#my mom does not seem to want to do that part.
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cutielando · 3 days ago
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my baby | l.n.
synopsis: in which you bring your son to his daddy’s first ever race
a/n: based on this request!! i changed things up a little and only made it fluffy, hope you like it!!
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Ever since your son was born, you and Lando had had multiple talks regarding exposing him to the world and bringing him to the paddock.
He was still so little, being only a few months old, so there was a lot of discussion between the two of you about when would be a good time to finally introduce your son to that part of Lando’s life.
You debated a lot about firstly which race would be the best one for him to attend, finally settling on Silverstone. It was a very special race for the both of you, it was Lando’s favorite race weekend, his whole family would be coming and would be able to eagerly help, should any situations arise during the weekend, you were close to your UK home.
It was honestly the best decision in that aspect.
McLaren had been so kind as to send you some little T-shirts with Lando’s name and number on the back, some headphones so you could protect Noah’s ears. He was all ready to go, all clad in his papaya shirt and little cap.
However, as much as Lando had been looking forward to finally having the both of you in the paddock since Noah’s birth, he was suddenly feeling more anxious as you’re about to leave the house and go to the track.
You noticed the frown he had on his face and how deep in thought he seemed to be, walking over to him with Noah right on your hip, sucking on his pacifier in silence.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” you asked him, putting a hand on his shoulder and rubbing it affectionately.
“You agree this is a good idea, right? We’re not rushing him into this, it’s completely okay and safe to bring him with us” he asked, looking at you with worried eyes.
Looking at him so desperate for reassurance, you remember your first days as a new mom, worrying about every single thing that Noah would do, what you should do with him and what you shouldn’t, calling your mother and Lando’s mother every half an hour with another question.
It’s normal for new parents to be anxious, and Lando was now feeling the protectiveness that came with having a baby of your own and bringing him out into the world.
“Baby, we’ve talked about this. We have it all figured out. Your family is going to be there if anything does happen, we have your whole team there who are more than eager to help with anything. We’ll be fine, this little guy will have the time of his life” you said, smiling at the quiet boy in your arms and bouncing him in your arms, chuckling alongside Noah as he started to giggle and wave his arms in the air.
Lando smiled, looking at Noah like he was the center of his universe, like nothing could ever measure up to how much love he had for his son.
He was ready, so there was no reason why Lando shouldn’t be ready. After all, he had you by his side.
He didn’t need anything else if he had you.
“Alright, let’s get going then” he declared, sitting up and taking Noah’s bag from you, determined to carry everything to the car by himself.
You chuckled, shaking your head as you adjusted little Noah on your hip.
“Let’s go and bring daddy some good luck, shall we?” you cooed at Noah, admiring his little smile and clap when he heard the word “daddy” in a sentence.
Such a daddy’s boy.
♡♡♡♡♡
“Do you want me to turn the car around and just take you guys home? I’m sure nobody would mind” Lando said as soon as he parked the car in his designated spot.
You looked at him confused.
“Why? Did something happen?” you asked, keeping an eye on Noah who was currently too busy playing with his feet to pay attention to the two of you.
Lando sighed, resting his head against the seat and closing his eyes.
“I just think we’re rushing into it. He’s still young and I’m worried that something could happen to him while I’m in the car” he confessed, and you let out a knowing sigh.
“I know you’re stressed out and worried, but you have nothing to worry about. I’m going to be with him the entire time and your entire family is going to be with me. He literally can’t be more taken care of” you said, joking a little at the end to help him breathe a little.
Lando smiled, chuckling a little before twisting around to look at you in the backseat.
His eyes naturally gravitated towards Noah, who was happily playing with his McLaren teddy bear the team had gifted Lando when Noah was born.
“Sometimes I wish we could keep him away from all of this for the rest of his life” he said, his eyes focused on his son.
"I know, but right now, you don't have to worry about him. You know I won't let him out of my sight" you said, making Lando smile at the thought of you going all mama bear on your son.
"Alright then, off we go" Lando unbuckled his seatbelt, exiting the car and opening your door for you.
He made quick work to grab the diaper bag and all of his essentials while you lifted Noah up from his car seat and settled him on your hip, cooing at the smiley little boy.
"Ready?" Lando asked as he came to stand next to you, putting his arm on the small of your back and leaning down to press a kiss on Noah's head.
"Are you ready to see dada race?" you cooed at Noah, tickling his tummy lightly, which prompted him to burst into giggles.
“My lucky charms” Lando whispered, looking at the two of you with so much love.
He truly couldn’t have asked for anything better in his life. The trophies, the wins, the losses, they didn’t compare to this. To you, to your son, nothing could ever compete with how much Lando cared for his family.
As you started walking towards the paddock entrance, your passes clutched in Lando’s hand, you kept Noah close to you, trying to shield his face from the cameras as best as you could.
You softly maneuvered his head so his face was buried into the crook of your neck, which Noah immediately complied with because he loved it when you held him close.
“I’ll do my best to hold them off” Lando whispered as he scanned your passes and already noticed the hoard of paparazzis that were waiting for him to arrive.
You nodded, smiling politely at the cameramen as Lando quickly walked with you towards the McLaren hospitality.
Clicks and flashes could be heard all around you, every single one trying to get a glimpse of your baby boy, but Lando was having none of it.
“Lando! Over here!”
“Is that your son?”
“Can we see him? Just a picture”
Every single word fell on deaf ears as Lando continued to lead the three of you away from them, thankful when the shouts ceased and there was nobody around you anymore.
“They sure know how to try and get what they want” you said, letting out a big breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding in.
“It’s an invasion of privacy, they should have some respect, especially when they can see I’m with my family” he grumbled, his jaw muscles clenched.
You slowed down your walk until you came to a halt, resting your hand against his cheek.
“Hey, we’re okay. Calm down, we’re both fine, okay?” you said, waiting for an answer as Noah started squirming in your arms.
“Yeah, I’m good” Lando replied after finally feeling himself calm down a tad, resuming your walk towards the hospitality.
When you arrived and entered the building, the first thing that you saw was Lando’s family eagerly chatting amongst themselves, clearly waiting for the 3 of you to finally arrive.
You didn’t even get to think about anything before Noah was taken from your arms by Lando’s sister, Flo, cooing at him and beaming at the smiley boy.
There was nothing more pure and warming than seeing the bond between Lando’s family and your son. He was also the first grandchild on your side of the family, so that little boy was as spoiled as one could be.
“How are you doing, dear?” Cisca snapped you out of your thoughts as she came to stand next to you, Lando having gone to his driver’s room to unpack his things.
“I’m okay, a little tired from the jet-lag, but doing alright. A little nervous to have Noah here with me, but you all being here puts mine and Lando’s mind more at ease” you said, giving your mother-in-law a side hug.
“Was he terrible when you were talking about coming with Noah?” she asked, smiling knowingly.
You laughed, shaking your head affectionately at how well she knew Lando.
“He freaked out about 4 times before we even got out of the car” you said, making the woman laugh.
Lando emerged into the room again, immediately frowning once he saw that Noah was still not back in your arms.
Both you and Cisca watched as his eyes searched the entire room for him, finally settling on the boy happily babbling to his auntie Flo, Lando immediately going over to them.
And as you all sat there with each other, both you and Lando realized what a great support system you had and what a perfect family you have built together.
His win, of course, only solidifying his saying that you were both “his lucky charms”.
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inkedinshadows · 3 days ago
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The Path To Healing
Pairing: Azriel x f!reader
Summary: A glimpse into different moments of Azriel's life: from his childhood trauma to the physical healing, from his struggles and his acceptance to the beginning of his mental healing journey.
Warnings: angst, self-hate, self-consciousness, violence and blood, mentions of torture, language, fingering (brief)
Word count: 8.9k
A/N: I might or might not have cried while writing some parts of this. I focused only on Azriel's hands, and I'm sure I only scratched the surface of what his trauma is. I'm nowhere close to an expert on any of this, but I tried my best and hopefully did it justice. @azrielappreciationweek
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Pain was all he knew.
His eyes hurt from crying, and he desperately wanted to rub them, but he couldn't. He couldn't, because his hands… His hands…
More tears poured down his already puffed cheeks, and his cries turned into a choked sound—sobs that tore through his chest and shook his little body, his wings a dead weight on his back.
“Shh,” his mother murmured, her voice soothing, her touch gentle as she cupped his face. “It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay, baby.”
Azriel didn't know how to believe her. It seemed to him like nothing could ever be okay again. He couldn't feel his hands anymore—they had been replaced by a blinding pain that reached up to his elbows. All he could see when he looked down was a red splotch, too red to be normal.
When his father had heard his screams, he’d called the healers. By then, it was too late, and the damage was already done. But his father had merely given his half-brothers a disappointed look and dumped Azriel in his mother's care, as if he had become even more of a burden than before. He didn't know what he had done to deserve it.
His mom began to hum a lullaby, but Azriel could barely hear it over his sobs and whimpers. She took one of his shaking hands in hers as gently as she could, touching his marred skin when strictly necessary, but even that drew a shriek from him.
“I know, baby,” his mother whispered as she began wrapping his hand in new strips of clean fabric. “I know it hurts. But I need to bandage it so it can get better, okay?”
Azriel tried to hold back his cries of pain as she worked. He tried to focus on her face and the lullaby instead, but he kept praying through it all—to the Cauldron, to the Mother, to whoever was listening—that it would be over soon. Just like he had begged and prayed while his half-brothers had burned him, but no one had come then.
Now, though, his silent prayers were answered.
“There you go, my love,” his mom said softly, placing a kiss on his forehead. “All done. See? Does it hurt a bit less now?”
He looked down to find his hands covered in white linen. The tight bandages applied just enough pressure to reduce the pain, even if only by just a fraction. He met his mother's concerned gaze and nodded weakly, watching as the corner of her lips twitched upward. It didn't help much, though, and tears still streamed down his face.
“Come here,” she whispered, gathering his shaking body in her arms and holding him close to her chest. “My precious boy. You'll get through this, Az. I promise.”
Azriel buried his face in her neck and cried until he was too exhausted to do even that. But his mom never stopped singing him an old Illyrian lullaby, rocking him back and forth as if he were a newborn baby.
She kept going long after he fell asleep.
~~~~~~
Azriel was staring at his hands, at the ridges of his new scars. He knew he should be practicing, but he could only stare.
“What is it, sweetie?”
His mother came up beside him. His father had allowed her to see him a bit more over the last few months, not wanting to spend money on healers more than once every other week when they came to check on him and his progress.
Azriel turned his hands over, now looking at the backs of them. He still wasn’t used to seeing them like this. How much time had he spent looking at them? During those long hours in his cell with no light, he had thought about them endlessly.
Sometimes, he could swear the darkness whispered in his ear, soothing his mind until he finally fell asleep.
“They're ugly,” he said. His voice was flat, as if he was simply stating a fact. Because that's what they were to him—ugly, ruined, useless. Always shaking and itching.
His mother's soft hands enveloped his smaller ones in a gentle hold. “Look at me.”
He obeyed, meeting her tender, reassuring gaze. Even at his young age, he knew she loved him. His stepmother never looked at him like that, on the rare occasions she even bothered to acknowledge his existence.
“Your hands are not ugly, my child,” his mom assured him. Her tone was calm, but there was a new resolution etched onto her features. “They've just been through a lot.”
Azriel shook his head. “They're ugly,” he insisted. “No one else has hands that look like this. They're full of scars and cuts and…”
His voice trailed off as his mom extended her wings behind her. A twinge of pain crossed her face, and she could only unfold them a few inches, but it was enough for Azriel to see the twin long scars running down their length. He didn't know how she got them, but she once told him she couldn't fly because of them. He’d felt an odd sense of relief at that, knowing his mom couldn't fly either—that her blood, like his, urged her to take off and roam the skies, yet neither of them could.
“Do you think my wings are ugly, Az?” she asked. She still spoke with that soft tone, but it was now tinged with firmness.
Azriel immediately shook his head. “No,” he answered. “No, they're not ugly.”
“But they have scars. They're ruined and useless.” How had she known those were the words he used for his own hands? Had he said them out loud? “What are wings for, if not for flying? Yet I can't fly anymore.”
He shook his head again, more firmly this time. “Mom, no,” he said, decisive and unyielding. “Your wings are beautiful. You're beautiful.”
Her face softened, a smile blooming on her lips as she gently squeezed his hands. “Then your hands are beautiful too.” She lifted them to her lips, kissing each one. “Think of them not as reminders of pain, but of strength. You've suffered a lot, but you're stronger. You're healing. And one day, it won't even hurt anymore.”
Azriel was silent for a long moment. “Is it really like that?”
“Of course, baby,” she reassured him, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair.
He knew she was lying. He saw the pain on her face when she moved her wings. They still hurt sometimes. But he believed her anyway, because he needed to.
His mother let go of his hands and picked up the pen he had discarded just a few minutes ago. “Do you think you can practice a little longer?”
Azriel didn't want to. His fingers had gone stiff earlier, the constant itching even stronger now. But he didn't want his hands to be useless, so he took the pen from her.
Almost two sheets of paper were covered with just one word, repeated over and over. His own name. Easy enough to write, yet the letters were crooked and shaky, the ink smeared where his hand had accidentally trailed over it.
With a sigh, Azriel set the pen on the paper and tried his best to keep his hand steady as he resumed the exercise.
~~~~~~
Azriel really wanted to get laid.
There was no other way to say it. Every time he heard Cassian and Rhysand talk about a new girl they had slept with, he felt a pang of jealousy. He wanted to experience it too—to know what it felt like to have that kind of connection with someone and not have to resort to his own hand whenever he couldn't ignore his need.
But he had always been too shy to approach the pretty girls his brothers chatted up so easily. His hands did nothing to help his confidence.
Tonight, though, was bonfire night. Organized twice a year, it was held on the Spring and Autumn Equinox to celebrate the new season. And this year, Azriel had every intention of going home with a girl.
His brothers were laughing and pushing each other as they walked through the muddy streets of Windhaven. He wasn’t paying much attention to what they were saying—something about their earlier fight during training. No, Azriel’s mind was already focused on his plan.
He would keep a safe distance from the fire, where no incidents could happen. But he would scan the crowd of Illyrians for a female who caught his interest, and when he found her, he would approach her, talk a little, and then ask if she wanted to go somewhere more private.
Simple enough.
He was a warrior in training, after all. He had seven Siphons. He was a Shadowsinger.
He had nothing to fear from interacting with girls.
Yet, he couldn't recall the last time he’d started a conversation with a female. In the ten years he'd been at Windhaven, it had probably happened only with Rhys's mother. But she didn't count.
Someone bumped into Azriel, and, lost in his thoughts as he was, he almost fell to the ground. He managed to flare his wings to steady himself, glaring at Cassian as he regained his balance.
“Sorry about that,” Cassian said, though his snicker didn't make him sound particularly sincere. “I've been talking to you for two minutes, but you didn't hear a single word. What's going on?”
“Nothing,” Azriel mumbled, folding his wings behind him again. “Maybe you're just not worth listening to.”
Cassian gasped audibly, clutching his chest in mock heartache as a group of children sprinted by, headed for the square where the first booms of laughter and echoes of chattering rang out.
“Don't worry, Az,” Rhys chimed in before their brother could come up with a retort. “You'll get your first taste of sex tonight.”
Azriel shrugged off the hand Rhysand had placed on his shoulder. “Don't look in my mind,” he nearly growled, checking his mental shields just to be sure.
Both his brothers halted their steps and stared at him, twin shit-eating grins on their faces.
“I didn't,” Rhys said. “But thank you for confirming my suspicions.”
Cassian nudged him with an elbow, already teasing him about girls and first times and wingspans. With a snort, Azriel shoved him away and continued toward the bonfire, leaving the other two behind to push each other around, their chuckles chasing him down the street.
How they had guessed what he was up to, he didn't know. He’d been careful not to tell them, knowing their reaction would consist of snickers and jabs that he was in no mood for.
As he turned the corner, the square came into view. Just like every year, the bonfire stood in its center, rising several feet high and adorned with little homemade trinkets meant to bring good luck and a prosperous season when burned.
They would light it soon.
The square was already packed with people when Azriel reached it. Children ran around chasing each other, their laughs and screams echoing into the night. Warriors gathered in small groups, swords on their back and knives at their thighs or hips, not letting their guard down even during a festivity.
And then there were the females. Most sat together in a corner, chatting idly and glancing at the children from time to time. But some of them—the younger ones, the ones around Azriel's age—strolled in groups of two or three.
How was he supposed to approach them if they were always together? It was difficult enough when they were alone.
Azriel spotted Cassian and Rhys from the corner of his eye and moved deeper into the crowd, choosing to stand on the opposite side of the square from them. The last thing he needed was for his brothers to make fun of him.
Someone shouted a warning, and a moment later, the pyre was lit. Azriel flinched as flames erupted, pressing himself closer to the wall behind him. Even from this distance, he could feel the heat of the fire, warming his skin and casting a flickering glow all around.
He shut it out. He shut out the memory of what fire could do to flesh, the smell of burned skin, the screams and cries of a terrified eight-year-old boy. The shadows suddenly swirled around him, brushing against his arms and neck.
Past. Gone. Gone. Just memories.
Azriel closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, letting the truth they whispered calm his racing heart.
He sensed the girl before even the darkness could murmur of her approach.
He let his shoulders slump a little and slid his hands into his pockets, assuming a more casual stance. When he opened his eyes, she was watching him from a few feet away. Her head snapped around to stare at the bonfire as soon as she realized she'd been caught staring.
Azriel couldn't suppress his smirk. He had grown accustomed to females looking his way from the moment he’d hit puberty, but it still made him feel smug every time. Never mind that they didn't approach him—or that he never approached them.
But now, though. Now he would.
Taking one last deep breath, he took a nervous step toward her. And then another. She glanced in his direction, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, but one more step and Azriel was standing in front of her.
A few inches shorter than him, she didn't back away, her big brown eyes meeting his hazel ones. Her delicate face was framed by strands of wavy black hair that flowed past her shoulders, and he stopped himself before his eyes could travel downward to the curves shaping her slim body. She was pretty. Beautiful, even.
“Hi,” he said, attempting a smile. He wasn't sure it looked right.
The girl offered a small smile back. “I'm, uh… I didn't mean to stare. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “It's alright.”
For a brief, awkward moment, they just stood there, looking at each other. Then Azriel realized she was waiting for him to say something more. Right.
“What's your name?” he finally asked, silently thanking the little shadow that had curled around his ear to whisper the suggestion.
“I'm Teagan.” The girl's smile widened. “And you're Azriel.”
Caught off guard, he blinked. “You know me?”
Teagan chuckled, a clear and crystalline sound that eased some of the tension in Azriel's body.
Some of it.
“I've seen you around,” she answered with a shrug. Firelight danced on her features. “There aren't many Shadowsingers here, you know. None, in fact. You're one of a kind.”
Her initial shyness seemed completely gone now. Good. That made one of them, at least. Because if her words were meant as flattery, they didn't work. Instead, they only made Azriel more nervous.
What if she had expectations? What if she started asking questions about his powers? What if she would be disappointed now that she was talking to him? What if she—
Azriel cleared his throat, trying to clear his mind at the same time. “Thank you,” he said.
Too stiff. Too short. Not an acceptable answer. But he didn't know what else to say. How was he supposed to talk to a girl when he’d barely had any social interaction for the first eleven years of his life?
But Teagan must have found his awkwardness endearing, because she smiled, amusement shining in her eyes. “Aren't you going to offer me some food?”
A blush crept up his cheeks as he glanced over to the few tables laid with food in one corner of the square. People were already gathering around them and filling their dishes. Cassian was there too, shamelessly flirting with a girl whose hands were already wandering over his chest.
Azriel turned back to Teagan and nodded, a shy smile forming on his face. “I am, actually.” He cleared his throat—as if it could help him sound more confident—then gestured to the tables with his head. His hands remained buried in the pockets of his coat. “Would you like to get some food?”
It came out too formal, and his posture was too rigid. And simply nodding toward the tables? Rude. How could Rhys do this so smoothly? How could Cassian be so bold and smug?
Teagan chuckled again, though. She looped her arm through Azriel's and steered him toward the food. “You've never done this before, have you?”
He almost choked. It was worse than he'd feared, then.
“No, not really… I…” His voice trailed off, and he had no idea how to recover.
She leaned in closer as they walked, and Azriel became acutely aware of just how close she was. Her body pressed against his side, and he could feel her breath on his neck now. He wanted to take her hand, or maybe even slide his arm around her waist. If only he had worn gloves, maybe he would have dared. Though he'd need to find the courage first.
“Am I the first girl you try to flirt with?” she asked, her tone teasing.
Try. Not just flirt, but try to flirt. He was failing so miserably. Maybe he should just give up and leave.
Azriel could only nod, his face a deeper shade of red than Cassian’s siphons.
“I think it's cute,” Teagan said, her big smile lighting up her pretty face. “I'm glad you chose me to be your first.”
If only she knew what kind of first Azriel hoped she would be… but judging by how things were going, he suspected they wouldn’t get that far.
“I… don't really know what I'm doing,” he admitted, unsure why he was even saying that. It probably wasn't a smart move to reveal it, but it was too late to take it back.
As they weaved through the crowd, Teagan stepped even closer to him, and in doing so, her wing brushed against Azriel’s. They both gasped, and though she smiled sheepishly, he didn’t miss the mischievous gleam in her eyes.
“Sorry,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I just wanted to be closer to you. I really think you're cute. And I appreciate your honesty.”
Azriel smiled warmly, his heart thumping in his chest. He could still salvage this, maybe, so that his first interaction with a girl wouldn’t be a total failure.
As they stopped in front of the tables, he stepped back slightly to face her. “I think you’re cute too,” he said, meeting her gaze. He did his best not to sound shy or awkward. “You're very pretty.”
Her face lit up. “Thank you, Azriel.”
He was about to offer her some food when a group of kids suddenly weaved through the crowd and ran by. Azriel heard them coming and tucked his wings tightly, but Teagan either noticed them too late or couldn't fold her clipped wings any further.
The children bumped into her as they sprinted past, and she sucked in a sharp breath when one of them brushed her wing. Azriel was quick to grab her elbow to steady her, and something fluttered in his chest when she smiled in thanks. But then her gaze moved to his hand, still on her arm, and her eyes widened—in horror or shock, he couldn't tell.
He pulled his hand back as fast as he could, tucking it back into his pocket.
Too late.
Teagan swallowed, and the silence that stretched between them hit Azriel as painfully as a punch to the jaw.
“So,” he said eventually, feeling beyond awkward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “What kind of food would—”
“I'm sorry,” she interrupted, already taking a small step back. Her eyes darted to the pocket where he’d hidden his hand before looking at him again. No warmth shone in them now. “But I forgot I had to… do something very important with my friend. Maybe another time.”
Azriel stood there, watching her turn and walk away without another glance. The rejection left him reeling. His mother could say whatever she wanted about his scars not being ugly or horrifying, but he now knew better than to believe her.
His hands balled into fists, and he took a deep breath, flexing his fingers. Without bothering to inform his brothers—who were probably on their way to sleep with yet another girl, since their hands were perfectly normal and unscarred—Azriel left the square. He put a few buildings between himself and the ongoing festivities before taking off to the skies.
He didn't return until long after the sun had set over the horizon.
~~~~~~
Azriel wished he could say he felt at least a bit bad for his half-brothers as Rhys and Cass threw punch after punch at their jaw and stomach. But all he felt while watching the scene unfold was a deep sense of satisfaction, which only grew with every new groan.
When Rhys had told him he needed to talk to his father for court matters, Azriel had refused to go. He had no interest in seeing his father or the rest of his family again, and Rhys had understood, asking Cassian to accompany him instead.
But Azriel had followed them. There was no reason for Cass to be there too, not when he was no good at playing courtier. He doubted Rhysand's father had told him to bring Cassian along.
Hidden in the shadows in the corner of the room, Azriel watched in silence as his brothers—his real ones, the only ones who mattered, as far as he was concerned—landed blow after blow. He knew now this was the real reason they'd come here.
Cassian had been itching for a fight from the moment they arrived and he didn't do a good job at hiding it. Azriel wasn't sure Cassian even tried to hide it. Rhys looked more composed, the perfect picture of the future High Lord dealing with minor problems of his Court. But as soon as Azriel's father had left, both of them had turned to his half-brothers with pure rage in their eyes.
One of them had been either bold or stupid enough to smirk. “How's our bastard brother doing?”
Rhysand and Cassian had both snapped. Despite being a few years older, his half-brothers didn't stand a chance. A warm feeling of affection was the only thing filling his chest as Azriel watched the two Illyrians who had taken him in, taught him how to fly, and showed him what a real family looked like, beat the shit out of whom was supposed to be his actual family.
He didn't make a sound, using his shadows to conceal even his scent. They were all too busy to pick up on it, even more so now that the metallic scent of blood filled the air, but he preferred to be careful.
Azriel didn't know exactly how much time had passed when Rhys and Cass finally relented, their chests heaving and their knuckles smeared with red. They straightened their backs, Cassian’s wings still spread in a fighting stance. Rhys, on the other hand, looked more relaxed, but his cold expression betrayed him.
“Don't you dare speak of him like that again,” Cassian snarled. His voice was just slightly breathless despite the beating he'd just given. “Especially after what you did to him.”
Azriel fought the urge to look down at his scarred hands. Being back in his father's keep was enough to stir memories he had long tried to forget. Instead, he focused on his brothers, on how much they must love him to risk hurting and threatening the sons of an Illyrian lord because of what they'd done to him.
Rhys exchanged a knowing glance with Cassian, and they turned to leave, abandoning his half-brothers on the floor. But they stood with a groan, battered and bloodied, still as arrogant as before. If not more so, now that they needed to make up for their bruised ego after being beaten so easily by a half-Illyrian and a low-born bastard.
One of them, the oldest, flared his wings as if trying to appear more intimidating. “He deserved it,” he spat.
Azriel had to stop himself from lunging forward and burying his own fist in his half-brother's stomach. He wanted to make him understand, to wave his hands in front of his face and yell at him. See this? This is what you did to me. I was eight! How could I have deserved it?
But he remained still, standing in the corner with his hands balled into fists so tight that his nails dug into his palms.
Rhysand held back Cassian as he tried to pounce on Azriel’s half-brothers. Cassian looked outraged, as if he couldn't understand why he suddenly wasn't allowed to fight. But Azriel could see the expression on Rhys's face and knew his brother had something different in mind.
“You think Azriel deserved it?” he asked, his voice unnervingly calm. He looked a lot like his father now—aware that he didn't need to raise his voice or his fists for people to obey.
“Well, fortunately for you, I can't show you exactly what I think you two deserve,” Rhys continued, slowly slipping his hands into his pockets. “But I can at least give you a taste of it.”
Before anyone could move, a crack pierced the air, immediately followed by a sharp cry of pain as his half-brothers both collapsed to the ground once more. Their legs lay beneath them at strange angles, the bone of one protruding where it had pierced the skin. The scent of blood grew stronger as the white tiles turned red.
His mother would have disapproved, Azriel knew that. She believed vengeance should not be sought out, and that living well in spite of what had happened was more than enough. Perhaps she was right, and Azriel was as bad and cruel as his half-brothers, after all. But as he stood there, watching them bleed and whine and scream for a healer who didn't come, all he felt was a deep sense of satisfaction, knowing that they now felt a fraction of the helplessness he had felt when they burned him.
Cassian crossed his arms, a feral grin spreading across his face. “Stop crying, boys,” he taunted. “It's not like you won't heal.”
The corner of Rhys's lips curled into a smirk. “I put a shield around the room. No one can hear you or smell the blood. I think I'll leave it in place and let you crawl out to ask for help.”
With a glance to Cassian, Rhys gestured toward the door in a silent command, and they walked out without sparing the two Illyrians another glance.
But Azriel stayed a few more moments. Just long enough to see his half-brothers try to rise, fail miserably, and fall back on the floor. When they began to crawl, using their hands to drag themselves across the floor, smearing their blood over the tiles and their clothes, Azriel smiled.
He didn't care if they were spouting insults at him and his brothers. He didn't care what kind of person that made him. The sight of his half-brothers crawling and bleeding delighted him.
With one last look at them, Azriel winnowed away, his heart full of love for the two brothers the Cauldron had blessed him with.
~~~~~~
It felt like centuries had passed since Azriel had last been this nervous around a girl. It had likely been over a hundred years, if not more, since he couldn't recall the last time he went on a date. Even longer since he’d had a genuine crush. Normally, he just approached girls, or they approached him, and things quickly escalated into a night of sex. But it was nothing more than that—just fucking.
With you, it was different.
He met you a couple of weeks ago when he walked into your little bookstore to buy a present for Nesta's birthday. You were so nice and radiant that he couldn't stop thinking about you, and he lost count of how many times he came, buying books he didn't need and asking for recommendations only to listen to you talk. And then he had finally asked you out, and your smile had lit up the whole shop as you said yes.
He was standing on the other side of the street, watching as you closed up the store for the day. Your dress flew around your legs in the evening breeze, and your hair was styled in a simple bun on your head.
Azriel smiled as you crossed the street. As usual, he had to hold back his shadows as they swirled excitedly around him. “You look lovely,” he said when you stopped in front of him.
“Thank you,” you replied quietly, lowering your gaze for a second before looking at him with a smile. “You're not too bad either.”
He chuckled softly. “Thank you.” Offering his arm, he gestured to the street. “Shall we?”
You looped your arm through his, and together you strolled along the Sidra, your steps unhurried.
Conversation flowed easily, and Azriel relaxed more as you talked about everything from your job to his preference for flying over winnowing. His shadows, which had lingered around his wings, vanished completely. But then you got to the little restaurant where he had reserved a table, and he grew nervous once more.
Even with your arms linked, your focus never drifted to his hands during the walk. Your eyes were either on him or your surroundings, making it easy to forget his marred skin.
Until you sat across from him and the food arrived. There was no way now you wouldn't notice his scars, which normally wasn't a problem—he'd stopped caring about strangers' opinions years ago. But you weren't a stranger, and you weren't just another girl he wanted to fuck.
You were sweet and beautiful, and he was drawn to you in a way he hadn't experienced in decades. He didn't want you to run away from him.
Maybe he shouldn't have taken you out to dinner on the first date, because now it was probably going to be the last one too.
Yet you didn't stare at his hands. You acted as if everything was normal, never commenting or asking what had happened to him. You carried on the conversation just like before, and when Azriel, hiding his distress behind a carefully crafted mask, asked you about a theater play you'd just mentioned, you launched into a passionate description of its plot and themes. His uneasiness slowly faded as he watched your eyes light up. You leaned closer over the table, so engaged in your story that Azriel found himself smiling and nodding along, only half listening, his worries about his hands momentarily forgotten.
Your voice suddenly trailed off mid-sentence, and you leaned back in your chair, tilting your head to the side. “What?” you asked with a soft smile. Before he could answer, you tensed and added, “I've done it again, haven't I? Rambling on about something you don't care about.”
Azriel shook his head, his hand itching to reach across the table and brush yours, though he held back. “Y/N,” he said, his voice quiet and reassuring. “I do care. I asked you that question. You just had that look on your face.”
Your brow furrowed. “What look?”
“The one you have when you talk about something you like,” he answered, watching your expression grow confused for a second. “You have it when you talk about books too.”
You were quiet for a moment, and then your eyes narrowed slightly. “Azriel,” you said slowly, but your lips twitched up in a smirk. “Did you ask for all those recommendations just to hear me talk?”
“Maybe,” he conceded, a faint blush creeping up his neck. His heart fluttered as your eyes met, and he couldn’t help but smile back.
He’d forgotten having a crush could feel like this—like being a boy again. Only now he knew what to do.
He’d never been much of a talker, preferring to listen and chime in occasionally, but with you, it was easy. You had your own way of involving him, asking questions or simply waiting for him to share his thoughts. Even though you barely paused, Azriel never felt like you were hogging the attention. On the contrary, you made him more at ease.
After you left the restaurant, you went strolling through the streets of Velaris. Azriel was just about to answer your question about how fast, exactly, an Illyrian could fly when you let out a delighted squeal, grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward a small bakery.
“Oh, I was waiting for this place to open!” You stopped in front of the window with a dreamy sigh before turning to look up at him. “I forgot it was today. Can we go in? Please, tell me you like pastries!”
Your enthusiasm was endearing, but Azriel couldn’t help glancing down at your hand still holding his larger, scarred one. You didn't seem to notice—or if you did, you didn’t care.
Your grip loosened slightly as you noticed the shift in his attention, but you didn't let go. “Sorry,” you said quietly, your eyes searching his face. “I got a bit carried away. Is this alright?”
He wasn't sure what to say. The lump in his throat made it hard to speak. That you had grabbed his hand without thinking was enough to leave him speechless, but what you were asking now… it wasn’t just that you weren't bothered by his scars. It was that you wanted to keep holding his hand. Azriel couldn't wrap his mind around it.
You probably misunderstood his silence because you started to pull back. He immediately held your hand tighter, gently squeezing it, as if to silently reassure you. “No, it’s okay,” he said quickly, his voice softer than usual. “I’m just…” Not used to it. “You caught me off-guard, that’s all.”
“I caught the spymaster off guard?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Should I be worried? Do we need to inform the High Lord?” 
Azriel shook his head with a soft chuckle, his gaze lingering on you before he gestured toward the bakery. “Would you still like those pastries?”
Your eyes lit up, and Azriel made a mental note of how much you liked sweets. “Oh, yes, please!”
“Then let’s get you some, shall we?”
You walked past him as he held the door open for you, a grateful smile lighting up your face. Your hand remained entwined with his, and for once, Azriel didn’t feel the need to hide it.
You did not let go until he walked you home and you closed the front door behind you, and Azriel had never felt such lightness as he flew back to the House of Wind.
~~~~~~
Azriel sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands with a grimace on his face.
Someone had tried to infiltrate Velaris, likely sent from the Hewn City, and Azriel had been called to find out why. He could still recall the blood and the pleading whimpers. But in the end, he got the information he wanted. He always did.
At a cost.
He had long since learned to keep a cold expression, even in the face of the suffering he caused. He was used to it after centuries, and as long as it kept his city and family safe, he didn't care how cruel he had to become. Maybe it made him a horrible person, but his soul wasn't the cost.
The cost was his hands.
Even after all this time, being in the cells beneath the Hewn City was like being back in the cell in his father's mansion. He had to shut down every part of him that felt, bury those memories deep down in his mind, and remind himself that he wasn't a helpless child anymore.
He was a five-hundred-year-old warrior, and he had a job to do.
But once the job was done, and Rhys decided how to deal with the prisoner and the consequences, Azriel would go back to his room knowing he didn't have much time.
He would wash his bloodied hands, though he knew no matter how much he washed, he could never cleanse them completely. He had five centuries worth of blood on them. After they were clean, if he was lucky, like today, he had time to peel off his leathers before the inevitable happened.
The pain.
No matter how many times he’d been in those dungeons, no matter how many years had passed since he’d last been locked in his father’s cell, he still didn’t know how to stop the pain from returning.
It wasn’t as bad as it had been the first few times, and it was nothing compared to what he had felt while his hands were being burned and in the days after. But Azriel still gritted his teeth, a low hiss escaping from him.
He tried clenching them into fists, but the relief lasted only a few seconds before he had to relax them again. His fingers were stiff as he reached for the drawer, a fresh surge of stinging pain hitting him when he pulled it open. Shadows dove in before he could and quickly whisked up a small jar of white cream. They undid the lid, and Azriel felt grateful for the dark companions that had never once left his side now more than ever.
Willing his hands to cooperate, he scooped up some of the soothing balm a healer had made for him. It always took a little while for its effect to show, but pain was an old friend he had learned to live with.
The herbal scent filled the room as Azriel did his best to spread the balm over every inch of his hands, trying to ignore the stinging itch. Scratching would only make it worse, reddening his already scarred skin until it threatened to bleed again.
He shifted to lie on the bed, wings spread beneath him. He just had to endure the ache for a few more minutes before the balm took effect, and then he could try to sleep. He needed some rest after such a long day, if only to have a clear mind when he met you the next afternoon.
As his shadows hummed in his ear the Illyrian lullaby his mother used to sing him as a child, Azriel let his eyes drift close, flexing his aching fingers every few seconds, hoping for a faster relief.
~~~~~~
Things moved slowly with you.
Neither of you wanted to rush into anything and potentially ruin what you both knew could be the beginning of something great.
You went on several dates, and some ended with him spending the night at your apartment, snuggled up in your bed, which was too small for an Illyrian. Azriel didn’t care as long as he got to fall asleep with you in his arms.
But things had never gone this far.
When he came to your bookshop earlier, he had only planned to walk you home. You were tired from a long day dealing with customers, and he had to wake up early the next morning to leave for Illyria for a few days. Maybe it was the thought of not seeing you—even if only for a week—or the fact that you looked stunning in your simple dress, with strands of hair escaping from your messy bun. Whatever it was, Azriel wanted you. He needed you.
His lips parted from yours, both of you already breathing heavily. “I don't want to go home,” he murmured, his hands on your hips, twisting the thin fabric of your dress, wishing it weren't there.
“What do you want to do then?” you asked, amusement clear in your eyes. But there was desire there too, mirroring his own.
“I want to take off your dress,” he whispered, his fingers already moving to the straps on your shoulders. “Will you let me?”
“Yes,” you breathed. “Take it off.”
With deft fingers, he slid the straps down your arms, and the fabric slipped off your body, pooling around your feet. You stepped out of it, and Azriel swallowed at the sight of you clad only in your cream underwear.
“If I had known we'd be doing this, I would have worn something more enticing,” you said quietly. There was no shyness or embarrassment in your voice, as if you were simply stating a fact. You did have a point—your lingerie was simple, something you wore every day. It didn't matter to Azriel.
He shook his head, stepping closer to you. “You don't need to,” he murmured. His hands cupped your face, tilting your head up to kiss you tenderly. “You're always stunning, sweetheart, no matter what you wear.”
You hummed, a smile playing on your lips. “Now I want to know what you think when I'm not wearing anything.”
Azriel chuckled, even as desire coiled in his groin. A part of him wanted to toss you on the bed and fuck you senseless. But most of all, he wanted to take his time exploring your body, finding every spot that made you squirm and sigh. Only after he'd thoroughly tasted you would he bury himself inside you.
“Let's find out,” he replied with a smirk, already knowing that, no matter what, you'd always be perfect in his eyes.
He reached behind you to unclasp your bra, and as he tossed it on the chair, he felt himself harden. Your breasts were full and supple, your pink nipples so inviting that he wanted to wrap his lips around them. Yet as he lifted a hand to touch you, he hesitated.
The stark contrast between your soft, smooth skin and his scarred fingers made him pause. He had touched you before, but never so intimately. How could he do that? His hands had so much blood on them. With how they looked, it felt only fitting he would use them for horrible things—to hurt people. Not to touch the wonderful girl he was falling for. How could he be so selfish as to sully you like that? You deserved so much better than him. Someone who didn’t torture and kill for a living, who didn’t have a dark past still haunting him.
Someone good.
He took a step back, lowering his hand.
“Azriel,” you called gently. There was no sign of judgment or disappointment in your voice. You just wanted him to look at you.
Slowly, his eyes met yours. To his astonishment, a soft smile bloomed on your lips.
“It’s alright,” you murmured, taking his hands in yours. He fought the urge to pull away. “You can touch me. I want you to touch me.”
He wanted to. More than anything. He wished he could.
“I shouldn’t,” he whispered.
“Why?”
How could he explain? He never told you what had happened to him. He didn’t want you to pity him or, even worse, to drive you away. Selfishly, he wanted to keep you in his life.
When he didn’t answer, your fingers slid around his wrists. Neither of you spoke as you lifted his hands to your mouth and kissed each scarred palm. Azriel’s throat worked, his heart pounding in his chest. Without a word, you placed his hands on your breasts. You let go of his wrists, giving him the freedom to pull away if he wanted to. But your eyes never left his, and that soft smile never faltered.
Azriel swallowed hard. For a moment, he just stood there, not pulling away but not moving either. Your face was open and serene, as if his scars didn’t bother you, even now that they were touching such an intimate part of your body.
Seeing you like this, so calm and accepting, so soft and warm under his palms… his thumbs moved, brushing over your nipples. You shivered, and he couldn’t stop himself from doing it again, feeling the small buds harden under his touch.
As if sensing his impending question, you nodded slightly. “You can touch me, Az.”
Though he knew it was wrong and still didn’t understand how you could want his bloodied, scarred hands on you, he gave you what you wanted—what you both wanted.
He slid one hand behind your neck, pulling you closer and kissing you again. The other remained on your breast, kneading the soft flesh, savoring every small sigh that escaped your lips. You leaned into him, your fingers tangling in his hair, deepening the kiss until Azriel’s control hung only by a thin thread.
When you pulled back, you didn’t give him time to lower his mouth to your neck. You grasped his hand, gently moving it away from your chest, and a wave of fear tightened in Azriel’s stomach. You had changed your mind. Of course you had. He should have seen it coming.
But instead of stepping away, you guided his hand down. Between your legs.
His breath caught as his fingers brushed against your panties, feeling the already damp fabric beneath his touch.
“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice almost too quiet to hear. “Are you sure?”
You were smiling again. “Yes. Please, Az.”
He didn’t know how to say no. He knew he should have, that he was unworthy of touching someone so pure and lovely. But you had already pushed the fabric aside, and he groaned as your slick arousal coated his fingertips. Before he even realized what he was doing, his fingers found your clit, drawing a soft moan from you.
The thin thread holding his control snapped at the sound, and Azriel let himself give in.
He pulled you closer, his eyes locked on yours as his fingers explored what they shouldn’t. At the first sign of hesitation or revulsion, he was ready to stop. But pleasure was the only emotion etched across your face, and he could see the desire for more burning in your eyes. Yet you were letting him set the pace, giving him time to accept your permission to touch you.
He slipped a finger between your folds, teasing your entrance before tentatively easing it inside, just a little.
Your hips bucked, and your voice came out as a needy whisper. “Please…”
Azriel hesitated for only a split second before pushing his finger all the way in. You were soft and warm, and you both groaned as your walls clenched around it. He couldn’t believe you were letting him do this, but he couldn’t stop now.
As he slowly pumped it in and out, your hips began to rock against his hand to match his movements. He watched in contemplation as your eyes fluttered close and your lips parted slightly, a breathy moan slipping out when he couldn’t resist the urge to add a second finger.
“Azriel…” you murmured. “Feels so good…”
The sound of his name on your lips sent a wave of heat through his body. His wings rustled quietly behind him, and his cock throbbed in his pants. He pulled his hand away, relishing your disappointed whimper.
You hadn’t run away from him. You didn’t let his scars intimidate you, or shape your opinion of him. You weren’t bothered by his marred fingers touching you; on the contrary, you craved them inside you. So why, despite the voice in his head whispering that he wasn’t worthy of it, should he deny you something you both wanted so badly? He wanted to taste you, to make you come on his fingers, and see how much pleasure they could bring you.
“I want to do this properly,” he murmured, gently guiding you to the bed. “Will you lie down for me, sweetheart?”
Your face lit up with a smile, and you slipped out of your panties. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you spread your legs, baring yourself to his hungry gaze.
As Azriel knelt between your parted thighs, he pushed every thought about his hands out of his mind, focusing only on the beautiful girl before him and the warmth settling in his heart.
~~~~~~
Azriel jolted awake, his chest heaving. He lifted his hands in front of him, the dim light of the moon casting shadows across them.
They were fine. Scarred as always, but fine.
He took a deep breath as he lay back down. It was just a nightmare—memories coming back to haunt him in his sleep every now and then. Even after centuries.
“Az?”
He cursed silently as you stirred beside him, turning to face him. He could see your struggle to open your eyes, your voice a sleepy mumble.
“Are you okay, love?”
“Yeah,” he whispered back, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer. “Sorry I woke you.”
“It's alright.”
It always was with you. You never complained when his nightmares disrupted your sleep. He didn't have them as often since you'd moved in together, fortunately. Sleeping next to you helped, but it wasn't a cure.
“Did you have a nightmare?” you asked quietly. With your head resting on his chest, you could probably hear the rapid thumping of his heart. He willed it to slow.
“It's fine, sweetheart,” he sighed. He pressed a kiss to your hair, and his tone was softer when he spoke again. “Go back to sleep.”
You curled up against him, and he thought you might let it go. But instead, you continued to look up at him. “You know you can talk to me if you want.”
“I know,” he murmured. You’d always been there for him when he needed it. You had been since the moment you met a year ago, and he was grateful for it every single day. He couldn't wait for your mating ceremony in two weeks and prove once more how much you meant to him.
You shifted in his arms, and then your head was on the pillow next to his, your face only inches away from his. You reached for his hand and lifted it up to your lips, kissing his palm, his fingers, his knuckles.
Azriel watched in silence, a lump in his throat. His heart still raced, and he felt the sudden urge to cry. He didn't even need to tell you what he needed, what burdened him. You always knew. Even before the bond snapped, you'd understood him effortlessly.
“Your hands are fine,” you murmured against his marred skin. “And so are you. You're fine. They can't hurt you anymore.”
Azriel closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. He buried his face in your neck, freeing his hand from your gentle grasp so that he could hold you tighter and press his body against yours. He draped his wings over you, unwilling to let go.
Your fingers stroke through his black curls. “I'm here, my love.” Your voice was soothing and soft, and Azriel felt like the helpless child he'd been five hundred years ago—needing reassurance, care, love. Maybe he would always need those things.
“You're here with me. You're safe now.”
He couldn't stop them, then. Tears slipped past his eyelids, rolling down his cheeks and dampening the skin of your neck. But your gentle caresses and soothing words never faltered.
“It's alright,” you whispered. Your warmth seeped into him, and he felt so cared for that even the last of his walls began to crumble. A broken sob tore through him.
“You're safe, my love.” You cradled his head against your neck, lips brushing his hair. “You can let it all out.”
Azriel did. You'd helped him through difficult moments before, but he had always held back because he didn't want to feel weak. He didn't want you to think he was weak. But if he’d learned anything from you, it was that crying didn't make him weak. That letting his feelings pour out through tears was better than burying them deep down for centuries.
So, he let them rise to the surface. The pain, the anger, the grief for the childhood he’d never had, the bitterness and frustration.
He had never cried about it before, but as he did, he could see it, for the first time in his life—a small light, a way out of the endless cycle of self-pity and hate he'd fallen into.
Maybe his mother had been right all those years ago. He was still healing, even after five centuries. He didn't know how much longer it would take, but maybe he’d reach a point when the nightmares stopped, his hands didn't hurt, and he could accept his scars. And maybe, one day, he wouldn't need his mother or his mate to remind him that his hands weren't ugly.
Azriel had no idea for how long you let him cry and sob in your arms. He had so many pent-up emotions, so much he still couldn't express, words he couldn't voice. But it was a start. And as exhaustion dragged him back to sleep, the weight on his chest, on his heart and soul, felt a little lighter.
Yet you still held him close, stroking his black curls long after he fell asleep.
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Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever
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wednesdays-buck · 2 days ago
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. . . a 9-1-1 abc Fic Rec!
❤️🚒❤️🚒❤️
r/DatingAdvice by Astroash94
How do I tell my boyfriend I don’t want to date a guy with a kid?
I know how it sounds but hear me out, okay? He DOESN’T HAVE a kid. But, oh my god does he have a kid.
My Boyfriend's Boyfriend by Astroash94
I think my boyfriend has a boyfriend?
Not in a 'I think he's cheating on me' way.  Not even in a 'I think he's using me to cheat' way.  Like, I think it's so glaringly in-your-face that I feel like I've missed a chapter.  
Eddie on Reddit by chaosenby
Eddie turns to Reddit after Buck comes out to him
——
Or that one reddit post where that guy is in love with his roommate but thinks he’s homophobic but buddie
No Stupid Questions by Astroash94
Why is it only sometimes okay to date a lot of people?
Reddit, Am I Homophobic? by Astroash94
Eddie Diaz hates his best friends boyfriend Eddie Diaz turns to Reddit for answers
How to: Get Over the Love of Your Life by Astroash94
When the love of your life is your best friend
****
"Spending less time with him is not an option, stop suggesting it please,"
The Cool Mom by Astroash94
Tldr; My Ex-In-Laws want me to fight my Ex’s current partner for custody of our child. I said no. 
In Case of Emergency - Buck by Astroash94
Part 1 of [THIS SERIES]
AITA For Not Letting My Friend’s Girlfriend Into His Kids Hospital Room?
Idiots on Reddit by 7ate9
Buck and Ana seem to keep clashing during Eddie's recovery after the shooting. Both turn to Reddit for assistance, and both get answers.
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soft-pine · 1 day ago
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1.14 nightmare // cn discussion of domestic violence and suicide
what an aptly named episode. this is one of the most upsetting episodes of the whole show for me. while it touches on themes that i love - what if the monster was family - the way it handles ms miller is deeply uncomfortable. and max's story is just downright awful.
i do find it interesting that this is the second time this season where dean is arguing that they have to stop someone even if they happen to be human. while sam is vehemently insisting that them being "human" means they have to take another approach.
the first is in faith:
DEAN: Sam the guys playing God, he's deciding who lives and who dies. That's a monster in my book. SAM: No. We're not going to kill a human being Dean. We do that we're no better than he is.
and then again here:
SAM: Dean. He's a person. We can talk to him. 
i've said and i'll say again that dean understands that monstrosity is the result of actions and choices not something intrinsic. i think sam sees monstrosity and humanity as more of an intrinsic dichotomy and that's one reason he struggles so much in season 2. anyway.
but really what i want to talk about is ms miller. and how clear it is that she is also a victim of domestic violence. i understand, deeply, why max is so angry with her and why he sees her as an extension and enabler of his abusers. but i simply cannot fathom a world where max is experiencing the torrential abuse he's suffering where those people are not also harming ms miller deeply.
max accuses her, "You didn't do anything. You didn't stop them, not once!" their old neighbor says, "the worst part was the stepmother. She'd just stand there, checked out, not lifting a finger to protect him." the neighbor's claim always strikes me as a remarkably cruel reading of someone who is clearly also suffering and likely dissociating. like idk man of course i think adults have responsibility in situations like this (and i do appreciate the nod to the cops being useless) but like... "the worst part" THE WORST PART was the stepmother. i kinda feel like the worst part was the abuse, no?
but the upshot of it all is that ms miller's implied abuse seems like it has no witnesses. and that's of interest to me because of some interactions we've already dealt with in season 1.
in 1.03, we get this exchange:
DEAN: ... all that anger, you can't keep it burning over the long haul. It's gonna kill you. You gotta have patience, man. SAM: How do you do it? How does Dad do it?
then this in 1.08:
SAM: Remind you of somebody? Dad? DEAN: Dad never treated us like that. SAM: Well, Dad never treated you like that. You were perfect. He was all over my case. You don't remember?
and at the end of 1.14, sam says:
SAM: Well I'll tell you one thing. We're lucky we had Dad. DEAN: Well I never thought I'd hear you say that. SAM: Well, it coulda gone a whole other way after Mom. I little more tequila and a little less demon hunting and we woulda had Max's childhood. All things considered, we turned out ok. Thanks to him.
listen, i would never argue that john winchester didn't abuse sam. but i think it's interesting that though sam is critical of john's parenting and though he has complaints about how john treated him, he doesn't seem to think john treated dean poorly.
which, we just simply know he did. we know it because john does it in 1.09, 1.12, 1.20, 1.21. and because we're told he did in 1.18, 1.22, 2.01, 4.19, 9.07, 14.11, 14.12, 15.20, i mean i could go on.
and not that i have to filter everything through season 14 episode 12 prophet and loss. but i will. because it very clearly lays out how 1. dean was forced into the role of keeping the peace and 2. john would treat dean badly in ways dean wasn't sure sam was witnessing.
DEAN: I know things got dicey… you know, with dad… the way he was. And I just… I didn’t always look out for you the way that I should’ve. I mean, I had my own stuff, you know. In order to keep the peace, it probably looked like I took his side quite a bit. Sometimes when I was… when I was away, you know it wasn’t ‘cause I just ran out, right? Dad would… he would send me away when I really pissed him off. I think you knew that.
the uncertainty behind, "i think you knew that." ough.
but bad boys goes even farther here:
SAM: Hey, Dean ... I mean, why didn't you just tell me you went to a boys' home? DEAN: I don't know. Uh, it was Dad's idea. And then it just – you know, the story became the story. I was 16.
john told dean to lie to sam about what was happening to him.
so what does this all mean in an episode where dean is somewhat mirrored to and protective of the allegedly bystanding stepmother?
that abuse is shitty, cruel, secretive, and protects itself by pitting its victims against each other.
i don't know i wish i had something a bit clearer to say than all this. but it's just sad.
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tj-crochets · 2 years ago
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Hey y’all! Slightly weird request, but can you please give me any “living around coyotes” advice you have?  My mom’s backyard has no fence and backs onto a huge open field which goes up to foothills, which are also unoccupied by humans. She’s been trying to grow vegetables this year, which means she has a lot of ground squirrels in her yard (eating the vegetables), which seems to be attracting coyotes? They’ve been getting closer and closer and today she sent me a picture of a coyote what appears to be less than 100 feet from her door. The problem is my mom likes to take long walks in that big field and the coyotes keep getting closer to her on those walks. I know they make coyote-safety vests for dogs but idk the human equivalent? It’s not like one or two coyotes, it’s a bunch of them. I think she said the most she’s seen at a time is seven. 
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torchickentacos · 6 months ago
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skrunksthatwunk · 4 months ago
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household enemy to the yyh watchthrough number one is the olympics. it's taken us a week to get two episodes into the gamemaster fight
#out of three. please the third episode's what makes it okay im fighting for my life out here#it is NOT for lack of trying on my part but theres only a brief window of time when the olympics is not happening#and as it turns out the watchthrough is Not my mom's first priority (how dare she etc)#i do feel slightly bitter that we've gotten through two eps of band o brothers in the same time#we are fighting for the same timeslots yet somehow the hour long show's gotten a leg up??#you don't have time for a 23 min ep but DO for a 60 min one?? explain the math to me please#idk how to explain the vague feeling of betrayal bc it Does Not make sense Nor matter in the slightest#but cmonnnn we were doing so well. and my little bro's starting up school again soon and my dad's gotta go back to work#sometimes eventually (<- hes on medical leave) and my grandparents are coming over next week We're Losing Time Soon#ughhh if i'd known the olympics were happening (<- somehow completely oblivious to this) i'd have accounted for#my mom getting whisked away by the land of synchronized divers and shot putters and whatever the hell#happens in the summer olympics (<- only pays attention to winter olys)#bc that always happens. and *i* have to go back to school in Some Amount Of Time Im Too Scared To Check (p sure it's late aug though) and#when that happens i'll (hopefully) be stuck across town which means we won't be able to do it any time besides the weekends#and i don't wannaaaaa#i know this is the least important problem anyone's ever had like i get that i know but#it's important to me that they sit down and watch this with me. and watching it pull apart and being#the one who's easily the most invested it makes me look all desperate when i ask them for their time and they can't give it#we can only pull this off neatly in the summer and we were so close and now we're losing it right at the finish line#i don't want life to get in the way of this little bubble i've fought so hard to make y'know#and it's childish and embarrassing and whatever but i just want them to have fun with me with this thing i care about a lot#but i can't do that bc my mom needs to watch the judo matches at Every weight class#even though she's recording a lot of them? i don't understand but whatever i know it's her thing im just moping about it ig#i want it to be as perfect an experience for them as possible and it's slipping away from me#and i don't wanna leave this project unfinished when i start school y'know. sighh#i think they might feel like i only want them around when we're watching stuff. whcih is weird bc that's like#The Singular Way we family bonded literally my whole life so idk why they wouldn't get that when reversed#but either way that IS how i wanna spend time with them. i want them to understand this thing that's become a part of me#and i wanna talk With them about it. and so far it's been fun in a way it's never been before. my mom at least seems to really like it#and i want it to Keep going well bc if we lose momentum im worried they'll start finding it tedious. sighh
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yikes-ajax · 1 year ago
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I so badly wish I could catch my cat running and meowing down the hall at the same time on camera. You can hear each step in her voice.
I had taken her collar off to let the skin there breathe tonight, so when she started playing with it, I let her scamper off with it in her mouth. I think she realized that she was no longer wearing her collar, and in fact packing it around, because hardly a minute later she came running back to give it to me, sounding genuinely distressed to the point I thought something scared her. She just wanted the collar back on :P
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butterflies-and-bumble-bees · 4 months ago
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shshshshshowrunner · 1 year ago
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Wish I could taste without the, like, special ingredients.
...
I ran out of tags. Most of this post is in the tags and I ran out of tags. Apparently the limit is 30. Worst part is I wasn't done.
#saw a video where they deep fried some chocolate eggs and im losing my mind.#unwilling to wake anyone up right now alors je peut pas even voir mes amis le goût#mes dieux they look good.#im almost tempted to get up and cook. i mean. fight gnomes. for xigbar.#okay i am tempted.#but#no guarantee when he'll wake up and if what i make becomes cold and not good I will DIE i cannot kill the part of me#that dies of embarrassment if my cooking is subpar or my house is unclean. if xigbar doesnt like what i make i WILL be killing myself#goodnight world forever i made something contrary to his taste.#i need to work on that i know i do. but#hm#and he said he didnt really have a sweet tooth :( who am i going to feed these eggs to.#i would bother arme but she needs her space I know she does.#I can't imagine a simple desert like this appealing to the narrator.#so no xigbar arme or narrator. thats everyone in the arena#i dont want to bother MoM ive bothered him enough recently.#um. hm.#would Kayne like them? he seems to like sweet things. fundip is sweet right? he put some on his popcorn when I stayed over#he even let me eat some (though I couldn't taste)#hm.#then again i feel like that would fall under Bothering MoM. showing up in the woods under the treehouse yelling#'KAAAAAAYYYNNNEEEEE. DO YOU WANT A DEEPFRIED CADBURY CREAM EGG. OR SEVERAL. I MADE THEM JUST NOWWW'#yeah that would bother him#and also risk waking riri which i do NOT want to do i know how babies are.#fuck.#i cant go to the cabin to bother paph even if he Was awake#not sure if arthur would like these either. and i think hes asleep to. and we're not close enough for me to just hand him food I dont think#gods. kayne is really the best option here but i cant even. damn it.#and stanley and sora are both gone. gone SWEEPING 🧹🧹 THE BRACKET 🧹🧹 GET REKT EVERYONE ELSE#AS they deserve
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stunfiskz · 2 years ago
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my fingers knees and ankles hurt so bad
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frecht · 2 years ago
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do i have any irish mutuals is there anywhere on ireland's west coast that i can see illuminated manuscripts
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medicinemane · 9 days ago
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Few things piss me off more than when I'm researching something, and I find someone asking the question I want answered, and the response is just "you shouldn't want that, just do this instead"
Today, it's me trying to look up a build for this witch farm concept that uses raid captains to manipulate the witches ai instead of using redstone
"Just use the shifting floors farms, they're just about as good" people respond... you stupid prick, that's not an answer to the question actually asked. I don't know about these guys, but me, I want it cause it's novel and there's no redstone, and I like putting bespoke prestige projects on my server... you might have noticed I tend to do form over function on a lot of my farms... so this is about form, the function is just a bonus
Second example, I wanted to see if there was any way to make Terra Invicta load faster, "just don't save scum"... you idiot, one that's just stupid advice, people can play games however they want, but two this once again doesn't answer the question
Like yeah, how dare people want to know if there's a way to make a game load saves faster when loading takes like 1 minute
If they at least phrased stuff like "sorry, I don't know how to do that, he's an alternative you might try", it's not helpful but it's at least polite
But man... I just get tired of people not answering the question being asked and instead answering the one they've decided was asked
(Actually, a legit real problem in the real world such as... with doctors who don't listen to their patient and decide they know what's really being asked. Don't do it, answer the asked question, or at least ask questions to confirm what's being asked before going off pig headed)
#anyway; pouring over unhelpful people one dropped a mention that Doc from hermit craft seems to have built this design this season#so now I have to track down that... while youtube's acting stupid like it always does after I've left my computer on a few days#no other websites have an issue; but youtube basically becomes unresponsive for like 5 seconds every 10 seconds#the video plays fine if it's already going; but if I try to start or stop it or click anything it doesn't#wonderful website you have their youtube; I'm sure it's not a windows style processor hog or anything#...I'm also in a bad mood; like I'm fucking hair trigger at the moment; cause of one of my mom's sneezing fits hours ago#I know it sounds stupid; and honestly it feels like I must be faking it or something#but when I hear her do that (and it lasts for minutes; she never sneezes less than like 20 times at the top of her lungs)#I actually start smashing my fucking head with the heels of my hands; like against the ears and temples#have to fucking race for rain sounds and turn them up to max; and then I just kinda sit there rocking like a crazy person#...I don't know... probably has something to do with... some kinda shit in my childhood... can't really put it into words or anything concr#but yeah... this kinda thing already pisses me off on a good day cause conceptually it's a jackass move#'oh; you asked a question? well you're stupid and wrong for wanting this; you should just be me instead'#like I could imagine if you asked someone how to do wood burning having them say 'you can't; you can only cut it with power tools'#that's the kind of mentality going on here#slime chunks are another good example; I wanted to know if there's a way to trim them cause they kinda piss me off#short answer no; they seem to be even more baked into the seed than biomes are these days... which sucks; but it's a full answer#but 'just spawn proof with slabs and buttons' is a stupid fucking answer you moron#oh shit; I never considered the obvious... thanks; it's not like maybe people want a certain vibe to a room they built#2010 ass builders; like yeah; in the end I'm just gonna discretely add spawn proofing where I need it#but... that wasn't the fucking question#anyway; point is this pisses me off anyway; but I'm also so angry on like... a physical level; everything has me spitting bullets#like I had to make my cats leave my room because physically hearing my mom sneeze just upsets me so much that...#well... I kinda lose control; not like where I'd kick the cats or something; but where I might slap them away#so it's just... fuck; I hate that I often end up raising my voice in that state and yelling#I prefer when I at least keep it together enough to stay in a measured tone as I'm like 'move move move' herding them out#but yeah... it fucks me up on a really physical level#even now hours later when I've kinda calmed down; Bart's laying next to me and part of me just wants to shove him away#cause I just can't fucking stand anything at the moment#on a intellectual level... I fucking hate it cause I'm not even that mad; and I want Bart here
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yelloworangesoda · 7 months ago
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maxwell and sammy are all mine and i love them like my children but its pretty hard to divorce them from fnaf enough to make them straight up ocs. sammy especially bc hes technically not my oc, even if i made up every aspect about him except his name and dead twin sister
#my point being i keep seeing oc post and going ‘omg me about sammy’ but sammy isnt an oc. technically#i literally wont even change his name if i do ever just make him all mine. i love him sammy is my bff forevers.#sammy smiles real wide and has sharp canines. he cant stand silence and talks to himself CONSTANTLY and its worse around other people#he interrupts people a lot by accident. and is really bad about holding friendships and doesnt reach out to people. after he took max in it#was impossible to shut him up bc someone was actually there now. he has serious trust issues and thinks ppl dont like him bc he thinks#everyone to have some big secret theyre all collectively keeping from him to keep him ‘’safe’’ which stems from. his mom doing this to him#about his sister and dad she just straight up refused to tell him until he found out on his own. so for 11 years he knew that. they for sure#you cant just split up your family in half in a divorce. something seems incredibly wrong about that but he didnt know what actually#happened there. also they were young when she died but he still felt like a part of him went missing and without the knowledge she died he#assumed. hed see her again and fill that hole. and of course that wasnt true. so anyway he struggles to make and keep friends#hes had like 8 different partners who lasted more than a month (most of them didnt want to deal with max) and he cant keep any of them bc a#a lot of people meet this cute charming guy with a lot to say and realize hes literally like this all the time and it stops being cute and#starts being annoying. he wanted to have kids bc he really likes kids but nobody wants him unfortunately and also he had. max for 8 years#and max is for sure his kid (from his perspective max is weird about it bc max thinks of his dad. as his Parent and sammy as more of#brother) but like max was not really what he was thinking when he thought he wanted kids right. and he feels bad about thinking that but#he does. think that. he wants a kid of his own. sammy is a therapist for kids with trauma specifically so that also impacts his ability to#have a kid. he worries that. bc of his personal experience of what Can happen that he may in turn be a helicopter parent or way#overprotective. yknow. he#ive got to go to bed omg. i got enough thoughts down!!!!#simons spouting#a lot of this is just awfully written but you cant read back or edit tags on mobile. not my fault
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ambrosiagourmet · 9 months ago
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I've been thinking about Laios' succubus lately. Mulling it over a bit.
Because I've seen these pages brought up a fair bit, but almost entirely in the context of shipping (on all sides, really). And I really want to understand what they are doing for the story beyond that.
When I went back to reread the scene and section, a few things caught my interest: the way Laios responds to both forms of his succubus, the themes of the volume the chapter is found in, and the other events of the chapter itself.
So let's dive into those three things, and what I think they say about the succubus scene's purpose.
Laios is never fully frozen by the succubus
So. If you compare Marcille and Chilchuck's reactions...
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to Laios':
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There is a difference. Sure, the basics may look the same once it turns into Scylla Marcille, but even then, it functions differently.
Chilchuck and Marcille are completely frozen once they catch sight of their succubus. Izutsumi, as well, isn't able to look away, and completely freezes up once her 'mom' starts talking to her. As Chilchuck describes, "just looking at them makes you unable to move."
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And yet, Scylla Marcille has to actively convince Laios to comply. He even looks away from her at one point!
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Laios accepts this succubus, but he is never actually helpless to it in the same way. Taken in? Convinced? Sure, at least enough to let things happen that he probably should question more than he does. But magically compelled? Not really. Not the same way as everyone else is. So that's interesting. But let's move on for now.
2. Volume 9 is all about drive and desire
I don't often look at chapters within the context of the volume they are included in, but I think there's some really fun things to be found with that perspective in mind.
For one, volume 9 starts with an exploration of what desire brought Laios to the dungeon:
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And ends with a question of what desire brought Laios to the dungeon:
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It's also very concerned in general with questions of why people do what they do. Why they are in the dungeon, why they are with the people they are with, why they stay, what they fight for.
In addition to Laios, we see it with Marcille...
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Izutsumi
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Kabru
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and Mithrun
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Hell, we even get it for the demon!
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It's certainly not the only volume concerned with desires and motives, but it is particularly focused on these ideas.
The succubus scene fits quite well into the ongoing question about desires, especially Laios' desires. It is even placed at an interesting spot within the volume. The volume is six chapters long, and the scene takes place at the start of the 4th chapter. It's almost smack-dab in the middle.
With all this in mind, it is interesting that, with both versions of the succubus Marcille, it's not totally clear which parts of her Laios is rejecting.
The first version of Marcille looks human, but Laios attacks when he identifies her as a monster. The second Marcille looks like a monster, but he seems to believe that she is the real (human)(ish) person that he knows. So is he rejecting the monster at first, and then accepting the person? Or is he rejecting humanity and only interested in the monstrous?
Something to consider as we look at the next point...
3. the rest of the chapter is a seduction, too
This is one of those things that might not be apparent on a first reading, but is crystal clear on a revisit. We see the succubus try and charm Laios over 7 pages, and then see the Winged Lion do the same thing for the next 19.
Much like the succubus, it offers the mingling of monsters and humans. Much like the succubus, it offers belonging.
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(and this is the point where I absolutely must also link this post by fumifooms on the succubus, which has some great ideas on how the scene is informed by Laios' trauma and desire for acceptance!!!)
But, back to the point. The Winged Lion wants to feed on Laios just as much as the succubus did, and it uses similar strategies to try and make that happen. Though this chapter isn't really the turning point for the next Lord of the Dungeon (it is Marcille who will, eventually, become the Lion's next victim), it certainly behaves like it is.
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Laios is convinced. The succubus gets its meal. By the end of the volume, the reader begins to understand how concerning his desires are. Together, it is all very good at building up that sense of dread and pending disaster, as we see exactly how and why Laios might just fall into the Lion's open arms and bring about the end of the world.
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So that's the three things I noticed. But there's still something I want to touch on by looking at the way these observations overlap, and what they reveal, together.
As I said, by the end of the volume, you can feel the tension growing. Just as Kabru and Mithrun do, you look back for an answer to the questions that have been built, chapter by chapter: why is Laios here? Where will his loyalties fall? This chapter, and scene, seem to prove the inevitable truth: he will choose the monster, of course. He will choose the seductive, easy power of the Winged Lion.
But the details of what actually happens tell different story: one in which the Lion is wrong.
First, as a reminder - even in Scylla Marcille mode, the succubus never fully entrances Laios. It convinces him, but it doesn't have him completely under its thrall.
Similarly, in the dream, the Lion does convince Laios to embrace the world he is offering. But even within that dream, Laios continues to ask questions that will be vital to him later. It is because of those questions that Laios comes to a new understanding about Thistle.
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And it's this realization that he cites later as part of his reason for refusing the Lion's offer.
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He is thinking through things the entire time, just like he continues to question the succubus even after it turns into Scylla Marcille.
Laios also expresses an interesting reason for why he wants to see the future of this world. He's not just invested because it would mean people liking what he likes, or him getting to spend time with monsters. The thought that comes immediately before his acceptance is about what he wants for monsters and people.
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I don't think it's a coincidence that this statement - "we're living beings that share the same world, but all we can do is keep killing each other" - can apply to the various humans races just as much as it does to humans and monsters. The thing he is thinking about here isn't just a matter of his personal daydreams. It's an idea that underpins every conflict in the story.
Laios caring about how people as well as monsters in this manner is something that the Lion gets wrong every time. Even at the end, he still frames Laios' desires entirely around hating people and loving monsters.
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The Lion has heard him express an opinion about the future of the world! It happened right there in the dream, right in front of him! He just didn't take it seriously, and didn't view it through any lens other than "Laios likes monsters more".
He's convinced that he understands how to get to Laios. Maybe the Lion can't truly see everything, or maybe his vision into everyone's deepest desires has made it hard for him to realize how much choice still matters. That people can, and do, choose which desires to act on, and how to act on them.
Whatever the case, he's wrong about Laios, and the story shows us this over and over again.
After all, look at how the succubus interaction plays out:
A monster uses Marcille to appeal to Laios...
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He realizes that something about the situation is wrong, and rejects her.
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It changes strategies, and makes new offer: to turn him into a monster.
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It also assures him that his friends are, or will be, taken care of.
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He accepts. Or rather, allows the monster to have its way with him.
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But Laios is not as helpless as he initially appears, and what the Lion thinks is a successful seduction also contains the seed of an idea that will allow Laios to later resist him.
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We even get to see Izutsumi playing a similar role in both instances, as the one person fully able to take action in the face to the illusion.
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The story lays out what is going happen, and then explicitly tells us that the demon and the succubus are thematically related.
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The chapter performs a great sleight of hand here - everything about it seems to indicate that Laios is doomed give in to the option to have his deepest desires realized. But if you look closer, it also contains the evidence that he won't. There's a lot more going on for him.
Yes, he still falls for obvious tricks. He is still extremely into monsters, and he still doesn't feel like he fits in with other people. He may, deep down, crave to surrender to the monstrous - to let it absorb him. But he questions more than he seems to. He considers more than people realize. He cares so much more than anyone gives him credit for.
And I think this is part of why we see the succubus called back to so many times, especially with the wolf head addition to his Monster Form, which he specifically added due to his encounter with the Scylla Marcille.
This all stays with Laios. It doesn't just foreshadow the path of the story, it is fundamental to how and why he walks that path. It's not about him choosing monsters, and it's not about him choosing people. It's about how he considers both, and cares about both.
And it's about the forces that think they already know his answer. Mithrun and Kabru. The Winged Lion. The succubus.
It's about how they are wrong.
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kathaynesart · 2 months ago
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It is done! *falls down*
BEGINNING || PREVIOUS || NEXT (SOON) MASTER POST
I have... so much to say on so many different things but it is 2:30 in the morning so I will keep this as brief as possible. First off, thank you to all my mom friends and mutuals who helped me with accurately portraying and normalizing the experience of giving birth. It is wonderful, and painful, and gross, and beautiful. I apologize if it made any readers squeamish (and I know there were a few gross jokes in there) but considering how gross the tv show got, I think it remained true to the overall vibe!
Second, I wanted to talk about the concept of "hope" in this story. When I first watched the movie, I felt like the idea of hope being their greatest weapon seemed sort of heavy handed and cheesy. However, after watching the ending of the show again I realized that hope is actually a huge reoccurring element in the story and a big part of what it means to be of the Hamato clan. Doubly so, I wanted Casey Junior in a way to symbolize that hope for Leo specifically, so when Leo talks about hope in the beginning of the movie, he's not just talking about some vague concept, but Casey Junior himself. He is their greatest weapon and he doesn't even realize it.
Thirdly, so uh... Casey Junior. I apologize if it had seemed out of left field, but do know that the decision of his origins was not made lightly. The shear similarity in his facial structure to Lou Jitsu as well as several other factors that I will refrain from stating due to future spoilers was too numerous to ignore! It is an integral part of his story for reasons that will go unsaid for now, and no, he does not know he's distantly related to them. Also, Big Mama! Been holding onto her concept for some time now! I loved the idea of her mystic broach becoming damaged so she can only be cloaked to a certain degree, making for an interesting blend of both her forms. She was really fun to figure out!
Finally thank you everyone for your patience. This special turned into quite the endeavor with most of the updates exceeding 20 pages each, but I'm so happy I was able to finish it... even if it did take so much longer than my projected hope. I can't wait to get back to the main storyline, though I shall miss these silly, overpowered boys. We got a lot of ground to cover and I'll likely be posting a summarized reminder before continuing. ...and after I finish work on some Zines and the holiday special winning commission!
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