#this one deserves it's own post. he's a GROWN TODDLER

[loustyles]

🖕.

[myownwholewildworld]

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SARAH'S FIFTH BIRTHDAY — ONE SHOT

pairing: joel miller & sarah miller. summary: it's sarah's fifth birthday and joel has made it his duty to bake a birthday cake for his baby girl. a/n: hiya! this is a peace offering for not posting a new chapter of "wherever you go" this week. it is a oneshot set in the same universe, but it can totally be read as a standalone piece. all interactions welcome, please enjoy! <3 warnings: none! just a bunch of cutesy fluff with daddy joel & his baby girl 🥰 w/c: ~1.4k (it's a teeny tiny one!) dividers by @saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!)

July 20th, 1994

Joel Miller was many things, but a baker was not one of them.

He stared at the clock on the kitchen wall, watching the hands move painstakingly slow. He truly had no idea what he was doing. For a man who used his hands on a daily basis for his contracting job, he was terrible at baking.

Taking a deep breath, Joel looked around him. The state of his kitchen was, quite frankly, a complete and utter mess. There was flour everywhere, a thousand dirty utensils spread across the counter, the sink overflowing with a wide range of containers and tools. It was going to take him longer to clean everything up than actually baking Sarah’s birthday cake.

He had tried his best, and by the looks of it, miserably failed. How difficult was it to follow the freaking instructions on the recipe book? With the enlisted help of his neighbour, Nana Adler, he had made his way to the supermarket the night before to ensure he had everything he needed. But as difficult as that was for him —was there really a difference between self-raising and all-purpose flour?—, apparently the worst part was mixing everything together in a bowl.

Honest to God, it looked gross, but he needed to trust the process. It was the first cake he had ever attempted to make, all because his sweet little angel had asked him for a chocolate cake earlier in the week.

He could have bought it from the store, but his heart had swollen with joy at the thought of baking his baby girl her first proper birthday cake. Sarah was truly the apple of his eyes. His beautiful toddler had stolen his heart so hard, Joel did not think his love for her could ever compare to anything else. Any other feeling would pale in comparison to the adoration he felt for his daughter.

She had grown so fast, his heart ached at the memory of holding her for the first time. Sarah was a tiny little thing in his arms, weeping and wiggling her small hands in the air. He soothed her, gently pressing her against his chest — his hand on her back patting her lightly, her baby fingers clutching the neck of his shirt.

And now she was hours away from turning five. Time had really flown by too quickly. It pained him, but he was also excited to know the wonderful girl she would become. Joel inevitably smiled, unable to stop himself from feeling pure elation about what the future had in store for them. His beautiful Sarah deserved all the good things in the world. And she would — he knew she would.

He shook his head, his mind distracting him.

“It’s okay. It’s gotta look bad before it looks better.” He muttered to himself, nodding at his own words. “This can’t be more difficult than bricklaying.”

With that thought, he kneaded the mass for minutes on end until it paled and the colour evened out. Joel cleaned his hands on the apron around his waist and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Then he proceeded to divide the mixture in two and placed it in the round tins, lined with baking parchment.

As he was putting them in the pre-heated oven, the honeyed voice of Sarah came from the top floor.

“Daddy! Daaaaaddyyyyy!”, she called, all sing-songy.

“Coming, sweetie!”, he shouted back, quickly heading towards the stairs.

He climbed the steps two at a time. The door to her bedroom was open, as always — both of them slept with the doors ajar. As a first-time dad, Joel had been an anxious single dad who worried about the tiniest details. There were still times when Sarah had nightmares and would run to his bed for comfort, as she did a couple of nights ago.

“Good morning, sunshine”, Joel greeted her with a smile that spanned across his mouth.

Sarah’s eyes lighted up instantly and giggled while standing up on the bed, her arms extended in front of her, waiting for a bear hug. And Joel happily obliged, kneeling besides her bed, welcoming her with open arms.

“Daddy!”, she squealed, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

His heart irremediably exploded with love, so much so it tugged at his lungs a little, making it difficult to breathe. How much he loved her — no words could really do his feelings justice.

“Hello, you sweet angel”, Joel hummed, breaking off the hug to pinch her chubby cheeks and placing a kiss on her forehead. “Who is the birthday girl, eh?”

“Me, daddy! It’s m’birthday!”, Sarah laughed, clapping her hands and doing a little dance.

Joel laughed at the picture in front of him, another core memory forming.

“C’mon, sweetheart.”

Picking her up in his arms, they walked out of the room and down the stairs. Once in the messy kitchen, he put her down in a stool with arms in front of the counter. Ensuring she was okay, he walked around the kitchen island to check on the cake in the oven.

“Is daddy making me a cake?!”, her excitement permeated his soul, blanketing his heart.

“Yes, and it’s chocolate as you wanted, but can’t promise it will be good, sweetie”, he chuckled, turning around to look at her.

“Me likes chocolate! Yayyyyy!”, her tiny palms hit the counter with enthusiasm.

He couldn’t help but chortle while he handed her a bowl full of her favourite cereal. Sarah eagerly started to spoon mouthfuls, spilling milk everywhere.

They both had breakfast while the cake was baking and when the timer went off, Joel turned off the oven and started to get Sarah ready for the day. She asked for a braided hairstyle that took Joel a good hour to accomplish, but he got there in the end.

“I want bows! Cute, pinky bows!”, she exclaimed before running to her dresser.

Sarah opened a drawer and took the two bows she was talking about. Then she ran back to her dad, her tiny feet doing little jumps as she handed them over.

“Alright, alright, everything for the birthday girl.”

He tied them on at the end of the ponytails and gave her a kiss on her plump, blushed cheek.

“Now go play, sweetie, daddy’s gotta finish that cake.”

The whole day went according to plan. First, they went to the park, where they spent hours until Sarah tired out after playing nonstop with her friends. Being at the cusp of summer, Joel had to run after her a few times to top up her sunscreen. And then, that afternoon, they celebrated at home with friends and family. Sarah was showered with presents, but the one she was most excited about was her birthday cake.

Was it his best creation? No, definitely not. But it looked presentable and, most importantly, edible. Joel was a little nervous as he lighted up the candles and started walking towards the backyard while everyone erupted in song, the melody of “Happy birthday” being sung in unison. With firm hands, Joel set the cake down in front of a very exhilarated Sarah.

Joel knelt behind her, steadying her by placing his hands on her tiny hips as she stood on a stool.

“Happy birthday, sweetie”, he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. It was hard not to cry, but he just about managed.

Sarah yawped and chuckled, trotting in place in a little dance before blowing the candles.

As everyone shouted “happy birthday!”, Sarah turned around and embraced her dad, who instantly reciprocated the hug. Joel had to close his eyes, not wanting this moment to ever end.

“Cake, daddy, cake!”, she giggled, patting her tummy. “My daddy made the cake!” She made sure absolutely everyone knew he had baked the cake, telling each soul who approached to grab a slice.

When Sarah finally sat down on his lap to eat a portion, she eyed her dad with those widened green orbs that took his breath away.

“Whooooa! So yummy! More, daddy, more!”, she demanded while eating the last bite.

Joel laughed, kissing the crown of her head. “You can have some tomorrow for breakfast, sweetie, I don’t want you to get a tummy ache.”

Sarah looked at him, betrayed, and pouted in the hopes that his dad’s determination would crumble.

And it eventually did.

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

@fancyyoouu @smolbeanzzz @guelyury

@bishtrouille @harriedandharassed @thepalaceofmelanie

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

If it wouldn’t be too upsetting, I was wondering about an angsty counterpart to the “M6 meet the parents” post you made awhile ago. Maybe MC finally regains their memories of their parents, only to learn that said parents treated them horribly in some way or another.

The Arcana HCs: When MC remembers having bad parents

~ a lot of people struggle with reconciling a need for parental figures with bad memories of the people who failed to fill that role, and they're not alone. I hope this brings some comfort - brainrot ~

CW for angst, yelling, mentions of toxic parenting

-- to set the scene --

You'd always wondered what your family was or wasn't like. It's been years since your new start on life, and you're content in the family you've found with your beloved.

You did always wonder what the trigger point might be to catch a glimpse of what you used to have - maybe the dad you just passed in the street promising their kid "a treat, but only one, okay?" or maybe the snoozing toddler you saw being lovingly carried home on their mother's shoulder.

You didn't expect it to be the sound of an angry adult yelling at a child for crying outside the window.

Julian

Just as the memories and the yelling and the crying are about to become too much, you hear another familiar voice join in outside your window

You've been expecting Julian home any moment, and it sounds like he's finally here. And like he's ... talking to the kid?

He's speaking gently, and when you peek out the window he's crouching on the cobblestones between the two, using his pocket square to mop up the kid's tears and helping them blow their nose

You hear him say something about grown ups being ridiculous and people who yell doing it because they don't have anything helpful to say and the adult behind him flushes red while the child giggles

There's a moment where you think the grown up involved is about to yell at Julian instead, but one furious look from your beloved is all it takes for them to back off

When he finally makes it inside to take off his coat and greet you, he freezes as soon as he sees the look on your face

"MC? You look upset, my dear, are you hurt? What's wrong?"

Once you're able to tell him everything, you watch his face fall and waver between sadness for your pain and anger on your behalf

"MC ... you deserved to have someone look out for you, too."

He wraps you up in one of his all-encompassing hugs and holds you tight before putting his coat back on and pulling you out the door. It's time Mazelinka made you her honorary grandchild, too

Asra

They saw you tense up from the backroom before they heard what was happening outside

He was just going to take a peek at what was going on, but as soon as he realizes it's memory-related he springs into action

Immediately strides to the shop front, casts a soothing spell on both the people involved (with an added mild sedating effect on the angry adult), turns the shop sign to "closed", and locks the front door before hurrying back to check on you

They approach you cautiously, asking if you're in any pain, and then take you upstairs to snuggle while you work through it

He's not going to pressure you to talk, so he rubs his hands along your back and arms and tucks your head under chin while he asks a few gentle questions in case you need somewhere to start

They'd known that your relationship with your parents wasn't the best, but you had never gone into very much detail before

He's had his own parental difficulties, and he's still working through the hurt and resentment from their disappearance, but he never had to worry about their cruelty

They're quick to shut down any blame you place on yourself. They think you're the most deserving of love of anyone they know, and you definitely didn't deserve to be treated the way you were

Refuses to let go of you until you're repeating back his affirmations

The next time you see Aisha and Salim, they practically offer to adopt you

Nadia

She overheard it from outside the cafe you were sitting in too

She was already very disturbed from the cruelty she was witnessing, but when she saw that it was bothering you as well she stood straight up and sailed outside to deal with the problem

She doesn't need to use very many words. You watch in slight awe as she comes to stand next to the sobbing child and stare down the belligerent adult until their angry shouts turn into quiet apologies

Refuses to let them off the hook until they apologize to the child as well and vacate the premises. Makes sure the kid is safe before coming back and taking her seat again

Confused about why you're still upset when the issue's already been resolved

Shocked and deeply pained when you tell her what's going on. Will make sure that you're somewhere that feels safe to talk before continuing the conversation

She'll make sure all your needs are met before sitting you down with both your hands in hers and asking you to tell her as much as you're comfortable sharing

Hearing about what your parents were like gives her more perspective on her own. She knows that her own hurt is valid too, but your description puts her experience into a new perspective

Quick to tell you that, since you're marrying her, you're part of her family now

Will invite her parents and sisters back to Vesuvia to smother you with love and properly adopt you into the Satrinava family

Never tolerates shouting in her Palace again

Muriel

He started to freeze up a little himself when you passed by the loud situation on your way out of town

He remembers being that kid on the streets, getting yelled at by grown ups who only thought of him as a parasite in child form

He approaches slowly with the hopes of comforting the kid and finding a safe spot for them, accidentally scaring the grown up away in the process (he was frowning very deeply)

He can tell right away that you're not doing too great yourself, but he doesn't want to rush you so he gives the child a wildflower and makes sure they're safe before walking back home while holding your hand

He wants to make sure that you have the time and space to find the words you need, so he gets you situated in front of the fire and sits next to you with a project

Invites you into his lap as soon as you start to sniffle

Listens for as long as he needs to for you to say what you need. All he wants is for you to know that you're not alone anymore

He remembers what it was like to believe that he was unwanted and what a relief it was to learn the truth

He can't imagine how much it must hurt to go through the reverse

Will hold and comfort you for as long as you need it

He'll blush and need to pause a few times, but he'll tell you that he wants you to be part of his family now, both the family of his past and whatever family you find together in the future

Portia

She doesn't even notice that you're upset

She's too busy storming out of the Palace to where the shouting is happening on the bridge and outdoing the angry adult in both volume and fury. How dare they speak like that to a child!

The kid in question stops crying pretty quickly because they're too busy watching in awe as your beloved Portia verbally beats the adult into the ground

She pauses to give the kid a sweet smile and piece of candy before booting the grown up on their way and storming back inside

Continues to rant while she picks up what she dropped. No child deserves to be treated like that! Who does that adult think they are? If a kid is crying, they need comfort, not yelling! What kind of -

Somehow her passionate ranting is both validating and soothing, but even after you've calmed down a bit you still look upset enough for her to pause when she finally looks at you

"MC? What's wrong?"

Starts pacing and tugging at her hair halfway through your answer to keep herself contained and then hugs you so tightly you feel your ribs creak once you're finished talking

Takes five minutes to tell you how loved you are and how mad she is at your parents before bundling you out the door and into town

She's taking you to eat Mazelinka's soup and become her honorary grandchild. She's also threatening Ilya into becoming your adopted older brother (he doesn't need convincing)

Lucio

Genuinely doesn't think anything's out of the ordinary until he sees you becoming visibly upset

He figures that it must be the person getting obnoxious in a public place, so he flies in their face and tells them to shut up and get lost, they're being too loud and bothering his MC

Surprised when you show some compassion for the crying kid. What are you talking about, kids are there to be yelled at - wait - what do you mean they deserve to be treated gently? He wasn't!

... oh

Awkwardly throws the kid a sympathetic smile before pulling you somewhere less vulnerable to continue your conversation

The treatment you describe isn't foreign to him, but when he imagines it happening to you, someone he wants to protect, his perspective starts shifting and he works himself into a rage

Will suggest hunting down and beating up the yelling adult since he can't do it to your parents

Ultimately begins breaking down a little himself, because his need to protect child you from harm is throwing his own past self's need for safety into sharp relief and he doesn't know how to proceed

Ends up back at your living quarters with you and huddling down on the bed together with the dogs to work it out

It's going to be a long journey, but finding a piece of hurt from his past that lines up with yours gives both of you the courage to start the healing process together

[operationbigskye]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Thank you @thekristen999 for the WIP Wednesday tag, I thought I’d post something tonight that I’ve been kicking around for awhile. I haven’t written in forever and a week, and really hope to finish this one day because it means a lot to me. Let’s call it the arthritis fic.

It started the fall after Eddie turned 37. At first, he attributed it to various extenuating factors: The weather in LA was variable this time of year, he had just carried a grown woman AND a toddler down several flights of stairs, and—this one was hard to swallow—he was getting older. Aches and pains came with the inevitable passage of time—right?

Despite all these rationalizations, there was a twisting in his gut that his body was trying to tell him something to which he was not ready to listen. Even when Bobby, Chimney, and Hen would gripe about their own ailments, yet still brush them off with a laugh, it made Eddie feel something akin to dread. Had they felt the same way at his age? Had it gotten worse or was it pretty much the same? None of them seemed to have slowed down too much yet.

Despite Eddie’s pride in his amazing poker face, there was one person who had lovingly refuted that he wasn’t as stoic as he wanted people to believe: His husband.

“You feeling okay?” Buck asked one night, frowning when Eddie winced as Buck’s fingers kneaded around the knee of the leg Eddie had in his lap. It was a night they both had off, and they were engaging in a tradition that Buck had somewhat humorously promised in his vows, but was alive and well even after a year of marriage.

“I promise to give you a massage every week,” Buck had promised that autumn day, “without expecting one in return.” Laughter had rang out amongst their family, friends, and Eddie himself.

To this day, Eddie had faithfully returned the favor almost every time.

“Yeah,” Eddie replied, hoping Buck couldn’t hear the gritting in his teeth. “Just a little sore, probably from our last shift.”

Buck fixed Eddie with a look he had seen since the beginning of their friendship; a look that said ‘bullshit’ but in a nicer tone. “Eds, we promised not to hide pain or injuries from each other.”

“I’m fine, babe. Promise. I’m an old man, remember? Talk to me when you catch up in less than two years.”

Buck still didn’t look like he one-hundred percent believed him, but the corners of his mouth were twitching. “I guess I deserve that. You weren’t kidding though, 35 has been when it’s all started to fall apart.”

If you’re reading this and haven’t been tagged, now you are!

[gutz-radio]

Anytime I see a post about how Izzy hands deserved what happened to him or how it was totally justified for Ed to be a horrible person to him I get so damn angry. I get so angry and I need to just speak my mind at how angry it makes me.

To me, Ed in season two has shown abusive behaviours. Plain and simple. He has shown a pattern to physically assaulting Izzy. One toe is a single instance, but two more is a pattern. He tells Izzy if he doesn't do what he wants he is easily replaceable. And it isn't just abuse to Izzy. It's the whole crew. He's horrible to all of them. They're all scared of him. The scene where Ed is talking about the vibe on the ship shows me no one at all is comfortable around him.

I love Ed as a character don't get me wrong. I relate to him in parts, mostly how he can't handle his feelings and how messy it is and his self hatred. And also the abuse he faced. I love Ed. But to just close your eyes and slap hands over your ears and go lalalalala at all the shit he's done but then put all the blame on Izzy angers me. Yes, I'm not gonna deny Izzy fucked up. He is toxic as hell to Ed as well, and I never justify the stuff he did because it was bad. But never, ever, does that justify being abused. The only person responsible for how Ed has treated everyone is Ed himself. Ed isn't a fucking toddler who doesn't comprehend what he's doing. He's a grown adult man. Izzy cannot force him to do shit. At the end of the day, the only person who has a choice to what to do is Ed himself. Yes, Izzy was horrible to Ed when he was the most vulnerable. He said vile stuff, and kicked him down when he was weak. And that is shitty and the blame for Izzy's own actions is on Izzy. But the same goes for Ed. Ed chose to hurt the crew, and he chose to hurt Izzy. This was all his choice. No one forced him to do anything. Outside factors all contribute to it, yes, and it all worsened his mental state. But it is still his fault. And as far as I'm concerned, Ed owes the crew and izzy a MASSIVE fucking apology and a hell of a lot of change. Izzy realised what he said to Ed was wrong. He knows he fucked up. He tells Stede as much. But Ed is also at fault and I'm pissed how people keep just acting like he had no say in it whatsoever and he was purely at the mercy of his fucking subordinate.

Personally? I hate how serious discourse is in this fandom and this is a fictional show and I don't treat fictional characters like real people. But the victim blaming, and the blatant hypocrisy of how people treat Izzy compared to Ed angers me. Either they all suck and we should hate them both, or we stop giving a damn and stop blaming characters and harassing people over a fucking FICTIONAL CHARACTER.

[fruiteggsaladit]

Crucial part of Shizubo (Botan/Shizuru) to me

are the headcanons/fan concepts that--

1) Shizuru is equally as cutegirlcrazy as Kuwa, she's just had time & experience to temper it by actually scoring and having relationships w them and also been burned by the occassional Femme Fatale and appears/is more reserved so it takes an Experienced Lesbian to recognise what she's putting down,

2) Botan is not an Experienced Lesbian, thinks she's straight, and unless Shizuru tells her she (Shizuru) is a lesbian, she will also think Shizuru is straight (obliviously crushing, "this is normal admiration for a fellow woman, right??"), in other words Shizuru is playing poker and Botan thinks these are oddly-shaped cookies that don't taste very good, but she'll eat them to be polite.

3) in combination with

3. a) me, myself, and I wanting Shizuru to be more involved with the narrative and thinking that means she has to have an Objection to Kuwa involving himself with the Spirit Office once she knows more of what the deal w it is (Idt she's opposed to him helping his friends, I think she's opposed to this toddler-god and Co believing they have the right to involve themselves this much w humans by "hiring" child soldiers and have a gag order to top it all off, here), 3. b) me wanting Botan to face some consequences of her actions by aiding that mission (some people like to put characters in a box and shake them, I like to put them in court apparently), some of her actions including: ... ... 3. b. i) Botan not actively opposing Kuwa's involvement with not one, but two assignments where he wasn't actually hired for that (Yusuke being forcibly hired by the office is bad, but until Shizuru has reason to ask, she won't know abt the details), the second of which leads Kuwa to be forcibly invited to DT, ... ... 3. b. ii) Botan having actively discouraged Kuwa and Yusuke from telling the truth abt the Spirit Office, even to their own families and friends, even when Yusuke wanted to tell Keiko and thought she deserved to know for having been a target and could become a target again by association to Yusuke, 3. c) Keiko and Shizuru (and Atsuko, in the manga) needing to force (guilt-trip & menace) Botan to spill the beans, 3. d) another way of making Shizuru more relevant and also... make DT more interesting? Not the arc, the actual tournament, the premise and the in-universe mythology around it, to have Shizuru investigate it in pursuit of stopping the tournament. ... ... 3. d. i) She fails, but she tried very well and hard in my mind, and that's what matters to me.

I think that @ first, Shizuru thought this was a cute girl working at a dubious firm (big deal, "we can't judge them when we live under capitalism" (the cutegirlcrazy talking, Shizuru is not as immunised as she thinks she is, comparing herself to her brother)), but the more she learns abt Botan's involvement w Kuwa and Yusuke and it turns out, 2 other kids (at worst forced labour for minors, at best community sentence for minors that involve murder, harm to self, and potential death) too, the less fondness she has for the woman. (Shizuru could also be as love-dumb as Kuwa could be, but I personally can only handle this many idiot characters I can't predict very well and also I want bloodhound!Shizuru.) Botan has the additional debuffs of A) not knowing lesbians exist in non-abstract ways including herself (see point 2) earlier in the post), and B) though she does feel deeply guilty about her actions and involvement, she has no idea how to dissolve the deal realistically based on everything (what little) she's been told, and so is extremely avoidant/dismissive of anyone who challenges that narrative.

In a world where instead of Shizuru having a weird arc w Sakyo (and was even aged up for it... in one post discussing Botan being a grown woman, I very naively wrote that they aged up Shizuru for the drinking scene, I genuinely forgot abt the forced het romance, sorry), and the girls being more involved than "what is going here!! yes we do exist. but only as reminders of the mundane world the boys are leaving behind. also these are men's battles, we can't/shouldn't interfere bc we can't understand", Botan and Shizuru have an arc in which Shizuru realises that Botan is not irredeemable, she's just stupid (I say this lovingly, I'm saying this lovingly--, not from Shizu's perspective but from mine own she's stupid (lovingly!!!)), and Botan realises that Shizuru wasn't on-and-off her ass to be mean or remind Botan of how helpless she feels if she just so happened to find Yusuke and Co by the Spirit Office unfair or anything (which she doesn't haha she'd have to hate her job or think she's a bad friend to her friends which she isn't right haha or hate how your work & the rhetoric you developed in relation to it is poisoning the community and solidarity you could have with your friends haha you're not a bad person if you think you're good right hahaha), she was sussing her out while trying to stop the Tournament. Anyway, idk, them entering something of a peace treaty after that.

They do not get together or if they do, it's post-canon/king tournament epilogue/bonus story arc material! To me!

[ID: A white cat being fed salad, with yellow, white, and green text: "Me:" (the white cat); "My hyper-specific salad (specified to My needs specifically". The latter "my" is intentionally mispelled. /END ID.]

[groenendaelfic]

Young Royals Snippet #5

Convincing people that the monarchy had to be abolished was a lot harder than it should be.

Nowadays people simply no longer saw it as a threat.

At best they rolled their eyes and said, "So what? It's not just the monarchy causing class division and inequality. They don't have any political power, not like that one CEO, you know the one who—"

Most merely shrugged and didn't care, or they pretended not to, while secretly or not so secretly romanticizing the royal family and all their hanger-ons, speculating about their love lives for entertainment, like celebrities, but ones which had to be addressed by a deferential title and who received millions each year to dress pretty and shake hands, their privilege a matter of pride and tradition, a deserved compensation for representing their country on the world stage.

And oh look, isn't the Crown Prince handsome? Don't you just have to feel for him after how sad he looked at his brother's funeral almost a decade ago? How time flies by, the poor dear, so handsome and strong despite his grief, all grown up now, but well, you are probably too young to remember how cute he was as a toddler when he ...

It was infuriating.

It didn’t matter that the monarchy had no more power on paper, was entirely useless in theory, because when the Crown Prince visited an animal sanctuary journalists and random people alike suddenly paid attention to the cause, had an opinion and cared, acting as if the concept of such a thing was entirely new to them, as if they couldn’t conceptualize the importance of animal welfare without the heir to centuries of injustice and exploitation showing up for a minute to shake hands and cuddle a puppy, cameras of course always ready to capture every second and to make the visit seem much longer than it actually had been.

The fact that said Crown Prince looked cute cuddling puppies was entirely beside the point.

Or rather it wasn’t, because that was intentional as well, was another way for the establishment to romanticize the monarchy, to make it seem benign and harmless, and Simon had no doubt that countless teenage girls were right at this moment saving the pictures of the puppy cuddling prince on their phones, dreaming of being his future princess and to one day be cuddled by the privileged waste of taxes in turn, not spending a second caring about the starvation and death his palaces were built upon, about the countless other animals the Crown Prince hadn’t cuddled, nor about the puppy which had most certainly gotten dozens of adoption requests the moment the pictures were posted, completely ignoring the fact that that wasn’t what animal sanctuaries were for, that they weren’t shelters eager to find a forever home for their charges, that this wasn't even a dog sanctuary, that the puppy was just a prop, one which was safer and less divisive than having the heir to the throne pet the actual wildlife there, and it made Simon so angry, because all of that shouldn’t be necessary.

People shouldn’t require pampered mascots to highlight worthy causes, especially not when the only reason said mascots did anything worthwhile was to distract from their own scandals and shady dealings. And anyway, what about all the other causes which didn’t come with a charming photo opportunity or glitzy galas?

Simon hated the monarchy, and the fact that its currently most popular face was objectively aesthetically pleasing and constantly surrounded by an alluring air of melancholy didn’t change that one bit.

Still, know your enemy, or so the saying went, and Simon very much understood the reasons for that, pressing save on the picture he was never going to look at again, because being hot did not magically make one a good person, nor did it make profiteering off of inherited wealth and inequality any less inexcusable, and really, fuck the monarchy, fuck it very much.

and then 30k later wilmon have angry sex

somehow

[ben-the-hyena]

I adored the Mario movie, probably the best Fillm ILMNT has ever made, but I didn’t like how Mario had to earn his dads and relatives love and respect by being cool, he deserved love and respect just for being a good person.

I didn't want to respond to this because it gets into spoiler territory but I did reblog a spoiler post about the same subject yesterday so

Well I do not see it like that at all. Mario's family already loved him and were proud of him, you see it how happy they are to see them walk in and the fact they ALL watched their commercial. But they are Mediterranean. As a Meditteranean myself, it is seen as motivating and encouraging to criticize your independant choices, and as just teasing to roast you. Especially men towards men since it is a little machist way of thinking therefore they need to "tough up" but it is encouraging their own way

Mario being in his 20's was raised in an American environment while his father and uncles have an accent suggesting they might have grown more with their Italian origins so he takes it badly as well as of course being low at the moment (as a Corsican who often fo through it I HATE it too, and I suspect if you are neurodivergent like I suspect I am you will too because it can be very stressing out, but you know that they don't mean it and it is in a way their way to encourage you thinking it will boost you up and to hide their own worries) while as you see they are all shocked that he is upset since it was not their goal. Mediterranean people are family oriented, and thus internally panic when the family safety choice isn't chosen (Luigi and Mario leaving their steady job for making their own). But when you do succeed, it is not out of hypocrisy that they then tell you they are proud and happy for you, because NOW they are relieved to see it worked after all. Plus, as the post I reblogged yesterday precises, see how Mario's dad wouldn't have mentionned it if he was not asked, meaning he was willing to keep his worries for himself and not ruin the mood, but then got carried away. And that himself didn't mean it to come off as hard since he wss surprised in the end with his "what ?"

Mario and Luigi did not earn their love and respect. They always loved them and the roasting is seen as harmless in Mediterranean society (in Corsica we call it macagna and can sound VERY MEAN OUT OF CONTEXT but is not a reflect of what the person thinks and they may be ready to punch someone else who says it) and the father's words were obviously meant to sound harsher than what he meant because he is worried about what future awaits for them after leaving a steady job, but just see how happy they are to have them for dinner. Plus, we saw they were dressed like that as babies, wouldn't you laugh and make fun if your nephew dressed up in their adult-sized toddler gears as their work uniform, and white gloves for a dirty (literally) work at that ?

In the end of the movie, seeing they almost lost them (when the Piranha plant eats them before their eyes, and after all they must have been missing for like 2 days), the dad no longer cares for the stoic and harsh Mediterranean paterfamilias way. He is too relieved to see they live and is also genuinely impressed (he saw them kick a fucking dragon by themselves !!!) So of COURSE he finally opens up and says he is proud. But he always felt it

And before anyone tells me "well then it's hypocrite to hate Encanto then since you justify it as Mediterranean family dynamic, Encanto is about Latino family dynamic", well no because it was handled much better in other movies like Coco or The Book of Life and because no matter the society it is NOT okay ro have a scapegoat and play favorites just because your life sucked and someone has to pay and you don't hesitate to publicly humiliate, encourage the others to be just as mean or neglecting and one fucking feels the need to banish himself so that you don't have to feel as bad as he had been made to feel for all his life by such a "loving family"

[jenuinely-speaking]

A Family Tail Master Post

Behind the scenes, I have so many AUs and stories planned and in the works it's not even funny. I do plan on posting about them because they're all heavy with information, not just what I'm going to post on A03. At this point, my friends and I are convinced I'll be writing beyond the grave lol BUT! Focusing now on a fluff related AU, on that is on-going as I write it as a buffer while writing my AHON AU. It all started with a random thought one late summer afternoon during work: Why is there a lack in Splinter love stories? The guy deserves it. Having gone through a life-changing mutation, raising four boys that also went through the same life-altering changes, and ensuring not only theirs but his own survival and safety? Bruh. Having a friend that is going through single parenthood with 2 boys in life, Splinter deserves medals, spa days for the rest of his years, and love. Being a single parent to four boys, let alone mutant boys, is no easy task. But that's just me and my thoughts. This AU, however? It's not just a love-letter to the best Mutant Dad, but to four brothers and a small family that has gone through hell and back in order to find their peace and loving found-family. Which amped up the original thought to the following: What if the brothers had grown up with a mother/mother-figure? One that not only accepted and loved them, but accepted and loved their dad?

Enter Genevieve "Gene" - A head nurse for an exotic animal clinic, on-call for the local area zoos, and volunteers her time at the reptile sanctuary the clinic runs for rescues and surrenders.

In story, Gene "meets" (more like catches sight of) Splinter first when he sneaks into the clinic to 'borrow' some medicine for his sick, young sons (we're talking toddler ages here). After she left a note with her number and willingness for extending help, some time passes, and she receives a call from him requesting that aide. She does not physically meet him until a few months later, their conversations strictly having been by phone calls. He arrived at night when she's leaving the clinic, to properly thank her for saving his sons. After a tense conversation, they begin a shaky friendship/acquaintanceship, but neither push for regular in-touch basis (though Gene does make regular weekly calls to check up on the boys', and subsequently Splinter's health). She doesn't meet the boys until sometime afterward, but it doesn't take long after the meet that Gene becomes a regular in their lives--providing healthy groceries, presents, furniture and utility updates, and even providing a teaching of some modern hobbies the boys obtained that Splinter was open for them to learn, but lost on providing that type of teaching for his boys. Needless to say, she becomes a staple within their lives that it becomes difficult for all involved to imagine life without her, and vice versa for her towards this small mutant family. Some notes on this AU:

There is no set universe for this story; most likely will be an amalgamation with different cameos and easter eggs, just for the funsies.

An out-of-sync chapter story (attention span is too short due to other projects to figure out a proper timeline); some chapters will be shorter than others, and some will be marked as parts if I decide there is an arc to them.

Splinter in this AU will be a Human-turned-Mutant, Hamato Yoshi, because of plans.

The lair is 100% based on the '87/'90/'03 animation lair design(s) with how big, vast, and multi-room use it is, but with the grittiness of the 14/16 movie set designs.

The boys still learn the art of Ninjutsu -- they wouldn't be Ninja Turtles without it, after all. Gene also learns an impressive amount of self-defense combat, training under Splinter separate from the boys.

By the time the boys are teenagers, Gene is in her late 30s and Splinter is in his late 40s and they are in a solid relationship by that point

How the boys meet April + Casey will be different compared to the other iterations (that's honestly becoming a theme in my AUs, now that I think about it...What is wrong with me?)--April's meet is figured out, but still working on Casey's.

Even though majority of this will be Contemporary Life type genre, there are action scenes planned with Oroku Saki/Shredder and the Foot Clan (kinda hard to stay away from that).

I will be completely upfront: I don't normally write anything fluff related. But my brain has been craving this while I write scary angsty stories. Thus, having me fall to the dangling fruit that is contemporary 'what if's for these guys (including this, I have 4 planned stories within that genre), and I couldn't shy away from thinking up scenarios with turtle tots involved.

Here are the chapter summaries for two of those very scenes (centering around Mikey, because I've been very hard on the guy in my other story):

When the boys are around 7-8 years old: During the time when Gene is making it a good habit to visit the Hamato family during her down time, she is caught painting her toenails in the lair. Mikey gets inquisitive and asks her questions about the process and the 'why's. She is patient and lighthearted with her answers, but stalls when he ends up asking if she'd paint his nails. Instead of answering, she looks up to Splinter, who had been drinking his tea in the kitchenette; he had already been watching the exchange and after a moment, he gives his nod of approval. With the silent permission, Gene tells Mikey that she will prettify his nails, and while she finishes up and lets her toes dry, he can pick out a color, or colors that he'd like to have. When he grabs a handful of colors and asks if she could do a rainbow, they start to plan on how to do this project without making a whole lot of mess. Mikey ends up stealing borrowing a role of tape and paper from Don's rooms so they could tear small strips to make stripe patterns to test out. When Mikey finds one he likes, it's another hour or so of the two of them spending time together of her painting his nails (hands and feet) in striped rainbow. When Don comes out to see what's going on with his 'borrowed' materials, he asks if he can have his done too, but in shades of purple. The lair smelt of nail polish for at least a day after that afternoon/evening.

Sometime after Gene and Splinter begin their relationship: Michelangelo is having nightmares, and normally he'd go to one of his older brothers to pile up on, however he finds that he is wanting the comfort of Gene; her hugs are the best, and her extra squeezes and flop of her body makes him feel loved and safe. On one night she decides to sleep at the lair (it's a rare treat for her to sleep over that's slowly becoming more common), Mikey wakes up from another nightmare and immediately goes to seek out Gene. Only he doesn't see her on the couch or cot in the living room space she normally sleeps in--he hunts her down, doing his best to see it as a game of hide-and-seek to keep his panic down, and finally finds her in dad's room. The two are snuggling in slumber on his mat, with Gene having her back to Splinter and arms splayed before her, while Splinter has one draped over Gene's side and the other cradled under her neck. Mikey almost doesn't want to disturb them (in the back of his mind, he remembers that his brothers owe him their pot of treats), but only almost. He ends up going in the room and when he tries to figure out how to only wake up Gene, she startles awake from feeling his stare on her. He tells her about his nightmares and before he asks if he could have one of her hugs, she smiles and opens her arms for him. When he snuggles into her arms, they both feel Splinter wrap his arms closer against the both of them as they fall back in slumber; Mikey doesn't have nightmares after that (and crows at the breakfast table that his brothers owe him the winning pot of treats).

[frostsong]

9—24: VICISSITUDES.

noun: alternation between opposite or contrasting things.

rating: g

characters: prince haldrath, ratatoskr (mentioned), original characters, chanduciel de dansereau

tags: reincarnation au, post-endwalker probably, family, father & (toddler) son bonding, haldrath still battles his demons even now, but he’s more hopeful (because he has more reason to), listened to sleeping at last’s ‘you are enough (acoustic version)’

summary: in another time and place, he wonders.

wordcount: 619

“and what color would that be?”

his voice is barely above a whisper as the toddler in his lap brushes his tiny fingers above his own, larger and longer ones—from little lips and rosy cheeks his son sputters a sound, a syllable, and two stitched together in an awkward little squeak.

still, haldrath’s heart swells with pride.

“orange. well done!” grinning wide, he re-gathered the child up onto his lap with the book, as the little one’s incoherent mumbles formed bubbles that dribbled down his small chin. haldrath couldn’t help but chuckle as wiped him clean with his sleeve, and the boy’s wide purple eyes—eyes that mirrored his own, though larger, and certainly brighter—focused on him and him alone. he could only wonder what his son, who only recently passed his very first summer, was thinking of at that very moment: how little of the world he had seen with those two large eyes, with that tiny heart that was still learning the rhythm by which the boy would live, live, live—

he shuddered as he breathed in, as he felt the weight of doubt return—the odd question that changed nothing. that meant everything.

the question of if he deserved all this.

here and now, haldrath knows better, remembers better. he can never set foot in sohr khai again without feeling the sunset-gold burn on his skin like an old scar. never again can he draw breath in dravania without even the mere air threatening to take it from him.

that, he deserved.

but the miracle on small fours lurching forward to bring the book closer—the one that carries half of him, half euphemie: his eyes, her dimpled smile.

he called his child a miracle for a reason—euphemie believed as much, too—and everyone close to them insisted the same. even the lithe dragonets who’d grown to regard them as family hovered close by, relishing in the sight of a not-yet man, of life in its first days.

they all call him father. papa, at warmest—it’s the name euphie still calls her own, even with all the years since his passing. she tells him he’ll be the same, if not better—most definitely better. and it’s a daunting expectation to meet, but every time haldrath takes chanduciel up into his arms he knows he wants to—he has to.

ratatoskr—the only mother he’d ever known—would want the same.

the great irony turned tragedy of it all, stings and will sting forevermore—and one of the countless consequences that comes with it is that his boy will never meet her. not in this life. and haldrath had been a participant in ending it all—in perpetuating the myriad chances lost to far more than time alone.

at night, once they have chanduciel safely swaddled and sleeping in the wrought-iron cradle by their bed (both of them agreed it was far too soon for the nursery), she has to remind him time and time again not to dwell on the regrets that mire him down so much. she knows the feeling, for in the past he had been the one who told her the same. that time in their lives had come to an end, and for better or worse they had done well to move on from it. now, the greatest motivation for doing so was asleep an arm’s reach away.

his hands that took life now cradled it, protected it. treasured it.

he would die for him once, twice, as many times as necessary to ensure his safety, his well-being, his happiness—but he would rather sit here with him, read him stories when he’s far too young to remember the words to, tell him things he can’t understand just yet.

haldrath would rather live.

[just-an-enby-lemon]

This post is different for my normal posts. It is a rant about TERFs and one of the miriad ways in each they are wrong and fill my heart with anger. If you are a TERF please block me. And if you are trigerred by transphobia and TERF discourse, I wish you the best, but also this post isn't for you (we will he back to the silly batman things soon) keep scrowling, find better blogs.

Anyway TERFS piss me off.

Like all they say are just soo wrong. And was talked about for soo many people, all smarter and better than me.

But there is a particular thing people often don't talk about: the adultification of trans woman. As an example I recently saw a video where a terf used the old and stupid conservative tatic of "think of the childrem" by saying more or less this words (I'm evoking them for memory): "If I sended my 5th grader daugther to a summer camp and discovered there was a man calling himself a woman sharing sleeping in her cabin, showering with her, he would be in jail. Firstly my husband would beat him up and them he would be in jail."

Now there are a miriad of problems with this rethoric, but a thing that draw my attencion was that she is talking about a 5th grader summer camp and so her speach can mean only two things:

1. She would be totaly fine with a grown woman sharing the cabin with the kids, sleeping and showering with them as long as this adult in the mist of 10-11yo was cis. Wich I think is weird. Why would you see no problem with a 40 yo woman showering with a bunch of ten year olds? And what kindda of weird summer camp even let the monitors sleep and shower with the childrem? They have their own private cabins for a reason.

2. Or this hypoteticall "man" is a 10 year old transgirl. In this case she is saying she thinks is okay for her husband to beat up a child and that after the same kid should be locked up in jail. Not even juvie. Jail. This ten years old comited such an awfull crime by existing and being herself that she deserves to be beaten bloddy (by an adult man) and throwed in jail. Because nothing says "down with the patriarchy" more than grow man beating up and locking alway a little girl for the crime of being different, I guess.

I do belive the second option is more likely what the TERF wanted to say (or she is stupid and dodn't really though his analogy through, as always in 50/50 in the game of malice or stupidy with this people). That she ignored the consequences and used the word man with so much enphasis because to people like her trans woman are pedophiles, they can't be kids because they are dirty and evil and sexual abusers who attack our woman and childrem and all this bigotred bs. This is the image she belives and so is the image she wants to sell people. And to do that she was to see this imaginary transgirl as a random adult man that only her can see. That while everyone is seing a kid, she can see the harmfull monster behind it, she can see how this can't be a child. Because the thing in her fantasy her husband is beating a pedo, a slimy, creepy, adult man pretending to be a little girl and that is the narrative she will tell and a lot of people will be afraid and agree without realizing that what they are actually agreing with is that her husband should beat up a little girl, that this adult man should be beating a 5th grader bloddy while his wife and other bigots sheer.

We talk a lot about how TERFS infantilize trans man (I even like to joke that between being a transman and autistic most upper class white woman must see me as a literal toddler) but we often forget to talk about how they adultific young transwoman and how this narrative exists as a way to further the non-sensical and damaging narrative that transwoman are predators and pedophiles.

Just to end in a nicer place: trans woman are woman, trans man are man, nb people are valid and no form of queer identy turns someone into a predator or a pedophile. We are just people trying to live our lifes with basic human dignity and if anyone has a problem against it they are the disgusting weirdos.

[sortasirius]

“Unity” and the Broken Boys

BOY Y’ALL BETTER SIT DOWN BECAUSE THIS IS AS LONG AS CAN BE AND I TOOK OFF WORK TOMORROW SO I’VE GOT TIME

This is....one of the best episodes in the show.  Yeah, in all 325 of them, this is hands down one of the best.

First of all, stan Amara for clear skin.

That silent treatment babey, right out the gate with the Angst.  Tbh Dean deserves it.

“Like I said, killing Amara, Jack dying...that’s the only way.”

“The only way.  Our one shot.  Our Last chance.  You ever get tired of saying stuff like that?”

“We don’t have to like it, alright?  But you and me, we gotta get it done.”

Amara is such a welcome energy in this whole episode.  She’s warm and understanding, whip-smart and probably more powerful than Chuck.  I love her.

Sam is a wonderful, understanding, loving dad.  I love him eternally.  He loves Jack so much, he’s trying so desperately to do what’s right for Jack but also what’s right for the world.  Jack made this choice, but he can’t live with it.  How do you support your child when their life is at stake?

“Come on man.  Blindly following orders, lying to Amara, sending her to her death. Does any of this feel right to you??”

“It doesn’t matter how we feel!  You know what?  Stay.  Stay.  Someone has to be the grown up here.”

“Yeah well someone has to keep fighting for Jack!”

“He knows what he signed up for!”

“Last I checked, we don’t give up on family.”

“Jack’s not family.”

Y’all should have heard the noise I made.  What a fucking line.

“I know how you feel about the kid, I care for him too, I do, but he’s not like you.  He’s not like Cas.  He’s just not.”

“I’m- I’m ready.”

You can see the regret, the heartbreak in Dean’s eyes.  You can see how he wants to take those words back the moment he said them, and for Jack to hear them?  It’s unthinkable.

Sam and Cas I’m just so fucking emo dude.

“Sam, you stayed behind to find another way huh?  I woulda done the same.”

AMARA

First of all, LOVE this structure.

Amara and Chuck have such a fascinating dynamic.  Rob and Emily do a great job (as they have all along) by clearly being siblings but...heightened.  You can just tell they both exude power, and the other is the only one they consider an equal.

“You and Dean had that whole weird...thing.”

“That wasn’t you writing?”

“Ugh, not that part.  Gross.”

What I took away from this is what I’ve suspected all along.  They HAVE free will, just not total free will.  Dean and Amara’s connection wasn’t Chuck, there are parts of the story he didn’t write.  Obviously, this comes into play later. 

I also have a hunch that Chuck doesn’t write romance.  I also think that in particular will come into play.

“Balance.  Something we’ve never tried before.  Creation and destruction, light and dark, brother and sister united again, but on behalf of one world, this world.  True balance.  The way it was always meant to be.  But you can’t.  You only care about your pleasure, your story.  Well, I guess that makes you the villain.”

“Villains get all the best lines.”

We see again and again this season, Chuck is irredeemable.  He doesn’t care about the angels, he doesn’t care about the world, he doesn’t care about anything.  He is a petulant toddler who has broken his toys. And when he realizes he’s trapped, he gets angry, he shouts and screams, completely at odds with Amara’s peace.

“You can’t hold me here forever.”

“I can hold you long enough.”

DEAN

Pain is the name of the game in this section homies.  Because not only are we dealing with Dean’s pain, we’re also dealing with Jack’s.  Jack says he understands why Cas and Sam mean more to Dean, but Dean clearly doesn’t, he, once again, wants to say more, but is stopped, still stopped by his fear: his fear of not beating Chuck.

Alright guys, gals, and non-binary pals.  Let’s talk about Adam and Seraphina.

Adam.  The first man.  And Seraphina.  The angel.

“My old lady.  She’s the only one who could put up with me all these years.”

Yeah okay.  Volume at 100 I get it lmao.

But also: Adam wants God dead not because he and Eve were kicked out of the Garden, but because he went after their sons.  The theme of protecting the children strikes again.

“Killing God is your plan?”

“Yeah, Billie’s been giving us a hand but Sera and me, this is our baby.”

This juxtaposed directly with Dean’s own pain at what he has to do to kill Chuck, to gain his free will: the cost of his child.

Adam’s rib.

And who else might get his ribs hurt, only to be likely healed by an angel?

It’s fine, that’s fine.  I’m fine with that.

“Jack, I don’t know how to explain it but, when I found out about Chuck, it’s like I wasn’t alive.  Not really.  You know like my whole life I’ve never been free, but like really free.  But now?  Now me and Sam, we got a shot at living a life, without all this crap on our backs.  And that’s, that’s because of you.  So, I want to say, I need to say...thank you, Jack.  Thank you.”

I’m gonna have to do a separate post about just Dean in this episode, because there is so fucking much to talk about, but there are a couple of things that I think are important:  Dean realizes how wrong he was, to say what he said.  He knows that it’s not true, this is the way he’s always coped with loss, by pushing the person to be lost away, but for Jack to hear it?  He can’t stand for that.

And:

Dean has finally pushed through the barrier.  He won’t be quiet in the face of his doubts anymore.  This is a breakthrough for him, and, of course, there are more to come.

SAM

Sam and Cas, my chaos duo.

The box, the inscription, the door.

Death’s library, filled with dead reapers.

And there it is.  The Empty.

It tells Sam the plan, the plan for Billie to take God’s place.  For everything to go back to the way it’s “supposed to be.”

This has always been the game, since season 13.  This is the longest of long games.

Sam fuckin Winchester, lying his way out of a confrontation with the Empty like the legend that he is.

He comes back with a new purpose: to stop Billie’s plan, and here’s where we get to the heart of the episode and maybe the heart of the season.

“You hear that?  Dean, brought to the edge of doubt.  His sense of duty, his rage winning out in the end.  And poor Sam, always gotta know everything.  Can’t leave well enough alone.  This is my ending, my real ending.”

The gun comes out, pointed at Sam.

Hmm...what did I say during 15x05?  Oh yeah, this.

And:

Dean would never survive killing Sam, but he’s willing to do anything, anything to earn his freedom.  His ending, where one brother kills the other and then kill himself.

Why, you might ask, did Sam not mention that the angels would be sent back to Heaven, why does he not mention Cas?  I’ll tell you why, or rather, Becky will.

Plus, Dean looks back at Cas IMMEDIATELY when Sam says that, when he mentions Eileen, and THAT’S the first time he hesitates.  He can’t lose Cas.  But at the same time, he’s willing to do anything to have his freedom.

“Sam we don’t have a choice, Jack’s about to blow!”

“We always have a choice!”

You know me, just sitting here thinking about choice, the ability to choose, and how that translates to their free will.

And Sam...I don’t think there will ever be characters I love as much as these.

“I don’t care if Billie gets what she wants!  I don’t man, I’d trade it all, I’d trade em all for Chuck.  In a heartbeat!”

“What about me?”

“You’d trade me?”

“Chuck has to die.  He has to!  Otherwise he’ll keep us tap dancing forever, and I can’t live like that man, I can’t live like that, I won’t!”

“I know you feel like that right now, okay? I know you do, but you gotta trust me.  My entire life, you’ve protected me.  From Dad, from Lucifer, from everything.  I didn’t always like it, you know?  But it’s the one thing in the whole world that I could always count on.  It’s the only thing I’ve ever known that was true.  So please, put the gun away.  Just put it away.  We’ll figure it out, Dean, we’ll find another way, you and me.  We always do.”

Okay I feel like this is going to be one of those scenes that I cry watching for years to come.  Because fuck.  After fifteen years they finally admit that not only did Dean protect Sam from Lucifer, but he protected him from John.  John.  On a par with Lucifer.

Dean and Sam have, for so many years, sacrificed themselves for the other.  Dean’s demon deal, Sam and the trials, every season they have fought to see who can die the quickest for the other.  But this?  This is them fighting to stop the violence, to stop from killing the big bad.  This is them growing, in our eyes, in real time.  Sam has always been able to get through to Dean when no one else had a prayer, but for Dean to listen, for Dean to take his words to heart, to stop the hunt for Sam, for their family, that’s how you know they do have free will.

(Btw Chuck’s eye effect when he dusted Amara was sick as fuck but I’m emo for my boys so.)

Chuck knows it’s a loss, he knows that his story has, once again, been thwarted by the boys making their own choices.  And he’s pissed, but in his anger, we get a bomb dropped on us.

“Spare me your contempt Castiel, the self-hating angel of Thursday.  You know what every other version of you did after “gripping him tight and raising him from perdition”?  They did what they were told.  But not you.  Not the one off the line with a crack in his chassis.”

Are you fucking kidding me?

Also, just worth bringing up this one as well:

Every Castiel pulled Dean out of Hell.  Every one told him the same thing.  And yet, immediately, with this Cas and this Dean, something was different.  Because what has everyone seen about Cas, from the moment he met Dean?

And there’s our endgame people.  Laid out on the line.

But we ain’t done yet, fam.

We’ve talked about the handprint, but you know:

So there you have it, our prep into the “monumental” 15x18.  I have spec on that, of course, but I think a novel is long enough for this.

What to take away: Dean’s rage was always Chuck’s plan, they do have free will, their love for each other, for their family, is what will stop Chuck’s control, Death is about to come back with a vengeance, Cas’ deal is at play, and, most importantly, Castiel and Dean Winchester are a blind spot for Chuck, something he has never, not once, controlled.

[peralta-guaranteed]

Would u write something about Mac first words being "dad" o "daddy" and Jake GOING INSANE about that? I think it would be really special to him bc all his story with his dad and all his fear on becoming

He'd taken his eyes off of him for five seconds - the card machine at the bodega was giving him some prompt he'd never seen before - so of course something had to happen. Jake still mostly banked on Mac being unable to walk freely for more than a few steps from him, but he should've really factored in all the perfect toddler-height shelving that he could use as railings to get a whole aisle over before he and the cashier flinched from the sound of a crash.

And then the crying started.

The cashier was actually faster than him, given a headstart from not having to drop an entire basket of shopping to run over, but Jake was directly behind her to see his kid sitting on the ground, a puddle of something slopping around him and half over him. Pasta sauce, he realised as he saw the wobbly carton display that had obviously not been as steady as the metal shelves Mac had been holding onto before.

"Da...!" Mac sobbed with outstretched arms towards him. "Da-heee..." He wailed again with tears streaming down his face while Jake lifted him up, covering himself in sauce too as Mac clung to him and sobbed into his shoulder.

"Daddy's here, bud. It's okay. It's okay." He bounced him up and down as the crying slowed, cursing himself out in his head all the while. How did he let him wander away like that? Why did he not notice sooner? He'd been careless and stupid and irrespsonsible and a horrible fath-

"Is he okay?" The cashier still looked far more worried at them than at the mess she'll have to clean up now, and it gladly brought him back to centre as the only real adult in the room right now (she can't be more than 17, he thinks).

"Yeah, just spooked. I'm so sorry, I'll pay for the sauce of course-" Jake stopped as Mac lifted his head off his shoulder again, eyes red-rimmed but not crying anymore, at least, only to see that his forehead was less covered in pasta sauce and more smeared with blood from a cut over his eyebrow, and his heart dropped even deeper than when he heard the crash. "Actually, do you sell bandaids?"

-*-

"It's okay, peanut. Daddy's fixing it." He forces his voice to be soft and calm while Mac sniffles, sitting on the counter, the cashier picking up Jake's dropped shopping bags while he cleans the little cut with the alcohol wipes she'd handed him without even ringing them up. It's not that bad, he tries to comfort himself fruitlessly, just a little nick that bled a bit more than usual, but should be fine with a bandaid and some lotion. It's fine. He didn't- he didn't let Mac get actually injured. He didn't. Even though his subconscious was screaming nothing else at him.

Mac's eyes are still swimming while he stares up at Jake, unblinking, clinging to his fake-soft smile as probably the only thing to convince him there was no need to cry at the moment. You and me both, Jake thinks for a second.

"Daddeh." He squeaks softly as Jake sticks on a puppy-themed bandaid (also not rung up), and grabs his hand with his little grubby fingers, and time kind of stops for a moment as they look at each other. Mac's eyes are big and still slightly red-rimmed, but trained on him like there's nothing else in the world but them, and for Jake, there might as well not be.

"See, Daddy fixed it." The cashier breaks through, smiling at him too as she hands Jake his shopping with the bandaid box dropped in, and time loops back into normal. She gets a soft Thanks and a nod after she hands him his card from the blasted machine that started it all, too, and doesn't even mention the several jars broken an aisle over. She waves goodbye to Mac instead as they leave, and Jake is definitely leaving the largest bills he has in her tip jar next time they come in.

-*-

Mac's splashing water and bubbles around in his small tub, because the sauce had leaked through his dungarees straight over his legs, and Jake is busy scrubbing him down with the soft loofah that'll probably have to go into the trash after all this. There's too much swirling through his head while he carefully showers Mac off. A whole barrage of emotion he'd love to just aimlessly ramble out, but there's no one to listen to him in their little apartment right now, the only person who'd maybe understand him still stuck at work. He looks at the puppy bandaid on Mac's forehead that he'll have to change after the bath, at his happy face playing with the little ducky that makes such fun squeaky noises when it's filled with water, no sign of tears or pain left at all.

"Hey, Mac-a-roni." Jake whispers while Mac giggles and splashes some more water out of the baby-tub into the big one it was sitting in. "You... said something at the bodega, didn't you?"

Mac had been babbling and making noises for months now, lots of Goos and Gaas, the occasional Bleh and Duh thrown in, but Jake and Amy had agreed that none of those had been discernible as words yet, especially as they were never directed at anything in particular. Not like on the counter back there, staring straight at him with his big, chocolate eyes after that little parenting disaster he still wanted to scold himself for. Not like right now, soap bubbles clinging to his curls, smiling up at him in the comforting moment of their usual night routine.

"Daddeh!" Mac squeaks again, holding his arms out to be picked up into a towel like always, but held against Jake's chest much tighter than usual. He's trying not to cry, very hard, but he's sure his eyes are swimming and shiny as much as Mac's were while he was being bandaged up.

"Daddeh." He repeats as Jake laughs, breathlessly, kisses up and down his perfect chubby cheeks for some more squeals and laughter from them both, hugs him close again and again even as he dries him off and gets him dressed.

There's something warm glowing in his chest, Jake feels as he dances Mac to sleep to abuela's Spanish lullaby tape, something that feels both familiar and foreign at once. It reminds him of the feeling that shook all through him when that firefighter placed a screaming, goo-covered baby onto Amy's chest as she cried and carefully touched the dark whisps of hair already matted to his head. That feeling that settled around his heart for forever as Rosa handed him a cleaned up, swaddled baby that wasn't screaming anymore, his eyes closed but his teensy tiny hand wrapping tight around Jake's finger. It's a little different - but it's not, it's more of the same, but grown. Added on, like a new bud on an already flowering tree.

Jake is sure there'll be lots of new blooms on that feeling in the years to come, but this one, the one that opens up even more as Mac sighs one more little "Daddeh" as he falls asleep against his shoulder, will surely be remembered for forever.

-*-

He has enough wherewithal to warn Amy about the bandaid when she gets home and immediately moves to check on sleeping Mac, and she only rolls her eyes when she drops down onto the couch next to him after softly closing the nursery door.

"Do I even want to hear the story of the bandaid?"

"It wasn't anything. Just a little accident at the bodega. He's fine." Jake's actually convinced himself of that now, too, so it sounds believable enough.

"Alright." Amy nods, he swallows back down the worries he thought about sharing if she asked him to still explain instead. "Aside from that, how was your day with him? Did you have fun?"

"Oh yeah." Jake tries to grin and pulls her in to lean against his side as she rests her head on his shoulder, seeming almost as sleepy as Mac was when he did it earlier. "We went to the park and the post office and the bank and the bodega, obviously. A whole Brooklyn adventure."

"That's nice." Amy says in a quiet voice, and he wonders if he'll have to carry her to bed in a second.

"And, well." He hesitates, and that is enough to make her lift her head. Maybe he shouldn't say it. Maybe he should wait until the morning, let her discover it on her own, and pretend like it's the first time he's hearing it too. Forget about how it all came about today.

"Well what?"

"He said something."

"What?! Why didn't you lead with that? Why didn't you text me?!?" She sits up, staring at him with wide eyes, and he looks - apologetic, almost worried.

"I didn't want you to feel bad because you missed it." And didn't want to explain how I fucked up to make it happen.

"Oh." She visibly deflates, but then smiles at him. "But you heard it, right? He said it in front of you?"

"Yeah. He, uh. Actually. He said daddy. To me."

Jake completely misinterprets Amy's face, her scrunched together eyebrows, her shining eyes, her mouth softly opening and closing, and immediately leans forward with a hand on her arm to console her.

"I'm sure he's going to say Mama next, Ames - he's already going 'Mah' all the time, so-"

"He called you daddy?" Her voice is so soft, almost breaking, as he feels her hands on his cheek. "Jake, that's wonderful!"

"Yeah." He nods with a shy smile, but Amy's face only softens more.

"You're his first word." She says with so much reverance, and he can't feel bad about it anymore. Can't think he doesn't really deserve it, not when she looks at him with that much love in her eyes. "You're Mac's first word."

"I'm daddeh." His smile isn't so shy anymore, not when he says it out loud like that, not when it feels 100% right.

"You're really daddy, babe. You're daddy."

He huffs and smiles even wider with another nod, and that feeling is back, that little warm glow blooming in his chest, and Amy is quick to wipe away the few tears that make their way down his cheeks all of a sudden before bending forward for a kiss.

"DADDEH!" echoes through the room from behind a closed door where someone is clearly not interested in sleeping anymore, and Amy laughs against his lips.

"See?"

"I'm gonna go and get him." Jake sighs happily.

"Oh please." She nods as he gets up. "I want to see him say it to you."

[depravitymoon]

Yandere Bruno x Darling headcanons

TW: Yandere stuff, kidnapping, breeding kink.

Regardless of who darling is, these traits of Yandere Bruno do not change:

- Breeding Kink

- Force you to be a housewife

Yes, being a mafioso and having a family is dangerous. However, this is Yandere!Bruno we’re talking about; A love sick psycho version of canon Bruno. Also, this is Sottocapo!Bruno, (I’ll explain that in another post), so he has more freedoms to have a family than a mere capo and soldato. He just doesn’t have a lot of free time, which is why you won't be allow to have a job. Your job will be to raise the perfect happy family Bruno always wanted. Having about 2 to 8 children should keep you too busy to even think about escaping him.

Think of the rest of this HC as a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure summary with alot of branching.

The main branch is Accepting Bruno’s love or constantly rejecting him.

Yandere tenedencies only show up if you reject him. At first rejection, he'll secretly make sure your other dates are unsuccessful. Once you’re sad and lonely, he’ll ask you out again. If you reject him again, that’s when the yandere tendencies increases. He’ll get very close to you family, helping them in any way he can, acting like an angel sent from God. Of course, you know that’s not it. You’re a grown woman that sees right through him. You know he’s sending a subtle message. If you accept his feeling by then, that’s the end of his yandere antics. If you reject him a third time, he’ll straight up kidnap you. He’ll isolate you from EVERYONE until you learn to accept your new role as his wife. 

Worst Case Scenario: You’re always in a room limbless, mouth zipped shut, isolated from everyone, even from your children, forced to rely on Bruno for everything; and forced to watch Bruno destroy the lives of your loved ones. He’ll get even worse if you continue resisting him for over a year.

Best Case Scenario: Stockholm syndrome kicked in and you accepted your place as Bruno’s wife. You make it very clear that you’re head of the household.. and he LOVES IT. Slap him when he’s out of line and he’ll love it too! You might convince him to have less than 4 kids with you, but that’s unlikely. Maybe 2 if you convince the rest of Bucci’s gang to help you out. That means you have to behave enough for Bruno to trust you around his gang.

The other branch: Single Mom vs Childless.

We’re assuming older darling since other people develop Daddy Dom Bruno far better. Since we all know about DDLG!Bruno, let’s talk about Bruno having a mommy kink. Considering his past, having a mama kink is possible. He’s so use to being the mama of the group, it’d be nice to be vulnerable and coddled by an older woman. How much older? A max of 10 years. Honestly, as long as darling can bear at least 4 children for him, age doesn’t matter. Preferably, darling’s between the ages of 24 to 33. 

 Bruno doesn’t mind a single mom darling. In fact, it’d help with his delusion that you need a savior. Ideally, darling would be a struggle single mom of young children. Whether or not you’re a mom determines the speed in which he goes crazy. Bruno’s obsession wouldn’t be immediate. He’d let it fester for years.  For single mom darling it’d be 2 years. For childless darling, it’d be 6 years.

Dark Route/”Bad Ending” Head canons

If you’re a single mother darling, Bruno’s obsession will start faster. You’re a poor struggling single mom raising toddlers! You need a spouse to help you. Your adorable children deserve a father! The longer he waits, the harder it’ll be to bond with the kids, so he needs to act fast. Good news: He’ll be more reluctant to kill your family. He knows how traumatic losing a loved one can be for a child. He’ll have to settle on ruining their lives and forcing you to see it unravel. When your loved ones are ruined “because of your actions” (as Bruno says), your kids will end up in Bruno’s care while you’re “missing”. As soon as you give up, Bruno will “find you” and you two “start dating”

Childless Darling will be less aware of Bruno’s obsession. You could know him for 6 years and his crush will never be obvious. However, post-kidnapping, he’ll show less mercy. It’s always better to give in to Bruno, but especially if you’re childless. If you don’t accept his love within a year, your loved ones will start dying. Worst of all, he won’t refrain from impregnating you while in captivity. He’ll give you a year to “calm down”, then you’ll just be giving birth in your “luxurious” jail cell.  Normally, Bruno wants 4 kids but if you push him and keep resisting him after a year, you’re having 6 kids. He knows how to pick a darling. He knows you’re not about to abandon your children.

Fluff Route/”Good Ending” Headcanons

Now if you do behave, you’ll be a spoiled housewife with 3 to 6 kids. Even 8 if you truly want more kids. He’ll be protective, but not to yandere levels. He’ll also call you Mammina in private, but that’s for a different headcanon.

I totally see Bruno either being the best Yandere or the worst Yandere depending on your cooperation. You’re pampered, your family’s helped out with whatever they need, your enemies are taken out like the trash they are, you’re allowed a social life (as long as Bruno approves of your choices), and you can even make friends with the other mob wives (the other darlings of the Bucci gang). 

You want a spa day? Go for it. 

You got a family reunion to go to? Go for it.

You want a super expensive shopping spree? Go for it. 

It’s payment for being an amazing wife and the perfect mother of his adorable babies.

[thegryffindorprincess]

Too Hasty//Draco Malfoy x Reader

A/N: OKAY I’M SO SORRY I JUST LEFT THE WHOLE PLATFORM FOR LIKE A MONTH! Basically, I caught covid-19 (lmao) and have been dying for a few weeks, but today was my first day out of my uni halls and first day back in lessons so I’m back for now. Here’s a cute ass little story for you all, I will be back x

Word Count: 1,818

Set: Post War

Warnings: Literally none, just cute

Harry Potter stood in the door way of the dining room at the back of Grimmauld Place fondly, looking at the people sitting around the table. Hermione and Ron were sat together reading, him noticing her grinning slightly when Ron needed to read a passage of text out loud to understand what it was he was reading. His eyes shifted to George, Luna and Neville who were attempting to balance as many goblets on top of each other as possible, erupting into a fit of giggles when it fell, Luna casually flicking her wand before they made a large bang on the table. He also watched his fiance, Ginny coo at Teddy Tonks who was babbling away in his high chair, using the few words he knew to communicate that he was demanding more pumpkin juice. And finally, Harry smiled as Draco Malfoy attempted to spoon feed Teddy some very odd looking green paste that he’d read encourages toddlers motor skills. When their eyes met they shared a very understanding glance. Teddy giggled as the goop touched his nose, spraying some of it onto Draco, causing the blonde man to grimace slightly but smile at the small boy instead. Harry moved towards the table and began to stack the plates onto one another, moving them into the kitchen.

“Hey Harry, let me help you.” Draco said, wiping Teddy’s dribbling mouth, going to stand, starting to pick up a few of the plates. Harry smiled at him thankfully and the two of them began to wash up the dishes in the kitchen. Harry Potter liked this Draco Malfoy and was amazed at the man he had grown up to be. Since the war- and since Harry had saved him from a stint in Azkaban, Draco had devoted himself to things that brought the world good. He’d trained long and hard to become a Healer, helping to care for vunerable people who were affected by the war, he’d taken on Teddy as his own son, moving in with the Order of the Pheonix to not only care for his second cousin every day but to help his new found friends with their fight against dark magic. Everything about his new life appeared to be perfect, except one thing. As Draco and Harry finished off drying Teddy’s “Chudley Cannon’s” bowl, brought for him by Ron, the shrill sound of the door bell sounded throughout the hall. Harry jumped a little, excusing himself from the others and walked towards the door, right hand resting on his wand that was stuck out of his pocket. He flung the door open. The cool air from the evening night hit his face and a figure that had been waiting patiently away from the door turned to face him.

“Harry!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in. Y/N Y/L/N was stood in the weak evening sunlight, her skin glowing. Her features were so gentle that they seemed painted, her hair was done up, wand stuck through it. She was grinning from ear to ear, skin tanned. 

“Y/N! Come in, come in. You must tell us where you’ve been!” Harry helped her in, taking her suitcases and resting them by the staircase. Y/N entered Grimmauld Place, taking in how much it had brightened up and changed since the last time she’d visited. She wondered into the dining room, exchanging hugs and greetings with her friends, all of them exclaiming how amazing she looked and how much they’d missed her. She smiled back at them all, thanking them for their kindness. 

“Oh it’s been amazing! Paris was just beautiful I am so glad I went. I feel like I’ve finally got over-” Y/N stopped suddenly, looking over to the figure who’d just emerged from the kitchen. Draco had been hiding in the darkness of the kitchen, but now was stood awkwardly in the dining room’s light. “Draco.” She breathed, finishing her sentence. He waved a little, throwing her a tiny smile. She didn’t respond. Pretending she hadn’t seen it, she continued with her anecdote, animatedly telling the group about her world traveling, her visit to most of the wizarding Ministries of Magic and her new career editing the Daily Prophet. The group listened intensely, hanging on her every word, Hermione keeping her eye on Draco as he stared nervously at his feet, remaining at the door. Y/N also told Teddy about the creatures she’d met from other countries, taking pride in the way he glowed. The conversation came to an end.

“Will you be staying Y/N?” Ginny asked grinning, “please say you’re staying!” Y/N laughed at her best friend.

“If it’s not any trouble, I can always go to the Leaky Caul-”

“No way.” Hermione said firmly, “you must stay here.” With that, Hermione took Y/N’s hand and led her up the stairs, Ginny and Luna following behind. Hermione took them into one of the spare bedrooms, where Luna’s bed was already set up and waved her wand, creating a new blow-up style bed on the floor. Y/N thanked her gently, throwing her heavy bags down by the dresser. The girls stayed for a while, making themselves comfortable in the room. They sat in silence.

“I didn’t know Draco was living with you now.” Y/N said quietly, making sure her face remained neutral. 

“Yeah,” Hermione said, fidgiting with her sleeves, “he’s lived with us ever since his charges were dropped.” Y/N nodded quickly, going back to unpacking her bags. 

“I’m sure Y/N doesn’t want to be bored by chat of her ex fiance.” Ginny slightly snapped, pulling Hermione with her, nearing the door. “We’ll let you sleep now, goodnight girls.”

Once they left, Y/N and Luna got ready for bed, exchanging slight chat as they did so, Luna very interested in Y/N’s travels.

“You know,” said Luna quietly as they both snuggled up into the covers, “Draco really is quite different now.” Before turning over and closing her eyes dreamily. Y/N huffed a little, turning over herself.

“Let’s not be too hasty.” Y/N mumbled, huffing again before going to sleep.

XXXX

The morning came quickly for Y/N who’d spent most of the night awake. At five in the morning, she slipped out of bed, putting on her dressing gown and gently plopping down the stairs. She wandered into the kitchen quietly, trying not to disturb the sleeping house. As she went towards the kettle, a figure moved out into the light, causing her to jump slightly. 

“Draco!” She whispered, clutching her chest. He smiled at her softly, a small baby bottle in his hand, which he was shaking. 

“How are you?” Draco asked, running a pale hand through his platinum hair, letting it hang messily in front of his eyes. “I feel like yesterday was a bit of a um shock for us both.” Y/N looked awkwardly, filling the kettle up with water, tapping it with her wand.

“Yeah it was a little odd, I mean last time I saw you you were a death eater and now you’re some kind of fucking saint.” As the words left her mouth, she watched his face fall. Her hands shot up to her mouth. “I’m sorry....I-”

“I can hear Teddy crying for his bottle,” Draco whispered horsely, pushing past her as he left the kitchen, “I’ll see you later.” Y/N watched him leave, unsure of what to say. She continued to make her tea, eyes threatening to spill tears as she sat at the table. Her owl flew in through the window, dropping the Daily Prophet onto the table top. She thanked it, before settling down to read in the morning sunlight.

XXXX

When the rest of the house arose, they were rushing around getting ready for work. Knowing Draco would be staying home all day with Teddy, some of the gangs attempted to haul her to work with them, George explaining how much he’d love to have her at the shop, Ginny saying that Y/N would be more than welcome to help referee, but she politely rejected all of them. They left one after another, all looking very important and busy. As Ron shut the door behind him, the last one to leave, the house fell into a sudden silence. Y/N watched from the dining room as Draco played with Teddy, teaching him letters from a small leather bound book. His face was painted in a gentle happiness as he watched the small boy fondly, running his hands through his dark locks. She watched closely as Teddy’s eyes began to flutter close, Draco hauling him up onto the sofa and covering him in a blanket from the chest on the floor. As Draco placed a small kiss on his forehead, Y/N entered, settling on the living room floor and tidying some of Teddy’s toys away.

“Leave that,” Draco said, swatting her away, “I’ve got it.” Y/N shuffled awkwardly from him, letting him squish past to grab the toys. 

“I wanted to say sorry.” Y/N began, looking Draco in the eyes for the first time since last night, “You didn’t deserve that. I shouldn’t have spoken to you in that way.” Draco nodded, continuing to tidy up the floor. 

“I’ve not stopped thinking about you.” He slightly whispered. Y/N felt like she’d stopped breathing for a moment. “Not dated, not kissed, not,” he lowered his voice, looking over to Teddy to ensure he was asleep, “fucked anybody else.” 

“Really?” She asked. “Neither have I for the record I couldn’t.” Draco swallowed, looking down at her, where she sat on the floor. 

“I kept my promise to you.” Y/N cocked her head a little confused. He rolled up his sleeve, showing her the nearly faded dark mark that still lay in his skin. “I will counter act my evil until my mark disappears for you.” Her mouth fell open as she watched how he flinched at the sight of his arm. She leant up, Draco allowing her gentle fingers to stroke the mark. 

“For me?” She repeated. 

“You.” Draco watched her carefully as she stood from where she was standing, moving closer to him. He automatically pulled her into him, just like he always had. 

“Kiss me idiot.” She said grinning, allowing him to grab her jaw softly, pulling her into a glowing kiss. She felt her skin heat up as her pressed closer to her bringing her closer and closer. 

“Uncle Dray?” A tiny voice squeaked from the sofa. The two shot round just in time to watch Teddy looking confused at them. 

“Yes Ted?” Draco quickly said, regaining his composure. 

“Is that your new wife?” Teddy asked innocently, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Y/N began to giggle a little, covering her mouth with her hand. Draco began to laugh to, walking over to Teddy and pulling him into a cuddle.

“Let’s not be too hasty hey Ted.” 

[hnychn]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄 [𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈]

summary : levi wanted to believe the Fates were kind, but he should have known better

warnings : character death, heavy loss, a single mention of suicide, more greek myth allusions, fem! reader

word count : 3000+

a/n : omgomgomg tysm @yeehawslap for giving me permission to write this, i swear when i read their post i was immediately inspired to write this and i'm so sorry to your feelings :') also i swear i changed the title of this like, ten times

attack on titan masterlist || navigation

The Fates had dealt Levi a rough life. 

When the goddess Clotho had spun the thread of his life, she must have incorporated thorns into every string; even now Levi could feel the pricks of guilt that chipped away at his soul each time he opened the bottom drawer of his desk and faced the bloodied scout patches of the lives lost.. 

Lachesis had enforced his life; she had been the one to use his thread to create. Although, Levi must admit, the fates must have favored him a tiny bit if they had sent you to him. You, his lovely wife whom he met one late evening under the stars, a gash on his head and gauze in your hand ready for you to patch up. 

You had been there to take out every thorn in his thread Clotho had stuck in his life; every ounce of guilt, every second of regret had been a burden on his shoulders you relieved by simply being there. 

Perhaps the Fates weren't all that bad. 

They must have been even just an ounce of virtuous if they had allowed him to call you his forever. The fates had strung together a love story into his thread of life and allowed him to invite someone into the most intimate parts of him, allow him to find peace within someone; to create a life together. 

Levi could remember the day when you burst into his office, a smile so bright he was sure even the sun was envious of the warmth you radiated. No words were spoken as you pulled him into your arms and cried. 

It was only through hiccups and sobs did he hear your soft voice tell him he had created a life. And while your stomach was still as flat as it had been the night before and many nights before that, he pressed his hand against it nonetheless and promised to protect the life within you until his very last breath. 

Perhaps the Fates weren't all that bad. 

Isabel, as the two of you named your daughter, had become a nearly carbon copy of her father. not only did she share many features in common with him, she also inherited his strength. 

She was able to hold her head up on her own only a mere months after birth, and she often gave you a terrible fright when she climbed out of her crib at night with a strength a toddler shouldn't have. Though, it was of no real surprise to either of you; you were sure your womb must have taken a terrible beating with the strength of her kicks while she was still growing inside of you. 

And, with her strength and many similarities with her father, came her desire to join the scouts. 

It was the first time in her life Levi had denied her something. 

Admittedly, little Isabel had her cold, ruthless captain of a father wrapped around her stubby little finger since the moment you pushed her out of your womb. You could hear the way he promised to give her anything her little heart desired and often you found yourself being more strict with her. 

Though, this had been Levi's one fear. 

Levi has seen countless people fall beyond the walls. He's witnessed Farlan and Isabel (his daughter's namesake) tragically torn to pieces by those wandering monsters. He’s seen countless bodies piled up in wagons to return to the walls for burning. 

You’ve seen your fair share of horrors, too. You’ve seen the injuries people walk into your clinic with, the blood gushing through gaping wounds, their bones snapped in angles they shouldn't, the limbs you've had to amputate; and the sheer image of your daughter being one of them was enough for you to turn green with sickness. 

There were countless arguments between Levi and Isabel (you often found yourself the mediator of these fights and cursing the fates for making both father and daughter stubborn as mules). But ultimately, Levi had caved as he always did, and promised to train her harder than anyone else in the training corps.

True to his word, Isabel often returned home with bruises and collapsed next to you on the couch, her head falling into your lap with fatigue. You smiled as you ran your fingers through her hair as she tiredly recounted her training with her father and other members of the Training Corps. 

She had recounted many stories of the friends she’s made there; an arrogant boy named Jean who she loved to tease and roughhouse with, a boy with a buzzcut named Connie she liked to mess around with and prank occasionally, and a girl named Sasha. 

The dusty pink on her cheeks when she told you stories about her sprouted an inkling inside of you that made you think she was more than just a friend to your daughter. You only smiled as she went on. 

Though, late at night, when your husband had long ago fallen asleep and your daughter was tucked safely away in her room, did you find yourself praying to the Fates. You prayed no arm would come to your daughter and she would lead the happy life she deserved. You prayed the Fates were kind.  

Perhaps . . . the Fates weren't kind . . .  

Levi should have known the fates hadn't meant to give him a life as peaceful as his (or as peaceful as it could be with you and Isabel by his side). He should have known better than to think the Fates were righteous.  

Afterall, the goddess Atropos always came to collect what was due. Atropos was the third and final Fate, the goddess who cut the threads her sisters weaved and toyed with. She was the one who claimed souls. Atropos watched time and time again as Levi avoided her attempts to collect his thread and grew frustrated the more he slipped through her fingers like sand. So, Atropos did the next best thing. 

She stole a life close to him. 

Levi could feel his blood run cold when Jean walked in, his hands fisting the shirts of two children and his eyes wild with shock. His words were shaky and his eyes were covered in a daze of denial, as if his mind was trying to protect him from the inevitable heartbreak he would experience. 

Levi waited with a bated breath for Jean to crack a smile and admit this was all some sick joke he could punish him later for. That his whole thing was nothing but a nightmare and he was bak at home, cuddled in bed with you and your daughter was sleeping soundly in her room just down the hall. 

But he knew it wasn't a dream, not when you gasped as you did, when he could practically see your heart shattering in your eyes and the way you nearly pushed him to the floor as you ran to the back of the airship. Levi followed close. 

"ISABEL!" 

You had practically thrown Connie to the side to get to your daughter. Her eyes were hazy with the same veil of death you had seen time and time again with your patients and friends. Sasha stood still to the side, her eyes wide and her hands shaking, “should have been me, it should have been me.” She chanted the words like a spell that would somehow transfer the wound to her, a spell that would miraculously heal your daughter who lay on the cold hard floor of the airship, blood slowly seeping out of her. 

The logical medic in your brain delivered you the harsh truth as you assessed your daughter and her wounds. The unforgiving voice hissed in your ear about her inevitable death, the wound is too fatal, there’s no way she’ll make it back to the island. You hushed the voice as quick as it spoke, your heart denying the severity of the situation. 

"oh," Levi could only watch as you clutched onto Isabel, your hands working like clockwork as they put pressure on her wound despite the violent shake in them, "oh, my baby..." 

Levi took a hesitant step closer. It was haunting, watching his daughter who held so many of his qualities lay on the floor, bleeding to death. He had remembered the many times she pulled his hair as a child, giggling loudly as she pointed out the obvious, ‘I’m just like you, daddy!’ 

Oh, how he wished he could go back to those moments. When his daughter was nothing but a small child he cradled in his arms, tucking her safely under his chin as he gently rocked her side to side to lully her back into a deep sleep. He wished to go back to the nights he held your hair back as your stomach churned with nausea and your daughter was but a growing fetus, protected within the walls of your womb. 

"M . . . mommy . . .” Isabel breathed. 

You sobbed harder, "it's okay baby, i'm here, mommy's here." 

You ran your fingers through her hair, hushed her and soothing her as you once did many years ago when she was nothing but a small baby clutching onto the material of your dress. 

She had been so tiny then, so fragile and sweet and innocent. But she had long since grown out of her baby face and matured into a strong woman you were proud to have nurtured. But in this moment, it was as if she returned to the same fragile baby as she was years ago as she clutched onto the straps of your gear like a lifeline, her eyes dull but full of fear and hesitance.

"Mommy please, i'm- s' scared . . ." her voice was breathy and you could see the energy drain from her eyes the harder she tried to keep them open.

You wanted to be selfish, to tell her to keep her eyes open, to keep breathing and push through the pain. But you could see the pain flash in her eyes each time she took a breath, you could hear her breathy wince with every movement she made, and you knew you couldn’t be selfish. 

Levi could see your resolve slowly crumble, the way the shake in your hands grew more and more violent and he could practically see the screams bubble in your throat as you tried to swallow them down to comfort your daughter. Levi knew if he didn't step in now, there would be no salvaging the broken pieces of you after this. 

"It’s okay, princess." Levi crouched down on the other side of his daughter, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he tried to keep his composure. 

Her head slowly turned to him, "d-daddy . . . ?" 

Levi hummed, "Yeah, it's me princess. It’s okay, you did so well, you were so brave." 

"I was?" her words were breathy and rushed as she tried to cling on to the last threads of her life. You could feel her grip in your gear lose its strength and you nearly let the screams clawing at your throat escape. 

pleasepleasepleaseplease, you begged, not her please not my baby. 

"So brave." 

Levi had never felt so helpless watching his daughter's eyes lose their life, he could only sit there and reassure her that everything would be fine and she had done good as she took her last breaths. Images of the other Isabel laying dead on the floor flashed through his mind and Levi nearly vomited. 

"I love you" 

Levi nodded, "I know. I love you too, princess. Now rest." 

The winds howled loudly outside, but there was nothing loud enough to drown out the screams that had finally escaped from you as you gripped your daughter’s hand so tight your knuckles turned white. Levi held you close as tears of his own dripped down his face and an indescribable weight placed itself in his heart.  

The Fates were not kind. 

Life after that seemed to lose its shine. 

Your home was hauntinly quiet. Every inch of the home had memories of your daughter carved into the wooden frame. Her first words, her first steps, her first breath. You had given birth to your daughter in the living room, and where the walls once gave you comfort and warmed your heart with reminders of the first life you had brought into the world, it now made you sick with grief and added to the weight in your heart. She had taken her first steps in the hallways, clutching your fingers tight as you guided her down the hall to Levi who waited for her with a proud smile. Her first words had been in the kitchen, where you and Levi cooked dinner for your quaint little family and she called out to the two of you, begging for attention. And who was Levi to deny his princess? 

You and Levi struggled to find your places in the world after that. Late at night, the two of you often clung to each other for comfort. Though, you knew Isabel’s death was hitting Levi harder than you. You could see it in the way he tucked her Scout badge into the left breast pocket of his shirts, hoping to keep the memory of her close to his heart; the way he avoided every mirror like it was the plague. You could see it in the way he flinched whenever he caught sight of his reflection, his own steel grey eyes and matted black hair staring hauntingly back at him. 

Isabel had taken after her father the most, afterall. 

You also found Levi’s features a bit hard to look at after that. It was hard to look into his eyes and see your daughter staring right back at you with a pleading look to not leave. There had been late night conversations where Levi assured you he knew of his similarities to Isabel and promised to not be mad if you wanted to leave him, 'I find it hard to look at myself sometimes.'

But you only held him tighter and stuck closer to his side, washing away any thoughts he had of you leaving him. You married him because you loved him, and nothing could change that. Even if he looked so similar to your lost daughter. 

The Fates also decided to make your lives a bit harder, as if taking away your first born hadn’t been enough suffering to put you both through. Levi had been sent away with Zeke into hiding. Initially, you wanted to go with him, to stick by his side and cling to your life support, but the others hadn’t allowed it. 

Hango could only grip your wrist tight as you watched Levi climb into the carriage and ride away. 

You begged Hange not to leave you alone after that; because you knew if you were left alone for long enough, there would be nothing stopping you from joining your daughter in the afterlife. 

Hange stayed by your side. 

You wanted to vomit. 

You could feel the sickening churn in your stomach as you stared down at the very girl who had stolen the life from your daughter. The images of your daughter clutching on to you tightly and her scared voice begging you to comfort her rang loud in your ears. Your mouth had dried instantly, any one of the thousand of words rattling in your head stopped by the numbness in your mouth. There were so many things you wanted to say, so many words you wanted to exchange with the girl who had taken your child from you. 

You could see Nicolo’s mouth move and his adam's apple bob with every sound he made, but it was all muffled whitenoise as your eyes trained onto the little girl who stared up at you with a look of horror and fear. 

“ . . . kill her,” Nicolo’s voice buzzed in your ears. 

You hadn’t even realised you took the knife from his hands until you heard Hange speak up from behind you. She begged you to put the knife down, to think rationally. 

But how could you? How could your mind think of anything other than harming the girl who was the cause of all your pain? When the girl who murdered your daughter was right in front of you, sitting on her knees, vulnerable. Your heart screamed and thrashed against the veins that held it in place for you to stab her, to make her feel the same pain your baby had to go through. 

But then she looked up at you. Her eyes were wide with the same fear and pleading look your daughter had in her final moments. You dropped the knife, your shoulders shaking as your eyes lined with unshed tears. 

“Kill a child. . . you- you want me to kill a child. . .” Armin stared at you from the side as your shoulders sagged and a few tears escaped your eyes, and he couldn’t help but realize how tired you looked. As if the weight the world had placed on your shoulders was finally catching up to you and your body struggled to carry it any longer. 

“I can’t do that. She’s a child. Someone’s daughter.” You collapsed to the floor, your hands digging to the carpet underneath you, “I can’t kill a child, not while I know what it feels like to lose your own. I can’t put another mother through the same pain I’m in. I just- can’t.” 

Hange kneeled next to you and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, her lips pressed into a thin line and sympathy swimming in her eyes for her friend who had lost her world. You looked back up to Gabi and she nearly flinched with how broken and tired your eyes looked, “I can only hope she’s found peace in the afterlife. . . 

“I can only hope the Goddesses of Fate are kind to her soul.”