January/February: (and some background on the last five years of my life cause.....well. it's important.)

As people knew, I got way into Invader Zim last summer. I spent most of my waking life working a dead end job at a grocery store. I lived a sad lonely life, going straight home to a single dark studio apartment. With not many material possessions outside of games, my laptop and my tablet to my name. Half of my material loves, such as home furnishings and books were still in boxes from when I moved in. In case I ever had to move again, or get some "big screenshot or copywriter" job in the city.

....

I lived in that city in the same dead end job and apartment for five years.

No friends. No social life. I often refused to make doctor appointments or attempt to establish myself in that city. I didn't even talk to anyone in my workplace.

Work. Go online. Go to sleep.

I lived like that for five years.

I thought it was good.

Even my therapist thought I was doing well.

When I really wasn't. My main character flaw I struggle with is motivation.

I can talk to someone about very detailed plans I have to fix a problem... But I tend to never follow through.

Just because I can describe in detail how to fix my personal problems, it doesn't mean I will do it.

(I have gotten better at this but it's a major struggle)

I might have been a Zombie during the day...

But by night I was pouring my soul into my AU and my analysis.

After being so thoughly ignored or overlooked by the Naruto fandom and the Undertale fandom, I felt like I had finally found my home and was settling into a community there.

I just loved that people loved what I had to say.

Especially my AU.

It's no secret that a lot of themes in my au revolve around found family, grief, and loss.......

Fatherhood, in particular.

What it means to be a father, how much do you need to try when you mess up, how willing should a child forgive their parent, especially those that have wronged you and how much of it is factually accurate and simply a self projection of what children want their parents to be and visa versa... What amount of forgiveness and change is nessasary...is it needed?

....

It's no secret that a lot of my AU is a giant coping mechanism for my Dad's death. Espessially the falling out and growing closer with a lot of my family members throughout the years following his death. (Most of the time I keep it ambiguous to how it relates to my personal life unless I include a readmore that states so outright. I feel my au can be enjoyed by a variety of people in the fandom who don't need to know me as a person or my life story.)

My Dad passed away in 2016 in February and my family still feels the aftershocks to this day.

It's part of the reason I moved to the city, alienated myself from my family and people that loved me and refused to experience life for five years.

My entire world was Zim, and I was okay.

March: When America finally realized and started to feel the effects of the pandemic....

A lot of people got scared.

Me included.

I didn't have any streaming services or access to the news. So I only heard accounts from my mom.

I didn't understand why the store was so dead quiet and empty for a few days, then it went into mass chaos and panic in the span of two days.

It felt like Retail black friday in the worst way. Everyone was packed like sardines. Everyone was yelling. The lines at the registers bled into the clothing department.

I was witness to customers shoving others for toilet paper, being rude to cashier's and just overall unpleasantness.

At the time, I didn't even fully grasp what the pandemic was, and I feel a lot of people at the time didn't either.

I ended up absentmindedly scratching my eyebrow in front of a customer and she screamed and villanised me for it. That they didn't want groceries touched by my "unclean hands"

I ended up breaking down into tears.

The customer behind me gave me a hug and told me I was doing a great job.

But the damage was done. It was the final straw, I couldn't stop crying and I was breaking apart.

Thankfully my Boss (the one who likes me) pulled me aside and asked what's wrong.

It was then that I quit. No notice. Same day. I had to get out of there.

I was planning to move to an apartment with my sister in the summer, but my Mom offered for me to move back in with her temperarily just so I can get out of the city and away from the pandemic.

So I did.

I got scared, broke my lease a month early and quit my job of five years that gave me nothing back.

He told me, "take care of yourself and your family, I won't keep you here, do what you need to do."

So I did.

April-June:

A very eventful few months.

My mom offered for me to live at her place, but for some reason she was acting like I would live there forever. That this wasn't a temporary arrangement, and that I didn't have an apartment set up already.

This was in large part to my sister, who had lived with my mom taking advantage of her for years.

Even though my sister and I were going to move in together, I was just never sure about it cause of how she never packed her stuff or made any effort to find a job.

My mom often acted like I was lazy and not searching and was treating me like... Well, an unruly teenager instead of a woman of 29 years. She acted like I was a failure for returning home when it was her idea in the first place.

I would have just been petrified in the city.

Like usual, I retreated to my au again.... And in the spring, something eventful happened.

In may, 8th 2020:

I was invited by @rissynicole to join an invader zim discord.

Now, I've never really used discord before. I always thought it's interface is too confusing.. and I'm a member of a few other iz discords and I usually don't follow them that closely.

Rissy assured me it was different cause some friends of thiers made it and it was smaller.

Before I knew it, I was sharing memes and getting to know everyone there.

It wasn't long after I invited my partner in IZ crimes, @paketdimensioncomic who was genuinely wary of iz servers due to a bad experience with the last one they were a part of.

But soon they were sharing memes and laughing with everyone else.

My eyes were starting to open and I was able to connect to fans of my work in an interpersonal way. And I was able to discover new artists and aus I never knew about.

I was also able to meet so many others of the community and invite them to the server myself.

The moo-ping 10 server kept me sane while I was living with my judgmental mother.

Not only that, the summer was very productive for my au.

Drawing was all I did, and it was a huge break from the job as a cashier I had.

Not only that, June came, and with it, me and Ceph's first collab fic:

A result of us just going back and forth in our DMs constantly about Professor Membrane and how he changed in ETF for the better and how much we adamantly stan "trying-to-be-a-good-dad-brane" and how much of his ETF development has to be implied off screen in order for the emotional resolution in the movie to matter.

The only reason I never professed my love for Membrane as a character in the fandom before the fic dropped was.... Well....

Membrane can be a decisive character in the fandom and I was so worried people would hate me if I did an analysis on him, simply because he's not the best parent in the world. (As an understatement)

Ceph and I really encouraged each other to scream our love for the science himbo loud and proud more frequently and so often.... I actually start to see less Membrane hate posts and breakdowns then their used to be.... I like to think it's a combination of Me and Ceph's influence, along with ETF and the Quarterly's painting Membrane in a slightly more nuanced light then he was previously.

I never wrote a collab fic before and it's such a rewarding and fun and unique experience that I don't think I'll ever have again. And I love working with Ceph on our fics so much.

So much so we did it again...

July-August:

I never thought I would be one of those people who writes NSFW IZ fic... But here I am.

The Brainbrane au started.... An au of my au where Membrane and the Computer fall in love and Membrane makes him a body.

This ship was based around the idea where we joked that Membrane and Zim's Computer would have funny interactions if they ever met, under the pretense Membrane thinks Computer is Zim's parent.

Our headcanons morphed and shifted until we just full blown started shipping them.

Just because Membrane and Zim's Computer have overall REALLY entertaining chemistry.

It's a character dynamic never seen in the show or comics (yet) and I imagine thier interactions to be nothing but entertaining banter.

The fic was also born from spite... Making fun of the troupes and cliches that we found personally destestible in some questionable zadr fics.

So an angry ace and a demi-bisexual collab on a porn and end up blessing the fandom with

Compapa headcanons,

Computer being recognized as a more common used fanon character,

The ship of Brainbrane.

The fandom having a crisis of "oh God, not only are we xenophiles we're technophiles too!!!" Or "why you gotta give Zim's Computer an ass"

More android Computer designs

It was an eventful summer.

In the midst of all this, I moved into my new place, got a new job, and I was able to see my friend (who is def my platonic straight soul mate) who lives in Indiana.

She came to visit, showed me how to decorate and how to take care of my body better! Things were looking up! It was great.

September-November:

My job was at a boat store. If was approaching the fall and my hours were being severely cut.

I was getting into a rut of depression again.

I thought things were changing but the same routine I was trying to escape from was the same thing coming back.

But instead of letting it take hold, I decided I was going to do something about it... I was gonna visit a museum and go with my sister. Just... variety stimulation.

Well that didn't happen.

I talked about this shortly in my au itself...but..

My sister had a complete mental breakdown.

She stopped taking her meds, went off the deep end and was in the hospital a total of five times throughout November.

A lot of it was acting out and the perfect storm of environmental factors that made her scream and act out so she would keep going back to the hospital.

It was traumatizing for me.

I just can't explain what it's like. For her and for me to be in that position.

I'm not telling the full story and a lot of bullshit things happened I won't share here.

She got diagnosed with bipolar one and my mom expected me to be a caretaker for her.

I threatened to disown my family and move away out of state.

It was just too much for me to handle.

So much I was a nervous wreck.

I tried to pick up a second job... Cause my sister was in the mental ward so frequently and couldn't pay the bills.

But I was fired within a week cause I was so stressed I couldn't retain the basic information they were training me for.

It was an office job.

My dream.

It could have been.

I was fired from something I really wanted.

I was only there for three days.

I could not retain any information.

I was a mess.

My sister was a trigger, my mom wanted me to live with her. I couldn't live like this.... I had to get out.

I had to get out.

December:

Remember my Indiana friend?

Well the first week of December is my birthday.

My 30th to be exact.

While I did pick up a seasonal position at Target (not my first pick)

I took the first week of December off so I could spend time with her. Cause she agreed, I needed a break from this crap.

Surviving 30 years is cause to celebrate and if I had to celebrate with my sister I would have cried.

I know there was a risk traveling out of state during a pandemic...

But I needed out, I needed a friend..

And I kinda wanted to look at the place since I was considering moving there.

My friend's mom was sick so she avoided me and her daughter and got us a hotel room.

It was fun! I got to swim in a salt water pool, we talked about Naruto, I showed her the iz and su art books I brought, also Computer and Membrane tea.

I also got to meet her other friends and get crunk. And her bf who is super nice and funny!

I had a super fun birthday....

Until her mom told my friend that her grandparents had covid and that was what she had. And my friend got sick within that same day.... As did I.

I owe so much to her family.

I was an entire state away...about a ten hour drive from home.... She let me stay at her house. "The covid house" we called it.

Cause everyone (except the father. He avoided everyone and booked a hotel immediately cus he was an ER doctor) had covid within a day.

I called in, the test results were positive and I had to stay with her family for ten days quarantine before I could work again.

Which would have been fine....

If my tumblr didn't log me out perminately of my old account. @dana-chan325 .... Which really sucked cause I had a constant headache and was too sick to engage with tumblr or much of the fandom. I didn't want to make a new account when my head was in a bad fog and I could barely breathe or smell.

It's not like I saw much of my friend either.... We all slept at different hours and she had more symptoms then I did.

It was just netflix, danganronpa v3 and cry.

I was miserable, but at the same time.... Not?

I really feel like God himself was the one who pulled me off from tumblr, and my living situation.

Maybe a whole extra week feeling like a bobblehead was what I needed.

It gave me some much needed clarity on my relationships with my mom and sis and friend.

Running away to Indiana was not the solution here.

Once I was better within ten days and no longer had a leave of absence, I drove home.

I am glad I fully recovered (but from how I understand it, my dear friend is still ill. I'm praying for her)

I might have gone to work a bit too soon, cause I had an asthma attack after trying to unload a single cart in the span of six hours.

My boss lectured that my speed was unacceptable, and even though I explained the covid situation and breathing problems many times, she threatened that I'd be fired if I'm that slow again.

Que the next few days of work where they put me on register.

Instantly I was sent into a panic remembering the last time I was on the register and how that panic attack caused me to quit.

I even asked if I could go back to stocking, since my breathing had improved. My boss assured me that I was put on the register cause they needed help and nothing to do with my covid thing.

Then as December concluded and the new year began, my boss said that this was the last shift for me cause my position was seasonal and they were letting a lot of people go.

I then asked why I was on the schedule for Sunday, and he told me to ignore it and I'm free to reapply for full-time.

I mean.... They can act smart about it...

But putting your general merchandise stocker onto register after she had an asthma attack and missed working the first two weeks of December due to covid.....

Not a good look.

So once again, I'm jobless once more.

Will probably continue to live with my sister for awhile.

But I do not feel as if it's a bad thing....

I met so many good people this year....

My friend's family even gave me 500 usd to cover my rent since I couldn't work for a majority of December.

I've seen evil and good from humanity this year. I've seen acts of god, good friends and what my real family means to me as well as friends I consider family.

This year really made me look back at the person in the mirror and say,

"I deserve better."

And actually worked for it this time.

Oh and after Christmas I got a horrible yeast infection that burns over most of my body currently.

Very accurate doodle to the pain I'm in right now.

(seriously my body is a fungus.)

But hey, good news, I respected myself enough to go to the doctor about it!!

So that's progress.

I really hope 2021 holds good things for me.

Thank you to the mooping 10 server for always being there and keeping me sane,

Thank you tumblr for liking my au and everything.

AND A SUPER SPECIAL THANK YOU TO @evartandadam and her family for housing me and my dumb diseased ass. Everyone, she is an angel and I can't express how much she means to me. Please check out her art and buy her stuff on redbubble.

Anyways... Byebye 2020.

I look forward to what I can accomplish for myself this year.

[chilling-seavey]

hi hi hi im back at it again with the blurbs - ABM universe: Dani and Flora taking their child/children for their ~lovely~ vaccines that they need to take as a child.

Well over due on my part but an amazing idea as usual hehe

Clementine

Florence did not want to take her daughter for her vaccines by herself – not wanting to have to deal with the heartbreaking sound of the baby’s cries - so the only logical solution was to call in emotional support. Daniel was more than happy to come along for the adventure, joining them on the subway ride and pushing the stroller into the doctor’s office. Two-month-old Clementine was wide awake, staring up at Daniel from the stroller with big blue eyes and sucking softly on her pacifier as she took in the surroundings above her while Florence checked them in at the nurse’s desk.

“Clemmie.” Daniel cooed down to the baby to bring her attention back to him. “Hi, cutie.”

She kicked her legs excitedly at his voice and he smiled at her.

The nurse led them right into one of the patient rooms and got them settled to wait for the doctor and Florence unbuckled her baby from the stroller and lifted her out. Clementine rested easily against her shoulder, those big blue eyes still scanning everything in the new room under the comforting hand of her mother.

Daniel was scanning the decals on the wall of Winnie the Pooh characters and little balloons and honey pots. He turned back to Florence who was swaying slightly with her baby cuddled against her. She was frowning.

“Are you nervous?” Daniel asked.

Florence nodded, turning a little to pepper gentle kisses to her daughter’s head. Daniel cracked a small smile to his best friend as he hopped up onto the examination table.

“It’s better to get a vaccination than a scary disease.” he said.

“Don’t even joke.” Florence replied quietly. “They had her out of the room for the ones when she was born so I’ve never had to see them.”

“Do you want me to hold her for you when she gets them?”

“Yes please.” Florence nodded.

When the doctor arrived, they shared updates on Clementine’s development and Daniel sat quietly in the chair in the corner while Florence and the doctor spoke about the baby. Clementine was laid out on the examination table with Florence’s protective hand on her stomach as the doctor had the baby striped down to give her a full check-up. He made sure she was smiling fine, following his finger when he moved it, and lifting her head as well as other aspects of her growth, asking Florence questions about her sleeping and eating and everything in between.

Soon, it was time for the vaccinations and Florence looked over to Daniel with panic in her eyes. He jumped up right away and came over, leaning over the wriggling baby on the examination table and scooped her right up. Florence took a nervous step back as she watched the doctor prepare the shots.

“We’re going to be so good, aren’t we, Clemmie?” Daniel cooed softly as he sat back down in the chair he was in before.

The doctor instructed him on how to hold her to keep her from squirming – wrapping his arm around her body and holding her hands still with her legs tucked securely between his thighs. Daniel got nervous holding the tiny baby so restrained but the doctor said he was doing it perfectly and took a cleansing wipe to Clementine’s thigh. Florence stood across the small room, biting anxiously at her fingernail as she watched.

Clementine was a generally quiet baby but the first shot had her wailing, trying to wiggle out of Daniel’s arms and Florence took a shaky inhale.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Daniel soothed the baby nervously, “Dani’s right here, Clemmie. You’re such a good girl.”

She needed five vaccines for her two-month appointment and each one had the poor baby crying louder but the doctor worked quickly to get through with it. Florence even shed a few tears herself as seeing her baby in pain and crying was never easy. When the vaccines were finished, Daniel got up to pass over the baby to Florence and Clementine curled right into her. He rubbed his hand over the baby’s bare back, trying to keep his own struggling emotions at bay.

Florence held her close and glanced up at Daniel, mouthing a grateful, “Thank you.”

Penelope

A six-months-old, little Penelope was a shy little wonder. Daniel was more than comfortable with fatherhood duties since he had done plenty in the previous year with Clementine so he wasn’t phased when he had to take Penelope for her next dose of shots on his own. It had been a while since he had visited the pediatrician since his relationship with Florence was on rocky ground for a while but things were perfectly smoothed over – she was now his girlfriend ­– and he was back to his usual job of protector…to all three of them now.

Daniel headed into the doctor’s office and up to the nurse’s desk, six-month-old Penelope half asleep in the stroller and he rolled it back and forth gently to lull her farther into sleep as he checked in. She snoozed peacefully as they waited to be called into one of the back rooms and Daniel scrolled through his phone with his other hand claimed by the sleeping baby. She loved to hold his finger while she slept.

Finally, Penelope’s name was called and Daniel gently pulled his finger from her hand to push the stroller down the hall and into the room the nurse directed him to. Daniel unbuckled the baby and gently lifted her from the stroller, making her whine lightly as she was moved.

“I know, I know.” Daniel shushed her sweetly, tucking her head against his shoulder as he rocked her slightly to keep her relaxed and she quieted down easily. “That’s my good girl.”

There was nothing Daniel loved more than talking about his daughters and the doctor was no exception of an audience – and her bowel movements was no exception of a topic either it seemed. Just parenthood things, right? When it was time to check her over, Daniel laid her down on the examination table and helped strip her from her clothes, beaming with pride as she passed the tests that the doctor did to make sure she was developing well.

“Is she sitting up on her own yet?”

Daniel’s face fell, “Is she supposed to?”

“Not necessarily, but soon, hopefully. Keep practicing with her.”

Daniel nodded, keeping a secure hand on the sleepy baby’s stomach as she was measured and then weighed. Then it was vaccination time and Daniel carefully lifted Penelope up to sit down with her tucked in his arms while the doctor got the shots ready.

She blinked sleepily up at him with big blue eyes and reached her hand up to rest her palm against his chest as she mewled uncomfortably. Being left in only a diaper in February wasn’t anyone’s first choice of comfort.

“You going to be a good girl for the doctor?” Daniel whispered down to her, tracing the curve of her chubby cheek and her wiggling arms as they waited, but he couldn’t ignore his own anxiety that was bubbling up inside him. “Aren’t you, bug? Going to be a good girl for Dada too.”

The doctor crouched down in front of them and Penelope whined softly, tugging at Daniel’s shirt as he held her legs and her arms down so the doctor could work.

“You’re okay.” Daniel said softly, rubbing his thumb over her arm. “Dada’s right here.”

The needle was barely in her thigh and she was already screaming, trying to wiggle right out of Daniel’s secure grasp.

“Okay, bug, it’s okay.” Daniel tried to assure her, tears pricking his eyes as he held his baby down while she wailed. Five more vaccines were delivered and once they were finished, Penelope herself and Daniel’s shirt were soaked in baby tears and Daniel was sure his ears were ringing with how loud the six-month-old could scream.

The doctor offered him a reassuring smile and Daniel thanked him flatly as he reached into the stroller and pulled out the baby blanket to wrap around the naked baby. Daniel shushed her gently as he cuddled her right up to his chest and he shut his eyes tightly as he held her.

“Want a lollipop?”

Daniel looked up at the doctor and he was holding out a purple lollipop with an understanding smile.

“For…me?” Daniel asked.

“It’s harder for the parents than it is for the kids…and I can’t offer you alcohol.” the doctor chuckled.

Daniel cracked a smile and took the lollipop, “Thanks.”

Lucy

For the first four years of Lucy’s life, she spent the days at home with just her and her mother while her sisters were at school and her father was at work. Florence and Lucy did have a strong bond because of this but Lucy’s attachment to her father was unmoveable. To get the toddler out of the house without much trouble, Florence never told her where they were going as she knew she would have a hell of a time calming down her dramatic two-year-old if she knew they were going to the doctors. What Florence wouldn’t give to have Daniel leave work just to take their youngest for her vaccinations. This was her least favourite part of parenthood, truly.

Lucy was sat in the stroller as they took the subway towards the office and down the sunny sidewalk and into the building. The moment Lucy recognised where she was, she was trying to wiggle out of the stroller, whining behind her pacifier and tugging at the straps that held her sitting.

Florence checked them in at the nurses desk and they were directed to the waiting room for a bit. She unbuckled the toddler carefully and set her on the ground, “Go play for a bit, okay?”

Florence ushered her towards the blocks that were set up in the play corner of the pediatrician’s waiting room but Lucy couldn’t focus on playing in her current state. When her name was called, Lucy went running back to her mother and threw her little arms around her legs and tried to hide.

“Come on, sweet girl.” Florence took her hand and led her after the nurse to the patient room, pulling the empty stroller behind her.

Lucy had to nearly be dragged down the hallway and into the room and when the nurse closed the door behind them, Lucy went running to try and open the handle. Florence scooped her up onto her hip and tried to distract her by pointing out the fun little decals on the walls but Lucy was not having it.

“Dada!” she called.

“Dada’s working but Mama’s got you.” Florence promised, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek. “We can tell Dada how brave you were later, right?”

“Noo!” Lucy tried to wiggle out of her arms.

Lucy certainly put up a fight with the doctor during the check-up but wasn’t too terrible and was more than ready to go home when he walked back over to the small counter in the corner of the room.

“Home, Mama.” Lucy asked sweetly, reaching her hand up to her mother. She made little grabby hands up at her. “Please, home, Mama.”

“Not yet, sunshine.” Florence picked her up and sat her on her lap on the chair. “We just have to get a few little needles first, just small ones.”

Lucy’s eyes went as wide as saucers as if she was being tortured evilly and she squirmed violently in her mother’s arms to be let go. Florence tried to grab her arms and legs to hold her secure but she was a wiggling mess.

“Dada!” Lucy shrieked as loud as she possibly could. “Noo!”

“Mama’s got you.” Florence tried to soothe her, “We’ll go get ice cream after, okay?”

Lucy was not ready to be bribed and she just flailed harder, “Daddy!”

“Come on, Lucy Lu. Be a good girl now.” Florence said as gently as she could, trying to ignore the glances from the poor doctor who was just trying to do his job.

Lucy was screaming and nothing had even happened yet, tears pouring down her cheeks as she thrashed in Florence’s arms, calling for Dada as if somehow he might hear her all the way at work. When a good five minutes passed and Lucy was still putting up a good fight no matter how much both Florence and the doctor tried to intervene, the young mother had to call in emergency backup.

She was sat back in the waiting room with a crying two-year-old on her lap, vaccines put on hold until the kid could calm down, and Florence felt like nothing but a failure. Lucy sucked on her pacifier as she cuddled against her mother’s chest, cheeks pink and eyes swollen from her crying fit.

Finally, the doctors office door opened again and Daniel stepped inside quickly. Florence sighed with relief at the sight of him and Lucy perked up right away, instantly holding her arms up to him with little grabby hands.

“Hey, you two.” Daniel said softly, bending down to kiss his tired wife and then scoop up the toddler into his arms. Lucy nuzzled right into his neck with her arms wrapped right around his shoulders. “What’s with you not being a good girl for Mama?” Daniel asked her quietly, pressing his fingers into her side to make her giggle a little. “Had to take an early lunch break for you, Princess.”

“She’s a princess alright.” Florence mumbled, staring up at the two of them in front of her.

Daniel took sniffling Lucy on a gentle stroll around the waiting room, humming to her softly to help calm her down as they waited for the doctor to call them back in to finish the appointment, his hand rubbing soothing stripes over her back as she clung onto him. Soon, they were back in the patient room and Daniel had Lucy sat on his lap for her needles and she simply clung right onto him and buried her face in his chest while the doctor gave her the vaccines. She cried – loudly, still – but her much better obedience with Daniel had Florence rolling her eyes across the room.

When the appointment was over and Lucy was happily sucking on a lollipop in Daniel’s arms, her tear streaked cheek resting against his shoulder, the three of them headed outside. Florence was quiet.

“Look at me.” Daniel said softly, reaching out with the arm that wasn’t holding his youngest to stroke his wife’s cheek. She glanced at him flatly. He assured her woes with a quiet, “Not your fault.”

“I’d be so freaking lost without you, it makes me mad sometimes.” Florence sighed.

Daniel smiled and slid his arm around her waist to pull her close and he pressed a kiss to her lips, “I know. You always need to hold my hand when you get needles too.”

[wrightiverse]

Last batch of commentary for the last chapter of Crowd

Glenn looks over to see how Nick's doing, and the kid gives him a beaming grin and a thumbs up. Glenn’s heart thumps almost painfully in his chest as he grins back.

But I won't feel blue / Like I always do / 'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you.

The “you” that was somewhere in the Crowd had to be Nick. As much as I like Robin, Nick is still the most important person in Glenn’s life, and affirming their bond was the right note to end on.

* * * * *

See, Glenn's cautiously adjusting to the idea that Nick isn’t going to kick Glenn out of his life on his 18th birthday. He definitely doesn’t know a lot of guys who get along with their fathers, but even his oblivious ass has noticed that Connor’s over at the loft every few weeks, crashing on the bunk beds that he and Nick insisted were necessary. Hell, Robin called his own parents back in Boston this morning to proudly tell them about Glenn’s show.

That's what Glenn did to his own dad, and of course that's what he's afraid of with Nick. You can't be what you don't see, and unfortunately I don't think Glenn knows a lot of guys who have a good relationship with their fathers. I certainly couldn’t come up with a third example from the characters in the dndads universe.

* * * * *

Choosing to be happy is a high-stakes bet, but Glenn's decided to let it ride. Giving up just doesn't hold the same appeal that it used to. He's going to stay in the game, trust his luck, and see what the cards have in store for him.

One of the changes in Glenn over these stories is him grasping that much of the stuff in his life, good and bad, was due to chance. He didn't bring the bad times on himself by being a bad person, and the good things in his life now aren't because he's turned it all around. Refusing to roll the dice didn't actually protect him the way he hoped it would, so he's getting back in the game. We threw it in kinda casually at the end of a silly part of the story, but it's more or less the thesis statement: Life’s still not fair, but occasionally, with the right people around... it’s good.

* * * * *

Maybe he'll get to be around to watch Nick grow up. Maybe he’ll actually find a gray hair one day, and it won’t be the end of the world.

Glenn’s vigilance about looking youthful, particularly with regard to whether his hair is going gray, has been a running bit since way back in Name. In contrast, they're both very comfortable with Robin looking his age, to the point where Glenn has a hard time even accepting that Robin looked different when he was a young man. It comes up a couple of times, often relative to Glenn's parents. Robin asks Glenn when Bill went gray, and Glenn doesn't know (and gets stressed out at the question). Robin realizes when he meets Adele that she does her grays exactly the way that he thinks would look good on Glenn. I have to imagine he never brought that particular suggestion up again, but the fact that he found out via meeting Adele and not via Glenn saying "no, that's what my mother does and I hate it" is not a great sign. Anyway, all those moments take on a different cast in light of Glenn's difficulty with making decisions on behalf of his future self. As with the "fatherhood extends past the point when your kid turns 18" revelation, some of it just comes down to him being somebody who is fairly isolated and lacks role models. This is where their often-alluded-to age gap comes in really handy: Robin and Connor can provide at least one model of a functional father-son relationship that’s a few years along from where Glenn and Nick are. That’s not the only thing Glenn needs to help him out, but it can’t hurt.

Glenn tends to self-isolate, and from my perspective, essentially none of his problems are solvable in isolation at all. This is a guy whose best friend is his kid and most of his adult interaction is with his bandmates, with whom he has a bad relationship in both this and canon. Canon Glenn never tries to use his phone to talk to anybody but Nick, IIRC. His dad is dead. His wife is dead. He never mentions any other partner, a friend, even an ex or a neighbor. He seems to vaguely know a couple of the other dads from school stuff, but not well. Maybe he has an entire support network that got mentioned after I stopped listening, but he always seemed like a really lonely guy to me in eps 1-30 or so. It made his failings make a lot of sense - he has no support and he has no points of comparison, so he just sort of freestyles it and gauges his success based on whether Nick seems happy or not. That’s not a sustainable or healthy approach, but every other one would probably require a) effort and b) external support, so... nope.

The future isn't the only time that Glenn is bad with. He also has major parts of the past blocked off, and most of the time when he thinks about something in the past, it's the result of a trigger, rather than a choice. There are definitely things in his past where it's understandable that he doesn't want to linger, but it means he’s left some good stuff behind, as well. Part of him figuring out how to break out of his patterns is developing the ability to envision both the future and the past. That's why it's so good to see him reconnecting with the first music he played, and why they finally have some pictures of Morgan up. He is making peace with the past, he is understanding that the bad stuff that happened to him was the result of random happenstance (rather than deliberate punishment for him being a bad person), and it enables him (as do some of the other things discussed above) to contemplate the premise that tomorrow might not necessarily be worse than today and the future might be worth showing up to, gray hair or no.

*****

Maybe he’ll become old and boring. Maybe he deserves to. What Glenn can say for certain is that in this moment, he's happy, and he's lucky, and he's loved.

It's tough to figure out where to end a slice-of-life story. In this case it made a lot of sense to bring it full circle with Glenn performing on his own. He opens Crowd rehearsing miserably and he spends a lot of the subsequent story untangling the mess that's become of the band and his relationship to music. I honestly don't remember why we decided Glenn's canon exit from the GC3 didn't apply, since it was a decision we made back when we actually were trying somewhat to adhere to canon, but I'm glad we did because it gave us the opportunity to follow this out and explore the different nuances of it.

I don’t know if this happens to anyone else, but I am always hugely tempted to end dndads fics with some riff on the “it’ll be all right” thing. In this case, I wanted to avoid it not just because it felt hacky but because it was a contradiction to everything we’ve been saying. There are no happy endings. I can’t promise that everything is going to be all right for Glenn, but I can promise that in this moment, in this story, in this universe, he’s happy and loved. I hope that felt earned and that you enjoyed getting there with us.

[russian-romanova]

barefoot

title: barefoot 

pairing: dad!tony stark x reader

word count: 4.7k

warnings: mentions of cancer, sketchy timelines, major + minor character death, angst, spoilers for the whole mcu, me not knowing what twelve-year-olds do in school nowadays

notes: this is based on ‘forest fire’ by brighton. i literally had the original idea for this over a year ago and it’s so fucking cheesy. 

summary: tony has never been the best father, he knows that, but he sure as hell spent these years trying to raise you right. it took you years to realize how much he really meant to you, and it seems a realization that comes too late. 

+   +   +

 2 0 0 9

“What’s it like?” 

At your words, your dad looked up. The two of you had been hiking as part of his Iron Man work out in some trails. You had been only nine when your dad became Iron Man, but you had been all for it. It was the coolest thing to you, and Tony had a hunch that you would have been excited even if he wasn’t Iron Man. You were just the sweetest daughter he could have ever asked for, he was sure of it. 

Tony didn’t stop walking before responding, “What’s what like, bean?” 

“Being Iron Man.” You answered casually. “A superhero.” 

Now Tony stopped walking. He was behind you in some trail in a small forest. The hike had actually been your idea. He had been avidly adding assorted workouts to his day-to-day schedule, which was just another side effect of being Iron Man. As an eleven-year-old, you were still the definition of codependent. Tony hadn’t expected anything else, really, but he hadn’t expected juggling Stark Industries and Iron Man and fatherhood to be so difficult. 

You were two when you met Tony. He and your mom had a very quick thing after some party and never planned on talking to each other again. However, what had been planned as a ‘let’s-bang-and-never-think-about-this-again’ became ‘holy-shit-I’m-pregnant.’ After a few months of going back and forth, your future mother decided not to tell Tony. It was no secret that he probably wasn’t the best parental figure, and it was hard for you to understand those little things. 

It was all working out. She had you smoothly, and you grew up a shining success. She hated to admit it, but she could see some of Tony in there too. 

Currently, you had noticed your dad stopped walking and paused yourself, turning around to look at him. He was looking down at you, thinking. You were so smart, and his constant confirmation of this fact was the multitude of questions you seemed to ask. 

“It’s different,” He answered cautiously. “But super cool, you know?” 

“Yeah,” You squeaked out, looking up at your father. “I know.” 

“I get to fly around, which is really-” Tony paused, looking for the words to describe the feeling of flight to a child. He chuckled for a moment before responding, “It’s freeing. Like running really fast but also swinging super high.” 

You nodded slowly, processing the comparison that your father had given you. Your mind worked quickly, and if he squinted Tony was positive he could have seen gears moving just beyond your eyes. You were his daughter, there was no doubt about it. 

Really, the parts of himself were the first thing Tony saw of you. 

Your mom and you had arrived at his doorstep and he instantly knew who you must have been. It was unmistakable, really. You had the same face shape, the same slope of your nose, the same curious sparkle in your eyes. Your chubby hands held onto your mom’s fingers the way one might hold onto a rope or edge of rock — without thinking of anything but the unknown fear of letting go. 

“Hello Tony,” Your mother hadn’t been in the best of moods, but she kept up the facade for you, even in front of Tony. “This is Y/N.” She was straight to the point; she always had been. Tony found a smile tug habitually at his mouth. 

“Hi, Y/N.” She squatted down and gave you a little wave. Your hands had moved from your mother’s fingers to her leg, arms clinging to whatever bits of denim you could get from the tight grip of her jeans. Your eyes stared back at him, and he was surprised at how long someone who seemed so shy held his eye contact. “Um, is she-” Tony trailed off, looking towards your mother. 

“Yes.” She looked away from you for a moment, only to look at Tony with eyes that were, for the first time during the meeting, filled with the same fear of the unknown as yours were. “We need to talk.”

It went without saying, really. Of course, they needed to talk, she had shown up at his door — he didn’t even question how she had gotten all the way to the front door without him knowing — with a small child that was most definitely his. 

“I wanted her to meet you.” Your mother spoke softly, picking you up as she walked in after him. “And you can, definitely.  You should, Tony.” She added. It was reasonable for her to assume he would be uninterested in your existence, but he was the opposite. Childbirth and the internal formation of children had always been a secret fascination of his as the one thing his science couldn’t recreate or even do, not really. Even though he was a genius, Tony Stark wasn’t a woman. 

“Yeah,” He breathed out his response. He wasn’t really listening to her, but the whole of his mind was focused on you. 

Your mom looked at Tony, smiling a little. “Is there somewhere she can be that’s somewhat child safe? So we can talk alone.” 

Tony nodded, breaking eye contact with you to look around. “Yeah, I can have my assistant Pepper look after her for a while.” You watched him as he yelled out the word that you recognized to be a seasoning, looking in constant fascination as a child does. Slowly, you let your eyes look away from the man in front of you to look at your mother. She was looking at the man with a look she used often on you, and you silently wondered if your mom was here to put this man in a time out or give him a scolding. 

At once, a new face entered the scene. She had long hair which was tied back and up in a ponytail, and you looked now to her. She seemed confused, looking from your mom to you to the man. 

“Ms. Potts,” Tony began, holding a hand out to gesture towards your mom and you. “This is Mira and Y/N.” 

“Hello,” Your mother nodded politely, her hands too full to offer one to shake.

Pepper turned towards Tony, squinting a little as she whispered words of confusion. The two spoke in whispers they thought she couldn’t hear as your mother’s eyes fell upon you. 

“Mommy, I’m hungry.” Your small voice complained in words likely only your mother could understand. 

She glanced down at you pitifully. “Oh, honey. I don’t have any snacks.”

“We have plenty of food,” Pepper spoke up, having moved on from her discussion from Tony. “I can take her if the two of you need some time alone.”

Your mother nodded, pausing to explain the situation to you. You were shy, and looked towards the floor, choosing to steal glances of Pepper through your eyelashes rather than direct contact. 

“She’s so shy, I’m sorry.” Your mother gave an apology accompanies by a breathy laugh. That was one thing, Tony noted as he watched the situation unfold with slight amusement, you did not get from him. “Here, do you want to just take her? I promise she’ll warm up to you.” 

Pepper smiled warmly as a confirmation, walking closer to grasp you out of your mother’s arms. You didn’t fuss, simply looking at your mother for as long as you could before silently turning your head up to Pepper as you left the room. 

Tony and your mother stood in silence for a moment, before Tony spoke up. “Would you like to sit down?”



“Yes, thank you.” Your mother followed Tony to a set of armchairs where they took seats across from each other. 

“She’s really cute,” Tony said, unsure of what else to say. And it was true. Tony had already fallen for the two-year-old girl who hadn’t said but half-a-dozen words, none of which were directed to him. 

“I know.” Your mother laughed a little, looking down as she crossed her legs. She was a little thinner than Tony had remembered. He tilted his head, trying to read her. 

“You look good,” He added, pushed a little for confirmation that something was different. 

“I have cancer, Tony.”

Tony froze at the sudden words. Cancer. How had he been so dumb? He hadn’t even seen your mother in three years, but he instantly felt heartbroken. He had liked her a lot, even if it had been for such a short amount of time. 

His eyes drifted once again to her frame, the way her long grey shirt seemed too big for her body. Her long arms were wrapped around her stomach in a self-comforting motion, and Tony felt this sudden and overwhelming need to give her a hug. 

“Nothing treatment wise is working, so far. I wanted to tell you because Y/N has nowhere else to go. It’s a horrible burden to suddenly place on you, but I think you need to know. To be there and prepared in case…” She trailed off. Tony nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. 

“I’m so sorry, Mira.” He looked at her.  

Your mom shook her head. “Don’t give me that look. And don’t apologize, Tony. It’s not your fault.”

He looked down for a moment before letting his eyes drift up to the door that you played behind. “Does she know?”

“Y/N? No. Not yet.” Your mom shook her head as she followed his gaze. “I’m sorry, this is a lot for you, isn’t it? I gave you a lot at once.”



“No, no.” Tony lied, shaking his head a little. “I will try my best, I swear. You’re gonna be okay, Mira, but if anything happens to you-” Tony searched for the words. “You can trust me.”



She nodded, forcing the lump in her throat down as she looked at Tony through watery eyes. “I know.”

Thinking of Mira’s face in so much detail while looking at your face, a little red from the hike and eyebrows furrowed as you listened to his answer, he realized that every bit of your face that he didn’t see in the mirror, he could see in your mother’s face. 

“Can I fly someday?” You looked up at him, swinging your arms back and forth. Tony smiled at you, walking closer to ruffle your hair before wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“You can do anything you want. C’mon, kid.” 

2 0 1 2 

Tony Stark looked down at the small device that was essentially warning him of his death. He knew his health had been declining, but between the Expo, Stark Industries, being Iron Man, and being the father of a stubborn twelve-year-old, his own well being had really been the least of his problems. 

It was a little scary, sure, but he found it was easier to ignore and push it to the back of his mind. That’s how the Starks seemed to work the best, after all. Howard had been that way, and Tony hated it but he saw that in himself every struggle. He hoped it wouldn’t move to you either.

You were twelve and happy often, with friends and family that loved you, and the ignorance that adults still lent you. He couldn’t tell you that he was sick and probably close to dying, because he couldn’t let it come to that. God, there were some days he felt like giving up, just staying in bed or running away to Hawaii by himself and never coming back. But then you would come home from school with some rambling story about your day at school, other students’ antics fresh in your mind. You would get this excentric look in your eyes as you spoke, inspired and excited. Those were the times Tony thought you would become an author, spinner of words.

Or else he would have a particularity harsh day, only for you to send him some crazy text that made sense only to the two of you, filled with unnecessary emojis and too many adjectives. 

Your face or your words would return him back to life then, and he would feel okay again. He had done this for you for almost ten years now, and there was no reason to give up now. It was hard, yes, but he would fight this and win just as he had fought and won Obadiah, and just as he had seemingly fought and won Whiplash. He would do it because he had a little girl to return to at the end of the day and because he couldn’t let himself forget that.

“Hey Dad, how do you find the slope of a line?” Your voice met him as he walked into the kitchen, the small device tucked away safely. You were bent over the kitchen table, eyes not leaving your red notebook you had laid out for math. The eraser of your pencil bobbed up and down as you tapped out a steady rhythm on your paper. Maybe you could be a musician, Tony thought for a moment.

“Uh, rise over run.” He pulled open the fridge door. 

There was silence from you for a moment. “In English?” 

“Do you have two points? On your graph?” 

He could practically hear you searching. “Yeah. This one is at three and two and this one is at six and three.”

“Okay, so you’re gonna subtract the first y value from the second y value-”

“Three from two.”

“Right,” Tony found the yogurt he was looking for in the fridge and pulled it out before walking over to you. “That’s rise. You do the same with the x values for the bottom and cancel out the negative signs.” 

“So…” You paused, catching up in your work. “Three.” It wasn’t a question, the answer came with a Stark’s confidence. 

Tony nodded. “Regular genius.” 

“Thank you, dad.” You smiled at him teasingly. The happy look on your face seemed to make the pocketed device weigh twice as much as it had. 

Tony forced a cheery smile in response. “Anytime, kiddo.” 

2 0 1 8

The compound had been quiet for what was close to a month.

Thanos had happened, and it had been so painful. A total loss, devastating and monumental. You had been in Wakanda when it happened, left behind by your dad as he flew after young Peter Parker in an attempt to save him. Bruce had called Steve Rogers and the group of you had slinked off to Wakanda. 

There was more to it than that, but details bled together and none of them really mattered at this point. You had lost to Thanos. He had succeeded in his goal of finding the six infinity stones -- not that you really understood what those were either, you just went along with it -- and had snapped. The simple action had made 50% of the universe’s population disappear, plenty of them before your eyes. You were lucky in many ways -- your oldest friends seemed alright and you survived it all. The bad news rung deep and more clear than the happy, however. Your father had not returned, and all of the Avengers were left to believe he was dead. 

No transmissions, no news. Nothing from space no matter how hard you tried. If he hadn’t vanished in the snap, your dad must have died some other way up there. You were alone, and it was too hard to face as a truth. 

You had been lying awake in bed when a noise began outside, something loud and obnoxious. For a moment, you thought it would pass by and fade out again, but it only seemed to get louder -- and brighter. 

“Hey, Y/N, I think you’re gonna want to see this.” Rhodey knocked on your door, his voice coming out rushed.

You groaned. “Rhodey, I just wanna sleep.” 

“Y/N,” The man whom you thought of as your uncle paused, letting silence fill the air as he searched for words. “It’s your dad’s ship.” 

You were barefoot in the rush to get outside.

 You were faster than Rhodey, who let you pass him in your mad rush to meet the other Avengers outside. The wind was pressing against your back, raging as if it was a hurricane. “Oh my god,” Your breathy words were lost in the wind. “It’s Dad.” You needed no confirmation. It took a moment before he finally came into your view, but your heart shattered the moment you saw him. He looked horrible. 

“Dad!” Your voice came out in more of a relieved scream than a shout, and you stumbled towards him. 

He looked up as best as he could. “Hey, kid. You get taller?” 

The words were so much like your dad, yet you didn’t care about what he said in the least. You were just so overwhelmingly happy to see him that words seemed pointless and trivial. Still worried this might be a dream, you crashed into Tony with a hug. Steve, who had been helping Tony stand, gave you the warning to be careful. None of this mattered, not anymore. You gripped the clothing on your dad’s back, tears already bubbling out. “We thought you were dead, dad. I thought you were dead.” 

2 0 1 4 

Your dad shot up in bed, his ears perked up naturally as he listened for what awoke him. 

A blood-curling scream — your scream, he quickly would realize — echoed through the walls and bounced to his room. He didn’t even have time to think as he threw off the covers, his feet hitting the cold wood of his bedroom floor. “Y/N!” Your name escaped his lips as his hands hit the door frame, tired fingers making wild grabs for the doorknob, remembering mostly from memory as his eyes were making slow progress adjusting. 

Your scream continued, and Tony ran faster than he could brake as he skidded towards your room. He hadn’t shouted your name again, but once his mind had cleared he had figured out what was going on. 

The doorknob to your room was cold as Tony grabbed it, slowing down to calm his own breathing as he walked in, his eyes landing on you. His speed quickened again, walking over to you and placing his hands on your shoulders. It wasn’t even something he really had to think about anymore, and your name came out of his mouth like he had to help you like this every night. 

It took a few seconds, but your eyes finally shot open. There was the momentary panic of waking up, not knowing where you are or who’s with you, but it quickly faded into familiarity as your dad rubbed a hand on your arm. You were okay because he said it; you were awake because he told you so. 

After a moment of silence to steady your breathing, Tony asked, “What was it? The usual?” His words were hushed in a tone of voice he reserved only for you. 
You nodded slightly, causing your dad to pull you closer. “Well then, I guess that calls for the usual treatment.” 

To anyone else, Tony was not a touchy-feely kind of guy. He gave handshakes at most, and one would wonder if he hugged his family or simply high-fived them. The answer: Tony Stark gave the best hugs in the universe. 

You were lucky he was your dad, you realized this as he held you after every one of these nightmares. He loved you, and he cared so deeply for you that sometimes nothing else mattered. These nightmares were the worst things to happen to you then, but somehow your dad made them so much better. Even if he wasn’t Iron Man, he would have been a superhero to you.

2 0 2 3

You had lost. Jesus Christ, everyone else around you was saying they won, and that he won it for them, but you didn’t believe them. Thanos was gone, yes. The rest of the Avengers had returned and for the most part, everyone was okay. You should have been happy, at least a little relieved. 

Tony Stark was dead, so how could you feel as though you won? Your father, the one person you felt you could always relate with was dead. He had died in that goddamn Iron Man suit that you had spent years admiring, and he had spent years out of. When you had discovered that Pepper was pregnant five years prior, your dad had come up to you and sworn that he would never step foot in that Iron Man costume again, that he wanted you to lock it with a code you kept secret so he couldn’t get into it. 

Of course, when the time had come you had bent to his will and given up the code. There was hope for the first time in years, and it was a foreign feeling that delighted you. The possibility that you could keep all you had now and somehow fix what had been broken in the past made you drunk with the hope, giddy with the idea of joy. 

And you had been close, so close. Natasha hadn’t returned in the search for the soul stone, but then you saw it as a sacrifice that needed to happen. It crushed you and you cried for three hours straight, yes, but at the end of the day you saw how someone needed to do it, and Natasha was too nice to let anyone else even think about it. But there was no way to rationalize the loss of your dad.

The funeral had been busy. He was respected and loved, Steve had read off of a prepared speech, and the words echoed through the crowd. There were faces you saw every day, faces you hadn’t seen in years, and a few people you hadn’t even met before. That was so wonderful, you would realize years later, but at the time it seemed nothing could be wonderful at all.

The dock was empty by now. People had lingered for a while, some longer than others, but everyone went back in the house sooner or later, to reminisce or calm down. Everyone but you. 

You squatted down at the edge of the dock, carefully of your tight dress and black heels. Your hands couldn’t quite reach the water from the edge of the dock, and you were reminded of the times your dad would sit you on one of his workbenches and would have to help you down. You felt so small and helpless all over again and just needed someone to help you down. With one hand dangling towards the water, you used your other one to cover the noises coming out of your mouth at the thoughts. 

“I’m so lost, Dad,” you admitted in a choked sob. “I’m so lost without you.” 

You bent your chin towards your neck in an attempt to hide your tears. From who, you weren’t sure. Perhaps you felt, somewhere deep down, that the piece of your dad that was floating away was watching you as your father would have, and you didn’t want to feel small in front of him. You had never been worried about that, but you were different now. Even if your dad had gotten out okay, you would have been different. Almost losing him the first time had made you sadder, those five years had made you more mature, and the final battle against Thanos has made you harder.

Maybe, you realized, crying meant he was really gone and you would rather give up than admit that he wasn’t ever coming back. 

2 0 1 6

You were thirteen when you saw your dad the most vulnerable he had ever been. 

It wasn’t unusual for screams of your own to wake your dad. As you became older, the nightmares became less frequent and you were able to be your own comfort. Your dad had taught you how to wake up when a dream was becoming a nightmare, and Pepper made sure you always had a stash of candy and a flashlight in your bedstand for comfort. 

You woke up to screams tonight, however. Thinking at first that it was you, panic and embarrassment washed over your body. You shot up instantly, your hands flying to your mouth in a habit to quiet yourself. As your hands brushed your closed mouth, however, you realized you were silent. 

Quickly, you connected the dots as your feet brought themselves out of bed. Pepper wasn’t home, so you needed to be there for your dad. There was a selfish moment of debating — you were tired, and maybe there was a threat that he wouldn’t want you there for anyway so you should just stay in your room — but you quickly erased them from your head. He was your dad, for Christ’s sake. He would do the same for you. 

Both of your hands gripped the doorknob as you pulled open the door, eyes scanning the hallway before walking out. 

You weren’t sure what would make your dad scream so loud, but you had an internal hunch. Your steps were barefoot and swift, quiet against the dark wood floors. The hallway was quiet now, the scream seeming to have been single. Pausing a second time at your dad’s door, you wondered if you had maybe imagined it, and going in now would just be dumb. 

From inside the room, breathing filled the room. Not a steady pattern of sleeping breathing, no, this was the post-nightmare quick breathing that you recognized so well in yourself. Knocking on the door only brought the breathing to a brief pause, but no answer followed. You let yourself in.

Your dad sat in bed, his face damp and red. His eyes were already free of any potential sleep that had been in them just minutes before, and the bedsheets were thrown and pushed in all directions. “Y/N? You okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah, Dad I heard you-” Scream. You trailed off, unsure if he wanted to hear the word out loud. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Tony nodded, motioning for you to come closer. The small action spoke what you knew was the truth, that Tony Stark was not fine. 

You moved closer, sitting next to him on the bed as he steadied his breathing. There was silence for a moment, your presence helping Tony in itself. “Do you want to talk about it?” You asked softly, head leaning against his chest. 

Tony paused for a moment, memories running like a television program behind his glossy eyes. “Not really,” He admitted, in part because it was the truth and in part because he didn’t want to put you in that position. He was the dad, the parent. He was supposed to take care of you and be the strong one, he had promised to Mira what felt like centuries ago. God, he couldn’t imagine what the years before you felt like. How did he survive without you?

“Okay,” You nodded, unsure of what to say next. “I love you, dad.” 

Tony’s heart melted at the words. God, you had him wrapped around your finger and dangling there. He was so proud of you it almost burst out of his chest like a ray of light. 

“I love you too, kid,” Tony said softly, a smile on his lips. Pausing in thought, Tony finally added, “I’d be so lost without you, kid.” He planted a soft kiss onto your head, his arm moving slowly up and down yours. “You’re my home.”

[theeasternempress]

Baby’s First Bedtime Story

Chapter 2 of “All in One Day”

Please read Chapter 1: Baby’s First Stuffed Animal before reading this.

Summary - Before laying down for his first nap of the day, Din's son demands something from him.

AO3 

Once Din had finished spilling his heart to his son, the child went right back to playing with his new toy. The baby likely didn’t understand the heaviness of the moment they had shared, but Din’s heart was full of love all the same. 

Leaving the child in the ship’s hull, Din went to the cockpit to eat the still-warm meat kebab in private. He always fed the child before himself, but Din wanted to let him continue to play. Removing his helmet, Din couldn’t help but think that there would be a time when he would show his son his face. As he ate, Din became lost in thought at the possibilities his son would unlock for his future. Mere months ago, Din never thought he would be able to retire from being a bounty hunter because it was the only thing keeping him going. Now, he had a son he needed to stay alive for and care for. Din hoped that someday, he would be able to settle down and live a normal life with his son. Once his Tribe relocated, he could bring his child to the covert to raise him as a Mandalorian. 

Finishing his meal, Din returned to the hull only to find the baby sitting on top of the mythosaur toy almost as if he were a rider that had tamed the great beast. He was bouncing on it to make it move forward, which truly made it seem as if he was riding a mythosaur. The sweet sounds of happiness from his child warmed his heart, but the sight in front of Din also made his sides hurt from laughter. His laughter alerted his son to his presence and caused him to bounce his mythosaur over to Din, which only made Din laugh harder. The adorable yet hilarious sight was something Din hoped was permanently etched into his memory.

Kneeling down to his son’s level and stroking his head, Din asked, “Do you enjoy your toy?” The baby bounced up and down a few times in pure joy and for the first time, Din felt the overwhelming urge to kiss his little one’s forehead. The shock of such a thing caused Din to stop laughing and sigh. Doing such a thing would not go against any Code or Creed, but Din just wasn’t ready yet. 

The child broke him out of his thoughts by pulling on his pant leg to get his attention. Once he noticed his father looking at him, he began to bounce around on his toy some more. It still amazed Din just how easily the little one could make all his troubles disappear and be replaced with the joy he brought him.

“Okay, little one,” Din spoke, “I’ll watch you play. When you’re done, I’ll give you your breakfast.” If the child heard him, he didn’t show it as he continued to make his way across the ship to his heart’s content. Din leaned up against the side of the ship, happy to just watch his boy having the time of his life.

The child began to make his way towards Din, looking up at him with a sweet smile on his face. His excitement made him bounce higher and higher until on the way back down from one jump, he landed wrong on his toy and began to fall off. Quick to prevent his son from injury, Din dashed forward and caught his son in his arms. Din tugged him up quickly and held him to his chest. The fall would likely not have hurt his boy and he probably wouldn’t have even cried, but Din wouldn’t risk it.

Deciding it was time to move on from playtime, Din told his son, “I think it’s time for your breakfast now.” The child whimpered and gazed longingly back at his toy, reaching his arms out for it as Din took him in the opposite direction. 

“I’ll let you play with your toy some more once you’re done eating,” Din said softly. When Din put him down to grab the meat kebab, the baby began to crawl back over to his toy. Din sighed deeply and grabbed the baby to put him back where Din had placed him. The baby looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, letting out a single cry and reaching for his toy. Din’s heart stopped at the sight and he fumbled to break off a piece of meat for the child. He always cheered up when he was fed and Din was not prepared to be the reason his son was crying. 

The baby kept turning his head away from Din in protest of being separated from his toy, but Din was persistent and eventually managed to get a bit of food in the baby’s mouth. Once he got a taste of the food, his face instantly perked up and he opened his mouth wide for more. Din sighed in relief and continued to feed the child. 

Once the meat was all gone, Din put his son back on the ground and said, “Okay, you can go finish playing with your toy now.” The child’s giggles echoed across the ship as he ran to his toy as fast as his little feet could take him. He tackled the toy face-first, snuggling into it as if it were a friend he hadn’t seen in years. 

Din watched the child for a bit before remembering that he needed to put away the supplies he had bought. Din pulled all of the rations out of one of his cabinets and placed the new rations of veg-meat and polystarch bread in the back and the old rations and dried fruit in the front. Din wanted to finish the old food first, but the dried fruit would make meals feel less boring. 

Putting the supplies away only took a few minutes but by the time Din was done, his son was ready for his first nap of the day. Reaching down to pick up his boy, Din asked, “Did being a mythosaur rider tire you out?” 

As Din walked past the bag with his purchases for his son, the baby cooed and reached for the bag. Knowing what he wanted, Din brought him over to the bag and held it open to let him look inside. The child reached out and grabbed something from the bag before holding it out to his father. Taking it into his hands, Din saw that the child had grabbed one of the children’s books that Eila had recommended. This one had a brightly colored cover with the words Goodnight Moon written across the front.

Din’s parents had read stories to him as a child and he had sometimes read stories to foundlings from his Tribe, but that had been so long ago and Din wasn’t even sure if he was good at it. Mandalorians were meant to be good warriors, not good storytellers, but Din would be damned if he didn’t do his best to read his son a story. 

“Would you like me to read you a story before you take your nap?” Din asked the sleepy baby in his arms. The baby babbled and nodded, putting his hand over the one Din was grasping the book with. Din walked the baby over to his bassinet and placed him in it before covering him with one of his blankets. As Din was sitting down to begin reading, the baby crawled out of his bassinet and into Din’s lap. Din wrapped an arm around his son to keep him balanced in his lap and opened the book to the first page. 

“In the great green room,” Din began, “there was a telephone, and a red balloon, and a picture of the cow jumping over the moon.” The baby patted the pages, so Din pointed to each image and told the child what everything was. 

As Din continued to read, he would point to all of the items in the room to show the child what they were. As he continued to read, the child would understand what certain items were.  Whenever the baby found something before Din, he would giggle and smack his hands against the book in excitement. 

The book was short and Din reached the final page in a few minutes. “Goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere,” Din finished, closing the book softly. The child yawned in Din’s arms and Din was happy to see that his storytelling had helped soothe the baby. Din placed the book at his side to put the baby back in his bassinet and cover him with his blankets. Din stroked the child’s ear until he fell asleep and then quietly closed his bassinet. 

Din sighed and picked the book back up, content with himself. He was constantly doubting his abilities as a new father, but it seemed as if his child loved him no matter what. Fatherhood was a complicated adventure, but simple moments like this made it all worth it for Din. 

[ladyvader23]

Darth Vader vs the Stripping Phase

For @masterjinzu who asked to see Vader handle Luke and Leia in their “stripping phase” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Never, in his entire life, had Darth Vader regretted killing someone as much as he now regretted killing the twins sixth nanny. 

There were two very important reasons for this, reasons he didn’t think about until the day after he’d offed her. 

First, the following morning when he told the twins that whats-her-name (he’d already forgotten it) wouldn’t be coming back, they’d cried for a good two hours, then intermittently throughout the day. There was nothing--nothing--he hated more than his children crying because of something he’d done. 

At least that’s what he thought, until he discovered the second reason to regret killing the nanny. 

Apparently, Luke and Leia, his sweet, innocent, just barely turned two year olds, had hit their ‘stripping’ phase.

He hadn’t even known such a thing existed. He didn’t know how long this had been a problem, either. Had it been going on for a while and the nanny just took care of it without saying anything? Or had the twins, in an act of revenge for murdering their nanny, decided to start streaking through the condo naked as the day they’d been born? 

He’d discovered the problem one morning after sitting down to work from his home office. With no nanny to watch them, he needed to be near enough to ensure his little ones were safe. 

Much to the Emperor’s annoyance. 

He’d just posted an ad for another nanny on the holonet when Leia came running in. He looked up to admonish her for interrupting and order her to play somewhere else--but he stopped cold when he realized that the clothes he’d put on her that morning were now mysteriously missing. 

“Leia, where are your clothes?” he demanded, going to pick her up. She squealed and evaded his grasp, darting back out into the hallway...where he watched in horror as his equally naked son rushed after her. 

He simply stared at the doorway, aghast. 

Maybe he hadn’t clothed them properly? But...no, he was sure he had…

He quickly rushed to grab the kids and, while they kicked and squirmed in his arms, he forced them back into their clothes. 

But the alarming behavior didn’t stop. 

Three more times that same day. Four more the next. Twice the day after that. 

Finally, he called their doctor. Surely there was something wrong. There had to be. He was losing his patience, and not a single nanny application had been submitted and he was about to go insane… 

“How may I help you, Lord Vader?” Doctor Rawley picked up mercifully quickly. 

He was struggling to force Leia back into the black dress he’d picked out for her. He didn’t fail to notice Luke was in the corner already trying to break free of his tunic. “Can you explain why, for Force sake, my children insist on tearing their clothes off every time I have my back turned?!...Leia, stop it right now, young lady!” 

She’d thrown herself dramatically on her back and had started trying to kick him. “NO!” She shrieked, glaring at him. 

If they were not his children…

Doctor Rawley hesitated, as he always seemed to do before telling the Dark Lord something he didn’t wish to hear. “It’s not uncommon for toddlers, once they figure out how to undress, to do it repeatedly.” 

His hands stilled, and he looked at the comm link in horror. “This...is...normal?!” 

Admittedly, he said that a lot to Doctor Rawley. 

“Yes. It could be for a variety of reasons, but it’s usually a fascination with a new skill.” 

Why. Why hadn’t he done his research before deciding to have children?! He was a Sith Lord. Count Dooku never had to deal with this. Neither had Maul, he was certain. 

Why? Why him? 

“What other reasons doctor?” 

“Well, they may like the attention they’re getting when you react…” 

“Are you saying I don’t give them enough attention?!” 

“N-no, of course not, Lord Vader. I’m simply…”

This time Leia kicked his face--or the helmet--and with a snarl he released her completely. She immediately jumped up and bolted out, a now shirtless Luke hot on her heels. 

“What. Other. Reasons?!” He growled at the comm link. The doctor was lucky that he wasn’t on holovid, or he’d be dead for witnessing that. 

“...Well, they might not like their clothes…” 

He was so close to demanding what was wrong with the clothes provided to them, but he was certain the doctor had a logical explanation and he didn’t want to hear it. It was just more proof of how ill prepared he was for fatherhood. 

“What do you suggest, then?” 

“Instead of putting them in the same clothes they were wearing, try putting them into a different outfit instead. And if the outfit closes from the back, that’s even better.” The doctor hesitated again, and Vader braced himself. “Or...let them have their naked time.” 

Oh, the doctor was very lucky he was not nearby. “That is a completely unacceptable answer…” 

“I understand, Lord Vader. I am merely suggesting what has worked on other toddlers with the same, ah, tendencies.” 

Vader gritted his teeth. “That will be all.” He snapped, and with a wave of his hand the call disconnected. Seconds later, he had his admiral on the line. 

When he answered, he didn’t even bother with greetings. Instead, he rushed straight to the issue at hand. “Admiral, you will use my funds and you will immediately go to the nearest tailor selling toddler clothes and you will buy every single item in the sizes that I will transmit to you. Spare no expense. I want all of it.” 

“...Y-yes, Lord Vader.” 

He didn’t care if it made him sound like he was spoiling his children. There was no way he would allow them to run free in their name day suits. No way. 

Admittedly, his reputation had taken a hit when he’d found his children and decided to keep them. It was normally not anything he couldn’t make up for in battle or in dealing with his subordinates. But if his children were to be found running around without their clothes on? 

He didn’t think he’d recover from that. 

And unfortunately, the Force seemed to want to test that theory out. 

It was the following day, early in the morning. He’d attempted to dress Luke in a soft, white tunic and black pants, with Leia in an equally soft blue tunic and black pants. So far, neither of them seemed inclined to start stripping--at least not whenever he checked in on them. 

So, he went back to his work. Namely, checking the pitiful amount of applicants for the nanny position. Apparently, his reputation for killing nannies had spread, and there were very few who wished to work for him. Yet another reason he regretted killing so many, he decided as he glared at the screen. 

It was as he was contemplating his rotten luck that he felt it--the presence of his master. 

Coming straight for his front door. 

He looked up, and though his skin was already pale beneath the suit, he was sure his face whitened further. 

He didn’t even need to ask why the Emperor had bothered to visit him at his home. It was so rare these days for him to leave the palace or the senate. Never, in the last few years, had he bothered dropping by either his home on Coruscant or on Mustafar. 

But now? Now he wanted to see what it was that was preventing Vader from leaving the planet to carry out his duties across the galaxy. 

Or, rather, he was coming to confirm why. 

Hurriedly, he stood, making sure his mental shields were strengthened as he stormed for the front door. The Emperor would not knock. What Vader owned, he owned...at least in his eyes. So, quickly, Vader dropped by the twin’s bedroom and checked in on them. 

Mercifully, they were still clothed and playing with the toy ships and stormtroopers he’d given them for their birthday. 

“Do not remove your clothes.” He warned, pointing a finger at them. 

Both of them blinked at him, and he sent the warning through their Force bond. He didn’t know what good it would do. They were still so young, and who knew how much they understood? He couldn’t exactly express to them why it was imperative that they keep their clothes on while the Emperor of the galaxy was visiting. 

He just had to hope they’d understand at least until he could bore the Emperor enough to get him to leave. 

As he predicted, the front door hissed open just as he reached it. In stepped the hooded, hunched figure of the Emperor. “Ah. Lord Vader. Just who I wanted to see.” 

Obviously. Vader wanted to say, but instead he knelt in front of the man. “I sensed your arrival, Master. How may I serve you?” 

Please tell me. Now. So you can leave. Is what he wanted to say, but he kept that carefully shielded from him. 

But the Emperor seemed to know he was in a hurry anyway, because he took his time taking in the condo at his leisure. “You keep your home clean, considering that you have two little ones running around. Probably with filthy fingers.” 

“They are well behaved.” The answer was automatic, even if it was currently a lie. 

“If they are so well behaved, then why have you not found yourself a new nanny? I need you out enforcing my will upon the galaxy, not babysitting.” 

Though on the surface the Emperor sounded like an old friend asking him about his troubles, he could detect the disdain hiding beneath his grandfatherly demeanor. 

“It would seem it is less about my children’s behavior and more about my reputation for,” he paused, deciding how to word it, “how I choose to reward failure.” 

The Emperor scoffed, and finally made a gesture with his hand, allowing Vader to rise. “I will see if I can speed the process up.” 

He didn’t love the idea of the Emperor having anything to do with his children, but he was smart enough not to protest. He’d have to find some way to undermine the order.

“I trust your work has…” The Emperor began, but another noise behind him had Vader tuning his master out. 

The sound of bare feet pitter pattering across the room…

Please don’t be naked, please don’t be naked, please don’t be naked…

He didn’t dare turn around, even as the Emperor broke off, his golden eyes narrowing at wherever his children had disappeared to. 

There was silence, only broken by the sound of his respirator. 

“Lord Vader.” 

“Yes, Master?” 

Oh Force. Force. This couldn’t be happening. 

“Did I just...see...two children running through your home...naked?” 

It was happening. 

He stood there, absolutely still, willing to be back on Mustafar, swallowed up by the lava so he wouldn’t have to face what was currently happening, completely out of his control. 

He didn’t know what to say. The Emperor, a master of the Sith, was far less likely to be understanding about children than he ever was. 

So he said the first thing that came to mind. 

“No.” 

The Emperor raised a wrinkled, deformed brow. “Oh?” To Vader’s horror, he realized that his Master felt his misery and was currently reveling in it. “So your children aren’t currently streaking through your home?” 

There went his reputation. 

“No.” 

“I see.” Oh yes, there was definitely dark pleasure in his master’s voice. “Well. It would seem that Luke and Leia need a firm, guiding hand in their lives at the moment. Maybe you should take a few more days to work from home.” 

Translation: This is what you get for taking them in. Suffer the tarnishing of your reputation. You brought this on yourself.  

 “That is most wise, my Master.” He forced out. 

“Good.” The Emperor turned, ready to leave, but before he did, he glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, and Lord Vader?” 

Please just leave. “Yes, my Master?” 

A sinister smile revealed rotting teeth. “Do get your children under control. Before I am forced to step in myself.” 

And as Vader watched the man leave, only to listen to his children run through the house still naked...something in him broke. 

His reputation was gone. Shredded. All that was left was him in his stupid life support suit and his two naked children running around the house. 

“Who dat?” Luke asked from behind him. 

Vader looked up at the ceiling, cursing the Force for it’s decision to continue to torture him. “The Emperor.” Then, he looked down at his son. 

Still naked. 

Luke frowned. “Daddy mad?” 

Mad? He was beyond that. Well beyond it. 

And yet...he didn’t have the energy. 

“I’m going to meditate.” He announced. He didn’t know if Luke understood it. Probably not. “Be nice to your sister.” 

As he walked away, a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered, Doctor Rawley was right. This once, allow them to have their naked time. 

He’d deal with their insubordination later. For now, he would retreat, gather his strength…

And ponder on how he’d gone from a feared apprentice of the Sith to an exhausted father with unclothed twins in less than a week.