#another change that she would have to adapt to that would be hard for her at first... getting sick so quickly and so violently...

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

on top of everything else that being exploded and then doused in radiation would probably do to you, sometimes i ponder about how solaris would get by post the death engine incident and think about general health... the sort of stuff that most would consider very basic, or mild.

typically, those who suffer from either bone targeted radiation or full body radiation are incredibly likely to have a very weakened immune system. and i wonder how that must affect solaris' day to day life... inside of zoraxis and out.

does zor have good health insurance? honestly, a part of me doubts it. does she get paid sick leave? i'm not sure how efficient she would be coming into work looking like death warmed over... and how must she be faring post quitting? she lives in the mountains, now... it's cold up there... and if she gets sick all the way up there, there's no one to take care of her but herself

[gojoest]

from pregnancy freak to postpartum freak — satoru finds himself in a tough spot while your body is recovering from giving birth to his child. he tries to be patient but motherhood looks so beautiful on you… and unfortunately, after you’re ready to have him again, there seems to be another little issue — one that likes to cry and disrupt the moment satoru has been longing for

MDNI, established relationship, f!reader (she/her), pregnancy and postpartum, you have a beautiful baby daughter, mentions of breastfeeding and satoru being really really weird about it, mentions of male masturbation, somno if you squint really hard (just to be safe), pet names (baby, beautiful, sweetheart), nothing too explicit going on here tbf, but there’s a sweet little hint of a potential breeding sesh at the end, not proofread, wc: 1.8k+

your husband (gojo satoru) and you have always had a marvelous sex life, one that would naturally induce a sense of envy in anyone who came to know of it, accidentally or not — the walls were thin, but sometimes it was the mouth of your husband that was too big.

but in all honesty, there has never been a day in which you didn’t desire each other carnally, even after so many years.

you thought, maybe, this might change after he knocked you up with a baby — you had read a handful of articles on the topic and how some men become more distant during that sensitive timeframe — but as it turns out, you could not have been more wrong. either those magazines sucked or your husband was some sort of mutation. maybe, it was both.

your pregnancy could be, in fact, easily considered the peak of your sex life — that round belly of yours really did a number on him, as well as on you. well, with you it was the hormonal changes your body was going through that made you so borderline sexually insatiable, and the mood to bounce on him would strike you more often than ever. at some point, your sex drive went off the roof — you’d ask him to fuck you multiple times a day and satoru couldn’t be more fortunate — he’d drop everything and oblige in an instant, like that was all he had been waiting for, which was not so far from the truth. it was safe to say that you enabled the freak in him, and he was grateful.

“thank god… i don’t know how else i could survive those 9 months with you glowing like this, becoming more and more beautiful with each passing day”, he’d say to you every time you pressed and rubbed your ass against his cock in the middle of the night, not so innocently waking him up because you had a craving.

you had a lot of sex, but he was always careful with your aches and pains, no quirky positions until the baby was born — your physique didn’t allow it as the pregnancy progressed anyway. but the passion was always there, undeniably so, growing along with you.

but things changed after you went into labor and your daughter was born. the perfect little angel, his and his baby’s baby. satoru has never been happier.

to be honest, he didn’t think about sex at all in the beginning. he was on cloud nine, overjoyed. every second of his day was spent exploring this new light in his life and taking care of the both of you.

after you got discharged from the hospital, he took it upon himself to look after the house and deal with the chores — he handled the cooking, he washed the dishes, cleaned, did the laundry and everything else that needed to be done — while you were healing and navigating through motherhood. he helped you nurse your daughter, there wasn’t a single night where he didn’t wake up along with you whenever the baby needed feeding or randomly started crying.

but soon enough, after he adapted to this new pace, his sex drive started showing signs of its return. it came back strong — in fact, stronger than ever, and once again it was none other than you to blame for it.

…because, being a mother looked so good on you.

you have been his wife for years. but now, you are the mother of his child, and that is a title that somehow makes you his even more than ever. it is so permanent. because, even if you leave him one day — which you never would since he would simply never allow it — being the mother of his child will always tie you to him, he will always have a place in your life. that’s it, you just made it impossible for yourself to run away from him. like it or not, you will be his eternally and irrevocably.

he liked watching you be a mother and couldn’t help but get bricked up each time you held your daughter close to your chest, revealing your breast and holding it to her mouth in order to feed her.

was this normal? to get this hard? now of all times? — he didn’t know, and honestly, he didn’t bother finding out. because, when was he ever normal about you to begin with?

all he wanted to do in those moments was pin you down and fuck himself into you. you could see it in his eyes and in his bulge that he was trying to readjust.

“don’t try anything funny in front of the baby”

“i would never — i am simply watching and engraving this scene into my mind, for later”

‘for later’ obviously meant when he was jerking off.

the doctor said “no sexual intercourse for six weeks”

your body needed time to heal after giving birth, and that was only natural. and it was okay.

but it didn’t mean it wasn’t arduous for him. he had to watch you day and night without being able to touch you in ways he wanted to.

and now it’s been two months. two whole months without him laying a finger on you. his urges were back with full force, but yours? not really.

sure, you cuddled plenty while the baby was sleeping, which made it even harder for him. but you never got sexually intimate after you gave birth. he was well aware that you needed more time, that your body was still not ready, that you were exhausted physically and mentally because, once again, you were going through all these changes — because of him.

he understood that. but still, he missed you so much.

he’d jerk off whenever he got the chance, more than once a day, in fact. religiously so in the shower, it was a must — or else he would find it more difficult to manage himself around you.

sometimes he’d watch you breastfeed the baby and secretly sneak into the bathroom midway through it to rub one out, because if he didn’t — he’d bust right then and there. but can you blame him? you looked so maternal, so ungodly and unapologetically beautiful. the way you hissed whenever the baby sucked too hard on your nipple made him wish it was him dragging those sounds out of you…

fuck. he was becoming a freak again.

there were nights when he would wake up, as hard as a rock, and watch you sleep while fisting himself in the spot next to you in bed. he would be careful not to wake you when pushing the cleavage of your gown down, just enough to take your breasts out. he’d peck you softly on the nipples and that would inevitably and always lead to him uncontrollably unloading himself inside his palm. sometimes he would make a mess of the bedsheets, other times — of your nightgown.

“shit— if simply touching your skin does this to me, then i don’t want to think what will happen to me the second i slide it in”, he’d curse under his nose while washing off in the bathroom. “fuck. i miss you, baby”, he’d brush a hand over his face. “look what you made of me…”, and he would get hard all over again, just because for a split second he thought of being inside you.

luckily, you soon started dropping subtle hints of desiring him — initiating longer morning kisses, biting your lower lip and giving him the look whenever he walked out of the shower, saying his name in that same sweet voice with an undertone of fake innocence you would use in the past every time you wanted him to do things to you, rubbing his chest as you cuddled in bed or on the couch, sometimes your hand would slide a bit lower down his abdomen… but, that was it.

satoru never saw past the pearly gates, because his sweet angel of a baby would always start crying in the most inappropriate of times, as if on purpose.

“you go — i don’t want to face my daughter with a boner”, he’d whine, and you’d chuckle.

he loved his daughter more than anything, but he was genuinely bummed out and he had to do something about it.

one afternoon, after you fed the baby and left her in the care of your husband to go and take a shower, satoru put his daughter in the crib and leaned over with a serious expression of a parent about to lecture their misbehaving kid.

“listen, little miss, because we have a problem”

the baby chuckles in response.

“…and apparently, you know it”, satoru snorts. “but listen here, i know you love mama and you want her all to yourself. but what about papa?”, he pouts. “papa loves her too and wants her all to himself, at least once a day, but you’re not giving him a chance here. it’s not like i am asking for an entire day, just stay put for 15 minutes — 15 minutes is all i am asking for. deal?”

his daughter lets out another sweet chuckle.

“i’ll take that as a yes”, he caresses her cheek before leaving the room with the baby monitor in hand to join you in the shower.

finally. it was happening.

he stripped out of his clothes and walked into the bathroom, placing the baby monitor on the sink countertop before stepping into the shower cabin, letting the hot stream wash down his body as he reached for you.

“hello, beautiful”

“oh—“, you jolt. “you’re here? but what about the ba—"

“shh—“, he puts a finger on your lips, his free hand snaking around your waist to pull you close. “don’t worry, she’s fine. if something happens, we’ll know it from the baby monitor — so just relax”

you smile against his fingertip and softly peck it before sucking it in between your lips. his cock, already hard and squished between your naked bodies, throbs with a powerful twitch. a low growl rolls out of his mouth.

“god… i’ve missed you so much”, his hips involuntarily push against you, a desperate attempt to seek more friction by humping himself on your stomach. with how starved he was for you, he could probably finish just from this. but he wanted to take it slow and savor every second.

“it’s been so long, isn’t it?”

he nods. “i thought i was going to die”

you laugh. “you’re exaggerating”

“i am not… i never thought our tiny little angel could be such a huge devilish cockblock”

“you shouldn’t speak like that about our kid”, you snort.

“but it’s true. she’s a sly one, and obviously she’s obsessed with you”, he pouts.

“i wonder who she took it from…”

“she’s going to cause me a lot of trouble, isn’t she? but maybe, if we gave her a friend, she wouldn’t feel as lonely. maybe then, we’d get to have more alone time — like this. what do you think?”

“she’s too young for a pet, satoru. you know that”

he laughs. “i didn’t mean a pet, sweetheart. but we can get that too at some point”

[ceesimz]

growing pains

how does your relationship change, years down the line, with two kids in the picture? (angst + lotttt of fluff. like, 16k of it.)

When it’s right, it’s right. 

That’s something you believed in and always had done. If something feels right, let it happen. Don’t fight it. It led you down many paths, of which were almost always successful. 

Your favourite path, however, was how right it felt when you sat across from Alexia on the first date. How easy it was to laugh and joke with her, to have meaningful conversations about the past, the present, and the future. How quick you decided she was the one for you; in both your relationship, and in parenthood. Coming to the decision of having children with her was like breathing and blinking, it was natural for you. You didn’t want anyone else, didn’t believe there was another person in the world that you’d want to navigate the highs and lows with. 

No matter what happened, no matter how hard it got, not a single part of you doubted you wouldn’t get through it together.

That didn’t mean the first blip didn’t hurt any less, didn’t make you panic or overthink everything any less. The first one might have been the scariest to get through, simply because of the unfamiliarity and unknown of it. And thankfully, it wasn’t anybody’s fault, it was a combination of many things that built up continuously until it all erupted like a volcano. But realising that and accepting that in the moment was an impossible task when it felt like the world was ending and the one person meant to be on your side no matter what was fighting against you.

Your first child, Anaís, didn’t adjust well to moving into her own room without her two parents, like any baby did. Some adapted quicker than others, whilst ones like Anaís just couldn’t bear it. Her reaction of screaming and crying, exerting herself and dropping into a cycle of over-exhaustion whilst being too unsettled to sleep was one of the hardest things you had ever witnessed. The same went for Alexia too.

However, at the one moment you should have been there for each other and collectively there for your daughter, your love got in the way. It sounded backwards, but it was the truth. You both cared for the six month old immeasurably, and that led to your solutions causing you to clash in figuring out what was best for the shrieking baby that just could not settle.

“She won’t stop crying, I’m not just going to ignore her!” 

Alexia's argument was valid, of course it was. Self-soothing was apparently something important to learn in hand with this adjustment for Anaís, the only thing was that it went against every parental instinct in existence, and Alexia just couldn’t handle it. 

You couldn’t either, and she would have recognised that if she took a second to step back and think rationally about the situation you found yourselves. However, all rational thinking had flown out the window for you both, her particularly, because there was no rational thinking to be done when your child was screaming like she was and igniting every ounce of concern either of you had to give.

“We’re not ignoring her, I’ve told you this. It’s an important step, Ale. We’re right here, if there’s somethi-”

“There is something wrong with her! Can’t you hear her?” You huffed and buried your head in your hands where you sat on the edge of the bed, baby monitor beside you with the brunette pacing back and forth in front of you. 

“Stop. Of course I can hear her. This isn’t easy for me either, stop putting the blame on me.” 

You were seconds away from getting up and walking out the room to avoid her misplaced anger. With every shout from her, every exclamation, your emotional stamina was wearing thin; initially you understood where it was coming from, a place of love and fear, it was natural. But each time she raised her voice and grumbled under her breath, you were growing irritated with her at the immature display of emotion. 

The sounds of Anaís’ discomfort was unbearable – every scream made your skin crawl and your heart clench excruciatingly. In situations like this, where you were on the edge of a nervous breakdown, Alexia would be the first person you’d go to. Actually, nevermind that, she would already be there before you reached the edge. She’d be there with open arms and endless words of reassurances, ready to remind you that you weren’t losing your mind and things were solvable. 

Without her there to tell you all that, things didn’t seem so simple and solvable like they usually did. Everything just seemed so much worse. You felt lost without her on your team. 

“I’m not putting the blame on you.” She grumbled, leaning back against the wall by the door and letting out a disapproving sigh that grated at you. A minute or two passed by of silence, the only sounds being Anaís’ whimpers and cries that never ceased. “I’m tired of this, it’s unfair. I’m going in.”

You had to grab onto her hand before she could swing the door open in her aggression, keeping a tight grip when she tried to shake it off.

“Don’t go against me on this, Alexia. It’s no easier for you than it is for me, please don’t rebuttal against it.” You half-warned, half-begged. Only for her to scoff in your face.

“No, I am her parent too, I get to make important decisions too. And I am deciding that this is too much for my daughter.”

She swiped her wrist out of your grasp and stormed out the room, reaching Anaís’ nursery in four long strides and rushing in like a firefighter. After watching her go and hearing what she had to say, you slammed the bedroom door shut behind her. 

At first, your blood boiled at the sheer amount of audacity she had to say ‘her’ daughter, like the decisions you were making had any impact on your position as Anaís parent. Quite frankly, it disgusted you that she chose to say that. Never did you think she’d use such a delicate thing to spite you, especially when you worried constantly about if you were good enough for the sweet little baby whose life depended on you. 

Yet, you could hear every soft and soothing word she sweetly murmured to your daughter through the baby monitor. And for a moment, you were jealous. Jealous of your own child for being on the receiving end of the care Alexia usually gave to you. An intense jealousy that consumed you, seeped into your soul, and took over you like your love was some kind of possession. 

That was when you realised something had to change in this situation. 

This wasn’t the way you wanted to raise your child. Even though there wasn’t even the slightest possible chance Anaís would remember it, you knew the effect these kinds of things had on children, and both you and Alexia had sworn that, no matter what, Anaís and any future children would never know what it was like to grow up in a home that wasn’t drowning in love. Not even for just a second.

You took a deep breath, or ten, and tried to relax the tension in your shoulders. They were nearly up to your ears with stress, you could feel the knots beginning to build in your muscles across your back, as well as a stress headache building up ferociously.

Alexia was the best coparent you could ask for, how she was acting in the other room when she thought no one was listening said all that needed to be said. Anaís’ reaction wasn’t how you expected her to be, and it became very clear that a different approach was needed.

Only you and Alexia know your child. Only the two of you knew what was best, not some random articles and forums. So you took another breath, looked at the love of your life on the screen of the monitor, the mother of your child, heard how perfect she was with your baby, and it all clicked. She was on your team, you were both just too clouded to remember that. Clouded because you had made your daughter the top priority, clouded for the best reason, most important reason. You were still outrageously frustrated at her and the comment she made, but she’d make her regret known, you could hear it in the quiet sniffles that sounded through the small monitor sporadically.

Down the microphone of the baby monitor, Alexia was still quietly mumbling to a significantly calmer Anaís, and it warmed your heart. You held down the button to get the microphone on your end to work, waiting for a second as Alexia finished her rambling and placed a gentle kiss to the tired baby’s head, punctuated with a swipe of her thumb against her own cheek to rid it of the wetness that had accumulated.

“Bring her back in here, Ale.” You told her, stifling a smile at the way she jumped a little at the unexpected voice in the room. She nodded though, and did as you said.

She looked a little sheepish as she walked in, her arms cradling Anaís and rocking her ever so slightly. You shuffled to sit back against the headboard and patted the space beside you for her to sit too. In her arms, Anaís was minutes away from falling asleep, finally. Meanwhile, the two of you had stress lines and dark eyebags that told a story in itself. One you wanted to end, so desperately. 

However, you weren’t going to be the one that gave in first. You deserved an apology and you could tell Alexia knew that with how she sat uncomfortably beside you, her guilt evidently eating away at her. The second she opened her mouth, you already knew you’d forgive her, and that she was the only person in the world you would navigate this pathway with.

It seemed Alexia felt that way too.

“I… am so sorry.” She whispered, accompanied by a sigh that was a lot gentler, quieter, not a spiteful one like earlier. 

Your eyes drifted to your daughter and remained unmoving, stuck on the slight up and down of her chest as she breathed and the flutter of her tiny eyelashes as she fought sleep once more. Alexia seemed to notice, and though she would keep Anaís in her arms forever if she could, the only other person she would let her go for is you. 

“Take her. She’s okay. She’ll fall asleep right away with you.” Her voice was so soft, the contrast of it then compared to before, it made your heart ache. 

You didn’t stay on that note too long as you tried to ignore the lump in your throat. Instead, you reached for your daughter instead, being careful to keep the peace that’d finally found her. Alexia lay her in your arms and you leaned back against the headboard, cuddling Anaís as close to you as you could get her. It wasn’t until now, with her in your hold, that you realised just how much this whole thing had affected you. There was no point in fighting off the overwhelm of emotions that started cascading over you. If Alexia felt guilty before, it increased by an astronomical amount when she saw the first glimmer of a tear stream down your cheek in the low light of the bedroom.

She let you have your moment with your baby, knowing it was the main thing that could ground you then, and she’d wait for her turn when you had the space for it in your mind. The brunette knew, after her earlier actions, that she was low on your list of priorities, that she understood. She made a low blow and hated herself for it.

“We’ll keep her in here for tonight. Try again another day.” You mumbled, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against Anaís as she began to doze off. Alexia nodded and left it at that, she could read between the lines of your words as you wrote the conversation off for the night. 

The light weight of your daughter, there was no greater comfort in the world. The second she was away from you, it felt like half your heart had gone with her; you only felt whole with her around, something you never expected to experience before becoming a parent. You simply weren’t you without your new little family. 

Time ticked on a little, it being so quiet in the room you could hear the hands of Alexia’s watch on her bedside table tick by. Anaís didn’t shuffle or stir once, she was almost always at peace with you, something that filled you with both pride and relief. It was enough of a remedy for the tumultuous turn the night had taken, that you leaned your head against Alexia’s shoulder with a tired exhale. The small action turned the midfielder’s whole mood around, unknowingly needing you just as much as you her. Even if sometimes you didn’t feel it, or you did but you rejected it, you would always need her. She’d always need you. There were some occasions where your reliance on each other overpowered your anger, you both needed to get better at recognising that. 

So even though you were still mad, you gladly leaned into her more when she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and placed a kiss on your temple.

“I’m sorry. More than you know.” Alexia murmured, and you didn’t even have to look at her to know there was a self-deprecating frown on her face. Normally you’d kiss it off her or brush the wrinkled lines away with your thumb, but you let this one linger a tad longer. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it and I could never mean it. I’m so sorry, amor. I swear.” 

“It really hurt, Alexia.” You blurted out. You didn’t know you had things to say, but there were words rolling off your tongue anyway. “Don’t ever use that against me again. You… made me feel like a bad mother and you’re the last person in the world that’s supposed to make me feel like that. It really did hurt.” 

Your voice cracked as you spoke, your eyes never moving from your daughter. Still, in your peripheral vision, you saw Alexia turn her head away for a second as she let out a sharp breath. Sharp because it felt like she’d been stabbed in the heart with your honesty, your much needed honesty, but painful nevertheless. It was entirely her fault, she knew that, and to know she had made you feel so wrecked was something she would never forget. It’d be on her mind for the next god knows however long, until she feels deserving to not be reminded of such idiocy, only as a result of you knowing you were a good parent. The best parent. Until you remembered that again, she’d be stuck wallowing in her regret forever. 

After she collected herself again, she turned back to you, attempting to discreetly wipe her tears away that’d come back when your voice wobbled with emotion you never should have felt in the first place. Her arm that was still around you hugged you tighter, and she repeatedly pressed her lips to your forehead as if she was trying to kiss away the hurt you described. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered once more, suppressing a sob as all that ran through her mind was you, the offense you must have taken, the doubts that must be running rampant in your head, all these things you never should have to experience yet you did then because of her own stupid actions. “You are the best parent, I swear my life on that. On everything I have. There is no one else that could give Anaís the love you give to her. You’re the love of my life, the love of Anaís’ life. She looks at you like you’re the only person that exists, she adores you, and that’s because of how amazing you are as a mother to her. Look how she has settled now. You’re her favourite person in the world.”

Even though her earlier words still echoed in the background, something about the soothing, sincere way she apologised hit something inside you. This version of her was the version you knew, the one that knew exactly what you needed to hear and when, even if what you needed now was a result of her own wrongdoing. But she was human, she made mistakes, and despite the fact that what she said before rang deep, you knew she didn’t mean it. She wasn’t the type of woman to say something like that and mean every syllable, she couldn’t be further from the opposite if she tried. She was the type to love you when it was hard, to care for you when you pushed her away, and to give you the world when she herself didn’t have the strength to carry it. The important thing was that she tried, god she was the most determined person you’d ever met, and she’d be damned if she didn’t try her hardest to get you to forgive her. 

Hell, you’d made some choice words once or twice to her over the years, you wouldn’t be a good partner if you didn’t give her the same grace she always gave you, no matter what. This time, when tears came to your eyes once more, it was because of her words again, but for totally different reasons. Hearing her talk so warmly and honestly about what she thought of you as a parent never failed to strike you right in the chest.

“You really think that?” You sniffled, gazing down at your sleeping daughter through blurred vision and feeling the soft smile Alexia had to give rather than seeing it, her cheek pressed against yours. 

“I do. You are her entire world, amor.” The brunette replied without a shred of doubt. 

Her fingertips of the arm she had draped around your shoulders lightly trailed up and down your skin in a comforting gesture, yet another reason for the tears that quietly made their way down your cheeks. She noticed, but she didn’t speak. Instead, she chose to take the moment with you, a silent reconciliation where any further words weren’t necessary. The evening had been filled with frustration and, consequently, too many exchanges rife with vitriol that had led to this point. Now, with most of it behind you both, the tension began to dissolve and your focus could be averted back to the important things; your baby, and each other.

Anaís, despite her rosy cheeks and slightly runny nose, was calm again. And that calmness bled into you and Alexia, bringing the two of you down from your heightened states and relishing in the serenity in the room. A combination of Anaís’ muffled snores, Alexia’s steady and forever unwavering presence and hold, and the newfound stillness around meant you could breathe a little easier, think a little clearer. It provided a moment of much needed clarity, where you recognised that any challenge you came across, whether that be in parenthood, your relationship, or the two combined, you could get through them. 

When you woke up the next morning, you had a feeling you’d feel more sure and certain in your capabilities as a parent and partner, with a better sense of the strength you possessed to tackle any obstacles that cropped up in the future. Most importantly, however, you weren’t alone. Though you wished you didn’t have to go through these sorts of things, they provided an opportunity to grow, and you weren’t going to bypass that just to hold a grudge. You wanted to let her know that you were well on your way to forgiving her. 

“I love how she is sleeping like she didn’t nearly cause a war.” Alexia commented some time later, the pair of you breaking into very quiet laughter, fearful of disgruntling Anaís. “How beautiful she is, no?” 

“I know. But it’s a bit vain to say that, Ale, when she’s entirely your DNA and not mine.” You teased, grinning at the shake of her head and soft chuckle. 

“Nuestra pequeña. Qué afortunados somos.” Alexia stated ever so quietly, almost intelligibly, in complete awe. You shared the sentiment, a smile on your face when the brunette leaned down to graze her lips against the young girl’s forehead. 

“The luckiest.” You agreed in a breathy whisper, utterly consumed with love for your daughter, and the woman at your side. 

“I know she has to sleep in her room eventually, but for tonight, we have her in here. And maybe, I don’t know, we think of a different approach. It isn’t working for her and it’s not fair on any of us.” You nodded immediately, mind already reeling with idea after idea to make it an easier transition for everyone. Ultimately though, after the night that’d already been had, now wasn’t the time.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow. We’re all exhausted.” Alexia hummed her agreement with a yawn for good measure. 

After a few more minutes of cuddles with your family, you cautiously put Anaís down into the cot next to your side of the bed. Having already done your own night routine long before the events that had occurred, you climbed into bed and lay on your side facing your daughter, like you did nearly every night. Alexia did a quick check around the house, locking the doors and grabbing anything the three of you might need overnight as she always did, before sliding under the duvet behind you. Her lips found your shoulder, followed by her arms wrapping around you and hugging you tight back to her. 

“I love you. Always.” She murmured against your skin, nuzzling her face into the back of your neck.

“I love you too, Ale.” You said back easily, because it was easy to say those words to her, no matter what had happened. Some truths were simple. 

The next day, you found a new system for Anaís bedtime. One that was extraordinarily better for all of you, and worked almost seamlessly. Some nights were a bit harder than others, and she did end up in your room every so often, but it wasn’t long before she was sleeping in her rooms every night and only waking up a couple times. And when it was time for your second child, your son Oriol, to adapt to his room, the two of you had it down perfectly. That blip with Anaís was merely a distant memory.

—

“Anaís, no, you can’t throw your food at me!” Alexia sighed exasperatedly, bending down for the hundredth time to pick up her daughter’s dinner that was more on the floor than her plate. 

Days where you were out working and Alexia was left alone with Anaís were days she treasured. Except, when the two year old seemingly decided that she didn’t feel like treasuring them and instead didn’t want anything to do with her Mami, things weren’t so fun. 

The morning had been bliss, with the three of you spending it lazily in bed until 10am where you finally had to get up and get ready to leave, which was when everything fell apart. The second the door closed behind you, the what should be quiet house was then filled with the sharpest cries one could imagine. It took twenty minutes and too many persuasion tactics from Alexia to get her to calm down, which included a small bowl of chocolate buttons in front of the TV, something so out of the norm for a morning with Anaís. She screamed and screamed anytime the brunette tried to change her into clothes other than her pajamas, and the same went for when she tried to put some shoes on her. So that threw the day’s plans out the window, substituted for a day at home instead, where Alexia had no idea what to do with both Anaís and herself.

Alarm bells were already ringing loudly in her mind at the out-of-character behaviour from her daughter, but no matter what she tried, she couldn’t get to the bottom of it. The toddler didn’t seem ill, she wasn’t showing any signs of injuries that Alexia could see, she’d had a great night's sleep the night before, and nothing else was out of the norm. She wasn’t the type to behave badly on purpose, or at least hadn’t until that point, and Alexia didn’t believe that was what the case was. The midfielder was left completely dumbfounded. 

And it remained that way for the whole time you were gone. In fact, things got worse. Hardly half an hour went by without tears from Anaís and concern that was unknowingly turning into frustration for Alexia. All sorts of things started running through her mind, thoughts she hadn’t had in a long time, not since her daughter was a tiny sub-10-pound baby whose fist fit around her pinky. With each show of defiance, of utter distaste for her Mami, and every scrike that shook the walls of your home, the doubts began to creep in for Alexia. They snuck in quietly, disguised by the sounds coming from Anaís, nestling deep in the back of her head and growing nearly every second. 

When dinner time came, of which even just getting Anaís into her chair was a struggle, her confidence as a parent was in tatters. It’d been thoroughly wrecked, she didn’t even know how the pair of them had survived the day. But the worst was yet to come.

No less than five minutes in and almost her entire dinner was scattered across the tiled floor of the kitchen. What hadn’t made it to the ground had gathered on Alexia’s shirt. The tears came back in full force for the younger girl, and the excruciating pain it was to listen to it nearly evoked the same reaction from the footballer. Never had she felt so lost, so not worthy of being a parent. She didn’t feel at all good enough for her daughter, something she always worried she’d feel but never actually believed it was a point she’d reach. Well, she had, and it seemed like a pit she’d spiralled into that she would never get out of again.

You came home at precisely the right time to save the situation from becoming any worse. You closed the door behind you and went to call out to your family, just to hear what could only be described as terror. Anaís’ shouting voice echoed from the kitchen to the hall by the front door, paired with Alexia’s panicked ramble as she tried to extinguish the situation. At that, you rushed to put your things down so you could go in and see what seemed to be going so wrong.

“-please! Anaís, we’re okay, it’s okay! Mi amor, I don’t know what to do for you, wha-”

“Ale? What’s going on?” 

When you walked in, Alexia looked like she could have cried from relief. Anaís calmed instantly, like the day hadn’t even happened. Her arms reached out for you whilst Alexia slumped back in her chair, slamming an empty plastic bowl that once had fruit in it onto the table, and putting her head in her hands. 

“Of course she fucking settles with you.” 

Whereas such a phrase may have sounded venomous to anyone else, to you, the person that had spoken to her every single day since you met her all those years ago, you knew the sentence was coated in frustration which was aimed entirely at herself. And the accompanying sniffle she tried to disguise after it too told you everything. When she got angry, especially at herself, she got tearful. Because she wasn’t an angry person; she was afraid of disappointing others. Which, in turn, filled her with fury that burned her from the inside out. Barely two seconds in the room with her and you knew it must’ve been a terrible day for the both of them, and that Alexia was wracked with a devastating amount of self-loathing.

“Okay, okay. She didn’t eat much dinner, I’m assuming?” You checked gently, being met with a scoff and a shake of her head where it was still in her hands, hiding the turmoil that’d be visible on her face with the tears that no doubt streamed. “That’s fine, we can deal with it. Could you go run her a bath for me? Take a moment away from all this and run her a bath so I can try and get her to eat something before bedtime?”

The two year old, with wispy strands of her brown hair sticking to her cheek from a combo of sweat and tears, rested her head against your shoulder and tucked her face into your neck. She seemed tired, exhausted even, something that didn’t exactly come as a surprise given what had apparently transpired during the day. However, you weren’t certain that she was properly feeling like herself, something told you she wasn’t doing too well. 

Per your request, Alexia left the room as soon as you spoke, head bowed as she left which was just another example of the mental state she was in. It concerned you, both of them concerned you, and it took everything within you to keep a frown off your face at the ache you felt in your chest as a result of the situation you were faced with. Almost all your questions were solved when you grabbed the thermometer from the first aid box in one of the kitchen cupboards and found that Anaís had a temperature. 

You rushed to fix her a bowl of cereal, all care for what she ate out the window, so that you could give her some medicine as soon as possible. She ate some of it, albeit reluctantly with a bit of defiance, but enough that satisfied you for the night. Leaving the mess for later, you cuddled your daughter close to you as you headed upstairs to where Alexia had a bath ready and waiting. The brunette sat on the edge of it, hand dipped into the water to check it was just right, before she turned the taps off and dried her fingertips on her shirt.

“Ready?” You hummed quietly, her jumping a little and standing abruptly, turning around to face you. 

Her face was red, much alike Anaís’, and it seemed her emotions were still overwhelming her. She gave a quick nod, before mumbling something about going downstairs to clean up and going to rush past you. You, on the other hand, were having none of it.

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey.” You reached a hand out to carefully grab her wrist, Alexia not putting up a fight as you did so and stopping in her step. You turned her to face you, but she didn’t look at you. So you dropped her hand and raised your own to her cheek, a tender touch that had her inhaling sharply at the softness of it. “She’s okay, she’s eaten now and she’s calm, she had a temperature so I ga-”

“She had a temperature? But I checked twice today?” Alexia cut you off in alarm. Immediately, she put the back of her hand on Anaís’ back under her shirt to find her skin was running hot. “I checked twice, this morning and only a couple hours ago, it was normal, I sw-”

“I know, I know. It must have only come on in the last hour or so, but she was probably feeling unwell all throughout the day. She’s had some medicine, she’ll start feeling better any time now. Don’t worry about it, Ale. Everything is alright. I’m gonna bath her and put her to bed, I’ll come find you after and we can talk, okay?” It seemed the midfielder forewent a reply because she wasn’t sure if it were words or sobs that would come out, so she nodded once more, avoiding your gaze. You leaned up and kissed her forehead, smiling sadly at the tears drowning her eyes. “I love you. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”

Later on, with Anaís fast asleep tucked up in bed, it taking no time at all for her to doze off, you came downstairs to total silence. The kitchen and lounge, which were both once a mess, were spotless. The horrors of the day had been erased, and Alexia was nowhere to be found. 

Through the window, you could see evening turn to dusk with the sky painted a deep orange that faded into light blue. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, only a small crescent moon and trails from planes that’d flown overhead. And there, staring at the view of the city from the backyard of your home, was the one person you were looking for. 

Alexia was sat on the edge of the stone wall where patio stones turned to grass, leaning back on her hands that rested on the bricks, shoulders shuddering infrequently with her sporadic breaths. Without being clued up yet on exactly what had occurred whilst you were away, you knew it’d been a bad day for her as a parent. You felt for her, heart a little broken at the psychologically wrecked version of her you’d come home to. You’d been in her place a number of times, and she never failed at making you feel invincible with her love and care afterwards, no matter how far you’d spiralled down. Tonight, she needed you.

The defeated brunette definitely would have heard you open and close the door, as well as your footsteps, though she gave no reaction to either. You wandered over, rounding the wall and sitting beside her. You looked at her, really looked at her, but she kept her eyes averted, glancing at everything apart from you. Her knee was bouncing, her posture was tense, and there was still a steady stream of tears down her cheeks that she ignored. You didn’t want to overwhelm her, or worsen her mood, so all you did then was rest a hand on her thigh, and give her some time to decompress a little. Or, so you thought.

“I don’t know what went so wrong today. I don’t know what I did.” She started to ramble quickly, sniffling and stumbling over her words with her shoulders up to her ears in a shrug as she tried to defend herself to you. But she didn’t need to defend herself, you didn’t blame her for a thing. “I-I got the thermometer out and checked her twice, it was normal, it was fine. I didn’t recognise she was… she was ill. She was sick all day because of… because of m-me.” 

As she spoke, it sounded like she was about to break. It’d been so long since you’d heard her like that.

“Ale, she’s fine. She won’t even remember today when she wakes up in the morning, tomorrow is a new day and-”

“Do you think I’m a bad parent?” The question she cut you off shocked you, and it took a second for it to register before you frowned at her and squeezed her knee.

“Alexia, of course I d-” She stood abruptly, shaking her head incessantly. 

“No, because I missed so many signs today, it’s my fault she had such a bad day. I messed up so much I just didn’t get anything right, I would understand if y-”

You got up and stood in front of her, hands on her face to stop her panicking and to ground her. Still, she refused to meet your eye, but you gave her a soft yet firm look.

“I don’t, Alexia, I never could.” 

She nodded in response before she properly processed your words, and when the realisation did settle in, that’s when she cracked. Her forehead fell to your shoulder and her hands linked loosely around your waist, leaning into you as sobs ripped out from her. You wrapped your arms around her tightly, turning your head a little to leave a few kisses on her cheek every now and then as she cried, a reminder you were there for her. One of your hands rubbed up and down her back comfortingly as she let out all the pent up emotions into your shoulder. You didn’t move. You stayed right there for her.

“Anaís is okay, you’re okay. Everything is okay, Alexia, I promise. It’s just a bad day.” You whispered as she began to calm, hand still moving up and down, just slower but still reassuring. “She’ll go to Eli’s like normal if she’s well enough tomorrow, and she’ll have the best day there because you know she’ll get treated like a princess. You didn’t miss anything because there were no signs to miss, you said it yourself. You checked, twice, like any good and loving parent would, and nothing concerning came up. That’s not your fault.”

There was a minute nod against you, and you’d take that for now. You turned again to kiss her cheek, lingering for longer and hugging her impossibly tighter after. A minute or so later, she leaned back in your hold but you didn’t let go for a second, and she wiped her eyes on the sleeve of the jumper she’d changed into at some point whilst you dealt with Anaís. Then, finally, she met your gaze, defeat and exhaustion along with some taunting guilt that still hovered around, all present in her red, puffy eyes. 

“Is she upset or, maybe, angry? At me?” She asked cautiously, to which you smiled and shook your head with a click of your tongue.

“She’s your daughter, she doesn’t get angry at the people she loves. Especially not her Mami.” You answered with ease, with certainty. Even though you hadn’t outright asked Anaís how she felt about the day, you knew one thing and that was she didn’t feel any of those things towards Alexia. Never could.

“She was earlier. For most of the day.” Alexia feebly argued.

“No, she’s ill, and as a small toddler in such a big, scary world, she doesn’t know what to do when she feels like that.” You reassured her, reaching a hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair that had fallen from her bun back behind her ear. “Don’t blame yourself anymore, please. Because Anaís and I don’t, nobody does. Tell that huge brain of yours to shut up for once.” 

She let out a quiet chuckle, and though you’d heard that sound a thousand times before, it was music to your ears then, no less than it was the first time you heard it. Walking to your table on your first date, Alexia close behind you with her hand on your back, you making a stupid comment about how overly hard the waiter was trying to impress your date, clearly having recognised her, and her softly chuckling down your ear. You shivered then at the sound, and you shivered there, in the backyard of your shared home, your daughter asleep inside and attempts for a second child actively in progress. But the shiver this time was, rather unfortunately and not so romantically, due to the chill of the evening as the sun bid its goodbye with the horizon.

“I make no promises.” Alexia murmured, resting her forehead against yours and letting her eyes fall shut. 

You smiled, noticing the difference in her already compared to when you first stepped outside, and tilted your head a bit to leave a kiss to her lips. It caught her by surprise, and she opened her eyes again to find you, the love of her life, gazing at her with all the love you had to give and more, not a single part of you believing the doubts that weighed her down. It helped her to remember what she did everything for and why; for her family. Always. You, Anaís, and any future children if the pair of you were to be so lucky. A bad day was a drop in the ocean, it was an ounce of misfortune compared to the pricelessness of your lives. It would stick in her mind for a little while, but how could she focus on that when she lived a dream everyday. 

—

Your fortune only grew when you fell pregnant with your third child after months of failed IVF attempts – a son, named Oriol, who was the mirror of his older sister, something that only became more and more true as he grew up. Anaís flourished in her role, absolutely infatuated with her baby brother and desperate to do anything to help her parents whenever she could. For some time, the four of you lived in a perfect little bubble of pure bliss. All the talk about how difficult it was going from one child to two seemed far away, everyday was… perfect. 

You were never much of a morning person before becoming a parent, but having two children didn’t really leave you much of a choice but to become one. Alexia had been, and she often took those early sunrise shifts because she treasured them. When Anaís was a baby that didn’t have the boundless energy of a toddler, she was always more than happy to sit in her Mami’s arms as she woke up. On warmer mornings, they’d spend the time outside, until winter settled in and made that prospect daunting, Alexia fearing her daughter’s fingers and toes might drop off in only a few minutes of being out in the cold. 

Then Oriol came along, and mornings turned into a bit of a handful for one parent to handle. Especially because Anaís did possess an unreal amount of giddiness that was difficult to juggle with a grouchy newborn. So the pair of you found a system, a routine that quickly became something that you treasured.

Most days it was a toss up between which child would wake up first, but they usually stirred at the same time, a blessing in disguise most days. On some occasions, you’d get up and go for a walk, or out for breakfast, or to a family member’s house. But other times, of which were your favourite, you’d have breakfast in bed together, a lazy start to the day. They were a rarity more than others, with Alexia in and out of the city and the country, so you never took them for granted.

Perfect, until you went back to work, many months down the line, just as the intensity of Alexia’s football season picked up, and suddenly everything you thought you knew just… disappeared. Sure, she’d stepped away from the national team when Anaís was around a year old, but that never lightened the load of club football, which still caught you off guard every year, especially your first as a parent of two. Going from seeing Alexia nearly everyday, spending hours with her, to barely having her in one place for too long as you juggled work was more difficult than you expected. 

Even on the days she was in Barcelona, there was training and media commitments and sponsorship shoots and meetings that kept her away. You saw her at breakfast, where she rushed out with nothing but a banana and a protein shake, not before kissing your cheek and your children’s, and you saw her when she got home late in the evening, helping with bedtime before falling into bed with you and dozing off almost immediately. 

Before you could realise, you felt a distance growing between you. You felt disconnected from her world when normally your worlds were one and the same. She was still the perfect parent you knew her as, but that’s all she had time and energy for. The strain was becoming too much for the both of you, with two kids and workloads that had no limits. For some time, you didn’t know how to solve it. And that scared the life out of you.

Each morning you dropped off your children at Eli’s house, which was only three days a week as the rest you worked when you had the chance to at home, she could see the stress everything was causing you grow more every time you visited her. On the rare occasion she saw her daughter, she saw the same burden on her shoulders too. The wiser woman couldn’t let it go on any longer; one morning, she ordered that you came in and sat down with her for coffee. She was a persuasive woman, even as you argued about being late for work, she waved you off and gently took hold of your hand to lead you inside. With Oriol in one arm, resting on her hip, she moved around her kitchen with an effortlessness you dreamed of having. 

Everything took so much energy, so much mental strength, a piece of your resolve was chipped away everyday. It seemed things had gotten too much, your resolve becoming too weak, because when Eli set down your coffee in front of you, you were already in bits. All it took was the hug she gave for you to fall apart into her arms. 

After that, you took the day off work. You sat and listened, your son offering you a slice of normality, of comfort, as he slept in your arms whilst Eli gave every bit of advice she had to give. If it wasn’t for her, you dreaded to think of how far things might have gone before either you or Alexia fell apart, and if that might have manifested as a breakdown or a show of anger that could have done irreparable damage. But as you listened to her mother, you knew where Alexia got her parenting skills from, where she got her fierce care and compassion from. You were incredibly grateful for the both of them.

Eli demanded that, when Alexia got home from her game later that evening, you were to sit down and speak with her. You tried to argue that the brunette would be tired and a conversation like that was the last thing she would want to do, but you lost that fight. The older woman had you under strict instruction to get her to do it anyway, and if she didn’t, she had Eli’s wrath to deal with the next day.

Your children’s most beloved grandparent wasn’t the only saving grace of that particularly difficult period of time; the aforementioned game Alexia had that same night ended in a loss. And the effect it had on her was the final straw for her. Even without the push from her mother, the second she walked in to find you waiting at the door for her, she made it known that she couldn’t go on any longer the way you two were. She made it known by collapsing into your arms with ease, and it felt like decades since you last hugged her, properly. 

That night, you spent hours on the sofa, limbs entangled and tears soaking each other’s t-shirts, talking about how difficult things had been and how you could get past them. It wasn’t easy, it couldn’t be further from that description. There were things Alexia said that made you want to scream, shout, cry, argue about, and vice versa. Yet, you worked past it. By the time morning came, you were both fast asleep on the couch still, as close as you could where you held each other, not even stirring at the return of your children after their impromptu night at their abuela’s house, until Anaís snatched a crayon away from Oriol’s teething mouth which resulted in him letting out a piercing cry, abruptly waking the both of you.

This blip, as difficult and unbearable as it was at the time, was necessary for your relationship. It taught you things about each other that set you up for the rest of your lives together. 

An unspoken acknowledgement formed that presented itself when brief periods of busyness happened again; you learned to love each other quietly in those moments, ready to love loudly again when the storm passed. Your devotion to one another could be found in the quiet moments, like shared glances across the dinner table over breakfast and lingering touches as you passed each other whilst getting your children ready for the day. It could be found in notes slipped into the other’s coat pocket, coming home with flowers after a trip to the supermarket, guilty pleasure treats hidden in the cupboard away from the sweet tooth habits of your children that they’d definitely picked up from their Mami. 

There was an underlying agreement that whenever there was a hard moment, a disagreement, frustration at each other or the defiant behaviours from Anaís and Oriol, that you can still go to each other no matter what. Even if things went too far, you’d still end the night in each other’s arms, whether you were on speaking terms, one giving the other the silent treatment, or simply too tired to talk. And that might be the thing you treasure most about your relationship.

All these things were evident in the next large obstacle that fell before you both. 

Oriol was not quite the social butterfly as his sister had always naturally been. Nursery, to him, was torture. Being away from his family, with people he didn’t know? It was the scariest thing he’d ever had to face in the nearly three years of his life. 

The first day that you and Alexia dropped him off there, only for an hour to get him adjusted, it couldn’t have gone any worse. The ordeal left you both in tears as Alexia drove you home silently. The brunette had to stand beside you and watch as they pulled your son out of your arms, him clinging onto you desperately as the most heartbreaking sobs you’d heard in your life ripped through him. And that had been after the two of you spent half an hour showing him around and playing with him, as well as trying to leave quietly before his cries brought you running right back. 

Every part of you screamed to take him home, to never step foot near a nursery again, because you couldn’t cope with the fear and anxiety he was feeling. It hurt, physically hurt. Your heart clenched so tightly each time, you swore if his scrikes were a decibel higher, you’d go into cardiac arrest. But that wasn’t realistic, he had to go at some point and taking him home to stop that would only delay the inevitable. You just didn’t know it would be so hard.

Anaís wasn’t at all like that; the second she step foot in the small classroom, saw all the toys she could play with, saw the mud kitchen and the sand pit and the water pit, all the bikes and scooters she could ride out on the playground, it was more of a challenge to get her to leave than stay. Oriol though, he despised it.

Three days in a row, you arrived back at home with a lump in your throat and remnants of your son’s pain on you in the form of the tear drops that dotted your jumper, and you couldn’t take it. Alexia closed the door behind you both, and you immediately broke down crying at the thought of him back there, all alone, wondering why his parents had taken him to such a terrible place and left him there.

“We, we can’t take him there anymore, Ale, h-he hates it so much.” You sobbed, eyes closed as you pictured his little face, his eyes filled with betrayal, and his wobbling bottom lip when he realised you were just going to walk out on him again.

“We have to, amor, you know this.” Alexia sighed sadly, not frustrated with you, instead equally as torn up about it. 

“Alexia, he hates it! We’re his parents, we’re not meant to do this to him, we can’t keep putting him through this!” 

With a frown on her face as she tried to suppress her own emotions, she headed over to you and hugged you, holding you close to her.

“Shh.” She shushed you gently, but it had the opposite effect. You pushed away from her, the brunette stumbling backwards slightly and having to catch herself with a hand on the drawers behind. 

“No, why are you okay with this? You’re not letting anything on, why aren’t you as affected as I am?” You accused, and she had to take a breath to keep a cool head. 

This wasn’t you talking, it was your concern. It was a momentary blip that happened to the both of you every now and then. She recognised it instantly, two kids did that to her.

“We’re not fighting about this, mi amor. I’m not fighting you.” Alexia told you in a soft, calming tone. You raked your hand through your hair and huffed, not even sure why you were starting on her like that. Of course she felt just as guilty and afraid as you. “We have to do this now, at some point, otherwise we will never get him into school anyway. He will get used to it, I know he will. But it’s hard now, it’s so hard.” 

“So hard.” You whimpered, putting your head in your hands as your cries picked up again. Alexia stepped closer, her arms around you again as you buried your face into her chest.

“We’ll get him through it. I know we will. He’ll love it before you know it.” She whispered, her comforting words beginning to crack through the walls of panic that surrounded your mind, even if she didn’t know if what she was saying would become true.

The thing was, it only got tougher. Everyday he spent longer there, until you dropped him off as he sobbed for you and there wasn’t anything you could do but leave him there until mid-afternoon to pick him up. It was a wonder you got any work done during that time because all you could see was the heartbreak on his face every time you walked out of his classroom. And there were numerous occasions after that one day with Alexia where the two of you clashed over it, some worse than others. Her lack of expression about the situation grated on you, as if she didn’t care, until you stepped back and gained rationality and realised she was just trying to be strong for you.

But then, your son surprised you. One of the best surprises, one of the most relieving.

After another difficult day of dealing with his meltdowns before nursery and being extremely distracted at work, you decided to walk to pick him up. Alexia’s training had run late, something she was frustrated and a little upset with (not that she’d admit that to you) because it put her head at peace to have her son back in her sight, her arms, after seeing him so worked up in the morning. She really kept quiet about it, she let the guilt eat away at her silently rather than adding to the things you were feeling. When she was at home, she occupied herself with the most unnecessary things, because it distracted her from how the silence of the house exaggerated the cries that echoed around her mind whilst Oriol was away. Picking him up from nursery and seeing the way he ran towards you both was the only thing that made it feel worth it.

You had all the faith in the world in your son, like any parent should towards their child. Maybe it was wrong to feel so shocked, but that was the last thing on your mind when you arrived at his classroom door, saw the way he grinned from ear to ear as he played with two other boys, and laughed heartily at something one of them did. You’d seen him playing other times, though he didn’t seem so bright and happy like he did then. It brought tears to your eyes, for all the right reasons this time.

“He has had a much better day today. He is adjusting now.” One of his teachers told you when she came over, a warm smile on her face. “I know it has been hard for you and your partner seeing him struggle every morning, but today we have noticed a big difference. I think he’s happy.”

When she saw your reaction of tears of euphoria, she brought you in for a brief, comforting hug. It set in then, that as horribly difficult and unbearable as it had been, it was worth it. You did the right thing. All you could wish for in that moment was to have Alexia there with you.

Your next best bet was meeting her at training. It wasn’t too far from the nursery, and with Oriol being in such an upbeat mood, you decided you would walk there with him. Because you have to take care of the person you love just as much as your children. And it felt like, with Oriol finally happy with the day he’d had, you could turn your attention to Alexia, and pour all the love back into your relationship which had been a little neglected during that time.

You would have done anything to make the experience better for your young son from the get-go, but all the trials and tribulations just made it sweeter. The whole walk, he rambled endlessly about what he did that day. He remembered every single detail about the friends he had made, what games they played, the size of the train line they’d built around the whole classroom; you hadn’t ever seen such elation on his face as he relayed it all to you. Then he said–

“I can’t wait to go back tomorrow.” 

Each time he came home, the first thing he talked about was how much he didn’t want to go back the next day. Honestly, you weren’t sure how you didn’t break down crying on the spot. But with his tiny dinosaur bag hanging off one of your shoulders, his hand in yours, and tears burning your eyes, you couldn’t recall a better feeling whilst being his parent. All you could do was march down the streets of your newfound home and think of what the love of your life’s reaction would be.

It wasn’t just her though, it was all her teammates too, who filed into the locker room each with equally wide smiles at the surprise of seeing you both there. Oriol went a little shy in your arms, as you would expect, but he relished in the proud reactions each person gave when you told them about the successful day he’d had. Irene especially, who could have passed as Oriol’s third parent when she looked as if she could cry from pride at the news. Alexia, of course, was the last one in. 

The others left after changing, heading home after quick showers, all whilst Alexia lingered outside with a few members of staff, talking away like she always did about football. Thankfully though, to put you out of your misery, one of them that stayed behind with you shouted her in under the guise of physio, even though she was apparently perfectly fine. You could hear her grumbling about it as she came closer, making you laugh, as you sat at her cubby whilst your son wandered around the room, babbling to himself and messing with things he probably shouldn’t. 

Then she walked in, head still down, not noticing you both until Oriol’s squeal had her eyes snapping up.

“Wha–? What are you doing here?” The brunette broke out into one of the happiest, all-consuming smiles you’d ever seen her do, crouching down to her son’s height as he ran over as fast as he could waddle. She laughed giddily as he wrapped his little arms around her neck, lifting him up and hugging him tightly. 

“Oriol, why don’t you tell Mami about your day?” You prompted him, watching his face light up even more as he leaned back in Alexia’s hold so he could see her. 

“I loved it!” He beamed, a bright grin on his lips, one you hadn’t seen in so long. 

Alexia turned to you briefly as he started rambling, speaking a whole load of nothing initially as he couldn’t contain himself with his babbling. Her expression was one of astonishment, but also the most relief you had ever seen a human possess. There was a gloss to her eye that shone brightly in the fluorescent light of the locker room, one she tried to blink away when she turned back to her son.

He went on and on, just like he did to you, stuttering due to his mind working faster than his mouth, and diving in and out of a hundred stories at once. As he did so, Alexia had one hand splayed out across his back, rubbing up and down or in circles whilst holding him up with her other arm. Her eyes were wide as she listened to each and every detail he revealed, so much giddiness radiating off of him, it was hard to keep up.

“And-and then, then we played in the water and I g-got water on my jumper, but it was okay, ‘cause the teacher made it not wet again, that was good ‘cause I got cold, and then Pau finded more train pieces, so we made it more long, and-”

“Breathe, mister.” Alexia laughed, brushing back his wispy brown hair and stroking his cheek with her thumb as he inhaled dramatically. “Sounds like the best day!”

“I can’t wait to go back tomorrow!” He kicked his legs as he spoke, almost hitting Alexia in the stomach, but that was the last thing on her mind. All she could focus on were the words you got stuck on earlier too.

“You want to go back?” She asked softly, eyes darting all over his face to find a hint of the dread he had been weighed down by since starting nursery.

“Sí! Ahora!” He answered without a millisecond of hesitation, before descending into unorganised chatter.

“I am so proud of you.” She interrupted him a moment later, scattering kisses all over his face that had him squealing and pushing her away with his small hands. “I love you.”

“I love you too!” Oriol shrieked when more were pressed against his cheek. “Mama said I can have churros for dinner.” 

“Really?” Alexia raised an eyebrow as she looked at you, waving you over. When you were close enough, she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and kissed your cheek, this time a lot more civilly. “Well, I can’t disagree with that. I think you deserve all the churros we can find in Barcelona.”

The three of you laughed together, for the first time in a while, not burdened by the thought of tomorrow. No, instead, he couldn’t wait for it. Perhaps more excited for it then his churros, and that was no easy feat. What more could you ask for, other than the unbridled joy of your child, even if that was with chocolate spilled onto any surface and material he could find?

And just like any other time that felt uncertain, difficult, borderline end of the world, Alexia was there with you through it all. Steady. Calm when you weren’t. Ready to celebrate you when you needed it most. The best part was, you could tell she thought the same about you. That was a compliment you couldn’t get over. Even being a parent, having two lives depend on you, knowing that you were the person that the one you loved most went to for everything and anything, it was still something you wore like a medal. You loved being her person, loved building a life with her. Loved everything to do with her, even all the parts of her that aggravated to your wits end. You couldn’t get enough of her. 

—

Fights were inevitable. In any and all relationships, they were an impossible thing to avoid. It was rare, so rare, for you and Alexia to have ones that lasted longer than even a few hours. Yet, as was reality, there were one or two that snuck in which uprooted everything, and it was an even tougher mountain to get over when kids were involved.

With their tiny, developing, and unsuspecting brains, it often went under the radar the utter scale of things they picked up on. And you weren’t sure what was in Alexia’s eggs, but your two children ended up growing into the most emotionally mature seven year old and three year old the world had ever seen. No amount of hushed whispers and avoided eye contact could get past them; as a result of the two of you being so openly happy and in love, the second something was amiss, they could just sense it in the air somehow. It blew your mind, plain and simple. So no matter how hard you tried to keep your arguments separate from their little worlds, they always knew anyway. 

You and Alexia had your own stresses you were dealing with, you with your job and Alexia with hers, with the addition of bad news from family that weighed down on the both of you. Those things, as much as you tried to keep them on the down-low and deal with them individually, they soon became too heavy for the burdens to not be shared. But neither of you recognised that. They built and built and built, until everything came crashing down around you. 

First, it started with furrowed eyebrows and heavy sighs from Alexia as she moved around the kitchen like everything in her way was merely an inconvenience. Not you, not her children, rather the mess that had been left behind as you attempted to keep two hyperactive kids on their school breaks entertained for the fourth day they had off, which was a challenge and a half. You hadn’t had time to clean up after them as they went through the house like a tornado or a bull in a fine China shop, hoping they could keep their giddiness contained enough so that you didn’t spend your evening in the emergency waiting room at the nearby hospital. 

Whether Alexia was directing her passive aggressive frustration at you or not, you took it that way regardless. She wasn’t the one that’d had to spend the day chasing after Anaís and Oriol, she’d had a fairly inconspicuous schedule of training and some media interviews and shoots. What you didn’t know, however, was the onslaught of questions she had received about her form which had taken a slight dip in the past few games, as well as the carefully worded questions about Barcelona’s future and her future too, a topic journalists ran with the second she didn’t do well in a game. She loathed the doubts of her ability just because she was a mother and older than her peers, she knew she was still capable, and perfection was expected of her when perfection wasn’t possible for anyone.

Looking back, you knew it was immature, but you made a stupid passing comment anyway about her behaviour since she’d come home. The carelessness in the way she kicked her shoes off at the door and haphazardly left her bag beside it, the theatrics as she cleaned the kitchen, and the aversion she had to even looking at you. One sentence from you was all it took for the house to burst into flames. And with your children outside in the garden doing whatever they were doing, neither of you had no qualms raising your voices at each other.

In only a matter of minutes, there were tears streaking down your face and Alexia’s too. You took yourself away from the situation, unable to bear the venomous way the one surefire person on your team was talking to you, slamming the bedroom door shut behind you for good measure. Alexia, on the other hand, gripped the edge of the counter and bowed her head, teardrops falling onto the granite as she squeezed her eyes shut to try, and fail, at keeping them in. 

Meanwhile, outside, Anaís and Oriol found themselves rooted to the spot for the whole duration of the short fight they heard indoors. They couldn’t make out the words, slightly intelligible as they were muffled by the closed doors and windows of the house, but the damage was already done. Oriol turned to Anaís with a wobbling lower lip first, his little heart beating rapidly at the scary situation he was now presented with. Anaís noticed, and shook the fear off her shoulders before hastily walking over to him. With a determined face, her eyebrows pressed down into a scowl much alike her mother during the most intense game of her life, she planted her hands on her brother’s shoulders and, before speaking her plan, quickly kissed his forehead which calmed his anxiety just a little.

“I go check on Mama, you go see Mami. Vale?” She addressed him calmly, yet like she knew exactly what she was doing, which reassured him. Oriol thought of his big sister as someone he looked up to, he wanted to be her, he admired her. So he stood taller, puffed his chest out, took a deep breath, and nodded like he’d been handed a military mission that was due to save the world. Still, Anaís could spot the worry in his eyes. “It will be okay, Oriol. Promise!”

She removed one of her hands and held out her pinky for him. Without a shred of hesitation, he linked his own with hers and they both kissed their knuckles, just like they’d seen their Mami do with her goalkeeper teammate. Then, they marched inside, Anaís leading Oriol of course, making their way to their designated locations. Just before the door into the kitchen, the brunette girl turned back to her younger brother and gave him a reassuring smile. He smiled back, not quite as sure as hers, but confident enough that she kissed his forehead again before turning and running up the stairs. 

Oriol then turned to face the open doorway where he could see his Mami, his strong and dependent and steady parent, stood with her shoulders shaking as she cried silently. He found himself frowning, his bottom lip threatening to quiver again, before he remembered the task at hand and marched forwards towards her with a confidence he didn’t have.

“Mami?” He said gently, flinching a little at the speed Alexia whipped around to look at him whilst wiping her tears. It was futile to do so, with her already puffy eyes and red cheeks as more fell immediately. 

“Hola, mi príncipe.” The midfielder replied, voice cracking as she choked down her sobs at the flurry of emotions drowning her in that moment.

“Qué pasa?” He asked, stepping closer to her and reaching out his hand for her to take. She did, squeezing his and finding comfort in the soft weight of it in her hold. 

“Nothing.” Her natural reaction was to shrug it off, but it wasn’t right. One look at his face, the depth of his concern far too deep for a boy his age, told her she should be as honest as she could whilst still protecting him.  That was her job after all. “I am a little sad, Oriol. I’m sad because your Mama is sad too. We said some silly things to each other. But it is okay, we are allowed to be sad. I… I…” 

Her emotions got the better of her again, tears dripping off her cheeks and dampening her t-shirt as her son stood and watched. He fumbled internally for a moment, growing upset at the sight of his normally strong and steady Mami, and thinking hard on what she normally does when he cried. 

She hugged him, until he stopped, and long after that. So that’s what he did.

He stepped forward, slipped his hand out of hers, and wrapped his arms around her thigh. She wiped her eyes so she could see clearly and looked down, seeing the curiosity on his face of if he’d done the right thing or not. God, if he only knew. 

Alexia leaned down, hooking her hands under his arms, gently pulled him away, before sliding down to sit back against the cabinet and bringing him back into her. She crossed her legs and placed Oriol in the gap left, before wrapping her arms around him this time, hugging him as tight as she could without hurting him or scaring him off. He hugged her back, a proud smile on his face that he’d got it right. 

What was occurring upstairs, however, was a different story. 

Anaís crept in with the subtlety of a marching band, trying to read the room before she went ahead with Plan A, and if necessary, she would switch to a gentler approach of Plan B. She found you lay in bed, crying, but trying to hide your face from your daughter due to the avalanche of emotions you were experiencing. However, when you factored in who she got her genes from, you should have known better. 

“Excuse me.” The younger girl started, standing beside your bed with her hands on her hip and a look on her face that was all too familiar to one the person that caused this would make. It made you laugh, quietly, but also cry a bit more. So Anaís softened, moving to sit on the side of the bed and taking hold of your hand. “Are you okay?”

“I will be.” You sniffled, an ever so dramatic statement. Anaís looked at you skeptically, like she didn’t quite trust you. “Mami said some mean things to me.”

Her face changed then, an obvious one that not even the most oblivious person could miss. 

“Did you say some mean things to Mami too?” 

Your silence, paired with the sheepish look on your face at being caught out by a seven year old was more than enough for her.

“That’s not fair, Mama! God, you are both so stupid.” She groaned, slapping a hand over her eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume she was seventeen.

“Excuse me!” You scolded lightly, with no real threat behind it. 

Anaís sighed disapprovingly, a shake of her head to tie off the performance, before laying down next to you. She copied your position, pausing for a moment as she thought of what to do with herself, before laying an arm across your waist like she had seen Alexia do sometimes. You smiled at her, and copied her, which she then replied with an expression that mirrored yours.

“You shouldn’t argue with Mami. It makes you both sad.” Anaís commented, one of those things that a kid says that pulls at every heart string you have. 

“I know. But it happens sometimes, it shouldn’t, but it does. Adults argue over big things, like you and Oriol argue over who gets a piggyback first.” Strangely, her eyes lit up at that.

“You were arguing about piggybacks?!” She exclaimed like it was the most exciting prospect in the world. You laughed loudly, one that cleared the fog a bit and brightened your mood.

“No, god no. Something a bit more adult than piggybacks unfortunately. Really boring, nowhere near as exciting.”

“Well, if it was boring, then why did you argue? If you’re going to argue, it should be over something interesting at least. Like piggybacks.” You smiled in amusement, leaning forward to kiss your daughter’s forehead. Your children had a marvellous habit at making you indescribably happy at any given moment. 

“You make a good point, Anaís. Very good.” 

“Exactly. So why would you be mean! You love each other!” She fought her point again. If only things were so simple. But then again, maybe they are, when you look at it from a different perspective. 

Was there any real reason for you and Alexia to argue then like you did? You could hardly even remember how it started beyond a few passive aggressive sighs and slams of cupboards and an unnecessary jab. And those were really ridiculous reasons to start a fight. So maybe it was that simple.

“If I bring Mami upstairs, will you say sorry to each other?” Anaís wondered. It was then that you realised, beyond her joking nature, this whole thing had gotten to her quite a bit. Her and Oriol hadn’t ever really witnessed such a big blow-up like this before. You felt guilty for it, immeasurably so. 

“Only if she says sorry to me first.” You joked, holding back a laugh when Anaís rolled her eyes again. “Fine. Go get her.”

It wasn’t your kids’ job to be the emotionally wise ones of the house. It certainly wasn’t their job to fix adult arguments. That was supposed to be your responsibility, as well as Alexia’s, and you had failed. You were just glad your children had the maturity you momentarily lacked to provide some much needed clarity (and humour) to a situation that could have ended up worse.

“Mami, go upstairs. Now.” Anaís demanded as she stepped into the kitchen. 

Oriol was in Alexia’s lap then, sat on her thigh as he fidgeted with her wedding ring whilst they spoke quietly. The older woman’s tears had dried up, but the heartbreak on her face was still evident. Oriol, once he’d spotted Anaís, ditched Alexia and went over to his sister instead. That left the brunette on the floor of her kitchen, shirt damp with tear splotches, eyes red and ego bruised. But per her daughter’s demand, she nodded, got up off the floor, and left the kitchen, not before leaving kisses to their temples.

With a knuckle, she knocked on the bedroom door delicately, then walked in afterwards. Before the door had even closed behind her, there were two eavesdroppers waiting behind the corner of the wall for her to go in so that they could wait at the door. If Alexia’s attention wasn’t on you, and vice versa, you both would have heard the quiet thump of footsteps that stopped just outside of the room.

“I… was sent in by a very angry seven year old.” Alexia started, unsure what to do or say. You rolled onto your back and sat up against the headboard, hands fiddling with the corner of the blanket.

“I was lectured by a very angry seven year old.” You replied, the slightest hint of a smile on the midfielder’s face that spread to your face not long after. “I think they formed a coup against us.”

“I think they did.” Alexia agreed, moving away from the door and taking a seat on the bed in front of you, crossing her legs again. 

Neither of you said anything for a moment or two, and Oriol let out a frustrated huff outside the bedroom that Anaís shushed him for. Still, the two of you didn’t catch it. Alexia’s hand reached out to trace her fingertip over the pattern on the duvet below you both, a silent offering. Your hand landed in front of hers, accepting it. She linked your fingers together then, some of the pressure lifting from her chest as she squeezed your hand.

“I’m sorry. For saying what I said. And starting an argument.” You went first, knowing that you should, since you were the one that started it and let it descend into something it didn’t need to be.

“I’m sorry too. I… it was a bit stupid, wasn’t it?” Alexia grimaced, making you giggle just a little, just quietly. But it was enough for her.

“It was. We’re both a bit stupid sometimes. But thank god we’ve got two smart kids, right? Don’t know how that happened.” You teased back, this time the pair of you laughing. 

“Oriol hugged my leg and I think it made me cry even more.” You smiled sadly at that, shame crawling in that he felt the need to do that. All you could think was that he shouldn’t have had to do that.

“Anaís actually called us stupid too. Even they recognised it before we did.” You admitted with a shake of your head, a sentiment Alexia shared. Then it fell silent for a moment or two, and your smile fell into something more downbeat. “I think we need to be parents for a little while before we can sort us out. They shouldn’t have to do this, Ale. We… failed.” 

Alexia frowned deeply, one that wrinkled her forehead so intensely it was a wonder they didn’t stick. 

“We’re allowed to mess up sometimes, amor. They’re kids, they don’t expect perfection from us even if they don’t realise it. They want us to be okay, I don’t think that means we failed.” Alexia pointed out. She could see you arguing in your mind with yourself about it afterwards. “I hate that they saw it and felt like they had to fix it, I hate that too, don’t think I don’t. But it’s not a failure. We’re still here, they’re sat outside the door waiting for us, we’re all okay. They know they argue from time to time, but they still love each other. It’s no different for us.”

“I just…” You breathed out shakily, swallowed hard, and dropped your voice to a mumble. “I don’t want them to think this is what love looks like.”

The brunette softened then, immediately. She shuffled closer to you, sitting at your side, her body positioned towards yours, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders as she leaned her forehead against yours. 

“They know what love looks like. They see it between us everyday. They will remember this, but they will remember the rest too. Like me kissing your cheek and their cheeks before I leave in the morning, how ‘I love you’ is the last thing we all say at night. They know there is so much more to love, but… arguing is sometimes a part of it too. Maybe it just makes it a bit more real for them, even if we want to protect them from this side of it.” 

Wise, as always. One of the most emotionally intelligent people you knew, even if it took a year or two for her to reach that point when you first got together. Her perspective on everything, especially since becoming a parent, had shifted. Now, in moments like this, she always knew what to say. And what a moving thing to state at a time you felt your parenthood fracture into two. With some perfectly placed words, handcrafted to a T, that crack was sealed with gold.

Later that night, she said near enough the same thing to your kids. She made it known, in easier phrases, basic enough for their age, that it wasn’t their job to uphold your relationship. They shouldn’t feel the need to fix it, that that was a mistake on your behalfs. Yet, simultaneously, she explained that instances like that happened every so often between parents, between two people that loved each other. Even though Anaís didn’t seem too pleased about that, she certainly seemed to sleep easier after it. The next morning, it was like nothing had even happened. Thank god for pancakes.

—

No matter how many years had passed, how many times Alexia had to travel for work, you never missed her any less. That surprised you, honestly. At some point along the way you thought you would get used to it, and you did, to some degree. You just got better at handling it; didn’t mean you missed her any less at all. Probably more, actually.

Since retiring from the national team, her trips away had gotten much shorter. No two or three week long camps some place in Europe, no summer-long tournaments. Just a night or two away for a game before getting the earliest flight back she could get away with. 

That meant, the first long trip in quite a while hit your family harder than expected. Not in a way that was hard or difficult, there was a routine for it now. But there was just something missing from your home, the atmosphere of it changed. Ten video calls a day couldn’t change that. All that mattered, to you and your children, was having her back. Having her presence, her energy, her love, in the house again. 

When she first mentioned a two week pre-season camp in Mexico, you already felt that uncomfortable twist in your stomach just at the idea of it. There was a weight behind your eyes too, not quite tears, just a heaviness, like your body was already bracing for her absence. Those two feelings paled in comparison to what it was like as you stood on your doorstep, Anaís and Oriol beside you, watching her get into a taxi with her suitcases. The kids had been quiet for the rest of the day, missing her, not knowing what to do with the love they had for her without having a place for it to go. 

The morning before her planned flight back home, you woke up to a notification from her. No text, just a screenshot. A confirmation of a new plane ticket, due to land in Barcelona that night. The excitement that energised you for the rest of the day was boundless, much to your childrens’ confusion. Due to the very late hour of her arrival compared to their bedtimes, you didn’t want to tell them about it, apart from that the next time they woke up, she would be home. And that was the truth, because you had no doubts that Alexia would go into their rooms to see them, maybe even let them sleep in your bed for the night. 

You were pacing in the hallway, nervously flitting from room to room, making sure it was tidy even though you’d cleaned already and done a hundred once-overs, checking your phone, as you listened out for her arrival. You felt a little ridiculous with how your breathing stuttered every time a car passed by.

And, finally, when the door lock clicked at midnight, the light fluttery feeling in your chest hit its peak, stronger than you ever remember it being.

You froze in the midst of your pacing, in the hallway as the door opened with a creak that always annoyed her, one you never fixed just for moments like this. Your hands fidgeted with the hem of your shirt as she walked in, suitcase dragging behind her, duffel bag landing with a thud beside the shoe rack. She closed the door, shoulders slumped with the exhaustion of travelling, sighed quietly, and lifted her head up at the shuffling sound she heard of your slippers against the wood slats. Then, she gave that easy, lop-sided, quirk of a smile, the one she saved just for you, and you were moving. You didn’t greet her – instead, simply wrapped your arms around her back, hers landing around your neck and pulling you closer to her, if at all possible. A second or two of silence passed, until her soft chuckle was muffled against your hair.

“You missed me?” She hummed teasingly, her voice low and scratchy with tiredness. 

“A little.” Didn’t matter what your reply was, the embarrassingly raw emotion in your tone said it all for you.

Her grin pressed into your cheek as she turned her head, forehead against your temple, like the mere contact of your skin was recharging her soul. It was, if you asked her. 

You pulled back slightly, intending on looking at her, taking in the sight of her home again, but she surged forward to kiss you, foiling your plans as she let out an almost relieved breath against your lips. Her nose brushed yours, and it wasn’t the tidiest one you’d shared, but the way her hand came up to cradle your cheek and the softness that her lips moved with against yours was more than enough. You felt at home again, which was a little silly because you weren’t the one that had left for two weeks. But it was the truth.

“Mami?” 

A sleepy voice from the top of the stairs interrupted you both, your cheeks pink but hidden by the low light of the house bar one corner lamp, the pair of you casting your eyes up to your children staring. Anaís was there, one pant leg rolled up to her knee, most of her hair falling out of her plait. Oriol stood slightly behind her, blanket in one hand and his favourite teddy in the other.

“You are meant to be asleep.” Alexia told them both with a smile, watching as their eyes widened, like they had just processed who they were talking to.

All of sudden, there were two pairs of feet racing down the stairs so fast you thought they were going to fall through them. Anaís approached her at full speed, you hardly having enough warning to move out the way of her, giving Alexia the time to greet her children and brace for impact. Oriol trailed behind a little slower, dazed and confused. He didn’t even know 00:00 existed on a clock.

“Is it morning?” He asked, blinking like he had to think about it. You laughed quietly and shook your head, though he wasn’t at all interested in you, and you couldn’t even be mad about it.

Alexia was crouched down, Anaís wrapped in one arm as she opened the other for a waddling Oriol. He dropped his belongings and walked straight into her arms, half-asleep, adorning a dopey smile when she pulled him into her. She hugged them like she hadn’t seen them in a year, which is understandable when you’re all used to a night or two away. Two weeks in comparison to a precariously built routine that hardly lasts 48 hours feels like a lifetime. 

“You’re really home?” Anaís mumbled, clutching Alexia’s jumper collar in her fist like it was half a threat and half a hope she didn’t disappear again. Oriol watched the brunette’s face keenly, waiting for her answer, like his life depended on it.

“I’m really home.” She murmured in response, kissing their foreheads one after the other. Both of them shuffled closer to her then, trying to get as close as possible, to make up for lost time.

You watched from afar, leaning against the wall, arms crossed and gazing at the reunion of your family. Anaís’ fist didn’t budge, and Oriol clung to her arm, sleepy and clingy. You saw the way Alexia adjusted her hold on him, letting him bury his face in her neck before standing with the pair of them in her arms. She turned to you, a down-turned smile on her face, one that conveyed her adoration for the two tired beings curled into her. Now that she was home, they had settled immediately. The world was back on its tilt, the house no longer felt too big, the chests no longer missing a piece. Everything was right again.

“Go put them to bed. I’ll be down here.” You told her, not wanting to take away her time with them. She nodded, a grateful look in her eye directed towards you. You met it with a smile, then watched as she walked upstairs with two dead-weight children in her arms, hardly breaking a sweat.

Sometimes it did catch you off-guard, how much you missed her when she wasn’t with you, how much you loved her even all these years later. But all you had to do was take one look at her, see the admiration in her eyes when she gazed at her children, see the warmth and wonder she greeted you with every morning, to remember what it was that had you so content in your life. Because even after so much time had passed, she still looked at you like you were the best thing that had ever happened to her.

By the time she came back down, the house was quiet again. No thumps of feet against the floor as Anaís avoided bedtime to show Alexia each and every drawing herself and Oriol had made whilst she was gone, no requests for stories through slurred voices with drooping eyelids. Just the two of you, the hum of the fridge, the flicker of the lamp in the corner, and the gentle thrill of being together again that had your heart skipping still.

“They’re bigger.” She commented as she walked in, eyes fixed solely on you where you waited for her again. She came over to you, and that same fluttery feeling from earlier returned with every step she took.

“They always are when you come back.” 

She looked at you, then squinted a little.

“You okay?” She asked. “You seem… nervous.”

You nod your head, before breaking out into quiet, disbelieving laughter.

“I just… I’m happy you’re home again. I had like… butterflies whilst waiting for you. I have them now.” You admitted, blushing at the ever-so-slightly proud smirk on her face. “It doesn’t even make sense. We’ve been together for… feels like forever. We’ve been apart so many times, for longer than this one, but… I don’t know. I always miss you when you go. Never changes.”

To your surprise, she tilted her head and smiled, before saying, “Of course it makes sense. I always miss you too, so much. I was nervous on the ride here, and walking up to the door. It took me three attempts to get the key in the door.” 

You laughed at that, openly and freely, because you could, because the love of your life was home again, in front of you, indirectly admitting that she still loved you just as much as you loved her.

“I was too nervous to even hear that.” You said, heart clenching at the soft giggle that sounded through the room as a result. 

“I have something to tell you. Something to admit.” She stated, out of nowhere. 

“What is it? Did you leave your passport in the taxi?” That was met with a roll of her eyes and a click of her tongue.

“No, idiota. Come here and I tell you.” Her hand outstretched to take yours, tugging you closer. You stumbled a little, but she caught you, of course she did. Her arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you tight to her, her chin falling to your shoulder, mouth beside your ear. “You’re my best friend.”

You laughed, again, but there were shivers down your spine that told a different story.

“You always say that.” It was true, she did. At random points, like it was a detail of her life she didn’t want to forget, yet also couldn’t believe. 

“Because you are.” She grinned, gummy and full of heart. Then a yawn broke through her romantics, delirious and exhausted giggles spilling from the both of you. “That was a long two weeks.” 

“Without your best friend?” You teased, Alexia humming her amusement.

“Sí, exactly.” She went quiet for a moment, before speaking again. “You really are, you know? I don’t say it to be… funny. I really mean it.” 

Your heart warmed, your cheeks blushed. Again. For the thousandth time since she came home.

“I know.” You whispered, leaning back to leave a kiss to her lips. She held it longer than you planned to, reminding you of exactly what you’d missed. “It was a long two weeks. House isn’t the same without you.” 

Alexia smiled again, though it was slightly fuelled with guilt. Or maybe… regret. Like travelling for football wasn’t something she wanted to do for much longer. But her reply didn’t match the look on her face.

“I hope Anaís and Oriol find someone who loves them like this someday.”

It came out of nowhere, a quiet thing, said with ease like it wasn’t the most profound thing you had ever heard her say. You sat with it for a moment, taking it in, until you realised it had stirred something within you. Not dramatic, not loud, there was no fanfare. Just… a content revelation. 

You didn’t respond initially. You only looked at her, at her profile in the low light, the tiniest quirk of her lip that was always there when she spoke to you, the ease of which her hands rested against your waist. Like they belonged, which they did.

And you thought to yourself, because it was such a profound thing to say, and it wasn’t even really about you. It was about your children and the hope that one day they’ll be loved the way you’ve been loved. Not with grand gestures, but with consistency. A soft, everyday kind of devotion. There in her arms, this revelation of yours grew. It built a home for itself in the back of your mind that won’t move for the rest of your life.

If they find this kind of love, then they’ll be okay.

Even when things get hard for them, when the world demands things you can’t protect them from, when you’re not there to guide them through it. Someone will be. Someone who chooses them over and over, like Alexia does with you. 

You leaned back forward in her arms, inviting yourself into your embrace, which she immediately accepted as her arms tightened around you. There, something within you settled, something you couldn’t quite put a finger on. But something that felt like accomplishment as a parent. 

“You loving me like you do, it’s shown them what to look for. I can’t be so scared for their future when you’ve given them that gift, Ale.” 

That time, it was her turn to be left speechless. 

Her tired mind was too exhausted and sluggish to think of a reply worthy enough to express how much that meant to her. And if she dwelled on it for too long in such a vulnerable state, she might cry. She didn’t have the energy to cry.

“We haven’t done so bad, have we.” She mumbled against your shoulder, her body instinctively letting out a sigh of relief at the comment. Almost like it was confirmation to herself that she had done what she needed to do, both as a parent and a partner. That was all she wished for. Truly.

“I think we’ve done better than we give ourselves credit for.” You hummed, Alexia huffing a breath of laughter. She was minutes away from falling asleep in your arms. 

“We need to go to bed. We’re getting too soft. They will make fun of us if they catch us.” You giggled down her ear, and it echoed in her chest. Sparked the fire there that had dimmed whilst she was gone.

“Younger us would think we’re so lame.”

“Mm, no, not lame. I think they would be proud. We have come a long way.” 

“We have.” You agreed with ease, thinking back on the years that had passed in what felt like just a blink. “But one thing has stayed the same.”

Alexia hummed curiously, eyes most definitely closed as she held you in the middle of the kitchen of the house you’d bought together, the home you’d built.

“I love you.” 

A simple statement that hadn’t missed a day of your relationship. One thing that linked the both of you, all the way back to when you were two nervous, giddy, lovesick but too scared to say so, people that had no idea what the future held. 

Still, it seemed, you were nervous, giddy and lovesick, but now a little older and not afraid to say it. Certainly not afraid to share it with your children. So maybe, on paper things had changed, but in retrospect, a lot was the same. You had grown, individually, and come together to form something that’d last long after death do you part. Your children would carry it, their children would carry it, and so on. You stayed the same people, whilst creating something bigger than the both of you without letting it affect your relationship. That was something not many people could brag about. 

You were sure that, when you were both old, in your sixties, seventies, eighties, and beyond, should life let you, that you most definitely would brag about it. Hell, Alexia already bragged about it. You couldn’t blame her; the life you had made together was the greatest achievement you would ever do. Nothing could compare.

“And I love you.” 

Nothing could compare to that either.

—

i wish i could make this twice as long, that i could include the scenes i had to cut out, and just never end this story but the woso tumblr audience nowadays unfortunately does not Iike such a thing and it would most likely get v boring (as if it isn't too long and boring already lol) there's writers out there that could convey the summary of the final scene in a third of the word count in a single scene, so yes it is unnecessarily long but🤷🏼‍♀️ it was a nice distraction writing it and i'm sad it's come to an end lol. if you got this far, thanks for sticking with it and i hope it was enjoyable <3

[moviestarmartini]

yellow flowers. — jude bellingham x gf!reader

él sabía, ella sabía y se olvidaron de sus flores amarillas.

summary: how can your relationship recover from such a serious argument the night before?

wc: 975

warnings: angst, not that much dialogue, like three words in spanish, established long-term relationship.

A/N: WHAAAAT?? GIGI POSTING TWICE IN A DAY??? its more likely than you think! thank las flores amarillas hehe.

now playing... flores amarillas from floricienta

The fight was stupid, really. 

You both had to admit it was. Even then, that doesn’t take away the fact it snowballed into issues each of you held back for what seemed ages, and only ended up with Jude slamming the door on the way out of your apartment. 

After hours of crying, your own exhaustion from the ordeal lulled you to sleep. When you rose up in the morning, neither your mind nor your body prepared for the fact it was a Saturday. 

Nor the fact everyone and their mothers were receiving yellow flowers, something you’d always craved but were always just another bystander. 

If you listened to that song again you might just rip your hair off. 

You had a whole day planned with Jude after the game, he wanted to do something special, but the fact you couldn’t hold back your jealousy the night before was more than enough to dampen the idea, whatever it was. 

For a second, you tried to put things on the positive side. A self-care day. In theory it was wonderful, but the second you sat alone in the bubbly bathtub, you broke down in tears. 

You’d been together for years. You changed your whole life around him, learning German to go to school in the same country and planning your masters in Spanish. Maybe that was part of the reason he called you spineless; you adapted to other’s needs and perspectives easier. His words bounced around your head, each reminder taunting you more. 

To top it all off, Spotify seemed to have a vendetta against you, your daylist was insanely depressing. 

“Is this because he plays for Real Madrid?!” You spoke out into the world, growing frustrated with your situation. 

That did spark an idea in your brain; or more of a reminder. 

Jude had a game today. And you weren’t going to be there to watch him. That just made you jump out of the bath, get changed into decent clothes and leave the house for once to watch him at your best friend’s house upon her request, miserably so even when the team got their footing back up— knowing you should be in the stands cheering him on. But alas, you weren’t.

And you wondered if you would ever be again. 

The moment he fell clutching his shoulder, your heart stopped. Tears welled in your eyes but you avoided letting them escape, remembering the long hours of work and recovery, the utter joy you felt when he informed both you and the team he was comfortable playing without the big chunky brace again. All that, and it crumbled down right before your eyes, like your relationship. 

Still, you didn’t hesitate on reaching for your phone, not finding any elation on the team’s victory. 

[ I know you don’t want to see or hear from me ] 

[ But how’s your shoulder? I’m seriously concerned ] 

You knew he wasn’t going to reply right away, and when your companion found out who you’d texted, she ripped the phone out of your hands and put it away for the reminder of your evening laced with white wine and take out sushi. 

“Thank you for releasing me, master.” You joked by the time she gave you the mobile back, swallowing hard upon seeing Jude hadn’t replied. 

He hadn’t even read it. 

Now you were actually panicking, swallowing down the tears in the Uber and wishing the small elevator could go fast enough that you didn’t break down somewhere that wasn’t in the comfort of your home. 

You were overwhelmed enough that you didn’t even take into account your door was unlocked when you clearly left it locked, nor the warm light coming from the tiny space under the doorframe. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Were the first words you registered before your eyes caught the indoor prairie your boyfriend had installed in your living room in the shape of yellow daisies. 

Your eyes trailed the hundreds of petals before your eyes finally fell on him, scanning from his toes up to the apologetic expression he was carrying. Now it all made sense; your friend insisted on getting you out of the house for this. He didn’t reply because of this. 

Though your heart was running at a whopping speed of thirty miles per second, your feet took you painfully slow— cautiously— towards him. You were still marveled, carefully watching where your sneakers landed to avoid stepping on the beautiful work he’d planned for you. 

“Perdón,” Jude repeated, as if the words in Spanish meant so much more than the English language. He opened his mouth for what seemed to be a rant, but the way you squeezed the life out of him with a desperate hug left him speechless, followed by your hugs. 

“I thought you— you were going to dump me and I would have to move back home and— and I can’t imagine that because I love you so much and that’s why I was scared!” You babbled between hiccups, trying to calm yourself down before his gentle hands cupping your face did the job spectacularly. 

“I would be such a fuckin’ idiot to do that.” He couldn’t help but let out a laugh, not at you nor your claims, but at how ridiculous he had been. 

“Te perdono,” You sniffled, your bottom lip still puckered up ever so slightly. 

“But what’s all this?” You turned to look at the scene, something straight out of a Van Gogh painting. 

“You thought I forgot with the thousand TikToks you sent me on this day?” He leaned in to kiss your forehead before pulling you into another warm hug. 

“I also watch Gilmore Girls whenever you do. Whoops.” 

Your laugh echoed as you snuggled closer to him in your upright position, being extremely thankful the last sentence of the song wasn’t your reality.

A/N: if y'all seriously thought it wasn't going to have a happy ending you clearly don't know me well enough rip

[goddamnitmahtin]

Jason is a Teenage Dad Part 5

(So this part might be a bit wonky in some places, I did write a portion of this while in the hospital on pain meds so.)

Keeping the family business from Danny? Yeah that didn’t happen. The child could go ghost whenever he wanted and use his invisibility to sneak around the manor. He knew about the Batcave and how everyone else in the house was connected. What impressed Jason the most is that he didn’t need to ask any questions to understand what was going on. He had met Babs, Cass and Steph and immediately knew who they were. He knew Jason used to be Robin. He knew Tim was Robin now.

It had only been 4 years and Danny had improved so much. His flashbacks had toned down significantly and he was running around like a normal 7 year old. Well as normal as a half ghost 7 year old who used to be 15 with ghost powers could be. He adapted well.

Things were changing in the household constantly, people coming and going from the house whenever needed. Jazz Sam and Tucker only stayed in the manor half of the time, having the Manson estate that the three of them also shared. Steph on the other hand, was living with them full time. She had gotten pregnant by her boyfriend who dumped her after finding out. According to Steph, she wasn’t planning on telling anyone except Tim but Clockwork had left her a note telling her move in with Bruce and that he would handle everything else.

Clockwork did that sometimes. Like with Cass. She had gotten one of his post it notes one day and it had spooked her enough to turn around instead of following her orders. She had gotten another one when she was saving Commissioner Gordon, telling her to let Batman take her in. Not all of the notes were on big things. Sometimes they would get one just because. The latest one Jason got was telling him to remind Sam to eat lunch. It was almost as if the family had gained an all seeing, overpowered, ancient being uncle.

Ever since learning about Danny’s halfa status and his own…. whatever he was? It’s hard to pinpoint. He wasn’t exactly a revenant, didn’t fit the requirements of a liminal and didn’t possess the full capabilities of a halfa. But he was still some sort of ecto based being. Tucker had taken it upon himself to try to give it a name. The closest thing Tuck had suggested so far was a zombie but that was flimsy at best. Anyways, after learning the truth, Jason was doing his best to provide for the slightly different needs of himself and Danny as ecto beings.

Bruce had been nice enough to let them put their graves in the Wayne family cemetery. Since Jason hadn’t been dead for very long before he came back so Bruce had never had the time to give him one. And Danny had gone far too long without one according to Jazz. It means a lot to the dead to be honored with a grave, even if they themselves weren’t in it. Bruce had let Jason and Danny design a mausoleum for their name stones to be in. With compartments as if their bodies were in there and everything. Jason tended to just store things in his while Danny sometimes felt better to sleep in his. Jason admitted, being near his grave made him feel better but he was far too big in the shoulders to fit in the compartment. Danny and Jason designed the structure to fit up to 6 bodies, incase anyone wanted to be buried with them in the future.

Jason also started working with the JL to try and dissolve the Anti-ecto Acts. The SCP Foundation was fighting against it hard. Apparently, they saw ecto beings as SCPs that should be under their jurisdiction. Danny’s friends were helping out the case together. Since ecto beings were technically under the rule of their own government. Apparantly JLD was cooking up something so the Ghost King could get involved personally with the help of Sam and Tucker who were on good terms with the guy.

The ambient ecto in Gotham was enough to live off of so it wasn’t too bad but others like them that didn’t live in high ecto areas like Gotham or Amity Park didn’t deserve to not have access to ecto and even more didn’t deserve to hide who they were in order to survive. The ecto in Gotham wasn’t as pure as Jazz said Danny used to work with in Amity and the purer the ecto, the better for the environment and their health.

Danny was turning out to be the little genius. Jason knew that he could still remember things from before he was de aged and apparently, he had a lot of experience with mechanical engineering. He was working with Tim and Tucker to try and develop a filtration system of sorts to clean the ecto in Gotham. At first, Jason wasn’t so sure about leaving Danny all by himself on the lab. He was only seven after all. But after talking to Jazz about it… he was concerned about other things.

“Well I love his enthusiasm and these blueprints look… oddly professional but he’s only just a kid and if something goes wrong and no one is in the lab with him…” Jason said, sipping his coffee. He wasn’t lying, Danny couldn’t draw artistically to save his life but the moment he needed to draw a blueprint he was suddenly DaVinci.

Jazz who stayed at the manor almost exclusively except for nights where her work took her to a part of town that was closer to Sam and Tucker’s place and it was too late to drive all the way home, looked at the blueprints over Jason’s shoulder while she headed to the kitchen to pour herself her own coffee. “Looks like he never lost that talent of his. Danny could build anything he put his mind to back then. He was even more talented than Mom and Dad. It was too bad that he was always so busy being Phantom that he never got to… well you know… spend time on the things he liked.”

And with that, Jason watched as she walked away to the kitchen. Jason and Jazz were friends. Very good friends. Maybe even best friends. Well… something like that at least. She was nice enough and helped him raise Danny as a mother figure and the two of them hung out a lot. Her room was next to Jason’s so she could be close to Danny but most nights she just crashed in his room. He had an extra bed for her and it was easier to switch out who got up if Danny had an episode in the middle of the night. The two of them had talked about it. It wasn’t like Jason was blind, he knew she was very pretty but he didn’t feel any attraction toward her that went past platonic. She had said she felt the same way and the two of them agreed it would be too weird anyways since he was her brother’s dad. Not many really understood their dynamic but that was okay. It worked for them and Danny.

Jazz came back from the kitchen with a mug of coffee and the coffee pot. She filled Jason’s since it was low and he nodded in thanks. He had told her countless times that Alfred preferred to do that stuff himself but honestly this was just their routine in the morning now. He would get coffee and then she would join him, stealing the coffee pot until they were done with it and it was time to wake Danny for the day.

“I know that… but I don’t know… I worry,” Jason said. He knew it wasn’t a logical fear that he would get hurt. Halfas didn’t get hurt because of mortal causes like metal or, well, a stab wound. Jason may or may not have tested it on himself and sure enough he was also pretty immune. Just needed some ecto and it healed right up with no pain like it never happened.

Jazz just smiled softly, “I know you want him to have a normal childhood. As much as we can give him. But given both of our pasts, I’d say we are far past that. All that matters now is that he gets to experience the things he never got to the first time around.” She was right of course, sipping her coffee lazily.

“Okay yeah… in this family I have seen kids to weirder things. Once we wake up our star for the day, we can tell him he can build his machine. I would just prefer that he had someone with him while he tinkered,” Jason responded. When it came to things like this, he knew that Jazz knew Danny better than he did. She knew him before he was deaged and knew what kinds of things he missed out on.

She smiled at Jason, “You are a good dad Jason. I can see your self doubt in your eyebrows. You are doing just fine.” She rubbed his back comfortingly while the two of them looked at one another, Jason acknowledging that she’s right and that he needed that, Jazz acknowledging his need for comfort. After the moment passed, Jazz left to wake up their little star.

“Well then,” Jason turned his head to see Stephanie indulging in her peanut butter and oreos craving. She was standing next to Tim who had just stolen the coffee pot for himself.

“What now,” Jason asked.

“I just don’t get it is all. She likes you and you like her. And yet you refuse to fuck!” Stephanie shrugged as she shoved more cookie into her face.

Jason simply gestured toward her belly, “I don’t think you get room to talk right now.”

Tim spit out his coffee laughing.

…

Tim was at the Batcomputer looking over the next case he and B were gonna looking into. It was fun and all but he almost felt like he needed more of a challenge… like… something to do. School was too easy and he ahead already finished the work for the rest of the year. He was even considering starting next year’s work but he was going to have to ask Babs or Tucker to hack to the system into letting his online course end early so he can start the next ones. He could do it himself but he was going to be busy on patrol tonight.

As of right now though? He was playing babysitter so Danny could nerd out on his ecto machine. The “lab” Danny asked for was just a small corner of the Batcave that Danny had set up with an almost kitchen like feel except instead of an island in the center, it was a hunk of metal pieces fused together that made weird noises sometimes. Tim understood the bare bones of what Danny was building, it was a typical filtration system but how it was supposed work with ecto? Not Tim’s area of expertise. He was just there so that if Danny needed help or if something happened, he could call Jason. Nothing had ever happened before and Danny was fully capable of handling it all by himself but it was mostly so Jason wouldn’t have a heart attack.

Tim was pulled out of his thoughts when her heard a swoosh next to his head. “Danny, what did we say about flying in the cave?”

He watched and Danny became visible, his head poking out from behind the massive screen, “Give a warning and don’t touch anything that’s not mine…” Danny said, pouting, “But I have something to tell you Tim!”

Tim thought about this for a moment. Knowing Danny, it was either something interesting, what category of interesting was yet to be seen but Danny wasn’t like normal kids that said things that had no meaning. He could hear Danny out. Now was there a large chance that something very concerning about his past life was about to come up that he couldn’t share with Jason lest his brother have an aneurysm. Tim was willing to roll those dice.

“Okay Spooky, what’s up?” he said.

Danny clapped happily, phasing through the computer to fly right up to Tim’s face, “Stephanie needs your spleen!”

Well… not what Tim was expecting. But it was worth asking about further. At the very least he wanted to know what this child had to say about it before coming to his own conclusions.

“Elaborate?”

Danny laughed, unnervingly happy about this whole thing, “I asked this doctor ghost I know to watch over Stephanie for me! He’s very nice! Told me about how he used to treat Grand-B when he was sick before he died! Anyways, he told me all about Stephanie’s condition and he says that even though most people can live without a spleen, Steph’s blood is kind of weird so living without one isn’t possible for her. She’s having her baby right now upstairs and even though the ghost doctor said that she will okay after giving birth for now, her spleen will eventually finish necrotizing and once enough of it is gone, she will probably die which sucks because she’s going to be a cool mom. Anyways, you’re the only one in the house that is enough of a match that can save her and can also live without your spleen because you’re really healthy! It’ll be super easy though since I’m a ghost, I can do it super quick. Steph might be more liminal after and her eyes might glow sometimes, but that’s okay!”

Tim jumped out of his seat, “She’s having her baby RIGHT NOW?!”

Danny nodded smiling, “Yes! Upstairs! She went into labor really fast so she didn’t have time to go to the hospital.”

Tim shook his head, running toward to the stairs, “Priorities Danny! I promised her I’de be there!” Tim ran as fast as he could into the manor and through the halls.

“Is it because you like her?” Danny asked while flying along side him.

Tim scoffed, “Danny, my wildly inappropriate crush on who’s practically my sister has nothing to do with this!”

Danny’s smile never left his face as he kept flying along at Tim’s side, “It’s okay, I know you like boys too so you can just get a boyfriend and get over her!”

Tim almost halted in his steps but he didn’t, “Danny! Not the time!”

Danny laughed in that spooky way he did sometimes, “Okay!”

Tim kicked Stephanie’s door open and ran to her side, holding her hand, “I’m here! I’m here!”

Steph shot him a glare as she immediately began to squeeze his fingers, “You are late Timothy.”

Tim apologized as the blond began screaming in pain. The only one in the room besides the two of them was Alfred who had decided to deliver the baby himself. Was there anything that guy didn’t know how to do? Steph didn’t seem to be on any pain meds or any sort of epidural so she was muscling her way through this like the women of old, and she was handling it pretty well even though she was screaming bloody murder.

Tim tried his best to be as supportive as possible, telling her to breathe and ignoring her as she cursed him out repeatedly for telling her what to do. She squeezed his fingers tighter than Tim thought was humanly possible, to the point where they actually went numb as she pushed over and over.

There was no doubt that the entire household was just outside the door waiting for news on the baby’s arrival. The birth seemed to take forever as she kept pushing. Tim had read about how sometimes births could take a while so he wasn’t concerned about that, but he was very concerned about how the longer Stephanie pushed, the more color seemed to drain from her face. She looked as though she was starting to lose consciousness, probably from the pain.

Finally, Tim heard the cry of an infant. The baby was born. Tim looked away as Alfred did what he needed to do to prepare the baby for being held and made sure Stephanie didn’t have any tears or bleeding. He felt as she finally let go of his hand. As the feeling came back to his fingers, he was hit with the realization that she had broken 3 of them.

Once Alfred said everything was covered, Tim looked to Stephanie once again, She was covered in sweat and there was almost no color in her face. It was almost deathly pale, making Tim very concerned. He could see her starting to dip out of consciousness. Was that normal? He took her hand again wit h his unbroken one and tried to get a response from her. He didn’t get it.

“Alfred, I think something is wrong,” Tim said, looking to the butler.

“The Ghost Doctor says that she will be okay, she’s just in shock from the pain. But he also says that her immune system is really weak right now and since we aren’t in a hospital, she has a high chance of getting sick,” Tim heard Danny’s voice say as the boy appeared at the foot of the bed.

“Is there anything that can be done about this Young Master Danny?” Alfred said as he finished cleaning the baby and wrapped it into a blanket.

The seven year old nodded, “Ghost Doctor says that if I help, she will stabilize. I think I should take Tim’s spleen now too.”

Tim just nodded. It wasn’t the craziest thing he’s ever heard. This was the Wayne family. Shit was always crazy.

By the early hours of the morning, Stephanie was happily holding her baby girl that she had named Kore. Jason and Jazz were scolding Danny for not sharing information with them but also telling him how proud they were for helping. Bruce was breathing for the first time in hours. Cass was wrapping up Tim’s fingers. Tucker and Sam were on their way to greet the newest addition to the family. And Tim? Had never been happier to lose a spleen.

Part 4 Part 6

[aspiringsophrosyne]

The Mighty Nein: Weird Coincidences.

I've been compiling these here and there when I've had time, but there was a particular reason I wanted to get this post out of the way now. And it's this.

There's been some nervousness surrounding this, and I'm of two minds about it. On the one hand, people overstate just how hard the Nein's story would be to adapt and how much it would need to be changed for another medium. Can it be one-to-one with the original? Absolutely not. (Just as TLOVM couldn't be one-to-one either.) But the main issue is editing; the content is fine on its own.

And if this is the CRew themselves thinking the same thing, that's a little troubling, because it makes it sound like they might be changing more than they need to out of that unfounded fear.

On the other hand, all they might be talking about here is hindsight. The Mighty Nein's Campaign had a lot of strange coincidences, fortuitous thematic consistencies, and one-of-a-kind moments. The CRew is poised to reap the benefits of having these in mind ahead of time. This allows for some remarkable set-up and payoff if those involved are up to the challenge. Which, in the end, could be all they might be augmenting the story to do.

So maybe it's a good time to get into those weird coincidences, huh?

(Spoilers for basically all of Campaign 2 below the cut.)

Names

Veth Brenatto, her alias Bren, and Caleb’s original name: Bren. (This may have been inspired by the German word "Brennen",  which means “to burn”. Thanks Liam.)

Fjord Stone. Cad’s families: Clay, Dust and Stone. How the Wild Mother fits the story of an orphaned sailor like a glove. And how Cad, his family history, and likely the Wild Mother herself never would’ve entered the story if Molly hadn’t died.

A Mollymawk (spelled with a w instead of a u) is a type of albatross. Albatrosses are supposed to be unlucky, but only if you kill one. Per the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, everything goes to shit after a sailor kills an albatross. Molly’s death is just as unlucky, as it paves the way for Lucien's and Cognouza’s return. (In a meta sense, it’s also unfortunate for Matt and Taliesin, as it derails whatever plans they might have had for the character.)

Nine

Whelp.

Nine. Lots and lots of nines. And while Nein doesn’t mean nine in German/Zemnian (it means no), the wordplay works.

Nine schools of magic.

Nine people killed in Obann’s attack on the Cobalt Soul in Zadash.

The three titans (Uk’otoa, Quajath, and Desirat) collectively have nine eyes and nine crystals to unlock them and set them all free.

Nine hells.

Nine betrayer gods as of Vecna’s ascension.

Nine eye tattoos on Molly, each a mark of the Somnovem, the sleeping nine.

And of course, eventually, nine members of the Mighty Nein.

(Just for fun, Tharizdun’s sacred number in its premier in Greyhawk was 333. [3+3+3=?].)

Nein and its actual meaning work thematically as well. The Nein repeatedly clashes with forces and entities that want to mold them against their will into vessels they can use for their own purposes. And the group repeatedly says “Nein!” to that.

Tarot Readings

Molly deliberately pulls specific cards for his readings. Taliesin makes that explicit. However, some folks have pointed out that you can interpret his original reading for Jester where he tells her “You’ve already found what you’re looking for,” to be true in a few different ways. (She’s already found the people who will help her find her father. She’s discovered the company she sought that she only ever had with her Mamma and the Traveler prior, etc.)

But once we get to Jester’s readings, things really pop off. (Pop-pop off?)

Fjord's Reading

In episode 110, Jester draws two cards for Fjord: one for his present and one for his future. His present card is the Eye, which has two hands holding an eye above a restless sea.

There’s no need to elaborate on how that relates to Fjord’s then-present.

His future card is the Home And Traveler. This card could work for all the Nein if you interpret it as someone who will find or reach their home after some travel. But it hits especially hard for Fjord, who finds a home with Jester, the devotee of the Traveler, on a ship that travels up and down the coast.

And then...

Lucien's Reading

The three cards Jester pulls for Lucien are his past, present, and future. Even at the time, they seem pretty fitting.

His past: History and a Dream, which Taliesin clarifies as depicting the Calamity. This fits perfectly with the Tomb Takers’ previous job for DeRogna and their coming into the Somnovem’s patronage.

His present: the Tyrant. We don’t know either Lucien or his goals too well at this point, but we do know he and his troupe kill indiscriminately and he holds an unnatural sway over the other Tomb Takers.

His future: the Death Card. You can attribute that to the upcoming fight between him and the Nein.

But in hindsight...whoo boy. In hindsight, not only do we know of Lucien’s plans to dispatch the Somnovem and become the Tyrant king of Cognouza and all its lost, broken souls, but we know of his fall. More specifically, who he falls to.

Jester, sitting across from him, pulls his last card and tells him “Facing you is Death.”

And then it’s Miss Lavorre who ends him for good.

Divine Intervention

Generally, a Divine Intervention is a Hail Mary. You roll a d100 (or an equivalent combination of dice) and only if you roll a number below your level do you trigger it. Logically, this gets easier the higher your level gets, but you can’t rely on it until level 20.

Taliesin rolls three of these for Cad in the last quarter of the Campaign. And that’s cool enough. But what’s even better is the Wild Mother’s Grave Cleric rolls successfully for Divine Intervention every time he makes a request (knowingly or not) relating to Cognouza. The city that's coming to swallow Melora's Exandria whole.

The first successful roll comes when Cad seeks info about Vokodo, the pseudo-god of the island of Rumblecusp. Vokodo, it turns out, punched a hole through the Astral Plane to escape the hunger of the lost ward of Aeor. And upon its death, it gives a vision that sets the Nein on Lucien’s trail.

The second success comes when the Nein is attempting to uncover the Tomb Takers' secret entrance to Aeor so that they can use it to set a trap. Cad’s success tells them exactly where they need to go. This allows them to get Zoran, Otis, and Tyffial out of the way early, even if it doesn’t stop Cree and Lucien from continuing towards the city.

As for the third, well...we all know what the third does. That it prevails after Critical Role’s first Resurrection Ritual failure, (due to a natural 1 no less!) is just the icing on the cake.

Caduceus even makes the point that Cognouza had functionally become a corpse that was unable to die and that he was uniquely called upon, given his family’s business, to put it down for good.

Odds and Ends

Nott distracts a Manticore from killing Fjord by killing its baby. Her own child ends up in need of a resurrection later on in the story, during their trip to the Fire Plane. Speaking of which, a painting of said Plane can be observed in Trent's house. You know, the one he would end up chasing the Nein to?

Fjord loses his chance to break the first seal to Avantika; he lands the first attack on her Revenant incarnation when the Nein catches up to her after she escapes with his orb, and he gets the final blow on her there, recovering said orb as he does.

Yasha and Caleb are the most susceptible to the Succubus/Incubus mind control. In the former's case, this could be chalked up to her low Wisdom score...but it also serves as some neat accidental foreshadowing for her time with Obann. And for Caleb, it can be a callback to his time learning under Trent.

The Circus Kids' stories sync up perfectly. Both of their bodies end up puppeteered by someone from their respective pasts. Both of them are used to try to end the world. And, probably once Matt noticed this synchronicity himself, both are revealed to have fallen under the sway of the Chained Oblivion. And their stories didn't have to go this way. Molly didn't have to die, and Matt revealed that Yasha could've theoretically made that wisdom save against Obann's control in the King's Cage. But that's not how things turned out.

Accidental foreshadowing:

Episode 19, Molly and Yasha, after acquiring an item from an Orc hermit living somewhat off the side of the road:

Molly: We made a friend. Jester: Did you kill someone for that? Molly: Yes. Yasha: He’s dead. Molly: He’s very dead. And then he rose up from the grave again and we had to kill him again. Twice. Same man.

Also, in episode 23, after meeting the Syphilis Bandits again and leaving one of them out cold:

Jester: What if we put some flowers in his hair; so when he wakes up, he looks really pretty? Beau: That’s good. Let’s do that. Molly: There’s nothing better than waking up in the morning with no pants and flowers in your hair.

In episode 48, Yussa and Caleb have a conversation:

Caleb: Sometimes I follow my friends places I shouldn’t. Yussa: That might someday get you killed. Or may one day get you what you seek.

Following a certain Tiefling up to Eiselcross got him both.

Nott also asks Caleb in this episode if he has an eye on his forehead. This is probably a callback/joke about Scanlan’s blessing from Ioun, but it foreshadows what happens to Veth much later.

Episode 49, about Ludinus Da’leth and in particular, Vess DeRogna:

Fjord: Then we kill the two elves. Jester: Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Maybe we go up into their room at night or something and just, you know... Stabby stab.

Episode 70:

Jester (to Essek): Maybe you’ll like us so much you’ll just hang out.

Dramatic Irony:

Everything the Nein say about Molly after his death and at his grave is, in hindsight, an awful twist of the knife, as his body's former life is far from finished with him.

Episode 41. The Nein learns Orly can make magic tattoos. Beau talks about getting an eye tattoo on her back to mirror Molly’s:

Jester: I mean, I don’t know, maybe it was really sacred to him and he would be really super offended by it. Beau: Oh, yeah, maybe it would, like I stole it from him? Jester: But it’s fine, I’m sure. Beau: Yeah, you know, he’s dead, so, what’s he going to do?

Almost a hundred episodes later, Beau's new tattoo gets a little addition...

Episode 65

Jester: Are you nervous? Yasha: Yeah. Yeah, I’m nervous. I just don’t know what we’re walking into, you know? Jester: Yeah. We’ve got your back though. That guy isn’t going to do anything bad to you.

Episode 91

Veth asks Essek at dinner if he’s heard of a Nonagon, or someone named Lucien. Essek says he hasn’t. This won't be the case for long.

Episode 95

Jester, talking about Cad and the Wild Mother:

Jester: Yeah. So like, when he asks her questions, you know what she does? Artagan: “Nothing?” Jester: She blows the wind. Exactly, she does shit. So and he’s like, “I sensed, you know, I understand what she’s saying.” She’s not doing anything, but he thinks she is.

This commentary is particularly delicious, considering which Cleric's Divine Interventions end up working.

And there's probably some I've missed! These are just the little bits and pieces I jotted down during a rewatch. It wouldn't surprise me if there's more.

But that's to say, just what we've got here is a monumental amount of things to build off of and play with. The Mighty Nein's animated series has the potential to be something extraordinary if the CRew can make use of all these little gifts deftly and with subtlety. There's power and potential here, and I am nervous as hell about whether or not they can tap into it successfully.

[dailybloodswap]

Your name is Nepeta Maryam.

You hail from a vengeful bloodline. You’re well aware of your ancestor and how much shit she ended up causing for the empire. The caverns she escaped from eons ago is your former prison. Former because on this night 9 sweeps ago you became a free troll, escaping and taking some of the most valued treasures from Alternia’s history with you. Your cloister was meant to guard them for when the pretentious bitch became leader. Something you didn’t care to let happen, you had places to go and a massive fucking mess to leave in your wake for having been locked into the damp and cold caverns.

Your escape wasn’t all easy though. Your cerulean friend, or rather partner in disaster, made a few blunders getting you out. He lost a finger and you lost your life. It’s all water under the bridge though, he was with you until you woke up, somehow knowing you would wake up in rainbow drinker form. You stayed with him for a bit before you found your hive. It’s safe, it’s secure and you got your shit together in a big way.

Deciphering her diary wasn’t too hard on you, you did need the teratoma and the forgotten glass. It’s a funny story actually. You’re the only jade who thought to look through the glass at the teratoma. The voices you hear now and the answers you get from the teratoma are irrefutable. You know and your beloved cerulean matesprit knows, making you quite the power couple. Your FLARP days aren’t behind you and you compete in a number of bloodsport events together. So far you’ve racked up enough to spend the rest of eternity not having to worry over anything your heart desires. Not even a minor injury as touched you two in all your sweeps playing together.

Your other passion is ballet. Your kismesis helped get you into it and you love her, in the hate you still but I’m grateful way, for it. You often like having fire during your performances if you do any. You do get asked frequently to perform for higher bloods as a jade out the caverns is a spectacle the rich and powerful want to play with. You might be a cat pushing a candle into a haystack with your craft but it’s one hell of a show. If they survive.

You mostly have your shit together and you’re proud of that. There are limits of course. The voices aren’t easy to adapt to, but you’re not one to let the teratoma’s “gifts” disillusion you. You also find yourself in frequent pain, some things were never healed with your change into the undead. You don’t really talk about that to anyone but your moirail. It stays that way, it has since you’ve known him. The olive is someone you could never replace, nor would you even consider that. He helped get you back to reality after your death. The time is largely a blur to you now and you prefer it like that, the only thing you DO recall is the pain. You don’t think anyone in the history of forever felt that amount of pain. He was there for you when things went wrong and he kept to his word that the intense agony would stop. You know somewhere that it was a promise that could’ve been empty but the fact he cared enough to promise and get it right overrules logic.

On sunny days like this you often paw over more of your ancestor’s diary and ask the teratoma for certain details you want from it. They are after all, your legacy. She got it from the mutant’s guardian as a prize after her death. You’re fully aware of her blood but haven’t told her you do. You know of the rot in your friend group, you’re all cursed in one way or another.

But that’s not gonna stop you.

happy 4/13 here's something i've been fucking with for ages

[foreingersgod]

So so you wanted a small town reader request so I thought of this one. She she’s from a southern small town and plays basketball for the SEC team of her state, she really made a name for herself there, but wants to broaden her horizons so she enters the transfer portal and somehow ends up in Iowa where meet Kate who is OBSESSED with her southern accent. Then it’s just Kate trying to show her interest bc reader is totally oblivious until one of their teammates says something

Southern Charm . KM

pairing: kate martin x reader

synopsis: after transferring to iowa’s basketball team to broaden your horizons, you end up meeting someone who changes your life

A/N: i got a request to do another country fic like this one with kate, so expect one with ‘country kate’ here soon!

also, i’m not very proud of this one so i’m sorry if it’s genuinely shitty lol :’)

NOT PROOF READ

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

ever since you were little, maybe 7 or 8, you were fascinated with basketball. growing up in texas you were exposed to a large following of sports and hard core fans. your family was always repping the pro and college teams of your state with pride, attending several games throughout your childhood. basketball in particular held a special place in your heart. you remember watching the university of texas’ basketball games with your dad, absolutely enthralled by the game. it didn’t take long for your parents to get you involved in the sport. you played in small teams as a kid then on your schools girls basketball teams in middle and high school. and with a lot of hard work and determination, you got into the university of texas to play on their women’s team.

while playing for the university, you made quite the impression on basketball fans. you were quick, had unbelievable stats, and extremely adaptable. you were a pretty valuable player in most eyes. but after two years at the school, you started to feel restricted. there wasn’t a whole lot for you to improve on your skills so you made a drastic decision to enter the transfer portal.

it was an emotional decision. realizing you would be leaving teammates behind as well as your home state was hard, but you longed for something greater. not long after entering the portal, you had transferred to the university of Iowa. you were ecstatic despite having to move away. it was time to broaden your horizons and hopefully expand upon your skill set.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

you had arrived in iowa around a week ago and you were still adjusting. figuring out where all of the buildings were, where the dining halls were located, was a lot for you to handle. hell you could barely remember how to get to your dorm at this point.

you haven’t even met your new teammates, practices not starting up for a couple of days. the anticipation had you extremely nervous.

what if they didn’t like you?

what if they thought you sucked?

the days leading up to your first practice were consumed with these uncontrollable thoughts. but as you laced up your shoes and grabbed your duffel bag, heading out the door, you felt those nagging thoughts dissipate.

when you arrived for practice, opening the large metal doors to the gym, it almost felt like you were right back at home. you wandered over to where the team was warming up, hearing the squeak of the polished floors. quickly, looking up from her clipboard, bluder spotted you a few feet ahead. she met you on the sidelines to officially greet you for your first day.

“ah, YN!” she announced, grabbing the attention of the other girls “nice to see you again, glad you could join us. let’s get you introduced and settled in”

her smile was welcoming as she motioned for the girls to huddle up. everyone gathered around, you being the center of attention as you looked around awkwardly.

“team, i’m sure you’re all aware of our newest member, YN” lisa said “let’s be kind and supportive and help her get settled in on her first day alight?”

everyone nodded “great. YN, would you like to introduce yourself?”

you took a deep breathe as you studied their faces timidly, fidgeting with your fingers and trying to think of something to say.

“um, yea” you managed, hoping you sounded confident “i’m YN, i just transferred from the university of texas..and i’m-uh-really excited to get to know you guys”

the team offered their hello’s, walking up to you one by one to shake your hand politely and introduce themselves. they were all incredibly sweet right away, telling you you’d fit right in and complimenting your skills. you went down the line, excited to get acquitted with the team.

then, at the end of the line, stood kate martin. you had seen her play and you thought she was amazing so you were excited to finally meet her. she approached you with the most genuine smile, eyes lit with zeal.

“hey,” she spoke up, offering her hand to you “i’m kate, it’s nice to meet you YN”

you smiled back at her “it’s nice to meet you too! you’re a fantastic player, i’d be lyin’ if i said i hadn’t been excited to meet you!”

“i’m flattered, really, thank you” you could feel her hand linger on yours as she pulled away from the handshake “so texas, huh? i caught onto the accent!”

you both laughed “yea, i’m from a small town not too far from campus, so i got that signature dialect”

“i think it’s really cute,” she looked down, avoiding your gaze “think it suits you”

“thanks, kate” you blushed, smiling at her once more before bluder summoned everyone to resume warmups.

what a sweetheart.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

it had been quite sometime since you had finally settled into your new team. there was a lot of awkwardness and uncertainty, but you had started to feel like this is where you were meant to be. and like you had hoped, there was so much more room for you to improve rather than back in texas. you were playing amazing games, beating your own records and personal highs on a regular basis. going to iowa was truly the best thing for your career.

you had also grown really close to the girls since arriving. kate, especially, was like your best friend. she had always been so kind and sweet to you. at some point in your friendship, you started to develop a decent crush on the girl, but you had always assumed that she didn’t feel that way about you. so you stayed quiet as to not distrust your connection.

but recently, things have been a little off with kate. she often avoided you during practices and didn’t stay to say goodbye when you left. both things she did on a normal basis and now she just stopped doing it all together. she didn’t even bother to text you or ask about your day, nor did she laugh when you said things funny (she’s always giggled to herself when your accent was thick). you were beginning to wonder if you did something wrong.

it had been weeks of her dismissive behavior and you were starting to miss your best friend. your heart ached at the thought of her not liking you anymore. so you devised a plan to meet her during her extra early practice one morning and confront her, hoping to figure out why she wasn’t giving you the time of day.

it was about 7:00 in the morning, much too early for your liking. you’d never understood why kate, amongst others, wanted to be at practice an hour earlier. but you had managed to get out of bed at 6, suiting up and sneakily heading to the gym. you hoped you could catch her off guard, maybe surprise her so she’d have no choice but to deal with your confrontation head on. you were approaching the doors of the locker room, about to open the door, when you heard kate’s voice echo from inside. freezing in your spot, you shamefully eavesdropped to see what she was talking about.

“no! i’m not going to do that!” she exclaimed.

“why not?” you heard another voice, from the sounds of it, it must’ve been gabbie. “you’re like obsessed with her, just go for it!”

“i’m not obsessed, ok? there’s just something about YN that drives me crazy and i like her so so much, but i’m sure as hell not going say that right to her face!”

you went numb hearing your name fall from kate’s mouth. you tried to move closer to the door, wanting to hear what she was saying a little bit better, but you tripped over your own foot causing you to lunge forward. the doors to the locker on went flying open, your stiff figure busting through the entrance as you immediately gave yourself away.

you stood, completely unable to move as you looking up into the vastness of the locker room. sure enough, there were gabbie and kate, sitting in front of you. their eyes were wide seeing you burst through those doors, realizing they had just been caught talking about you. and it was no secret that you had heard almost everything they were saying.

“i’m so sorry!” you rambled an apology “i was just about to come and talk to kate, but then i heard my name, and i really didn’t mean to intrude like this i’m so embarrassed”

kate sat, also embarrassed as gabbie spoke up.

“i’m going to give you guys some privacy” she said “i think there’s a lot that kate needs to say”

and with that, she walked out of the locker room, leaving you and kate in awkward silence. you walked over to where she sat on the bench to take the seat next to her. she looked at you, hardly able to make eye contact.

“i’m sorry”

“for what?” you asked

“i shouldn’t have been talking about you behind your back. i had no idea you were gonna be here, not that that makes it ok-”

“kate, it’s ok” you placed a hand on her shoulder “i was here early cause i needed to talk to you, but i shouldn’t have stuck around to eaves drop”

“what did you need to talk to me about?”

you sighed, suddenly wishing you didn’t have to bring it up in the first place “it’s just that i’ve felt like you’ve been avoiding me and purposely not talking to me so i wanted to ask why…but i think i already kind of know why…”

“yea” she replied, voice cracking “you weren’t supposed to find out like that”

“if it’s any consolation…i feel the same way” you removed your hand from her shoulder, taking her hand in yours. gentle fingers ran over hers soothingly.

“you-you do?”

“mhm” you grinned “i’ve been too afraid to say anything cause i didn’t know if you felt the same and i didn’t want to ruin our friendship”

she didn’t say anything, just sat looking into your eyes. there were no tears, no anger in her eyes, just a certain longing that only you could recognize.

“i think im in love with you”

“you don’t have to say-”

“no i mean it” she continued “everything about you, from the moment i met you, i’ve been in love with. you’re perfect and funny and gentle, you have the cutest accent i’ve ever heard, and i don’t think i can handle being just friends”

“kate i think i’m in love with you too” happy tears welled in your eyes as you inched closer to her, feeling her breathe on your skin.

“can i kiss you?” she asked, but she didn’t even need to, you would’ve done it anyways.

“please”

and finally, your lips met in the most gentle yet passionate kiss. teeth clashing at the urgency of it, both of you so eager from waiting so long for this moment. you wished you could’ve stayed like that forever. nonetheless, she pulled away breathlessly, forehead resting against yours as you smiled at each other.

“it’s that southern charm” she joked, large hand resting against your cheek “you’re irresistible”

you laughed, pulling her into another kiss, trying to savor this moment for as long as you could.

[whiteirisif]

"Living with yourself is hard. Living without yourself is even harder."

Demo (release date: when the time is right)

Part One: Memories of the Phoenix

Intro: In this world, magic is split in two, no longer something one individual could wield all on their own. Instead, the art is now divided and shared between those who write spells on enchanted talismans and those who unleash the power. From this discovery, the roles of Casters and Enchanters were born. This brings us to Nanta, the ever-bustling port city near the shores of Fen – known as the sea of stars – that is home to many who seek knowledge rather than fish. Some claim that it's the epicentre not only of trade but also magic across the continent of Yulan, and they're right. Stationed on its hills is the proud Academy of Dives, which houses thousands of children and young adults of all upbringings and social standing, teaching them the art of either enchanting or casting.

You are one of those lucky students - a caster with the highest magical strength across the entire Academy paired with an equally impressive enchanter to write talismans for you. Life handed you the easiest path to glory on a silver platter.

So, what was preventing you from dominating the world at the tender age of fourteen?

Merely the fact that you want none of it.

Features:

Play as a depressed kid in a fantasy world filled with magic. It's not the best place to have mental issues. Either you or the world will have to adapt.

Try to change your bad habits - wake up on time and attend classes like everyone else. You could even show up to write the midterm exam! Or succumb to the endless cycle of running away from your problems. There's no shame in that, only consequences.

Meddle with the life of another student and help them decide their fate. You could even stop an ancient ritual from happening if you're lucky.

Mend or worsen the relationship between you and the enchanter assigned to you. Just how deep does his patience run?

Characters:

Nadir - Enchanter

Nadir is your enchanter and the first-ever friend you made after arriving in the Academy, though you doubt he shares your opinion. He is everything a student should be and everything you are not. Even though you both share a rare gift, only one of you appreciates it, which often leads to arguments between you.

Shuli - Enchanter

Shuli is your beloved roommate. She agreed to stay behind with you in the abandoned dorms, which has made your life easier. Her kindness and patience towards you knows no bounds, and when you squint, you can almost see a shining halo on top of her head. If you hadn't seen her beat up a bunch of thieves with her bare hands, you, too, would be fooled into thinking of her as someone on the weaker side.

Eris - Caster

Eris is called ‘The Darling of the Academy’ due to being everyone's favorite despite being quite the troublemaker. You even heard that so far they never lost in a single popularity contest due to their beautiful doll-like face, but that is pretty much all you know about them. That is, until - all of a sudden - they start randomly approaching you all the time.

Other Characters:

Sol & Leto

Leto and Sol - the inseparable duo with completely opposing personalities. Sol glares at people like she never had a peaceful day in her life - while Leto is a walking cloud full of smiles. People wonder how these two get along so well. You may find the answer to that soon enough.

Kara

Kara is the spirit you bonded with when you were seven. He is the closest thing you have to a family.

Gias

A carefree soul that also happens to be a teacher. Gias is a mysterious person, and you suspect they know more than they let on.

Not recommended for people that don't like:

Slice of life, age progression - or who want to play a touch-averse or a completely blank mc

Credits:

Help with the intro post @unsanctioned-if

[gold-pavilion]

Belonging and humanity (some more Ivan thoughts)

There's a big difference between knowing for a fact that you're a human being and getting to FEEL part of humankind. That's a thing that I feel Ivan sorely lacked. Some of his issues can definitely be traced back to it.

There's three things we know for certain about Ivan's early childhood nowadays, so let me start from those:

There were other humans around him in the slums, at least other children (for now it doesn't seem there were adults around, or none who would approach or care for the children).

However, we also know Ivan did not learn social behavior properly; for example, how or when to smile.

Going by the lonely tone of the song Nowhere and its emphasis on having no one, plus the previous point, we can infer there was no meaningful social contact with any people he knew/saw.

Ivan has been described as someone who is always learning to survive and his time in the slums must've been the same, after all; it's most likely that the other kids were competition to him (for food or other resources), threats or simply strangers with whom connections were never made.

That's to say, there were humans around Ivan but no "human community".

And that's the thing: take someone who went through a critical developmental stage with no one to care for or be cared by, learn social behavior with or practice the emotional exercises of understanding and empathy - ask that someone what "being a part of humankind" feels like, and what can he even make of it? It must not mean much more than categorizing a species, no feeling involved. And anyway, what difference does it make if there's anything else to say or not?

It's not like those are easy questions. None of the ALNST cast, with all their limitations, would be able to respond comprehensively.

But it changes things, the differences are there.

There are things that Till knows, from having a mother, learning from her and being enriched emotionally by their interaction, that I don't think he could describe but certainly has within him. Or Hyuna, who had a brother to feel that family bond and sense of community with, learning all sorts of positive social skills and having a heart full of room for empathy as she always looked out for the little Other Person next to her.

Beyond knowing their species, they know what it MEANS to be the rare and amazing human creature from these experiences of connecting, teaching, being taught, holding things in common, giving and receiving love. On an instinctual level they accessed what it feels like to be "part of humankind", which is so cool about them!!

Then you have cases like Mizi being too trusting of aliens because she was raised to feel community with one, Sua being mostly withdrawn because she didn't have a lot of warmth and community around her, Luka who was deprived of everything and then clung too hard to his first proper bond...

And Ivan, with his empty circumstances. There are a million things Ivan didn't learn and doesn't KNOW he lacked.

Of course that with his background he'd end up 1: being defensive by nature, having selfish tendencies, trouble processing emotion and socially weird habits and 2: feeling like a twisted being because of it, which is such a core aspect of his character. A human with less humanity but no idea why or how.

He adapted himself a lot once adopted, of course, and caught up an even bigger lot in his time in Anakt Garden. But I don't think he ever understood why he was "more twisted than others" and honestly, his intelligence and observance doesn't do him any favors on that front; on the contrary, I think it made him more aware of the gaps between him and other people.

And I really have to wonder if his experiences around the segyein are all that different, emotionally speaking.

I mean, of course objectively they have to be, but… his adopted life was a matter of observing his new environment, feeling like an absolute stranger because he's another species, but learning and adapting as quickly as possible in order to make himself a desirable pet that would be kept around. His experience being sent to Anakt and put in a human group was, again, feeling like a stranger because he's different to others of his own species, but learning and adapting as quickly as possible, eventually making himself an "acceptable", charming, absolutely cagey but near-perfect man. He succeeded both times.

He never did get rid of that awareness of being "twisted", though. After all, he also didn't unlearn all his survival patterns or fix the weak spots in his emotional development. As much as he progressed, the sense of not quite belonging and the faint relationship with his own humanity stayed. (With one big exception, but I'll leave that thought for the end of this ramble.)

In a way, I feel like this is exactly what made him so successful in segyein society as far as he lived. So adaptable that beyond being a good pet, he could also be trusted with and hold down an actual job, decent (faked or not, still good) relationships with segyein and, if he had any chance of survival, probably the capacity to live in their society with moderate perks.

Being an adaptable stranger who belonged nowhere in the first place… I think it's what made him more willing, more capable and more okay with mixing with the segyein like that, paired with his intelligence to pull it off.

No human pride to sacrifice. Not much humanity in the first place.

Except for the one noteworthy exception that shifted Ivan's growth: his relationship with Till.

Not only did Till embody things that Ivan lacked, which fascinated him from the start, but through his bond with him Ivan developed a lot of those traits and sensitivities that constitute peak humanity. It's a bit of the "love will make you human" trope, but on god does it apply. Ivan learned to care, to feel and to love, at times selfishly, at times messily. Buth he got pretty good at it; so much that love made him selfless and sacrificial in the end. He became a little more human for the object of his feelings. It didn't't erase all his struggles or fix his issues at large, but it was a lot. Of course he'd die thanking Till.

Anyway, that's all I wanted to get off my chest!

Humanity is a tough theme with Ivan, so I hope my thoughts about it were an interesting read.

The usual disclaimer: I've talked about 1 aspect of Ivan in this post, which does not mean this is all there is to his character or that I aim to invalidate other aspects. Just rotating this one in my head.

[purrlockswatson]

Phantom of the Opera (1990), you did Erik proud

Alternate title: Christine, we have beef!

(Meme inspired by this post.)

I have not a bad word for this Erik (and not just because I can feel a certain friend of mine holding a chandelier over my head). The 1990 adaptation made some big changes to the story, but it perfectly captured the childlike soul of Leroux's Erik that is often lost in translation but vital to him. (When I was explaining POTO to someone outside the situation, i. e. my mum, two things I kept using as comparisons were a child and Gollum - not because he's a chaos gremlin, I was trying to describe how he has a skewered perspective of the world that isn't evil but doesn't follow the accepted moral system. But that's for another time.)

I found myself trying very hard not to resent Christine - a first time for me. I will defend her choosing the Compte de Chagny over Erik, she doesn't owe Erik love, no matter what he did for her. The problem is that she took on a responsibility she couldn't possibly carry.

Never, ever assume to fully understand someone. Especially someone like Erik, who thinks and exists on a different pane as most people. Christine was wrong, terribly wrong, to assume she 'knew his heart.'

When faced with a person so sensitive, so particular, when you are the one person trusted by someone who trusts no one, don't make huge gambles like that. She shouldn't have assumed she knew what Erik needs better than he himself does - if he told you he is happy with where they were, then stay there with him! Instead, she pulled the 'I can fix him' and shattered him completely. I don't hate her for being unable to catch Erik when he falls, I hate her for blindly promising to catch him and failing him.

(I do realise how much of the above describes myself and my worries about how people treat me, so fair warning, I may be a bit biased.)

An opinion: in most versions of the story, Erik emotionally manipulates Christine, but here, Christine is the one who is emotionally manipulative. ('Manipulative' may sound malicious, but manipulators aren't always aware of what they're doing.)

In the second part of the series, she said at least three times 'If you love me...' Now, that is one of my least favourite sentences to see and hear in the best of times, but this is somehow even worse because Erik DOES do everything because he loves her. In other versions, there is the question of possessiveness against love when it comes to their relationship; in that context, I would accept her saying this, to remind him that he should love and not obsess over her. But here, Erik is not possessive.

As for Monsieur Carrière, I have beef with him, too. It's an even bigger, tougher slice of beef. He is irresponsible: not once, but twice, he got in relationships and then left his partners when they have children. The first time could be a mistake; the second time, especially when kept Erik's mother in the dark about his marriage, is inexcusable. Yes, he stayed with her till the end, but then left their son in a basement. Yes, he reached out to Erik in the end, but too little, too late. If Erik is emotional and irrational, it's because Carrière never gave him the guidance he should have.

Christine and Carrière love Erik, I don't doubt it. But it's still painful to see Erik fall down through everyone and everything that should have caught him: his talent, his parents, Christine.

If you'll excuse me, I need to cry in the catacombs and draw something miserable.

I talk about several other adaptations here!

[talesofesther]

our hearts' rhythm

↳ Ch one: Midnight coffee cups

Neve Gallus x Rook

Series Summary: The quietness of the night can become something overwhelming when you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Rook's nights often take a lonely and sleepless turn, but luckily, a certain detective also has trouble finding sleep when work gets in her head. Two restless hearts start finding their way to each other. Maybe some comfort can be found in the darkness of the night, after all.

A/N: So, this was supposed to be much smaller, but it snowballed into something more, as most of my works tend to do loll. Nonetheless, I think I like how it turned out! We'll have a few more chapters, a few more tales of sleepless nights. And, I am already working on your requests. ;)

Masterlist

The passage of time in the Lighthouse could be confusing, sometimes unsettling, as magic clung to every stone and vine of the building. At first, it was gloomy outside, not quite day and not quite night. Then it turned brighter, plants started growing, and what looked like sunlight remained stagnant in one part of the sky only. And lately, something akin to night started happening.

Rook didn't know if their corner of the fade was only mimicking the world outside or if the Lighthouse had somehow eventually adapted to the team's sleeping habits and created a resemblance to a night sky. Either way, she was pleased to have a calmer setting, free of bright lights, to allow her tired eyes some respite after a tumultuous day.

She thought such calmness would make it easy to rest, but apparently, her body had other ideas. For a couple of hours now, she'd been tossing and turning, firstly with eyes closed to try and fool her mind into thinking it was asleep, and then holding a staring contest with the fish in her aquarium. No luck. No matter how hard she tried, sleep wouldn't come.

Maybe, Rook shouldn't be surprised. The fall of Weisshaupt had taken a toll on everyone, and it had only been a couple of days. Each time she closed her eyes, there would be flashes of the recent memory; darkspawn climbing the walls of the castle, the smell of smoke and blood as fire rained down from the sky on brave warriors who refused to back down, the death of an Archdemon, and yet Ghilan'nain still very much alive and on the loose. So many lives were lost, and a fortress that had stood since the beginning of time was now nothing more than rubble and smoke. It didn't feel like much of a victory.

And all under her command. Varric had trusted her to be the one leading their team. 'No one is ever truly ready, kid.' He'd told her once. 'But I know you have what it takes to do it.' And she misses him, out there fighting by her side. She missed the security and comfort his presence brought her in this near one year they'd spent together.

Rook sat up, burying her head in her hands before running her fingers through her hair. She mumbled curses when they got caught in loose knots. Part of her wanted to wander into the infirmary to hear what she already knew he'd tell her, but Varric was probably asleep already. It wouldn't change much, truth is that everyone is looking at her for guidance now, whether they even realize it or not. And the pressure only grows heavier.

Pressing her palms to her eyes, Rook wished to escape from this world, only for a moment. The thought was gone as soon as it came, replaced by another, one that dreaded the feeling of leaving her team alone in this battle.

Coming to terms with the fact that she'd be getting no sleep for the night, Rook got up and quietly made her way out of her room. She walked aimlessly, bare feet touching the cold stone floor as she passed by the gentle hum of the astrolabe in the library until she reached the main doors. Outside, she was greeted by another night in the fade, that strange horizon of moons and stars filling the sky in all directions, but never seeming to turn to a real night sky.

Rook walked up the stairs in the middle of the courtyard, passing by the wisps floating around Neve's study. A faint light came from inside, bleeding through the windows. Neve had told her, not that long ago, that she never could sleep once work got in her head.

Was she restless, too?

There had been so much death at Weisshaupt. And yet, Rook couldn't help but be filled with relief when, at the end of each fight, she would look for Neve and find her still standing.

What a dangerous thing, to care this much.

They hadn't acknowledged any of it, but amidst the smoke and the darkspawn and the bloodshed, whenever Rook had looked for Neve, she would meet the detective's gaze, already locked solely on her, too. Neve always caught her staring, but Rook always caught Neve staring back—a shared gaze that lingered just a little longer than it should amidst a battle.

Tonight, Rook held a staring contest with Neve's door from afar. Considered going after some kind of comfort she couldn't find anywhere else. Until she shook her head, mumbling a quiet 'no'.

Instead, she pushed open the tall doors of the dining hall, ever so slowly and carefully to avoid any sounds because of a certain assassin who insisted on sleeping in the pantry. Inside, the long wooden table still had empty plates and cups scattered around. The warm light of the fireplace bathed the whole spacious room in dim shades of orange, its flickering flames reflecting against cutlery and hanging pans. A small smile came to Rook's lips. She liked it here, the space was cozy and almost homey in a way.

Maybe she could make herself some tea, that could soothe her mind—no, the teabags were stashed in the pantry, and she wasn't about to disturb Lucanis at this hour of the night. There was a half-filled coffee pot by the stove, which seemed fresh enough. It wouldn't do much to calm her mind, but it would be a distraction.

When Rook stepped out of the dining hall, warm coffee cup in hand, she could still see a light on inside Neve's room, a mix of golden from candles and faint blue from the wisps.

There was a beat of debate and hesitation, a beat where Rook considered what-ifs and their consequences. Maybe she really was a lost cause.

Rook turned around, going back into the dining hall to heat a second cup of coffee.

─── ·❆· ───

Knocking on the door proved a little difficult while holding two mugs of coffee and trying not to spill it all on herself, but Rook managed. It was a soft touch of knuckles on metal, and luckily, with the quietness of the night, not much else was needed for Neve to hear her.

A curious 'come in' called for Rook then, with the soft melody of her favorite voice. Rook breathed out a heavy sigh, knowing she'd been doomed from the start.

Neve's eyebrows twitched upwards when Rook stepped into her room, her chocolate eyes going just a tad wider were enough of a tell that she was not expecting this. But in the same breath, there was an uncharacteristically gentle smile on the detective's lips, her freckles and a single dimple on her cheek highlighted under the golden light of the few candles still lit atop her desk.

Rook smiled, too, at how Neve's eyes softened just for her. The detective placed down her pen, notes being pushed aside as she made room for Rook in the privacy of another sleepless night. A silent 'you're a welcome surprise.'

There was no need for their usual 'you're up late', 'you're awake to notice'. They both already knew.

"Hey." Rook walked forward, placing one of the mugs on Neve's desk. "I brought you coffee."

Neve's smile became a little teasing. She blinked, slow and tired, as she reached for the mug. Faint dark circles marked the skin below her eyes. "How thoughtful."

Rook's shrug held the same kind of weight, "I try." She moved to sit on Neve's cot, back slumped against the wall, just under the gift she'd given Neve when she was hoping to get the detective to like her more.

Rook closed her eyes. She hadn't taken a single sip of her coffee yet, which was steadily growing colder.

Moments of silence followed, with only the distant sound of the wisps thrilling at the new presence in the room and the ever so characteristic hum of the fade's magic. Until Rook heard shuffling, and the familiar click of Neve's prosthetic as she walked.

There was enough space for both of them to sit on the cot comfortably without touching, but as Neve sat down, her shoulder pressed closely against Rook's. The quietness of the fade's night engulfed them in something intimate and warm, a slice of peace away from the outside world.

Rook's eyes remained closed, yet she could feel the deep breath that Neve took, and she followed suit taking a breath of her own, then rested her head back on the wall. Maybe both of them were after some kind of comfort, drawn together in the dead of night once more.

"Your thoughts are loud tonight." Neve's voice had never been as soft as it was now. Rook felt the weight of her gaze. "What about?"

Rook feared that if Neve were to ask her to spill her darkest secrets, she would, without a second thought. "I… don't know what Varric saw in me." The words simply fell past her lips. She held a pause, then opened her eyes and turned to the woman beside her.

Neve's eyes glinted with curiosity and… something more tender. One side of her mouth raised in a lopsided smile she tried to hide. "Someone who tends to think in straight lines?"

A weak chuckle escaped Rook, and she felt her cheeks warm up. Echoes of the same words from the day they'd met—the day everything went wrong—Rook's gaze followed a path from the slope of Neve's nose to the arch of her eyebrow and above, where a recent scar now marked her brown skin.

And Rook's guilt must have been clear as day on her face, because Neve's smile turned to something sympathetic and bittersweet. She bumped her knee onto Rook's, leaning a little closer. "Someone who chases… Trouble. Someone who doesn't give up…"

Rook kept quiet, only noticing how Neve traced the rim of her mug with her thumb and then looked away, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. Rook couldn't remember ever seeing the detective nervous, she didn't think the other woman ever felt it.

A moment of hesitation and pensive silence lingered. Neve shifted her gaze to Rook again. "Someone with a good heart."

Was it an answer to her question, or was this how Neve saw her? Rook wasn't sure which she preferred, but the thought of Neve being so… aware of her, sent a chill down Rook's spine.

"But it wasn't enough." She muttered. If it weren't for the quietness of the night, maybe Neve wouldn't have heard her. "At Weisshaupt, I… I can't stop thinking that I could've done more. That I should have-" With a groan, Rook took a long sip of her now lukewarm coffee, only to buy herself time. It tasted bitter on her tongue and made her grimace.

"We gave our all, Rook." Neve spoke, with a kind of calmness that Rook envied. She took a long sip of her coffee as well. "You gave your all. You were- you were ready to die for it, I know." And suddenly, her voice stumbled with the words, as if the thought of speaking them out loud troubled her.

Rook wanted to ask why. But she didn't. Instead, she allowed her guilt to drip and bleed past her defenses. "And still… so many Wardens died instead." Rook's knuckles turned white with the force of her grip on the mug. She could still feel the weight of the lyrium dagger in her hand and how it almost whispered to her, taunting. A target painted on her back and still she remained. "Somehow, I feel like… part of that is on me."

Wisps stirred, they floated and roamed near the ceiling, blue tendrils ghosting over Neve's notes pinned with red threads on her clue board. The detective narrowed her eyes at them from afar. They are always restless, growing even more so whenever Rook comes around. Neve had notes about that, another little mystery.

Did the wisps know something she didn't?

"It's Ghilan'nain's fault." Neve shifted closer to Rook, her shoulder a warm and comforting presence. She wouldn't admit that Rook did the same for her. "No one else's."

Rook sighed. Placed her mug on the floor and slumped back against the wall—she's never been the biggest fan of coffee anyway.

The quiet felt almost always comfortable with Neve. Besides Harding and Varric, the detective was the only one who'd been at her side since they found Solas, and it all started falling apart. Sometimes, Neve felt like an anchor, steadying her in the middle of a tempestuous sea.

Telltales of the siege were hard to shake. If Rook closed her eyes for too long, she'd be back there, staring down a god with her heart lodged in her throat. For a moment then, she was so sure she was going to die.

But she couldn't crumble, not now. Rook knew, that Weisshaupt was far from being their final battle.

Rook chose instead to focus on the steady rise and fall of Neve's breathing that she could faintly feel, because of how pressed together the two of them were. She focused on the sweet and soothing perfume of Neve's hair. She focused on things she shouldn't be focusing on, and even so, her heartbeat calmed down. The consequences could wait another night.

Out of boldness or desperation—or simply because she'd been so tired—Rook dropped her head to Neve's shoulder.

The detective's breath caught in her throat when she felt it; Rook leaning into her and staying there. Neve sat stiffly, back straight and knees pressed together, feeling out of place in her own room because when was the last time someone had sought her out this much without asking for anything in return but her presence?

It felt… foreign, to be wanted. Not for a case, not for a job that could or could not get her killed—but simply for the comfort of existing in the same place, at the same time.

Neve's nails tapped the ceramic of her mug, a rhythmic sound following the rapid beating of her heart. Until it stopped, because close still didn't feel close enough. That same hand reached for Rook's. Neve grimaced at her own actions, but she didn't stop; timid fingers traced the skin of Rook's wrist, almost afraid.

With a long and shaky exhale past her lips, Neve willed her body to relax, told her cynical mind that just for one night it would be okay; the moment would be tucked away and forgotten as soon as the sun rose in the sky come morning. Tentatively, Neve leaned her cheek on top of Rook's head. In the same beat, she closed her eyes tight, lest tears would fall and Rook would feel them and that would be a whole other onslaught of questions none of them were quite ready for.

Because they chased trouble. And one too many times, Rook almost paid the price, right before her eyes. And Neve refused to think about how it made her feel. She couldn't afford that; none of them could. The air around them was charged with electricity; they both felt it, though none dared acknowledge it.

Neve's thumb pressed gently onto Rook's pulse point, holding there for a second or two as she felt the reassuring rhythm, before tracing a path forward. The detective mapped the ridges and bumps of the other woman's palm, memorizing how she felt beneath her touch.

All the while Rook held her breath, mouth going dry. Because she could feel Neve's lips grazing her hairline with each intake of air. Because Neve's touch was so soft, so warm against the coldness of her hand. She spread her fingers, a silent invitation that was just as shy.

Maybe a little too eager, Neve slipped her fingers between Rook's, intertwining their hands together. Her grip was strong and present, as if grounding herself.

Rook felt insistent tears welling up on the bottom lid of her eyes. Her thumb brushed back and forth against the skin of Neve's hand. Oh, she hadn't realized how much she craved this kind of closeness, of comfort. And maybe, just maybe, Neve had been just as desperate for it.

Why they had chosen each other remained as a blurry answer, almost as blurry as the lines they'd already crossed.

"I'm glad…" Neve began after what felt like hours of silence, her voice becoming surprisingly wobbly and quiet and raw. She gulped, taking a breath before starting again; "I'm glad we made it out."

In the same heartbeat, Rook was biting back her tears and nodding softly. She squeezed Neve's hand tighter. Amidst so much death and destruction, they had been lucky. "Yeah, I am too."

It was enough. For this one night, it was enough.

They held each other steady, none willing to leave the other's side, and both fell asleep at the same moment.

Restless hearts, eased into calmness when beating together, at the same rhythm.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Next chapter coming soon

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Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

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[twst-hottest-takes]

When Pomefiore first came out on the JP server a few years ago, I genuinely thought that Neige's cutesiness was just an act and that he was far darker behind closed doors. But, nope. Turns out that Neige is completely "what you see is what you get", and that really threw me off. I'm not the only one. I'm not the only one. Other fic writers in this fandom like LeaderPinhead have said that they thought the same thing.

While it's fine that Yana never went in that direction, she never did anything with his character either. He's just a cardboard cutout for Vil to sneer at and literally nothing else. It's so bad that Vil ironically is the better Snow White analog. Vil is similar to her personality wise, being hardworking, adaptable, assertive and at times kind. He has plenty of flaws like being overly domineering, being too blunt and harsh among other things, but that's a good thing. Those negative traits only make him feel like a real person and a modern male version of Snow White. Neige's similarities are limited to only his looks. His backstory makes no sense and comes right out of nowhere. (Seriously, why wasn't he and the dwarves taken in by Child Protective Services, if he was a minor in modern times?) That's such a waste to me. Neige is the antagonist of the Pomefiore arc, so there should be more to him than that.

However, if I wrote this story, I would do just that. Make Vil the one based on Snow White and Neige is based on the Evil Queen, being like Maurice Cole from Black Butler.

While I haven't read Black Butler, from what I heard from one of my friends and after watching a summary video of the Public School Arc, Cole is Redmond's helper (not using the manga's term because it's a slur). He has a cutesy demeanor, coming off as courteous and polite. He is beloved in the school. Behind closed doors, he's the worst, and, in all honesty, is like a modern version of the Evil Queen. He's a vain asshole, who hates hard work, and frequently leaves his duties to those beneath him. He is willing to resort to underhanded methods to get what he wants. When someone does something better than him, he will make sure to knock them down.

Why couldn't Neige be more like that? Don't get me wrong. I don't think Neige should've been a copy and paste of that other character. Hell, I would argue that differentiating them is a good thing. Not only to change things up, but according to that same friend, he's boring and lazily written. Plus, I don't see Neige doing one of Cole's despicable actions being ever greenlit by Disney. But I think giving Neige some of those same traits would be a step in the right direction. That way he would have a personality and be an actual threat to Vil.

I have seen a lot of people say similar things about their expectations for Neige actually.

Thank you for your take.

You've made a very thoughtful entry here, and I will leave it mostly for others to read and respond to because I think this is an interesting conversation to be had.

My own thoughts are short, that I definitely like the idea of Neige being more characterized so that he can be more of, you know, a character, but I never really liked the idea of him being secretly nasty. I feel like there's too much stock in the corruption of innocence and really would like to have a character as straightforward and just nice as Snow White was--though to be fair we do have Kalim already so people might not want another character too similar to him. In any case maybe a fun idea would be Vil being paranoid about Neige like "No one of his celebrity is that nice!" and part of his beef with him is being annoyed by the idea that Neige is just that genuine. TWST fails at making much out of that rivalry though. With Yana's writing history for Black Butler and such I don't blame people for thinking there should have been a darker side here.

[bonny-kookoo]

Hey, I found Sweet Tooth and absolutely loved it.

I wanted to ask you if you'd write an intermediate scenario or something before she's warmed up to Yoongi, where she throws a tantrum and hurts herself, and they go to the doctor, where she overhears someone advising Jimin that it's totally normal to let go of a problematic hybrid or pet especially if your partner doesn't like them, and there are shelters that take them in?

And with her heightened Cat hearing it freaks her out into shutting her tantrums down long term - but jimin is oblivious to her fear because things are going so well with Yoongi?

"So, just for protocol, how exactly did it happen?" A nurse asks, while you're being treated in another room, door slightly opened just in case she's needed at any point.

"She.. her living situation changed quite drastically. And she has trouble adapting." Jimin admits to her gently, tone soft to not be heard by you. "My partner and her.. don't get along very well. And she sometimes acts a bit out, which causes accidents like this." He further details, sighing. "They were fighting over something, and my partner accidentally closed the door on her tail as she went out. It was absolutely not intentional!"

"Hm, yeah, it's sometimes hard for hybrids to adapt. You also have another hybrid?" She asks, reading your medical info on the computer screen while she taps away some more info.

"Yes, my partner's. A canine hybrid." He informs her, and she nod.

"You know, it's a totally reasonable thing to think about moving one out." She suggests to jimin, who's face starts to become a little confused and irritated. "Giving her past history, she's a bit problematic, so her behavior is quite natural. There's tons of good places for hybrids like her though- since it's generally recommended to keep hybrids of both her category and behavioral issues in stable families as a single hybrid."

"Thats.. no, she's just.." jimin stammers, having never even thought about it once. But how are you feeling right now? Is he really doing the right thing, or is he just being selfish by hoping you'll adapt at some point?

And will you really adapt, or just admit defeat?

"I'll write down some numbers, alright? It's your choice to make." She suggests gently. He can sense that she really only has your best interest in mind. "This down here is Dr. Kim Taehyung, he's an expert in hybrid behavioral therapy. He might even take her in himself!" She suggests, before giving jimin the note. "Think about it."

He doesn't have to. He could never give you away like that.

Back home, something's definitely wrong though, ecer since that incident. You're quiet, detached, don't even interact with Jungkook anymore- the poor canine hybrid having tried everything from your favorite snacks to a collection of his personal favorite plushies. Nothing seems to get a reaction out of you anymore.

And what's the oddest, is how you just.. listen to whatever yoongi tells you to do.

Wash the dishes? You'll do it, quietly. You'll even dry them and put them away to your best abilities.

Make your bed? You even do laundry if he tells you to, even though you struggle to memorize all the different settings and programs.

Set the table? You'll just do it, robotically, not even a roll of your eyes.

One might think yoongi would enjoy this new, quiet side of you- but he doesn't. The guilt about accidentally hurting you that day still eats him alive, the sound of your painful cries still haunting him in his sleep.

Jimin, however, doesn't seem to realize the secerity of the situation. He tries to reassure his partner by saying that you'll just need some time, that hospitals just spook you, and that you maybe just want to be a good girl for once.

But Jungkook especially, is concerned. This isn't like you, and it's not a normal change of mind either. No one just flips around like a switch over night like that.

"I'll go to work now, yeah?" Jungkook tells you- but you just nod, no protest coming from you. Jungkook's ears droop down, tail limp behind him as he throws Yoongi a helpless look, before he leaves for work, leaving you and the oldest human alone in the house.

"Alright, I'm done with this." He says, and you look at him at that, fearful.

He hates it. Why are you scared of him?

"I promise you, I didn't mean to hurt you that day." Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, before he sits down on the couch next to you, with respectful distance. "I'm sorry. I really am."

"Its fine." You just state, but he shakes his head.

"Its not fine. Nothing is fine at all." He denies. "Is there anything else that happened? Something bothering you?" He asks, but you just shake your head. "If you don't want to talk to me, then talk to Jimi-"

"He wants to give me away." You say, pulling up your legs to yourself.

"...what?" Yoongi asks in disbelief. Jimin loves you- he'd never give you away- he'd probably much rather admit defeat in this relationship than give you up.

"The nurse and him.. talked about stuff." You mumble into your knees. "He got like.. she wrote down some numbers for him. One of them a doctor.. for behavior problems and stuff.." you explain, tail wrapping around yourself in comfort. "Because it's alright to give up shitty hybrids like me. You know." You shrug. "Cause I'm supposed to be alone."

"Thats bullshit." Yoongi declines, crossing his arms. "Everything about this. He'd never give you away, and neither are you shitty or supposed to be alone." He denies, getting up to get his phone- accidentally digging in the pockets of the wrong coat, fingers finding a note instead.

Three numbers. One of them labeled 'Dr. Kim Taehyung'

..are you possibly telling the truth? Does jimin really want to go this far just to save his relationship with him? He knows he should probably feel flattered. But he doesn't.

Not one bit.

"Its probably the best." You say from the couch still, looking over the backrest of it, ears down low. He's never seen you this.. insecure before. Vulnerable. "Then you'll all be happy. And maybe I can get fixed." You shrug, when Yoongi walks closer, hand on your head making you look up.

"There's nothing wrong with you." He denies, note clenched in his fist as he just crumples it up. "And you're not going to be alone." He says, walking upstairs into his office.

And you swear, just for a second, his eyes seemed to sparkle a little from unshed tears bubbling up.

[animalsalvationassociation]

[ DO NOT REPOST, ALL ART & CONCEPTS WERE MADE BY ME ]

Digital Illustration Time: 5hrs 29min

✨ Old Design ✨

Tweak Headcanons . . .

I wanted to take another pass at Tweak but this time try for that green we all know her in. I found some references on Pinterest that really inspired me to go for this swampy, almost lichen color.

[ Headcanons Ahead ]

For Tweak's dad, Ranger Marsh, you'll see some strands of that bright green I put in her last design. I think I'll keep it as an homage to my first try. And maybe I can headcanon that he tried to dye his hair for his daughter (to stay hip as they say) but accidentally chose the wrong green so that's why it ended up being so bright.

Her mother's side of the family actually adapted to the swamp by changing their fur color to match the mud and the moss. So Tweak got her mom's fur but got her dad's eyes.

I didn't even mean for it to happen but both Tweak and her dad (we're gonna pretend that Kwazii doesn't have one too lol) have a scar under their right eye. And honestly I think it would show as a sign of how similar they really are deep down.

Maybe they don't look the same or sometimes even act the same but they both carry the same scars. They both loved Tweak's mom and tried to live the way she would've wanted them to. They both try to help people, the animals, even the environment. Sure they butt heads sometimes but what father-daughter duo doesn't?

They both care about each other but sometimes its hard to show how much they care. Especially without Terry (her mom) to merge the gap.

Captain Barnacles / Kwazii / Peso / Dashi / Shellington / Inkling / Vegimals

[ This is a Octonauts AU, in no way is this canon to the OG storyline. ]

[beeperis]

if only

warnings; discussions of death, grief, angst pairing; old man! logan x reader reuploaded from my ao3!

Your fingers glanced over the pages, turning to the next. Before you was another familiar illustration, this time of the white rabbit. Of course, you knew what was next. You were barely even reading from the pages anymore. It was easier at this point to recite from memory, you thought.

Your voice was that of a classical piano to Logan. In his eyes, you were a magnificent storyteller, even if he'd never say that out loud to protect his masculinity. What little masculinity he had left at least--from lying in his bed, coughing up blood and wheezing--was sacred. You didn't deserve to see him in that state.

You'd been reading him one of your favorite books, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, ever since the doctor told him he didn't have much longer. Looking into your eyes was so hard; he couldn't stand how much hope was in them. It felt like it was killing him faster.

Though a nonreligious man, Logan prayed he wouldn't die before you could finish the story. For your sake.

"...when suddenly, a white rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her." There came your voice again. So sweet with a melody unaware of what was to come. He held back another rattling cough as to not interrupt your fantasy.

You must have heard his wheezing breaths, because you stopped. It was a rather uncomfortable quiet, so Logan broke it. "Why'd you quit?" He rasped out. Looking over at you instead of at the ceiling, slivers of moonlight from the window reflected off fresh tears from your cheeks. "Oh, no. None of that, angel."

With a voice much shakier than before, you resumed from the paragraph you stopped at. "In another moment, down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out of it." Even on the verge of tears, you were still so pleasant to listen to.

Logan never much cared for reading. In his older age he'd adapted to a quieter, more serene life, but never once had he thought to pick up a book such as the one you were reading now. Come to think of it, he was a toddler when the story was written.

But in that moment, he found himself paying attention to the characters. You reminded him of Alice. Always in your own world, so full of hope in a hopeless situation, so eager to pursue what cannot be pursued. He saw himself as the white rabbit. Mainly because he was running away from time, and managed to catch your eye during the 200-year-long flee.

"I wish we could stay on this page," you murmured sadly. Noticing you'd stopped reading again, Logan perked up. "Why?" You brought your knees to your chest to hug them. "I don't know, it's stupid. Maybe the longer I read to you, the longer you'll be around to hear it," you paused to sniffle, "I can't imagine not having you to read to."

If he wasn't already dying, that would've killed him on the spot. Logan took a deep breath through battered lungs. "You gotta. Books don't just stop because you want them to. They need an ending, and it's there regardless of how long you wait on one page." His words sounded harsher than he'd intended, but he couldn't bear the thought of you lingering on him and never finishing your story.

As soon as he saw your lip quivering, he wondered if he should've kept his mouth shut. Still, he pulled you into one of the tightest hugs his fleeting strength would allow. The wetness of your tears were like thousands of needles in his heart. Logan patted your back softly, listening as you seemed to be crying yourself to sleep. "G'night. You know I'll always love you." Quieter, he whispered, "that's the only part of the ending that won't change."