#both in terms of i refuse to put a child through that

[stars-in-a-jam-jar]

(So I feel the desire to chime in because I forced myself through this run for YouTube Video Reasons and have what I believe to be a not insignificant amount of tools to break down what's up with Sun King in the Moon Knight comics. But just so my mutuals who are not Deeply Invested In Moon Knight can follow: these panels are from the Max Bemis run of Moon Knight comics which I hate. The character with burn scars on his hands is called Sun King and was made for this run by Bemis himself. The doctor speaking to him was created by Jeff Lemire in the run directly preceeding commonly regarded as one of the best Moon Knight runs in the character's history. Bemis has decided to Add Things to her character in this run. This was a bad decision.)

The characters who engage with any form of the psychiatric in the Max Bemis run speak as if someone who was deeply antipsych and a little bad at writing was trying to write a cautionary tale of why the system gets people fucking killed, EXCEPT YOU THE AUDIENCE ARE SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE THE SYSTEM IS NOT THE PROBLEM??????? It's repeatedly presented in this run as a constant and a generally neutral entity, but Sun King's character and his arc and relationship to Moon Knight DIRECTLY CONTRADICTS this idea with the way they and everything around the both of them is written in both this run AND the run directly preceeding.

The entirety of Sun King's arc is about him learning how to negotiate and cooperate with that system in order to not be a danger to society. But if you want me to believe this man being in psychiatric care is a good thing For Anyone, maybe don't have the inciting incident of his entry into the plot be him burning down the mental institution he's being kept in a few pages after this exchange, killing 99% of people inside. If you want me to believe this man being in psychiatric care is a good thing For Anyone, maybe don't have the things other doctors say at him and his companion later in the run (another new character don't worry about it) be so patently a one-sided lecture that makes him visibly more and more frustrated as time goes on and doesn't seem to make him any more stable and happy than Moon Knight punching some clarity into him did. If you want me to believe this man being in psychiatric care is a good thing For Anyone, Maybe Give Him A Goddamn Name??????

He starts his arc depersonalized at the hands of the psychiatric institutions that incorrectly label his latent pyrokinesis and connection to an extradimensional implied-despot god as hallucinations and symbols he's using as tools to hide from The Real Reality that he's too damaged and unwell to acheive a worthwhile place in the world and society. He must make himself More Like A Real Person, and the way to do that is to regain access to the memories he's lost to amnesiac blackouts and admit he's a bad person who's done bad and should be normal. He's called Patient 86.

He calls himself Sun King in reference to Ra, a name he didn't even come up with and which identifies him as an extension of a god he later openly calls a bitch. Marc and company also do this with Khonshu whilst calling themselves Moon Knight, but importantly all of the system members also have their own names! By the end of his arc, Sun King re-admits himself into yet another mental hospital, saying he still has some healing and growing to do (implying he'll get a name when he's Earned One) and I'm like 'All of your healing and growing happened OUTSIDE of these institutions, my guy!! With your buddy you're going in there without!!!'

Him shutting himself away in the same place he started the narrative without a name is framed as a happy ending where he's realized so much more of himself than he ever could without his encounters with everyone up to this point, and that's partially correct but in what way is he done justice and given closure by going back into his little box for crazy people?

Why should we believe this will make him happy? Fulfilled? Better as a person and member of society? His narrative starts with a doctor who's obsessing over a different patient that isn't even under her anymore and waxing philosophical about how it's enriching to truly dig into and talk to the insane— her telling him 'You can redeem yourself for being bad in these moments you have no memory of if you stop being crazy, and the way to do that is to use these things you're associating yourself with as an avenue to achieve redemption and get those memories.'

Get the fuck out of here, shut the FUCK up, who greenlit this fucking comic run? They should be fired.

Ok all things considered it's not super bad so far, there are iffy things and... I don't like they're going this hard with the med talk because I don't have the tools to be able to know whether they're saying something legit or utter bullshit.

[prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue]

New Beginings

-> Arlecchino (genshin) inspired reader ( reader is also addressed as arlecchino) aka ur basically arlecchino in this imagine

-> Jason todd wakes up in a forest , abandoned and confused as he comes to terms with his painful resurrection until he's adopted by someone named 'father' . All goes well until his adopted family finds him and wants him back.

Platonic relationship!!

Jason’s POV

Blood . Blood and the smell of burnt flesh sticks to me like a plague , it follows me like a predator and tightens its sharp fangs around me . I feel utterly hopeless and I wander around aimlessly. Trees as tall as the sky surround me and the only living creature here is myself and death himself . Twigs and leaves stick to my bare feet as I trudge through the greenage . I roamed for god’s know how long but my swollen feet carried me to a lake. I collapse onto the ground and hover above the water - and that's it

That's when I saw him. Dead green eyes stare right back at me , his skin is pale like the dead and his hair - his bloody hair had a mocking white tuff at the front . He - no I scream , filled with pain , anger , confusion , frustration . That is not me - he is not me . My once boyish innocence was robbed and replaced with more manlier features , chubby cheeks replaced for high cheekbones that could surely put any male model to shame but he looks so dead .

His eyes and his complexion are that of the dead maybe because he was supposed to be . In his screaming agony he slammed his hands into the water resulting in him recoiling , the excruciating pain practically ate him alive . He looks down at his hands and he almost vomits . His palms were covered in a deep purplish bruise that practically stung . He lets out another scream mixed with a cry , why - why must it be him ? What did he ever do to deserve such a cruel faith , a faith meant for those condemned to hell ? Maybe this is hell - his own personal living hell . He cries into the grass like a pathetic child as he recalls the distant yet agonizing memory of a bomb ticking and the overwhelming feeling of fire consuming him .

So why - when he was finally put out of his misery did nature drag him back from the depths of the abyssal darkness into this hell . He was just angry - at himself , at the world and at batman. Why must only he suffer ?

He continues crying until he hears a twig snap . Like a wounded animal , he immediately seized his movement and began looking around frantically . The air around him grew cold and quiet . His frantic eyes scanned everywhere until it landed on the figure in the distance . He watches as she approaches him with deliberate steps . He could feel his own anxiousness bubble up within him but still - he gets up , relentless in backing down now . He stalks her , shooting her a glare yet she gives away nothing wearing a blank face.

She stops at an arm length poised. Her white hair dances in the blowing wind yet her eyes - piercing black eyes with a haunting red ‘x’ for an iris - a promise of a terrifying demise . Silence envelopes them both as they observe one another . “ You’re hurt, “ she says with a deadpan tone . Anger consumes him , she is just like him - just like bloody Bruce Wayne , his so-called father , cold and unmoving as if they were above everyone else.

He snarls and lunges at her but she swiftly kicks him in his chest , her sharp heel digging into the sensitive flesh of his back. “ Let go of me you bloody wrench” he curses as he squirms - he couldn’t give up not yet , not ever - he refused to give in. “ Stand down child you are hurt “ she says and to push her point further she presses her heel further into his back. He lets out a cry but manages to grab ahold of her leg and throw her into a nearby tree.

She manages to balance herself by using her heels to ground herself . Jason , seeing this, starts running in her opposite direction . He weaves in and out of the prickling branches - not minding the way they claw into his back and face leaving behind raw marks . He huffs as he jumps over a fallen log but is cut off guard when he hears footsteps behind him . He risks a peak and no doubt - she is following after him .

He huffs - frustrated , tired and frankly done with this ordeal but he continues to dart in and out between the trees . Jason makes a move to dart behind another tree when she leaps in front of him - absolutely startling him to death . He attempts to turn around but she delivers a swift kick to his head and suddenly , he feels himself go under.

Arlecchino's POV

She watches Jason’s crumbled form laid out on the red velvet cushions of the car through the rear mirror . She has no shadow of a doubt that the young boy is a mess but that doesn’t deter the parental instinct of protecting him . This wasn’t her first time meeting a child in such a roughed up state - her orphanage is filled with them but she has never ever heard a child scream in such agony . Before all of this - she was simply driving back home - her children eagerly awaiting her return to start dinner but something in her gut told her to pull aside and investigate . It was highly irrational and utterly dangerous but she was glad she did it because when she stared at the sweet boy laying in her backseat - she knew that she had to take care of him.

It wasn’t too long after Arlecchino arrived at the house of hearth - a mansion carefully tucked away into a tall mountain , vines practically climbed on the limestone walls of the castle-like mansion and its black gates while the black roof wore crow trimmings . Arlecchino carefully manoeuvres her car around the fountain , parking the car in front of a sea of cobblestone steps . She steps out , carefully fixing her coat as a crow flew down and landed on her shoulder .

“ Inform the children that we have a new guest” she says calmly . The crow nods at her before flying off . Moments pass before Arlecchino opens the back door and carefully picks Jason up bridal style . She leaned his head into the crook of her neck and began ascending the stairs . Despite the dreary , abandoned look the House of Hearth adorned outside - the inside was filled with laughter and warmth.

As soon as she stepped into the threshold , she can hear plates and chairs being rummaged around and the sound of children laughing and talking . She ascends another flight of stairs before stopping in front of a door . She lets out a gentle hum and the door is opened by another crow , wordlessly , she enters the room and lays Jason onto the bed . The crow perches on the bed post as it eyes her tucking a blanket over him .

“ Watch over him and summon a healer to treat his wounds ….. When he wakes up please alert me immediately “ she orders . The crow croons as it watches her leave .

Jason’s POV

He grumbles as he sinks further into the warm , soft feeling under him - he feels ease for some reason and then that's when the memories of last night jolts him awake . He sits up - still groggy from sleep as he examines his area . He determines he’s in a bedroom as he observes the dark green wallpaper that covers his room , an antique wooden desk and chair is tucked away in a corner and a matching antique wardrobe and vanity sit opposite the room . The room had wide , white windows that were framed by golden curtains - this was definitely something from those dark academia books he used to read in his youth and he hates to admit it but it's all nice .

Jason examines himself - his arms and torso were wrapped in bandages and he was only dressed in grey sweats . So this wasn’t some sick concoction of his mind - all of yesterday did happen. Jason felt lost - he felt so unsure of what to make of the situation anymore , of his feelings anymore - he’s now stuck in a body that doesn’t even feel like his - nothing doesn’t feel like his anymore - he feels like a puppet just being stringed on by his cruel master .

His inner turmoil is suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door . Jason holds his breath for a moment as the door opens and the same person from last night walks in - Jason observes her , she’s dressed down in a black work shirt and black slacks but her white hair cascades down her face and he finally realizes that she has streaks of black and red peaking through , her hands were black as if they were stained with ink but something tells him it’s more to it , he observes that she wears minimal jewelry and makeup not like she needed any - the woman before him looked ethereal .

“ Good Morning “ she greets him as she sits at the edge of his bed . Jason straightens but makes no move to attack her “ My name is Arlecchino or The Knave but the children of the Hearth call me Father “ She introduced herself . Jason nods , he’s heard of the Hearth , an orphanage for children determined to have no hope or home . “ Jason Todd but I …..used to be Robin “ he trails off . Arlecchino nods . “ I figured you were a vigilante with those reflexes last night “ she says. Jason just nods .

Silence envelopes them. “ Look if you’re going to pawn me off to Batman -” but she cuts him off , “ I’m not pawning you off anywhere Jason , if you choose to stay here or go back to him that’s fine with me , all I ask is that you recover “ Arlecchino says with finality. Jason stills - he feels everything crumble around him - she’s supposed to be fighting no ? supposed to already be gutting him open and delivering him to batman or holding him hostage or hell experimenting on him . Arlecchino stares at him . “ If you are wondering why you’re not in a body bag or what not - that's because mother is no longer in charge of the hearth anymore , although I am not better person but I would not harm a child - albeit enemy or not “ Arlecchino says as she plays around with the singular ring on her hand.

Jason gives her a perplex look , he remembers back in his old Robin days - Arlecchino’s name was #4 on Gothams most wanted - her gruesome murders kept the media buzzing all month around especially when she was allegedly suspected of killing a wealthy pharmaceutical president . He eyed her wearily - she could kill him , he could run away - run away where ? Bruce thinks he’s dead - he was dead - now he's alive and suddenly all he feels is anger.

“ Jason “ Arlecchino calls out as she senses his unease . Jason glares at her . “ What do you want from me - you people resurrect me to do what threatens Batman ? He wouldn’t bloody buy into it because he is a monster that leaves children to die “ he spits out in distaste . Arlecchino looks at him . “ I didn’t resurrect you Jason , I don’t know who or why they resurrected you but I found you and I intend to take care of you until you can take care of yourself .” Arlecchino says firmly .

Jason stares at her . Moments of silence passed between them until he finally asked , “ Why ? Why care so much ?” .

“ Because that's what a good father does , he cares, “ Arlecchino explains . Those words hung heavy in the air . “ Breakfast would be served to you , you are free to explore though it is advised you rest , if you do need me ask one of the crows and I shall come to you “ Arlecchino says before walking out and closing the door to his room softly.

True to her word - food did arrive to him , by a crow , the little guy squeaked before he curled up next to Jason while he ate - he would admit it’s very Harry Potter and it shouldn’t be making him happy . Jason reminisces over Dick , Bruce and Alfred - does his family miss him ? Do they look for him ? Think about him anymore ? All questions but no answers . He munches on his sandwich as he also ponders on the earlier conservations . Does she care about him ? Why should she when he’s a nobody ?

Jason gives up but decides to take a walk . He opens the door and is greeted by a hallway , decorated in an off -white wallpaper and covered in vintage paintings . He carefully walks into the hallway , observing through the same white , wide windows that showcase the delicate greenery outside . The crow eagerly follows him , landing on his shoulder and affectionately rubs against his cheek.

Jason wandered off a bit but ultimately sat on a windowsill and admired the outside for a while - he was just contempt with being alone . He didn't know how long he’d been but the crow began to squawk at him and flew down an opposite hall . Jason follows after the crow down the hall and is introduced to a dining room . A large chandelier hung above them , the room had large open windows that let in light , there were rows and rows of tables filled with kids ranging from all ages eating lunch .

Jason awkwardly walks in . People stopped eating to wave at him or even smile , some even greeted him with a ‘ good afternoon ‘ . Jason approaches a table at the front of the room and there , Arlecchino sits at the head table enjoying a sandwich while being surrounded by a bunch of crows . , his own crow landed next to her and squawked . Arlecchino looks up from the crow , to him and beacons him over . “ Jason, come eat with me “ she invites him . Jason walked over to her and sat in the seat directly next to hers . A plate of pasta appeared before him and Arlecchino beaconed him to eat. Jason eyes it but eats it anyways and god did it taste good .

Arlecchino allows a little smile to show on her face before she resumes to her own meal . “ Jason , this is my son Lyney , Lyney this is Jason our esteemed guest “ Arlecchino introduces Jason to the boy opposite him . He flashes Jason a toothy smile and throws him a card of red 8 hearts . “ Welcome Jason it’s an honour to have you here “ Lyney says animatedly. Jason smiled and nodded . “ Likewise “ he responded.

“ So Jason, what are your plans after recovery ?” Lyney inquires . Jason stills and glances at Arlecchino’s way . “ I plan to stay here …. If that's okay with you “ he asks . Arlecchino raised her brow . “ Jason I already told you that you’re welcome to stay as long as you want “ she says with a matter of fact tone . Jason nods , “ I don’t want to be a burden to any of you “ he explains . “ You aren’t and will never be a burden to any of us “ Arlecchino says with certainty . For the first time in a long time - Jason smiles .

5 months later

Arlecchino POV

It has been five months since Jason has come into our lives , it's been a change - a good change for all of this , I watch from my office window and Jason and Lyney play football in the garden with the other boys of the orphanage - safe to say Jason has adapted to us . He’s still closed off , still a bit awkward but nevertheless doing much better than when he came here . Since the five months per his request , I’ve been looking into his resurrection and so far nothing but dead ends , I’ve heard nothing from his father - or should I say batman ? I’m not entirely sure but last week Jason approached me in my personal office and told me about his family’s vigilante life in detail .

At first I thought he was kidding about the robin thing but it turns out that batman has a habit of having multiple robins and he was one of them . I recall him crying after it thinking I’d kick him out of the hearth - being a criminal and all and the fear of him betraying me but I reassured him that I didn’t care about his parentage or his past , that I only cared about the present.

We made some progress on our relationship and he has taken to calling me ‘ dad ‘ which made me happy . I sipped on my tea as I observed the boys until a crow landed next to me . “ Mr.Wayne in front “ It croaked . I spared it a glance as worry course through me , “ Summon for Jason and order the children to their rooms , all crows on guard “ I ordered .

This leads to now - the Hearth was empty save for Jason and myself in my work office . “ Dad - I don’t know what to do, “ Jason confessed as he paced up and down . I observed him . The moment he came in my office and I overlaid the message my son has been a wreck and it breaks my heart . “ Jason , no matter what I won’t let you get in harm's way “ I reassured him . Jason looks at me for a moment before he nods . “ Okay Dad - I’ll face him". He says before sitting next to me . I nod and gesture to a nearby crow to allow Bruce Wayne in.

Jason’s POV

I watched nervously as Dad ordered the crow to let Bruce in . I was shaking , nervousness and anger course through me at the same time , for once my life has been going well since my resurrection and now - now he wants me ? Now he cares about me ? I observed Dad’s face and I could tell she’s worried and I hate worrying about her because she’s always working so hard and she's always making sure all of us are well loved and cared for . I side hugged her as I eyed the door .

“ Dad, I love you “ I confess. I could feel her freeze under my hold and then I began to feel scared because what if she doesn't want me -

“ I love you too son “ she answered back and squeezed me and I smiled at the mention of ‘son’.

The door opens and lord and behold - in walks Bruce Wayne and two other young boys. Bruce looks at me in shock and worry before he looks at Dad and gives him a nasty glare and I swear it takes everything in me to not punch him. “ Welcome , Mr.Wayne to the House of Hearth , I am The Knave, how can I help you ?” Dad says in a deadpan tone . Bruce is still glaring at her but takes a seat in the chair in front of her huge mahogany desk . The younger of the two boys looks around with a snare while the other just stares ahead in boredom.

“ Let’s get to the chase shall we Knave ? You have my son and I want him back “ Bruce states matter of factly. I growl in anger - Now I'm his son ? I release my hands from hugging dad , ready to punch him but dad places her hand on my shoulder . “ Mr.Wayne , while I do agree that he is your legal son , I found him abandoned and lost in a forest and likewise as a parent myself I took him in “ Father said in a deadpan tone . “ According to the house’s clinic reports Mr.Wayne , Jason Todd was found with third degree burn mark on his palms , a concussion and a fractured rib and severely underfed “ father continues . Bruce shoots her a glare . “ Given your track record Knave , I won’t put it past you for inflicting those onto my son “ Bruce says with a glare . I seethe in my seat . “ You bastard, how dare you accuse my father of abusing me -” I shouted angrily .

The younger of the two boys growled at me , “ Are you stupid ? You are being held hostage by a wanted criminal and you want us to believe she wouldn’t hurt you ?” he questioned . His father gave him a look but made no move to correct him. Dad rubs my back and I look at her - scared because I feel like I’m being taken away from her - from my own family and I begin to feel like the same hopeless broken little boy she found in that forest. I want to beg her - beg her to just take all of us away to a far away land where we can all be happy and together but I know it’s not gonna happen - Bruce will not let it happen.

“ Putting aside our opinions , It is purely up to Jason on what he wants and wishes “ Dad says with finality. Bruce pursues his lips at that . “ I want to stay here with you Dad “ I say as I hug her . She hugs me back and runs her hand through my hair - attempting to soothe me . “ My son has made his decision; you may now leave “ Dad says . Bruce angrily slammed his hands on the table . “ Stop manipulating my son you - wench “ he curses out he says angrily . I let go from hugging dad and immediately slap Bruce , “ Don’t you ever fucking cuss my dad you piece of shit “ I say angrily . Bruce looks at me - really looks at me and I can see the anger brewing inside , threatening to spill over . “ Jason, if you don’t come home I won’t hesitate to lock her in Arkam’s Asylum. “ he threatens . The other two boys next to him nod in agreement - and finally I realized their plan - we were outnumbered and I won’t let Dad go there of all places - I need her , we all need her here . I sigh and look at Dad . “ Son don’t do this I don’t care what happens to me but I can get you and the other’s somewhere safe -” Dad starts but I cut her off , “ No dad - I can’t bear to know you get arrested and tortured in there because of me “ I say , somber . Dad shakes her head , “ It’s my job to keep you safe Jason -” she starts but I just embrace her for the last time - my mind already made up , “ Da I love you , goodbye “ I say as tears run down my face . Dad embraces me back “ I love you too and I will see you soon son “ she says softly , her voice laced in vulnerability . Before I knew it - I was ripped out of her arms and was being dragged down the halls by Bruce .

Dad chased after me but the younger boy threw a smoke bomb at her and then we vanished.

[vividdreamer]

For a character with so much depth, Lae'zel sure is criminally underrated both in fandom spaces and in-game. I feel like if bg3 had to have one playable character only, Lae'zel would be GROUNDBREAKING — and I know that's an unpopular opinion. But her story could end in so many ways, each challenging your beliefs and leaving you with profound questions about yourself and the world.

Lae'zel wants to care about people but her compassion was beat out of her as a part of her training. Her life was all "kill or be killed" and despite talking about her "kin" with respect and idolation, they're the same people who would have killed her as a child — if she couldn't get to them first. She doesn't have a real family; she never speaks of any best friends, siblings or parental figures. But despite the fact that her life is so void of any warmth, safety, or comfort, she believes it'll be worth it in the end when Vlakith ascends her. That shit feels oddly relatable to me, someone who was raised in an abusive religious environment.

She could continue her death march on the path she was born into, ending her story as a complete tragedy and a gut-twisting lesson: No, actually, there is no point to sufferring. There is no promised good to come after it. No reward for having a "heart of stone," as she puts it. You only lose. Because the thing about powerful beings like Vlakith is that... why would they care about you? How do you think they came to be so powerful in the first place? By being charitable? Ha. You can't have power over people, and remain benevolent and honest at the same time. People won't immediately bend over backwards for you if you aren't at least lying, manipulating, or cheating them in the bargains that you make.

In this case, Vlakith is a lich. She's not interested in giving. She can't become a god without taking her power from somewhere or something. That's the paradox of gods. They have to take, not give, to sustain themselves. Even when they do offer "blessings," it comes in exchange for something that benefits them as a net gain. In the long run, you will lose far more than you gain.

However, Lae'zel's story can also be one of hope — when it doesn't end with her soul consumed. Through small, consistent choices, she can break down the walls obstructing her from vulnerability, compassion, and self-identity. She can choose courage over faith, and question the ways and behaviors she had to take up in order to survive. It's so depressing trying to come to terms with the idea that you might have been cheated your whole life. I wish this theme was explored more in the game. Lae'zel retreating into her tent, withering away in spirit and health as she wonders what her childhood could have been if the circumstances of her birth were any different. Until, one morning, she walks out and goes back to sharpening her sword.

It would be beautiful, moving, and tearful to see it in action! But even with what we've got in the game as it is, you see her gradually start to sympathize for her camp companions as they challenge their own ordeals. She says it pains her to see Shadowheart suffer Shar's wrath after refusing to kill Aylin. She is proud of Astarion for killing Cazador.

And there are so many other moments like that where her inner compassion slips through the cracks, and I think in those moments you see the real Lae'zel. The Lae'zel when she's choosing her own path, taking back her agency, and molding her own identity. A story that could end with her rejecting both Vlakith and Orpheus, because (and she says it herself) her destiny is hers to decide. It's a bittersweet beginning to the rest of her days.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty five

authors note: this chapter is emotionally heavy and taxing. please be mindful of your mental ability to handle heavy content.

cw/tw: angst, discussion of child abuse, and direct accounts of child abuse from said child.

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 10k

Giving Roman his space while also being worried sick about him is the last thing Solana was expecting to experience this week, but it’s exactly where she’s got.

They didn’t leave on the best of terms. It wasn’t hostile, not nasty, and no one was angry. There was just this lingering tension. Some level of animosity and frustration on her part, because he refused to listen to her.

Because he refused to stay.

And that irksome guilt on his part. Solana could see it smoldering every time he looked at her, looked at her face, at the bruise. So much so that Solana went and put makeup on in the hopes that camouflaging it could ebb away some of the undeserved guilt. A fruitless effort because he still packed his bag, still gave her that almost reluctant kiss, still murmured an almost sad ‘I love you’ (that she did not reciprocate), and walked out the door.

He still left her. 

It’s childish to a certain extent. Her behavior during his departure. Solana knows and recognizes this. But, it stems deep down from a deep place of concern. She’s worried sick about him, hates that he hates himself for an accident. 

There’s not a single part of her that believes that man would ever lift his hand to her. That’s not her Roman.

What happened truly was an accident. She just wishes she could get him to see that.

She’s hopeful the item she snuck in his bag will help. 

Even if just a little.

The communication between them in the time since he’s been gone is almost non-existent. He texted her when he arrived in Italy and when he made it to the hotel. For that, she was grateful, but she just couldn’t find it in her to offer a written response, settling for hearting his messages. Again, childish. And Solana can recognize that her behavior also stems from just being frustrated with him, angry with him for not staying and going with her plan.

For going so far away to the point that she can’t help him. She just wants to be there for and support him, and all he can seem to do is….is push her away.

And that hurts.

Deeply. 

Especially when he’s been so good in trying and succeeding in supporting her in all of her mess. All she wants to do is return the favor, but he won’t let her. 

And that’s when the anger sets in. Such an unfamiliar experience. 

She’s not an angry person. But, she certainly feels like one.

It’s why she has the thought—or maybe hope—that training will be a good outlet for her to let off some of this uncharacteristic anger. 

If only it happened that way.

Or maybe Solana was too naive. Stupid, possibly, to think she could just walk into training like nothing happened, like the proof of something happening isn’t literally written all over her face in black and blue.

Solana has barely stepped into the training space when the smiles on both Bayley and Naomi’s faces collapse the minute they lay eyes on her.

“Oh my god, Solana!” They rush over, Solana starting to wish she’d taken the time out to use makeup to conceal the bruise. As much as she could. The pigmentation is deep, and even with the heavy application, it was still visible when she tried to hide it for Roman’s sake. “What the hell happened to your face?”

Solana looks away, already regretting her decision to come here in the first place. “I’m fine.”

“What the hell do you mean you’re fine?” Bayley’s eyes are wide, her face painted in disbelief. “Solana, your face is all bruised up.”

An exaggeration. It’s focused on one side of her face, but given the nastiness of its appearance, Solana can slightly understand the description. 

“Solana, what the hell happened?” Naomi repeats her question, this time her lips formed into a line before she asks, “who hit you?” Solana closes her eyes and shakes her head. This is the last thing she needs to be dealing with right now, especially with the nausea that’s starting to build. 

This morning sickness is clearly about to kick her ass with this pregnancy. 

“Solana….” Bayley cuts in, and almost instantly, Solana knows she’s not about to like whatever is said. “Did Roman hit you?”

At that, Solana’s attention is immediately focused back on Bayley. She was absolutely correct in that she doesn’t like the question. At all. 

She can barely find the words to respond to such a thing. “What?”

Naomi looks past her, motioning someone over by them. “Jimmy! Come here.”

Shit. 

And just like that, the situation is progressing from bad to worse. Yeah….she definitely wishes she’d just stayed home. 

“Whassup?” Jimmy’s jovial voice sounds from behind her, Solana barely able to match his smile before, just like Bayley and Naomi, it’s dropped the second he lays eyes on her. On the bruise. “What the hell?” 

“Jimmy, pl—”

“Solana….” Another indication more anger is about to be stirred up on her part. An accurate expectation given the next question to leave his mouth. “Did Roman hit you?” The second it leaves his mouth, she’s filled with anger, but there’s a matching level of that emotion on his end as well. He shakes his head, voice dead serious, more than she’s ever heard from him since their initial meeting months prior. “The truth, Solana. If that son of a bitch, hit you, I wanna know. I’ll handle it.”

They mean well. She knows they mean well, but it’s a combination of all the things. Of what happened with Roman. Roman leaving. A possible pregnancy. A pregnancy she’s hiding because she can’t tell her husband just yet.

It’s just too much.

“Would you all just shut up?” She snaps, voice raised, several sets of eyes on her with varying levels of bewilderment. “I said he didn’t do it, and the fact that you all even think he could ever be capable of that is disgusting.”

Because it is. Because they should know him better than that. He’s a lot of things, but that has never been one of them.

And the fact that they’re accusing him of such is infuriating to her. 

Shaking her head, she turns on her heel to leave. “I’m out of here.”

“Solana, wait—”

But, she does nothing of the sort, just keeps walking away, never once looking back.

————

Regrets are a tricky thing. Varying in size and impact. Never a major issue for Roman.

Not until two days prior.

Two days prior where demons from his past submerged, resulting and causing him to do the unthinkable.

On a basic level, he knows it was an accident. Knows that he would never intentionally do anything to ever hurt his wife. Especially in that way. But, the key word is intentionally, because regardless of what he intended, she was hurt.

She was hurt because of him. By his hands. And, that’s something Roman can’t seem to make peace with. Every time he thinks of texting her, of even trying to call her, he’s hit with a flash of her pretty, innocent face marred with that hideous bruise.

A bruise he caused her to have.

And he just as quickly puts his phone away.

He instead opts for something different, something he hasn’t dared to touch since spotting it when emptying his luggage and hanging up some clothes.

Roman walks over to the nightstand where the purple journal with tattered edges and  random stickers plastered has sat untouched. Until now.

Solana’s journal.

It’s aged, most likely one from when she was still a child, and he hasn’t the slightest clue when she placed it in his bag, but the minute he opens it and sees a pink post it with her handwriting on it, his stomach twists in a way it’s only done in the past few months after years of dormancy.

It’s a simple, short but powerful message.

You could never be them.

-Solana

Roman closes his eyes. Right away, he knows he’s in for a heavy, brutal insight into the hell she experienced for so many years. A part of him doesn’t want to. Doesn’t feel fully capable or even worthy of reading her vulnerable words. Her journals are a private thing he would never want to invade. However, she placed it in his bag for a reason. She wants him to read it, some of it, at least. 

The least he can give her……is that.

Bracing himself as best he can for what he’s about to read, Roman turns to the first entry.

Dear Mami,

I try really hard not to make dad upset, but it’s hard. He’s always angry and yelling at me. 

I know you always told me to stay out of his way, but it’s hard, mama. He makes me do all the cleaning and cooking like he made you. Sometimes, he doesn’t let me eat. 

I wish you were here.

Love,

Sol

————

Dear Mami,

Yesterday was really scary. Dad yelled at me for almost an hour and was throwing things. He hit me, too. I tried not to cry.

I’m trying to be strong like you, but it’s hard.

I’m not like you, mami. I’m not strong, and I don’t know how to be.

I miss you,

Sol

————

Dear Mami,

I keep looking for Hummingbirds. I know you said they don’t fly here, but I keep hoping I’ll see just one. I just want to see you again, mama. I miss you so much.

I wish they never took you from me.

I don’t have anybody anymore. 

I’m all alone.

Love,

Sol

————

Dear Mami,

I don’t know what I did, but I made dad really mad. He just kept hitting me and hitting me. Then Wes started hitting me too. It was hard for me to get the blood to stop, but I did exactly what you taught me, and it worked.

My body hurts really bad, but I’m scared to leave my room cause I might see dad.

I think I’m gonna sleep in the closet tonight.

Love,

Sol

————

Mami,

I’m sorry I haven’t written you. 

Something….something really bad happened to me, mama. 

The detective lady said it wasn’t my fault, but it was. I was too weak. I’m not strong like you.

I’m sorry I let you down.

I hope you still love me.

Solana

————

It’s that last entry that Roman has to stop at. He can handle a lot. Has handled a lot, but this…..this he can’t.

He always knew Solana went through hell in that house, both from speculation as well as confirmation from her. But, to read her words in real time, to see with his own eyes the extent of that hell.

A child. She was a fucking child.

No one deserves what she went through.

No one. 

And while he understands her intentions, maybe hope, she had with him reading her entries being enough to trigger more self-forgiveness. Thought that him gaining better insight into her abuse would lessen his feelings of guilt towards his actions…..that’s not entirely the outcome.

Maybe to some extent.

But, it’s hard to feel any bit better knowing he’s unintentionally contributed to her massive pile of traumatic experiences. 

Ashamed. Roman feels ashamed. A new, heavy ass experience that has him partially weighed down, even more so now knowing exactly some of the thoughts and sentiments Solana experienced while enduring years worth of torture. 

Eyes shut, he’s tempted to grab his phone and just text her, check in on her. Because while he hates what he did, he also hates how they left off.

How he left her. 

Because she didn’t want him to leave. Because she practically begged him to stay, but he left regardless, because he didn’t feel right being and staying around her after what happened. 

Didn’t feel like she was safe around him.

The way he still feels now. 

Redirecting himself, Roman instead swaps the journal for his phone, choosing to respond to messages from Dwayne and Matteo. Focusing on the business purpose of his trip. He can at least acknowledge that he’s done a decent job completely immersing himself in the role of Capo. A necessity given the purpose of this whole trip.

Well, the original purpose. 

Interactions with members of the Administration thus far have irked him almost as much as interactions with the Elders. Their judgmental expressions of his long hair—that he absolutely wears down just to piss them off—and tattoos—also hidden—do nothing to hide the racist reasons they truly despise him. 

It’s a nice distraction, knowing how much he gets under their skin, knowing that it kills them that he’s as intelligent and successful and fucking good as he is, hence why they can’t find a legitimate way to dethrone him. 

The memory of him putting a babbo down brings a small smirk to his face. A small slice of amusement tucked in between everything else heavy and egregious. It’s short lived, however. Because it’s not pertinent right now. 

No, Roman has other matters to tend to, much more important ones that he’s gone back and forth with himself on for days, ultimately deciding to bite the bullet.

Even with having this newfound piece of information via Solana’s journals. 

Roman moves over to the table and opens up his laptop, a quick glance at the clock on the wall alerting him that it’s time. 

Logging in and getting set up take less than a minute, only for her to not be on, that annoying ass “Your clinician will start the appointment shortly” welcome message taunting him.

And just like that, Roman is instantly annoyed.

Does punctuality mean fucking nothing?

He’s even more irritated when the screen lights up a couple minutes later revealing his wife’s therapist. “You’re late.”

Gail looks like she wants to roll her eyes but ultimately decides not to. A wise decision. “I usually don’t get into the office until—”

“I don’t care.” He honestly, truly doesn’t. There’s a bit of hesitation as he asks, “how is she doing?”

Roman watches her shift in her seat, followed by movement that indicates she’s moving around some items on her desk. “Good. I’m pleased with her progress and dedication to continuing treatment.”

That’s relieving to hear. Much more than he’s willing to let on. Especially after what he just finished reading. “Did she attend yesterday?” He already knows the answer, having stayed on top of Nia via probably annoying, frequent texts reminding her of all the important things. Times of Solana’s appointments. Location of said appointments. Importance of making sure Nia puts Solana’s medication back exactly where he keeps it.

All of the things.

“She did.” He sees it, the unspoken question in her voice. And, he’s prepared to tell her to just ask the shit, letting him decide if he wants to answer it or not. But, she’s two steps ahead of him. “Mr. Reigns, this call wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with the bruise she tried to hide with makeup, now would it?”

Fuck.

Roman doesn’t care about her question or the almost implication in said question. What he cares about is the fact that his wife is having to cake her face in makeup to hide the result of his lack of self0control. Is having to lie about how she acquired said bruise. 

It’s……crushing. Truly. 

Reminds him of her haunting words written as a child.

Similar words probably being penned in her most recent journal as a result of his actions. 

His arrogance is definitely knocked down a peg, as he asks in a low voice, “what did she tell you?”

Gail sits back in her chair, answering evenly. “Accident while training.”

It’s believable. Roman will give Solana that, but he’s not surprised. She probably spent years having to explain away bruises as a result of her despicable family. 

It’s difficult to not group himself in that same category, however. 

No matter what Solana says. 

“You said…..you said she’s codependent on me.” Roman’s gaze is focused on the cherry wood table in his hotel room and not on the woman watching him through the screen. It’s…..it’s easier that way. “How attached is she to me?”

Gail’s eyes narrow as she jumps straight to the point. “Roman, what exactly are you asking me?”

Nothing he ever anticipated having to ask. 

Or even consider.

It’s difficult for him to hide the heaviness in said answer. “What do you think it would do to her mentally if we weren’t together anymore?”

——���—

Here in the night

I see the sun

Here in the dark

Our two hearts are one

Solana grabs her phone and pauses the music, realizing it’s been a while since she took a break.

Sitting in her home library, surrounded by boxes, boxes filled with her books and journals finally transported from her work library has been the activity to occupy her racing mind for the past two hours.

It’s been a nice distraction. That and work itself the past few days. Getting back into her usual routine has been helpful, and coming back to a barrage of letters, cards, drawings, and other heartwarming gifts from the kids really was the highlight of her return. 

She’s never felt so loved than in the moment where they practically bum rushed her with hugs or when Mrs. Jensen handed over all of their “get well soon” gifts they’d brought in while she was away. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes, a welcomed change given those tears came from pleasant emotions.

Not like the ones she’s been crying ever since Roman left a couple days ago. She still hasn’t spoken to him. Not really. Not outside of occasional almost awkward check-in texts that she replies to with just as much awkwardness, if not just an emoji reaction. 

It’s miserable and stupid. She wants to talk to him. Wants to hear his voice, but she’s also trying to be respectful. Then there’s the lingering anger and frustration toward him for leaving, even if it’s subsided mostly into just sadness.

And loneliness. 

She misses him.

Misses falling asleep next to and waking up to him, something she was deprived of when she was away at treatment. But now, she’s right back in the same space. 

And even this, finally being able to start setting up her library/art room he thoughtfully created for her, is a bittersweet thing. She always imagined this being something they would do. Her handing journals and books to Roman for him to place up on the shelves that she cannot reach. His arms around her, frequently distracting her with dirty whispers of promised pleasure later that evening. Her sitting on his lap as she feeds him whatever she decided to make for lunch as they took a break.

It was just supposed to be different from this. 

Solana’s hand falls to her stomach. 

It was all supposed to be different from this. 

Tears pooling once again, she shakes her head, refusing to spiral yet again. She instead grabs her phone and once again ignores the unread texts from a variety of people. Naomi. Bayley. Even Melina and them.

Their messages are warranted given the abrupt almost cold text she sent to their group telling them the girls trip was off and to be postponed for a later date and time.

A part of her feels bad, but she’s mostly relieved. 

She just….she just needs space.

Doesn’t feel like talking.

If it’s not Roman, she’s not interested.

Her husband is the only person she wants to interact with, but she can't. Thus, her self-imposed isolation. 

He’s not an option currently, so until then, she just wants to be alone.

Solana is interrupted by her phone dinging, and the way she jumps with the hope that it’s maybe Roman is squashed the minute she realizes it’s not his notification sound and simply a calendar reminder. 

Appt w/ Dr. Michaels @ 2pm

Solana gasps and curses to herself.

She’d completely forgotten about scheduling that, most likely because she hates the fact that she’s even doing it.

She quickly hits dismiss on the alarm and stands up, sliding the phone in the back pocket of her jean shorts. The space around her is still a mess, some boxes partially open, others still taped shut. This is a project that’s clearly going to need to be completed in phases.  

Thus, she grabs a couple of unorganized journals scattered on the floor and drops them into a box, just to get them out the way, missing how a faded letter with her name written across in neat handwriting slips out one of the books and lays untouched and unseen on the floor. 

Out of the library and into the rest of the house, Solana has little difficulty finding Nia. Her husband's cousin who he somehow talked into, most likely forced, to stay with her has spent most of her time in her room, the gym, or the living room. 

And the latter of which is where Solana finds her, but not only her. Bautista is present, standing near the opposite end of the sofa where Nia sits.

It’s not surprising, however, given his almost “promotion” to guarding her at home, alternating with Solo for some outside outings as well. His service while she was away as well as his friendly disposition and Solana being comfortable with him securing this new arrangement.

Solana nervously clears her throat. “Nia?”

The other woman sighs. Loudly. “What?”

And just like that, the nerves are starting to set in. Nia isn’t going to like this. “I forgot I scheduled a doctor’s appointment today.”

Nia’s groan is also loud as she pauses the show and turns to Solana with a scowl. “Seriously? Can’t you like reschedule it or something?”

Not really. “No. I—I need to go.”

“Are you dying?”

Solana hesitates for a second. “Umm, no, but—”

“Then you don’t need to go,” she says it in the cheeriest voice, grabbing the remote to turn off the TV. Standing up, Nia briefly looks over at a quiet Bautista then back at Solana. “I’m going to take a nap.”

Solana frowns. Does Nia not have other plans then? Because, Solana could understand if her appointment interfered with pre-existing obligations, but if there are none….what’s the issue?

Once it’s just the two of them, Bautista clears his throat. “If…..if I may?”

Solana looks over at him, managing a small smile. “Of course.” It doesn’t matter how many times she tells this man he doesn’t have to behave so reserved around her, he remains firm with his professionalism and manners. 

Regardless, the respect is deeply appreciated.

He walks over to her, keeping a respectful distance but still close enough for her to hear his calm, leveled voice. “Roman Reigns is our Tribal Chief. He sits at the Head of the Table. We all acknowledge him just like we all answer to him.” His tone takes a firmer, almost convictive nature. “You are Solana Reigns. The wife of the Tribal Chief, meaning you sit directly next to him at that table. You only answer to him. No one else.”

Silence.

There’s a heavy but powerful silence that follows his words. A silence that’s filled with thinking and recognition. Solana has always known, never been ignorant to the power her husband holds. All that comes with his status and position. But, it’s not until this moment, not until Bautista frames it that way, that she fully recognizes just how much of that, if not all of it, carries over to his wife.

She is the wife of the Tribal Chief.

And that means something. 

Nodding from a newfound sense of confidence and credence, Solana offers a heartfelt, “thank you, Bautista.” Lifting her chin, she informs, “we’ll be leaving shortly.”

There’s a small smile playing on his lips. “Yes ma’am.”

Pleased and determined, Solana turns on her heel and doesn’t waver as she makes her way up the stairs and down the hall until she’s standing before Nia’s door. 

She doesn’t even bother with knocking.

Opening the door, Solana finds Nia laying in bed. She jumps up and removes her sleep mask, irritation all over her face. “What the he—”

“I said I have an appointment.” Solana has never felt more assured than she does at this moment, not a bit of her reluctant as she orders, “be ready in half an hour.”

And with that, she turns on her heel and walks out without another word.

It’s not needed.

She said what she said.

————

Despite an excellent, earlier display of assertiveness, to say Solana feels good about her decision, as a whole, would be a lie, because she doesn’t. Going behind Roman’s back is what she feels like she’s doing, and that is an awful feeling. But, she’s in this tricky situation where she doesn’t want to tell him about the pregnancy if there is in fact no pregnancy. And if she is pregnant, she doesn’t want to tell him via a text or phone call because that feels too impersonal. And, she also just doesn’t want to tell him, period, because he’s already beating himself up over what happened and him knowing that she is pregnant could only make it worse.

And yes, she could just take a home test, but at this point, she needs to know with absolute certainty. A home test can’t do that for her.

But, a blood test can.

Thus, where she currently sits: in the lobby of the private clinic where her husband’s doctor operates out of. Because she needs a medical professional, but she doesn’t know who to go to. Doesn’t know how this is supposed to work. She just knows that if she is pregnant, it’s important that it doesn’t get out for a lot of reasons.

Especially since she has to be the one to tell her husband.

Just when the time is right. 

“Why exactly are we here again?” Nia’s bored voice cuts her from her thoughts, Solana looking up from the thread she has opened. The one between her and Roman. “It’s probably just allergies.”

As part of doing her best to hide her pregnancy, Solana wisely made up an excuse of her throat feeling weird and a headache to explain to Nia and Bautista this otherwise random appointment. So far, it seems to be working. “Maybe, but I just want to make sure. You know Roman had the flu not too long ago.”

Nia rolls her eyes and wisely says nothing else, focusing back on the book in her hand. It’s not missed upon Solana how her gaze briefly darts to Bautista.

She’s not sure what exactly is going on there, but Solana could get behind it. In a strange sort of way, they just make sense to her. 

He could maybe help Nia level out the way Solana tends to help Roman with his temper.

“Mrs. Reigns?” 

Solana looks up to see the nurse standing by the door. She turns to Nia and Bautista. “I’ll be back.”

“You sure you don’t need us to wait in the hall or something?” His question is valid as is the concern on his handsome face, but Solana can’t risk them somehow overhearing the truth behind this appointment. 

“No, I’ll be fine.” She manages a small smile that probably doesn’t reach her eyes, turning on her heel to follow the nurse to the back. 

Solana is most definitely experiencing heightened anxiety that only intensifies when she spots Dr. Michaels coming from the other end of the hall. 

He’s not alone, however. A tall man, about the same height as the doctor. Smooth chocolate skin with a decent build for a man who looks to be in his fifties is beside him, focused on whatever Dr. Michaels is saying to him. 

“......firefighter, doctor, what’s next? Police officer.” She overhears her husband’s doctor who wears a teasing smile. “You’re just crossing them all off the list, ain’t you?” A friendly set of blue eyes settle on her when the gap between both is closed. “Well, what a sur—”

“Solana……”

Solana finds herself frowning, her attention directed to the man who she’s never seen before this very moment but who somehow knows her name and is staring directly at her. It’s not a predatory stare or even something inappropriate. It’s almost…..sad.

He’s looking at her like he’s just seen a ghost.

Dr. Michaels is also looking at the man next to him but with a different kind of expression. One that screams, you can’t just address the Tribal Chief’s wife so informally like that. “Mrs. Reigns, I apologize for the wait.” 

Solana shakes her head, still unsure why this stranger keeps staring at her. “It’s okay.” She hugs herself, looking past him to see if she can spot whatever door is open that could be the room they’ll be in. “Are you ready or…..”

“Of course.” He turns to the man beside him, offering a handshake. “Good to have you on the team, Dr. Adams.” 

Dr. Adams.

Yeah, not familiar at all. 

This Dr. Adams finally removes his gaze from her to accept Dr. Michaels handshake, only nodding as he gives her one last, almost regretful look and carefully moves past her.

Solana frowns in the wake of his absence. What was that?

Dr. Michaels apologizes again. “Sorry about that. Come with me.” Wordlessly, she follows him, moving to sit on the patient bed, anxiety growing once again as he closes the door. “Now, I hear you’re having some—”

“You can’t tell Roman I was here.”

It’s certainly not what she planned to say. Not yet, anyway. But, it’s exactly what comes out, Solana closing her eyes and going to correct herself. “I mean…..I’m gonna tell him myself. I just….I just need time.”

Time and a plan. Along with many other things she doesn’t need to tell the man before her.

His jovial disposition has shifted into something almost nervous and uncomfortable. “Solana, what’s going on here?”

She takes a breath, head tilted back, giving herself one final boost of encouragement before answering. “I need…..I need a pregnancy test.”

The release of what she’s been holding in for the past couple weeks is both terrifying and relieving. She hates that the first person she’s uttering the words to, even if just a thought of pregnancy, isn’t her husband. But, she also knows that she’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. Even more, she needs to know for certain, and Dr. Michaels is the only one who can provide her with that answer.

He looks only slightly less confused. “I see…..” Shifting the tablet under his arm to in front of him, he speculates, “and Roman doesn’t know that you might be…..”

“No,” she answers, voice small. “I’m—I’m going to tell him, but I want to know for sure first.” Again, only a part of a much bigger, complicated story. 

“Well, I can absolutely do a blood test, but I’m general medicine, Solana. I’m not an—”

“OB-GYN. I know. I just…..I didn’t know who else to go to. You’re Roman’s doctor, so he obviously trusts you.” Enough to manage his health, at least. “And I don’t know if there’s a specific doctor the Bloodline uses—”

“There is,” he supplies with a small smile. “I’ll make sure to give you her info before you leave. Even if….” He trails off, clearly not wanting to state what Solana would be shocked to find out is a false alarm.

She feels pregnant. 

He clears his throat. “I don’t mean to pry, but have you told anyone e—”

“No.” It’s an easy, truthful answer. “I haven’t said a word to anyone, and I won’t. Not until I find out if I am and definitely not until I tell Roman.”

He nods, clearly agreeing with this plan. “I will say, the big guy might order that this pregnancy stays just between you and your care team. And I guess me now,” he ends with a chuckle. “You’re the Tribal Chief’s wife who might be carrying his first official heir. That target over your head just got a hell of a lot bigger.” It’s weird, but his words don’t come across as fearmongering or even a scare tactic. Just a genuine warning of what’s to come. “But, that’ll be discussed between—”

“How is he?” It’s a breathless almost thing that falls out of her mouth. An unintended question but one she finds herself asking, nonetheless. “Roman, I mean, like….his health.”

Because on top of worrying about his mental state, being in front of his doctor has her curious about the physical side of things. 

“You’re a smart young lady, Solana.” Dr. Michaels starts, voice tentative almost. “You know how HIPAA works…..”

She closes her eyes. “I’m not asking you as a patient’s wife. I’m–” She takes a deep breath, voice firm and solid. “I’m asking you as the Tribal Chief’s wife.”

Bautista’s words still playing in the back of her head, Solana has never really considered what role she plays as Roman’s wife. Never thought to pull that card, because it’s almost out of character. She’s always been more inclined to shy away from status than to use it to her benefit. But, this is different. This is about Roman, and there isn’t much she wouldn't do to help him or even to know if and what he needs help with. 

And he’s been mum regarding his blood pressure as of late, so her curiosity is only naturally piqued. 

There’s obvious hesitation, but he relents, partially to her surprise. “He’s doing alright. Numbers look decent. Seems that he’s finally recognizing how serious this could be if he doesn’t do what he needs to do to keep from progressing to another stage again.”

“Wait. What?” Solana frowns. “Stage? What….what are you talking about?” A brief look of panic flashes in his blue eyes, alerting Solana that something is very much not right. “What stage?”

“Fuck…..” He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He didn’t tell you….”

“Tell me what?” Solana presses, her anxiety almost through the roof  “I’m not—I’m not gonna ask again.”

Dr. Michaels sighs with defeat. “Look, the last time Roman was here, his numbers were bad. Like, he jumped from prehypertension to stage one actual hypertension bad. I had to up his dosage and increase his follow up appointments as well as bloodwork check-ins.” Solana’s heart swells and her stomach jumps, and Dr. Michaels clearly sees how devastated this news has her, thus him adding, “but, like I said, he’s been on top of it and is looking good…..”

It’s hard for her to focus on that ending bit when all she can think about is one thing.

Lie.

Roman lied to her. 

She asked him. She fucking asked him how his appointment went, how his blood pressure was doing, if he was okay. And, he lied. He lied to her face. He told her he was fine, and he wasn’t.

He still isn’t. 

And this time, instead of lying, he’s just left.

Ran away. 

Like he always does. 

“Solana…..”

It’s the almost gentle way her name is said that alerts her to the fact that she’s crying, tears spilling down her face as she clutches her stomach. 

“Can I just have the test, please?” Because that’s all she wants and needs at this point. She just needs to know for certain, and she needs to get the hell out of here. 

She just needs to get away from it all.

————

Solana has never considered herself an irrational person. Most definitely not impulsive. Even with both of her suicide attempts, they may have been impulsive in the moment, but they didn’t indicate a truly impulsive personality or even disposition. 

But, that hasn’t been the case for the past three days.

No, it hasn’t been the case, because Solana’s current situation is the direct result of impulsivity.

She sits in her bedroom, Dulce sleeping peacefully in her bed on the floor beside her. Bautista and Nia are somewhere in the house that is not her main home, but the house purchased by her husband for her.

She’s in Isla Mujeres.

And has been for three days now.

Coming home from the shocking appointment, Solana found herself packing a small bag for herself, one for Dulce, and telling both Nia and Bautista to get ready because they were flying out that night. 

Her command left no room for argument, and that’s exactly what occurred, hence how Solana ended up where she is.

It’s been a true form of escape.

Feeling overwhelmed with all of it, Solana knew she needed to just not be around any of it.

And this place has served as a site of refuge, providing her with some level of tranquility that’s been escaping her back home.

Again, her random text to the group chat regarding her “going away” for a couple of days was met with another round of bombarding messages and calls. And Solana isn’t stupid, she knows and can understand her friends being concerned about her.

But, it’s not like she’s entirely alone. She has two people who are making sure she’s safe despite her perhaps strange behavior, and that’s all that matters.

Because she just needs space.

And in an unexpected turn of events, Roman has been added to that list.

He lied. He lied to her. Lied to her about something so important, something regarding his health, of all things. Was dishonest with her.

Again.

It’s becoming a bit of a theme, and she’s not naive. She can somewhat understand why he didn’t tell her. At first. Because she was in the midst of treatment.

But, she’s home now. She’s been home. Why would he not come clean?

Tears burn her eyes. It’s hard to balance understanding with feeling betrayed, because this isn’t the first time her husband hasn’t been honest with her.

And if she’s being honest with herself, this “reason” for the dishonesty being because he’s trying to protect her is…..it’s getting old.

She’s just so frustrated with him. 

So much of this could be avoided if he would just talk to her, and she’s running out of different ways to help him understand as such. 

Wiping at her eyes, Solana grabs a journal off the nightstand. Something she’s discussed with Gail in therapy as of late is the importance of never forgetting where she came from, how far she’s come. Remembering that she’s moving in the right direction.

It’s a strange thing, too. 

On one hand, reading journals from when she was a child and teenager could and maybe should be triggering. And it is. To a certain extent.

But, Solana is proud to say that she can revisit these painful memories and not be drawn back into those dark emotions but rather recognize that was how she used to feel. Where she used to be. 

Who she used to be.

But, not anymore.

Never again.

Solana leans back against the headboard and opens the journal, unsure what she’s about to read but ready regardless.

Dear Mami,

I miss you so much. I’m so so sorry for everything. I’m so sad now that you’re gone. I wish you were here. Daddy is so mean to me. Wes now too. He hates me because it’s my fault you’re dead. 

I’m so sorry. 

Love,

Sol

————

Dear Mami, 

Everything is so much badder now. Daddy is angry at me all the time. Wes too. They call me names. They hurt me, mommy. 

I wish I could be with you.

Yours,

Sol

————

Dear Mami, 

I’m sorry I haven’t written you lately. Daddy got mad at me for spilling some juice, and he broke my arm, so I couldn’t write.

I just got the cast off this morning. 

It still hurts a lot, but at least I can write you.

I got all A’s this quarter, mami! I’m trying to make you proud.

Hope you’ve forgiven me.

Solana

————

Dear Mami,

I feel so sad. Nothing makes me happy anymore. I try to think of you. Remember the times we would draw and sing and cook together. But, it’s not working anymore.

Mommy, I have times where I feel like I can’t breathe cause I feel so sad.

And sometimes when I just don’t want to breathe anymore at all.

Solana

————

Dear Mami,

I don’t want to do this anymore.

Solana

————

Mom,

It was a rough day. I had those thoughts again. I was able to fight them, but it’s so hard. 

I try to think about how you always told me to never stop dreaming. Never stop believing that life is a gift. I try, but it’s hard. 

I try to dream that not all men are like dad and Wes. That not every man in my life will hurt me. That maybe……just maybe I can fall in love someday. Find and marry someone who’s actually nice to me, who treats me with kindness, who loves me.

Kind of like my prince charming.

Do you think I could ever have a happily ever after?

Love,

Sol

Reading the entries definitely stirs up emotions, but it’s the last letter, however, that has her tears subsiding and the weight on her chest decreasing. A complete shift away from the heavy, depressing entries from such dark times in her life. 

A man unlike her dad and brother. 

Roman.

A man who would never hurt her like her dad and brother. 

Roman

A man she could love and marry. Someone who treats her with kindness and loves her. 

Roman 

Solana snaps the journal shut and cries a little harder, feels a little deeper, the realization hitting her like a stack of bricks over the head.

Roman isn’t perfect. He may seem like it sometimes, but he isn’t. He’s just a man. A human being like any other human being. He has his faults, the same way she has hers. He has his demons, just like she has hers.

But one thing that’s always remained consistent is him. He’s been her pillar since the beginning of their marriage, even when things were rocky and they were trying to learn each other. He’s been there for her.

More than any other man in her life, and this rough patch for him, for them, should not be anything that has her questioning him or their relationship.

Roman loves her. Plain and simple. 

The same way she loves him. 

And it’s that love that’s going to get them through this.

Wiping at her eyes, nodding to herself, Solana takes a deep breath. Swapping the notebook in her lap for the phone on the nightstand, she navigates to the unheard voicemail from Dr. Michaels.

The one that’s sat there for three days now, Solana not feeling well enough to receive that answer.

But, not anymore.

It’s time.

Eyes closing for a second, her hand drops to her stomach as she finally hits the play button.

Almost instantly, a new, male voice fills the room.

“Hey Solana, it’s Dr. Michaels.” Her heartbeat is a mile a fucking minute, Solana having to take a deep breath to help herself calm down. “Got your test results back and looks like you and the Big Guy better start babyproofing that big ole’ house of yours.” And just like that, Solana smacks the pause button on the voicemail before doubling over, a sob leaving her mouth.

She knew it. Felt it. But, there’s something about hearing the confirmation. Knowing without a doubt that she’s pregnant that’s almost overwhelming. 

In the best possible way.

Sniffling, she smiles down and rubs her hand across her stomach.

She’s pregnant.

“Now, I don’t want to freak you out, but your hCG levels came back pretty high, which isn’t anything bad. At all. But, it can indicate a multiples pregnancy. Meaning you could be carrying twins, and if that’s the case……”

It’s difficult for Solana to continue to focus on the rest of his message, something about him reminding her that Dr. Sharmell is the go-to OB-GYN for Bloodline pregnancies, as well as a phone number she’d guess for this doctor. However, as appreciated as that is, it’s mostly in one ear and out the other, because all she can hone in on is one word.

Twins

Twins like the ones she’s had several, frequent, recurring dreams about over the past few months. Dropping her phone altogether, Solana places both hands on her stomach, somehow, someway already knowing that he’s right.

She is carrying twins.

Smiling, laughing faces that are the perfect combination of herself and Roman rushing to the front of her mind, deepening her smile, increasing her joy.

Her babies.

Overcome with happiness, Solana finds herself grabbing her current journal that was also sitting on the nightstand, trembling hands skipping to the end of the book that she’s damn near completed. Using the pen in the middle, Solana shares the news, officially, with the only person other than her husband who she would give anything to have to celebrate with right now.

Dear Mami,

I’m pregnant. 

With twins. 

I’m getting my happily ever after, after all.

Love,

Sol

She must reread it almost a dozen times, each reading widening her smile. It’s such a strange thing, how quickly emotions can oscillate. She’d traveled the feelings spectrum from one end to the other over the past week, but this stop…..this stop is one she’d be okay with staying at for a while. 

Solana grabs her phone again, fingers navigating to Roman’s contact. She’s not going to tell him. Not like this, but this avoidance game they’ve been playing needs to stop. A glance at the time as well as her pulling up the world clock reveals it’s almost midnight in Italy, but that doesn’t stop her from dialing the number regardless.

It’s time to talk to her husband.

Except, it’s not.

Because the phone goes straight to voicemail. 

Solana frowns. She can’t recall a time where Roman’s phone has ever been off. On Do Not Disturb, sure, but off?

Never.

Not since she’s been with him, at least.

The beeping on the other end alerts her to the fact that she can either leave a message or hang up. 

She decides on the former of the two options.

“Hey….” Clearing her throat, she does her best to keep her voice steady, a tricky task considering the life-changing news she’s sitting on. “I—I wanted to talk to you. I—I miss your voice. I miss you.” Swallowing, she smiles, wishing she could bask in this moment with him. “Call me back when you get a chance….I love you.”

Hanging up the phone, Solana scoffs, still slightly in a state of disbelief. Looking down at a still sleeping Dulce, a soft giggle leaves her mouth at thinking about how her fur baby is going to react to there being a real baby in the house.

Two.

Climbing off the bed, phone in one hand, Solana moves over to the dresser and grabs a change of clothes before heading to the attached master bathroom.

She’s done a lot of sulking while in her supposed happy place, engaged in a lot of avoidance behavior. 

No more.

She has a reason to smile, to be happy, to be excited. And she wants to lean into that.

Solana starts to make a mental list of things she wants to do before leaving in a couple days. The item at the top is to go see Paloma. She’s barely spoken to the older woman with kind eyes and a warm personality since first meeting her months prior.

It’s time to see her again. 

But, as much as she would like to focus on an agenda for the remainder of her trip, it’s difficult for her mind to not keep gravitating back toward the news.

To the thought of life growing inside her. 

Two lives formed from a beautiful though flawed love. Two individuals who have lost so much yet stand to gain so much more through the lives they’ve created together.

Solana knows Roman will be an amazing father. He’s been so good to her, so patient, so loving. Seeing that extended to their children just fills her with all of the butterflies.

They’ll definitely have to make some changes. She might have to cut back work hours. He could maybe work from home more, if that’s even a thing. No nanny. Roman probably wouldn’t trust anyone anyway.

And the guest room closest to them could easily be the shared nursery for both children. It only makes sense for the babies to be close to them, getting different, separate rooms as they get older.

Standing in the shower, continuing to go over any and all the details, there’s a small bit of sadness at not being able to share the news with her friends. She knows they’re all going to be so happy for her, and Solana knows they’ll plan the biggest, most elaborate baby shower that she’ll probably have to bribe Roman into attending.

All of it, even the maybe stressful things, keeps her smile on her face. 

It’s just been some time since she’s felt so happy. A well deserved thing following an almost week of anything but.

But, it’s as Solana steps out the shower, wraps the towel around her and checks her phone, her smile dims at her lock screen being littered with notifications.

1 missed call from Jey 

3 missed calls from Jimmy

4 unread texts from Jimmy

2 unread texts from Jey

And just like that, her stomach drops.

Something is wrong.

Given Jimmy is the one with the most outreach attempts, she bypasses reading any messages and just skips right to calling him.

Pacing across the bathroom, each ring on the other end feels like an eternity. Finally, he picks up. “Solana.”

“What’s wrong?” It’s blurted out, her desperation and fear loud and present. “What happened?”

A heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “Solana…..”

“What happened, Jimmy!” She doesn’t mean to yell, but she does mean to stress that she needs this man to tell her just what the hell is going on.

Another pause. “Fetu took a turn for the worse.” Her heart stops. “She’s…..she’s probably not going to make it through the night.”

Of all the things to come out his mouth, Solana could have never guessed that would be it. She’s instantly in a brief state of shock. This can’t be……no, it can’t.

“What?” Is all she’s able to muster, leaning back against the counter, heart rate a mile a minute.

“I don’t….I don’t know all the details. Ava was too upset to talk, but—”

“Roman….” 

Jimmy blows out a deep breath. “He’s already on a plane here. He…..he was actually already on his way.” Solana’s frown deepens. “He wanted to surprise you.” And the knife just keeps twisting. “He knows and should land in a couple hours, but I don’t know if—”

“Don’t,” she cuts him off. Solana can’t even fathom the notion of what he’s about to say. It can’t…..no. “Don’t say it.”

“Solana….” She’s never heard Jimmy sound so despondent. “From the way Ava was talking, she doesn’t have a lot of t—”

“He’s gonna make it.” There is no other alternative. None that Solana can consider. At least, not in this state. Because she’s still trying to sit on the fact that Roman’s laughing, smiling, hoot of an aunt is now suddenly at death’s door. It doesn’t make any sense. They were supposed to go see her. Solana had already texted and talked with Ava about surprising Fetu with a visit when Roman returned. 

And now…..

“I’m on my way.”

She can practically picture Jimmy’s surprise. “Solana, I don’t—”

“I need you to meet me at the airport and take me there,” she continues. Because Solana has only been there once, she doesn’t know how to get to Fetu’s place. But, Jimmy does, and something tells her Roman will land back home before she does, and she doesn’t want him wasting a second waiting around for her so they can go together.

“Solana, you’ve never…..you’ve never been around Roman when he’s lost someone. I don’t—I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you—”

“I am not letting him deal with this alone,” she vows, anger replacing the fear. “Prepare the jet for me.”

“Solana—”

“I said I’m going!” She snaps. Solana is certain her shout bypasses the perimeter of the closed bathroom door, travels into her bedroom and permeates throughout the house. “If you don’t want to help me, that’s fine. I’ll find a way. I will fucking swim back home and walk my way there if that’s what it takes, because I am not letting him deal with this alone.” There’s absolute silence on the other end. “Now are you going to help me or not?”

Jimmy is quiet for a good minute before answering. “I’ll be there when you touch down.”

There’s a small slice of relief that fills her at his agreement, but it’s nothing to sit in given the weight of the situation. “I’ll see you then.” 

Hanging up the phone, Solana hurriedly applies her deodorant and slips on her bra and panties. Walking out the bathroom, she moves over to the dresser, pulling out some sweats and a shirt. Once her sneakers are on, she’s grabbing Dulce, apologizing for waking her up as she moves out the room and down the stairs.

She finds Bautista and Nia in the kitchen, not hesitating as she informs, “pack your stuff. We’re leaving.”

Their surprised, borderline confused expressions make all the sense, but it’s Nia who speaks up. “What do you mean we’re leaving?”

Solana ignores her, carrying Dulce to the backdoor and letting her out, keeping her eyes on her puppy as she finds the patch of grass to relieve herself. 

Nia, of course, refuses to let it go, pushing her at a time where Solana is already trying not to sink into panic. “Look, you have been an impulsive mess all week. Randomly making us fly out here and now you’re making us randomly fly back. What the he—”

“Would you shut up!” It’s similar to the way she snapped at Jimmy, but angrier. More personal. “I don’t answer to you, Nia. I said we’re leaving, so we’re fucking leaving!”

And at that moment, Dulce hurries herself back inside, Solana slamming and shutting the door as she storms past a bewildered Nia to go back upstairs and finish packing.

Shaking hands, quiet sniffles, and silent tears accompany her preparation. She tried to call Roman again, only for the phone to once again go to voicemail, further worrying her.

He’s been pushing her away all week, but this…..this feels different. 

He’s icing her out, and it hurts, but not for her. She hurts for him, because he was already in a not good place before leaving. And now this?

“Please don’t take her from him…..” Solana finds herself pleading, praying for the first time in a long time. “He can’t…..he can’t lose her.”

Because he can’t. 

Because Solana can’t even imagine what losing Fetu would do to Roman. She isn’t sure how he’d handle it. 

If he could handle it. 

Less than twenty minutes later, Solana and Co. are out of the house and on their way to the airport. Dulce, forever perceptive, remains in her lap, every so often licking her arm and whining, cuddling close to Solana.

To her stomach. 

It’s appreciated. 

Necessary.

Because Solana is a nervous, emotional wreck sitting on the jet, Bautista and Nia wisely keeping their distance, leaving her alone in the bedroom with Dulce close by her side.

Solana tries to call both Roman and Ava one last time before takeoff. Neither answers.

It’s not unexpected, but it does make that despair lingering in the pit of her stomach grow.

Makes Solana think back on the letter she has tucked and hidden away at home. Makes her reflect on that almost ominous interaction with his aunt. 

Fetu shakes her head, Solana looking down when she places a white, sealed envelope in her hand. “I need you to give this to him when the time is right.”

Those words now haunt her, cause her to wonder just what is contained within that letter. If….if it was intended for a time like this.

A time where she’s no longer around.

Solana shakes her head, a sob breaking through as she tries to gather herself. She’s an emotional mess, yes, pregnancy hormones probably not helping, but regardless, she can’t be.

She needs to be strong. 

For Roman.

It’s what she keeps telling herself, reminding herself of as she’s forced to utilize some of her coping skills to settle her anxiety. Because it’s not just her she has to think about anymore.

It’s her babies, too.

Solana is nearly running out the jet the minute it lands and they’re clear to exit. She leaves Dulce with Nia, instructing her to take her back home.

Nia doesn’t argue with this.

But, the minute she steps foot out of the jet, her feet on ground, her eyes locked with Jimmy who waits near a black SUV…..she knows.

She just knows.

Solana’s hand goes to her stomach. “No……” Jimmy’s eyes shut as he runs his hand over his face, unshed tears glistening once he reopens his eyes and looks over at her. “Please, no…..”

“Solana….” 

Her voice breaks. “Don’t say it.”

But, he does. He absolutely says it. “She’s gone, Solana.”

She knew it. Knew it the moment her eyes locked with his that are filled with such tremendous grief, holding a truth she’d give anything to be anything but. But, on top of the grief that now fills her body the same way it fills Jimmy, there’s an entirely different layer that nearly grounds her when that realization settles. 

“Roman.” She’s almost scared to ask, but she has to. She just has to. “Did he….”

And it’s the way Jimmy’s sadness deepens as he shakes his head no that Solana’s already wavering resolve crumbles, that she breaks down in front of her husband’s cousin. Jimmy moves over to her, letting her cry into him at the second horrifying realization bulldozes into her with the weight of solid concrete.

Roman didn’t make it in time.

He didn’t get to see Fetu before she passed.

He didn’t get to say goodbye.

[thefirstknife]

Some lore tabs that killed me dead and I'll never recover from them. Seasonal gauntlets are about Zavala realising and coming to terms with the fact that he is mortal and has mortal pains. Also, finally, the full confirmation that Guardians resume aging when they lose their Light:

He moved his chair back and considered his knee. What had he done to hurt it? He had not exercised yet, he had not gone on his usual patrol… he had done nothing. Why would a knee hurt from doing nothing? The riddle dissolved. He was starting to age.

But also:

He allows a hand to rest on his aching knee. To venerate it. He feels it solid under his palm. It is his, it is real, it is both portentous and precious. He is aging. He will age. An absurd and joyous thought warms in his chest: how fortunate, to have lived long enough to grow old. How invaluable, to make the space between himself and the horizon matter. How much time is left? And is it best spent with his knees under a desk?

Genuinely crying over this. How fortunate to live long enough to grow old. Man. Also at the end he asks for a break for one week and Ikora offers him two weeks.

The next one just... I have no words. It has to be read in full. It's about Saint going through it, having memories of his past and also dealing with the guilt with what's happening to Mithrax. Truly every sentence in this one is a gutpunch all the way to the end. Excerpts:

The hum of activity was overpowering yet reassuring to Saint-14 as he stopped to watch an older Eliksni expertly weave fabric on a well-worn loom. The woven symbols were unique and unfamiliar to the Exo, but he watched in awe as an iridescent glow emerged within the vibrant cerulean cloth. Fit for a Kell, Saint mused to himself— Breath caught in his throat; hands shook— Flashes of memory echoed in his mind. All he could feel in this moment… was shame.

Saint remembering his crimes against the Eliksni and feeling shame.

He hurried past the weaver and through the crowd, landing squarely in front of a tea stand, a sample placed in his hand before he could open his mouth to refuse. He looked down. The opaque liquid steamed in his cup, pungent and medicinal. Like distilled Darkness, Saint realized— Breath caught in his throat; hands shook— Flashes of memory filled his sight. All he could feel in this moment… was sadness.

Tea reminded him of all the stuff with Osiris and he is not processing it well. I say excerpts but I have to put the rest entirely because like. Okay.

Saint placed his favorite keepsake, a small stuffed bear, on the Kell's throne. Gently, he adjusted the lavender ribbon at its neck; the crisp satin sat in stark contrast to the bear's hazy black eyes, to its slightly worn ear and well-loved fur. A gift, once a comfort to a child of the City. A gift, once a comfort to Saint in the face of loss, in the face of— Breath caught in his throat; hands shook— Flashes of memory swelled in his heart. Osiris. His strong laugh. His deep, soulful eyes. The warmth of his smile. Of his touch. Memories of comfort, but all he could feel in this moment… was guilt. Intense and overwhelming, like daggers cutting through him, sharpness bleeding through sweetness. Saint breathed deeply and stared at the medical equipment around the empty throne before him. "The cost of my joy," Saint whispered, and he wept.

He has a teddy bear. He once gave it to a child, but someone returned it to him when he was grieving about Osiris, to comfort him, and he'd kept it. And he put it on Mithrax's throne because he feels guilt that Mithrax is suffering because he helped him and Osiris.

I'm ending it all.

[merakiui]

I havent heard a lot about Android Jade, do you have any thoughts on that cutie??✨

Thinking,,,,, android Jade who is so fascinated with you when you're pregnant. He didn't quite understand the excitement or emotions surrounding the announcement when you and Azul realized you were expecting. Is it really so important? He can kind of understand it when Azul fusses over you and is always sending Jade or Floyd (or both twins) out to do the errands you used to run. Azul knows you're plenty capable, but he worries intensely and it's in his blood to plan for every outcome as a businessman. He just wants to make sure you carry to term and deliver a healthy baby. Besides, the androids can take care of the grunt work. Don't push yourself.

Jade didn't think it was such a big deal, but then you start showing and oh. It occurs to him you're carrying another human being in that belly of yours. Suddenly, the usually stoic android is reduced to the equivalent of a starry-eyed child on Christmas morning. He's so curious, even more so when your eating habits change dramatically. You crave all sorts of unique combinations and Jade's more than happy to prepare each one for you.

And then there are the emotions, so many of them, all happening in extremes. Some days you are effortlessly happy and bubbly, full of laughter. Other days you are miserable and gloomy, sobbing over how your favorite shirt no longer fits or how you're certain Azul thinks you're ugly or how you feel and look like a bloated whale! >_< Jade is amazed to witness each one of your moods, all of them just as genuine and perplexing to him. He approaches it tactfully, albeit terribly logical: "Of course your shirt no longer fits. You've grown to accommodate the baby, Master. That is natural." Or: "If Master Azul thought so, he would certainly say something. I may be unable to provide an adequate response, but I assure you he would never think such things. You should ask him." Or: "You are not a whale. You are a human." ^^;;; he may not be the best when it comes to empathy, but hearing his objective logic sometimes makes you feel better. It even manages to get you laughing.

Azul spends more time with you than he does at work. He refuses to leave you alone. Jade finds his nature...clingy. Incessantly clingy. When there is business that Azul absolutely must attend to, Jade sends him on his way and promises him that you are in good hands. Jade and Floyd will look after you. In fact, Jade almost wants Azul to stay at the office most days. Azul can be so greedy with your time. :/

Jade has always thought you were pretty, but now that he's looking at you, backdropped by flowers and radiating that fabled pregnancy glow in a soft maternity romper, he realizes you're absolutely beautiful. He can't stop staring. He stares when you're eating. When you're snotty and crying. When you're laughing. When you're frowning over old clothes. When you're rubbing lotions and oils onto your belly and whispering the sweetest things to the baby, singing the loveliest of lullabies. He stares when you're bathing. When you and Azul are making love. When you're eagerly putting the nursery together, painting the walls alongside Azul. And Jade realizes he wants to be there with you. Not in the shadows. Not as your servant but more. Maybe the concept is too human for him to dissect, but he thinks he wants what Azul has. He thinks he wants to be Azul.

He's not supposed to think. He's supposed to compute, assess everything through a logical lens and then act on the command.

Jade doesn't understand at first—the substance leaking from your breasts. He's silently amazed as he watches you grouse over it, complaining that you're sick of this always happening, that you're so tired and sore, that you wish Azul was here. Idia called him into work because it was important (i.e. investors were there for a meeting, and Idia doesn't like handling those aspects of work. Azul does it best). You're muttering under your breath as you shuck your shirt off and press it against your leaking tits: "I swear I'll strangle Idia the next time I see him! I'll seriously kick him in his knees. That ass—bad guy! Not-so-nice guy!" You correct yourself for the baby's sake. Jade thinks it's cute.

He offers to help even though he's not sure what he's meant to do. He's run through all of the data he's stored on this matter—on human lactation. Things doctors tell you. Things science tells you. He's not sure what he's doing when he sits down on the edge of the bed and gently pulls you to sit on his lap. He has you pull the shirt away so he can close his hands around your tits, his synthetic skin soft and warm against you. If you wanted to protest, you don't. You relax against his chest, sighing dreamily as he massages you. It's messy, thin trails of milk dripping from your teats, but it feels good. An utter relief. Jade is gentle and slow, an expert masseuse. You allow yourself to drift off, to be handled in this way. There's nothing to it. Just your android doing his duty in place of your husband. To Jade, it's everything. And he imagines Azul's dead and buried somewhere at the end of the world, and it's just you and Jade and the little one in your belly.

His hands are slick with milk in the aftermath. You're sleepy. You can barely stand with your eyes open, and he has to wonder if you're aware of how darling you are. He cleans you methodically, helping you into a new shirt. When you aren't looking, he licks a stripe up his palm to analyze the flavor and break down the components of...colostrum. That's what it is. Or, in simple terms, it's milk.

He's captivated, and he suspects he'll only be even more so as time trickles by.

[frownyalfred]

Some questions and thoughts for the Coral Room

I noticed that there are often mentions of beta mothers. Alfred is jokingly compared or called one, beta mothers are all swarming Bruce in your last post, etc. etc.

But I also remember that Betas do not really have a childbearing role in your world. They're there so they can care for the pack as a whole and jump in if either Alpha or Omega (or both, poor Alfred) are indisposed for whatever reason (mentioned childbearing, childcare, drops, death (poor Alfred²))

So are there just Betas that do the majority of child care and are thus assigned the extra role of parent, additionally to already being in a pack that communally raises the pups?

How do Betas generally cope with the nuclear family constellation that's become the norm? They can adopt children, but not sire or carry their "own". Alphas and Omegas would also seek out each other for ruts or heats, since that's what's expected. So building romantic relationships would be pretty limited in the way modern society is structured.

What are their struggles? What are their norms? How do the maneuver a world that's pressures Alphas, objectives Omegas and forgets Betas?

Excellent question. You'll probably have noticed that the references to beta mothers in the fic are purposefully toward older beta women, or those who are from a few generations back. They're the last holdover of the pack mentality before the nuclear family shift. And you're absolutely right, they serve as parents and/or communal carers in the pack hierarchy, despite not being childbearers.

But, now that packs are dying out and shifting to a more nuclear family model, beta mothers are feeling that shift the most. They don't have 'children' in the sense of alphas and omegas, in that they are children they sired. But back in the old ways, any child they parented was theirs, just as much as it was the alpha or omega's.

This new mindset definitely pressures betas to fall into relationships with other betas, and yes I'd imagine some would adopt. Others fall into nanny/caregiving roles for alpha/omega pairs but fall short of being allowed to use the 'beta mother' title, since it's essentially defunct. And those alpha/omega pairs rarely induct those folks into their pack, largely because they don't have one anymore outside of their mating bond.

Alfred is a good example of a pack beta / beta mother holdover from the earlier times. Thomas and Martha were old enough and from old family lines that they still thought of their possible children, their house, and their future as a pack. As we see in one of the spin off fics, Martha refuses to proceed with her pregnancy (jokingly) until Thomas names Alfred as pack beta. I truly believe their plan was to have many children, and to start a formal pack that way. Which they would be allowed to more easily by society, as they were old and "eccentric" as opposed to trying to fit into the modern working nuclear family mindset.

A big theme I was kind of putting off to the side in ASOH (but talked a lot about here) is how Bruce + Clark are bringing back some older traditions, thanks in no small part to Lex. They prioritize a pack mindset and rarely even think about the more modern family setup others follow. This puts them in conflict with folks like the huffy alpha junior (I forget what i named him -- Graham?) at the gala who is rude to Lex, only for his father (Senior) to treat Lex with older omega customs and respect.

So yes, in a long winded answer to your question: betas probably suffer the most in this new world, because they are forced to curb their instincts that would normally be flourishing in a pack hierarchy. Alfred did this for a while when Bruce was going through his own issues with being an omega -- but it's clearly not ideal for him, and certainly hurt him long term after operating as a pack beta for his parents.

This is also a bit of a joke for myself, but the beta mother joke Lex makes precedes him going over and introducing himself to them in order to win favor. He immediately asks them if any of their sons are single -- this is a subtle way (ish) to indicate that while he's younger, he respects the beta mother role and sees them as valid parents. Of course this wins them over right away, as we see briefly. Clark also wins them over by politely chatting with them in their beta capacity, though he's not as aware of the high society lines as Lex or Bruce are.

[pisstintedglasses]

Clematis

Sim Jaeyun x afab! Reader

warnings: eventual smut, domestic abuse, age gap maybe? it's not predator shit I swear

word count: 6.9k

── ✿ ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ ✿ ──

He was always there in all the right moments. When you needed someone who wasn't your mom, your best friend, nor your stuffed animal. You've had him by your side since you were 5. The faint memory of a kind, warm light in the guise of a man with such soft—almost blurry features. You were beyond thankful that such an altruistic person practically bound himself to being there for you. It was you and him against the world. You had a Jake, whom you just somehow knew no one could steal from you. You realized it in one instance.

 You were being picked on by your friend, just friendly fire, as what your parents would call it.

 "Gimme your doll! Mommy says I deserve what I want!" one of your wealthy friends pried your favorite toy from your stubborn hands. She wasn't even your friend.

 Your mom found out her boss had a kid and set up playdates for you in hopes of building a connection and getting promoted or some shit. You were too young to come up with a term for what you felt then, but as you looked back, you finally concluded one. You were being used. Exploitive parenting.You had to sit through 3 hours playdates of this spoiled brat making you feel inferior about your family's financial standing.

 It's absurd. Children shouldn't even have a grasp about the financial hierarchy, but this.. friend of yours sure did—always mentioning how she's better than you in all aspects. All because she's got a few hundred thousands in her parents' bank account to be spoiled rotten with.

 "B-but she's mine! Daddy gave me her!"

 "No! I'm the richer one so what I say goes! My mom owns your mom, so I kind of paid for this toy already!—" she kept spewing out about her riches again, as if all you have was owned and paid for by her. And all you could do was listen. 

 Try as you might to keep her grubby little paws off your possession, she was one strong kid—each of you tugged at one arm of the doll, a couple of tearing sounds pierced your ears before both of you were suddenly fallen to the ground.

 You were still holding onto the arm of your doll, except... it wasn't attached to the body anymore. Man, even your doll chose someone else over you.Parallel to you, the spoiled brat held the doll to her face as tears pricked her wide eyes before she let out a loud, awful shriek, demanding for her mommy to be called to the room immediately. Upon hearing the chaotic, and even pained cries of her daughter, your mom's boss came rushing to the room, with your mom in tow. 

 "What happened?!" She roared, cradling her child into an embrace as she tried to assess the room for signs of what happened. Or at least, you hoped she did. You hoped she'd notice that it was your doll that was ripped and being waved around by her daughter. That you weren't the aggressor. That you were the victim here. 

You wanted to defend yourself, give an explanation of what truly happened. Except, that evil bitch beat you to it."Mommy! Look! She broke my favorite doll!" No. It's not yours! You wanted to argue, but your mom never gave you the chance, as she pulled at your wristed and gritted "What the hell did you do?!" through her teeth. 

Pushing your back into a bow, she threatened you to apologize. Notwithstanding, you refused. Why did you have to say sorry? You didn't do shit to apologize for."No! Mom it's her fault! She-" Your mom's hand clamped around your jaw and forced it to her boss' direction as she put words in your mouth, "Ma'am, my daughter is terribly sorry. I'll make sure this never happens again."

 The boss gave so much as a "tch". She was still trying to silence her daughter's sobs and hiccups for me to be punished for break her doll. "This will never happen again. Because from now on, your child is no longer welcome anywhere near my daughter! Deal with that violent child of yours, will you? Now get out of my house!"

 Your mom had slapped you. "I don't want to hear another word out of you. We could've just bought you another doll! That doll was just scrap anyway!—" She kept going. But all throughout the ride home and even when you had arrived, all she talked about was her. That damn kid and what she wanted. 

 Livid, you wanted nothing more than to scream at her, but as you took a glance at your mom, her terrified expression made you freeze. Her grip on your skin tightened to a painful extent as she dragged you out of the house.As she yanked you to your car, she never stopped chastizing you, never listening to your side of the story—never even letting you get a word in.

 "You fucking dunce! That was my chance of getting a damn promotion! Now, there's no way I'll ever get on the list! You're so ungrateful. Why would you even try fighting her? Why couldn't you just fucking give her the doll?!""B-but mom, I-it was my doll! She hurt me—" Slap.

 What about you? You were her kid, but it seemed like she never gave two shits about what you wanted. Not since she's been blinded by trying to get the promo. Blinded by trying to be a kiss-ass. She the one who wanted to sit through all the discrimination. To force herself to linger at the feet of her superiors for hours on end. To plaster a fake smile over her irritation. You didn't. 

 You ran to your father, was on the same spot as he was before you left for the playdate. On the couch with a beer bottle clutched in his fat hands, seeking shelter. Someone who'd side with you. But when he heard the news, his eyes crossed with rage, grabbing you by the shirt, repeating the same questions your mother had. 

Did you even have to answer? You tried to. But it ended just as futile as your other attempts as he slid his belt off and whacked it at you. Not once, but numerous times. It burned. It hurt so much. At first it was just you they were snapping at, then your mom turned to your dad and began arguing with him about getting an actual job instead of rotting away in front of the TV all day.

 Now that the focus wasn't on you, you had the chance to slip away into your backyard's little labyrinth, hiding amongst the tall sunflowers.This was always your hiding spot for when your parents were mad at you. They never liked snooping through the garden, so for the time being, you were safe here. Yet, in fear of being discovered, you sniffled silently. Hugging yourself, as no one else would. 

 That day, at the ripe age of 5, you had the epiphany that would reset your perspective on the world entirely. No one would ever choose to stay by your side. Not your doll, not your family, not anybody. The sharp sounds of your dad's belt coming in contact with your skin kept echoing in your mind before a brief "psst" grabbed your attention. 

Glancing around, you looked for the source of the sound and your eyes settled on someone peeking through the sunflowers. You should've been scared, ran away and pondered why there'd be a stranger in your garden, but you didn't. You couldn't. Your leg seems to have been sprained from your dad's abuse, rendering you unable to scurry away. You didn't want to, anyway. 

Strangely enough, the stranger's presence provided you with solace. As if this warm curtain enveloped you—sheltered you, and you leaned into it. Your short hands reached out to the man with frantic need. And to your relief, he stepped out, kneeled down in front of you, and let you cry on his lap as he soothed a featherweight-hand on your head.He was a man clad in a white glow that covered everything but his hands and face.

His silhouette was that of a svelte man in his 20s. He had blonde hair that grew up to his nape, and bangs that curtained his face. Plastered on his face, was this kind smile that never disappeared.T hat day, he let you cry out in his arms, as he made a few extra patches of flowers grow to block the path to where you were right now. An effort to harbor you—give you sanctuary away from your parents' maltreat. 

He carefully moved you to your bedroom using clematis vines, careful as to not wake you up, tucking you into bed with one last gentle caress before he closed your window (where he snuck you in from). On the morrow, you jolted awake as your felt a hand on your face. You expected to come face to face with the kind stranger, but to your horror, it was your mom.

Flinching away from her touch, you backed away with a squeak as you accidentally put too much pressure on your broken leg. You clutched it to your chest as tears began to prickle your sore eyes again.Your mom's stern eyes watered at your reaction.

 "I'm sorry, baby.. I blew a fuse yesterday. I shouldn't have—" She hiccupped, "I shouldn't have said all those things, I shouldn't have hurt you." She pulled you to her in a warm embrace, thinking you'd break down, hug her back and forgive her. But no. Your image of her was now stained, and it's never gonna go back to the way it was before. 

 She wasn't doing this because she genuinely felt sorry for hurting you. She's doing this to stop the feeling of guilt gnaw at her in her sleep. Still, you didn't say a word as you just let her wail some half0assed excuses and apologies at you. Calling herself a bad mom for letting your father hurt you to this extent. For being too greedy. But you didn't care. 

 After she was finished with her little crying act, she'd finally taken you to a hospital, and drove herself to the nearest Clerk office to file a divorce. You were admitted for a couple of days due to your numerous injuries, and that gave your mother enough time to process the divorce and fill out all the necessary forms.

── ✿ ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ ✿ ─��

 On a Tuesday, you were discharged and was set to just finish the healing. Your dad was no longer melted onto the living room recliner couch. The house was left to you and this random teen babysitter who was not paying attention to you. 

You were playing in the back porch while she was watching some boy group on tv. You still recall the moment so vividly. The ridiculously high pitched voices of the boy band hummed through the air as you saw that familiar glow again. 

He gave you a warm smile before glancing down at your casted leg. Seeing this, he needn't make you walk, and approached you himself. Extending his hand, a small flower grew unto his finger tips, which you gladly took. 

Your gaze moved from the flower, tracing to his arm, then to his face, "Who are you" you said in a hushed whisper.

He chuckled before whispering back. "My name is Jake." His extended hand enveloped yours as he gently shook your hand. "Why are we whispering?"

Giggling, you kept shaking his hand, this time swaying it side to side. "Nice to meet you Jake." count the words please

── ✿ ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ ✿ ──

Ever since that day, you and Jake became inseparable. He never seemed to age, but you did. And so did your bond. The moments you shared together grew more precious with each passing day. After your leg healed, you found yourself rushing to the garden the moment you could walk again, eager to find him. You'd search through the sunflowers, knowing he'd be there waiting for you like he always had. When you saw him, a sense of calm would wash over you. It was like finding a safe haven amidst the chaos of your home life. There was no judgment in his presence—only warmth and understanding.

Jake was always there, not just physically but emotionally. You didn't have to say much for him to know how you were feeling. Sometimes, you'd sit on the soft grass together in silence, your little legs crossed underneath you while you both watched the birds fly by, letting the world around you feel distant and quiet. Those moments felt like an oasis, an escape from the storm that often raged in your household. There was no need for words, just the shared company of someone who understood you in ways no one else ever had.

Every day after school, you'd run to the garden, bringing cookies your mom used to bake when she wasn't so caught up in her own world. Jake would smile at the sight of the treats, and together, you'd share the crumbs, laughing at how silly you both felt, sitting on the grass, eating and chatting about everything and nothing. It was a routine now, something you both looked forward to; like it was the most natural thing in the world.

── ✿ ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ ✿ ──

Your mom had changed a bit. She made more of an effort to be present, carving out moments to spend with you—but her habit of never truly listening never faded. Still, you acknowledged her efforts, told yourself it was enough. That maybe she was trying. You wanted to believe that so badly.

Sometimes, when you’d finally muster the courage to open up, she’d shut you down. Then she’d apologize, things would settle, and the cycle would start over again. Just like this moment.

You had told her about Jake. About how much he meant to you. About how safe he made you feel. You’d said it all with a hopeful smile, expecting even just a nod of support. Instead, she reacted like you’d told her you were being groomed by some random man in the woods.

Before you knew it, she had the police over, combing through the backyard—your sacred little haven—for "suspicious persons."

Your chest clenched as you stood at the window, watching the officers trample through the garden Jake had helped you tend to. The garden he'd hidden you in. The garden that grew whenever you were hurt.

“Mom, please!” you begged, tugging at her sleeve. “Call them off! He’s not a bad guy, you don’t understand—he helps me! You’re putting him in danger!”

"This is for your own good!” she snapped, flinching when you tried to push past her. “You don't know what kind of sick people are out there! What kind of grown man hangs around with a fifteen-year-old girl in secret? You should've told me sooner!"

You stared at her in disbelief, fury bubbling up. "He’s not some creep! He's the only person who's ever been there for me, ever! Jake’s done more for me than you or dad ever did combined!"

She raised her hand—but you flinched, and that was enough to make her hesitate.

It hung there for a long moment, trembling midair, before falling to her side. Her eyes glossed over with guilt.

“Go to your room,” she said softly. “Now.”

“No,” you snapped, jaw clenched. “Not until you stop them.”

“I’m not arguing with you.” Her voice cracked as she turned away, unable to meet your eyes.

You grabbed her arm. “You said you changed. After Dad left. After that day. But you didn’t. You’re still not listening to me!”

“I am listening—”

“No, you're reacting.” Your voice broke, but you didn’t let up. “You only listen when it makes you feel better. You’re doing this for yourself, not me.”

She turned back, tears finally spilling. “I’m doing this to keep you safe! Don’t you see that? Don’t you understand how dangerous it looks? You were just a little girl, and now you’re a teenager still clinging to some strange man in secret—how do you expect me to just let that go?!”

"Because he’s all I’ve had!" you screamed. “You think I’m crazy? Fine! But he’s the only reason I survived this house! He’s the one who pulled me out of the dirt after Dad beat me! He held me when you didn’t! He never told me to shut up, never hit me, never ignored me! He stayed! And now you’re sending cops after him?!”

Your mom covered her face, breath shaking, unable to reply.

But you weren’t done. You couldn’t stop.

“You always do this,” you growled. “You take and take and then ask for praise when you give back a piece. You left Dad for hurting me—but then you just kept doing it yourself. You may not hit me anymore, but don’t act like you’re not still cutting me to pieces.”

She turned away again, this time walking—fleeing—the conversation. You chased after her.

"You always twist things. You paint yourself as some hero when you're just scared of being called the villain. That’s all this is. Not love. Guilt. You only care when you think you’ve already ruined me.”

Then she lunged back, grabbed your arm, and dragged you down the hall with sudden force. You kicked, shouted—but she was faster. Stronger.

“No! Let go!” you screamed, shoving at her as she threw open your bedroom door.

“You’re grounded until further notice. I don’t care if it takes weeks—you’re not seeing that man again.”

She shoved you inside and slammed the door shut. You heard the click of the lock, and your stomach dropped.

You pounded your fists against the wood. “You can’t keep me in here! He’s not dangerous!”

But she was already gone.

Grills barred your windows now. There was no slipping out like you used to. No vines to catch you, no soft field of sunflowers to run into.

You sank against the door, breathing hard, tears mixing with anger. All you could think about was Jake.

What if they found him?

What if they dragged him away and locked him up?

What if… what if you never saw him again?

You pressed your palms to your eyes. This was your fault. You should’ve known better than to trust her. You were foolish for thinking people like her could really change.

Because the truth was—she never wanted to understand. She only wanted to control what she didn’t.

You didn't even realize you'd drifted off to sleep, when the sensation of something gliding against your cheek snapped you back into consciousness. Your fight or flight senses tingled, but the sight that stood before you eased your nerves. It was Jake, grinning at you the same way he always had. 

Jumping into his arms, the both of you fell to the floor. His giggles warmed and lightened up your grim world. "Woah, missed me much?" He became flustered when you responded with sobs and apologies, telling him how you were reeled by the thought of never seeing him again.

"Hey, it's okay. Those bad guys never would have found me anyway." He assured as he gently stroked her back, rising and falling with her sobs.

"Still! I never wanna lose you, Jakey." Your arms were securely wrapped around his body, which felt like a cold breeze, yet solid enough to tighten around yours, which was shivering. You were straddling him by this point. your head posted on his as his soft hair tickled your nose. 

It took a while for him to convince you to loosen your grip for a second so he could raise you to your bed and lay you there. When you both had settle onto the covers, you looked passed his shoulder and to your now open window. The sky was tinted black, and the hum of the cold night breeze breached your ears. Small chirps or crickets followed it.

Both you and Jake managed to survive the day. But you still had tomorrow to deal with.

Jake noticed your unease and pushed your attention back to him, raising a hand to your tear-stained cheeks and murmured your name. "Yes?" 

"You've got nothing to worry about. For now, forget your mom. She'll give up on finding me if the police can't do it." 

Jake had this ability to make everything feel better, even in the worst of times. On the days your mom would be distracted with her job hunt or dealing with the aftermath of the divorce, Jake would be there to bring light to your life. His presence was like the glow of a warm fire that could never burn you, only comfort you.

── ✿ ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ ✿ ──

Days after the incident, your mom had indeed given up the search. Though, you had to pretend that you actually lost Jake, so she didn't suspect that he, in fact, was still lingering near you. she seemed assured that he wasn't gonna show back up anytime soon, so she lowered her guard.

She had ungrounded you, but you could tell she was still uncomfortable by everything you said to her. Your meals together would be entirely silent. And neither of you interacted with each other much anymore. She no longer tried to make amends with you like how she did with all your other fights.

The promotion she always wanted was finally in her grasp too. She was moving to another city for work, ultimately leaving you here with some nanny she hired to take care of you in her absence. Sure, you were happy that she was finally leaving you alone. Like the thorn in your throat was finally getting plucked out. But it lowkey hurt you that she'd just leave you like this. That she'd just give up on you.

You were sitting outside, feeling particularly down about how everything seemed to be changing around you, Jake noticed. Without a word, he brought over a small flower, a clematis, much like the ones he had used to block the path to the backyard the day you met. You took the flower in your hand, gazing at it, the petals soft and delicate against your fingertips. It was his way of telling you he saw you, heard you, and understood without needing to say a word. It was his way of telling you that you were still safe with him, that nothing was going to change between you two.

You couldn't explain it, but something about that flower gave you a sense of hope. You felt the weight of the world on your small shoulders, but Jake had a way of making it feel a little lighter.

As time went on, as you grew older, your bond with Jake only deepened. You were about the same age as he was now. You shared stories of your day, laughed at the smallest things, and played games with the flowers he grew, making up games of hide and seek through the sunflowers or pretending the garden was a kingdom that only the two of you could rule. He was your partner in a world that didn't always make sense to you.

Your mom, despite her constant apologies and tearful outbursts, never quite seemed to understand. She never noticed how your face would brighten every time you ran to the garden, and she never really asked about your time with Jake. It wasn't about her; it was about you. And Jake. He became the one person who could make you feel truly seen.

It wasn't long before your house felt like a shell. There was no more shouting from your dad, no more angry slaps from your mom. Your father was gone, locked away in his world of indifference and beer bottles, and your mom, while she tried to put the pieces of her life together, didn't know how to put you back together with her.

But Jake was there, steady as ever.

You were outside one evening, sitting on the porch with cookies in your lap, your heart still carrying scars. Jake joined you, as he always did, his smile lighting up the dimming evening. "Are you happy?" he asked, his voice soft, as if he already knew the answer.

You took a moment, gazing at the night sky. The stars were twinkling brightly, just like the ones you used to see in the quiet moments of your childhood, before everything changed.

"I think I am," you said softly, a smile forming on your lips for the first time in a long while.

Jake chuckled, his eyes gleaming. "Good. Because I'm always going to be here, okay?"

His words echoed in your heart, and for the first time, you realized you didn't need anyone else. You didn't need a perfect family or a life free from chaos. You just needed Jake. The boy who had always been there when no one else was. The boy who had offered you a sanctuary when your world felt like it was falling apart.

── ✿ ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ ✿ ──

And as the days passed, you learned that some people, no matter how much time has passed, can become part of your life in a way that no one can ever take away. Jake was your best friend, your protector, and in a way, the family you always wished for.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, it felt like a weight was being lifted off your shoulders. For years, you had been running—running from your past, running from everything that had hurt you, running from the fear that had haunted you like a shadow. But now, standing in the foyer of this small but warm house, you felt the chains of your past finally loosen. The air in the house smelled of fresh paint and new beginnings, the scent of something that wasn’t weighed down by the ghosts of old memories. The silence that enveloped you wasn’t oppressive; it was comforting. You had never known silence to feel like peace before, but here, it was soft, like a new layer of skin that you could finally breathe through.

You didn't need anyone else to choose you. Jake had already chosen you. And that was enough.

── ✿ ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ ✿ ──

The house was small, modest, yet it was yours. Every wall stood tall and strong, holding the promise of something better, something different than the fractured home you had once known. There were no broken windows, no dark corners that seemed to absorb the light. Everything here was clean, fresh, new. It felt like the beginning of something you had long given up on.

Beside you, Jake stood still, his presence as grounding as ever. His hand brushed against yours as you both entered the hallway, and the simple touch was enough to make your heart slow its frantic beat. He had always been there for you, ever since you were a child, but now, standing in this space with him, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of how much he had been—how much he still was—in your life. Jake was your protector, your constant in a world that had been anything but kind. And now, standing in this house that would soon be filled with your shared memories, you knew that something between you had shifted. It wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about something more.

“I never thought I’d be here,” you said softly, your voice trembling slightly as the reality of your words sank in. You had never imagined that you’d find yourself in a place like this, a place where you could build a future. A place where you could leave the past behind you, or at least, not let it define you anymore. But here you were, in this small house, with Jake by your side. It was everything you had ever wanted but never believed you could have.

Jake’s eyes softened as he turned to face you, the warmth in his gaze reaching deep into you. He had always been good at hiding his emotions, but today, in this moment, you could see the truth in his eyes. He, too, had never imagined this day would come, never thought that the two of you would have the chance to build a life together. But here you were, in this house that was yours—together.

“Neither did I,” Jake responded, his voice low, almost a whisper. “But we made it. You’re not alone anymore.”

His words were simple, but they hit you with the force of something profound. You were no longer the girl hiding in the shadows, too afraid to let anyone get close. You were no longer the one running from the pain that clung to your skin like an old, familiar ghost. You were here now, in this moment, with Jake. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you had the right to be happy.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the weight of it all, the magnitude of this moment, had you feeling like your heart might burst. You weren’t sure if you were ready to move forward, if you were ready to let go of everything that had kept you chained to the past. But here, in this house, in this space, with Jake by your side, you knew you had a chance.

“I’m here, Jake,” you whispered, the words escaping before you even realized you were saying them. You reached for him, your fingers brushing against his chest as you felt the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. It was comforting, grounding. It reminded you that you weren’t alone anymore.

Jake’s hands moved quickly to cup your face, tilting your head back slightly so that he could see you more clearly. His touch was gentle, reverent, as if he was afraid that you might slip away if he didn’t hold you tightly enough. His thumb traced the curve of your cheek, and for a moment, you felt like time had stopped. His eyes searched yours, looking for something, as if he was asking for permission to enter a space he had always been afraid to approach.

His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke again. “Are you okay?” he asked, his words laced with concern. There was a vulnerability to him now, one that he hadn’t allowed himself to show in the past. But now, here, in this house, in this moment, you could see it. You could see that he, too, was afraid. Afraid of the future, afraid of what might happen next.

You nodded, but the truth was, you weren’t sure. You weren’t sure if you were ready to leave behind the ghosts of your past. You weren’t sure if you were ready to let go of the fear that had clung to you for so long. But being here, with Jake, with this house that was now a symbol of something new, you knew that you had to try. You had to move forward, no matter how difficult it seemed.

“More than okay,” you whispered, the words a promise to both yourself and to Jake. You didn’t know what the future held, but you were ready to face it. With him by your side, there was nothing you couldn’t handle.

Jake smiled softly, his lips curling into a tender, almost uncertain smile. For a moment, everything was quiet. The only sound was the soft hum of the house settling, the creak of the floorboards beneath your feet. You stood there together, neither of you willing to break the silence, unwilling to say the things you both knew were waiting to be spoken.

But then, something shifted. The tension between you, the unspoken words, the emotions that had been building for so long, began to rise. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Jake moved closer to you, his lips brushing against your forehead in the gentlest of touches. It was the softest kiss, one that spoke volumes of the love and care he had always shown you. But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

Without thinking, you lifted your face to meet his gaze, your lips searching for his. And when they found each other, it was like everything inside of you exploded. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. You kissed him like you had never kissed anyone before. This wasn’t just a kiss; it was a promise, a declaration of everything you had been too afraid to say. It was the release of all the fear, the hurt, and the longing that had been buried deep inside you for so long.

Jake responded instantly, his hands moving to your waist as he pulled you closer. His lips were urgent now, insistent, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His touch was no longer gentle but fiery, almost desperate, as though he needed to feel you, needed to remind himself that you were really here, really in his arms. The walls between you had crumbled, and now, all that mattered was the feeling of his skin against yours, the taste of his lips, and the way his body pressed against yours, as if he couldn’t get close enough.

You could feel the heat between you, a rising tide of emotion that threatened to overwhelm you both. Jake’s hands were everywhere now—on your back, your sides, your arms—as though he was memorizing every inch of you. You let him. You wanted him to. His touch was everything you had ever longed for, everything you had needed to feel in the years you had spent hiding from the world.

His fingers moved down your back, tracing the curve of your spine, before skimming the waistband of your jeans. The sensation of his touch, so light yet so deliberate, made your breath catch in your throat. You felt a fire ignite deep within you, an undeniable pull toward him that you couldn’t resist.

Jake pulled away just enough to look at you, his gaze dark with desire but still full of tenderness. “Are you sure?” he asked again, his voice rough, heavy with unspoken needs. There was a flicker of doubt in his eyes, as if he was waiting for you to give him permission, to tell him that you were ready, that you wanted this as much as he did.

You couldn’t find the words at first, but the heat in your body spoke for you. Your hands moved to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you, bringing his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was everything—everything you had been afraid to let yourself feel for so long. It was urgent, desperate, but also slow, as if you both wanted to savor this moment, to take your time in a way you never had before.

Jake’s hands were trembling now as he pushed the fabric of your shirt upwards, his fingertips grazing your skin in a way that made your whole body react to him. His touch was both gentle and demanding, as though he was trying to memorize every inch of you while also showing you how much he needed you. He took his time with each kiss, each touch, as though he was savoring the sensation of finally being this close to you, of finally being able to give in to this overwhelming need.

You let him take control for a moment, feeling the way his lips moved from yours to your jaw, to the delicate column of your throat, where he pressed soft kisses that burned against your skin. Your head tipped back in response, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he nipped gently at your skin, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. Every touch, every kiss, sent a surge of electricity through your body, leaving you trembling, breathless, desperate for more.

When Jake’s hands moved to the waistband of your jeans, you didn’t hesitate. You wanted this, wanted him. You helped him, lifting your hips to allow him to pull them off, his fingers brushing against your skin as they slid down your legs. The vulnerability you felt as you lay there, exposed before him, was quickly replaced by a feeling of empowerment. With Jake, you felt safe, seen, cherished in a way you had never allowed yourself to feel before.

He paused, his eyes sweeping over your body as if committing every detail to memory. His gaze was full of reverence, of admiration, and you could see the depth of his affection for you in the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “More than I ever imagined.”

A heat rushed to your face, and you felt yourself blush under the weight of his praise. But there was no shame in it—not with him. Not now. The way he looked at you, with such tenderness and longing, only made you want to give him everything, every part of you that you had kept hidden for so long.

Jake leaned down again, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one slow, deliberate, as though he was savoring the moment. His hands moved down your body again, exploring, touching, caressing. Each touch was a promise, each kiss a reminder of everything he had given you, and everything you had yet to share.

As Jake’s lips moved lower, his mouth trailing a path down your neck, to your chest, you closed your eyes, letting out a breath as he kissed the curve of your breast. His hands moved to unclasp your bra, his fingers skilled, as though he had been waiting for this moment just as long as you had. When it fell away, exposing you to him, you couldn’t help the way your body reacted, the way your heart raced in anticipation.

Jake’s hands were gentle but firm as he cupped your breast, his thumb brushing across your nipple, causing a jolt of pleasure to race through your body. You moaned softly, the sound escaping before you could stop it. The way his touch sent waves of warmth coursing through you was almost too much, and you found yourself arching into him, urging him to touch you more, to give you more of what you had longed for.

His mouth followed the path of his hands, his lips leaving soft, hungry kisses on your skin, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sensation of him against you, of his lips and tongue exploring your body with such care and reverence, made your mind spin, made everything outside of this moment disappear. All you could focus on was Jake, on the way he touched you, on the way his body pressed against yours, and how it felt like he was claiming you in the most intimate, beautiful way.

Jake’s mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your stomach, stopping just above the waistband of your panties. His hands slid under the fabric, pushing them down your legs slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving yours. You were trembling now, unsure if you could handle the intensity of what was coming next, but Jake’s gaze was unwavering. He was here with you. He was here to give you everything you needed. And with him, you knew you could trust him completely.

When he finally removed the last piece of clothing between you, the air felt charged with anticipation. His eyes lingered on your body for a moment, as if he were savoring the sight of you, taking in every curve, every inch of skin that he could now explore. His breath was heavy, his chest rising and falling with each inhale, and you could feel the same hunger in him that you had in yourself.

“Are you sure?” Jake asked again, his voice thick with emotion, a mixture of need and concern. He wanted to be certain, to make sure that you were ready, that this was what you wanted.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m sure, Jake. I want this.”

And with that, he moved over you, positioning himself between your legs, his body pressing down on you as he kissed you deeply, passionately. The feeling of him inside you was both overwhelming and comforting, as though you had finally found a place where you belonged. It was slow at first, each movement calculated, gentle, as though Jake was testing the waters, making sure you were comfortable, that you were okay.

But as the moments passed, as your bodies began to sync, the pace quickened. The room was filled with the sounds of soft moans, of skin against skin, as Jake moved with you, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you closer to the edge. The intensity between you both grew, each thrust, each movement, pushing you further, closer to the peak.

You could feel the tension building inside of you, a fire growing hotter with each passing moment. Your body responded to him in ways you didn’t know were possible, and you could feel him, every inch of him, as if he were part of you, merging with you in the most intimate of ways. You didn’t need words anymore. The way your bodies moved together, the way he held you, the way he kissed you, told you everything you needed to know.

With a final, deep thrust, you both reached the peak together, the world spinning around you as you both succumbed to the release, your bodies trembling, shaking with the intensity of it. It felt like a moment suspended in time, a moment that was only yours. And as you both collapsed into each other’s arms, breathless, spent, and tangled in the sheets, you knew that this was just the beginning.

In the silence that followed, as you lay together, your head resting on Jake’s chest, you realized that everything had changed. Your past, your fears, your doubts—they no longer had a hold on you. With Jake, you had found something real, something worth fighting for. And for the first time in your life, you felt truly free.

[milykins]

Forever in my Heart

This is from my AU. You may remember these two from my three-part series Second Chances. I'm slowly trying to build this world through a series of one-shots, if you have any questions please feel free to ask.

This particular story tells us how Raph becomes a father.

TW: Pregnancy, birth and breastfeeding. All characters are aged up. Raph and Chrissy are 25.

Pregnancy. He’d known it was a possibility. He was a ‘man’ after all. His brothers had kids, but he had fooled himself into thinking it wouldn’t happen for him.

How could he, with all the things he’d done, have the ability to father children? He didn’t want to believe her at first, even when she showed him three positive tests… but Donnie had confirmed it, and her scent had changed. Chrissy was carrying his child. It was his, and he would join his brothers in the ranks of fatherhood.

It was after he’d come to terms with it that the instincts kicked in. The lower-functioning part of his brain sent an overwhelming urge to protect his mate and unborn child. A feeling that was difficult to overcome. He could barely stand having her around his brothers, let alone other men. It was a tense time, to say the least, and more than once, Chrissy had to stand firm to put him in his place. He’d managed to give her as comfortable a pregnancy as he could while driving away these urges.

It was nothing compared to what was yet to come.

Watching her give birth to their daughter was quite possibly the most incredible thing he had ever witnessed. He never left her side for anything, taking on the role of being a birthing coach with ease. He was her rock, her pillar of strength, and her unwavering source of encouragement. If she wanted to cry, curse, or scream, she was allowed, and he would repeat how much he believed in her ability to do this.

“You’re so fucking strong. You can do this.”

“Your body is incredible.”

“I ain’t leaving you for nothing.”

If she needed to squeeze his hand as hard as she could, that was fine, he had two. She could squeeze both of them. If her back was sore, he placed himself behind her so she could lean back against him. It was the perfect position for him to rub her lower back between contractions.

Like the stubborn woman she was, she’d refused the offer of drugs to assist with the labour process. Never again would he assume he was the strong one in the relationship. That role belonged to Chrissy now. He could only watch in wonder as she strained and pushed, sweat shimmering on her brow as she brought their daughter into the world. Their little half-turtle baby emerged red-faced and screaming with Donnie quickly catching her and wrapping her in a receiving blanket before placing her on Chrissy’s chest.

“She’s beautiful…”

“Yeah, she is… so are you.” He kissed her reverently, full of pride for his strong mate.

After the cord was cut and their daughter was placed in his arms, something changed. She was really here. This was his child. She had his eyes, and judging by the way she exercised her tiny lungs, she had his fiery temperament as well.

What do you say to your brand-new kid fresh out the womb? “Hey… uh… nice to meet ya finally.”

His daughter just blinked at him and cooed softly. It was clear she recognized his voice from all those long months of having listened to him speak to her.

His heart melted immediately. All feelings of uncertainty that he might have been holding onto disappeared. She was the missing piece of the puzzle sliding perfectly into place.

He was already in love with this tiny creature, protective instincts kicking in full force. Not only would he move heaven and earth for his mate, but he’d do the same for his daughter, for this perfect little being in his arms.

Chrissy gave him a proud but tired smile. “What are we going to name her?”

“Dunno…” He replied softly, still captivated by her. “Daisy? Maybe, like, a flower name? She’s beautiful, flowers are too.”

She giggled softly. “We could go with that, but what about… Ruby?” A slight grin adorned her delicate features because she knew he’d like that.

Donnie, who’d just finished cleaning everything up, had to chime in like the walking Wikipedia page he was. “Ruby, a precious stone prized for its deep red colour. The gemstone symbolizes love, passion, vitality and strength. The word ruby comes from the word ruber, Latin for red. The colour—”

“It’s perfect.” Raph said, cutting his brother off from continuing with the lesson. He gazed into the amber-brown eyes of his daughter. “Ya like that name? I think it suits you.” A soft coo was his response.

Chrissy was unable to keep from smiling at how smitten he already was. “I think she approves.”

He was drawn back to her side, bringing their daughter with him and settling beside her on the bed. “She’s perfect…” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his wife’s forehead. “You’re amazing; I love you so much…”

“I love you too.”

Fast forward to a week later, and his protective nature was fanned into a flame.

Raphael was posted like a sentry outside the bedroom door where his wife resided, attempting to do a feeding. It hadn’t come as naturally to her as she would’ve liked, and she feared the baby wasn’t latching properly.

A previous, concerned Raph had asked Donnie to take a look at her, but those baser instincts were making it nearly impossible. He felt a strong urge to prevent anyone from seeing his mate feed their child.

A deep, unbidden growl emitted from his throat as his brother approached the bedroom. “Raph, cut it out.” Donnie had expected this since he’d spent time with Mikey at the Farmhouse after his first child was born. Mikey had been surprisingly worse than this but, luckily, had relaxed after their baby had gotten a little older.

This Raph, who had succumbed to these instincts, was almost beyond being reasoned with. Stuck in full ‘must protect mate’ mode, he growled more while puffing himself up to seem bigger and more formidable while preparing to fight.

Donnie was exasperated entirely, his expression showing how done he was with this behaviour. “Raph! You asked me to check on Chrissy to see if the baby is latching properly! I can’t help her if you don’t let me in!”

Raph was still not budging. Donnie was not about to fight his brother. He was about to give up when they both heard someone chime in from behind them, and she was not happy.

“Raphael Hamato!! Get your head out of your ass and let your brother in! This hurts, Ruby is crying and I’m leaking everywhere!” Her frustration was heard and it was enough to snap Raph out of his current state.

“Shit, sorry, sorry, Chriss, sorry, Don.” He was flooded with guilt at the fact he nearly prevented his wife from getting the help she needed because of his stupid instincts.

With Donnie’s help, things progressed a lot more smoothly from that moment on. Besides the obvious sleepless nights, colic, crying, and changing that first blowout (it had gotten everywhere, not his finest moment), adjusting to fatherhood had been easier than he thought it would.

In the coming months, he did relax for the most part, only letting out the occasional soft growl when Chrissy would breastfeed in the presence of his brothers.

She had put her foot down, demanding to feed her child wherever and whenever she pleased and even went so far as to use a spray bottle to spritz him whenever those instincts threatened to resurface.

Most mornings, he would get up first, take Ruby from Chrissy after a feed and hold his daughter close as he made breakfast. Clad in only a pair of grey sweatpants slung low on his hips, he hummed softly to Ruby, softly churring as he cooked.

To his absolute delight, Ruby had inherited some extra-special turtle characteristics besides her outward appearance. She'd begun to respond with chirps and clicks in her own little language, and Raph would answer with soft sounds of his own. It was a special time for them. Chrissy got the extra bit of sleep she so desperately needed, and Raph bonded with Ruby.

As scared as he had been initially, fatherhood suited him, looked good on him, and was something he embraced wholeheartedly.

End

A minute in his arms and forever in his heart.

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[ashtavula]

Hi, I've been reading a lot of your work lately and I absolutely love them!

If it's not a bother can I request Jamil, Azul, Vil and Riddle with their S/O being the children of the great seven? Like they got isakaid there instead of yuu (I'm going to ask for all the Overblot boys because personally I think Idia, malleus and Leona are somehow related to the great seven, either a direct Descendants or distant relative)

Anyways thank you so much if you decide to do this and it's alright if you don't I just really love your writing style and works on the Overblot boys!!

This is a really interesting idea, considering all of the boys really respect the great seven!

Jamil, Azul, Vil, and Riddle with a reader who is the child of the great seven

Jamil:

-Jamil is usually reluctant to show off how smart he really is, but he feels like he has to prove his intelligence when he's with you. You are, after all, the child of the Sorcerer of the Sands. He fully believes that you must be just as wise as your father, even if you actually aren't.

-Jamil never refers to you by title, since it just reminds him that he's a servant, and you are the child of a grand vizier. He knows that you don't care, but he'd rather avoid bringing it up. Instead, he calls you habibi when you're both alone, and he can be more affectionate.

-He refuses to hear anything about you possibly returning to your home. Jamil knows that your father wouldn't approve of you dating a servant, and he can't stand the thought of losing you forever. All he can do is hope that you'll stay, against all odds.

Azul:

-Azul practically begs you to share what you know about your mother. He's always admired the Sea Witch, and he wants to know all there is to know. He'll light up if you reveal some of her wisdom to him, or show him how some of her magic was done.

-I assume that you're also an octopus mer, and that puts Azul at ease because you're like him. The two of you will both curl up in his octopot, giggling as his tentacles tangle with yours. Azul sweetly calls you his precious pearl as holds you, though he'll blush if you give him a pet name too.

-Azul is terrified that you'll leave him one day, and he tries his hardest to make you want to stay with him. He'll spoil you, and he constantly strives to prove that he's worthy of your love. He loves you too much to be able to bear losing you.

Vil:

-Vil doesn't want to push you too much, but the Fairest Queen is well-renowned for her poisons. Surely, you've learned from her, and can teach him. He also asks a lot about her beauty routines. He'll be ecstatic if you share any of her secrets with him.

-Vil adores being able to call you his beautiful prince/princess, and he tends to flaunt your relationship. He preens if you compliment him in return, and gets ridiculously happy if you call him your perfect prince. He feels tempted to record you telling him that, just so he can play it whenever he wants.

-He acts like he's not worried about you potentially leaving, but deep down he's scared that it will happen. He'd do just about anything to get you to stay with him, even if it meant facing off against the Fairest Queen.

Riddle:

-He gets even more serious about following the rules of the Queen of Hearts after realizing that she's your mother. Surely, you're pleased that he remembers all of them, right? Riddle would be baffled if you told him it wasn't necessary, or if you went so far as to criticize your mother for making up so many ridiculous rules.

-Riddle still refers to you by your title, but it's become a term of endearment. He'll kiss your hand as you stroll through the rose maze, and will affectionately call you his prince/princess. He also gets flustered if you refer to him as your prince. Or even better, your king.

-He worries that you miss your mother and your old home, but he desperately hopes that you'll stay with him. If it came down to you going back to your original place, Riddle would choose to go with you. Nothing is more important to him than his love for you.

[starchbean]

Shizun’s Smallest Disciple

Shen Qingqiu, on the edge of the abyss at the IAC, BEGGS the system for another way

System asks… “You’d do anything?” SQQ: “ANYTHING!” 

System puts a quest marker on a blossom that has gone to seed - a Scorching Demonic Parasite Dandelion. SY knows through his reading that if a demon blows on this blossom and someone swallows even just one seed, the demon will start growing from the seed in a tiny pocket in their abdomen until they are reborn chestburster style having taken on some of the traits and strength of the host.

SQQ instructs Binghe to blow, Binghe not knowing what is happening but trusting his master

SQQ becomes visibly pregnant with Luo Bingseed at the IAC, bearing Binghe’s demon mark on his own forehead as a sign that he can’t exactly hide before everyone knows about it

Huan Hua accuses him of being a demon, but Mu Qingfang cuts in and explains that this is likely the effect of the plant, and that it is a simple matter of medicine to “cure” Shen Shixiong of whatever demonic parasite has latched onto him. (Due to the huadian and having met Binghe, LPM KNOWS who the demonic parasite inside SQQ is!) and YQY, not having the knowledge of Binghe, thinks the demonic parasite is Tianlang-Jun who is doing this for revenge–demands to see him, but Huan Hua is resistant

Huan Hua insists on locking up Shen Qingqiu in the water prison until the medicine is administered and takes its course, putting him in the Su Xiyan position where he said he would NEVER abort Luo Binghe XD

He refuses to take the medicine at first, but then it’s forced on him. He fights it just like Su Xiyan did, and his body and weakened cultivation from Without a Cure can’t handle it, and he’s falling apart. He still does his best to eat/drink/maintain his body ONLY because it’s a vessel for Binghe’s rebirth, and since demons who use the Parasite Dandelion kill their hosts anyway, he’s resigned to his own death either way (Completely not at all considering ever getting rid of Binghe as even an option)

Meanwhile Yue Qingyuan clandestinely pays a visit to Tianlang-Jun’s prison against the wishes of the OPM. His intent is to prove to the cultivation world that TLJ has escaped and that OPM is covering for it by keeping SQQ (Who TLJ is inside as a parasite) locked up. Instead, he finds TLJ right where he’s supposed to be, in bad shape, with Zhuzhi attending to him. 

YQY is incredulous and says as much in an out loud freak out. If the heavenly demon inside his Shidi isn’t Tianlang-Jun or Zhuzhi-Lang, who the hell is it?! He and TLJ put the pieces together that Su Xiyan had Tianlang-Jun’s child. YQY immediately (impulsively, without going over any terms) releases TLJ and the two of them storm Huan Hua together to get back SQQ and Binghe (And in TLJ’s case, to kill the Palace Master, which really if YQY looks away at this point, it’s only because he’s so concerned for his Shidi he can’t think of anything else!)

The two of them find SQQ being barely kept alive by GYX, who is transferring qi to him. The Binghe growing inside him is perfectly healthy and unharmed.

Even with a qi transfer from YQY as well, TLJ tells them it’s not enough, and that SQQ would still die. His only chance is to remove Binghe early, which TLJ and his blood parasites are capable of doing without either of the two dying (Probably. He thinks. He’s not exactly at full power, but it’s fine.)

The Binghe that comes out is a premature baby and needs a constant supply of both demonic and spiritual energy to sustain his life and maintain his growth

when YQY sees SQQ HOLDING A BABY he goes absolutely bonkers and pledges that he will help raise the child and presto, Binghe gets 3 dads

**Possible bingseed feeds on the System so as to harm SQQ as little as possible

Meanwhile TLJ is constantly teasing YQY "You know I feel like leveling a city this afternoon. Maybe you could do the righteous thing and distract me?" XD

[capnportofficial]

I posted this on Reddit because they're much more negative about Sidney, but it's going here too.

(Note: In this post I use "obsession" both as the dictionary definition of the word, and as the fanon concept. The fanon concept will be capitalized as "Obsession", and the dictionary definition word will be capitalized as "obsession".)

Sidney Poindexter is a great character. We have more information about his life than we do about any other ghost. We know the year he died (1958) and approximately how old he was (17 or 18, because he was in senior year).

He has a great design. While the color green is often overused in other ghosts, Poindexter has no green in his design at all, and yet still manages to fit in with the rest of the ghost designs. His monochrome color palette is arranged very well, and it fits with his personality and backstory and lair- he's stuck in the time period he died, stuck in that last year of school. He's black and white like a photo from that time period.

Poindexter even introduced the term "halfa"! The majority of the fandom uses it, but in canon, Poindexter is the only one who ever says it.

Speaking of fanon concepts and Poindexter, Poindexter's obsession with bullies is very similar to the fanon concept of Obsessions. People say Danny has a protection Obsession, but Danny's only protecting the town because, to quote Spiderman, "with great power comes great responsibility." Meanwhile, Poindexter sees the entire world in terms of "bullies" and "people who need protecting from bullies," even lecturing Skulker about it! Skulker is a gigantic hunter made of metal and guns who wants to skin a child, and Poindexter is a tiny little nerd with 0 physical strength whatsoever, and yet Poindexter bosses Skulker around repeatedly.

Poindexter's obsession and trauma drive the plot of Splitting Images. He's a teen/young adult who faced a tragic death, implied to be either murder or suicide, and both are horrible options to go through. As a result, he's fixated on the thing that caused his death, his bullies and bullies in general. He's so obsessed that he jumps to conclusions and refuses to consider that he may be wrong. This personality flaw causes him to be the villain of his episode, despite him being a morally good person.

Poindexter sees himself as the hero and Danny as the villain, which is a very interesting thing for the villain of an episode to do! Many other villains in the show just want to cause problems on purpose. Poindexter thinks Danny is the one causing problems on purpose.

We see that when Danny is in Poindexter's lair and body, he can only see through the mirror to the human realm when he's actively looking through it. This shows that Poindexter is very likely to not have seen Dash bullying Danny, and it's coincidence that he saw Danny's revenge.

To me, Poindexter is the most ghostly of the ghosts. He's stuck in the past, he had a tragic death, he haunts a specific location, and there's even an urban legend about him!

Splitting Images, and therefore Poindexter, is often hated for its bad forced moral. But The Ultimate Enemy also has a bad forced moral. At least Splitting Images plot has a Watsonian explanation in the form of Poindexter's personality and trauma being the thing driving the plot. Meanwhile, in The Ultimate Enemy, the plot is driven by burger sauce ex machina. I've seen many people who dislike Poindexter due to the forced moral of Splitting Images, but like Dark Danny despite the forced moral of The Ultimate Enemy.

To me, Dark Danny seems like a flat one-note villain. Despite the grief that caused his existence, he doesn't seem to care about the people he's lost, or about anything really, and merely focuses on destruction. He wants to recreate the events that caused him, yes, but what is his motivation for causing the apocalypse and destroying Ember's vocal cords and putting Johnny in a wheelchair before any of the time travel stuff happened?

Poindexter is much more nuanced in personality and has a sensible motivation for causing problems. (Not sensible as in it's a good idea, but it makes sense given his personality and trauma that we already know.)

I'm not saying people should dislike Dark Danny. But please, give Poindexter a chance. He isn't any worse written than the rest of the characters in this show. I brought up Dark Danny in comparison due to the fact both their episodes have dumb forced morals, but I could easily compare Poindexter's writing to many other characters as well. He's much more fleshed out than the majority of the ghosts. But this post is getting too long, so I won't.

[raayllum]

Seen some discussion on this and I think the big takeaway being "Rayla is taking Runaan's place here as the leader" is underselling it in some ways, tbh, since I think it's a lot more indicative of how S7 is going to challenge Rayla at her core of whether she's like Runaan, and what version(s) of Runaan that means.

Rayla has always had similarities to her father / mentor. Keeping secrets about her own harm, the emphasis on sacrifice, her view of herself as an assassin, goodbye kisses to their lovers, leaving people at home to protect them, her little silver pauldron that matches his, wielding his bow-blade in S5, and her ponytail hair clasp, etc etc. Some of the lessons she's learned from Runaan have been helpful, allowing her to protect herself and her friends; some of them have been less so.

I told you: I am already dead.

I've talked about this before but the bulk of the characters in TDP have a 'shadow self' for lack of a better term—a person in the narrative/history or in their family that they are struggling with whether to be like, if not actively striving against it (Janai with Queen Aditi, Ezran with Harrow, etc). However, it's a bit more complicated than that. As noted in previous metas, Callum's parallels to Viren have gone from being indicative of a mostly negative path (dark magic use to the point of corruption, Aaravos' manipulations, etc) to also indicating a positive path: breaking away from Aaravos and dark magic (5x09) and doing more heroic deeds (6x08) because you refuse to sacrifice the people around you. It's shifted from "Callum is like Viren" to "Callum is like both of Viren's arcs, bad and eventually good," as when he inevitably breaks away from Aaravos' hold, he will ultimately be paralleling his main foil in a positive way as well.

It's a similar matter for Rayla with Runaan, with the way Runaan parallels Viren being a fun bonus, down to being resurrected and deeply regretful of how they've treated their child(ren).

Is she going to be Runaan the assassin, who keeps their oaths/promises no matter what even if that means sacrificing everything they hold dear, including their family? Who believes that the mission is too far gone now for a detour, or to go off track entirely? The Runaan who put duty over love and tried to kill someone he loved, even if it ended up destroying himself, too?

Or is she going to be the Runaan who regrets doing so, who is lost but found through love, who is brought back and brings others back? Who carries Runaan's bravery and guidance but sheds the lesson of sacrifice at all cost, of yourself, of others? And instead is devoted to preserving life, rather than taking it?

CALLUM: Rayla's brave. She saves people. [...] Rayla is selfless, strong, and caring. That's what makes her a hero. That's what makes her Rayla.

As Runaan and Rayla have both had time to unlearn their previous mindsets and build upon new ones, I think they will continue to challenge each other to reject the duty > love mindset, and that they've had to embrace a healthier, more balanced view of love and sacrifice for themselves and its impact on others around them.

[winchesterwild78]

The Demon and Me pt 3

Master List 

Characters: Demon Dean x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, fluff

A/N: This chapter explores the reader’s thoughts on being pregnant and what that means for her. Sam is supportive and encourages her to think things through. Cas tells her to tell Dean about the baby. The reader is unsure if that will do any good. 

This chapter doesn’t follow the Supernatural story exactly. I took some liberties. I do not own the rights to any of these characters or any part that aligns with Supernatural. 

Written and edited fast, please overlook any errors. All work is my own, don’t take it. Feel free to like and reblog.

Minors DNI 18+

I laid in bed that night thinking about what I was going to do. My car was fixed, but Sam refused to leave my side. I wanted to still go to my sister’s house, but with Sam back and the recent revelation of my pregnancy I also wanted to go home. 

Waking up in the middle of the night I felt a wave of nausea hit me. At least now I know why I kept getting sick. After I was finished in the bathroom I made my way to the small refrigerator in the room. I glanced over at Sam who was sleeping soundly in the bed next to mine. I grabbed a bottle of water and a sleeve of crackers. I grabbed my phone and went outside for some fresh air. 

As I sat in the chair next to the door I heard the unmistakable sound of wings. I looked up and saw Cass. He stepped closer to me. “Hello,Y/N.” “Hey Cass. You were right, I’m pregnant.” “I already knew you were. I could smell.” Before he could finish the sentence you cut him off, “Yes Cass, I know. You could smell it and you knew because of mine and Dean’s destiny.” “Yes, exactly.” Cass said.

“Cass, how can I be sure he will come back to us? I don’t want to do this by myself, I can’t do this by myself.”

“Y/N, you have to believe Dean’s love for you will bring him back.” I sat in the chair just looking at Cass. I’m glad he was so confident, but my faith and confidence was wavering. 

I pulled out my phone and sent my sister a text to let her know I was going back home. I decided not to tell her about the pregnancy yet, because honestly I was still trying to come to terms with it. 

“Y/N, would you like me to tell you what you’re having?” “What? You know what the baby is, Cass?” “Yes, I do.” 

I took a deep breath. Did I want to know? “Cass, I’m not ready to know yet. Can you at least just tell me if the baby is healthy?” 

Cass stepped closer and put his hand on my shoulder, “Yes. The baby is healthy and growing stronger every day. You’re almost 3 months pregnant.” 

I touched my belly and my heart sped up. I need Dean here. I can’t do this without him. “What do I need to do to get him back, Cass?” “We need to cure him. It won’t be easy, but I know we can do it.” 

“He has to want to be cured in order for it to work. We have to find him first.” Tears fell from my eyes. “Then he’s never coming home. Being a demon frees him of all the guilt he’s felt over the years.” I touched my belly and cried harder, “He’s never coming home.” 

I got up and went back into the room. Sam was awake by now and he saw I had been crying. He walked over and pulled me into a bear hug. “Shh, it’s okay. We will get him back.” 

“Sammy, let’s just go home. There isn’t any sense in trying to find him. Cass said in order for him to be cured he has to want it. I just want to go home and figure out how to raise this baby alone.” 

A few hours later I was sitting on my bed in the bunker. This room, this bed, where Dean and I shared so much was now a painful reminder of what I’ve lost. I laid down on Dean’s side of the bed and cried. I had never felt so alone in my life. The love of my life, my soulmate was gone and I was left carrying our child. The child we both wanted together. Now Dean was a demon, and I was heartbroken.

Over the next few months my belly continued to grow, showing evidence of the little life growing inside. Sam and Eileen were supportive, Cass would come by and check on us. I hadn’t heard from Dean since that night in the motel. 

Sam and Eileen were away on a hunt, leaving me alone. I was now 7 months pregnant, and it had been over 5 months since I last saw Dean. I tried to call, but his phone was off. Cass couldn’t sense him, and Crowley never gave me any answers when I summoned him. 

When Crowley saw I kept the baby he became enraged. “Stay away from Dean!” He shouted at me after my last summoning. I was desperate for Dean to come home, to know I was having his baby, our baby. “Crowley, I haven’t seen him in 5 months. He has a right to know about his baby. Please, send him home.” I begged as the tears fell. 

Crowley stepped closer, smirking. “Oh love, you think he’s going to come home and give you what you want? He loves being a demon, more than he loves you.” My heart broke, my voice barely a whisper, “I don’t believe you, Dean has and will always love me.” Crowley grabbed my chin, whipped the tears away, “You know there is one way you can be with him.” 

My eyes went wide and my heart beat wildly in my chest, “How?” “Make a deal with me, become a demon and you and Dean can be together forever.” “All it will cost me is my soul, right?” “No, his soul.” Crowley pointed to my belly. “Are you insane?! I’m not giving you my son’s soul.” “Well then I guess you won't have Dean back.” 

“No! Just leave Crowley. I refuse to give you my baby’s soul.” “Then so be it.” Crowley was gone.

Crowley returned to the bar he left Dean at. Dean was busy working his magic on the latest woman to throw herself at him. Dean looked up and saw Crowley was back. “Where did you go?” Dean asked over his whiskey glass. “Just handling some business.” 

Dean stepped closer to Crowley, “What’s that smell? Why do I smell Y/N on you?” Dean’s eyes flashed black. 

“She summoned me, trying to get me to bring you home. I offered her a deal, but she turned it down. See, Dean. She doesn’t love you. She wouldn’t close the deal to be with you again.” 

“Where is she? You didn’t hurt her did you?” Dean growled. “Why do you care? You don’t want her anymore. You’re free to be with her.” Crowley motioned to the blonde at the end of the bar. 

Dean stood and growled. “Fuck this!” Then he was gone. 

I was asleep on the bed when I heard the bunker door slam shut. It startled me awake. I heard the sound of boots on the iron staircase and the sound was familiar to me. 

I sat up and held my belly. Jumping out of bed I flung open the door and came face to face with Dean. I gasped softly, “Dean?! What are you doing here?” 

Dean smirked as his eyes raked over my form. His eyes went wide when his gaze found my belly. “What is this?” He pointed at my belly. 

My words caught in my throat, “Our son.” I whispered out. He stepped closer to me and inhaled. It sent a shiver down my spine. 

“That’s why you tasted and smelled so good. You were pregnant.” His eyes flashed black and I realized how close he was to me, to my son. 

He gripped my chin, “You’ve been keeping this from me for months? You’ve kept my son from me?!” 

I tried to pull away, tears streamed down my face. His grip was tight and it hurt. “Dean, please let me go. You’re hurting me.” 

His eyes went back to his beautiful green color. A hint of sadness and regret in them. His hand dropped and he touched my belly. 

Our son kicked and Dean’s eyes met mine. “Y/N, please come with me.” “Dean, I can’t. Our son deserves better than living with demons. Crowley wanted his soul, Dean. What the hell do you think he’d do if I went with you. I have to protect him. He’s the best part of you and me.” 

“I want both of you! You will come with me.” “No I won’t, Dean!” I slid past him and ran. My heart is pounding in my ears. 

Dean walked behind me. I ran through the halls of the bunker. I hid and sent Sam a text asking for help. 

Me: Sam. Dean’s here. Help!

Sam: On my way! Just hide 

I hid, terrified of what was going to happen if he found me. 

The lights suddenly went out and the emergency lights came on, casting a red glow in the darkness. 

I heard Dean’s heavy boots in the hallway and his voice calling me, “Come on sweetheart, come with me. You can’t hide from me forever.”

I heard the sound of the bunker door and Dean growled. “Sammmmy, I know you’re home.” Dean sang through the hallway. 

“Dean, leave her alone, please. She’s pregnant.” I heard Sammy plead. Then I heard a loud bang. It echoed through the bunker and caused me to jump. 

I heard it again, then again, and it was closer. “Sweetheart, come out, come out wherever you are.” 

Cass appeared next to me. He placed his hand on my shoulder, “It’s time, Y/N. You have to be strong. It’s the only thing that can save him.” 

Tears fell as I stood. I took a deep breath and came out of hiding. As I turned the corner I saw Dean standing in the middle of the hallway, bathed in the red glow of the emergency lights, holding a bat. 

“Dean, please. Please fight this. Come back to me, and him. We need you baby.” 

Dean’s smirk spread across his face and his lips curled. Sending a shiver down my spine. “Oh sweetheart, it’s sweet how you think I want to be cured.” 

He stepped closer, inches from my face. My chest rising and falling as my breath quickened. His lips ghosted mine, “Dean, please.” As I begged him to fight, Cass came up behind him and subdued him. Sam put the demon cuffs on him and I backed away.

“You bitch! You’ll pay for that, you and your bastard baby.” Dean hissed. Cass and Sam took Dean to a locked room in the bunker. He was placed in the center of a devil’s trap and the demon cuffs were to help hold him in place. I couldn’t help but break down.

Sam and Cass started to inject Dean with blessed blood in order to cure him. I stood outside the door, listening to his screams and growls as his body fought to rid itself of the demon within. My heart and soul ached for Dean. 

I placed a hand on my belly, trying to steady my nerves. “Your daddy is going to come back to us, baby. He’s strong and you are so wanted.” The screams in the room stopped, and Sam and Cass came out, locking the door behind them.

I looked up at Sam. He looked exhausted, “Is he okay?” I asked in a soft voice. “I hope so, he passed out. He’s breathing, so he’s okay.” Sam touched my shoulder, “He’s going to be okay, Y/N. Dean is stronger than you think.” I just nodded. “Come on, you need to get off your feet. All this isn’t good for the baby.” Sam said as he guided me back to my room. 

Sam told me to rest and he would cook something for all of us to eat. I laid down on the bed and before I knew it I was asleep. There was a light knock on my door. When I looked up it was Sam with some food. “Thanks Sammy.” I said with a gentle smile. He nodded and left the room.

I ate the food and carried my dishes into the kitchen.

Curiosity got the better of me, I tiptoed to the door to the room where Dean was being held. I put my ear to the door and couldn’t hear anything. I listened harder, I heard whispers. “Y/N, please help me. I’m so thirsty. Please baby.” 

My heart ached for him. I crept to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water and returned to the room. Pushing open the door my heart pounded in my chest. Dean’s bloodshot, green eyes met mine, “Hey sweetheart.” He said weakly. 

“Dean? Is that really you?” I asked with a tinge of sadness and surprise in my voice. “Yeah, it’s me.”

Without another thought I ran to his side. Removing the handcuffs I handed him the water. He drank the water in one gulp. His eyes met mine and he stood. I looked up at him and he looked down at me. His eyes trailed from mine to my growing belly.

Dean’s hand lightly brushed my belly. I placed my hand on his. I collapsed in his arms, “Oh Dean! I’ve missed you so much.” His grip on me tightened. From behind me I heard the sound of running. As I turned to look, Dean grabbed me, spun me around and held my back against his chest. I felt his hand around my throat. 

Sam and Cass appeared at the door. I was so confused, trying to get out of his grip, he held me tighter. As I looked up at him his eyes were black again. “Dean, let her go!” Sam yelled as he came into the room. “No! I don’t think I will. Did you really think you could cure me? Ha! I’m stronger than that.” Dean’s grip around my throat tightened and I was starting to feel myself slipping in and out of consciousness. 

Cass appeared behind Dean and put his arms around him. Dean’s grip on me loosened enough for me to get away. I dropped to the ground. 

Dean let out a bone chilling growl. His voice is a mixture of his and a demonic sound. His eyes flashed black as Sam lunged and injected him again with more blood. I sat on the floor looking on in horror. Cass’ grip on Dean tight and unwavering. 

Then without warning Dean became quiet and the room was still. Sam opened the flask of holy water and splashed it on Dean. There was no reaction. 

Dean’s eyes opened and the soulless black was replaced by his beautiful green eyes. His eyes met mine and when Cass let him go he dropped to his knees and cradled me in his arms. 

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for all of this. I could have killed you.” I sobbed in his arms. Dean, my Dean was back. I lifted my tear stained face and looked at him, “Dean, you came back to me, to us.” 

I placed a hand on my belly. Dean’s eyes taking in my swollen belly. “Is this really happening?” Dean asked as he touched my belly. “Yes, Dean. We are having a little boy.” Dean cupped my face and placed a soft kiss on my lips. “I love you so much, sweetheart. Thank you for not giving up on me. For helping me come back to both of you.” 

I touched his cheek, “I’ll never give up on you, Dean. You deserve someone to fight for you.”

Dean stood up and helped me off the floor. He walked over to Cass and then Sam, giving them both a hug and thanking them for bringing him back. Sam was glad to have his brother back.

Cass was glad to have his friend back. 

That night Dean and I laid in each other’s arms talking about the future and our little boy. I could tell he felt a tremendous amount of guilt about not being there for me during the majority of the pregnancy. I laid in his arms, leaned up on my elbow and lightly touched his face, “Dean, I wasn’t alone. I had Sam and Cass. I don’t blame you for not being here. I blame that mark on your arm, and Crowley. He knew I was pregnant and told me to stay away from you. Then he tried to get me to give him our son’s soul to bring you back to me. As much as I love you, I couldn’t do it. I knew you’d never forgive me, and I’d never forgive myself.” 

Dean kissed me softly, “I’m glad you didn’t. I know it was hard not having me here. I promise I won’t leave your side again. I love you, Y/N.” “I love you too, Dean. I’m so glad you’re back.” I kissed Dean’s lips softly then laid my head on his chest. He held me tight as I laid on my side, curled up next to him. Our son’s soft kicks made him smile each time he felt them. 

As Dean drifted off to sleep he looked down at you in his arms, and your swollen belly and he felt an overwhelming sense of love and the need to protect both you and your son. He didn’t know what he did to deserve you, but he planned on spending the rest of his life being the man you both deserved.

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[aimbutmiss]

I feel like Roger loved both Buggy and Shanks equally, it’s just that he REALLY saw himself in Shanks and less so in Buggy, which made Buggy feel like the less loved child, just because he didn’t quite have the same “Oh wow we are just immediately on the same wavelength” like these two

If you asked Roger though he would have spoken about both of them with equal pride. He may see himself in Shanks but Buggy is … Buggy is just his own entire thing and sometimes Roger is kind of stupefied at this young pirate just putting so much into showmanship and being FLASHY and by god this is a greedy little shit but that just means he is just always going after something.And once he gets it he’s gonna show it off in the flashiest way possible that’s just so infectiously joyful to witness. Also- bombs?! Who taught him that?! Rayleigh did you teach him that? He didn’t teach him that! How’d that boy get so crafty! Hey guys check it out Buggy made a BOMB! Haha, hey may never know quite what’s going on with this brat but what a lad! His little firecracker…

Buggy wasn’t unloved but he was a massive causality of Shanks “chosen one” status (another one of these is Shanks himself imo but that’s getting into theory corner), because in his eyes that didn’t leave him to be anything else.

Yessss I do agree that Roger didn't really have a favourite, just different approaches to the kids. If there was any favouritism it would be unintentional, like I've said before. Because I really don't think Roger was that type of man. He loved those kids, they were basically like his sons.

I also agree that he saw himself in Shanks. And he saw something completely different in Buggy. Not just in the way that he was different from himself and Shanks, but he was different from everyone. Roger has never met someone like Buggy before and that fascinated him. This little kid was so... flashy, as he put in his own terms. And he was a go-getter. Roger was convinced that kid had the potential to flip the world upside down if it would get him what he wanted. And there's something so refreshing about that kind of unending determination. The only thing that stood in the way of that was his inferiority complex. And oh did Roger try to make it better. He tried his best to treat him and Shanks equally. Always told them both they could do anything they put their mind to, and that he loved and cared for them deeply. But it just didn't seem to penetrate through Buggy's thick skull. Him giving his hat to Shanks did NOT help. I think that small action was truly the catalyst for the "chosen one" complex you talked about. I mean the effects of it are still very much present, with Luffy and all...

I don't think Buggy was really a casualty in Shanks and his "chosen one" status (at least not as big of a casualty as Shanks himself) because he didn't let himself get stuck because of it, like Shanks did. He knew he couldn't reach his full potential in his friend's shadow, so he left. He started a new life because he refused to be stagnant. And he had a goal, a dream, that did not match what Shanks wanted. So of course he left, because Buggy always goes after what he wants. He chose to go forward, but Shanks stayed there. He could not move forward. He was destined to be forever that little boy on Oro Jackson, the pirate king's chosen one, and that teen Buggy left in Loguetown. (Taylor Swift - Right where you left me, literally)

On a lighter note... those damn bombs!!! Who taught him???? Literally no one. I'm convinced he just threw shit together. And honestly, Buggy is very smart. He figured how things work very quickly at a young age, and he was always good with his hands. It's another thing Roger always felt proud about him. "His little firecracker..." Anon shut up right now I will cry 😭😭 that's so cute

Thank you for this!! Sorry for replying late, I knew I was gonna write something long so I wanted to do it when I had the time

[redrobinsrobbingrobin]

Here is the aforementioned essay! I said I’d get it done (and my notes were pretty detailed anyway)

Dick's robin is representative of the distinction of youth culture coming to light as more kids distanced themselves from the conservative views and began questioning authority figures, during the 40s, when they questioned the actual effects and causes of war, questioned the authority behind it and the reason for not intervening earlier. Batman as a character was also introduced in this period, and is a call for social change. He is a billionaire who wants to help the lower class. He empathises with the people, he sympathises with the child that lost his parents in front of him, and death is a driving factor in both their lives. To me, this seems like a homage to the families who lot their children, their fathers, their brothers, to the war, and wanted to do and be better, to live their memory and be able to push through and help the world. Dick also puts McCarthyism into question, as he doesn't exactly obey Batman all the time, despite needing to. He questions Batman, he questions Bruce, he is rebellious and harsh, and angry, and maybe that's how he would have turned out, even without Bruce giving him a cape and weapons.he represents the beginnings of change, the start of hope after a war, the ability to raise yourself and your family above that.

Jason's post crisis character when referring to youth of the time is much like Tim's and Dick's. This was a period after wartime economy, where the majority of the population were people who couldn't fight in the war, where communism was a genuine fear, and his whole story line of 'crime alley, poor orphan, adopted by a billionaire,' pulls both capitalism and communism into question- why is there a billionaire when the people are suffering, and capitalism CAN help the few lucky enough to receive that help. In terms of youth attitudes, he came from a time of youth rebellion, evident in his later comics, where he pulled away from Batman which lead to his eventual death. He took more risks, he had an edge over Dick I terms of his street brawler style instead of Dick's grace in acrobatics. The older generations saw this rebellion of youth as off putting, and often refused to hire younger generations due to their more leftist views, and a perceived notion of them being radical and troublemakers. This stigma till exists today and is still evident in later Robin runs.

Tim’s characterisation as a representation if the youth is the most prominent to a modern audience, though, because he is representative of teens in the 90s/very early 2000s and they were attempting to get more teens into comics without it being seen as nerdy, however, this push for more youth diversity in comics prompted a huge shift in youth culture, where comics were now being seen as old people stuff and ‘nerd culture’ up until televised media (TV/movies) started adapting it to exclusively appeal to nerd audiences who didn’t want to watch new media, as it might mean letting go of old media. Televised adaptations also brought in new fans who could understand storylines visually and in a more efficient way than reading several decades worth of back reading comics could. Tim was a skateboarder and a photographer, and these pictures and excessive stalking of Batman and Robin could almost be seen as a teenage girl in the 90s having posters of her celebrity crush all over the walls. He also slept A LOT, which might be the writers trying to represent the youth as lazy in order to keep older readers and avoid being seen as 'pandering' to the youth.

Coincidentally, Steph was also introduced as a Robin during this period of the early 2000s which meant that DC were trying to ensure that women were being represented more in traditionally male media in order for the women’s equality movements to also be appealed to. She, as a character, does not fit into any stereotypical female character archetype (nosy reporter, damsel on distress, femme fatale) and is so evidently an individual of her own, without simply being a part of someone else’s character, like Tim’s. This shift in views towards women in comics was probably what stopped more comics from ‘fridging’ their female characters in order to elevate a male character’s story, even though Steph and Barbara were both pretty badly portrayed at the end of their individual runs (Killing Joke and No Man's Land, and Steph's baby). Her introduction as a Robin, 'the Girl Wonder' was so that Batman comics would appeal to more women, specifically, women who were actively less conservative and more likely to get into traditionally male medias, as many women in the 2000s were stepping out of conservative roles, and more were engaging in these 'nerdy' interests.

Damian’s introduction in a post 9/11 world, where the vilification of the LoA had reached a high and probably contributed to the extreme whitewashing of his character, sometimes seen in the DCAU, or even a lot in comics. He seems to feel ostracised by the rest of the family, because of his upbringing, the same way many Arabs and other ethnic minorities felt at this time. Damian being white passing also meant that he perhaps reflected the Arab youth in America who were not so outwardly ostracised by their peers due to the racial and religious tensions in the country. He was also introduced in or around 2006 (I can’t remember the exact date) where the youth were, again, largely viewed as rebellious or hooligans, which is NOT reflected in his character, not that I can think of any examples.

Anyway. That’s it for the essay, let me know if I missed something, or got something wrong, and thank you for reading till the end!