One of my biggest nitpicks in fiction concerns the feeding of babies. Mothers dying during/shortly after childbirth or the baby being separated form the mother shortly after birth is pretty common in fiction. It is/was also common enough in real life, which is why I think a lot of writers/readers don't think too hard about this. however. Historically, the only reason the vast majority of babies survived being separated from their mother was because there was at least one other woman around to breastfeed them. Before modern formula, yes, people did use other substitutes, but they were rarely, if ever, nutritionally sufficient.
Newborns can't eat adult food. They can't really survive on animal milk. If your story takes place in a world before/without formula, a baby separated from its mother is going to either be nursed by someone else, or starve.
It doesn't have to be a huge plot point, but idk at least don't explicitly describe the situation as excluding the possibility of a wetnurse. "The father or the great grandmother or the neighbor man or the older sibling took and raised the baby completely alone in a cave for a year." Nope. That baby is dead I'm sorry. "The baby was kidnapped shortly after birth by a wizard and hidden away in a secret tower" um quick question was the wizard lactating? "The mother refused to see or touch her child after birth so the baby was left to the care of the ailing grandfather" the grandfather who made the necessary arrangements with women in the neighborhood, right? right? OR THAT GREAT OFFENDER "A newborn baby was left on the doorstep and they brought it in and took care of it no issues" What Are You Going to Feed That Baby. Hello?
Like. It's not impossible, but arrangements are going to have to be made. There are some logistics.
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being a jujutsu sorcerer and a parent rarely ends well. sorcerers who have to fight for their lives everyday barely have any time and energy even for themselves. adding babies to the picture is hard to imagine.
but gojo was determined to balance his work and personal life when you entered his life, which is why he has a baby girl strapped to his chest as he holds up his hand and crosses his fingers, already to send a special grade curse into his domain.
"daddy~" his baby babbles, cheek squished against his purple uniform.
"yes, baby?" gojo smiles down at his baby and gently sweeps her hair out of her eyes. he pays little to no attention to the curse, who had already spread out their domain and is currently sending wave after wave of attacks, all of which gojo repels with a touch. "this is domain expansion," he gently explains to her, smirking at the curse who is obviously offended that he wasn't taking them seriously. "in a second, you're gonna see daddy's domain."
his baby blinks and shuffles around in the strap, whining a bit as she tries to get comfortable. for all she knows, it's too dark and hot and she misses mommy's smell.
before she knows it, the space around her begins to look like the night sky, and she can't see the curse anymore.
"this is my domain," her daddy says, but she misses seeing the sun. why is it nighttime all of the sudden?
"nooo" she whines as she kicks around. where's the ice cream he promised her earlier? and where is mommy? she doesn't want to go to sleep yet!
"not easily impressed, hm?" he laughs, protectively holding his baby's head against his chest as he closes up his domain after finishing off the curse.
"let's go get ice cream, yeah?" he ruffles her hair and holds up her hands, dancing them up in the air with a huge grin. the sunlight hits her face again and a smile quickly reappears. "you did so good today. did you learn a lot about jujutsu fights today? did'ja enjoy our little adventure together?"
"ice cweam" she smiles, doing a few happy kicks. and that's how the tradition of getting ice cream after missions started for the daddy-daughter pair.
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The day his deal comes due, Sam goes missing.
Dean tells himself it’s nothing, that he’s gotten caught up in some research, some last ditch, hail mary nonsense and that he’s just turned his phone off and everything’s fine, that he wouldn’t do something stupid, that he wouldn’t break his promise.
He tells himself that for the first two minutes after he cracks his eyes open and sees the empty bed across from him, and the first time his call goes straight to voicemail, and not much after that. Sam’s broken his promises over things significantly less important to him than his brother’s life.
Dean is dressed and in the Impala five minutes later, heart thudding wildly in his chest. He calls Bobby, Ellen, everyone he can think of, but none of them have heard from Sam, none of them have eyes on him. Sam was with him last night, even if he boosted a car, there’s only so far he can get.
He keeps calling, keep searching, desperate to stop whatever he’s trying to do, to find him, to see his brother one last time before he’s dragged to hell. To make sure Sam is going to be okay after he’s dragged to hell. But the hours tick down, the sun sets, and he can’t find a trace of him. He’s so exhausted and heart sick that when he goes to call Sam again it takes him a long time to read the number on his phone, eyes swimming, the time not making any sense.
1:03
That’s not possible.
That’s not –
His phone rings, blocking out the time with Bobby’s name across the screen, and he answers it but his throat is too thick to say anything.
“Dean?” Bobby says tentatively. “Are you – I got an email from Sam. It just said, I mean, did–“
“What did it say, Bobby?” he asks, even though he’s sure he knows.
Bobby sucks in a breath at his voice, because he knows just as well as Dean that he should be screaming in hell right now, not answering his phone. “To take care of you.”
Dean drops the phone, hears Bobby still talking as he grips the wheel and presses his forehead against the back of his hands. This is what he’d been afraid of. This is why he hadn’t wanted to mess with the deal in first place. This is the one thing he’d begged Sam not to do.
It's easy to find a crossroad.
The demon is laughing at him when it shows up, wicked grin in a pretty face. “That didn’t take you long, boy.”
It’s a different demon than the one he delt with, obviously, but Dean figures they all know the same shit, since demons are a bunch of gossips. “This wasn’t the deal. My brother lives and I die.”
“You traded your soul for your brother’s life,” she corrects, so amused by all this that all he wants to do is kill her, to exorcise her, to make her scream. “Just like your father traded his for yours. There’s no reason Sammy can’t make his own trade. Man, but is your family fucked up. Maybe if you’d just settled down like little Sammy wanted, you wouldn’t all be bargaining for each other’s lives like haggling at a flea market.”
“Untrade it,” he snaps. “My soul for him alive, come on, no year, no waiting, you bring him back and take me to hell right now.”
She laughs in his face. “You don’t have anything to bargain with, boy.”
“My soul,” he repeats, “That’s what this is about, isn’t?”
“Oh, it’s what it’s all about,” she says. “But Sammy’s a clever boy. You know that, don’t you? He didn’t trade his soul for your life, he didn’t have to. You didn’t die. No, he traded it for your soul. Sorry, honey, but your credits been declined.”
At first he doesn’t understand. Sam traded his soul for Dean’s, exactly, so there’s no reason he can’t trade it right back. Then he gets it.
She sees the exact moment it clicks, the moment despair and horror sweep across his face too quickly for him to stop them. “That’s right. Little brother owns your soul now. For some reason he didn’t think you’d take proper care of it. You have it because that’s where he wants it, but no one will be making any deals with you, Dean Winchester. You can’t sell a soul you don’t own.”
“You can’t,” he has to clear his throat, “you can’t just come in and change things at the eleventh hour-”
“Eleventh hour?” she interrupts. “Sammy made his deal eleven months ago.”
His mouth is so dry he can’t speak.
“Isn’t it funny?” she asks, head cocked to the side. “All this time, the deal he’s been trying to get out of wasn’t yours, but his own. Maybe the two of you might have even managed it, except you just wouldn’t help, would you? Insisting that he not research, that he not look for a way out, and he spent so much time trying to convince you, coaxing you to talk about your feelings when he knew you were safe, all he because he thought it would make you feel better when he was gone, because he couldn’t tell you the truth and talk about how scared he was, so talking about your fear was as close as he could get.”
Dean’s going to be sick. “Don’t – please, please, I’ll give you anything-”
“You don’t have anything,” she says, gleeful. “You want to know why I agreed? The thing that made it just too delicious to refuse? Sammy’s down there, just starting in on an eternity of torture, and all he has to do get out of it is give up your soul. It’s his, after all, and he can put the original deal back in place any time he chooses. Just one moment of weakness on his end and his beloved big brother will be on the rack instead.” She sighs happily. “It’s almost as good as anything we’re doing to him down there, the knowledge that if he slips up for even a moment then it would all be for nothing. I couldn’t have found a way to twist the knife deeper if I tried.”
There’s vomit crawling its way up his throat and he has to swallow it down before he can speak. “I can’t – I’ll do whatever you want, please, there has to be something.”
She leans forward, cruelty and delight shining in her eyes. “The only thing you can do is what you’ve been telling your precious baby brother to do for the past year. Accept it. Move on. Live a good life so his sacrifice isn’t in vain.”
God. How can she – how can Sammy expect him to –
He’s doubling over, finally upchucking what little he’s ate today, and he’s dry heaving on the dirt when he hears the fading sound of her laughter.
This can’t be real. This has to be Hell, he has to be in it right now. He has to be.
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