#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

[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.

[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

[ladyofthelands]

The below is not mine, i m only taking out of the read more for posterity, so it is not lost. All glory to OP

@lizasweetling (all indented bits from here will be hers):

Because Sith. Bad for mental health of the user and generally bad for their environs But also baby. And if hes dragging Maul around no doubt the dude is constantly himself confused why he is here Like yeah, Sidious sucked, and this 6-9yo is way powerful and knowledgeable on the dark side (?????) But why are we going to the Jedi? And not even trying to kill them apparently?????

Anakin is very much being affected by Baby Brain and Baby Endocrine System. He cries a lot more than he should.

I WASN'T THINKING OF HIM BRINGING MAUL BUT YEAH. THAT'S. THAT'S A POSSIBILITY.

Jedi Council trying to decide if this is more "Adult Sith got shrunk" or "child got evil man's memories." Vader wants to know why it even MATTERS. (He didn't actually plan on telling them, but he has very little self control right now.)

The first Good Act he does is tell them where to find Ventress and Ky. (In the originally timeline, he viewed Ventress as like. Cool older cousin.)

Vader's right, that distinction does not matter Aaaw, she deserves that, that's nice Maybe she will be like 20% less homocidally traumatized

Anakin is furious when Maul and Obi-Wan pick him up under one arm like a package. He is a GROWN MAN he is an ADULT he was a SITH LORD and about to be a FATHER, he is TOO OLD FOR THIS.

They point out that he is Baby.

😂 sorry lord of evil, you're too baby, have a nap and maybe your feel better. Assuming the crisis on Naboo is still happening, and as such the vote of no confidence is right now, it might be a great time to report Sidious as a Sith lord. Post-escape from Sidious, both he and Maul definitely will need a nap. It's that kinda place.

Oh, it's probably at least a year before. Anakin keeps trying to sneak off to kill the man himself, but the Jedi are more ready for his Sneaking than Mustafar was, so he keeps getting caught before he can reach the Senate.

At one point he tries to just CHARGE the place and you get Mace and Obi-Wan sprinting after him. The News captures videos of this very small child getting chased by an older Padawan and a Master and they are mostly yelling for him to PUT DOWN THE SABER.

(Sidious might see him but what's he going to do? Might cause too many problems for Sidious to be aware of Anakin's presence with the Jedi, though. Best not.)

It's probably more expensive on average to hire an assassin on a child, just in general But on a jedi youngling??? If he can even find someone to do that, it will be so very, ridiculously expensive And likely 70%+ upfront payments

Ahsoka definitely seeks him out. Toddler baby child. She adores him for reasons unclear to anyone and everyone.

!!! Baby has baby!! Vader's probably a little thrown by this. Been a while subjectively since someone just loved him. And not even for like, a reason. Baby Vader coerced into sitting obediently for nap by tired kiddo: [The council liked that]

The number of times that vader could only be convinced to nap by Obi-Wan grabbing him, caging him in his own lap, and forced to Sit Quietly until he just fell asleep like that...

He has things to do, he's not tired 😡😡😡💢 (He's 9. Distances are between 150 and 195% longer when measured with steps, he's hungry (subjectively) all the time, and has only middling coordination He so is too tired)

Anakin doesn't know Qui-Gon at all but he keeps getting stuffed into the man's top because he's just. Small enough to fit.

Like the bomb boobs gif, but it's a small child.

the indignity

You just. You can't let him get too self-important.

Vader is Disgusted every time the pediatric healers try to talk down to him like they do to other 6yos.

The difference between this and other "Vader goes back in time to the Jedi" AUs (like Force of Many Sights) is that this Vader has never been a Jedi, and doesn't know anything about them except how they fight when he's trying to kill their friends.

Also Maul's there.

Because even he has a hard time taking himself seriously when hes so easy to manhandle Rest of the time; I am fear, I am death personified As luggage child: I am so small. The tiniest. I crave violence He's probably very annoyed they keep taking away his saber And hey! Obi gets practice not losing his! Woooo!

Something something Anakin clinging to Maul's back (piggy back ride) and chewing on his head or something stupid like that. Perfect height for head biting.

ALT

ALT

You know, the classic anime head bite

Maul probably has been nominally talked into this because this 9yo is a powerful darksider But he is also the world's most annoying tiny kid Maul would've thought his phenotype would make him immune to this ridiculousness He was wrong At least the teeth are a bit less pointy than his other little brothers'? Appreciating the little things

tfw your unwanted little brother drags you to what you think is a cult but actually they're way less culty than your last two places so you just stick around to keep an eye on the little shit

Anyway. ObiMaul for this one.

They're peers They're tired They just want to sit down and not have to chase this weird little murder child They have a lot in common 😊

They are all just a little bit stupid, I love them.

Qui-Gon is a Cool Mom (throws condoms at them and books it).

Yeah, that's about as much involvement as would be appreciated They probably did a lot of sparring before the tension broke Which did not relieve said tension, generally made it worse (Competence, athleticism, sweat-) Vader is confused, but probably doesn't mind He's probably glad they're distracting each other from stopping assassinating a certain someone (Which- that is 9yo hubris. He would need help to do that)

I still can't decide where on 6yo-9yo he falls but somewhere in there

Babies means easier hiding in shirt, teenie Ahsoka, and longer for him to convince the Jedi council to do a Sith hunt before the Naboo situation

Also longer for Maul and Obi-Wan to faff about being all Tension

* Vaguely inspired by the backstory of Rulebreaker/Wildheart, which is great but significantly more of a romance fic than this.

Hey have a fun AU I came up with the other day after reading a bunch of fics with related tropes

It's a raised Sith AU. Anakin was found by Sidious well before he was found by Qui-Gon. He was raised by the Sith, is a classically horrible monster stalking about TCW to be Vader (mask and all, just as an intimidation factor instead of life support) while Ventress and Grievous and Dooku do their own things in a different section of the war. He's got a Really Fucking Weird dynamic with Obi-Wan, mostly attempting to kill him etc.

At some point, Palpatine allows Anakin and Padme to meet. The romance that blooms is one that Sheev decides is useful to him, so he lets it happen.*

Padme gets pregnant. Sidious arranges for her death. Anakin loses his entire shit and tries to kill Sidious. Obi-Wan is off trying to save Padme, unaware of Anakin getting his remaining limbs cut off by his this-universe Master. (This is important, because Anakin does remember Obi-Wan trying to save Padme.)

So we have Anakin, who was raised Sith, and just lost the only things that have mattered to him since his mom died when he was a kid, and Palpatine has pushed him further into the Dark than he ever has. Anakin… knows more about the Sith Secrets in this universe.

Anakin finds a Sithly Time Machine. Maybe on Malachor. There's an owl? Whatever.

Anakin, someone who's been Vader for the vast majority of his life, wakes up at age nine. Maybe even younger, like six. His mother is already dead at Sidious's hands. He's already roommates with Maul. He's already being trained as a baby Sith.

Anakin, being a 20 year old war veteran, is much better at escaping than Sidious has planned for. He reprograms a medical droid to take out his slave chip, steals a ship, etc. All the stuff that Maul wasn't very good at, and Anakin was too young for, so Sidious didn't have the preventative measures in place for yet.

Anakin heads for the one place and person he thinks he can trust: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(Obi-Wan is still a padawan. But this Baby Sith just declared him Adoptive Teen Dad, so.)

@lizasweetling (all indented bits from here will be hers):

Because Sith. Bad for mental health of the user and generally bad for their environs But also baby. And if hes dragging Maul around no doubt the dude is constantly himself confused why he is here Like yeah, Sidious sucked, and this 6-9yo is way powerful and knowledgeable on the dark side (?????) But why are we going to the Jedi? And not even trying to kill them apparently?????

Anakin is very much being affected by Baby Brain and Baby Endocrine System. He cries a lot more than he should.

I WASN'T THINKING OF HIM BRINGING MAUL BUT YEAH. THAT'S. THAT'S A POSSIBILITY.

Jedi Council trying to decide if this is more "Adult Sith got shrunk" or "child got evil man's memories." Vader wants to know why it even MATTERS. (He didn't actually plan on telling them, but he has very little self control right now.)

The first Good Act he does is tell them where to find Ventress and Ky. (In the originally timeline, he viewed Ventress as like. Cool older cousin.)

Vader's right, that distinction does not matter Aaaw, she deserves that, that's nice Maybe she will be like 20% less homocidally traumatized

Anakin is furious when Maul and Obi-Wan pick him up under one arm like a package. He is a GROWN MAN he is an ADULT he was a SITH LORD and about to be a FATHER, he is TOO OLD FOR THIS.

They point out that he is Baby.

😂 sorry lord of evil, you're too baby, have a nap and maybe your feel better. Assuming the crisis on Naboo is still happening, and as such the vote of no confidence is right now, it might be a great time to report Sidious as a Sith lord. Post-escape from Sidious, both he and Maul definitely will need a nap. It's that kinda place.

Oh, it's probably at least a year before. Anakin keeps trying to sneak off to kill the man himself, but the Jedi are more ready for his Sneaking than Mustafar was, so he keeps getting caught before he can reach the Senate.

At one point he tries to just CHARGE the place and you get Mace and Obi-Wan sprinting after him. The News captures videos of this very small child getting chased by an older Padawan and a Master and they are mostly yelling for him to PUT DOWN THE SABER.

(Sidious might see him but what's he going to do? Might cause too many problems for Sidious to be aware of Anakin's presence with the Jedi, though. Best not.)

It's probably more expensive on average to hire an assassin on a child, just in general But on a jedi youngling??? If he can even find someone to do that, it will be so very, ridiculously expensive And likely 70%+ upfront payments

Ahsoka definitely seeks him out. Toddler baby child. She adores him for reasons unclear to anyone and everyone.

!!! Baby has baby!! Vader's probably a little thrown by this. Been a while subjectively since someone just loved him. And not even for like, a reason. Baby Vader coerced into sitting obediently for nap by tired kiddo: [The council liked that]

The number of times that vader could only be convinced to nap by Obi-Wan grabbing him, caging him in his own lap, and forced to Sit Quietly until he just fell asleep like that...

He has things to do, he's not tired 😡😡😡💢 (He's 9. Distances are between 150 and 195% longer when measured with steps, he's hungry (subjectively) all the time, and has only middling coordination He so is too tired)

Anakin doesn't know Qui-Gon at all but he keeps getting stuffed into the man's top because he's just. Small enough to fit.

Like the bomb boobs gif, but it's a small child.

the indignity

You just. You can't let him get too self-important.

Vader is Disgusted every time the pediatric healers try to talk down to him like they do to other 6yos.

The difference between this and other "Vader goes back in time to the Jedi" AUs (like Force of Many Sights) is that this Vader has never been a Jedi, and doesn't know anything about them except how they fight when he's trying to kill their friends.

Also Maul's there.

Because even he has a hard time taking himself seriously when hes so easy to manhandle Rest of the time; I am fear, I am death personified As luggage child: I am so small. The tiniest. I crave violence He's probably very annoyed they keep taking away his saber And hey! Obi gets practice not losing his! Woooo!

Something something Anakin clinging to Maul's back (piggy back ride) and chewing on his head or something stupid like that. Perfect height for head biting.

You know, the classic anime head bite

Maul probably has been nominally talked into this because this 9yo is a powerful darksider But he is also the world's most annoying tiny kid Maul would've thought his phenotype would make him immune to this ridiculousness He was wrong At least the teeth are a bit less pointy than his other little brothers'? Appreciating the little things

tfw your unwanted little brother drags you to what you think is a cult but actually they're way less culty than your last two places so you just stick around to keep an eye on the little shit

Anyway. ObiMaul for this one.

They're peers They're tired They just want to sit down and not have to chase this weird little murder child They have a lot in common 😊

They are all just a little bit stupid, I love them.

Qui-Gon is a Cool Mom (throws condoms at them and books it).

Yeah, that's about as much involvement as would be appreciated They probably did a lot of sparring before the tension broke Which did not relieve said tension, generally made it worse (Competence, athleticism, sweat-) Vader is confused, but probably doesn't mind He's probably glad they're distracting each other from stopping assassinating a certain someone (Which- that is 9yo hubris. He would need help to do that)

I still can't decide where on 6yo-9yo he falls but somewhere in there

Babies means easier hiding in shirt, teenie Ahsoka, and longer for him to convince the Jedi council to do a Sith hunt before the Naboo situation

Also longer for Maul and Obi-Wan to faff about being all Tension

* Vaguely inspired by the backstory of Rulebreaker/Wildheart, which is great but significantly more of a romance fic than this.

[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).

[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.

[skatingbi]

Uhhh yeah I havent gotten around to posting the past few parts on AO3 bc I have 2 research papers due in the next few weeks so...Shiba's POV i guess lmao

Also Im practicing dialogue with Hinao! Shes more bubbly than the rest so itll be a challenge to match her vibe but i like challenges!

Shiba has known Chihiro since before he was even born. He remembers the kid's toddler years and Kunishige struggling to be a single dad through the terrible twos, Chihiro deciding he was all grown up when he was just barely ten and helping out around the house, him learning how to cook from his father and Shiba himself helping out with the nightmare of having "the talk" when he got older. He remembers Chihiro taking up swordsmanship until he was finally allowed to learn how to be a blacksmith just like his dad.

He also remembers that day three years ago. He remembers Chihiro, haven't even hitting his growth spurt yet and holding Kunishige in his arms in front of his home, slowly disintegrating into ashes. It was the last time he saw the kid cry and earlier that day it was the last smile he saw. Until now, that is.

Shiba is trying to wrap his head around the concept of Chihiro looking...happy. He thought the sight was impossible, at least until all the enchanted swords were taken back, for the longest time. But here, in the small kitchen with just him, Hakuri, and Chihiro, he sees a small smile form as the raven haired boy listens to Hakuri talk about some video he was watching earlier.

It's weird. Not in a bad way, though.

Chihiro finally found someone to fit into his life who's worth fighting for, Shiba muses to himself. It's a lot more subdued than he thought this situation might play out. Of course, Shiba thought about the day Chihiro would find someone who would just...fit into his life and stand by his side. Someone who would be able to fit just right with the chaos that followed the kid everywhere he went. He was basically the kid's foster parent after everything that happened. Not a very good one, but still a steady constant in his life nevertheless.

Chihiro doesn't say anything to Shiba about it and he's not expecting him to. It's not exactly his business. Except it is with Hakuri's storehouse being an essential part to protecting the enchanted blades, but that's besides the point. He's happy for the kid, happy for them both after everything they've gone through to get to this point. They deserve these few precious moments of peace and normalcy after everything that Chihiro and Hakuri were forced to do. What they had to achieve to stay alive and protect the world around them in the process. Theyre way too young to make these choices, he thinks. But so was he when he joined the Kamunabi, so he's trying not to be hypocritical.

Shiba smiles as he subtly watches them interact. It vaguely reminds him of when he and Azami were in the Kamunabi together. Only a little bit, with the personality differences and all, but he can see why his brain automatically jumps to that observation. Chihiro almost seems to tune out the world around him when Hakuri speaks. They're both in their own realm outside of Hinao's kitchen, only occupying the small space but their minds are outside it. Right then Shiba decides that they both deserve to experience this type of happiness. He knows what its like to meet someone that melds into your life effortlessly and he'll be damned if he doesnt help preserve this small piece of tranquility they have. He never got that, but he can sure as hell make sure that these kids have that.

So, when Hakuri gets up to go into the living room after Char yells his name, Shiba glances at Chihiro with a smirk. "Damn, kid. You have it bad."

Chihiro's eyes narrow at his remark, "I don't know what you're re talking about." Shiba chuckles at the embarrassed flush on the kid's face. Almost like the face he used to make when he was shorter and scrawny, now it's a little more mature and subtle.

"You look at him like he hung the stars, it's not exactly subtle to people who know you," He states bluntly, "y'know, like me. Hakuri is an exception because he's dense." Shiba leans back into his chair while a thoughtful look is places on Chihiro's face. It's so like the kid to process someone's words in such an emotionally intelligent way, almost as if he's actually thirty instead of eighteen. The thought is funny enough for Shiba to laugh to himself about it.

"I...I don't know if I'm allowed to feel like this." The younger frowns, looking down at the table. His hand free of bandages fidgets with the leather on Enten.

"Well, why not? It's normal."

"I know that. I'm just," Chihiro takes a deep breath before looking up at Shiba with a vulnerable look, "Scared."

That's extremely unlike the kid he's practically helped raise. Chihiro was always sure of what he wanted to do, where to go, what he's willing to sacrifice. Shiba is confident that Chihiro knows the risks of letting himself love Hakuri. He knows theres no need to repeat it if Chihiro is openly admitting that he's scared. Of all the things he could have been scared of-- his fight with Sojo, the auction, the Kamunabi arresting him, the enchanted blades tearing apart the earth, the Hishaku-- he was afraid of love.

It's such a characteristic thing for the boy to do that Shiba cant even be surprised. He takes a moment to think over what to say, turning the words in his head and sighing.

"When I fell in love, I was also scared shitless. We both worked in a dangerous field and we both were terrified of what could happen. But, we also realized that the outcome would still be the same even if we never confessed. If one of us went out of commission, it'll still hurt. Maybe worse," He pauses to make eye contact with Chihiro and makes his voice firm, he needs to get this point across now or he knows Chihiro is going to hurt himself, "Tell him. You deserve to be happy even with the path you chose."

He sees the conflicting thoughts behind the kid's eyes before he closes them to take a deep breath. Chihiro's hand clenches around Enten's hilt and relax a few times, the one still bandaged shaking slightly at his side. Shiba lets him ground himself, most likely anxious after what Shiba told him. After a couple of minutes, Chihiro opens his eyes.

"Okay. I don't know how but I will." Shiba smiles at the decision.

"Oh, don't worry. I got plenty of ideas."

Well, they aren't exactly ideas that would work in their situation, but it doesn't hurt to air them out. Maybe it'll even inspire the kid.

Hakuri regrets going out into the living room at this moment. He loves Char, he really does. Shes a sweet kid and they're almost as attached to the hip as her and Chihiro are but her tendency to scheme with Hinao is getting out of hand.

"So...Char lied. I'm holding you hostage until you spill the beans about you and whatever you got going on with Chihiro!" Hinao exclaims with a devious glint in her eyes.

Case in point.

Char looks up at Hakuri apologetically, but it's only halfway sincere. "Sorry, Haku! Chihiro is like basically my big brother so I wanna know too!" She replies with a toothy grin. Hakuri doesnt even have the heart to be mad at that statement so he gives Char a small smile and ruffles her hair a bit.

"Its okay, Char. You didnt do anything wrong." He still shoots a frown in Hinao's direction but it does little to intimidate her. Curse his chronic baby face.

"Okay, so spill! Obviously you don't have to if you don't want to but Chihiro is my bestie so by extension I get to know about his love life!" Hinao bounces in place on the couch, leaning forward while Hakuri awkwardly stands in the middle of the living room. He moves to fidget with the long lock of hair until he realizes it's cut. He forgot about that and the reminder makes him pick at his fingernails instead. He didn't even know that him and Chihiro's friendship counted as a part of their love life. The statement throws him out of his element immediately as he stands in the middle of the living room awkwardly.

"I don't really know what you want me to say? We've been acting like normal since you've let us crash here." Hakuri feels nervous. He shouldn't be, he's only talking about his friend. A friend who Hinao is convinced he has something going on with, but still a friend.

"Wait a minute..." Hinao nearly gasps, her eyes wide with disbelief and Hakuri grows more confused, "You really don't see it?" See it...?

"See what?" Hakuri asks. Char giggles as Hinao's hands start to gesture widely in every direction.

"Chihiro like likes you!" Char exclaims, a proud smile on her face and Hakuri's eyebrows scrunch at that while his heart almost freezes.

"Yeah, what Char said," Hinao says but quiets down after seeing the man's reaction. "Hey, if we're being annoying tell us to shut up and we will. To be honest, we don't care if you guys like each other, as long as you're happy. Even if you don't it doesn't matter. We want you both to be happy!" Char nods at that as well while crossing her arms. Hakuri gives a watery smile as the little kid puts on a brave face despite him knowing she may be feeling a little bad about this as well. Even with her limited knowledge, being a kid and all, her empathetic nature shines bright.

"Uh, it's alright. I just never really thought about it...?" Hakuri explains while internally fighting to figure out his own feelings on the topic. "I'm not good at feelings. You know how my brother was with me," The mention of Soya makes Hinao shudder at the memory, "So you guys bringing it up casually makes me confused. I don't know what it's like to...like, like someone?" As he speaks Hinao's look becomes one of understanding and empathy for her friend. She may not know what it's like to feel this way, but she also understands why he does. Hakuri's life reflects how he feels about a lot of topics they've talked about as friends. She may not have experienced what he has, but she's smart enough to put all the details together; Hakuri is out of his element when it comes to understanding that people can care about him, and will care about him.

Hinao shuffles over and pats a spot on the couch between Char and her, and Hakuri takes the seat with a grateful smile.

"Okay, we can work with that. Maybe we can talk about what romantic feelings are like?" Hinao suggests.

Hakuri nods, looking away and picking at the seam of the couch cushion. "I guess...What is it like?"

Hinao gets excited again, lightening the mood and enlightening Hakuri at the same time as she goes into a tangent. Hakuri jumps a bit once her animated gestures start up again.

"Romance is amazing! You get this feeling of butterflies in your stomach when you're around them, you always want to be with them, to comfort them and to let them comfort you! You go on dates, spend time together even if it's in total silence...oh, and affection! Even small gestures can make your day!"

Hakuri came to a slow realization and it showed plain as day. Hinao didn't ask, though, and talked more about the aspects of romance she loved best. Once she was done, she waited patiently for Hakuri to speak by watching Char play with the toy cars Shiba got her a while ago. Char wandered off after getting bored of their "intellectual conversations" but pronounced intellectual more like "enteleckchual" or some other gibberish.

The man sat there, thinking while staring off into space at the blank TV screen.

He doesnt know what his face shows Hinao but she gives him a soft smile of encouragement as he scrambles to organize his thoughts. She's long stopped her rambling to give him space to breathe and process, which he's grateful for.

He thinks about the mornings where they drift a little closer together in their sleep, to the seam between their futons. The way Chihiro sleeps with his back turned towards him when he always guards it in front of strangers or enemies. How he noticed the sharps placed back where they belonged earlier today like nothing happened and how Chihiro hands him a safety pin. Hakuri thinks about sharing the kitchen, the warm lighting making Chihiro's eyes a little darker and a lot more captivating. His eyes were always the part that drew him in, even when they were total strangers the day he took a punch for the swordsman on a whim.

Chihiro patched him up then, too. Calloused fingers gently brushing against his cheekbone and chin and lighting up a path to forever imprint himself onto pale skin. How warmth is an understatement with how the other's own skin is an inferno that Hakuri desperately clings to days after a simple touch. The way he just wants more of whatever Chihiro is willing to give. There's an unspoken communication they've mastered when it came to just them, and one of them can pierce the other's soul in such a raw display of trust. How they bear each other's burdens like it's their sole duty to.

Its scary. It's absolutely terrifying realizing how close he is to Chihiro and he never gave it a second thought until now. But he wouldn't trade it for anything else. Nothing could replace the mundane activities they share now. He would never give up cooking together, sharing a room, the late night talks motivated by insomnia and the demons that wait for them in their sleep.

Hakuri realized then that he'd sacrifice everything to keep whatever him and Chihiro have cultivated together.

"Oh." Is all he whispers after an eternity of silence. Hinao gives a look of understanding.

"So? How do you feel?" She asks, unobtrusive and gentle. Hakuri's heart speeds up in record time and his vision tunnels a bit. His anxiety skyrockets at the question, unable to verbally answer for a few moments while he slumps back against the couch fully.

"I love him."

And he wouldn't trade it for the world. Despite how terrified he is at saying it out loud, his smile is wobbly and Char senses it immediately y. She runs up to Hakuri to tackle him into a hug, which startles him enough for his senses to come back. He hugs her back, ruffling her hair as she giggles and invades his personal space.

"Yay! Chihiro makes Haku happy!"

Hakuri laughs at that softly, "Yeah. He really does."

Hinao also joins in on the hug, and it quickly turns into an emotional support cuddle session. Not for the first time, Hakuri basks in the feeling of having a family. The only thing missing is a stoic black haired man with pretty jewel toned eyes and a soft smile. While they hug, Hakuri is already thinking about what to do about his feelings.

He thinks he wants to confess.

Sighs...my taste in manga has evolved. Time for Kagurabachi

Also I cant sleep bc i have an interview in 11 hours so take this unedited contribution to the fandom

CW: Hakuri's childhood trauma and PTSD, descriptions of PTSD triggers and Anxiety

Hakuri cut his hair.

In hindsight (10 seconds ago) it was a stupid, impulsive decision made out of sheer anguish, anger, sadness, grief, and emotional instability. In all fairness, it was only the longer part of his hair, the part he wrapped with a ribbon to keep together and out of his face. He cut it too short, though. Now, it's choppy and anyone can see from a mile away that he cut them with paper scissors he found in a drawer near the kitchen.

He doesn't really remember how he got here, only that he looked in the mirror. He saw his siblings staring back at him, disappointed, disgusted, apathetic towards him and then he felt the bruises that have since been long gone from his skin. He felt the crooked fingernails, the bones improperly healed in his hands shaking from how tense he got so quickly.

He felt fear.

Now, his hair is choppy on one side. Tears well up even more and he realizes that he's been crying. Looking in the mirror again, it's just him, the scissors, his red face and puffy eyes staring back and his god awful haircut.

He hears the front door open and close and in a stupid attempt to hide himself he slams the bathroom door shut. Shortly after locking it, he hears Chihiro's voice amongst everyone else's usual chatter.

"Hakuri?" He calls out, and he feels his footsteps grow closer. Hakuri's hands tremble, dropping the scissors. He doesnt know what to do. He knows Chihiro wont get mad, maybe Char will laugh at his hair for a bit. Unfortunately, his rational mind hasnt caught up yet. Its far behind in the race to claw out the hair from the sink and throw it in the small trash bin in the corner. Theres a knock at the bathroom door and Hakuri jumps at the sudden noise.

"Hakuri? You okay?" Chihiro asks, voice laced with concern through the door. It takes a moment for Hakuri to try and compose himself, clearing his throat enough to reply, "Yeah-Yeah I'm fine!"

Chihiro clearly doesnt buy it, "You dont sound okay," The door knob rattles softly, "Can you open the door?"

Hakuri shakes his head before he realizes he needs to speak, backing away from the door, but then deciding against it with how rough his vocal cords feel, "I...I messed up, Chihiro," He admits, another sob escaping him before he can stop it.

"I'm not hurt! Promise! I just-just messed up and it looks bad and I dont want you to judge me."

Silence stretches for only a few seconds, and Hakuri swears he hears Chihiro's breathing through the door.

"Hakuri, I swear to you I will not judge," Chihiro's voice is low and reassuring, more than Hakuri believes he's deserving of right now, "Let me in?"

He doesnt know how Chihiro can just give promises like that to him when theyre so rare. Its a moment of raw vulnerability that he's displaying, all for the sake of making sure Hakuri is okay. The ugly part of him tells him he doesnt deserve it, that he's better off staying locked in the bathroom and telling Chihiro to leave. That rational part of him knows it wont work, that its not true because the man on the other side of that door believes he deserves more.

He unlocks the door, but cant bring himself to open it, so Chihiro meets him halfway and slowly opens the door to enter the bathroom, closing it behind him before looking up.

Theres a longer stretch of silence, Chihiro's expression doesnt show any hint of what Hakuri is looking for. He's indifferent, but thats his normal look. He watches with ingrained perceptiveness as the other's eyes dart around cautiously before landing on the evidence of his unfortunate haircut and mental breakdown.

"Ah, you cut your hair." Thats all chihiro says before bending down to pick up the scissors, placing them on the sink's counter carefully. Hakuri can only stare at the floor and nod. He can feel tears threatening to form again and now he feels like crying for two reasons instead of one. His head hurts.

Theres a hand on his shoulder, thumb just barely touching his neck and Hakuri has to fight back the instinct to run. Chihiro notices, but his hand stays right where it is as a soothing presence amist the last dregs of his breakdown plaguing his brain.

"Its not that bad, you just need to even it out," Chihiro states, "I can cut it for you, if you want." The offer stands as an out for Hakuri. Chihiro does those a lot, where he'll offer to do something for him but give him the verbal reassurance that he can leave or say no whenever he wants to. He considers it for a moment, before squashing down his shame and giving a shallow nod.

"Stay here, I'll get proper scissors." Then Chihiro disappears from the room.

Hakuri sits on the toilet lid in the meantime, exhaustion slowly creeping in as he starts to remember bits and pieces of the episode. He remembers Shiba telling him about how some people have them when they're healing from trauma of some kind. Lately, he's had more than usual, mostly at night in his nightmares or when he's so anxious he cant sleep and has to pace around the tiny room to tire himself out.

He remembers Shiba telling him about what exactly he's going through, too.

"Its called PTSD. A lot of people have it, especially because of the war. Make no mistake, though, kid. Anyone can have it, and its a bitch to deal with, but eventually you learn how to live in spite of it."

That conversation was mentally taxing, he thinks. He wonders if this is a part of that, too. Could he have stopped it? Been normal? Or maybe he could have fought back, even if it ended in something miraculously worse than mental scars.

He doesn't hear Chihiro enter the room again, but he does make his presence obvious by standing in front of him, startling Hakuri from his thoughts.

"If you change your mind, even halfway through, just tell me," Chihiro whispers as he kneels down before Hakuri.

"Okay, I promise," He whispers back, voice shaky once he feels calloused hands brushing through his hair. Chihiro gives him a small smile, one of those rare ones that never see the light of day. For one quick moment Hakuri thinks about how he wants to see Chihiro smile more.

The hair cutting is simple, and Hakuri has to close his eyes unless he'd rather blink away the small bits of hair that fall onto his face. He sputters a bit when some get in his mouth and it makes Chihiro huff whats his own version of a laugh, just a small puff of air what would be seen as mild sarcasm to most people. It feels like hours of Chihiro's hands carding through his hair, his hands gently brushing the hair away from his eyes, the sound of scissors snipping through the choppy bits of Hakuri's remnants of what he remembers seeing in the mirror.

He opens his eyes when Chihiro puts down the scissors, and is met with the man's own eyes staring. He doesn't want to look away yet. When he's letting his guard down, even for a fraction of a second, there's a softness to him that's impossible to ignore. Hakuri wants to take it in, maybe even ingrain it into his mind like a polaroid for him to keep forever. He doesn't want to look in the mirror yet and Chihiro wont ask him to.

"Thank you," He murmurs, still looking at Chihiro and the deep red eyes that crinkle minutely. He notices then that maybe Chihiro has been smiling more than he thought.

"Are you feeling alright enough to leave the bathroom?" Chihiro asks, standing and offering a hand that Hakuri takes so he stands with him.

"Yeah. I think so," He yawns, "Tired though."

"Thats okay, I'll let the others know not to disturb you." Hakuri nods in acknowledgement. Chihiro guides Hakuri to leave the bathroom with him and doesnt leave his side until Hakuri is lying on his futon in their tiny shared room that they're borrowing from Hinao.

Once comfortable with the sheets up to his chin and facing Chihiro, who stands in the doorway still, he smiles. It's a small one, tired and grateful for the other's presence and help through an ugly moment.

"Hakuri?" Chihiro's voice betrays his's stoic expression.

"Yeah?" His own voice wavers, too.

"If you ever have an episode again and need help, call for me or Shiba." Chihiro says, setting his voice so there's no room for negotiation. He's serious, and that rattles Hakuri a little.

"Okay, I will," He answers back, hoping to gain the bravery to ask for help for something like this. Chihiro nods and shuts the door behind him shortly after leaving.

[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

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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.”  

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2.7k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

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Playing volleyball in Milan is everything Atsumu dreamed of and more - the lights are brighter, the crowds are bigger, there are no distractions, no nagging to ignore, no pending errands to run - nothing to detract from the rush of exhilaration when he executes yet another perfect set. His teammates introduce him to the joy of soaking in the sunset over aperitivo by the Navigli canals, and he develops a liking for cheese and cured meat -  prosciutto, salami, bresola, sending pictures of the street markets to Osamu even though he receives no reply.  

But it’s not long before the novelty of living alone in a foreign land fades. He’s never been particularly good with languages, so he’s unable to get across the language barrier preventing him from socialising outside of his teammates. So Atsumu finds himself falling back into habits he learnt at home - buying take-out pizza on Friday nights from the pizzeria down the street, ordering extra because the pizza in Milan is thinner, crisper and infinitely less filling. There are no aquariums in Milan, no museums with dinosaur bones, so he measures his steps on cobblestone streets to the park every Sunday to sit on a bench too large for him alone, watching the birds and clouds in the sky. 

He tells himself to be content with watching his baby grow through the frame of an eleven inch screen, recording every one of her babbled words and chuckles onto his phone until it runs out of space and has to call Suna for technical support. He becomes a regular at the post office, mailing packages of dolls and nutcrackers, chocolates from his favourite sweetshop and handmade baby dresses from wizened oba-chan he learns to air kiss on both cheeks. 

‘Home, Oto-san?’ Shino asks during one of their calls. His voice breaks when he has to tell his baby ‘sorry, darlin’, not yet’. It’s the only time he opens up the webpage to check if he can book a flight back home. 

He starts rushing to the locker room right after matches end to avoid seeing his teammates’ faces light up when their families congratulate them with kisses and warm embraces after every match. When his teammates ask about his family (he drives away the thought that they’re asking out of pity), he whips out his phone to show them his favourite picture of Shino, her little face screwed up in confusion when they loaded her back with the giant mochi for her first birthday- ‘such a trooper, didn’t even cry when she fell down’ he tells them proudly. He’s quick to swipe past any photos of her. 

He doesn't need the memories, he really doesn’t.

Well - he might not  need  the memories, but it’s not as if they disappear. He wakes up to find himself on the other side of bed. ‘Sorry, darlin’ he mumbles sleepily (because he knows he tends to invade her space, and she’s likely to kick him bodily off the bed if he doesn’t apologise quickly enough) - before snapping awake with a thin sheen of cold sweat on his forehead remembering he’s five thousand, nine hundred and sixty miles from home. 

Not that he’s counting. He really isn’t.

He’s ashamed to admit that he heads to the club that night to pick up someone - anyone to warm his bed, but he’s not sure if it’s the burn of alcohol or the flashing lights (or that prick of something in his chest - it can’t be his conscience, he’s pretty sure only Osamu has that) because his stomach churns whenever pigs with their painted faces and false smiles approach him, and soon gives up, returning to his apartment cold and alone. He’s pretty sure it’s the alcohol because he pukes his guts out in the morning and swears off from ever going to a club again.

“MIYA !’ 

He only has time for a brief flash of shock between hearing his coach shout his name and feeling the impact of his teammate’s full weight against his shoulder that sends him sprawling across the floor. There’s a collective gasp from the crowd, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the sickening snap of bone ringing in his ears as he’s lying on the ground. 

The sharp burst of pain stabbing his shoulder is enough for him to know what the doctors later confirm - a shattered collarbone. Complete rest for at least eight weeks is prescribed for a full recovery. 

‘What were you thinking, Miya?’ his coach asks him exasperatedly when he’s discharged from the hospital. 

‘I goofed’, he replies lamely. ‘Sorry, sir’. 

It wouldn’t do to tell anyone that for a split second, he was distracted by the sight of a dark haired woman with bright eyes cheering at the top of the stands, a plump toddler balanced on her hip. 

It’s close enough to the end of the competition season that his coach figures it’d be better for him to just cut his stay in Milan short and return to Japan early to recover properly. So he lands in the Osaka airport amidst a haze of rain, arm tucked in a sling. The airport staff are kind enough to help him wheel his bags out to the arrivals gate where he’s surprised to find Osamu waiting with a bored expression on his face. 

‘I thought ya weren’t talkin’ to me’, Atsumu says.  

Osamu snorts, taking hold of his bags. ‘Mum made me come and get ya, since you're useless with that busted collarbone of yours.’ Then he turns on his heel and matter of factly adds as he walks off - ‘Besides, you’ll end up stayin’ with me anyway - it’s not like you have a home of yer own.’ 

Atsumu opens his mouth to retort but shuts it with a snap. 

‘You better hide in the kitchen if ya don’t have the guts to show yer ugly mug around her’, Osamu tells him at half past six in the evening, not even looking up from the tuna and spring onion onigiri he’s forming in his hands. 

But Atsumu doesn’t. He tells himself it’s because he can’t bring himself to leave Shino’s side for a second more than he has to, not when he’s still drinking in the sight of her grown so, so big in the span of just a few months. The little girl had been confused at first, when both he and Osamu turned up at the childcare centre to pick her up, but after several minutes of coaxing her to recognise which one of them was Oto-san and Oji-san (the hair colour probably helped) and the bribe of a very elaborate doll (probably the main reason), she’d warmed up to him and refused to let go of his hand. 

She pushes open the door to Onigiri Miya with a gentle smile on her face when Shino shrieks ‘Mama!’ at the top of her little lungs and rushes over to her, though it vanishes the instant she notices that it’s not Osamu playing with the little girl. He tries his best to ignore the stab of guilt in his chest when she takes an instinctive step back to yank Shino behind her legs. 

‘You’re back’, she finally says, glancing at his arm resting in its sling.   

‘Yeah…’ he responds, starting to sweat like he’s standing under the hottest stadium lights. ‘Ya look good’.

‘I know when you’re lying, Atsumu’, she sighs - and if he's being honest, she’s right. To the untrained eye, she looks perfectly put together, dressed in a pencil skirt and heels with her hair neatly tied back, but he knows her too well to be fooled. He can spot the pallor of her skin beneath her makeup, the droop of her shoulders, the downward tilt of her lips. But before he can formulate a response, she grabs Shino’s hand and turns to go, the little girl waving goodbye at him until they’re out of sight. 

‘Wow. That was awkward.’ Osamu quips from over the counter. Atsumu can’t even find it in him to respond.    

Osamu makes him work at his store in between his sessions of physiotherapy. ‘To keep ya out of trouble’ he says, and Atsumu doesn’t really mind, it still leaves him plenty of time to pick up Shino from childcare every day, and it certainly gives him the excuse to hang around Onigiri Miya when she stops by in the evenings. 

He tries to make conversation with her - ‘That’s a new dress you’re wearing’, but is always rebuffed - ‘I bought this old thing years ago’, to Osamu’s endless amusement. She’d always enter the store with a fond smile on her face for Osamu (it makes him want to puke), and would immediately drop it the moment she meets his eyes. 

He tells himself it’s normal, she used to be cold and standoffish to him before they started dating, that she’d come around after a while. But even when he tries a different tack (perhaps compliments don’t work on her like they used to before), asking her ‘how’s yer day’, she shoots him a look of distrust that cuts right through his smile - ‘Just tell me what you want, Atsumu. You’ve never bothered asking me that before’. 

Osamu actually roars with laughter at that. Traitor. 

‘Need help with that?’ Osamu comments after watching Atsumu struggle to reach the exercise tape on his back with his one good hand, stepping in after Atsumu gives a reluctant nod. But he immediately yelps in pain when Osamu decides to abandon all pretense of being gentle and yanks on the exercise tape viciously.

‘Just take off my skin while you're at it, why don't ya’ Atsumu whines. ‘It never used to hurt that much when  she  would help me after physiotherapy’. 

‘She’s always been nicer to ya than ya deserve, fuckin’ scrub’. Osamu retorts, pulling at the remaining tape with increased vigour. 

Atsumu bites his tongue through the pain, picking apart his brother’s words before replying - ‘Hey ‘Samu. She’s still really mad with me, isn’t she? D'you think she’ll ever forgive me?’ 

‘Have ya tried apologising to her, for starters?’ 

‘What?’ Atsumu asks, bewildered, before yelping - 'Wait - ouch!! What the hell that bloody hurt!?!?!' 

‘You know - saying sorry? Owning up to your mistakes? Asking for forgiveness? You abandoned your wife and child for months - but I suppose that concept must be alien to you, shit stain.’ 

Osamu doesn’t give him a chance to respond, shaking his head as he walks away. 

His pride is an ugly, misshapen lump in his throat that's so inflamed it's almost impossible to be swallowed, but he does so anyway, asking her if they can speak for a short while in the alley behind the shop, away from Osamu’s eavesdropping ears. She furrows her brows at his request, but follows him out without complaint. 

It’s only when she’s standing before him in the dimly lit alleyway, the dying light of the setting sun reflecting a halo above her head that it hits him like a blow to the back of his head that he’s a fuckin’ idiot - how did he manage to convince himself to blame her for trying to get in his way of chasing his dreams. This is what he missed when he was living alone in his cold studio apartment in Milan - being able to return after trainings and matches to a cosy flat overflowing with her cheeky banter and his baby’s laughter. 

Gods, he wants his family. He wants to come home. 

But before he can pour out the apology he’d been preparing with Osamu’s help, she interrupts him by slapping a brown envelope into his chest. 

‘Look, I’m not sure what you have to say to me, but frankly, I’m not sure we have much to say to each other anymore,’ she tells him impatiently, as he opens the envelope, a tidal surge of dread overwhelming him. 

‘What's this’, he says blankly, even though the title on the very first page of the stack of papers trembling in his hands sets it out clearly -  Rikon-Todoke. i.e. Divorce papers. 

It spells out in clinical, cold words the terms of the proposed separation - dissolution of marriage by mutual consent, no request for alimony or compensation, legal custody to be granted to her with ample visitation rights for him. He would think it fair, if it were to apply to anyone but him.  

‘But why?’ he rasps, chest burning from the knife that pierces him right through his heart. 

She shifts forward, and the neon lights from the buildings surrounding them melding together to throw her face into sharp focus, her mouth curving upwards into something much harsher than a smile. It’s as if his departure acted as a whetstone, sharpening her edges, shaping her into a woman with hard eyes he can’t recognise. 

‘You and both know it’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it Atsumu? You’ve made it quite clear that this marriage isn’t what you want out of life. In any case neither of us have really been happy even before you left, so we might as well be free from each other.’ 

At this, he shakes his head, parting his lips to object but she continues ruthlessly, her words slicing past his tissue thin excuses. 

‘If anything, my time with you has taught me that it's impossible to stop the storm from destroying everything in its path. You can only try your best to outrun it, and  this' - ’ she stabs a finger at the stack of papers shaking in his hands -  ‘this is my attempt at outrunning you.’

It feels as if his world has somehow shifted, tilted upside down, turned inside out, his assumption that her taking him back would be an inevitable conclusion now disproven by the papers burning in his hands. He knows he’s hurt her beyond measure, but he never thought that his choice to chase what he thought were his dreams would leave him without the ground beneath his feet. 

‘You don’t need to do anything else - just sign it and give it back to me soon. I think it’s better for all of us - you, me and Shino, if we divorce formally and lead our own separate lives’, he hears her say, turning to go. 

Acting on instinct, his hand shoots out to grab her wrist and she flinches, the steel in her eyes crumbling to leave only frozen terror behind. 

I could never hurt you, he wants to say, but doesn't - because he knows it's a lie. 

Numbly, he releases his grip, letting his hand drop to his side. 

He hears the door close behind him. 

Osamu finds him hours later, crouched on the back steps to the shop, papers clenched in his hands. He takes the papers from him and mouths to himself while scanning through it, but there is no spark of surprise in his eyes. 

‘Did ya know she planned on divorcing me, ‘Samu?’, Atsumu asks, swiping his eyes with the back of his hand. 

‘I had a pretty good guess it was coming’, Osamu replies heavily. 

‘Fuck’, Atsumu groans, dropping his head between his legs. 

Osamu prods his side with the tip of his shoe. ‘It’s not that I want to kick a guy when he’s down, but she's your wife, not a toy you can toss aside and come back to after a few months, shit for brains. And if I’m being honest, it looks like you’re acting like a brat who only wants his toy back when someone else picks it up’.

Osamu’s response lights a fire in his chest, and he whirls to his feet, grabbing his twin by the front of his apron growling - ‘Whose side are ya on anyway?!’ 

Osamu looks at him calmly, uncharacteristically refusing to take his bait. ‘Well, it's not as if ya don't deserve it. You walked out on her and Shino for almost a year, Atsumu. I’ve been the one cleaning up yer mess like I’ve been doing my whole life - I’ve been the one picking Shino up from childcare, I had to accompany yer wife to the hospital when yer kid was down with a high fever - d'you still have to ask whose side I’m on?’

‘D'you love her, ‘Samu?’ Atsumu asks after a pause. 

The twins stare at each other. 

‘I love her like a sister, you asshole. And I hate that it’s my own brother causing her pain.’ Osamu eventually says, pushing him away.  

The door slams behind him again.  

The dark clouds above him rumble ominously. It starts to pour. 

[hadesisqueer]

How do you feel about Yang and how she’s summarized in Vol. 8 as suspicious and emotional?

Late, but better late than ever. I've been waiting for this one. It's probably the longest because as I said, I make either two lines or just an entire character analysis lol. And I'm going to do it properly this time.

Okay, I straight (gay) up don't know where to start. I love Yang. I truly love Yang. She's not perfect, she has many flaws, but that's what I like the most about her. I can't help but laugh when some people say she's a Mary Sue.

Childhood, first volumes.

Yang starts the series as the funny blonde hot girl that goes around punching people. And I liked that, but I also like how she wasn't just that, as I said with Nora being the comic relief. Like, there's so much more in Yang than that, just like Weiss turned up to be much more than just the bratty tsundere.

Yang's mother abandoned her. Her other mother disappeared. Her sister was a toddler that didn't really get what was going on except her mother being gone, and her father was so depressed that for a good while, he wasn't even able to raise her daughters. Can you imagine being in that situation? I imagine she was, at most, six when that happened. She was forced to become Ruby's mother figure at six. She was forced to become the fucking adult in the house at six.

Damn, you can even see the difference between how Qrow talks to Ruby and how he talks to Yang, at least at the begining. He talks to Ruby as her uncle, as her mentor. He may tease Yang a little because she's still his niece, but when he talks to her, he always talks like she's an equal. Like, Tai still considered Yang a kid, but Qrow treats her like an adult, and knows and expects her to be the mature one. Because he saw her all those years, being forced grow up so fast. He trusts her to protect and take care of Ruby, and she trust him to protect her as well.

And damn, all of this really explains her behaviour when the series began. As Ruby got older and started to be able to take care of herself, and Tai eventually started to be functional again, Yang had more freedom. Her personality and eagerness for adventure and parties and all of that - is just her trying to make up for her sacrificed childhood. But even then she still was, out of all the girls, the most mature and nurturing of team RWBY. She is the party girl, yes. The hot headed one that will break legs. But she's still the adult of the group.

And then volume 3 happens. She gets framed in front of the entire world, two of her friends die, Beacon falls, she loses her arm in the most traumatic way possible; Weiss, her friend, is basically taken away from her and Blake -her partner, the girl she probably already had feelings for at that point- left, triggering her abandonment issues. And of course, PTSD, because she isn't fucked up enough already. She's so fucking destroyed that she can't even talk about Weiss, about Blake, about what happened. She doesn't even want talk to Ruby, because she can't stand the thought of her little sister seeing her at that state. She is not used to be the one people have to take care of, and it becomes more and more obvious in the next volumes.

Disability, recovery, abandonment issues

I like how volume 4 treats her recovery. I mean, I wish her storyline was longer, but I also like the DC comics. Now, the thing is, she isn't really recovered. In vol 4, she learns to live with her disability, she learns how to use her new arm, she learns how to fight better than she ever did before. It's about physical recovery. But is she okay? No. She hates being taken care of. She forced herself to be okay, or at least pretend she was, so Tai would let her go with Ruby. And in vol 5, she's anything but alright. She is pretending to be for Ruby's sake, because she is her mother figure and Ruby can't see her like that. She has to face her abandonment issues, she still has PTSD, and she is just not okay. Weiss notices right away, and tells her that it's okay if she is not okay. She noticed how hurt she was about Blake leaving. She just could see through the façade because if Weiss knows about anything, is about loneliness and pretending.

Her conversation with Raven at the end of the volume is just one of the best scenes, because you can just see how much Yang has grown. That scene deserves a post of its own because it's just amazing. But she finally faces one of her fears -her own abandonment issues, though they probably will always be there- and sees right through Raven. Because just like her, Raven just puts a façade to hide her own fears and insecurities, and the moment her own daughter isn't just taking any of that shit, she just starts crying. Because Yang is right. And deep down, she doesn't want to let Yang take the lamp, but she isn't just strong enough. Deep down, she wants to be in Yang's life, wants to protect her, and I think Yang knew that. But it was just too late.

More abandonment issues and relationship with Blake.

Now, to Yang, Blake coming back was huge. Not only in the terms of shipping, but as a whole. In her mind, Blake left her, just like Raven, just like Summer (though Summer didn't do it in purpose), and technically, just like Ruby, though she knew why Ruby did it and understood. But she's probably wondering “what is wrong with me that everyone always leaves me”. And she always has to be the one looking for the person who left her.

Not with Blake. After that talk with Weiss (bless the wingwoman), Yang was able to understand Blake's perspective better. But she didn't think Blake would actually ever come back, because no one ever does. But she did. Not only did she come back; literally, all Blake cared about once she entered the room and saw Yang was her (for once, someone is prioritizing her). And later, she was the one to walk and talk to the team, and tell them she didn't plan to leave again if they accepted her back. She didn't have to look for Blake because she was already looking for Yang. She was the one who made the effort, not the other way around. And to Yang, even though they still had issues to work through, even though she was still afraid at that moment that Blake would leave and break her heart again (All That Matters), that was enough to forgive her. Or at least give her another chance.

Now in volume 6 they clearly have issues. Like, Blake is very nurturing to the entire team because she feels like she has to make up. But mostly, she is trying to make up to Yang. She still feels guilty because of Adam, and she knew that Yang had already abandonment issues before she left and she probably made them worse. She was just trying so hard to be there for Yang so she could understand that she would never leave her again that she made things awkward. Yang is used to be the one who takes care of people, not the other way around. She thought that Blake “protecting her” was her seeing her a weak when actually, it was just Blake just genuinely caring about her but with the wrong words. Blake understood after that, and she changed the phrasing in the fight against Adam. Protecting each other. Equals. It really applies to the Bees relationship as a whole. “You're taking care of me, yeah, but I'm going to take care of you as well, no matter what”. For once, Yang is allowing someone to take care of her (well, except Tai, but again, she wasn't completely sincere with him, so technically she wasn't really allowing him to fully help her). And that's what I love the most about their dynamic, and why I ship it.

PTSD

Now (I'm sorry I'm taking so long), I've seen many, many people saying that Yang's PTSD is poorly written, or that the writers messed it up in the fight against Adam. Now, I have to ask those people: what the fuck do you think PTSD is?

If a Great WriterTM reads this and tries to tell me I'm wrong, or that I don't know what I'm talking about and I don't know anything about good writing and blah blah blah: I have PTSD myself. Diagnosed. So yes, I acknowledge there are many things I'm ignorant about, but I'm quite familiar about this topic. Yang's PTSD is, at least by my point of view, very well-written. It isn't perfect, but it's still far so much better than most PTSD portrayals I've seen in TV, along with Korra's. And I've seen people saying that Korra's portrayal was so much better. Well, let me tell you, it isn't, or at least I don't think it is. It's just different, because the worst thing about PTSD (and what makes it harder to treat) is that it's different for every person; sometimes it can be really severe and obvious, sometimes it seems “light”. Damn, sometimes it doesn't appear until years after the event; mine didn't trigger til I was like sixteen, and the event took place when I was around five or six. And yes, sometimes I have nightmares or flashbacks about it if something triggers me, but it isn't the whole time like some of you apparently think it is. I'm not scared 100% of the time, what the fuck.

When it comes to the fight with Adam, saying it didn't affect her: did you watch the fight? First of all, at that precise moment, Yang was so full of adredaline and too busy keeping Adam from killing Blake that I don't think her brain even realised he was the cause of her PTSD. Second of all, when he triggers it, it does affect her; she starts shaking, he's able to land hits on her that he couldn't before. But PTSD is different in every person, and is a defense mechanism, not a freezing mechanism as some people think. If I see the cause of my PTSD in front of me trying to hurt me again, I'm not gonna freeze; I'm gonna do whatever it takes so they don't ever hurt me again. Same goes with Yang: some people think she should have completely freezed during the fight, like “oh my god this guy fucked me up really bad and now he's gonna do it again and there's nothing I can do oh my god”. No. As I said, PTSD doesn't work like that, at least not always. She's not thinking that, she's thinking “alright this guy really fucked me up once but there's no way I'm letting him do that again”. Again, PTSD is a defense mechanism. A fucked up one, but it's what it is. And the writers handled very well.

Yang being suspicious and not completely trusting someone.

Now, I'm not lying when I tell you that I have no idea about what this could mean. Well, it could be her disagreeing with Ruby and having a bad argument, and that would really break my heart because I just love those two sisters so much. It could also be about Ozpin; she's teaming up with Oscar and hearing Ozpin is back could bring some problems. Or maybe Raven just appears there and she's like Hell Naw. I have no idea.

Conclussion.

I love Yang. She's not perfect at all. She's a bit of a hypocrite with the whole Ozpin thing because she's keeping Raven's identity as the Spring Maiden a secret as well (or maybe she did tell them off-screen? Honestly clear that up already). But she's over all a really good friend and person, an amazing older sister and just one of the most inspiring characters in the show. I see part of myself in her, and I don't see that often in a character. I just love her.

Damn, sorry I wrote the Bible but my girl deserved that.