#he is my son. my baby boy. my absolute disaster child

[aecho-again]

😭😨🌙🌋🙈 ☄️💓💚 for Helios, let's go! (that's a lot, haha, no pressure to do everything tho!)

Yeees, I love talking about my sad son, let's gooo!

😭 CRYING - what makes them cry? do they cry easily?

Despite being an emotional wreck he doesn't cry easily, no. When his brother died, he experienced crippling grief and cried enough to last him a lifetime.

😨 FEARFUL - when scared, do they go into "flight" or "fight"?

His first instinct is to go into "flight" mode because he is not a good fighter but he was originally built for protection purposes so his programming switches to "fight" the moment he sees someone else in danger.

🌙 MOON - what is your oc's greatest wish? how far are they willing to go for it?

His greatest wish is to bring back his brother and he is willing to anything to succeed. I have an AU for the Brave version of his story where he sacrifices his life after they defeat the main villain to revive his brother... which leaves his friends mourning for him, but at least his brother is alive. Holy ship I should really give this guy a name, he's been just "the brother" for over a year now.

🌋 VOLCANO - how bad is their temper? is it a slow boil, or a instant explosion?

Helios has no temper :-)

Nah, all his negative emotions pile up inside him while he stays silent and suppresses them as good as he can. Every single time someone complains about him, calls him names, criticizes him, etc. he only shows his guilt, apologizes profoundly and tries to right what's wrong - with mixed results. It keeps gnawing at him from the inside, but it never shows. Not once. It takes Nightjet months of spying and investigation to get a good read on what is going on inside Helios' processor when things don't go his way or someone angers him.

🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

He wants to keep his true self hidden - all those doubts and worries, defeats and failures - everything that makes him who he is, but he fails at it, just like he fails at almost everything. Wearing a mask is equally hard and others notice that he's faking it. To them, Helios appears uncanny. His toxic, forced positivity is what drives them away and also the reason why he's all alone in the first place. His brother didn't care about him, neither did anyone else... until Nightjet and Ironwing came along and were like, "Yeah, I wanna befriend this weird little guy" :-D

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

At first they assume he's just a drone. A servant that is also the shadow of his great, wonderful brother who can do no wrong and who everyone adores - Helios included. He accepts his role as the living battery of his brother who has a weak spark he needs to support with his own and while their boss is blackmailing him to work for them, he also comes to terms that he is nothing but a glorified tool they can use and discard as they wish. So, yeah, he acts like an unfeeling drone during the early stages of his life, but he is not one.

They also think he has been possessed by a vile spirit because of his ability to deny hardships and always stay positive when other people are around. That's not true.

💓 BEATING HEART - what gets their heart racing?

It always feels like a miracle when someone offers to listen to his nonsensical ramblings. Unfortunately for him, no one was willing to do that until he joined Railjet's crew and they warmed up to him. He harbors four million years of internal monologues about topics no one wanted to talk to him about - this has also made him incapable of talking about his opinions or interests because he believes they are boring.

💚 GREEN HEART - what things make your oc feel comforted? hugs, kisses, food

Hugs! Helios looooves hugs! He never got hugged enough so he's always open for some good ole cuddles. Though he won't object a few kisses along the way too. And because he is an insomniac, he barely gets a good night's rest before he is woken by nightmares. But having someone hold him during recharge keeps them away. Whenever he is distressed, physical contact helps.

[smilesthroughfandoms]

Ranking The Brotherhood on how good with kids I think they are.

(Listen my homework is depressing me and I want a break so here we go)

No. 1: Demon Bull King: Listen it’s not just because he’s a Dad™️ ok! You cannot convince me otherwise that he didn’t spoil the ever loving heck outta Red Son as a baby. He loved that little boy and would not hesitate to slaughter anyone who dared even looked at his son the wrong way. Sure, nowadays he has a few missteps but the love and care is still present. He’s not perfect but he’s the best of them all. 9/10—He stumbles a bit but he means well.

No. 2: Six-Eared Macaque: He’s the Go-To Babysitter and the Designated Driver™️ of the Brotherhood. He will care for any child if he needs to. Sure he might just feed them junk food or frozen stuff but hey, that’s better than nothing. He’s the Fun Uncle and kids just flock to him. 8/10—He tells really great bedtime stories too.

No. 3: Yellow-Tusk the Wise: He’s the standard. He’ll make sure the kids are fed, clean, and content but his idea of a “fun, engaging activity” is reading the Dictionary and discovering new words or something. If you need a babysitter fast he’s your reluctant go-to. 6/10—The kids will be asleep when you get home on account of how boring he was!

No. 4: Azure Lion: He’s not that great with young kids but the older they get the easier it is for him. He can talk to them more easily. He will not know what to do with a baby. He will hold it at arms length and just be terrified out of his mind. But he will also try to speak all “hip” to the older kids and fail spectacularly. 5.5/10—He definitely pronounces Meme as Me-Me.

No. 5: Golden-Winged Peng: I know in the OG Journey to the West they have a nephew—but would you let them around your nephew? They laughs anytime the kid falls over and has insulted several children to their faces. And that’s the easy stuff. 3/10—They May or May Not have dropped a kid once and it May or May Not have been an accident.

No. 6: Sun Wukong: What is wrong with you?! You trust this absolute disaster of an immortal with your children?! Do you hate your children or something? He’s never known illness or the true concept of death so what’s he going to do. He won’t actively try and kill the kid but man he doesn’t have to he’s that bad. 1/10—The other Monkeys on FFM are alive today because of pure instinct and little to no input from this monkey and no one can convince me otherwise.

[lynxindisguise]

CHAOS TIME Sirius accidentally knocks up Remus RIGHT before they break up and Remus doesn't realize it until he's been dating Crowley for a bit. Sirius and Aziraphale run into them at some point when Remus is much further along and Sirius is FURIOUS he let his new boyfriend knock him up immediately while Aziraphale is FURIOUS Crowley would have a baby with a HUMAN and someone who is NOT HIM anyway Teddy has the most confusing toddlerhood haha.

oh my god that would be such a disaster!! does remus know it's sirius's, or does he think he's birthing a new antichrist?? he's preparing for the baby to come out all snakey, and out pops baby teddy with black hair and grey eyes. remus is sobbing and clutching his beautiful baby boy. crowley is a weird mix of disappointed and relieved. sirius is shocked and trying to be furious but LOOK AT HIS SON. HIS AND REMUS'S SON 😭 aziraphale makes a comment about them not having to deal with the paperwork, but thank god crowley did not have a child with this pathetic human.

but crowley and remus were the ones who prepared for a baby (badly. so so badly. remus tried but he was very sick the whole time, and crowley has absolutely no idea how babies work). and they're still technically together, so it becomes this disastrous joint-custody situation until remus and sirius finally get back together, but now crowley has become so very fond of teddy, so he gets to be his godfather (he finds this title hilarious) / cool uncle who visits all the time, and aziraphale is so very exhausted by all of it.

[red-talisman]

Okay jc is the baby of the family, but not really. Nhs and lwj have really spoiled baby brothers attitude, but jc has an elder brother complex in my opinion and this makes me insane. I don't know if it's because he is the sect heir or because of his family dynamics. But these are my thoughts, yours?

With the understanding that I can only speak to CQL (the novel wasn't to my taste, personally, so I didn't get far in it) I am FASCINATED by your idea because I have a very different interpretation of my own!

For context, I lack the relevant cultural elements, so I don't think I can comment knowledgeably on some things? But I, who has some very similar personality traits to JC, am the youngest of 4 in a family dynamic that's similar enough to the Jiangs that, more than once, I had to pause CQL and touch some grass outside. 😅

Personally, I read JC as the Quintessential Youngest Child (TM) in the sense that, like:

He kinda takes his older siblings' support for granted, which is a) common for younger siblings, who have never known life without siblings, and b) JC's strongest and most immediate form of emotional support (since he probably can't/won't connect much with the other disciples and his relationships with his parents are rather fraught). It also means that where he might be more suspicious of other people, he often doesn't even question his own siblings (read: WWX) even when faced with evidence that maybe he should. It's a specific kind of naivete that I expect to see more often from younger siblings who have internalized an "us vs. the world" kind of dynamic.

Which also means that we youngest sibs can be ABSOLUTE DISASTERS when we lose that support, or think we've lost it. (JC being a little bitch during Lan indoctrination was a mirror of me when one of my older sisters started dating boys, how dare she have a life of her own that didn't involve me in every aspect!!! Clearly this means I have to be a passive-aggressive bitch about it!!!!!)

The jealousy, born from insecurity, of seeing older siblings be more liked/talented/etc than you, which you're too young to understand is the result of differences in age and maturity with the accompanying personal growth. No, it's clearly because You Suck.

....and then compound that inferiority complex with the pressure of being The Heir. In my family, I was the child of both parents while my siblings are half-sibs via my father; my mother was not unlike Yu Ziyuan in terms of her Expectations For Me, but my Jiang Fengmian-esque father favored his eldest son. So you push yourself to overachievement and hold yourself to an impossible standard to Prove You Matter As A Person. But JC, who is an accomplished cultivator in his own right (e.g. he developed his golden core a year early!), is in the shadow of a brother who's a legit genius, so what efforts might have 'worked' in other families won't work here. ('Worked' is in scare quotes because this isn't a healthy perspective to have, obvs.)

And when you're the baby sib, you're never not the baby sib, and damn but this can give you such a complex lmao. I don't know how many times I've had to remind my siblings and surviving parent that I'm an adult, I've been an adult for a long time actually, I'm allowed to make decisions about my own life, and I am in fact capable of saying Grown Up Things. It's infuriating! But when you get angry about it, it's just a sign of your immaturity! So then you're labeled as too sensitive, too reactionary, can't you just calm down... Look, at the risk of self-projecting too much, I'm just gonna say that I don't always like JC or agree with his decisions, but holy shit does his character land on some real personal places for me lol. ANYWAY, WWX's refusal to tell JC about the golden core exchange sounds to me, as a baby sib who clearly overidentifies with JC, like, "I don't trust you to make the right decision for yourself, so I have to do it for you, even though we've survived enough things by now for you to have proved yourself an adult capable of making your own choices." But the golden core thing is enough of A Thing to unpack that I'm just gonna leave it there with the clarification that this isn't actually meant to be a value judgment on WWX's action either way.

Also, 'mixed households' in regards to children who are adopted vs. blood-related can have some super complicated emotional dynamics, but this point starts getting into some cultural stuff that I don't feel I understand well enough to try digging into, especially with how horribly messy Anglophone fandom has been regarding the nature of WWX's place within the Jiang family.

SO YEAH ANON that's kinda the main points of my take on why JC Is Family Baby Whether He Likes It Or Not and some of why WWX Has Permanent Big Brother Disease lmao. I try to stay grounded in what I think I see actually on the screen and how it impacts the characters, but of course it's inevitably informed by my own experiences, for better or worse.

But that doesn't mean your take isn't just as valid or maybe is even based on the same points, I could totally see that happening depending on what you mean by 'elder brother complex.' ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ

[spiritsword-with-a-hat]

...the kitchenette and fix yourself a coffee. Pinch of self-care & ...panic, because you apparently have a child and you've remembered by accident?

You make your way over the papers to the kitchenette. It is faring better than the office by the virtue of containing less, but it is far from being tidy. It has been rather neatly organized and scrubbed clean, but that was before a mysterious force opened all the cabinets and cupboards and spilled or at least toppled their contents and then sprinkled the room with a layer of plaster dust.

It's a small room. In theory it could serve for very basic cooking, such as stir fry or soup, but practically everyone in the office brings their own food from home and heat it up either on the mostly cooperating stove top (that's the bad option) or in the microwave (that's the worse option). Or they eat out. Or they skip lunch altogether. You've settled on the rule that no takeout food is to be present in the office building, because honestly, the smell of it seeps into walls and carpets, and you are not really fond of that.

You grab and fill the electric kettle and put it to boil. It's going to take a couple of minutes, so from the cupboard you take a mug (fortunately none has broken) and get everything ready to make yourself a pour-over. No, this place does not have a coffee machine, and even if it did, it wouldn't help at all: you wouldn't know how to operate that thing.

While you are waiting for the water to boil, you make your way to the washroom. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror: the left half of your face is covered in blood, some even dripped down on your shirt. You look like you haven't slept in ages. And to be completely honest, while a series of hot meals wouldn't fix everything, it would help a lot.

You decide to fix at least the blood-on-the-face thing. The cold water on your face eels absolutely divine and it helps to clear out some of the fog in your head. You wet a towel and press it on the back of your head, finally feeling the headache subside a little.

Then it hits you in full force: You have a son. You are responsible for the well-being of a whole person, one that is not you, one that trusts you to make the correct and good decisions. You can't make correct or good decisions, you are five feet nine inches of a disaster that can't even dispose of non-functional washing machines!

It means you have a family. A partner to help you take care of Miles? You rake your memories for anything, but you don't find a recent face that's been in your apartment besides you and the boy. (Oh god, he is 9. He is a little baby!) So, a single father. You are pretty sure that you have no idea what you are doing with your life, and the only reason little Miles Edgeworth hasn't called you out on it is because he doesn't know any better. What would have happened of him if you haven't just remembered? You are pretty sure that there isn't any other relative who could or would be willing to care for him.

That is a little dreary, but certainly a motivating reason not to get into any troubles that would render you unable to take care of your son.

[My son] added to Thoughts. From now on he'll be always on your mind.

You are brought back from the spiral of responsibility-induced terror by the courtesy of the electric kettle angrily whistling. You exit the washroom and finish preparing the coffee. You sip it as soon as it is ready and as a token of gratitude for your eagerness it scalds your tongue.

(A whole child! As opposed to, uh, half a child? You wouldn't know how to care for half of a child either.)

[lily-drake]

De-Aged

Jason: holy shit- she's so tiny!

Dick: *agitated* Jason, focus, what do we do??

Jason: *coos at the baby Marinette* I haven't seen her this small in forever.

Dick: we need- Jason! Focus! what do we do???

Jason: *shrugs* wait it out? I don't know.

Inspired by @bambicambi

Annoyance coursed through Marinette’s veins as she saw the new Akuma of the day.  Of course it happened when her family came to visit.  Looking up to the sky and praying for strength she turned her back to the chaos, something she would soon regret.  Her brothers were asking her what the heck was going on, and as she opened her mouth a baby pink ray of light hit her, and Marinette poofed and in her place sat 4-year-old Marinette Wayne.

Jason and Dick stared at the small child on the ground in shock and after the moments were over Jason eagerly picked her up and spun her around.

“Holy sh*!  She’s so tiny!”

Jason called out as he held the small giggling girl to his chest.  Dick, was rightfully frustrated and walking in small circles and quickly said,

“Jason, focus, what do we do?”

Upon hearing Jason making cooing noises, he swiftly turned to look at Jason.

“I haven’t seen her this small in forever!”

He exclaimed, nuzzling his nose against the small Marinette.

“We need-Jason!  Focus!  What do we do?”

Jason shrugged as he held Marinette against his hip.  She giggled and tugged at his jacket.

“Wait it out?  I don’t know.”

Dick opened her mouth, but stopped when Marinette began to speak.

“Jay-Jay!  Ride!  Ride!”

Jason’s grin grew and gently set her down while holding her hand.  He squared down and carefully released her hand.  He could not express the pure amount of joy he felt when she climbed onto his back and wrapped her tiny hands around his neck.

“Jason, have you just forgotten the weirdly dressed flying child that not only turned Marinette, but all of Paris into kids?!”

He…had forgotten.  But can you blame him?  Marinette was so tiny when she was a kid, and he hadn’t seen her like this in forever.

“Look, contact Zatanna while I keep her safe and distracted.”

Dick sighed in relief replying,

“Alri-wait a minute.”

Jason was already running with a giddily screaming Marinette.

“No fair, I want to cuddle my baby sister too!”

He sighed in frustration, and no he was not pouting.  Quickly pulling out his communicator he dialed Zatanna.

“Hello?”

“Hey, so I’m in Paris visiting some family, and this flying kid in really weird clothes is going around de-aging people.  Could you come see what’s going on please?”

“Pardon, but what?”

“Yea, it sho-“

Dick quickly ran through the streets dodging beams that were now directed towards him.  Why did stuff like this always happen when they traveled?

A few moments later a portal opened and he had never been more relieved to see Zatanna in his life.  Zatanna looked around and looked at the villain.  As she studied it and was about to jump in, a neon butterfly mask appeared over the child’s face and she realized what this was.

“I can’t do anything, sorry Dick.”

“What?!  Why?!”

“This is ancient magic, probably the most ancient magic in the universe.  There should be others…, see,”

She said pointing to a cat-like figure in the distance.  Dick stared in confusion, what was happening?

While Dick was trying to figure everything out Jason was having the time of his life with Tiny Mari.  He was especially thankful that when she was blasted that her clothes were transformed into a white t-shirt and overalls with lions stitched throughout them.  He had taken so many pictures of them.  We’re people running around everywhere scared, yes, yes they were.  But that didn’t stop him from enjoying as much time as he could with his tiny sister like he used to.

“Jay-Jay!  There’s a fairy in my pocket!”

“How is there a fairy in the Pixie’s pocket?”

He asked jokingly while swinging the hands back and forth!

“Lookin lookie!  It’s a Ladybug fairy!  She’s so pwetty.”

Marinette held Tikki in both of her hands and jumped up and down trying to get him to look.  Jason chuckled and looked down at the toy.  It was cute, he had never seen something like it before.  Then it blinked, and flew out of Marinette’s hand, and oh gosh, IT CAN TALK?!

“Marinette, you need to help Chat Noir defeat the akuma?”

“Akuma matata!”

Marinette called out with a giggle.  Jason would have laughed, if it weren’t for the flying bug thing talking to his sister, who was currently 4, telling her to help someone defeat the crazed villain.

“Woah!  Are you insane?!  Look at her?!  How do you expect her to fight?!”

The thing looked conflicted before sighing and saying,

“Well, do you want to fight it?  You just need to wear the earrings, I can run you through what you need to do!”

“No!”

Marinette screamed.

“I want to be like you and daddy!  It’s my turn to help people!”

“Marinette, you're too young.”

Tears began to well up in the small child’s eyes.

“I-it’s no fair!  You al-always say that!  I want to help!”

She finished stamping her foot definitely with a sharp glare.  Jason sighed in exhaustion and turned to the floating creature.  He mumbles under his breath,

“Can’t believe I’m letting this happen.”

He knew by the way Marinette was gripping at her ears and the definence in her stance.  He could easily take them by force, but he didn’t want to hurt her or make her angry and feel betrayed.

“Can you assure above all else that she will be completely and utterly safe.  I will join as well in my hero suit to make absolutely sure.”

“Yes, she has a partner as well who will watch out for her.”

He sighed in relief at that, but there was a new and very heavy weight on his chest that wouldn’t leave until this event was over.  He listened to the fairy tell Marinette what she needed to do and almost smiled at the determined face she was making.  Her cheeks were so chubby and-no, focus!  He pulled out an extra domino mask he always carried with him and zipped up his leather jacket.  When he turned around there was a burst of pink light and where Tiny Mari once stood stood his sister in the cutest outfit he had ever seen!  It was similar to his old Robin outfit, but closer to Tim’s as she thankfully felt that there needed to be pants.  She had small wings on her back with a black cape with red bottom edges that shielded them from view.  And in her hands was a tiny yo-yo.  Before anything else could happen, he quickly pulled out his phone and took pictures.  He wanted to show this to Bruce and brag, sue him.

Soon after that they both left to the rooftops.  He was honestly surprised by how easily she maneuvered around the roofs and how easily her yo-yo grappled and released from things.  They soon landed next to a Cat Woman knock-off who turned to look at them in surprise and exhaustion.  When Marinette saw him she quickly turned to him and tugged on his sleeve.  Jason crouched down and Mini-bug leaned close to his ear and whispered,

“Does Selie have a son?”

Jason snickered and glanced up at the kid.  He seemed to have heard them if the ears twitching and confused look said anything.

“No Pix.  He was just inspired.”

“Oh, okie-dokie!”

“So, I’m assuming you two know each other and she was hit out of suit?”

“Yep, basically.”

“Right.  Well, we just need to break the wand, but I can’t get close.”

“Little Lady, cast your charm.”

Mini-bug puffed up her cheeks making her old —and most adorable— thinking face before yelling out while throwing the yo-yo into the air,

“Lucky Charm!”

“A red and black spotted rubber bullet dropped into Mini's awaiting palms.  Jason promptly took the bullet and loaded it into his gun, it was the perfect fit.  The hideously dressed child flew over to them and flourished her wand creating the opening Jason needed.  With one quick shot the bullet flew through the air and hit the wand causing it to snap.  A black and purple butterfly began to fly out and mini quickly caught it.  She quickly released it bouncing on her heels in pure joy as a wide smile grew onto her face.

“Told ya I coul’ do it!”

“Yes you did, good job Pix.”

Chat Noir, who they hadn’t noticed disappeared, came back with the bullet and handed it to the small girl.  She threw the bullet into the air jumping up as well and yelled out,

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

Millions of Ladybugs flew through the air repairing damages and Turing people back to normal ending with Ladybug herself.  Ladybug looked around confusedly and saw Chat on her right and Red Hood on her left.  Memories of the past hour flashed through her mind and she promptly hid her face in her hands and a deep blush bloomed across her face.

“This is a disaster, a complete disaster.”

“I don’t know Bug, was it?”

Jason asked with a crap eating grin.

“Yes.”

Came her mumbled response.  Jason laughed and ruffled her hair, Marinette was too miserable to care.

“We should go make sure golden boy isn’t panicking too much, don’t ya think?”

Marinette sighed tiredly and nodded, I guess so.

“Sorry Chat, I promise I’ll explain later.  Bug out.”

And as quickly as she could she swung away with Red Hood laughing and not too far behind.

“B is going to hate that he missed this.”

He called through the air causing a loud groan to escape her lips.

“Don’t show him!”

“Too late Pix, already sent them all to the group chat.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you to Babybug.”

Marinette groaned again and Jason laughed all the way to where they found Dick and Zatanna talking in an alleyway.

Taglist:

@queenz-z @aespades @fandomsaremylifeline @stainedglassm @toodaloo-kangaroo @prettylittlebutterflie @trippingovermyfeet @liquid-luck-00 @unoriginalmess @buginetye @miraculouslydumb @aurcad123

[cassiebones]

Okay but what if Pedro had lived?

What if when the Conquistador had swung his sword at Pedro and Pedro closed his eyes, awaiting his fate, praying for the safety of his beloved family, only for the second the sword struck his skin, it shattered into pieces and his attackers were blown back?

What if the miracle still happened, if the candle glowed and the mountains closed around them as Casita bloomed beneath their feet? What if Pedro, shocked, opened his eyes and turned to see his equally shocked wife still kneeling on the ground, holding their babies, the magical candle glowing brighter as a house rose from the ground just behind her? What if he rushed to her side and put his arms around her and his children and they watched Casita come to life?

What if they slowly stood with their babies and their candle and greeted Casita back as it welcomed them into it's doors, along with the other people from the village (bc where else would they stay?) and gave them all a sanctuary?

How different would their lives be?

For one thing, Alma would not have the trauma of having watched her husband die in a horrible way. For another, she would have help raising her kids and being the head of a growing village.

Now, imagine everything else being more or less the same.

The kids get their gifts at age 5 and start to help the village. Alma still starts to put that same pressure on them, but what if Pedro is the one that reminds her that, hey, these are children. Yes, Julieta CAN cook healing foods, but that doesn't mean she must cook ALL foods or do ALL healing, especially for minor ailments. She's just a little girl who likes the run around with her siblings and have fun. She already acts like the oldest in a lot of ways, so just let her be a kid for a little bit while she still can.

With Pepa, both he and Alma work on some kind of meditation together. Alma still has that habit of "you have a cloud!" but they break that soon enough when she sees how anxious it makes Pepa and Pedro reminds her that having a cloud isn't always a bad thing. He takes the opposite approach to Elsa's dad, so instead of conceal, he gets her to really focus on what she's feeling and they make note of what her triggers are. Also, she learns that having a cloud above her head doesn't always lead to bad things. During a drought, she helps out the farmers and provides their crops with much-needed rain. They absolutely adore her and shower her with praise and gifts, even when they don't need any kind of weather. Felix is the son of one of these farmers and falls absolutely head over heels for the pretty girl who makes the rain.

Agustin still finds his way into the Encanto (I still maintain that he is a traveling salesman and not native to the village) and is still a major klutz, who needs the "town doctor" the second he steps within the town limits. Pedro opens the door to him and is like, "this man is a disaster; let me introduce him to my daughter." The rest is history.

With Bruno, Pedro is incredibly protective. Because Bruno's power still upsets a lot of people who don't understand that just because he can see certain things, it doesn't necessarily mean he has caused them. Pedro is constantly arguing with small-minded villagers who accuse Bruno of all kinds of things. Pedro always asks "how? How did my boy do this? Tell me the steps he took to do this." When they have no answer, he shuts the door in their face. Alma, ever the people pleaser, tells him to be nicer to the villagers, but Pedro refuses, straight-out. Why be nice to people who say such horrible things about their child? Alma concedes.

Bruno still is a bit of a nervous wreck, but at least he has Pedro in his corner. They all do. And since Alma still has her husband and didn't watch him be BRUTALLY MURDERED, she is a lot easier on them and they're not all under so much stress. People in the village still look to her as the head of Encanto. (they tried looking to Pedro, but he has always maintained that his wife is the true problem-solver, though he's always willing to help those who need him.) Because of Pedro, though, Alma takes it easy with lending out her children for favors. Pepa only helps the farmers when it's been more three straight days with no rain. Julieta cures only very serious ailments (if you have a cold, suck it up; if you have malaria, have an arepa) and the only cooking she really does is to help out her mama and her entire family tends to cook together (because it's a life skill, dammit) and much of what she makes does go to the villagers for emergency use, but her family also enjoys her cooking. Bruno keeps a log of every vision he has for a villager and, encouraged by Bruno, makes a note of how they treat him when they see him out and about and what their reaction to bad news is. Each villager gets 3 strikes before they're not allowed to ask for visions anymore. This stops people from coming to him for every little thing.

When his grandchildren arrive, Pedro is the most doting Abuelito. Isabela and Dolores are his pride and joy. There's no favorite between the two of them. His little Isa and Lola are practically worshipped (equally) and when they get their powers, he sobs like a baby. He's more chill when Luisa gets her gift, but he's just as proud. He always knew that little girl was strong. He makes sure that strength doesn't mean no emotion though. It's very important that she be allowed to let loose (which means limiting the chores she has to do for the villagers, he tells Alma. They're all adults; they should not be freeloading off a little girl. He helps with most physical labor.)

Camilo and Mirabel are next and they are chaos together as children. They sneak pastries from the kitchen and play pranks on their older siblings and cousins and just wreak absolute havoc. It stresses Alma out, but Pedro finds it funny and he sometimes helps them.

When Camilo gets his gift, but Mirabel doesn't, Alma drives herself crazy with the "why???", staying up all night worrying about their Encanto. Pedro makes her lie down while he holds her and tells her it will all be alright. But how can he say that? What if there's no more magic?

He shrugs. Then there's no more magic. As far as he can see, the kids all still have their powers, so maybe the tradition dies out with them, but their Encanto will go on. Their people will learn how to fend for themselves. They will make sure of it before they go.

But Alma still worries. She still treats Mirabel just a bit different from the rest. She still sees her as an outsider with no gift, even though she's been born into this family.

A major change is that Bruno doesn't leave when he has the vision. He has it and takes it to his father, whom he knows will do right by Mirabel because his mother is just too panicked.

Pedro doesn't hide it from Alma, but he makes certain that she understands Mirabel is not to be treated poorly because they have no idea what this vision means. It's not clear enough, especially since it changes. Maybe the vision is good, maybe it's not. But it's not Mira's fault.

Alma concedes to that but one's nature cannot be changed. Pedro makes sure that Mirabel feels just as important as anybody else in the family. He insists her siblings take her out on chores to help out.

Isa teaches her about the different kinds of flowers and which ones help certain ecosystems and which ones hurt. She can rid harmful flowers with the wave of a hand, but when Mirabel is helping, she takes her time with gardening tools and they spend hours just talking about stuff. They don't grow apart. There are certain villagers who make passive-aggressive remarks about Mirabel being "other" and hot-headed Isabela tells them to basically screw off because they ALSO don't have powers and she can summon giant carnivorous plants that would do away with them in a heartbeat. They back off.

Luisa's job is a bit more difficult for Mirabel to help with, but she still appreciates Mira trying and Mirabel starts to get good muscles from helping out (not as huge as Luisa's, but she has decent-sized biceps), though she's mostly the brains of the operation. She creates plans and ideas for how they can be more efficient without straining themselves too hard (work smarter, not harder) and gives Luisa much-needed downtime to just have fun. She also encourages Luisa, who is a people pleaser just like Abuela, to say no to some things that the villagers can do on their own. Donkeys got out again? Okay Luisa will fix that broken fence or barn door while YOU round them up.

When Antonio is born, it's a surprise (well not that he was born, but that he was conceived at all bc tbh Pepa and Felix thought they were done) but everybody loves him. Pedro asks Casita to build Mirabel her own room, because she's too old to stay in the nursery with a newborn (she is not a nanny) and Casita, who adores Mira, builds her a decent sized room next to the nursery so she can still check in on Antonio, whom she adores and who quickly becomes her favorite cousin.

When he gets his gift, Mirabel is supportive, but leaves the festivities when she hears Abuela say that "gift just as special as you" line because there's that implication that because Mirabel has no gift, she's not special at all and it hurts. Pedro finds her and consoles her, reminding her that she is one of five people in the family with no special power, but that doesn't mean they're not all gifted in other ways. He points out her embroidery and how each family member has a little piece of her with them at all times because of it.

Casita still starts to crumble because now Alma seems to have confirmation that Mirabel is the outlier and she starts to treat her even more differently, much to Pedro's chagrin.

Things proceed, but differently. Now the only person who treats Mira badly is Alma and it's Pedro who finally confronts her about it, because he sees Mira. He sees how she supports her sisters. He sees the effort she makes to bring out any bit of pride or love she can get from Abuela. He sees the toll Alma's indifference takes on Mira. He sees the woman he loves and thought he knew acting like a complete stranger.

They have a huge fight and Casita cracks. Mirabel still tries to save the candle but still fails and feels responsible for the damage. She still goes to the river.

Pedro and Alma find and comfort her. Alma apologizes for all of the shit she's pulled and admits that Mirabel was never to blame for any of it, that it was Alma herself to blame for putting it all on Mirabel's shoulders.

They go back, rebuild Casita, and Mirabel gets her doorknob, reigniting the miracle. It's then that Pedro realizes something: Mirabel is the future of the Encanto. Obviously they all are, but Mirabel will take over for him and Alma when they're gone. She brings out the best in their family, like Pedro. She's a problem-solver, like Alma. Her heart and her brain are good, she holds no animosity or true envy for the gifts she does not possess. She just wants to help.

She is the next matriarch. He tells Alma this and she agrees. Yes. This makes so much sense. That's why Casita didn't give her a special power. Because, like Alma, she doesn't need a power to help her family. She will hold the candle and look over her family and the village.

When the time comes and Alma and Pedro can no longer help the village because they are getting old and tired, they hold a ceremony during which they give the candle to Mirabel and the door to Mira's room switches with theirs to show her as the candle holder. The village embraces this change. The family welcomes this change, because Mirabel has always been the heart of the Casita. Pedro and Alma are filled with so much pride in her and they pass together within weeks of this ceremony, immortalized in the mural on the front door, which continues to grow and change as new family members are born into Casita.

Mirabel sets the expectation for each child that it's possible not to receive a gift but that doesn't mean you're not special, so long as you have a good heart and love your family and they love you.

The next child to not receive a gift is Antonio's daughter, Aurelia, and Mirabel immediately takes her under her wing, determined not to allow another child to feel like less like she did all those years ago, therefore breaking the cycle before it ever really had a chance to start.

[moistmailman]

SCP AU part 2

*Jaune is pushed into a room with a bag over his face before the door shuts on him*

Jaune, slightly muffled: H-HEY! I SAID LET ME GO DAMNIT! *cautiously reaches for bag and touches it before ripping it off*

Jaune, immediately turning to the door and banging on it: I SWEAR TO GOD YOU GUYS BETTER LET ME OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW! WHAT KINDA FUCKED SOCIAL EXPERIMENT IS THIS?! *continue banging*

Jaune, continuing his assault on the door: MY MOM’S A LAWYER BY THE WAY! SHE’LL SUE YOUR ASSES, I SWEAR IT! SHE’LL SUE YOUR ASS SO HARD THAT WE’LL GET FINANCIAL CONPENSATION FROM YOUR DAMN GRAND KIDS! *bangs louder* YOU HEAR ME! HELLO.....IM SERIOUS.....nobody can hear me, can they?

Pyrrha: I can hear you.

*Jaune squeaks loudly before getting in a karate stance while turning to see a tall redhead girl around his age with vivid green eyes sitting on a bed*

Jaune, internally: What the fuck?! How long has she been here?!

Pyrrha, awkwardly waving: Hello.

Jaune, awkwardly waving back: Uh..hi.

*an awkward silence fall on the two, with the blonde slightly blushing and the redhead staring at him with interest*

Jaune, internally: Holy shit, she’s pretty. My god, she absolutely stunning. She has got to be the prettiest girl I’ve seen in my li— Wait Wait, Jauney-Boy, you're getting side tracked. What the fuck is going on in here, and why did those guys put me in a room with a very hot girl with really long and smooth legs— GAH, HORMONES THERE ARE MORE IMPORTANT MATTERS TO ATTEND TO!

Pyrrha: *giggles while slightly blushing*

Jaune, terrified:......w-was I t-talking out loud?

Pyrrha: Hmm? Oh no. *smiles teasingly* Why? What were you thinking about?

Jaune, voice cracking: N-nothing. Nothing at— *clears throat* H-hey, I’m Jaune.

Pyrrha, smiling: Pyrrha, charmed.

Jaune, internally: Wow, even her name is pretty.

Pyrrha: *snickers cutely*

*Jaune looks around to see what she’s snickering at to see nothing*

Jaune, shrugging it off: So uhm....they tricked you with the social experiment, huh?

*Pyrrha thinks for a moment, before a coy smile gets plastered on her lips*

Pyrrha: Yeah, you can say something like that.

Jaune: Damn. Who the hell are these people, and you have any idea what they even want from us?

Pyrrha, shaking her head: Your guess is as good as mine.

Jaune, sighing: Great. Isn’t today just wonderful. Should’ve known that offer was too good to be true. *slide his back against the wall until he’s sitting* Teach me not to read documents people tell me to sign.

*MEANWHILE, SOMETIME LATER*

Cinder, sighing: Wow, great plan, Roman. We are learning things about her so fast.

Roman: This takes patience, Cinder.

Cinder, frustrated: The boy haven’t even said anything to her for the past 5 minutes! He’s just sitting his ass on the floor. The boy is socially handicapped!

Roman: That’s not my fault! You're the one who pick him!

Cinder: Well you were the one to make this stupid plan in the first place! How will the boy even ask her about her powers in the first place if he doesn't even know that he needs to ask?!

Roman: Geez, I don't know! How did I know about you being an only child?

Cinder: Be—

Roman: Because I asked you as a curious person who wants to know about my friend! Now believe it or but if I got under the assumption that you started reading my mind, you bet your ass I would ask you about it, especially if I was trapped in a small room with you!

Cinder: But why would SCP-312 answer the question if she knows what we're trying to—

Roman, urgently: Hush! Something's happening!

*MEANWHILE*

Jaune: *has been moving uncomfortably on the floor for the past 5 minutes*

Pyrrha, scooting in her bed: Hey, you wanna sit next to me? The floor looks pretty uncomfortable.

Jaune: Really? You're alright with that?

Pyrrha, smiling warmly: Of course. The bed's large enough. *Pat beside her* Here.

Jaune, slightly blushing: O-oh, Uh, sure then. Thanks.

*Jaune walks over to the bed before sitting down, his cheeks crimsoning*

Pyrrha: There, is that better?

Jaune: Y-yeah. T-thanks.

Pyrrha: Youre welcome:

*Once again the room fall to silence as the boy looks everywhere but at the very attractive girl he's shoulder to shoulder with*

Jaune, internally: God, what's wrong with me?! I just got kidnnapped yet I'm more worried about this super hot girl sitting next to me! I can barely form coherent sentences around her! Damn, my hands are all sweaty too! She's so close! I can feel her body warmth! Just calm down, Jauney. Calm down already. Take a deep breath, and try to strike up a conversation with her. This silence is deafening.

Jaune, taking a deep breath: So, what—

Pyrrha: *Facing Jaune with a warm smile*

Jaune, voice wavering: —y-y-your.......*turns away in embarrassment*

Jaune, internally: For god sake! I can’t get used to that smile! It’s like beautiful personified. God damnit. I need to keep a conversation going, at least until those guys come back! Okay think! What did mom tell me about talking to girls?

A memory starts playing inside Jaune’s head with his mother’s voice: Remember Sweetie, women love wedding rings, but they love babies more.

Jaune, internally:.....is...is that it?! Really?! That’s literally the only advice my mother has ever given more for girls. How the hell is baby propaganda supposed to help me in this situation?! What kinda— okay, calm down. I have another parent. What did dad tell me?

Another memory starts playing in Jaune’s head, this time with his father’s voice: Son, I have absolutely no idea how I managed to make your mother fall for me. I am not the man you should be asking. You’ll probably have a better shot asking the stars that question.

Jaune, internally:.........I’m going to die alone, aren’t I? My parents managed to make the opposite sex so completely alien to me, despite me having 7 sisters! What he actual fuck?! This is an absolute disaster! This can’t get any worst!

*Jaune then remembers one crucial detail of the predicament he’s in*

Jaune, internally: OH GOD! I FORGOT I WAS ALSO KIDNAPPED! WHAT THE FUCK EVEN IS TODAY?! I’M PROBABLY GOING TO DIE IN HERE AND I CANT EVEN STRIKE UP A CONVERSATION WITH THE GIRL WHO WILL POSSIBLY DIE WITH ME! I AM A DISGRACE TO EVERY ARC TO EVER LIVE! I CAN FEEL MY ANCESTORS LOOKING AT ME WITH DISGUST! OH GOD! WHAT THE—

*Suddenly Jaune’s nerves instantly drop and a calm aura surrounds him, almost like it just completely disappeared and got replace with an warm and inviting energy*

Jaune, confused: Huh?

*The weight on Jaune’s hand then became evident, as he looked down and found Pyrrha’s hand gently lying on his, almost reassuringly*

Jaune, slightly blushing:.........

Pyrrha, in soothing tone: So, tell me about yourself.

Jaune, no longer feeling nervous for a reason he doesn’t know why:...........well, I just graduated from college.

*MEANWHILE*

Cinder, frantically: WRITE THAT DOEN, WRITE THAT DOWN!

Roman, equally as frantic: I AM! I AM!

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, here is a rec list of fics featuring gentle Harry. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like this post and reblog it to spread the word. Happy reading!

1) I Wanna Hear Your Heart Every Single Beating Part | Mature | 2325 words

This is all Harry's fault for wearing that lavender sweater and me thinking Louis would look absolutely amazing in it with nothing else on.

2) This Here City Is For The Lonely Ones | Explicit | 2640 words

This is Harry’s favourite part. When Louis gets so blinded by the pleasure that he doesn’t think about what he should or should not be saying or doing, and just feels.

3) Some Anniversaries Are Messy | Mature | 6256 words

Prompt: Louis tries to cook Harry a romantic dinner for their 3rd anniversary...and it's an absolute disaster. Needless to say, it ends with tomato sauce on the ceiling, flour scattered everywhere, and a pleasantly sore arse hoisted onto the kitchen counter.

4) Act Out | Explicit | 6721 words

Harry leans forward so he's closer to Louis's ear, and murmurs, "If I was your husband, I'd never let you out of my sight."

It’s ridiculous. He is his husband. There’s hundreds of photos, and official papers, and rings, and two babies with the last name Tomlinson Styles that prove it. But it’s also possessive, and hot and Louis doesn’t know what he was expecting when Harry told him he wanted to try roleplaying a little, but so far he’s not complaining.

5) Enter The Rose Garden | General Audiences | 10387 words

Soft heats make omega Louis clingy. Enter alpha Harry.

6) As Deep As The Sky | Explicit | 12265 words

A passed-out omega on the bathroom floor isn't exactly what Harry had in mind when he thought about taking a cute boy home. The idea of leaving Louis there, vulnerable and unresponsive, weighs guiltily at Harry's conscience. Turns out it's the best decision he'll ever make.

7) (Quiet Like A Fight) Fingers Laced Together | Mature | 17479 words

The one where Harry is gifted a hybrid and it’s a whole new world for the both of them. 

8) A Grocery List Pinned In Blue | Not Rated | 19839 words

AU. After eight years, Louis finally has everything he's wanted. Except for Harry.

9) If Anyone Knew | Mature | 50828 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry’s a young alpha who’s strangely gentle. Louis’ an omega who’s strangely protective. Being the only ones in the band who aren’t betas they automatically empathise with each other and decide that it’s their job to look after each other.

10) A Taste Of Freedom And Sweetened Passion | Mature | 74711 words

“Are you mad?” he explodes, throwing his hands up, groaning. “I was so, so close to reaching my goal, and your stupid, stalking ass had to creep up on me, hm?”

 Harry is trying to keep his laughter in, walking closer to him, eyes soft. He doesn’t like the way those eyes make him feel, an odd, dangerous mix of nervous and flustered, so he bends down to pick up the books, raising an eyebrow when Harry growls in protest.

“I wanted to pick them up for you,” the alpha pouts, and Louis glares at him, getting into position and lowering the pile of yellowed pages over the top of his head.

“I’m a functional human being, thank you very much,” he grits out as he begins to walk and mentally count the amount of steps he takes. One, two, three, for heaven’s sake Harry fuck off!, four, five. He doesn’t let himself be distracted as the alpha walks along with him despite the slow pace, green eyes focused on him in a way that would, in any other cases, compelled him to throw a book in the alpha’s face.

He doesn’t know why he doesn’t do it and certainly doesn’t want to think about the reason, whatever it might be.

11) And Down the Long and Silent Street | Mature | 86090 words

Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis’ past finally catches up with him.

12) Cold Little Heart | Teen & Up | 194589 words

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child. A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something odd. In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham. Louis really could use the help.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[pastelpinkcheeks]

☆ Light and funny line of Feanor headcanons to make you forget everyone dies at the end ☆

Maedhros

☆ You might be intimidated at first because of how tall he is, but Maedhros is the gentlest giant you will ever see. He is well mannered and very behaved, with the kindest heart among the sons of Feanor. The only time you will see Maitimo going apeshit is if you insult his family for no reason at all (calling Celegorm a little bitch is allowed)

☆ While he might be a great swordsman and warrior, his foot game is also great for dancing!

☆ He is a little shy over other people calling him Maitimo, so he only tolerates his mother and sometimes his cousin Fingon calling him that. Celegorm and Curufin are strictly prohibited to even glance in his general direction.

Maglor

☆ Everyone loves his music. Everyone is also tired of trying to have a conversation and having Maglor completely going at it with the harp in the background. He doesnt do it on purpose, though, it's just that he gets LOST in the music and doesn't notice he is playing louder and louder

☆ He is the most serious and concentrated of the brothers. Besides loving music, he loves poetry and writing, and is a man of the arts.

☆ Maglor is also very sensible. He does not enjoy jumping to conclusions or doing things hurriedly. The only person who can put ideas on his head is Maedhros, who Maglor has a strong perfect older brother syndrome with. It also doesn't help the fact that Maedhros is a good head taller than him.

Celegorm

☆ Every family has a wild bitch and Celegorm is that bitch. He loves to get dirty, appear after hunting totally covered in mud to the point young Caranthir was terrified thinking they were being attacked by an overgrown Orc.

☆ A dog person, as we all know, but Celegorm is also a great bird whisperer. He will often get information from the little birds and find out where to hunt better prey. Nerdanel once tried to use that connection to fortify Celegorm's respect in Manwe. That didn't really work.

☆ He absolutely LOVES to annoy the hell out of the other brothers, especially Caranthir and Maedhros.

Caranthir

☆ He has a middle child syndrome that not even Freud could explain.

☆ He considers himself to be mediocre at everything, never mind him being a great weaver like his grandmother used to be. There are only two people who can knock some sense inside his head, his mother Nerdanel and Haleth, whom he considers a friend

☆ Despises Celegorm for getting the Miriel hair when it should've been him!!!

Curufin

☆ Daddy's boy, but not by choice at first. He didnt choose to walk around holding on Feanor's hemlines, it was Feanor who decided the new child was going to be his #1 baby.

☆ The only one to inherit the raven hair + silver eyes combo. That made him a little cocky.

☆ A walking fashion disaster, will not wear anything that is not red. Completely absorbed Feanor's poster child expectations and turned it into his fashion sense. Maedhros is a little relieved at that because he, secretly, hates wearing red because it clashes with his hair. So he is happy someone else is taking that fashion statement burden.

Ambarussa

☆ First ever twins to spawn in Vallinor so everyone is freaking out over them. Feanor is very proud because everyone is curious at how did he do it!? You're so talented Mr. Feanor! Nerdanel is mad because she was the one who carried TWO BABIES so she is the one deserving all that praise, not Mr. I-Only-Released-My-Load.

☆ They communicate telepathically but also created a special language between them that sounds a lot like an Eldritch horror speech. It freaks everyone out.

☆ They are perceived as little well behaved angels, much like Maedhros, but they are secretly little pests and love to play pranks on everyone. Most often than not, it is Celegorm or Curufin taking the blame. But since Curufin is untouchable, it's mostly Celegorm who gets yelled at.

BONUS!!

Celebrimbor

☆ Had a weird ass phase growing up where he wanted to be just like Feanor so he tried to dye his dark brown hair pure black with a concoction made out of mint, nightshade, water, oil and blackberries. Curufin stopped him before he ended up poisoning himself.

☆ Is the introvert who, once you befriend, will not shut up. This young elf can talk for days.

☆ Besides being a hell of a smith, he is also great at woodcarving in that Art Deco style, a technic he learned with his little dwarrow friends.

[whaleiumsharkspeare]

Top 5 Comfort Characters

Tagged by @crazy-fangurl1

5.) Nemo and Marlin from Finding Nemo

MY FAVORITE MOVIE EVER. This movie literally means so much to me. It’s the reason I’m in school studying marine biology. Nemo is SO CUTE and sweet but I really love Marlin. He was willing to put his fear aside and traverse the entire ocean just to get his son back. I love that. I’ve got a thing for good dad characters, and Marlin is one of the best. All my love to Finding Nemo

4.) Rapunzel from Tangled

The best Disney princess, don’t @ me. She is a literal ray of sunshine. She has such a wonderful, cheerful personality and is able to spread a little joy wherever she goes. I love her passion for art and all the other hobbies she does. I see so much of myself in her

3.) Miguel from Coco

I love this child and this movie is 10/10. He has a great singing voice and can play guitar with the best of them. Adorable small child, lemme hug. His great-great grandfather Héctor also counts as a comfort character because Héctor is GREAT

2.) Luca from Luca

The fish boy is my son. Smol boy, he is baby. I love his cheerful naïveté and his curiosity and excitement for the world around him. He has a wonderful and bright imagination. He is such a ray of sunshine. Would adopt if I could

1.) Varian from Tangled the Series

He is my son, I love him so much. Wonderful disaster alchemy child. He is such a well-written character with a great character arc and I loved that he was able to redeem himself. He’s so adorable with his little freckles and baby blue puppy dog eyes and bunny teeth. I love his knack for science and what a nerdy little dork he is. 10/10 would adopt. Plus his singing voice is absolutely amazing. He’s Jeremy Jordan, nuff said

Tagging:

@kazoosandfannypacks @whitecatindisguise @romanholidayinn @cottagecorelore

[peralta-guaranteed]

Oh, inspired by the other lovely breastfeeding ask - what if instead Mac loved breastfeeding and Amy and Jake have to struggle to wean him off the boob when he's over a year old? Like he refuses to go to sleep without being nursed and Amy is like I'm done with the hassle but also she cannot say no to that cute lil face !

(aww, now we got both sides of the coin re: breastfeeding :D)

They'd started trying with baby-led weaning, which was a disaster - or rather, didn't happen at all. Mac wasn't going to lead any of that anywhere, it quickly showed, unless they pushed him.

Not that he liked to be pushed, either. Any further attempts to quit breastfeeding entirely led to nightly screaming, crying, the most morose, non-sleeping baby they'd ever seen, and generally more trouble than it was worth. So Amy had always relented, just to get him to sleep or calm him down when he felt sicklish, 'just this once', and then they'd be back to the start.

Jake, obviously, didn't mind as much. It was one of the rare things about child-rearing he couldn't take over anyway, and felt like he really shouldn't have an opinion about, but if he was completely honest - he did love the view of an extremely content little Mac, his eyes slowly turning more and more tired as he snuffled and suckled in Amy's arms, who herself was snuggled into their bed. It was their little bubble of comfort during the evenings, and he could definitely see why Mac felt that way too.

But he was almost a year old, and he was eating more than enough solids (he was crazy about bananas, and Amy had found this brand of yogurt that, when mixed with a cut up banana, had him positively drooling over his high chair. Terry had wept a little tear when Jake had told him about it). He was getting bigger and more independent and he really, really didn't need to breastfeed anymore, Amy had argued convincingly. He wasn't asking for it out of hunger or need in the evenings or before naps, really, it was as much a habit as his pacifier or suckling on his empty bottle that he insisted to carry absolutely everywhere. And she really didn't feel like offering her boobs as pacifiers to a needy toddler anymore (an argument that Jake definitely understood - he would be lying if he didn't look forward to getting her boobs back from his son, as well).

Plus there was this whole thing they'd finally talked about in-depth two weeks ago, during what was supposed to be date night, but turned more into a 'we really need to use the time away from Mac to update our files and life plans, babe' night. That thing about baby no. 2, who so far had only been mentioned in jokes and throw aways, but after that night had definitely become a solid decision. And while Amy had researched it, and proven that "You can't get pregnant while you breastfeed" was only half-true as an old wives' tale, it definitely didn't help with the trying to have Mac in their bed every evening, falling asleep on the boob.

As he did now, snuffling away with half-lidded eyes, gripping and mashing Amy's t-shirt like always. Jake had tried to get him to sleep for two hours before stumbling into the bedroom, looking at Amy in bed with the most apologetic frown he could muster.

"I know we shouldn't. We really shouldn't. But he's so-" Mac proved exactly how he was by wailing as loud as possible once more while making grabby hands towards Amy, almost struggling out of Jake's arms.

Amy spared her two over-tired, shaggy looking boys only one strict look before sighing and sitting up.

"Alright, hand him over."

And now here they were again. Mac falling asleep on Amy, Jake almost asleep next to them as well.

"We need to find a way out of this, Jake." Amy whispers, afraid to startle Mac when he was finally dozing off. "I don't know, nothing from the books has helped, and my mom doesn't know either - we were all so much easier to wean, she says. Would be nice if he could be more of a Santiago in that respect..." She sighs and looks down, where Mac is slipping off of her completely. She pries his hands off her shirt carefully to hand him over to Jake, who only nods and carries him back to the nursery with the softest steps he's ever taken - a skill well-learned after Mac's first year.

He slips back into bed a few minutes later, next to Amy already completely covered up under blankets and pillows - there's definitely no baby-2-plans tonight. His hands still find hers under all the covers, squeeze three times like they've done for years, an unspoken I love you neither of them remembers who came up with by now.

"Maybe we should just let him cry it out in the evenings." He offers into the quiet, and Amy's noise is one of approval and disapproval at the same time.

"The neighbours are going to kill us. Remember how Mrs. Mendoza looked at us in the elevator when Mac started teething?"

"Mrs. Mendoza is always going to look at us wrong for our heathen ways, Ames, there's not much we can do to fix that." Not since they started dating, anyway, and kept the bitter old lady awake several nights with very different noises. Amy sighs again and lets the silence envelop them for a moment.

"We could go on holiday for a week and leave him with your mom for babysitting. He's got to be weaned after 7 days of no boob, right?"

"That's dark, babe." She can hear the shocked grin in his voice. "Definitely putting it on the list of options."

"It would also help kickstart baby 2..." Amy's voice is much deeper than his, and much, much closer. He feels her lips against his, soft, but with just a hint of passion.

"Mmh, keep convincing me." He still grins as he mumbles against her lips, deepening the kiss and pulling her to his side, before a high-pitched wail makes them pull apart. It quickly turns into a steady cry, and Jake turns to get out of bed with the deepest sigh of the evening.

"Don't bring him in here. I won't be able to say no to his cute little face all sad."

"True Peralta power." Jake jokes before leaning over to kiss her one more time - Mac's crying and Mrs. Mendoza be damned. "You can check our schedules for a possible holiday instead."

[just-a-poor-boy-queen]

Part 33 of Jimercury Kid series

Jim couldn’t understand it. He was completely and utterly baffled.

He had spent the last few weeks watching what he ate, cutting back on higher calorie foods, restricting his sweets, sometimes skipping meals altogether and substituting them for tea or coffee. And yet, as he stood there in his bedroom in front of the mirror, hands struggling with the buttons of his trousers, it all seemed to be for naught.

He could barely fit into any of his clothes. His trousers wouldn’t button, his shirts strained against his chest and even his pyjamas seemed ready to tear at the seams the moment he put them on. He couldn’t understand it; he had tried, he really tried. Yet it seemed he had put on weight rather than lost it.

Freddie had got rid of the scales during his illness, as it depressed him too much to be reminded of how thin and frail he was becoming, so Jim was forced to rely on his own estimation. Given how nothing fit him anymore, it was clear that his current approach to losing weight wasn’t working.

He gave up fighting with the button and pulled the trousers off in frustration, tossing them across the room. He wrapped himself back up in his dressing gown, which seemed to be the only thing that he could breathe in and sat down on the bed in defeat. He couldn’t help but allow his mind to wander to darker thoughts; what if it kept getting worse? What if Freddie looked at him one day and was disgusted by what he saw? Someone as beautiful as Freddie deserved better. He would tell Jim to pack his bags and leave.

He knew he shouldn’t think of such things, but he couldn’t help himself. He had always been made to feel that he wasn’t good enough for Freddie and this only cemented the idea into his head.

And the worst part? His poor mood was making him crave a biscuit.

He groaned and flopped down onto the mattress.

--

‘I’m in big trouble.’

Phoebe couldn’t help but snigger with laughter as Freddie held up one of Jim’s shirts, which was now noticeably smaller than it had been before it went in the wash.

Recently, Freddie had become insistent on being more independent and enlisted Phoebe to show him how to use various items around the house, including the washing machine. In hindsight, Phoebe should have known that this impulsive venture was destined for disaster; of course, Freddie would insist on doing Jim’s washing to surprise him, and then whack the machine up to 60 degrees despite Phoebe’s warnings. And now Jim’s loosest T-shirt was more of a crop top if anything.

Freddie sighed and set the shirt down, folding it pointlessly. ‘On a scale on one to ten, how angry do you think Jim will be?’

‘For shrinking his entire wardrobe?’ Phoebe pretended to consider the question. ‘At least an eleven.’

This clearly wasn’t the right thing to say, as Freddie groaned and faceplanted onto the kitchen table.

‘Cheer up, you old tart.’ Phoebe grinned and gave the singer a nudge. ‘Jim can never stay cross with you for long. Just explain yourself and he’ll forgive you.’

‘I know he’ll forgive me – it’s the half an hour lecture I’m not looking forward to.’ The Persian grumbled and pushed his chair back. ‘Maybe I should take Khaleel up with me. He can’t shout at me if the baby is there.’

‘Using your child as a shield? That’s low even for you.’

‘Give over, Phoebe. You and Joe were happy enough to use Jim as a scapegoat when you were smuggling cats into the house, so don’t you lecture me about morals.’

Five minutes later, Freddie was warily ascending the staircase towards the master bedroom, a packet of custard creams in one hand and Khaleel scampering at his heels. He was mentally preparing himself for the severe scolding he would inevitably receive, but hopefully a few biscuits would sweeten Jim’s mood. Lord knows, the Irishman could use them; he had been eating so little recently, he was practically wasting away into nothing. (1/2)

‘Darling?’ Freddie called out softly as he pushed open the door, scanning the room until he located Jim lying flat out on the bed, staring at the ceiling. ‘Darling, we brought you something.’

‘Don’t come in.’ Jim replied groggily, not even looking up from where he was laying. ‘I’m hideous.’

Freddie chuckled, not picking up the sincerity in Jim’s tone as he stepped into the room, Khaleel immediately making a beeline for the bed. ‘Hey, that’s my line!’

‘We brought biscuits, Daddy.’ Khaleel said excitedly, bouncing onto the bed and sprawling on top of Jim, resting his chin on the man’s chest. ‘I’ve already had three, so Baba says the rest are for you.’

The mere mention of confectionary made Jim groan. ‘Please take them away. I’ll probably put on ten pounds just looking at them.’

‘What do you mean?’ Freddie asked, sitting himself down beside his husband and son. ‘I thought you liked custard creams.’

Jim gave a loud, heavy sigh, lifting a hand to gently pet Khaleel’s hair. ‘I’m fat.’

There was a brief pause as everyone took a moment to process those two words. Then Freddie chuckled loudly, only stopping when he realised Jim was serious.

‘You’re not fat, you silly fool!’ Freddie exclaimed, looking scandalised. ‘If anything, you could stand to eat more. There’s nothing of you these days!’

‘Oh, come on Freddie.’ Jim couldn’t help but snap, though he quickly lowered his voice when he realised that he had startled Khaleel. Their son hated it when they argued, and he quickly pressed a kiss against the little boy’s nose to reassure him. ‘I know for a fact that I’ve put on weight. I don’t fit into any of my clothes anymore. If that’s not proof, I don’t know what is.’

Freddie felt his cheeks begin to burn and he carefully placed the packet of custard creams out of Jim’s reach, in case the Irishman decided to use them as a weapon. ‘Ah…that might be my fault.’

Jim sat up, sitting Khaleel on his lap as he stared at Freddie in confusion. ‘How is it your fault?’

‘Well, I asked Phoebe to show me how to use some of the appliances around the house.’ Replied Freddie, playing with his fingers awkwardly. ‘And I wanted to surprise you by doing your laundry. But I might have turned the temperature up a little too high.’

Jim’s eyes went wide. ‘You shrunk my clothes?!’

‘In my defence, Phoebe is partially at fault for listening to me when I told him I knew what I was doing.’ Freddie dropped his gaze to his lap, peering up at Jim through his eyelashes. ‘I’m really sorry, darling.’

But Jim just started to laugh, though it sounded like he was on the verge of crying as well. ‘Jesus Christ, Freddie. You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that. I thought I was going to end up needing a forklift to get downstairs.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with your weight.’ Freddie said gently, leaning over and brushing a kiss against the man’s bearded cheek. ‘You’re perfect just the way you are, isn’t he, Kenny?’

‘I love Daddy’s tummy.’ Khaleel replied, giving Jim’s stomach a pat. ‘He’s like a big cuddly teddy bear!’

‘Exactly. He’s our teddy bear.’ Freddie kissed his husband again, rubbing his cheek against the man’s stubble. ‘So…are you cross with me?’

‘Of course I’m cross with you!’ Jim exclaimed, though he was cracking up as he spoke. ‘I have to invest in a whole new wardrobe now, thanks to your terrible laundry skills!’

‘I’ll take you shopping tomorrow, I promise.’ Freddie pouted and thrust the packet of biscuits under Jim’s nose. ‘Now, stop telling me off and eat my peace offering.’ (2/2)

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

Awwww haha I loved this!

Firstly, I love how you've explored any body image issues that Jim may have had, and how that tied to his insecurities of not being good enough for Freddie.

And oof, baby Jimbo was adorable.

And the worst part? His poor mood was making him crave a biscuit.

Awwww I love my Irish teddy bear so much😂💙

Also, lmao Freddie being absolute shit at using a washing machine, Phoebe's amusement at his friend's antics, and Freddie eventually blaming Phoebe for putting too much faith into him made me crack up😂😂😂 He's such a character, our Freddie.

(More drabbles by writer anon)

(All the parts of this series can also be found under the tag #freddie and jim and their baby on this blog)

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

I’m Ready

Summary: “I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.” 

Picks up right where the show left off. Not technically a fix-it, as I didn’t change anything, but I promise it gets better. 

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of (canon) child abuse and neglect, mentions of past trauma, working through trauma, denial, bit of pining (but, like, in a denial sort of way), some fluff, some angst (but not as much as there is fluff)

Author’s Note: So many thanks to @there-must-be-a-lock​ for endless suggestions, fixes, and beautiful images (header AND dividers!!!). Thanks to all my friends for cheering me on, especially @thoughtslikeaminefield​ ; I probably wouldn’t have kept going with the story without you.

This is my first Destiel story and my first time posting in a while. Please be kind.

Word Count: 7704

In case you missed it: ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

Dean isn’t sure how long he’s been in heaven, at least not by heaven’s timeframe. Probably years, maybe even a couple of decades. He doesn’t age in heaven, and time works differently, running fast and stretching slow. 

For Dean, heaven is a chance to rest, catch up with his massive found family, and just breathe for the first time since he was a kid. No worrying about Sam, no waiting for the next monster to pop out, no prepping for the next apocalypse.

Nothing like heaven to give a guy time to kick his boots off and just relax. 

Unfortunately, relaxing has never come easy to Dean. Sure, he can go through the motions (binge watching horror movies, binge drinking, hell, just bingeing in general), but relaxing is an entirely different matter.

Relaxing means letting his guard down. It means giving up his hypervigilance. It means sleeping hard and staying asleep until he wakes naturally and unassisted by attackers. It means spending long moments reminding himself the monster at the end of the book is really gone.

Sam is safe. Everyone he’s ever loved is safe and close, where he can reach them.

Almost everyone. 

...

Jake Walker is born on the ninth of July at twenty-one seconds past 9:14 AM. His mother Samantha is exhausted after a two-weeks-early delivery, but both she and the baby are strong and steady. Her wife didn’t faint, none of the medical team ever sounded the least worried, and she heard her son’s first shocked wail as he came into the world. Exhausted, but definitely good.

His mom Betty, on the other hand, is an absolute wreck. She’s been anxious the entire pregnancy, despite good news from the doctor at every visit, and she is terrified that the unexpected early arrival of their son means her worst fears are just beginning. 

Betty takes slow, calming breaths, focusing on not clamping down too hard on Sam’s hand. She has to stay strong, calm, for her new family. She has to keep her head on straight, in case—in case —

“Your son is absolutely fine, seems he just had a real particular time he wanted to arrive. Here he is.”

Betty opens her eyes to find a delivery nurse beaming at her, proffering a small, swaddled bundle.

“Never seen such a calm baby. Here, he’s been waiting for you.” 

Betty looks down into the startlingly clear, mossy green eyes gazing up at her from the squashed, serene little face, and she feels something click into place in the middle of her chest. Samantha leans her head back against her pillow, letting out a long slow breath as she smiles, and Betty’s pulse slowly finds its way back to something like normal.

“We’ve been waiting for you, too, big guy.”

...

Trauma doesn’t heal in a day, not even in heaven. All the shit Dean remembers — all the shit he tried to forget — everything he ever managed to suppress — drives him from his bed at night, leaving him sleepless on his front porch, staring blankly into the night, or tinkering on Baby in the garage, digging into the perfect engine, determined to distract himself from his spiraling thoughts. 

Dean has never been an idiot, no matter how many times he played the fool in life. The people he and Sam couldn’t save, the people he let down, none of those deaths are on him. Dean isn’t responsible for the pain and suffering, but he’s haunted by it all the same. 

The problem is, haunts don’t go away on their own. Every hunter knows that. 

It’s not that he wants forgiveness; how can he be forgiven for something he isn’t responsible for? He needs to see those people, though, see that they’re okay and at peace. He has to make sure everyone is where they should be, safe and at least content. And even if he ultimately isn’t their killer, didn’t want their deaths, would have done anything to prevent them, he still needs them to know...to know everything. 

He needs absolution.

And if the person who needs to hear those things the most is MIA, well, they’ve got a history of not saying a lot of things face to face. There’s always prayer, right? 

Dean starts by visiting a couple of people he hadn’t been able to save along the way, feeling strangely like someone following a twelve step program. Objectively, (ie, according to the people he talks to), he’s got nothing to apologize for. He did his best; he made tough decisions in situations forced upon him. They don’t blame him in the least, and most are truly and obviously thankful for his intervention.

Their words don’t make much of a dent in the mountain of guilt Dean carries on his shoulders, but it’s a start. 

Once or twice, Dean finds himself looking up at the sky, so far from empty, opening his mouth to call out — an action so common on earth it nearly became reflex —but he stops himself both times. He’s not ready for that conversation.

But he needs to talk to someone closer to him, a deeper connection than the monster victims he’s been visiting. 

He’s restless, needs to move a little, needs to talk to…

Someone. He needs to talk to someone. But he can’t. Hell, he can’t even say the name. 

Pacing the garage turns to a wandering ramble down the road, past Sam and his family’s house, past Mom and Dad’s house (there’s a conversation or fifty that he’s not ready for), until he finds himself in front of what can only be described as a hobbit hole. He shakes his head, not for the first time, the corner of his mouth tilted up as he knocks on the circular front door. 

He’s greeted by bright red hair, a surprisingly crushing hug, and one of the brightest smiles Dean has ever seen.

“Hey, Charlie. Can we, uh...You up for a walk? I was hopin we could talk for a while.”

...

Jake grows quickly and steadily, always near the top of all his growth charts but never alarmingly so. He’s bright, quick to anger and quick to laugh, and fiercely loving. He is both his mothers’ boy, always up for a cuddle or a wrestle, and he loves to build block towers and demolish them with equal abandon. 

He makes his displeasure with vegetables known early on. On this particular morning, he introduces his strained peas to the kitchen wall with surprising velocity. Betty knows better than to encourage this attitude, so she hides her smile behind calm, controlled admonition as she offers another spoonful. 

Jake looks her straight in the eyes, his smile dazzling and laughter bright, and she knows she hasn’t fooled him one bit. She sighs and lets her own smile match his. He won her over the day he was born; there’s not much point trying to fight it now.

“Come on, babe, eat your peas and we’ll see about some of those stewed apples left over from Mommy’s pie filling. Deal?”

She scrunches her nose and wiggles her eyebrows. Jake’s little eyes widen at her expression, and he tries to imitate it before dissolving into giggles. Betty takes the opportunity to poke a spoonful of peas into his open mouth. 

She’s not spent much time around kids before this, but Betty swears she’s never seen a baby look so resigned and exasperated in real life. But she’s played her trump card. He’s too young for the crust, but a couple of spoonfuls of smashed up fruit (apple is his favorite), and Jake is guaranteed to eat just about anything she presents.

“Pie?” she asks.

Jake smiles and opens his mouth wider.

...

“SURPRISE!!!”

The last time he was shocked this badly, Sam didn’t let him forget that fucking cat for years. Or ever, really. Seems like everyone he ever knew is stuffed into his living room, barely leaving room for the balloon bouquets and a massive… That’s not a cake, it’s…

That’s the most beautiful apple pie Dean has ever seen in his entire life. 

Dean is engulfed by arms, hugging and patting and slapping his back (was that a pinch on his ass?), everyone eager to get their turn with him, wishing him a happy birthday, saying they can’t wait until he opens his presents, it’s so good to see him, he’s looking so rested!

He manages to extract himself from the wellwishers, citing parental obligations, and finally makes his way over to Mary, smiling warmly and offering him a knife and a plate. His eyes flick anxious from his mom to the golden brown circle of perfection before him, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Mary’s smile widens.

“I didn’t lay a hand on it except to take it out of the box. Happy Birthday, Dean.”

Six plates of pie later, Dean reclines on his couch, letting the relaxed atmosphere of the party sink into his bones. The excitement and crowd of early have begun to wind down, leaving a double handful of family, both blood and found, all telling the most embarrassing, terrible Dean stories they can think of.

It’s possible Dean’s never laughed this hard in his entire life.

He heaves a deep sigh of contentment and props his feet ponderously on the coffee table, draping an arm across the back of the couch and surveying the room. 

Donna, one of the apparent party conspirators, tosses him a sparkling grin over her shoulder before turning back to a rather animated conversation with Charlie about the length of Dean’s wig at the LARPing battle. Sam and Kevin are recounting Dean’s worst cooking disasters to Garth’s wife, and Bobby is entertaining Mary with Dean’s disastrous attempt to flirt with the pizza delivery girl who delivered to Bobby’s house most weekends when Sam and Dean would stay with him. 

If Dean had to describe one perfect day, this would be just about it, down to the flakiness of the pie crust and the amazing collection of horror movies and original vinyls he’s been gifted. Almost every single person he could possibly want present is there, and since he isn’t dwelling on absence today, Dean decides to push his wandering thoughts out of his head and just soak it all in.

Every muscle in his body hums contentedly, and Dean feels strangely warm and peaceful, but excited, all at once. It’s weird, just sitting here and enjoying the moment, not worrying about the next minute or hour or day or even year. He’s full of pie, he’s got great tunes to look forward to, and there’s nothing to worry about. 

He’s happy.

Naturally, that’s when the panic sets in. This won’t last; it never does. Happiness can’t last. He learned that a long time ago. 

Sure, it’s heaven, but he doesn’t deserve to be here, so something is going to spoil it for him, for everyone. Probably Dean himself, he thinks as his eyes dart from his mom to his dad. Dean always seems to find a way to fuck things up, couldn’t take care of Sam, couldn’t keep himself alive, couldn’t even keep the Empty from—

“Hey, birthday boy.” Jody’s voice somehow reaches Dean through his darkening thoughts, and he comes back to himself in stages, focusing on the warmth of her hands on his shoulders. She stands behind the couch, leaning down to squeeze his shoulders. “Wanna get some air?”

He nods blindly and climbs numbly to his feet. Jody guides him efficiently out the door and points Dean in an arbitrary direction. They walk for what could be moments or hours as Dean plows through the morass in his mind. 

“I get it,” Jody finally says. 

Dean glances sharply at her. 

“I still have random panic attacks sometimes, wondering if Alex is safe at the hospital, if this is going to be the hunt that gets Claire.” Her eyes are fixed on some point in the distance, and he gets the feeling she’s deliberately not meeting his eyes. “I check on Owen every thirty minutes on my bad nights, and I have to lay hands and eyes on Sean to convince myself he’s really there before I can calm down. It always takes me a minute or sixty to make myself remember where we are, where everyone is, and that there isn’t some big or even small bad waiting around the corner or under the bed.”

Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets, stuffing down his automatic reassurances. The first half of his life was spent avoiding conversations like this, and it took him a long time to unlearn the knee-jerk reaction to brush off people’s concerns with some variation of “Everything’s fine.”

Jody, with an awareness born of decades of hunting and parenthood, senses his discomfort. She slows her steps and catches Dean’s elbow, turning him gently to face her.

“That feeling in your gut when the happiness comes, the panic, that knowledge deep, deep down that everything good is bound to turn to shit.” Jody reaches out and wipes a trickle of moisture from Dean’s face.

It’s not raining, he thinks, frowning. Where the hell did that come from?

“You're going to unlearn it. You’re the toughest bastard I’ve ever met, Dean, and you've been through literal hell. If anyone has earned their happiness up here, it’s you. You’re allowed to be happy, and someday you’ll know it.”

Dean would love to reply right now, to contradict Jody. He’d love to remind her of all the bad calls he made, of all the torturing he did in hell, of all the lies he told... 

But this knot in his throat is choking him. And still Jody persists.

“I know how goddamned stubborn you are, but you’re not stupid either. We have nothing to forgive you for. Maybe once you’ve talked to everyone on your list, you’ll see that, too. But in the meantime, take a deep breath, give me a hug, and at least say in your head that you’re allowed to enjoy yourself at your own damned birthday party, even if you can’t admit it out loud.”

And if the damp patch on Jody’s shoulder bothers her as they stroll back to Dean’s house to grab a couple of beers, at least she’s tactful enough to not mention it.

...

Jake takes care of his family. He’s a fairly serious, empathetic toddler, quick to kiss other’s ouchies. After receiving his first Elmo bandage, Jake insists on bandaging his stuffed puppy’s tail, his tyrannosaurus rex’s left eye (“He fight with stegosaurus,” Jake solemnly informs Samantha as he presses the adhesive strip in place), and then an old, almost-healed shaving cut on Betty’s left knee. 

“Mama better now?” Jake asks, somehow managing to sound strictly professional and absurdly adorable at the same time. He looks up to Betty for approval, and she wonders how she manages to let him touch the ground at all with how much she just wants to hold him all day long. 

“Mama so much better now,” she informs him, careful to stay serious. He rewards her with the golden smile that is the highlight of her days before rushing off to find someone else he can fix up. 

Both Betty and Samantha marvel in his quickness to share his snacks. They never refuse an offered Cheerio from him, no matter how damp or sticky (though a few of those disappear quickly when Jake’s attention wanders). 

The discussion over a first pet is fairly quick and decisive. Everyone agrees the pet must be something fluffy that can be cuddled. Betty vetoes anything smaller than a cantaloupe, citing her clumsiness and tendency to step on things that should never be trod upon. Jake vetoes cats, saying he just doesn’t trust them, and Mommy and Mama share one of their silent conversations before Samantha speaks up.

“A puppy it is, then, Jakey. Let’s go look up some good breeds.”

Their first pet is a rescue named Garth, at Jake’s adamant insistence, though they're still not sure where he learned that name in the first place. Garth is clumsy, awkward, easy-going, and the most spoiled and cared for pet in the neighborhood. 

Jake’s little sister Tabitha comes along shortly before his fourth birthday, and he takes to big brotherhood with an authority and self-assurance that delights every stranger the family meets. When she eventually starts walking, Jake is right by her side, guiding each one of her toddling little steps while a beaming Mommy and Mama follow close behind.

No one is even a little surprised when Tabby’s first whole word is “Hake.” She masters the letter j eventually, but continues to refer to his big brother by the name she gave him for most of the rest of their lives. Jake doesn’t even pretend to be annoyed.

“It was just a matter of time,” Samantha says one night, as she and Betty are getting ready for bed one night not long after Tabby has given Jake his new moniker. “You know what I mean?”

Betty, who has known exactly what Sam means since the day she literally tripped over her future wife at university, smiles and turns down the covers on her side of the bed. 

“That’s Jake,” she says. They’ve spent hours, discussing their son’s odd, charming quirks long into the night, offering up phrases like “old soul” and “wise,” and eventually realized nothing they said could ever completely encompass the loving little person they somehow managed to bring into the world.

“That’s Jake,” Sam agrees, and turns her version of Jake’s golden smile on her wife. Mischief sparkles in her eyes, and Betty wonders how she ended up with three people in her life that she absolutely cannot win against. 

“Ready to get sweaty, Betty?”

Betty groans but can’t hold back her grin. “You are the absolute worst, and that is exactly why I love you.”

…

Sam manages to shock Dean when he insists on a big family Christmas. His extra years on earth apparently helped the younger Winchester warm to the idea of holidays, finally getting to enjoy them with his son as he never did during his own childhood. 

Sam doesn’t have to try very hard to talk everyone into celebrating. Things have been calm and serene, more than a little on the uneventful side, and Dean figures it will add some variety to his afterlife. Something to plan, something to look forward to that won’t be crashed by murderous Elder Gods or various other supernatural entities. 

Probably. 

Dean secretly loves that feeling of finding the perfect present for someone, something he was never really in a position to do back on earth. He takes a deep breath, proactively reminding himself that this is okay, this is allowed, this is good, that everything is not only okay but actually kind of great, really.

He can be happy. He can. He can do this. 

 The shade of red Sam’s face turns before he finally dissolves into laughter is a thousand percent worth the degradation of actually gifting someone a signed vinyl copy of Celine Dion’s first solo album.

“It’s perfect, Dean. Thanks, man.” Sam pulls his brother into a hug, and his giant paw slapping Dean in the middle of the back literally knocks the panic right out of him. Deans huffs, at a loss for words, and hugs Sam back perhaps just a smidge too forcefully before letting him go.

“You’ll never top Sapphire Barbie for best Christmas present, but this runs a close second.” Sam shakes his head, still grinning as he reads over the back cover of the album while Mary and John look on, varying levels of confusion and amusement on their faces.

“What’s he talking about, Dean?” John asks. He takes a long drink of his whiskey. “Sapphire Barbie? Some kinda code word or something?”

Sam and Dean glance at each other, their shoulders tensing automatically. For a moment, Dean can actually feel the phantom hunger pains transposed over the current fullness of his belly, and he can see a tiny Sam (still way more hair than necessary), huddled despondent and hungry under a shitty, moth-eaten motel blanket, convinced there would be no Christmas. 

“Dean, uh...accidentally got me a Barbie for Christmas one year, it was — a, uh — yeah, he wanted to make sure I got a present, so he grabbed it, and…” Sam trails off. 

John huffs a confused laugh, and Dean’s hackles rise at the scoff, so like Sam’s and yet so much more...condescending. John rises from the couch and goes to refill his glass. Sam seems content to let the moment pass, but something in Dean’s gut, something latent and ignored since his heavenly ascension, sparks and smolders bitterly. 

“How the hell do you ‘accidentally’ get somebody a Barbie?” John asks, still chuckling, and Dean suddenly realizes he’s real fucking tired of biting his tongue.

“I stole the Barbie. Stole a couple of other things, too. A Christmas tree, some decorations, a baton.” 

Mary glances between her sons, confused, before turning to John. “Where were you while this happened?” 

A parade of emotions march over John’s face: confusion is followed by slow recognition. Guilt makes a quick appearance only to be chased away by dull, ashamed anger. 

Dean can practically see John’s mind flashing through the scenario, recalling more about the hunt than his own sons on that cold, nasty Christmas Eve. He knows the instant his dad reverts to default setting of laying the blame on his eldest son. Dean braces himself automatically, his body viscerally reacting to the familiar storm on his father’s face.

Dean has the fleeting thought that at least his dad is drinking from a glass now; ought to hurt a lot less than being hit with a whole bottle.

“You left your brother to go steal from somebody else’s home on Christmas? After what happened with the shtriga?” 

Dean knows true anger, near rage, for the first time in heaven, and the bitter wash of it through him is cutting and all too familiar. 

“Pretty stupid thing to do, I know, but I wasn’t even twelve yet, so I wasn’t making the wisest of decisions.”

“Not even twelve?” Mary cuts in. “Sam? Does anybody feel like explaining this to me?”

“What the hell were you thinking, Dean, anything could have—” 

But Dean had a lifetime of being plowed under by his dad’s inability to take responsibility, has had way more than enough of shouldering the blame for shit he should never have been left with in the first place.

“I was thinking that somebody should get a seven-year-old something for Christmas, should make sure he has enough to eat. Where were you, Dad? What were you thinking? Because you sure as hell weren’t thinking about us.”

That knot starts up in Dean’s throat again, the muscles tightening against the fear that blossoms in his chest, echoed from decades of training. Sam’s hand finds Dean’s arm, and Dean looks to him. Instead of the caution or reproach he’s expecting, though, all Sam simply nods. 

“Say it, Dean.”

Dean stands slowly, facing John Winchester with every bit of strength he’s built, every bit of courage he’s earned from a lifetime of terror, and realizes that the angry, bitter man before him is no more a threat to him anymore than Chuck is. And without looking, he knows Sam stands behind him, solid and resolute.

“I wasn’t even twelve. It was Christmas, and you abandoned us. Yeah, I stole Sam a Barbie doll. You know what I got for Christmas that year? The year before? Every fucking year before that for almost as long as I can remember?”

John opens his mouth, even now unable to admit his faults, but Dean barrels on before his dad can get a word out.

“Not a damn thing from you. Not one damn thing. Not presents, not food, not a warm place to sleep or a word of thanks or approval. Not even a fucking phone call to say Merry Goddamn Christmas.” Dean pauses one last time, and it suddenly feels like he’s towering over the man whose shadow always felt too dark, too large, too suffocating; the man whose respect he used to crave more than food and water. 

“What about me, Dad? Huh? What about me?”

Dean doesn’t recall leaving his parents’ house, doesn’t remember driving home, but he finds himself on his own front porch, leaning forward in his rocking chair. He takes in a long, deep breath before scrubbing his hands through hair and leaning against the back of the chair.

A breeze rifles the leaves of a nearby tree, ruffling Dean’s hair. He taps his thumb against the arm of the chair and takes a long moment to breathe in the night air. 

Dean lets his thoughts roll around for a while. The stars creep slowly across the black, the crickets chirp, and the breeze continues to tickle through Dean’s mussed hair. 

“You and I could write the book on shitty dads, am I right, kid?”

He’s not sure why he decides to talk to Jack. Just nice to have someone to talk to, knowing they’re not going to talk right back.

“Could just cut him out. Dunno how that’d work in heaven.” He thinks a moment, then grins to himself. “Not sure Mom’d let me get away with that. Sam would back me up, though.” Dean grins into the somehow not-empty night. “I would be the guy that brings a family feud into paradise, huh?”

Dean takes in the wilderness around him, the empty house at his back, the extra rocking chair for...a visitor, he supposes. He has learned today that heaven, as perfect as it is, still holds anger and bitterness and loneliness, and he figures that’s to be expected. 

“You still did good, kid. You and me, we did good even with our shitty old men in and outta our lives. Glad we cut yours out for good. Guess I’ll figure out how to deal with mine eventually. All I’ve got now is time, anyway.”

Dean pushes up slowly, still surprised at the lack of cricks, pops, and aches that accompanied the action his last couple of years on earth. 

“Night, Jack,” he says into the wind. He glances over at the empty rocking chair one last time. “If you see him, tell him —just tell him—” 

Dean frowns, shakes his head, and turns his back on the night.

…

Jake’s not a crier, not really. There are inevitable tears that come with bad falls, but Jake sheds tears like it’s a physical reaction that he’s getting out of the way so he can move on. 

So when Betty goes to change the sheets in her son’s room, only to find him silently crying on the floor, she panics. Sheets flop forgotten to the side as she drops next to his, reaching instinctively for his still-plump cheeks.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“Nothing happened, Mama, I’m sorry I scared you,” he sniffles, his eyebrows down low on his small forehead. 

Jake has never lied in his entire young life, and Betty is torn because he is obviously upset about something, but his face is full of nothing but truth and confusion.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Jakey,” she says, settling on the floor next to him and opening her arms. He instantly climbs into her lap, hooking his own arms around her neck and nuzzling under her chin. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Can you tell me what made you cry?”

“I...I don’t know,” he says, his little voice quiet and heavily confused. “I was playing with Tabby, she was helping me build a tower with my blocks, and then Mommy came to get Tabby for her snack.”

Betty is stumped. Jake has never had any kind of separation anxiety, as far as she can tell. He’s spent nights with both sets of grandparents, even a couple of weekends with aunts, uncles, and cousins, and never shed so much as a single tear.

“You...are you crying because you miss Tabby? She’s right in the next room, baby, you can go with her for snack time, you know that.”

“No, Mama, I —I don’t know why I’m crying. Tabby hugged me, she said she loved me, then she went with Mommy, and I felt...really happy. Like —the happiest ever, and...it was too much happy?”

The last part comes out as a question, and honestly Betty isn’t sure how to answer it. 

“Well, baby,” she starts hesitantly, not sure where to lead this particular discussion. “Can you explain  what you mean when you say ‘too much happy’?”

He snuggles closer against her chest, his forehead pressing along her jaw. “I dunno. I think...maybe I’m not supposed to be that happy? Is that why the tears came out? Because I got more happy than I’m supposed to get? Was I wrong, Mama?”

Betty breathes slowly, tightening her hold on the little boy in her arms. “You weren’t wrong, Jake. You can be as happy as you want. There’s never too much happy, I promise.”

She feels him shift, and she looks down to meet his clear, green gaze. He studies her carefully, scrutinizing her expression, and she’s reminded why she’s always been so very careful to tell her children the truth, albeit on levels they can understand.

“You pinky promise?” 

The proffered pinky is smudged, pudgy, and absolutely perfect. Betty hooks her pinky finger with her son’s, bumping his nose gently with her own. 

“Jakey, you have my eternal permission to be as happy as you are capable of feeling. And no one is ever allowed to take that from you. Good?” He nods, and she carefully brushes the tear tracks from his cheeks. “Sometimes feelings are really big, and they’re just a little too big for your body. They have to find a way out, and that’s why the tears come out.”

“Is that why you cry when you watch the kissy movies?” he asks, suddenly smiling. “Your feelings are too big, too?”

“Yup. We’ve got big feelings in this family, Jakey. Better get used to it, kiddo.”

...

More time passes. Dean walks, he talks, he goes through the motions. He heals a little with every conversation, every time he reaches out, and even though some of the wounds feel as fresh as the day he got them, eventually all that’s left are faint scars. He’d never willingly erase the scars, anyway. He earned them, and he’ll be damned if something like a little death and talk therapy could just wipe them away.

Gradually — so gradually Dean doesn’t realize it until Donna makes a comment one night after their regular poker game — Dean learns to not only let his guard down but drop it entirely. He’s shocked to realize the loss of his emotional armor doesn’t even bother him. 

Dean works on Baby, drinks with Bobby, teaches Mary how to make an apple pie from scratch, and even manages to have a couple of honest, semi-civil conversations with his father. They don’t exactly reach Andy and Opie levels of father-son bonding, but John does eventually manage to grudgingly admit he fucked up some (a lot). Dean supposes anyone can make progress in heaven if they try hard enough. 

He’s talked to everyone he can think of, settled scores, smoothed ruffles, filled himself to bursting with absolution. Dean is so absolved he thinks he might punch the next person who pats him on the back and tells him how much good he’s done for the world.

And still, he comes home every night to that extra rocking chair. 

He waits now, waits while he talks with Sam, waits while he walks through the woods, waits while he changes Baby’s oil. He can’t shake the feeling that something is coming. He can feel it around himself, like a suit of armor or a second skin. Nothing terrible, nothing ominous, but something. Which is weird because nothing ever seems to happen in heaven, not really. 

Could be he’s just bored, but Dean doesn’t think that’s it. Not entirely.

He talks to Jack nightly now. It’s a habit, something to help Dean talk through and untangle his thoughts into something he can understand. He looks forward to their talks, being able to get his feelings out without being either validated or rebuffed. Just letting some steam off.

He’s done it for so long that he can barely remember the night he started. Dean knows Jack can hear him, but the kid’s been true to his word, stayed hands off and radio silent. He lets mortals deal with their own issues, keeping himself and the supernatural world well away. Even the angels leave people alone in heaven.

Especially the angels, Dean grudgingly admits to himself, late one night after leaving Sam’s house. Instead of going home to that extra rocking chair, he drives Baby slowly, aimlessly, yet somehow ends up back on that same bridge where he met up Sam all those years ago. 

He parks right at the end (no traffic in heaven) and strolls out to the middle, scuffing his boots and sending little puffs of dust in the air. His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets, out of habit more than anything else, and he lifts his gaze from the ground up to the full moon in the sky.

“Hey, kid,” he says softly. “Hope it’s goin good for you.Things are pretty good here. I know you know, you’re everywhere and all that,” Dean waves his hand vaguely, then continues, “Just wanted to let you know, I guess. I didn’t tell you enough, but we—I —really appreciated you. Appreciate you. You, uh...you did real good, kid. Then and now.” He pauses, then takes a breath, standing straight and letting all pretense go.“Please tell Cas...he did good, and...I miss him. And I know you’re all taking the hands-off approach, but —I dunno, maybe...he could —stop by? Or…”

The silence around Dean is heavy, comforting like a thick blanket.  

Or a tan trenchcoat, he thinks.

“Jack —“

He cuts himself off, though. He spent all this time in heaven working through rivers of bullshit, wearing down mountains of lies and self-loathing until he can finally be honest and open with everyone. And if he’s going to be honest with himself tonight, Jack isn’t who he needs to talk to.

“Sorry kid, I gotta put you on hold.”

Purgatory flashes before his eyes, that sense of loss and being lost, the desperation and certainty that he’d never see his best friend again. 

I can’t do this anymore, he thinks. I can’t pretend anymore. And I’m done lying to myself.

“Cas. Castiel. I hope you can hear me. I miss you. I don’t know where you are. Bobby said you were here, that you helped remake this place into something pretty damned awesome, but I never see you. I can feel you sometimes, can tell some things are up here just because you put ‘em there. Someone will tell a story, and I swear I can feel you standing right beside me, can almost hear you frowning and not understanding the joke. I…”

He knows there’s something left —knows he hasn’t found the right words yet. He has no idea what that right thing is, or even what he’s still waiting for, but he figures if he just barrels on, it’ll come to him. 

“There was too much in the way, back on earth, in Purgatory. Too much always coming after us, trying to kill us or worse. I got in my own damned way, never knew what to say or how to say it. Didn’t think I deserved...I should’ve…”

He’s not sure what’s more bizarre, that he’s praying to someone who probably won’t respond — probably can’t even hear him — or that he’s doing so in a place wildly opposite from that last time he prayed like this. 

Dean isn’t sure how he keeps ending up in this situation, but here he is, gasping out his feelings to the night air, barely able to squeeze the words past that perpetual knot in his throat. 

“It’s a lot clearer up here, more room to breathe and think. This heaven you and Jack made...it’s great. Hell, it’s damn near perfect. But there’s no you. And I just can’t see my heaven as right without you. I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.”

A wispy cloud, silver in the moonlight, drifts across an otherwise flawless sky. Dean stares upwards for several minutes, wondering if Cas can see the same stars tonight, wherever he is. 

“Maybe...I don’t know if you can come back. Or if you even left. I don’t know how any of it works.”

He’s on the cusp. He can almost taste the next step. 

Dean’s at a loss, though. He could be brave: he could say everything he should’ve said in that last moment, everything he should have told Cas. 

Or he could take the comfortable path, revert to being a dick and tell Cas exactly how he feels about all this silent treatment, about the no-show in heaven or not telling him about his deal with the Empty until it was too late, about waiting until the last second so Dean would have no time—

Or he could do both. 

Both is good.

Metal railings squeak under Dean’s punishing grip. He’s not sure when he grabbed hold of the bridge itself, but right now he needs all the support he can get.

“You left me! You should have told me, given me a chance. Another chance, just one more. I’m sorry, Cas, I knew but I didn’t. I— I should’ve told you, should’ve held you, I could have—“

The tears flow unimpeded, the air squeezed from his lungs in convulsive gasps, but Dean can’t stop now.

“I should have told you everything I felt, every day. I should have trusted you more, and I’m so sorry. You were always family, you were always there for me when I needed you. We both fucked up so many times, lost so much time together. I was so angry at you, at me, at everyone and everything, and I let it get in the way.”

The silence around him is maddening. Here he is, ripping his guts out in the middle of the bridge, and all he gets back is crickets and evening breezes. Dean shoves off the railing, too frantic to stay still.

“Gimme something, Cas, anything! I’m pouring my heart out! I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I swear I’m gonna do better, but you’ve gotta give me the chance! Just...just give me some sort of answer, please? Let me know you’re there!”

The silence persists. 

Just as quickly as Dean’s rage crescendos, it fizzles suddenly. He drops to the ground, back and head slamming hard against the side of the bridge as he lets out a roar of helpless rage. His fists grip his hair, teeth grinding against the wave of helplessness that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I missed my chance, I waited too long, I should’ve said— I should have—“

And then it comes to him.

His hands draw down from his hair, scrubbing his face before steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. He can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realize. 

“I’m an idiot.” His voice is barely audible, even to his own ears, but he has no doubt his words will reach their intended destination. “This place you built, you and Jack, it’s as good as it gets. I deserve it, I earned it. I got my family, I got the easy life for a while. I got my family. I had my rest. There’s only one thing left in the universe I need, only one person I want.”

Dean stands, dusting himself off and turning his face back up to the stars. 

“I’m ready, Cas. I— I love you. And I’m ready for the next thing. Whatever that is. However that is. As long as—”

One last pause.

“As long as you’re there, that’s all I need.”

...

The inevitable day of separation comes: Jake’s first day of kindergarten. Samantha is proud of her guardian warrior, knows he’s going to succeed at everything he puts his little bullheaded mind to. Betty hopes very hard that he won’t be too lonely without Tabitha there with him. Tabitha only knows that Jake’s finger tastes good and makes her gums feel better when she chews on it.

Jake, as always, approaches this monumental step with aplomb and logic. 

“I’ll give it a shot,” he says casually as his little sister gnaws on his thumb. “An’ if I don’t like it, I’ll just stay here and take care of Tabby. You an’ Mommy can go to work, then, ‘kay, Mama? I can make nut butter n’ jelly sammiches. But I’ll try it out.”

...

School isn’t so bad, Jake decides on his second day. His teacher Mrs. Harris seems to know what she’s doing (she already knows who she can trust with scissors and glue), and the other kids are nice enough. There’s different toys (“learning tools”, Mrs. Harris calls them), so that’s interesting enough, but—

Something is missing.

“Can you tell me what you mean, Jakey?” Betty asks at dinner that night. “Are there supplies you need? We got everything on the list.” She wipes a smear of sweet potato off Tabitha’s face before looking back to her son. His mouth is turned down in a frown of concentration, like he’s trying to remember something.

“I don’t need anything, Mama, just...someone. I need someone. My friend hasn’t come to school yet.”

“It takes time to make friends, baby,” Samantha says. “It’s only the second day of school. Have you tried asking anyone to play yet?”

“Yeah, and they’re fun and all, but they aren’t my friend. My friend isn’t here yet,” Jake says. Then his frown vanishes with the sudden mood change of a five-year-old, and he turns beseeching eyes on Betty, aiming unerringly at the softer target. “I finished my green beans. That means dessert now, right, Mama?”

Jake decides on the third day that the best place to wait for his friend (he just knows he’s going to show up any day now) is the playground.

“My friend likes the playground,” he murmurs. “That’s good, I like the playground, too.” He eats his lunch slowly, watching the other kids wolf down their food so they can have extra playtime. He’s barely finished his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, though, when he’s distracted by movement on the other side of the play yard. The door to the school opens and the school secretary steps out. Then she turns and gently pulls someone out from behind her.

A small boy stands in the doorway, white shirt tucked neatly into black slacks. His blue tie is a little loose, as if he’s been tugging on it, and his tan jacket is a little too big, hanging loosely around his small frame. His hair looks like someone was in too much of a rush to comb it properly. He clutches a pink piece of paper in one hand and, in the other, a backpack inexplicably decorated with flying, winged slices of pizza. 

“Late drop-off, parent had to run,” the secretary tells Mrs. Harris before tiptoeing out of the room. 

With an anxious glance at the other children, the boy scuttles forward and immediately trips over his own untied shoelaces.

Jake is at the little boy’s side before anyone else can react, kneeling down to check on him. The prone child is too shocked to cry, both by the fall and by the sudden appearance of this unknown factor. Jake checks him over, then nudges him until he sits up. 

“You gotta keep ‘em double tied,” Jake says seriously. “Or else that’ll happen all the time.” Without waiting for an answer, Jake sets about the laborious task of looping each set of laces in turn, rabbits chasing each other around trees and down holes until the shoes are secure.

Jake climbs to his feet and reaches down, gripping the other boy’s shoulders and helping him stand. A dark smear of jelly stains the shoulder of the coat in the shape of a smudged purple handprint.

“Thank...thank you,” the smaller boys whispers. He lifts his eyes hesitantly, and clear blue meets olive green for the first time. “I’m Chris.”

“I’m Jake.” He thinks for a long moment, frowning. Something is settling in his chest, something big and permanent and scary; at first he thinks it’s too much. 

Then he thinks back to what Mama told him: you can be as happy as you want. 

He smiles at Chris. “You’re with me. You’re the one I was waiting for.”

Hope and just a bit of delight flicker across Chris’s eager face. 

“I am? You mean it?”

Jake nods and grabs his new friend’s hand. “Yep. Now you’re here, that’s all I need. And nobody's allowed to take you from me, Mama said so. C’mon, let’s play cars.”

[spicymayo1983]

Hiya. This is part 4 to my flirting with disaster series. It wasn't supposed to be this long but I keep coming up with ideas. Lol.

You are now nearly 6 months pregnant. Poe has spent those months nurturing and caring for you and his unborn child.

You're both nervous but excited at the same time. You still feel rough but Poe makes the pain melt away with his massages, kisses and gentle caresses.

As the two of you prepare for the arrival of your little one amongst a time of galactic turmoil you can't help but feel pangs of guilt for bringing a new life into the unrest.

What will life be like for you and your little family?

Warnings, smut, oral sex, childbirth, not for anyone under 18.

Flirting with disaster part 4

You're having a baby boy. You've both seen 4D scans and holograms of your little one. He's active, healthy and strong and ahead in development. It's clear that he already strongly favors his gorgeous father.

You are both experiencing waves of emotions. Excitement one moment and then fear the next. Poe is concerned that you're going to have a difficult delivery.

Both of you have been talking about getting married.

He wants to do it before the child is born but you want to wait until your son is older.

Poe is not 100% okay with your decision. This is causing a slight rift in your otherwise great relationship.

If he had it his way the two of you would immediately be married. But you're not ready just yet. You are still feeling rough and you don't feel like going through even the smallest wedding ceremony.

Late one night you are both relaxing in bed, nude. Poe is laying next to you, gently caressing your breasts and your large belly.

"You look so beautiful tonight". Poe tells you as he gazes deeply into your eyes. "I can't wait for him to be here".

"It's been rough but we're on the home stretch". You reply as you gently guide his hand lower. "He'll be here in just a few months".

"Mmmmm you're feeling frisky tonight, aren't you?" Poe whispers into your ear as he gently fingers your wet slit. "I want to eat you out so badly and then make love to you".

Poe's head immediately dips down below your stomach and he begins to gently kiss and suck on your swollen, wet labia.

You spread your legs for him and he gently slips his tongue inside of you, you arch your back and moan from delight as you grind into him and cum.

When you're ready for him you relax on your side and Poe gently enters you, kissing and nuzzling your neck as he gingerly makes love to you.

"I could stay like this forever, inside you". Poe whispers into your ear. "Your body feels like home to me".

"Oh Poe you feel so good too". You whimper softly.

He plants some soft, wet kisses on your neck as he cums with a light moan.

The two of you quickly fall asleep, nude with your bodies entwined. Poe kept a protective hand on your belly all night.

The beautiful moment is shattered, however, when you are awakened early the next morning by what feels like contractions.

"Poe! Wake up!" You shout as you slowly sit up and nervously shake him awake out of a sound sleep.

"Huh? What is it?" Poe replies, his voice sounding groggy and his eyes popping open.

"I think I'm having contractions". You explain, fighting back tears. "I need to see a doctor".

Once at the hospital wing of the rebellion base the doctor examines you and explains that you were experiencing false contractions.

The baby, and you, were both doing fine, much to everyone's relief.

As a precaution you spend the rest of the day in bed. Poe pampers you with foot rubs, full body massages and cuddles, lots of cuddles.

You're drifting off to sleep again when you feel the baby kicking, Poe is next to you, already sleeping peacefully when you gently nudge him awake.

"He's kicking, Poe". You tell him with a smile.

Poe immediately wakes up and places a hand on your belly, the little butterfly kicks make him smile.

Feeling his first born son's kicks render him speechless. He's in absolute awe, he's seen and experienced many things but this tops everything.

"Wow, just wow". Poe says with a slight laugh. "The little guy sure has some legs on him, what does that feel like?"

"It feels like a tiny little foot kicking the wall of my uterus". You explain, smiling. "It doesn't hurt, it just feels unusual".

Poe tenderly kisses your belly and whispers,

"This is your daddy, and it's way past your bedtime, young man".

You both laugh as the kicking promptly comes to a stop.

"You just got lucky, Dameron". You tease.

You enjoy the last few months of your pregnancy. There are many more moments just like that one, you had no idea Poe had such a nurturing, caring side to his personality.

You have your birthing plan set. You want to have the baby at home with no medication and a doula on hand to assist you if there are any complications.

The two of you want an intimate birth, with as little medical assistance as possible.

You go into labor right on schedule, early in the evening. Poe massages your back, holds your hand, and kisses you tenderly through the entire ordeal.

"I don't know how you can do this". Poe says with a slight smile as he holds you in his arms. "If I were in your position I'd want every medication on the market".

He is lying in bed with you, cuddling you, massaging your back while you are in active labor. The two of you have been like this for several hours already.

You couldn't have asked for anyone kinder or more supportive.

This is what you wanted, you wanted to give birth in his strong, loving arms. With all of the unrest, war and horror going on in the galaxy you wanted your son to at least have a beautiful start to his life.

With a loud wail your son, Maxim Bey, comes into the world. There are no complications and both of you are doing great. He's beautiful, with a full head of dark hair and dark eyes. With tears streaming down his face Poe kisses you tenderly and says,

"He looks just like me, y/n".

You are shaking and crying from a mixture of relief and emotion. You can't believe you did it. When you sit up the doula hands you your swaddled and cleaned up baby boy, his eyes are closed and he's still crying a little.

You stroke the top of his little head, admiring the thick hair.

Poe leans in and kisses him on the forehead, Maxim calms down almost immediately and wraps one of his Itty bitty hands around his father's thumb.

From the start it's clear that Maxim is daddy's little boy.

"I can't wait to teach him how to fly". Poe says with a slight smile and tears in his eyes as he cradles his son in his arms.

"He needs to learn how to walk and talk first". You quip, laughing a little.

"Now will you marry me?" Poe asks, a tender smile appearing on his face.

"Of course, stupid". You reply, leaning in and kissing him.

"Can we have 10 more kids?" Poe teases, gently rocking little Maxim, his face beaming with love and pride.

"Only if you could carry most of them". You tease, giggling a little and leaning over to kiss him on the lips.

"Daddy loves you so much". Poe coos, giving his newborn a little kiss on the cheek. "And daddy loves mommy for having you for me, she gave me such a special gift".

The end

[wlwdarlingcharming]

Hii do you have any bios for your eah oc's?? I'm so interested to know more about them!!!

yes my dear <33 these are very messy and i tried to keep some outline but oh boy did it go downhill after godiva.

elias wykkyd, son of the wicked witch of the west and the good witch of the south: he/him/they/them. bisexual. wants to protect the family secret (their mothers were not supposed to get together and if grimm found out, he would lose his shit) but his sister’s outbursts make it very hard. he’s very stressed all the time and would benefit greatly from a nap. they like to hangout with raven queen and thinks she’s pretty chill. he loves the other oz kids, but sometimes they are too much for them. he really, really doesn’t want to fight his sister or try to kill rowan. they don’t know that his destiny is to be the next good witch of the south. rebel.

godiva southgood, child of the wicked witch of the west and the good witch of the south: she/her/fae/faer. lesbian. very crazy. loyal to faer brother, but to no one else. has a “it’s me or them” mentality. believes she’s the hero and everyone against her is a villain. has too much power and probably (definitely) doesn’t use it for good. wishes her brother would understand what fae’s going through instead of blaming fae for everything. has a crush on farrah goodfairy. fae doesn’t know that her destiny is to be the next wicked witch of the west. royal.

rowan gale, son of dorothy: he/him. ace & gay. he’s passionate about photography and is on the bookball team. he never knew his mom, because he was taken away from her as a baby (👀). besides the ozians, he’s very close with alistair wonderland and would go far as to say that’s his best friend because he understands how hard it is to be a leading man. rowan is very scared for his destiny, because he doesn’t want to fight elias (godiva) and almost die. rowan is very sure of himself and has a god complex mixed with deep insecurity. people look up to him which defintely fuels his ego, but it makes him feel more insecure himself because “what if i just disappoint everyone more?”. he also feels like a disappointment to his mom but aggressively covers that up with false confidence. he gets bored easily and looks uninterested a lot. he doesn’t mean to, but school just can’t capture his attention. his destiny is to be the next dorothy gale. roybel.

valora de lioncourt, child of the cowardly lion: she/her/they/them. bi disaster. local furry. GORGEOUS. hangs out with cerise, ramona and rosabella. will do anything that anyone asks of them. gets into many hijinks with the other oz kids. plays for the lacrowns team and is surprisingly good. everyone always assumes she’s really shy and scared all the time (which in their opinion gets really annoying), but she’s very confident in herself. their destiny is to be the next cowardly lion. royal.

tinnafy manns, daughter of the tin man: she/her. panromantic asexual. total party girl. doesn’t sleep, ever. gets called a robot a lot and it hurts her feelings. hangs out with briar, melody and siobhan. close with her dad, but he doesn’t approve of her party lifestyle. rebel.

felix crowfield, son of the scarecrow: he/him. pansexual. coolest guy ever. literally so chill. how does he do it? it’s because he has dealt with godiva and elias’s screaming matches for years and has learned to tune them out. he loves creating costumes, as well as acting, and is apart of the ever after high players. doesn’t want to be the next scarecrow and would much rather make costumes thank you very much. his destiny is to be the next scarecrow. rebel.

lilith whiteford, daughter of the white queen and the white knight: she/her. ace lesbian. badass knight princess. has a cold exterior, but once you get through that, she is one of the most kind and caring people. loves her brother and her parents. loyal to a fault. wanted to be the next white knight of wonderland, but later decides she wants to date the future white knight of wonderland (one darling charming). was taught by her parents to never speak unless spoken to, so that’s how she talks to others. people think she’s just a scary knight princess, but she’s really not. secretly a huge nerd. older twin. royal.

lysander whiteford, son of the white queen and the white knight: he/him (ftm). gay. sad boy. sad, rich boy vibes. makes everyone think he believes he’s above them, but he is so insecure about everything. he wants to be the next white queen (king) more than anything. doesn’t like his mother or his father, but loves his twin lilly. he pretends to be a pompous jerk to everyone, and it pains him to act that way, but it’s the only way he knows how to talk to others. younger twin. royal.

coraline sirenowitch, child of the sea witch: she/her/they/them. lesbian. egirl energy. looks mean, is actually very nice. very, very powerful. besties with faybelle, actively tries to avoid meeshell. hates forks with a burning passion. (coraline: they’re like tRiDeNtS, fAyBelLe) likes to make their own jewelry. vegan. their destiny is to be the next sea witch. rebel.

eira nordskov, daughter of the snow fairy: she/her (mtf). bisexual. oh BOY she is my BABY. her story has developed wildly over the past year. she’s very shy, has limited snow powers and loves ballet and ice skating. friends with justine and duchess. she loves sugar plums (much to siobhan’s dislike). gets very angry really quickly, which causes some mild changes in weather. hate hate HATES her roommate, crystal winter and they have the biggest rivalry. has the biggest crush on nathaniel nutcracker (who i have also adopted from the books). her destiny is to be the next clara. royal?

siobhan plumfairy, daughter of the sugar plum fairy: she/her/they/them/he/him/xe/xem. the coolest out of the nutcracker kids. hangs out with briar, melody and tinnafy a lot. basically only talks to nath, cordelia and eira because they’re all childhood friends. IS the life of the party. wants to be anything other than the sugar plum fairy. has a good control on xer magic, but uses it to make decorations, clothes and lights for briar & mel’s parties. very insecure about their wings and doesn’t like to talk about her parents. uses his “cool girl” connections to get himself things. rebel.

cordelia mouse-king, daughter of the mouse king: she/her. very smart when it comes to sciences. likes to make potions and other concoctions in chemythstry and prides herself on getting good grades. likes to talk to cupid, because cupid’s old school is near where her cousin mouscedes lives. also friends with ashlynn and dexter. very short and small, but can be very scary. has a bad relationship with her dad, and usually spends break with her cousin or siobhan. super awkward around nathaniel and doesn’t like when they all hangout. rebel.

nathaniel nutcracker, son of the nutcracker: he/him. disaster bi. LOVES DANCING. absolutely loves ballet and literally any type of dance. good friends with justine. mostly hangs out with the other nutcracker kids. very uppity and preppy. scared of cordelia’s dad and refuses to hangout with cordelia outside of school, which makes group hangouts really awkward. royal.

jocelyn “jj” hook, daughter of captain hook and the big bad wolf: she/her. pirate lesbian. mostly hangs out with ramona, cerise and winnie. (as well as the hypothetical ever after high fight club) thinks of little red as her mom. refuses to talk to jamie (her mom). has a pirate ship. rebel.

winona “winnie” darling, daughter of wendy darling: she/her. bisexual. badass pirate queen. in love with jj and would fight anyone for her. hypothetical head of ever after high fight club. short queen. very shy, but once you get to know her you won’t be able to get her to shut up. rebel.