#which as a kid i read with zero problem

[dollsofthewest]

one big difference i’ve noticed with my relationship to historical children’s fiction is that, as a kid, i was drawn to the stories that hinted at more. “more” being child soldiers and child factory workers and kids who had to stand up for equality. because back then those things sounded like action! adventure!

and now that i’m an adult, all i want for the kids in those same stories is for them to have a peaceful childhood. i don’t want them to have to rescue their father from the british or travel on the underground railroad or survive the titanic or fight in the civil war. i just want them to be safe! i dream of the impossible: a childhood without trauma. and now every time i want to write my own stories of historical fiction, i always run into the same problem — how do i create a story where the child protagonist, realistically, would have had to suffer from the hardships of war or racism or child labor? how do i honor historical accuracy, while still creating characters who experience joy and happiness in their lives? i’m honestly stumped.

[necrotic-nephilim]

If you want to be bothered. Maybe this for dick and Bruce???

i ALWAYS want to be bothered these are always the highlight of my day tbh you're a delight for letting me just yap <3

Dick. For the canon isn't real square I am Specifically talking about the Tom Taylor Nightwing run. Usually I ignore bad runs but given this one is ongoing (though about to end THANK GOD and get replaced by Dan Watters who i have high hopes for since i adored his Sword of Azrael (2022) run but i digress) so I counted it. Especially since it's so debated if that run is bad or not, for some reason. I'm a 90s Nightwing truther. I love Dick so dearly and tbh recently I've been more enamored with him the more I read his Discowing era, I didn't used to be as big of a Dick stan as I am these days.

Bruce. Honestly where do you even start with Bruce. I want to fist fight him and also patch him up. He got me into comics and superheroes as a whole but I roll my eyes whenever he shows up in a story. He's a bastard and usually not a good father but also complex and should be dissected under a magnifying glass. I love him dearly. He's also just the worst. I think that's why I love him. I'm always a fan of unabashedly Complicated Asshole Bruce who's generally not always the best person, particularly not to the Batfamily and that being the driving force of his relationships with them, especially in shipping.

And for bonus points, Tim. Because know above all else, I'm a Tim Drake kinnie /deg. He's been my number one for a decade and I've yet to uproot him from my brain. He's literally the Worst half the time and I love him for it. And the canon isn't real refers to Tim Drake: Robin because... that sure was a comic. And that's about all I can say about it. Pre-Flashpoint Tim I miss you so dearly. I think it's fun that I want to put him in a blender and drink the juice but also want Nothing Ever to happen to him.

[kokofromwattpad]

CUDDLES

Featuring: Dorm leaders

Plot: The way how different twst characters sleep with and without you and their sleeping habits.

Cw: fluff, spooning(Riddle and Vil), snoring (Leona and Azul), mentions of boobs (Kalim), drool (idia)

Note: You can obviously tell who my favorite is. Word count: 913

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS:

Before you:

He sleeps like a old man. Like, fingers crossed over his stomach, or he sleeps like a corpse. He is very silent when he is sleeping only letting out very soft breaths.

With you:

Riddle is either sleeping fetal position into your arms or being spooned. I feel like after having an extremely long day, all he wants to do is be held.

Without you:

He has zero clue what to do with his hands. So all he does is take one of his pillows and cuddles with that. Sometimes he gets mad just as he is about to fall asleep and just chucks the pillow across the room.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

Before you:

He snores like a dad. Like, you know you sometimes when your dad is busy snoring and then he chokes on his own saliva mid snore... yea... thats Leona. Also he sleeps like a hot mess. Half of his body is off the bed and the other is barely hanging on.

With you:

Living blanket. Like, he just lays his entire body weight on top of you like a blanket. At first it felt like attempted murder, but after a while you got used to it and now you can't fall asleep without weight on top of you.

Without you:

He twists his blankets into a long noodle so that it (kinda) feels like he's cuddling you. Also, his tail is swishing the same way an angry cat does the entire time he is sleeping.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO:

Before you:

Completely normal. Maybe a hand under the pillow(?) Snores. The tweels used to make fun of him for that when they were kids but got used to it eventually.

With you:

Koala mode: activated. His legs are twisted through your legs and arms attached to your torso like superglue. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck and sometimes even leaves little kisses there.

Without you:

He refuses to sleep without you. Period. He got so used to sleep with you in his arms that it has become a condition for him to sleep. He will either stay in his office, busy with paperwork, studying for an upcoming test or reading a book you recommended him in his bed.

KALIM AL-ASIM:

Before you:

I headcannon that he sleeps fetal position. But like, on his stomach. His face is smashed into the pillow, which causes bedhead and he becomes scarily still (Jamil sometimes comes in and checks if he's still alive.)

With you:

He does not give a shit if you have tiddies or not, he is shoving his face into your chest like it's no-one's business. You have never slept so damn good until the day you started sleeping with Kalim in his fucking king sized bed made from swan feathers or something close to it.

Without you:

Tosses and turns, ruining the sheets and making it dirty. He usually gets up and starts pacing the room, trying to tire himself out, but failing miserably. Kind of just lays there.

VIL SCHOENHEIT:

Before you:

Looks like a fucking angel. His hair perfectly frames his head and he just looks so damn peaceful. I bet he listens to nature sounds whenever he can't sleep since him losing sleep is a big no-no.

With you:

He likes to spoon. He only big spoons, if not, then he's pushing you (affectionately♡) off the bed. He has gotten accustomed to your light snoring, kind of using it like a non-verbal lullaby.

Without you:

Can sleep, but not as nicely as when you do. Kind of turns a bit, but he does fall asleep normally. Gets a sad gut feeling whenever he wakes up without you next to him.

IDIA SHROUD:

Before you:

Probably never sleep willingly. He probably would just pass out from exhaustion ever once-in-awhile. But when he does sleep, he drools like a fucking dog. Like, entire pillow case damp from his drool. He has gained mild control over this, but is still considered a problem.

With you:

He wants to cuddle like how anime couples do. He specifically likes it when you sleep on his chest, your weight feeling the same as when a cat lays on him. He also gained a condition in order to fall asleep. He must stroke your hair gently while you mutter in your half-asleep state on how much you love and adore him.

Without you:

After he started dating you, he finally decided to get a better sleep schedule so he could spend more time with you, rather than being passed out, looking half dead. So he got a plain body pillow (He didn't get a cover as he thought it would be a betrayal of your trust) He cuddles the body pillow the same way he does to you.

MALLEUS DRACONIA:

Before you:

He slept the same way as Riddle, like a corpse. He is completely silent and does not move at all in his sleep.

With you:

He became absolutely addicted to cuddling once you introduced it to him. He would shove you into his chest, kind of like the two of you were hugging, but he has an absolute death grip on you.

Without you:

The skies have a green hue to them as lightning cracks. He is pissed at who or what made you not want or have the time to sleep with him. He would sneak out of his dorm and (break in) sneak into your dorm. He would then climb into bed with you and then instantly fall asleep.

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 4

summary ;; A father protects, that's what gives him meaning. Jake Sully has failed. PART 3 | PART 5 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTES. I explicitly said in the previous chapter I would NO LONGER BE TAKING TAG REQUESTS. You're just going to have to check my profile every now and then. I also will not be re-tagging the peeps I did in the last chapter’s replies, it’s just a lot 😭 I'm sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding! Now I present you, the long awaited angst and groveling of Jake. Enjoy! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and support, I hope the angst hits the way you wanted it / was expecting HHHHH

It’ll shine better, Jake mused to himself, rotating the lumpy amber around in his fingers to better reflect the sunlight streaming in thin rays from the hands of the dense flora above, once I dip this in that polish oil. It’s not entirely unsalvageable. 

At least he hadn’t scraped too much in attempts to give it a rounder shape, the bug at its core you were gushing about to the point of waking him up at zero dark thirty was still intact. He had been summoned from his dreams to look at a cool rock. 

Jake couldn’t not gift it to you as something to be permanently worn after that.

The problem? He was ass at this. Always had been. No drop of craftsmanship in his bloodstream at all when the Na’vi were particularly fond of their ornaments and accessories, making it themselves, in fact. 

Songcords were put together from beads, bones and stones, virtuosity was a must intrinsically woven into everyday life, methodized and irreplaceable since it wasn’t as if mass production could ever be a thing in Pandora. Everything was handmade. 

Jake’s worst enemy beadwork was in their clothing, for example, even in braids — his maladroit at it may or may not be why he wore his hair in plain dreads now. 

He wasn’t an artist or a creator, his hands were more comfortable being fit around a gun or a knife than slipping effortlessly in the rhythm of weaving or the act of making. All his end results were dreadful enough to be bullied relentlessly by his kids — except for you, that is. You absolutely loved them for reasons your mother or none of your siblings could understand. 

Jake’s blundering conscience would melt at the sight of your eyes shining and the biggest smile almost splitting your head in half as if he had just handed you the world every single time he gifted you the newest of his clunky handiwork. He didn’t know why that made you the happiest. You’d been that way ever since you saw him carving and personally adding a bead to his songcord about how he got his firstborn daughter to utter her first word: dada. 

It was important to him, so, down it had gone into Jake’s life story; putting official significance to the moment he never wanted to forget in the same thread that carried the story of him becoming Toruk Makto, just beside Neteyam’s first word, which was also dadada. (Neytiri had Lo’ak’s mam, and Kiri’s perfectly articulated mommy.)

Ever since that day, you had made grabby hands at the bead all the time when he picked you up, teethed at it like a puppy trying to grab a toy, tried to rip it off to make it yours — anything, until Neytiri made you one, but no, you wanted it from dada. 

So dada started making you little trinkets. 

He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing you never grew out of receiving gifts from your dad he himself cringed at. Jake wasn’t one to complain, not when someone in this life would feel such enough joy to purify thousands of blighted souls upon receiving his ugly personal work. It made him happy, stroked his ego to high heavens that his sweetheart was doting on dada to see the imperfect as the most fascinating. 

That’s why he had taken on the daunting task of making a bead for you out of the amber you’d fixated on, rasp in one hand, sitting on a thick log that cut into the little stream he and his family were spending leisurely time that day, one leg pulled to himself and one feet in the water up to his ankle. Even though he had half an ear on his four children playing around in the shallow water of the creek, all the screams and squeals of joy felt weak compared to the contained huff of amusement that escaped from his mate who had come up to Jake while he was way too engrossed in his task. 

His eyes shifted to Neytiri, watching her hop on to the log in one agile move. “Don’t laugh.”

“I am not laughing,” Neytiri said, crouching to sit, her mouth twitched upwards as she looked at the amber in his hand.

“I have eyes, Neytiri, I literally see you laughing.” His face used to burn at her openly teasing about beadmaking, but his oldest daughter’s attentions had restored his bruised confidence over the years. The slander wasn’t taken lightly these days as Jake had proudly relabeled the odd shapes of his work as a creative choice. “Right to my face.”

“You’re mistaken.” 

Jake made his jaw drop, overacting his bafflement. “Wow, gaslighting? Really?”

Neytiri hit his arm lightly. In her terms, it was light, at least. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s something you shouldn’t do to your mate.” He turned his back to her, giving a look over his shoulder. “You’re abusing me. I’m being abused.”

“Baby.”

“No amount of pet names are gonna fix my broken heart.”

“No. You are a baby. I’m insulting you.” Neytiri hadn’t even laughed, but the uplifted timbre of that sentence sure did make Jake snicker in disbelief. “If you can’t take it, maybe you should leave beading to me.”

“I would say they are fashionably off,” he defended. You carried them with delight, so why shouldn’t Jake take more pride in his work? “And you said practice makes perfect years ago, I remember the exact words—”

“Years ago. You still haven’t gotten any better at it.” Neytiri was his biggest supporter and criticizer at the same time. “And you became a part of the clan back in the day in three months Jake. Never a more unbelievable thing to me than this.” 

“I’m trying alright?” He turned back to the bead, or, vaguely bead-shaped amber, if technical terms were involved. It still had a whole adventure to embark on until it could receive the noble title of a bead. “She likes what I make, at least.”

“It’s because she’s your daughter and anything you do is out of this world. Beauty in the most unlikely places. A child’s love is pure that way.” The unexpected hypnotism of poetry in that sentence alone pulled Jake’s gaze to Neytiri’s, and for a moment, he could physically feel his heart within his ribcage being squeezed, tethering on painful, but with a joyful tinge. “She doesn’t have standards yet.”

Well, that hurt. “Damn.”

“Damm!” A pair of small and branch-thin arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and something, or rather, someone, latched onto his back. “Rahh!” 

Jake should have been suspicious of how silent it had gotten halfway into his talk with Neytiri. Turns out, you had swam underneath the log to get out of his line of sight, climbing with the stealth of a bug to come up undetected. 

Well, mark Jake down as impressed, you weren’t able to do that without being spotted until today, this was another wonderful milestone for you — you had learned impressively, taking advantage of his distraction, avoiding making noise and using water to your advantage. Neytiri must have given you some pointers. 

And now he was wondering if his mate was in on this all along, purposefully disturbing his peace so their kids could see an opening to pounce on him.  

“Oof!” Your hold on him was something he could break out of any minute with how adorably strong you were exerting yourself to make it, but he wanted to play along more than anything. Jake was acting panicked, swinging his body left and right from the waist, but really, it was just a light warm-up exercise with the easiest deadlift possible. “I’m being ambushed!”

“I got you now, Toruk Makto!” You wrapped your legs around his torso, and he felt like this was just a piggyback ride with extra steps. “Watch this, mom!”

Oh, it’s on. 

Discreetly handing Neytiri the amber, Jake stood up, bringing you up with him and fighting a smile at your clipped squeak as the height became too much too quick, causing you to cling onto him stronger. He reached behind, and within seconds, he had you in his hands, holding you from the armpits and dangling you above the stream, your kicking legs beating the air, and he cackled like a villain threatening to fling the hero from atop of a skyscraper. 

“You got me? Please.” He loosened his grip the slightest amount to give you the illusion he would let go, and you stopped struggling to scream, catching his forearms. “A measly thing like you? Conquering me? I’ll show you why I’m the king of the skies! Here I come!”

Making sure you wouldn’t get hurt, Jake threw you into the water as gently as possible, but made the angle entertaining enough so you would go flying. He wasn’t sure who’d screeched the highest, your three siblings who had you spearheading this little operation with full trust in your capabilities, or you reacting like you were falling down from an ikran midair. Either way, he was enjoying bullying his kid a bit too much. 

Emerging from the stream and shaking the water off too akin to a wet dog, your first action was to shield your siblings, open arms and whole body and all. “Nete, run! Protect Lovak and Kiri, I’ll save you!”

Jake’s evil smile looming on his kids wavered at that. 

You had problems with some letters even at the big age of eight, two vowels next to each other in one word was one of them, along with the confusion of “f” and “b”, and sometimes “p” — it made for hilarious misunderstandings Jake had to fight to be a parent about instead of busting a lung from laughing. 

One of the many unforgettable events was deemed “The Fish Incident” between Jake, Max and Norm. He had been recording Neteyam’s first catch on his own to add it to the cute memory pile he and his mate would watch in the future after all their children eventually moved out to pursue their paths. You happened to be present that time, watching intently as your big brother shot a particularly giant yellow fish, eagerly jumping down to the pond to get it and showing it to the camera with a shy, yet proud grin on his face. 

“Good job, boy!” Jake had cheered. “Say I got that fish!”

Out of the camera’s frame and making little jumps on your toes, you’d blithely yelled. “Yeah, you got that bish!” 

The rest of the footage was shaky and out of focus, the microphone hadn’t picked up any sound but Jake’s uncontrollable laughter, kicked off by an exploding snort of shock. 

You and Neteyam had no idea why, but after he’d stopped recording with tears streaming down his face, wheezing because he couldn’t stop laughing, you’d joined to laugh and play with him regardless, mirroring his excitement. 

Later though, Jake had to actively make it so you wouldn’t have to say the words kitchen and pitch (and obviously, fish) out loud, at least, in front of Neytiri. He didn’t want to abstain from having a little fun himself, so under no circumstance was she allowed to find out and correct you. And he had it going strong for a while until it slipped when he was talking about a scientist friend over at Hell’s Gate called Richard and you repeated it as “Bitchard”. The word had somehow weaseled into your English lexicon as well, and Neytiri wasn’t illiterate enough to be oblivious to what you’d merrily blurted. 

Good old days. Jake sometimes missed hearing you curse innocently. Neytiri had to take that source of joy away from him. Discouragement and warnings would be given to his kids if they knowingly cussed, of course, Kiri calling Lo’ak penis face was something he’d immediately shot down, but this was harmless, he thought. He could have let you be blissfully unaware until the day you learned the meaning of the words, or gain consciousness of the articulation errors as you grew up and naturally fix it yourself. It was only a natural part of a child’s growth.  

But he had other entertainment. The obligatory consonant you had to sometimes add to two different neighboring vowels if it was too difficult for you to pronounce, for example. Your little brother was a victim to this. Thankfully, Lo’ak wasn’t bothered to be called Lovak by his older sister, somehow thinking of it as a nickname, but Jake could bet his ass the boy would use this as infinite ammo against you once both of you were older. He would of course forget how you always protected him in play fighting like right now, of course, maybe you would remember enough to accuse him of ungratefulness, and perhaps Lo’ak would declare he didn’t recall anything such as that. 

How bittersweet of a thing it was to drift into imaginations of how his kids would be like when they grew up. Like the stinging ache Jake always got when he was confronted with the sadness of losing his children forever one day — the need to put every minute with them in a bottle, and the feeling of time slipping through his fingers, the same old melancholy each time: when it first dawned on Jake that you’d successfully sneaked up on him just now, when Neteyam had captured his first fish all on his own without assistance, when Lo’ak showed him the knife he had successfully carved by himself to get his approval, and when Kiri had tended to a scratch wound of his better than her grandmother did with precocious wisdom on her face. 

Jake was making every moment count. Just like this one. 

“Nobody is safe from me, I’ll huff and I’ll puff and blow your house in!” He jumped down from the log with the grace and intimidation of a leopard who had been disturbed while eating up the tree he’d dragged his meal on, splashing water everywhere. “What will you do, o’ mighty hunter?”

You loved being called mighty hunter by him, he saw the sparkle in your eyes. 

“Noooo!” Kiri cried, pulling on both Lo’ak and Neteyam’s arms huddled behind you. “He’ll get us!”

Your thought process, completely spooked by Jake, was painfully visible. But surprisingly, you yelled, “Scatter!” with the experience of a rave addict who would take a forty and smash it on the ground as the police closed in on the party grounds. And his kids ran in different directions, like a group of cockroaches when someone approached them, they all ran in different directions. 

Sloshing water all around to make it more terrifying, he got Kiri first, hauled her right over his shoulder when she made for Neytiri, thinking her mother could protect her, but no. Jake was inevitable. Lo’ak gave him a weak challenge trying to step around him, getting Jake to confuse his steps as if they were playing basketball, but this was his dad he was facing and not Spider, these tricks didn’t work on veterans, so now he was flush to Jake’s side, tail facing forward, carried like some strapless bag, it didn’t even put any strain on the man’s bicep. Neteyam was the last, hiding beneath the water level and holding his breath, but the little nose peeking out for air gave him away, and Jake had him up the other shoulder in seconds, the boy didn’t have enough time to run away even though he’d spied from underwater that Jake was coming for him. 

Three out of four. That left only his eldest daughter. 

You were nowhere to be seen. The delighted and struggling giggle-cries of the three kids in his arms and shoulders didn’t help at all to Jake taking his surroundings in with a keen ear, all senses attuned to spotting the stray. 

A rustle from above. 

“Attack him!” 

He didn’t have enough time to see just which branch of the trees cocooning the creek you had climbed on before all three in his arms turned on him, flailing around together in unison to get Jake to fall down and kneel, and it surprisingly worked, he couldn’t even recover between the blink of a time between them getting off the way and you jumping down on him. The height at which you did that knocked all air off his ribcage for a second as he tried to retain balance, and you took that chance to sit on his shoulders, your legs dangling from each one, grabbing onto two dreads on his head as if they were the tails of Toruk he once had held onto like leashes. 

Jake had to give this one to you, damn. When had you become a student of the art of strategizing? 

But, defeat was defeat. He had to play his part. “This can’t be!” He opened his arms, making it seem cartoonishly like he had been incapacitated. “I’ve been… bested?”

“That’s right!” The cockiness was dripping from you as you pulled on his dreads. “I’m Toruk Makto Makto now. The first of my name!”

Your siblings started cheering battle cries, repeating the word. 

Don’t laugh, he ordered himself. Toruk Makto Makto, what a title, oh Jesus Christ. 

“Alright, alright, you got me, mighty hunter.” 

“So I win?”

“Yes, you win.”

He was going to have two less dreads on his head if you kept pulling on them like this. “Hell yeah!” 

After hearing the declaration, his other children also joined in on the ‘Hell yeah!’ train. Jake supposed he could let this slide for now, you guys were too happy, he wouldn’t sully it. 

“You’re gonna rip my hair off, get down now.” You understood play time was over from his tone, and obeyed, hopping down his shoulders when he lowered you into the water, immediately attempting to rush to your siblings’ side to be celebrated, but Jake had something else in mind. “C’mere for a sec.”

He pulled you to the edge of the stream where water met grassy land, dipping his hand into the wet soil under your confused gaze and bringing his fingers up to trace a pattern on your face.

The reaction was instantaneous. You pulled back. “Ew, mud!”

“Hold on,” he gently warned, or rather, encouraged.

You let him continue whatever he was doing then, albeit not losing the laughable concern along the way. “What’s this?”

“Well, you’ve tamed Toruk Makto before an ikran. My mighty hunter should be painted accordingly, no?”

He pointed down and you followed it with your eyes. Seeing your reflection and the ‘V’ shape with a dot on your face in the water, you stopped yourself from touching it with the impulse control that kicked in at the last second, looking up at Jake, jumping up and down, unable to contain the energy, knowing exactly what he did just now. He’d recognized you as a prospective hunter candidate. “Thank you, dad!”

Jake could swear his insides liquidized at that. “Always, sweetheart.”

“Will you paint me like this when I finally get an ikran, too?”

“Of course I will.” He actually wanted to cup your cheeks and plant a little kiss at the adorable flat of your nose but the mud would be ruined, so he pet your braids instead. “As will your mother. It’s what family does.”

At the time, Jake didn’t have the slightest inkling that the paint would end up being your own blood. 

Neytiri’s bloody hands — your blood, his child, his child, his baby Jake’s entire day would stop at seeing one tear on her face — had been stroking your face, trying to hold on to you anywhere she could to soothe your flaming pain as you were squirming like a dying animal fighting for the next breath. His heart beating right behind his eyes in a massive pulsating headache, Jake was too desperate fighting his swelling panic with each noise that ripped from you to notice they had left the vague pattern of Iknimaya paint pattern in their wake. 

She did. 

And her following anguished, gasping shudder as her shaking hands hovered above your contorted face, tracing the air along the lines the blood had left on your face ended up hitting him right in the gut. He couldn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t let this random twisted sign sweep him into the roaring waterfall of torment, your life was on the line.  

Jake didn’t have any coherent memory of running back to the mouth of the cave from the family tent. One moment, he was back with his brain fried from thinking about Quaritch in the aftermath of an hour that had just taken twenty years from his lifespan, avoiding the inquisitive silence of his kids who hadn’t gone back to bed yet; and the other, Neytiri was screaming in the distance with terror worse than the anguish he’d heard her go through upon losing her father and her home. Jake had all but flown there, mind blank in swirling, spasming panic. 

Neytiri had told him he had a strong heart the first time they’d met. No fear. Even though Jake was aware he was being disliked strongly, this quality of his she had remarked on, honest to her soul. 

But she was wrong. 

That fearless fortress heart of his had begun to crumble the moment he learned of Neteyam’s existence. And with each and every new addition to their family, Jake had been rehabilitated on what fear truly was, like a baby learning a language. 

Losing. It was all about losing. 

He would wake up from terrorizing, choking nightmares with the sensation of his family being violently taken away from him when his children were in his arms, sleeping peacefully all along. He couldn’t stop it. It had spiraled out of control after the sky people came back, turning him into a paranoid, angry man who was ruled by fear. He worried for the safety of his family every day, obsessed over it — beneath the impenetrable iron mask of a leader his whole clan was leaning on, Jake was nothing more than a weak, emotionally crippled father who would lose it the more his children grew up to take reckless actions he made worse by the inability to govern his fear-curbed anger. He called it tough love. 

That tough love had resulted in this. Loss. Loss. Loss he had tried his damnedest to prevent. It was blood slipping through his fingers from a wound he had no way of stitching back together. 

The more he pushed to block the bullet entrance point, the more you fought Jake, making feral yowls that weakened into animalistic whimpers and throaty whines that all but ripped his heart off muscle by muscle, your hits and scratches didn’t faze him, but the noises. Eywa, the noises. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know you’re in pain, I know, I know, I’ll make it go away, please hold on, c’mon.” The droplets of sweat that had formed in the matter of seconds rolled down his face. You had begun to hyperventilate from the accelerating pain because of his efforts. “C’mon sweetheart. Breathe for me, breathe for dad, okay? You gotta breathe. Breathe!”

You were unhearing, lost in the overwhelming, blinding, deafening agony he couldn’t anchor or shield you from. The grunt of desperation that escaped his sore throat rattled his carbon fiber infused bones.  

Jake didn’t have time to think. His reason had flown out the mountains to be able to force one single word to form in his mindscape. He just knew he had to stop the bleeding, propelled by concentrated instinct. You were struggling too much for him to have a solid hold on you. Everything, too slippery. Too much blood. Too fucking much. The sickening smell of iron bit at his senses. 

(Was it the liver? The spleen? Pancreas? One of the major arteries? But Na’vi biology wasn’t the same as humans. Fuck.) 

Then, you were being restrained by a third party, Neytiri was too devastated to make that reasonable decision, and in his peripheral vision, he saw it was Neteyam who had sat down on your legs, restricting your movements with incredible strength. Jake couldn’t even bark at him to go away with how much Neteyam looked in control, a rock he and Neytiri both could draw strength from. Behind him, Lo’ak was a stone statue just standing there, frozen, his eyes not leaving your bloody abdomen. 

When you let out a yelp his heart could no longer stand, he yelled, “Bring a stretcher!” to nobody in particular, out of his goddamn mind. Lo’ak jumped at it, coming back to his senses, hesitating what to do for a second before he was off to god knows where. He had to take you to Norm’s, and then a doctor—

A tiny, trembling voice he couldn’t recognize as Neteyam’s reached his ears. “Dad…” 

The boy was looking at you, blown eyes shining with unshed tears, upper set of teeth sinking in his shaky bottom lip. 

You had gone slack in his arms. 

He hadn’t even seen the moment, didn’t stop putting pressure on the wound as the dread assaulted his body. And a biting shiver went down his spine before Jake also looked down on his eldest daughter. Your eyes weren’t closed all the way, halted gaze focused on something to the side, one tear rolling down your temple. 

“Don’t do this to me.” Jake couldn’t breathe as he shook his head, he was about to lose it, about to tumble down the edge he could never climb his way up from. In denial, he didn’t lift his hands, losing all strength in his upper body and gradually collapsing forward as his forehead found yours. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, not like this. Please, not like this.”

The last thing you were looking at was the ikran you’d gotten.

Jake didn’t feel that very ikran making its way to their side, flapping its wings, didn’t feel anything to react when a snoot reached down and ever-so-gently nudged you, like you were asleep and it was given the duty to wake you up in the morning that day. 

Your ikran nudged you once. Twice. Thrice. Each push was harsher than the other. 

You didn’t wake up. Your eyes didn’t get their light back. 

A paralyzing numbness took over Jake’s body, all his neuron ends stunted. The moon stopped spinning, time stopped moving, he ceased existing, all at the same time. 

A piercing ringing stabbed his ears, took away his hearing. He didn’t hear Neytiri scream louder than the ikran, you were ripped from his arms, and he couldn’t move to do anything about it, just staring into the distance, at nothing, bloodied palms facing upwards in his lap. 

It was Neteyam who tried to stop his wailing mother from going mad with grief, trying to get her to set down your body from her crushing embrace even though he couldn’t take his misty eyes off your body. It was Lo’ak, frantic in his run even though his panic-frozen face gave away nothing, who had rushed back with Mo’at and Kiri. It was Tuk who had thrown herself into his arms for a hug Jake wasn’t in his body to reciprocate, his seven year old child, in tears, comforting him when Jake, as the adult and the father, should have had his shit together and be the provider of comfort. 

Instead, all he could feel was the blood on his hands, one small part in his mind making him focus on that one amber with a bug inside he’d carved for you, years ago, now in your hair.

The tears didn’t come. His world was shattering all around him, but not one tear made it to the surface. 

Someone was talking to him, but Jake wasn’t there, experiencing the moment behind a thick veil of silencing glass. 

“Open her mouth, Jakesuli.”

He looked at the source of the muffled sound breaching the ringing in his ears, painfully empty and unfeeling. It was Mo’at. In her hand, a woodsprite gently floated in the air and landed before it repeated the motion again. It was as if his brains had been emptied from his skull. He didn’t understand. He didn’t see. Tuk was clinging to him, Neytiri doubled down in waves of cries in Neteyam’s arms. Jake wasn’t there. 

“Open her mouth so I can keep her spirit here longer,” Mo’at said. “Do it now. We do not have much time.”

And Jake could breathe again, his soul slinged back into his body, feeling returning to the tips of his fingers, kicking into action. 

He cradled your body from the cold ground you were lying on, bringing his shaky hand to your tightly shut jaw. Your body couldn’t have been experiencing rigor mortis, so you must have been clenching your teeth to the point of your jaw locking to fight the pain, and he was nearly blinded from the sheer strength with which he had to hold back from hugging you. But he eventually opened your jaw with a sickening pop that made him visibly grimace, and Mo’at guided the woodsprite to slip inside the cavity of your mouth.

The bioluminescent dots on your body began to flicker the moment your mouth was closed again. Jake gave a shuddering breath at the sign of life, hands unsure if he should continue to cover the wound again. 

“Eywa has allowed her to remain. For a while.”

“Oh Great Mother, thank you!” Neytiri took one of your hands, pressing it against her cheek and kissing it over and over again. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Bring her to my tent,” the Tsahik simply stated, and Jake didn’t even stop to consider how he should be taking you to the science guys, how they were probably going to say you needed a blood transfusion and surgery right after they got the necessary tests such as MRI and blood analysis out of the way. Kiri, sniffling weakly, took the crying Tuk away so Jake could carry you. He couldn’t comfort his girls the way he wanted to, couldn’t attend to Neytiri as their sons consoled her and got consoled in return in a tight hug together; he was on the move, heart about to beat out of his chest.  

He took you in his arms and clutched your unconscious and ashen blue body tightly to his chest, your head lolling in the crook of his arm, arriving to Mo’at’s tent faster than she did — and oh, how small you were compared to him, how fragile and vulnerable. The attitude made you appear bigger than you actually were, and Jake was reminded how you were still a child from how light his daughter was, like a fleeting bird. He’d forgotten. It had been forever since he last held you like this that he couldn’t bear to lay you down on the mat. If only he could hide you away within his ribcage, away from the pain and the suffering, forever.

“Everything in this world is borrowed,” she told him, an incense was burned, salves were prepared, tools he had no idea on what they were used were brought out. Plants, herbs. Jake stood there, helpless. “Even this child, Eywa has lent to you. She is borrowed from the bosom of our Great Mother, entrusted to you. Entrusted.” Your freckles were still flickering, and Tsahik’s tone, clipped. “I will converse with her. Ask if she plans to call her daughter back home today.”

Ice washed over Jake. “No, you gotta heal her, Mo’at, I can't lose m—”

“Everything in this world is borrowed. Each breath. Each heartbeat. All children. All gifts from Eywa.” Her eyes bore into him. “I can only ask.”

Neytiri pounced on him as soon as he stumbled out of the tent, beaten and spent despite not having one scratch on his body, upon Kiri’s entrance to assist her grandmother in tending to you. 

“Your fault!” He was violently pushed back, only able to take in the woman’s bloodied, wrathful face, tear tracks freshened with saltwater she couldn’t stop shedding. “This is your fault! I told you! I told you to fix this!”

Jake was aware other clan members were watching even if they weren’t out of their homes, he was Olo’eyktan, their leader, his pride would have taken this to their own tent had this been any other debate, but now, he couldn’t give a flying fuck. Bruising his back was the weight of a failed father instead of the ornamental piece of the clan leader, it was unbearable enough. She was right. There was nothing else to be said. His mate was right. 

“Mother, please,” Neteyam was right beside them in a flash, holding Neytiri back and shielding his father from her. His sunken eyes found Lo’ak and Tuk crouching at the edge of the tent, huddled together, the youngest having the crying hiccups as her older brother had an arm around her, himself looking traumatized enough. 

“Don’t, boy.” Jake put a hand on his stone-hard shoulder, moving him aside. Neteyam took one hard look at Neytiri half-circling his father in long strides, and decided it was best if he took care of his siblings instead even if he wasn’t told outright. He ushered Tuk and Lo’ak up and away, to the other side of the tent where they wouldn’t disturb their parents by staying in the field of vision. 

Jake should have been the one to take control, but Neteyam had stepped up for it — he was a kid, too, eldest child or not. What the fuck am I doing? 

In his tumultuous sorrow, every piece of the fortress Jake had put together was coming down, every decision re-evaluated, emotion overtaking what he once thought as logic. His fault. His fault. He had ruined his children, all of them. He had thought embracing the iron will of a war chief would allow him to be a strong father figure, but it had only alienated his family. 

You had died in his arms. 

Jake contained every storm in a box inside his body, Neytiri lived those storms, she was strong that way. He would take it. Her eyes were only seeing red at the moment, the grief and wrath of a wronged mother. “Yeah, it’s my fault,” he told her, something between a whisper and a sigh. His kids deserved to hear it. “I know.”

“She is dying because of you!” Jake couldn’t escape the truth by closing his eyes, but he did anyway, like an automatic body reflex against detecting something would be hitting him. He swallowed, his mouth was drier than a desert, no relief was found in the action. “My daughter! My child! Your child!” She pushed him again, hissing. Jake didn’t do anything to stop it. “All because you told her to go today—everything, everything… All because you didn’t reach out to her. She hid that.” A shiver shook her voice. “That… because of you. You! She thought you would be angry!”

Violent horror seized his heart, ears pinning back on his head, knuckles clenching so light blue they were almost white. “I would… I would never—how could I ever—?”

But it was in character, wasn’t it? Jake always getting angry over worry for his children. Going crazy because they could have gotten hurt. Fear grows into anger, worm eating away the bark of a tree into poisonous snake. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, chest rising and falling in big breaths, there was no air.  

“She said you hated her. Over and over again, she said you hated her. Not to call you because you would hate her for it, Jake!”

Bitter guilt and glacial shock rose from his stomach, choking him, his eyes looking at anywhere but Neytiri’s blazing golden eyes, to his children who sat together seemingly away from them but blatantly listening, to the tent flames were barely illuminating the shadows inside. His legs were weak. All that he had been breaching behind a wall to prioritize your safety flooded rancid to his mind. 

Jake got angry at you all the time that you’d expected it at your most vulnerable. That he would blame you, reprimand you for his enemy’s actions.

His memories were attacked by all sides. That you had gone off on your own for the Iknimaya everybody should have been there for, he should have painted your face personally for. That you have been hiding the bleeding out from the moment Jake had found you pinned down by the dead body of an avatar, from the moment you’d answered positively to the question of if you were hurt or not, with that rifle he’d thought you didn’t let go because of how the events had shaken you. He opened his mouth, a gaping fish, but no words came out, mute and voiceless. 

Hate you? Hate you? Hate his own child he would burn the whole world for?

His child. Suffering in silence when her nature was anything but silent. Afraid of her father when she was the most fearless of his kids when facing him.

You thought you weren’t loved.

“What have you done to our children? What has this family become? What are we if our children are too afraid to come to us in their darkest hours?” Neytiri was snarling, both fury and grief battling inside her, teeth gnashing so hard they could sharpen a knife. “What child does not seek her parents when she is hurt?” 

Unseeing, Jake couldn’t stand anymore, staggering towards a particularly large rock and sitting on it, he raised his hands to rub his face but stopped when he saw the blood. 

All yours. All his daughter’s who he had failed. Who had died in his arms thinking she was hated because Jake was a shit excuse of a father you couldn’t trust to say you were hurt that you would take the risk of dying so he wouldn’t find out. 

His daughter’s blood, on his hands. 

He put his elbows to his legs, crossing his wrists to lean his forehead on, yet unable to hide his shaking hands even if he managed to hide his face. Jake couldn’t comprehend any of this, crushed beneath the skyful of burning hot shame and the guilt dwarfing him — tears he couldn’t seem to shed found life in his eyes at him trying to blink away the memory of you clinging to your ikran at the flight home. You had been suffering the whole time and all he could think about was Quaritch when he should have been thinking of you.

“What child would rather hide her injury than let her father know?” It shocked his spine like lightning, and Jake visibly flinched, fists clenching and unclenching. “Explain this to me!” 

Shame. Shame. Shame. Jake was about to throw up, rocking back and forth.

He had nothing to say. Nothing could ever excuse this. He couldn’t wash away all your moments from this night, all a cursed film strip haunting his every breath accompanied by thorns that ripped apart his insides. 

“If she lives,” Neytiri said, pointing a curled hand at him, slowly, scarily calm, but shaking with mastered rage. If she lives destroyed Jake.  “We would be lucky if my mother doesn’t decide to perform Stxel’eveng as Tsahik!” 

Jake’s head shot up at the word, his arms dropping altogether and meeting his mate’s tortured stare. As Olo’eyktan, he had to be taught the traditions and ceremonies to the point of talking in his sleep from overlearning — this one was a long lost one the clan hadn’t performed for a long time, as the Omatikayan were faithful and loyal to Eywa and her teachings. 

Stxel’eveng was the shortened word for ‘Gifting of a Child’ — an adoption ceremony within Na’vi that didn’t even have the word ‘adopt’ in their vocabulary, simply because it was almost non-existent, most Na’vi didn’t even know the existence of such a tradition. If the parents were unable to care and provide for their child, mistreated on purpose or neglected them to the point of no return, they were to be publicly dishonored by the gifting of said child to another willing family. A knot would be formed between the three, one thread bound around the waist of the mother signifying the womb, one thread fastened to the queue of the father, and the final thread to the wrists of the child as if they were captive. The knot, then, would be severed by Tsahik to symbolize the dissolvement of the familial relations in Eywa’s eyes.

The biggest shame a Na’vi could bring upon their name. 

“No,” Jake muttered, his mind going blank yet again. Fuck the shame. Damn his name. He couldn’t lose you. It’s a stone in his throat he can’t swallow, whales on his tongue he can’t speak to save himself.

“Pray to Eywa it doesn’t happen. Because if I was Tsahik, I would do it.” Neytiri turned away from him, pushing the heel of her hands on her damp eyes. “I cannot bear this shame, Jake. I can barely breathe.”

He quivered like a baby leaf caught in a storm, a couple more tears rolling down his cheeks. “Neytiri…” 

“I lost my daughter today. She slipped from my fingers. I watched her die.” He lowered his head at her grief, vision swimming. “How am I a mother when I can't feel her pain? How am I worthy of being her mother when I saw my child’s pain and just sat there helpless? Why would the Great Mother ever want to send her back?” She just kept going, not having any mercy on Jake’s soul. “Where was I when she won against her ikran? Where was I when she had her first flight? Where was I to protect her from those demons?”

A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning.

Who was Jake Sully?

“Lo’ak, come back here!” 

Both of them turned just in time to see their youngest son running away from the back of the tent they’d been hiding, Neteyam following a couple steps before he stopped to look back, probably at his sister. 

“I’ll get him,” Jake said, soulless and absentminded. Neytiri didn’t respond, stalking back to Mo’at’s tent, just kneeling in front of the entrance, wrapping her hands and tail around her knees. Tuk turned the corner, scampering towards her and finding refuge in Neytiri immediately wrapping around her protectively. 

Jake wasn’t allowed to comfort his mate. 

But he could get to his children who needed it. Trust, Neytiri had said. Honesty. 

Walking up to Neteyam, he put a warm hand behind his rigid back, and felt the taut muscles relax underneath his touch, another wave of shame hitting at the inability to recall just when he had last comforted his boy. 

“Get Tuk. Go home. Rest.”

Neteyam turned to him, scandalized. “We will stay.”

“Neteyam—”

“Dad—sir, please. I can’t leave my sister.”

That sir was a splash of acid on his already weeping heart. 

It dawned on Jake that Neteyam was the one witnessing your moment of death. Death. A surge of nausea shot up from his esophagus, and he didn’t stop himself from hooking an arm around the boy, careful of using his hands not to get blood on the eldest, pulling him into a much awaited embrace. He hadn’t allowed him to be a kid.

“It’s okay, Neteyam,” he croaked. “She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Neteyam’s arms didn’t wrap around him, unfamiliar to the gesture — crumbling Jake’s already broken heart into dust, but he did shiver, fighting the tremble. He simply said, “I pray so.”

He was still trying to hold it together — for everybody’s sake. 

Jake felt the boy’s tears on his skin, and didn’t let him go when he tried to step back to wipe them, letting Neteyam cry silently as much as he wanted. He owed the boy that much, as his father. It was the least he could do. 

Jake would stitch this family back together. He had to.

Washing the blood off his hands had taken a while. Jake wasn’t let off easy, cursed by the remaining line of bloodied dirt in his nails. 

He found Lo’ak at where it all began. The mouth of the cave where your ikran was disturbing the other ones with restless chittering, reminding Jake of a wolf howling all night at the full moon. 

His youngest son was transfixed by the blood staining the ground. Just standing there, looking at it. Jake couldn’t protect him from the sight. Not anymore. He himself could barely stomach it.

“Is sister going to be taken away?” was the first thing he asked Jake, not looking at him still. 

Jake didn’t know if he meant death, or Stxel’eveng. 

“I pray not,” he told Lo’ak, honest for once. 

And like him, the boy wasn’t sentimental or emotional enough to bear his wounds to another, even to a family member, and fell silent. “It has Toruk’s colors,” he said instead, referring to your ikran’s red, orange, yellow and black patterns. Looking at the creature, Jake tried his hardest to stand up straight when he discerned all the blood coating its neck and back from the natural red color disguising it. “I wanted to fly with her.”

Pulling him into a side-hug, “I’m sorry, Lo’ak,” Jake admitted, causing him to finally break the trance he had on the blood. Speechless at his father, proud and strong, admitting he was wrong out loud and that he was being hugged when it wasn’t like his father at all to show them casual physical affection. Jake knew what must be going through his head, he would be thinking the same if his own father had ever taken responsibility for wrongdoings, as well.  “It’s my fault you didn’t get to.”

Lo’ak’s mouth was hanging low. “Dad…”

“But you will,” he said, determined and full of hope. He had to be. For his children. 

“You think so?”

“I pray so,” he quoted Neteyam. “Your sister is stubborn. She will pull through. Don’t lose faith in her.”

Lo’ak’s grip on his forearm was painful. 

“That ikran’s lost the half of its tail fins,” the boy sniffled, thickening his voice to hide the tears. “How did it get all the way here?”

It stung in Jake’s chest. The same way you’d hidden that injury. Your ikran was fueled only by the desire to get its rider to safety, it seemed. 

It would never fly again. 

Jake looked down at Lo’ak, only to be met with him avoiding his look, still concerned with hiding the tears. “Loyalty,” he said. “Devotion. Sometimes you don’t want to lose the things you love no matter what, that desperation gives you enough strength to push through any trial by fire. You would do anything. Anything.” 

And sometimes it was fear that did it, but he didn’t mention that to Lo’ak to not put salt on their family’s injury. Jake didn’t want to think about how terrified you must have been, or he would actually go insane. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of you not making it in the end. He had to keep going. He had to push forward. Be the father this family needed him to be. 

“Come on, boy,” he pulled Lo’ak gently. “Let’s go back.”

Your ikran whined at this pitifully. Jake tried not to think. He tried not to imagine what your reaction would be upon learning you would never fly together again, and had to put down this ikran that had been devoted endlessly to you if you wanted to get a new one. 

Jake didn’t think. Because if he did, he would actually go insane from the pain. 

Mo’at and Kiri emerged from the tent only in the morning, by which the whole family was cocooned in Jake’s embrace for the first time in years before the sky people had come back. They all had scrambled to get up, waiting with bated breath for one syllable of good news as Kiri slipped into Jake’s arms, one wink from falling asleep while standing. He kissed the girl’s head, soothing her, hoping this could be you eventually. He had been praying for it like a madman. 

“Eywa has accepted to bestow your daughter back to you, Jakesuli,” was the only answer Mo’at had for them, no word about your physical wellbeing. “But only if she accepts as well.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“You must go speak with her. At the Tree of Souls.”

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[penkura]

Connected to this scenario request, here's a little part two! I might be making this into a small series, idk yet!

Law’s office door is rarely ever wide open. Everyone knows how it works, if the door is cracked just a bit he's welcoming anyone who wants to come in so long as they knock first. If it’s closed completely, you better keep walking, he doesn’t want to see or speak to anyone at that moment thank you very much. It hadn’t changed at all with the two, small additions to the crew in the form of Noa and Luna, though Law is less likely to get onto either of the children if they simply barge right in. They’re just kids, they don’t know all the rules of the ship yet, it’s only been about three weeks at this point since you brought them on accidentally.

It hasn’t been bad at all to have them around, they haven’t interrupted his work so Law is fine with the two kids staying aboard for the foreseeable future. Not like you, Bepo, or Ikkaku are going to let them go any time soon anyway. He has to admit he doesn’t mind how lively it’s become with them around. Despite being your responsibility, everyone has been helpful in getting the five-year-old and nearly two-year-old settled, even helping at night when Luna becomes fussy or Noa has a nightmare.

Law doesn’t realize how much he actually enjoys having them aboard until one day when the Polar Tang makes it’s way into much colder waters, he’s first one up as always and has his coat on quickly, stopping long enough in your shared bedroom to throw an extra blanket over you and the two children asleep in your bed, you’ve got to stay warm too. For once he’s glad this office is so close to his room, less of a walk in the chilly hallway though he stops Clione, who is just coming off night watch, to turn up the heat so no one complains they’re freezing to death. He’s barely done any work when he hears his office door open, expecting a ‘good morning captain’ from whoever it was, but he never hears anything, instead being slightly startled when something grabs onto his leg and starts burying it’s face in his coat.

“…good morning, Luna-ya.”

The toddler looks up at Law, a sleepy grin on her little face which makes him smile softly at her. She’s very good at slipping into his office and nearly giving him a heart attack, since she doesn’t talk yet she’s quiet enough to sneak into various places. Her favorite place to slip into being his office because she just adores Law, he doesn’t get why but won’t argue it.

It really makes him think of Lami when she smiles at him.

“Uh! Uhh!!” Luna lifts her chubby arms up and grabs at Law, making him nod as he sets down the book he was holding. “Uh!!”

“I know, I know. You want up.”

She’s so small and light, Law has zero problems lifting her up, Luna gives a little squeal of delight before she hugs him around the neck. Law has rarely thought about you two having kids, but has constantly pushed it away because he’s just not sure about it. Having Noa and Luna around has been more than enough right now, they’re helping him see if you might be able to handle having kids of your own, but for now, this is fine.

Once Luna catches sight of the book he’s been reading, her eyes light up and she starts to point at the pictures of the next island you’ll be docking at.

“That’s where we’re going next. You think it’s pretty?”

“Ooo…”

Luna’s little ooo’s and aah’s at the pictures makes Law smile while he flips through the book for her. He’s watched you read through picture books with her and Noa, Luna loved to stop you and stare at the pictures, the colors make her happy and she has nearly torn a page out multiple times, but you’ve been able to stop her. Law hasn’t told you about the few times she’s slipped into his office and he’s stopped everything to read her a book she’s brought to him, only because of his original insistence about not having them aboard. He still doesn’t think it’s the safest place for them, but it has to be safer than where they were living at that point.

Luna keeps making little sounds and grabbing at the pages of the book, especially when she sees the flowers, Law tries to explain to her what each one is but she’s not really interested in that. She just likes looking at the pictures and seeing the pretty colors.

“This is a park there, it’s nothing but flowers,” Law points at a picture while Luna ‘aah’s at all the flowers on the page, “We can take you and your brother there. You can see all the flowers in person.”

While she doesn’t respond with a word, Luna nods a little before yawning and rubbing her eyes, laying her head on Law’s chest. It’s way too early for her to be awake, he realizes, as she sticks her thumb in her mouth while he adjusts so her head is against his shoulder. Closing the book, Law is quiet while he takes Luna over to the couch in his office, laying across it and covering her with a small blanket he has.

“You go back to sleep, all right? When [Y/N]-ya gets up, she’ll come get you for breakfast.”

She’s asleep so quickly he doesn’t notice at first, not until she starts drooling on his coat. Ah well, it’ll wash later, for now he’ll let her stay comfortable and safe, even when he dozes off on his own.

You do find them a little while later, Noa by your side and feeling relieved when you find where Luna had snuck off to. You’re glad Law has come to accept having Noa and Luna on board, it’s like you two have your own little family now and all the help in the world with the rest of the crew.

This is more than you could’ve ever asked for.

[hazeltongzhi]

How does one argue against, for the lack of a better word, materialist defenses of capitalism (like for example "capitalist countries have higher GDP than noncapitalist countries, which means they're Better"). I used to appeal to morality when critiquing capitalism to some success in the past, but now I've been reading Real Theory more and speaking with more educated people, now I have zero faith in my ability to properly critique capitalist ideology without falling back on moralistic arguments. How does one avoid moralistic thinking, especially when talking with one not already versed in materialism?

While appeals to morality do work on some, it won't work on everyone and it sits on relatively shaky ground compared to scientific explanations. Before you do any convincing or arguing remember to know your audience. Trying to convince some bourgeoisie to support socialism won't work since it's asking them to abandon their class interests. 9 times out of 10, this simply won't work (once in a blue moon, you'll get a class traitor but don't rely on it). Do a proper class analysis of your audience before continuing.

In short, you need to scientifically and rigorously study and understand socialism, as it has and currently exists; from the Paris Commune to the PRC.

You have to know the total steel output of China in 1949 versus 2023. I kid, but understanding how the living standards of a country improved under socialism is crucial to add context. You have to understand the metrics that capitalist economists use and why they're inadequate. You have to be able to replace that with a metric that actually matters to everyday people; average lifespan, child mortality rate, electrification rate, poverty rate (not defined by IMF or world bank metrics), literacy rate, home ownership rate, etc., etc..

Another important skill is being able to identify, understand, and provide solutions for the contradictions under capitalism is also incredibly important. Anyone, including the defenders of capitalism, say that the capitalist mode of production has flaws. The question, then, is to propose a solution. For example, houselessness is an ever increasingly acute problem faced by advanced liberal democracies across the globe. The liberal answer is that this is a supply issue as having more supply should drive down the price. However, pointing out that having more supply simply makes it so that those with the economic power to purchase units will snap up those excess supply and return the market to the same equilibrium. The socialist solution, then, is to abolish the commodification of housing, getting rid of landlords or having rent caps, nationalizing developers, etc..

For most people you encounter, assuming they're proletarians, you will have to teach them the basics of materialist analysis. That means breaking them out of liberalism. To do this, you yourself need a solid understanding of dialectical materialism and historical materialism, the foundational framework of analysis for Marxism. The basics of which, being able to recognize distinct classes, their material needs, how these needs conflict with each other, and what material actions each class does to try and resolve these needs. To start breaking someone out of liberalism, you have to be able to identify and attack liberalism as an ideology. Point out how it fails to explain the world then replace it with scientific socialism. For example, liberalism posits that problems with greed, e.g. billionaires and companies exploiting workers more and more is that individual billionaires or companies are the problem and that by replacing those individuals, those systematic issues will be fixed. You have to show that those individuals act that way because the profit motive forces them to; that if they fail to bring in profit, they will be sacked by the investors or board of directors for someone who is willing to exploit. Then show that these are the material reasons for why bourgeoisie exploit, instead of inherent evilness or some immaterial thing.

It is not an easy or quick process and I myself took several years to read and learn before I started coming out in full offense on the side of scientific socialism. But this process is necessary in order to agitate, organize, and fight for a proletarian future.

[peachesyeo]

8/9... 8/8 - ATEEZ OT8 part one

THIS IMAGINE IS MATURE! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

⊹ 2k words ⊹ friends!ateez x fem!reader (ft. straykids) ᭡ angst, mature.

✧ a/n: hi. erm. yeah. i guess. in a rainy and depressive mood these days, but i'll be fine. might take a while to update, please be understanding. thank you.

thank you @sousydive for beta reading.

⊂ content: shitty ateez (esp jongho & wooyoung) warning. name-calling, slapping, crying, stray kids being absolute angels. friendship problems, both sides are in the wrong. strong language. please don't hate jongho i love my baby bear pls, a little self-harming.

✦ network: @newworldnet

:̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? :̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞? :̗̀➛ 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? (for all works)

You sat on your bed, staring at your phone. 

Zero notifications. 

No calls, no texts. No one asked for you. 

Your fingers swiped open the group chat. The last message was sent by you, asking if anyone wanted to grab lunch together. 

Nine members, eight reads, zero replies. 

You put your phone down, thinking about your recent behaviour. Have you done anything wrong? Did you accidentally offend them? Or perhaps, say the wrong thing?

You sighed, throwing your phone to the side and looking at the frame photo by your bed. You and the boys were huddled together, laughing at the camera. It was San’s birthday, and all of you had come up with a surprise party. The nine of you, all together, celebrating, smiling.

When was the last time you hung out with them?

Was it… three months ago? Four?

“They’re probably busy, Y/n…” You muttered to yourself, blinking rapidly so the sudden tears that gathered in your eyes wouldn’t fall. You sniffed, shaking your head. “Stop over thinking, Y/n.” You looked at your reflection in the mirror, your fingers curling into a fist. “You’re fine. Stop behaving so childishly.”

You let yourself fall onto the pillows, staring up at the ceiling above you. Every single time you send a message to them, they would reply dryly. 

Maybe they’re sick of you, Y/n. 

You closed your eyes, wrapping yourself up in a foetal position. 

Everything will be fine. 

You know something is wrong, Y/n.

No, everything is fine. Nothing is wrong. 

Stop lying to yourself. 

I’m not lying to myself. 

Are you?

“I’m not.” You whispered, your voice shaky and unconfident. Tears gathered up at your eyes as you tried to get yourself to sleep.

You woke up with a gasp, breathing heavily as you bent over to the side of the bed, retching dryly. You were covered in cold sweat, shaking as you recovered your breathing. 

The annoyed expression on your friends faces seemed so real, to the point that you cannot differentiate between your dream and reality. You raised your knees to your chest, hugging them as you tried to calm yourself down.

It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real

“A nightmare. It’s a nightmare.” You told yourself, covering your face with your hands. “Y/n, stop it. Stop overthinking, you idiot.”

You reached for your phone, tapping on Seonghwa’s chat.

You: Oppa, are you busy? | You: Oppa, are y| You: Oppa, a| You: Oppa, I had a nightmare.| You: Oppa, I ha| You: Oppa,|

You stared at the screen, your fingers pausing in mid air. 

You: Oppa| You: Op| You: |

You scrolled upwards, reading your previous chats. It was mostly you talking about your problems, and Seonghwa advising you on what to do. You swallowed your saliva, reading his replies, which were getting drier and drier as you scrolled down.

Hwa Oppa: Y/n-ah, sorry, I’m busy. Hwa Oppa: Ok. Hwa Oppa: Ttyl. Hwa Oppa: Mhm.  Hwa Oppa: K. Hwa Oppa: Can you text me later? Hwa Oppa: Kinda busy now.

You tapped on his profile. Online 3 hours ago. The time now is 2am.

A sense of helplessness swallowed you as you let the phone drop onto your bed. You looked outside of the window, letting out another sigh.

You can't sleep anymore.

Maybe you should try one more time?

Y/n: Oppa, can we talk?

Seonghwa frowned at the notification. In front of him, Mingi was hollering with the mic, along with San, who was shrieking at the top of his voice, abusing poor Yunho's ears, who was sitting nearest to the speaker.

"Who is that?" Jongho asked, peering at the screen over his shoulder. "Oh." He looked away uninterestedly, taking a mouthful of his alcohol.

"Y/n?" Wooyoung grabbed Seonghwa's phone, scowling. "Does she want to complain about her boring work problems again? I have enough of listening to her shit-"

"Wooyoung. Stop it." Hongjoong warned. The latter rolled his eyes, giving Seonghwa his phone back before going over to San to snatch his microphone. As they scuffle over it, Yeosang sighed, frowning.

"I still don't think it's a good idea leaving her out and ignoring her like that, hyung." He watched the two fight while Mingi continued to sing his heart out. "We should sit down at talk it out-"

"Listen, I've tried. But every single time she would talk about her stupid work problems, I just needed a break from her, okay?" Seonghwa shot back, irritated. Yeosang put his hands up in defeat, shutting up. Seonghwa turned his phone off, shaking his head. “I’ll just… text her later.”

Jongho snorted, turning his attention back to the singing trio. Yeosang bit his lip nervously, but Hongjoong clapped his back. “Hey, just chill. Y/n would be fine without us anyway, she has so many friends.” He stuffed a glass of beer into Yeosang’s empty hands. “Here, take a drink and just forget about her, okay? It's been some time since all eight of us can come out together.”

Yeosang’s fingers grip the glass nervously. Yunho, who had crawled over to their seat to get away from the speaker, saw his hesitancy and rolled his eyes. “Hyung is right, Yeosang-ah. Y/n wouldn’t die without us. We should have our Boys Night anyways. Just drink.” He pushed the glass to Yeosang’s lips, the younger finally taking a sip reluctantly. 

“Yeah.” He watched Jongho, who had joined in with the three at the front. “You’re right.”

It's not much of a problem.

Right?

Your phone buzzed. Your eyes lit up, grabbing it and scanning at it.

Felix (Baking Class): Hey, this is Y/n right?

You slumped in disappointment, but soon it turned to confusion. What's Felix texting you at 2am for?

Felix Lee, a sweet Australian you've met through your baking class. You have enjoyed talking to him, the both of you exchanging tales of your baking mishaps. None of the boys, not even Wooyoung, likes to bake. So only Felix understood your problems with baking.

You: Hey Felix. You: What can I do for you?

Felix (Baking Class): I don't think I'm supposed to tell you this but Felix (Baking Class): You're friends with Hongjoong hyung right?

You: Yeah Felix (Baking Class): Erm, so my friends and I were at the nuraebang Felix (Baking Class): Changbin hyung was recording er, Jeonginnie just now

Felix (Baking Class): It's not like we're eavesdropping or anything, but erm I think you should, listen to this

Felix (Baking Class): *video.mp4*

Something is wrong.

Yeosang forced a laugh as he sipped on his coffee. They were in San's house, eating breakfast. Wooyoung busied himself over the stove, while Hongjoong was muttering to himself, his hands furiously typing away on his laptop. Mingi continued to talk after getting a reaction from Yeosang, but the man's attention had drifted elsewhere.

"...and then that's it. My manager just let me off." Mingi smirked proudly, earning a thumbsup from Yunho and San. Seonghwa rolled his eyes. "You were lucky this time, Mingi-ah. Yeosang, eggs?"

Yeosang gave him a small shake of his head. "No thank you. Hyung, did you text Y/n?"

The kitchen went silent at the name. Even Hongjoong looked up from his screen. "Y/n?"

"Yeah. She erm, hasn't contacted us in a week?" Yeosang reminded, shaking his phone in their face. "She usually texts us in the morning in the groupchat-"

"C'mon Yeo, that's a good thing." Wooyoung came out of the kitchen, untying his apron and frowning at Yeosang. "Don't spoil the mood early in the morning."

"Maybe she's busy, Yeo." Yunho suggested, wolfing down his pancake. "She did say that her boss sent her for some field checks. And don't be so mean, Woo."

Wooyoung pouted. "I'm just annoyed at her. And why isn't Jongho back?"

Jongho felt guilty.

He sipped on his cup of americano nervously, glancing at you. You sat with your gaze lowered, fixated on your own cup, your eyes cast downward.

He had bumped into you at the supermarket while getting syrup for Wooyoung. He didn't know why, but when he saw you, he had this sudden desire to run away.

Like a little boy after making a mistake.

"Erm, Y/n, how are you?" He decided, speaking carefully. You looked up from your cup at him, before tugging the corner of your lips upwards.

"Jongho-ah. Please, be honest with me." You pressed the nail of your thumb into your skin, the piercing pain kept your tears in. “Do I… really annoy you guys? When I’m telling… No, when I'm complaining about…” You bit your lower lip, suddenly feeling pathetic. Then you breathed in, before speaking again. “You know what, nevermind. I heard that you guys needed a break from me- Don’t need to explain, I heard it for myself.” You stopped Jongho as he opened his mouth to explain. “I totally understand that. But I’m just here to tell you that leaving me out is not cool. We’re adults, Jongho-ah. You and the boys should have just told me.”

“W-we’re just afraid that you’ll be upset-” “So you guys started leaving me out? Ignoring my texts? Talking behind my back?” You pressed your thumb harder into your skin, angry tears welling up in your eyes. “Like a teenager in highschool? Choi Jongho, you know that’s not… that’s not…” You glared at him, your brain searching for the right word. 

“Not how you should behave as a friend.” Someone placed their hand behind your back, patting them. The both of you looked up to see Felix, who was holding up a cup of coffee. Behind him, Bang Chan and Jisung waved at you. You blinked quickly, forcing the tears to go back in and waved back at them, before turning your attention to him. “Lixie? What are you doing here?”

“Breakfast with my hyung and Han Jisung.” He jabbed his thumb back at the two of them. Felix then turned to Jongho, offering him a simple smile that did not reach his eyes. “Hi, I’m Felix. I heard a lot from Y/nnie about you.” He introduced himself, his hand never leaving your back. Jongho frowned, glancing from his hand and back to his face. 

“I’m Jongho.” His voice was unwelcoming. Your brows furrowed. “Jongho, that was ru-” “It’s okay. Sorry if I interrupted you guys, but hyung’s asking whether you wanna join us later for lunch. Minho hyung cooked the dish you said you’d like to try.”

Your eyes lit up at his words. “Really?” You exclaimed. Jongho observed your exchange with a stoic expression on his face. Felix nodded. “Yeah, I’ll call you later?”

You nodded. Felix patted your hair, gave a friendly nod to Jongho and returned back to his hyungs. As soon as he left, Jongho sneered. “So, you’ve been hanging out with those kind of people?” 

Your smile froze. “What did you say?” 

Jongho shook his head mockingly. “Them, Y/n L/n. Hanging out with Felix Lee and his stupid little gang?” He hissed. “What did they offer you? Money? Are you fucking with them?” 

You stared at him in disbelievement. “What? Did I say something wrong?” Jongho scoffed, sending a glare over to Felix. “You know they are rivals with Seonghwa hyung, right? They play around, Y/n. Are you being a whore for them-”

A loud, resounding slap echoed through the cafe, capturing the attention of everyone dining inside. Jongho touched his burning left cheek, slowly turning to face you. You were standing up, your chest heaving in anger and humiliation at Jongho’s words. Regret instantly flooded his eyes, as Jongho realized what he had said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Say that I’m a slut? For hanging out with a group of men?” You finished the sentence for him, your voice filled with anger and sadness. “Choi Jongho, you’re an asshole. Fuck you. You all are assholes!” You cursed as you grabbed your bag and headed out towards the exit. 

As you ran out, Jongho saw Felix and his friends hurried to follow you too. When his eyes met Felix’s, the latter smirked at him, and Jongho gritted his teeth. 

He fucked up.

➳ permanent taglist: @sousydive @oddracha @yeodeulz @jaerisdiction

[ayeforscotland]

Trying to limit and monitor kids’ social media usage would make so many problems so much worse and I need people to think about it objectively and not take it into consideration just because the concept is a knee-jerk reaction from a grieving mother being exploited by everyone around her.

— Kids already lie about their age, so an age limit is already unenforceable unless you literally require legal ID, which is an incredible breach of privacy with even further safety risks.

— Vulnerable children including LGBTQ kids living with bigoted families would be put in real-life danger of abuse or homelessness if their families had a way of knowing when they’re seeking support.

— The internet and technology is a requirement to navigate the world around you at the most basic level. That is a fact and schools know it too. Limiting access to that in this day and age would be massively limiting one’s knowledge, safety and basic life skills, especially if their family is neglectful or abusive.

— What constitutes as social media cannot necessarily strictly be defined. Some people consider WhatsApp to be social media despite the fact it’s a texting app, and the people you communicate with there are presumably people you’ve spoken to before if you know their numbers. Kids need a way of communicating with people for both practical and safety reasons, and blanketing almost everything as ‘social media’ and limiting access to it inhibits that.

— If you put a ban on all ‘social media’ until the age of 16 and then suddenly allow access, what you end up with is a child who has zero knowledge or experience of something suddenly being thrown into a world where anything is possible. It’s like when teens are forbidden alcohol their whole lives and the day they turn 18 they go on a massive binge not knowing their limits and end up either sick or in the hospital. It’s a recipe for disaster. They NEED exposure so they can learn.

— Let’s be real, kids would find a way around a ban through VPNs or other means anyway. We all figured out how to dodge the website blockers at school when we were 12. I doubt this would be any different.

While the fact that one of the killers watched gore on the dark web is indeed concerning, I really feel the spotlight is being shone on entirely the wrong issue here. Their conversations about the murder were all on social media and provided significant proof for the case. What kids need isn’t for adults to try to control them and read everything into their lives, it’s for adults to communicate with them and make them feel comfortable enough to talk to them when they have a problem. And that’s ignoring the, you know, whole transphobia thing.

(Sorry to write a dissertation in your inbox but despite my deepest sympathies and compassion for Esther seeing people put any stock into her awful, awful idea when that’s so clearly not the problem does quite frustrate me and I need everyone to know just how illogical it is)

I don’t need to add anything to that besides saying this line of argument is very similar to the people who campaign for an internet where no one can be anonymous, it puts so many additional people at risk.

Thanks for taking the time to share!

[shiurkoma]

Take: chaotic evil Yehonatan, in which he knew David is meant to replace him and his father from the very start.

TLDR: Yehonatan is as, if not more likely to be the abuser in their relationship because it is plain unfair to overlook how humongous their power gap is, and he is abused enough to be at least a little unhinged in his noggins.

Warning: dead dove do not eat. Im going to entertain an idea where Yehonatan is definitely not a good person. If you have a problem with that, or have issue reading fictional underage abuse and emotional manipulation, please stop reading. Finally, nothing about this is meant to be serious interpretation of the original text, it's all plain headcanoning for fanfiction.

(For the record, i seriously do not consider David (even close to being) a morally good individual in any possible sense of the word. It doesn't make any of this ok tho)

Some fanfics i've seen paint the davinatan ship as a manipulative one, with david being the seducter that manipulates Yehonatan into simping for him, only to discard him after David achieved his goals. Even outside of fanfictions, i know of people who view Yehonatan as a tragic victim. While i appreciate David's more malicious side being acknowledged, and agree with it more than depicting them simply and benignly loving eachother(tho i appreciate that too), I can't help but think how both protrayal down plays just how utterly creepy yehonatan's part in the relationship is.

Like, Yehonatan, a middle aged man with wives and kids, went ahead and basically stripped in front of a teen the first night they met then gave him some really personal and valuable gifts. If thats not a red flag i don't know what is.

Yehonatan is someone you do not want to cross, maybe even more so than Saul.

It is easy to forget that, holding the title of eldest son and legal heir to the throne comes with immense pressure, responsibility and danger, and dealing with all that takes more than just a thick backbone. With a deranged father as king, people around him are constantly plotting to take the throne for themselves. All bets are off in the war for the throne, even if Yehonatan doesn't actually want to be king, his competitors (which includes but not limited to his entire family) wouldn't rest until he is dead. He isn't in a position where he can just back off: it isn't unheard of that princes and kings renounce their positions, retire, and end up getting assassinated or executed anyway. Because king or not, they are still legitimate heirs to the throne and therefore a potential threat.

Basically, Yehonatan lives in a situation where he simply cannot afford to show weakness or hesitation, not to his subordinates, not to his brothers, not to his father, not to anyone. What doesn't kill you makes you dangerous, and Yehonatan is deadly in that sense.

(But its not to say all that didn't take a toll on his mental wellbeing. Yehonatan has no business being mentally ok. He watched his father ascend to the throne, watched as Saul sunk further towards insanity, and had to endure his often psychotic abuse for years. I don't believe one bit that he isn't depressed and at least a little messed up, especially in a time where mental illnesses aren't even acknowledged yet.)

To sum it up, as a weathered crown prince, Yehonatan would logically be a person who is reasonably paranoid, moderately ruthless, extremely strong willed and more than competently intuitive about the motives and intentions of people around him.

David on the other hand (at the start of their relationship anyway) had no prior experience mingling with politics, no ties in the palace, was never regarded with importance by his father or brothers (meaning he had zero exposure and no one ever invested in him), young and inexperienced (meaning vulnerable to manipulation), stands no chance against Yehonatan if he were to play mind games on him.

David could pull an Esther on Yehonatan. But keep in mind Esther and a lot of other femme fatal spies in history had ties that helped pull strings from the outside, they are often not the master mind either. David had himself, and practically nothing else.

This is why Yehonatan helping him matters so much. Useing weak willed and easily manipulated individuals only works for you if you are already a powerful dictator. If you have absolutely nothing you need powerful allys.

The most straightforward option for dark Yehonatan is just to kick the creep element up ten notchs. David tries to seduce Yehonatan, then immediately realises he bit off more than he could chew: he is just too possessive to be controlled. Yehonatan in this scenario probably somewhat resembles that purple creep from Tokyo ghoul, entertaining while the shock value lasts, but after that it gets pretty shallow. I hate this approach tbh.

Or, him seeing David that day was Yehonatan's last straw(what i doodled basically). He stops giving a sh*t about everything, and thought since he is so "in love" he might as well groom and sodomize David. Its a petty way of getting back at God for making him fall for the boy, and for making his life miserable in general.

He uses his charms and presents himself as a saintly figure to appeal to David's more religious side, then proceeds to not only make sure that David is emotionally dependent on him(i won't elaborate how but its easier than you think), but also plans to make it so that if he dies it will f*ck David in the head. He enjoys this, because for once in his life he feels a "real" sense of control, albeit a twisted and perverted one.

(Maybe he will feel shame and regret eventually, but thats another talk for another day.)

I'll borrow my friend's comment to sum up the take: "a broken abused individual perpetuating a cycle of abuse to an ambitions sociopathic twink, each making the other worse just through being together." Another reason i prefer this version of dark Yehonatan is cuz it restores some agency Yehonatan desperate lacks.

Strayed quite far from his canon image with my shameless slandering but yeah that's about it. For now. Might explore David's pov in this later.

[galactic-rhea]

The thing with Anakin TCW is that I try to reconcille both "versions" of Anakin, but because I keep in mind that at the end of the day, TCW is a serialized kids show, and he's also a general and in charge of a padawan so he must be really charismatic for that to work (long rambling ahead)

This show came in an era where shows ran long, with very random plots per episode and just very few that advanced "a plot", so characters that are new for the show get more development (since they were at zero), and Anakin with already three movies (technically 6 if we count the original trilogy), a mini series, and a bunch of books and comics, feels more flat for the very short narrative purposes.

The way i see it, TCW can be like seeing Anakin from someone's else eyes, like that's probably how Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and Rex saw him, cocky and sassy and fearless and daring and untouchable and cool and sometimes with anger coming from apparently nowhere, and the movies are the actual "omnipresent" look, we see how actually deeply fucked up and scared Anakin is!

TCW gives like a very pink tinted glasses view of him, a very standarized version of him, since the "otherness" that he has in the prequels was really hated (and with otherness i mean that he acts alienated and tormented, is because of the trauma, but also because he can be so easily read as neurodivergent and/or queer; movie Anakin looks like he might as well be a giant walking target for bullying, so to speak), so TCW Anakin looks like he totally would have never ever been bullied, he's the cool kid.

If I don't constantly keep on mind this is probably Ahsoka's POV, it can be a bit hard to connect, like the last episodes in TCW, when he sees Ahsoka, he's like 2 days before ROTS, and he looks so cheerful and normal and sassy, but then if you look at ROTS, he looks so tired and beaten up and just depressed after that battle. But Anakin, in AOTC and ROTS, in general, is a person that looks like doesn't even want to be there at all, he looks like he would rather turn invisible.

I don't have that many problems with Anakin in TCW except for certain arcs (looking at you clovis), because many things in the show do add to Anakin's narrative and character (or more like, pilling up even more trauma onto him for the big moment), but it's not a complete look because by the point we should see how he's dealing or coping with something the episode ends and the next episode is about something different. TCW is plot focused and there are very little "breathing" moments before the action, and is not very character focused. Which leaves the audience with the task of remembering that whatever happened in the show is another piece of the puzzle that may or may not fit perfectly with the character that was presented on the prequels.

"This episode very painfully reminds you that he was a slave, and he's angry about it, very angry...for one bit of the episode, let's go back to the fun action." It touches it, but it doesn't explore it, if you get what I mean? Like, we can only imagine if he had difficult weeks after that or how even was the conversation after all that whole mess, just as an example.

I agree that Anakin in TCW is a incomplete version of his character, because TCW focuses a lot on the Clones and Ahsoka and other little stories, however I also think it does add lots of stuff to explore, even if the show didn't explore it deeply, but touched on it.

And I understand too why it causes such a division, and why some may prefer the TCW version more, and why some may prefer only the movies version.

I mainly use the movies, and then take from TCW what I feel like it fits/makes sense for him, and shake TCW a little bit if i need to, although i still really love it : D

[wszczebrzyszynie]

18, 17, 4, 9, 16 + prezmek

prezmek... thats a lot of questions so im putting it under the read more. makes me so happy to talk about him

17 - how did they spend their summers/free time as a child?

well summer is the time of harvest, so he would usually help with that. But as for free time; he would probably hang around his siblings and play with them maybe, especially with Lena (i imagine both of them rough playing as children because everything in their family is tough and rough. At least that was fun), or he would just stare at the sky or would try to catch fish in the river with his bare hands or something. I think he was rather boring even as a kid

18 - their opinion on lying, stealing, and killing?

master zero opinions on anything... he doesnt appreciate being lied to but he also just cant bring himself to feel anything real about it. Even with someone like Ryba, the lie would have to be pretty big to actually affect him. I think hes just a bit miserable like that. He has no opinions on stealing as long as its not him who is being robbed or hes not the one who will get in trouble, but he wouldnt steal himself. But i suppose it all depends, in modern au Ryba tends to shoplift and i just cant imagine Przemek caring about it, especially if he gets something out of it

4 - how crafty/resourceful are they?

this made me look up the crafty and resourceful definitons. that does not mean what i thought it did. well either way hes not very smart and his way of dealing with everything in life is to be vaguely miserable and soldier on instead of actually solving the problem outright. hell either wait for it to pass, get used to it or do something about it if it starts to get life threatening bad

9 -favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?

Przemek will eat anything you give him because he doesnt like to waste food and eats a lot... very much not picky. His favourites are rosół, schabowy and jabłecznik... which is the most basic polish dinner you can possibly imagine. He also really likes alcohol. he would make for a perfectly average polish dad

16 - do they have any pets? what do they call their pets?

if he wasnt so tired all the time he would like to have a dog. His family probably has one or more back home but hes not really there

[igotanidea]

Fixed: Jason Todd x reader

@jasontoddsthickbabe asked me for a story when Jason's girl find out she is pregnant, and once @pinksirensong found it out, supported this idea, so they left me no choice in the matter.

This can be read as part 2 of my ff Broken, since it gives the origins of the problem.

MINORS DNI!

***

Ever since he realized what was bothering her so much to push him away, Jason was doing anything he could to prove that she was the most important person for him.

Sure, it was hard, but he could never insist on having kids or parting ways with his love just because of something she had zero influence on.  Obviously he supported her through the therapy and treatment which was a bitch. All those medicines and hormones made her mood swing, her weight go up and her hair fall. She hated herself. She hated what it was doing to her body and how unattractive she felt.

One night, when Jason came back from patrol, he found her in the bathroom, crying on the floor, squeezed in the corner between the toilet and the sink sobbing uncontrollably.

“Baby?” without second of hesitation he dropped down on his knees next to her, grabbing her face in his large, still gloved hands “Baby, look at me, what happened?”

“I’m hideous” she cried “I’m fat and ugly and I feel like crying all the time. Why isn’t is working Jace? It’s just so unfair, you know?” she hiccupped, looking as broken as his heart was becoming at the moment “there are so many people who don’t want kids. At all. And never care about them…..”

“Don’t I know that…” he muttered

“Oh my god! I’m sorry, Jace, I’m so sorry. I never should have brought that up. Stupid me, I’m so sorry!” she hid face in hands, unable to look him in the eyes after saying thing like that.

“Stop saying you’re sorry” he put an arm around her waist, pulling her in, so she wouldn’t lean on the cold tiles on the wall “You did not say a thing wrong. Just facts. And it is unfair. And I wish it wasn’t, cause if there’s anyone who deserves good things in life it’s you.” closing his eyes he kissed top of her head.

“You too….” She mumbled incoherently, still sobbing and shaking, just a little bit less “listen Jace, I won’t hold it against you if you want to back out….”

“We’ve been through this, babe. I already told you I only want you. ”

“I know, but I’m being a menace because of the treatment. A challenge. A torment. It’s ok if you don’t….”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He hissed and leaned in to kiss her.

To say it was fiery would be an understatement.

I mean, consider the fact he came back from patrolling, the adrenaline was still bubbling up in his veins and it seemed like putting all the energy and attention on her would be good for both Jason and his girl.

“Jason…..” she whined feeling how hard he was getting “not here…. Not like this…”

“Right.” Only now he realized he was about to fuck her on the bathroom floor next to the pot. It was definitely far from the good and romantic environment and not an efficient way to lift her mood up. Pushing her into the cold floor wouldn’t work for his benefit. So instead of laying her down, he did quite the opposite picking her up in his arms and carrying her towards the bed. “I’m gonna treat you right, Y/N.” his lips came back onto hers, slowly moving down, making her shudder in anticipation. “Fuck, you always make me want you. So bad, baby. So fucking bad….”

“Even with my gross look?”

“Shut up.” His voice became dark and that commanding tone made her pussy throb and ache for him. God, that was truly pathetic how needy and craving she was of his touch. Another side effect of all those pills. “You will shut up and do exactly what I tell you. Nod If you understand.” She nodded too overwhelmed with his body over hers. “Good. Now. You are way too overdressed for my liking, so how about we get rid of those layers?” one move of hand and her sleeping T-shit was gone “much better” he grinned, massaging those perfect, plump breast that came on full display “Mm, I love playing with your tits. All mine for the taking, aren’t they?“

“Jace….” She whined “more, please’ her back arched involuntarily, hips moving up, making it easier for him to pull down her pants. “tell me how you want me…. I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

“That would be first, you tease.” He scoffed remembering all those times she acted like a brat during their lovemaking.

“I’m begging you. I want you too, baby. So bad. So, so bad.” She clawed on his back, getting irritated by the thick layer of his jacket and Red Hood suit “take it off.” Even that desperate tugging on the material did nothing to remove it, since his hands were still on her body, touching every inch of her skin. “I need to feel your skin on mine. Please, Jay….”

“I never said I’ll be good, hm? You pledged that, baby. So give me a reason to listen to you now.”

“Reason?” she moaned feeling his lips kissing under her breast, avoiding the most sensitive part of them, even if her nipples needed his attention as well. It was pure torture and all she could do was hope for the sweet release after. “I’ll give you a reason, damn it!” She wrapped legs around him, still in his clothes and pressed her whole body into him, grinding lightly to create any friction, hands on his face, kissing him with all the passion she had. Which was a lot.

Oh, he was getting hard due to her action, and his groans gave him away. Knowing his impatience and look of pleasure appearing on his face she knew it was a good way to convince him “Come on, baby.” She panted into his ear, hands running through his hair. “You said it yourself, you want me. You want to get home, right? Remember how good it feels? Warm and tight and nice and …..” she moved underneath him even more and finally pushed him past the last line of self-control.

“Ah! Fuck!” he hissed letting go of her body beneath him and tossing the jacket away. “You do act like a brat.” Piece by piece his body armor followed the jacket and more and more of his skin started to show. Fuck he was so perfect.

“But you like it, don’t you…” she smirked, finally able to get hands on his chest and abs, feeling the muscles and warmth of his body. It was so good and so familiar, tracing patterns there, causing his body to flex under her touch, leaving goosebumps everywhere she caressed him.

“Not tonight. I told you. Tonight, you will listen to me. I don’t care if you like it or not.”

“Show me who’s the boss then.” She whispered and fuck, did that turn him on, pants getting uncomfortably tight “someone’s excited?”

“Still talking?” he mocked “I’ll remedy that. I’ll make a mess out of you….” and with such words he dived between her tights finding that one spot that made her moan and writhe and scream his name with panted breath. He knew her body so well it was actually embarrassing. He could have her coming in minutes.

“Jason!” she cried, tears brimming in her eyes “Jace!”

“Keep saying my name” he commanded. “Just keep on doing that. This will remind you that you’re place in under me. Never dominating.”

“I don’t…..” she cried again but before she finished the sentence he pulled back, leaving her high and dry “Jason?” Y/n looked up at his slightly annoyed face.

“Why are you testing my patience, baby?” he grabbed her chin lightly and connected their foreheads. “I’m trying to make you feel good here and you just keep resisting. Do you want to be left high and dry?”

“I got toys, you know….”

“Are. Those. As. Good. As. Me?” he punctuated each word with another short brush of his hardness on her pussy “Can you look me in the eyes and say that?”

“No. No, no. I can’t. Those could never… ah, compare.”

“Than what do you want, love, huh?’ he moved closer and harder to tease her more.

“I want you inside me. I want you to take control. I want you to take me. Now.”

“And what do we say at the end of such sentence?”

“Please….”  

“That’s my good girl.” In a blink of an eye his pants were gone and with how wet she was for him he slid inside her in one fluent movement, bottoming out instantly, stretching her and filling fully. “Isn’t it good?”

“ Yes, Yes, Jason, so good.”

“It’s gonna get better.” He grabbed her legs and put them around his waist, changing the angle and going deeper inside her.

“Stop bragging and just move for fuck’s sake!”

At first he wanted to pull out and leave her. She did not listen to him, again. However, all his self-restraint and self-control started to leave him the second their bodies became one, joint, together. It was not about teasing her or being mean. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, it was just a tad harder to admit it, since he was let down by people in the past. Trust and love and being in need of someone was still something he was learning. But with her? With her, he felt safe. Safe enough to get himself lost in her.

“Fuck. I love you.” he pulled back slightly just to pull back in. And again and again. Each trust faster, harder, stronger, getting them both closer to orgasm. “You’re mine. And I’m yours.  Forever.”

“Yes! Yes!” her nails dig into his back. It was so good. He was so good with pleasuring her. “You are Jason. You are mine and I….ah! So close. Don’t stop.”

“Never. Let go for me babygirl. Now. Let me feel you.”

“Jason!” she screamed loud enough so that neighbors would judge her in the morning and came hard, with literal stars exploding in front of her eyes and he followed equally hard, right after. In fact  took a few minutes for them to ride those highs down and get their breathing and heartbeat back to normal.

“That was….” She started when he pulled out and hugged her close to his chest. “Wow. I don’t think we ever….So intense.”

“ You know I would give you everything, right?’ he looked straight at her. “All I’ve got. Everything.”

“If only I could say the same”  she thought to herself, tighter wrapping arms around him.

*** 

“What the fuck happened?” he almost kicked the door to the hospital reception room. Half an hour ago he received a very disturbing call from Tim, who with shaky voice informed him, that Y/N had some sort of faint-like accident and were taken to the hospital.

“Would you calm down, Jason?”

“How the fuck do you expect me to calm down?! I got questions that someone needs to answer right now or the head will roll and blood will be spilled…..”

“He’s joking.” Tim grinned at one of nurses, who were already picking up the phone, most probably to call security “Just worried about his girl and acting emotional.” The nurse just put it down and walked away as fast as she could have not saying a single word “Calm down, you idiot or I’ll kick your ass.”

“Ha! Good luck with that. It will be the other way round if you don’t tell me where is she? How is she? Why didn’t she call me? Why…. Why did she came with you?”

“ She did not. She actually came alone, but I was listening the police frequency again and they reported someone being taken from some accident.”

“She was in an accident?! I’m gonna kill…..”

“She was not in an accident.”

“….you, Drake. I’m gonna kill you. TALK!” Jason almost grabbed Tim by the collar and almost pressed him to wall, but stopped himself at the last second, his hands itching.

“They were talking about casualties and some of the officers mentioned something about it being the hard day not only for them, but also for the girl next door who was having a meat wagon outside her house. It was happening in Y/N’s area so I just connected the dots and came here. And then I called you.”

Jason sighed deeply.

“Do you know something more? What happened? Why did it happen? Anything?”

“Not yet.  Her doctor told me to wait.” To be honest Tim wasn’t surprised by his brother behavior at all. He would act exactly the same if something were to happen to Bernard. “It’s going to be alright.” He reassured Jason.

“You don’t know that.”

“I… I don’t, but she’s strong. She’s a fighter.”

“Tim. Stop. She’s fragile. She’s delicate. And she’s my one and only. I…. I can’t lose her.”

“You won’t. She would never make it easy on you and leave this way. Not to the one to get rid off this way.”

“Mr. Todd?” one of the nurses emerged from behind the door “You came with miss Y/L/N, right?”

“I did.”

“I can tell you that…..” she started but stopped in the middle of the sentence eyeing Jason who looked like he just came back from hell (which was truly not so far from reality) “and who may you be?” her tone changed into defensive.

“He’s the boyfriend!” Tim cut in, before his brother started causing drama. “He’s worried about her too. Is she alright?”

“Boyfriend, huh?” the nurse scoffed and crossed her arms “I strongly recommend you to behave and take responsibility, young man. She’s in this state because of you.”

“What…. what state?” Jason stuttered

“She can tell you herself, mister. You can go and talk to her. And I got my eyes on you.” she pointed two fingers towards her eyes and then at him, and damn that made him shake and start creating scenarios in his head. Was it that serious? He knew it was probably his fault, since he did not protect her from whatever danger got to her, but still….

“Come on, big guy, move!” Tim pushed him through the door to the padded room where Y/N was laying in the hospital bed. Pale and tired, but with the lightest smile on her face.

“Hi boys.” She greeted both of them, Tim standing back and raising his hand in greeting, Jason rushing to her side, almost ramming the doctor, grabbing her hands and scanning her face, begging for explanation with his eyes since words failed him.

“We’re good here miss Y/N?” the MD made sure it was safe to leave her with those two strangely looking men.

“Sure, doctor. I’ll be fine with them. I’m sure.”

“All right.  I’ll have the prescription ready for you and remember what we talked about. A lot is about to change, dear. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you, doctor.” She smiled a bit and he left.

“Happy for you?” Jason frowned “Correct me if I’m wrong but you’re in a hospital. Since when is that a reason to be happy?”

“Y/N” Tim smiled, detective instincts kicking in “Are you…?”

“SHSH! Quiet, Tim! Let him figure this out by himself!”

“Figure what out?”

“’Jason. don’t freak out…” Y/N took his hand in hers and slowly, gently, lead it onto her belly, keeping it there. Then it dawned on him.

“Are you….” he gulped “pregnant?”

“I am….” Tears started falling from her eyes

“With my kid?” Jason stuttered, the reality slowly catching him up. Y/n was pregnant. His girl was pregnant! He was going to have a kid!

“And whose else you dumbass?!” Tim could not hold back a comment on Y/N behalf and she smiled at him in silent thanks that she didn’t have to be the one to roar Jason up.

“We’re going to have a kid. I’m going to be a dad.”

“Are you happy?” she asked quietly

“Am I….? Fuck, I’m the happiest man in the universe. And it’s all thanks to you. I’m gonna take care of everything, I promise. You won’t have to lift a finger. Do we know if it’s a boy or a girl? Is he or she all right? Healthy? Do you need any special meds to keep yourself safe and healthy during the pregnancy? What furniture do we need? Or toys? Do you think a giant teddy bear would be ok?”

“Jason” she cupped his cheek and giggled a bit “Calm down, it’s only the beginning .We can handle everything one step at time baby.”

“And I’ll be with you every step of the way. And later.” He raised her hands and kissed her knuckles “I love you, baby. You and the kid.”

“Do you want me to….” a soft voice came from behind

“GET OUT DRAKE! I’m talking to the mother of my child!”

“It’s gonna be nine long months…” Tim muttered walking out the door and rubbing his forehead knowing well enough that during that term Jason will be more annoying and abnormal than usual.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Please anything bestfriend! Or loser! Luke w and Aphrodite!reader!!!!!!

Warnings: not much, kinda short, lmk if it doesn't satisfy anon, sorry it took so long I had to do a really hard math problem for ekko, too many/not enough commas, Luke is a lameo and r spends a lot of time with doves, I know zero Percy Jackson lore I read the wiki fandom article on Aphrodite kids and just used that, also I took like five quizzes and three said I was an Aphrodite kid so like I'm hot guys, enjoy

In the nicest way, Luke was a total fucking loser. He was too busy practicing sword fighting to actually ask anyone out or even get asked out. Luke hadn't even held hands with someone romantically. That didn't stop him from having crushes. He crushed on an Athena kid two years ago and confessed his feelings. That kid laughed in his face and rejected him. The next thing he knew a group of doves was pulling at the kids hair, scratching at their face. They flung their arms up trying to run the doves away. When Luke looked over he saw a small crowd of Aphrodite kids. One stood out to him. You. Something about the air around you seemed intoxicating. You looked him up and down before giving him a nod and walking off with your siblings following behind you. Your one interaction sparked his crush. He's been head over inheels since then.

You two rarely interacted over the years. Luke was just some guy and you were, well, you. Luke tried his hardest not to stare at you anytime he saw you but it was hard. Anytime you were at the lake there was sea foam gently swaying around your ankles in the water, and the amount of seashells around you seemed to increase the longer you spent at the shore. If you were excited and you were practically skipping to your siblings and friends, flowers would bloom around your feet with each step. You would spend your free time sitting on the front checked deck with your siblings. Usually you'd call a dove over you'd all fawn over it, giving it kisses on its head, lots of pets and snacks you'd crumble up. And he...liked swords? How is Luke supposed to get the courage to talk to you much less ask you out?

It wasn't as one sided as Luke assumed. You had your eye on him long before you stepped in on his confession two years ago. You thought Luke was cute. You loved how into his fighting he would get. You thought it was adorable the way he'd scrunch his nose or fiddle with his necklace. You loved a lot about him. Luke was gorgeous and passionate and terribly pathetic. All the best attributes of a man. You just worried about asking him out because you thought he'd think you were tricking him or it was all a big scheme with your siblings.

Luke never asked you out because he was terribly anxious you'd say no. He worried you'd go and tell all your friends and they'd tell their friends and next he'd know it'd be all over camp and he'd be laughing stock. So Luke stuck to just gazing and sighing longingly at you. You always felt his eyes no matter what you were doing and most of the time once you'd find his eyes he'd look away.

So the day you ran up to Luke first thing in the morning, flowers blooming at your feet, Luke almost had a panic attack. You gave him a bright smile and he swore he fell even more in love with you. You said something but he couldn't hear you at all. Luke just stared at you. When your smile started to fall due to his lack of response he finally spoke up. He asked you to repeat yourself.

"do you wanna go out?" Luke froze, which was worse the second time around because now he's stopped talking to you twice in one conversation. You snapped your fingers to get his attention. He startled and ran your words through his head again. Luke quickly nodded his head.

"yes, yeah yeah that'd be good yeah." Your smile returned and clapped your hands together. You gave him a date, time, and where to meet up. Just as quick as you came you left, even more flowers sprouting at your feet. A few doves came down from the sky twirling around you as you ran back to your friends to tell them the spectacular news.

When your date finally rolled around, you were smiling the whole way though. Laughing when Luke did something stupid in an attempt to impress you. Jumping off tall rocks and failing miserably to land on his feet. Picking a flower off the ground and tucking it behind your ear. He climbed up a tree and hung down smiling at you, upside down. You moved closer to him and gently kissed his lips. You pulled back and told him to meet you at the same time next week. Walking away, you heard a large crash. Looking back you saw Luke on his back in the dirt. You called out to him, to make sure you wouldn't be charged with manslaughter. Luke rolled over onto his stomach and smiled at you. You returned it and made your way back to your cabin excited for your next date.

[darkinfinity]

Hi, happy 28th! I decided to join the 28th appreciation, so here are all the fics I read and enjoyed in the past month! Fics are organised by word count :)

🌷Tell me it's the strongest shape by @louandhazaf (E, multi, 73k)

Nick and Elgar have it all. They’re famous, successful, and engaged to be married—and sometimes they play with others.

When uni student Louis gets street cast by Elgar for a GQ photoshoot, he's drawn into Nick and Elgar’s complicated relationship.

They've always invited mates into their bed. It doesn’t ever mean anything. Until… it does.

🌷A crown of heartache by WordsInBloom28 (E, 70k)

The Royal Tail: an alpha den, a strip club, a place where secrets are concealed and consent is medicated. It’s also the place Harry has been trapped for the last three years.

Through luck or fate, Harry finds his way to Louis, a kind alpha who offers safety and comfort. After being freed from the confines of the den, Harry struggles to shake the darkness from his past.

He has a choice to make. Live in a mental prison of his own making or find the strength within himself to face his demons head on with Louis at his side.

🌷In the still of the night by @jacaranda-bloom (E, 68k)

In a society where omegas are expected to follow a predetermined path, Louis strives for more; for his voice to be heard, for recognition, for true love.

In a world where your past defines your future, Harry fights against the system; for equality, for a different life, for acceptance.

When their two worlds collide, will they be beaten down by conformity or will they rise up and forge a new path together?

OR the Dirty Dancing AU where Louis is a feisty omega who wants to change the world, Harry is an alpha from the wrong side of the tracks, and nobody puts Louis in a corner.

🌷Chasing, searching, dreaming by @parmahamlarrie (E, 46k)

Everyone is chasing, searching, dreaming of their soulmate.

Harry has known who his soulmate is since he was twenty years old, and ever since, he has been waiting for Louis to be ready for him. The unexpected passing of Louis' mum, and the fact that now he is the guardian of his twin two-year-old little siblings, just means that Harry is going to have to wait a bit longer.

A soulmate AU full of cute kids, house building, therapy, and a lot of dreaming.

🌷Four, five, finished? by @beanno28 & @lalalaartje (E, multi, 45k)

Now that they've all settled down in their relationship dynamic, Zayn, Harry and Louis agree it's time for the next step. A new phase in their lives, so to speak. They're having a baby! Or well. That's the plan. As usual for the three of them, nothing goes as planned.

Adjustments have to be made, emotions have to be lived through and discussed and all in all, our three boys need to buckle up for the ride and hope to reach their final destination without major figurative car crashes.

🌷A hopeless connection by @parmahamlarrie (E, 34k)

In a world where everyone has a soulmate, what do you do when you don’t have one?

As soon as Louis Tomlinson was born, his Timer, the one that determined when he would meet his soulmate, was already at zero. He’s spent the last twenty-five years of his life looking for that void to be filled with faceless strangers. Can he still find love?

🌷Santa baby honey by @sadaveniren (E, 29k)

“Let’s cut right to the chase,” Niall said, loading the powerpoint, which was just one page, comprised of Louis’ face and the words How do you solve a problem like this asshole? “It’s the beginning of November and Louis is already being a fuckwit. How are we gonna have him knock that shit off this year?”

aka Louis is the CEO of a toy company and Christmas is a stressful time of year so his assistant decides the best way to make him chill out is by getting him laid through a Secret Santa

🌷Thespian sweetheart by orchidsinnewyork (16k)

Harry definitely was not. He’d stopped listening.

Across the room, someone had caught his eye. 

The stranger’s light brown hair fell into wisps, framing his mask. His cheekbones could be seen even with half his face covered, and his slender fingers were brushing along the buttons of his coat. He was smiling even though he had no one in company. He seemed to glow as he stood under a chandelier, the fragments of glass reflecting bursts of light onto his frame.

Harry had never seen someone like that before. He’d been staring for too long, completely ignoring Count Paris as his gaze focused on the stranger. And he hadn’t realised it until the stranger turned his head, and their eyes met.

Harry saw his lips part, and curled into a small smile as he removed his mask. Staring back at Harry were a pair of brilliant blue eyes, twinkling at him like twin stars. The stranger winked at him, and his head felt giddy. 

~

Uni AU where Harry participates in a Theatre production, and is supposed to perform a stage kiss that winds up becoming quite real. Featuring awkward encounters, insane dreams, OT5 and peanut butter.

🌷I'll look after you by @elmeiko88 (M, 15k)

I mean, when Harry inherited his late uncle's hybrid, he didn't necessarily expect this...

Where Louis is a nice hybrid cat who's never lived with anyone but an old man, and who discovers the freedom of living with Harry...

🌷I dig your cinema by @silverstuff50 (E, 13k)

It wasn’t that Louis didn’t want to see Harry’s latest film; it was a tragically pathetic fact that Louis had watched every single show and film, every interview, every red carpet that Harry had done since his ex-boyfriend had decided to leave Uni in the second year and pursue an acting career.

It's just that he wanted to watch it on his own, in his flat, with a soft blanket, beer, ice cream, and a large box of tissues.

🌷licking sugar off taboos, we pour wild honey and wine over the walls by @larentslovebot (E, 10k)

Louis Tomlinson is a big name in the industry. A lyrical mastermind, who does not appear in public and dedicates his existence to music. Deciding to find aspiring musicians for his label, he expected to tutor young talents and make them the next heads of show business. What he didn't expect was to meet Harry Styles, omega with attitude and a captivating scent.

🌷Woke up feeling knotty by @jaerie (E, 8k)

Beta Louis has a kink for knotting and the secret aesthetic porn blog he runs about it is more than proof. When he accidentally finds out his alpha best friend Harry is one of his biggest fans, he knows he has to come clean after everything that has already happened between them. Harry just might be willing to help him out anyway.

🌷I'll keep you warm by @parmahamlarrie (T, 6k)

Louis is the kind of guy who keeps his head down and minds his own business. He’s lived on the same street for years and barely would recognize the buildings, let alone his neighbours. That’s all about to change however, due to a broken key and an unexpected snow storm.

🌷Pretty and preposterous by @brightlyharry (5k)

Harry donates a copy of Pride and Prejudice to his little free library. He never expects what comes next.

🌷What the silence said by @larrysballetslippers (E, 3k)

“Our lives were just beginning, our favourite moment was right now, our favourite songs were unwritten. ‘Love is a mixtape’, Rob Sheffield.”

Or, Louis has tried to ask Harry, the quiet and cute librarian at his local library, out for some time. He never expected that quoting Harry's favourite books work so well for him. A very silent Valentine's day fic.

[angelsdean]

Reading the script from 13x02 and it opens with Dean, Sam, and Jack in the Impala driving through the night and eventually stopping at a motel where Donatello catches up to them and reveals that yesterday he was "knocked off [his] feet by this weird wave of power" which was Jack's birth. We know Jack was born at night/early morning, and it's night/early morning again, which means it's literally been a mere 24 hrs at most since Cas died, and the drive that this episode opens with, yeah they're literally just leaving from burning Cas's body. Dean not being immediately warm and fuzzy toward Jack is so understandable, especially since they literally do not know anything about him, other than he's an incredibly powerful supernatural being that they spent all last season trying to stop from existing because of the potential threat his existence could cause on the world.

And the way s12 ends, Jack was positioned to be the next Big Bad from that cliffhanger.

(12x23 script)

Dean also believes Jack brainwashed Cas to get him on-side. He has no reason to trust Jack. And Sam is only really thinking about what Jack can do for him, aka get Mary back. So Sam immediately starts playing nice to get Jack on-side and willing to work with them. Sam also inserts himself into the situation, trying to force Dean and Jack to bond, and this happens again in 13x04 and both Dean and Jack express that they need time.

Dean might be harsh toward Jack and not have a Nice Tone when speaking to him in these early episodes, but he's being brutally honest about his feelings, instead of lying and pretending like Sam. Which Jack values Dean's honesty and is hurt by Sam's dishonesty when it comes to light.

The scripts also make a point to highlight how Jack is not a kid, he's in his twenties. And uses words like "demi-god" in later episodes to distinguish his status as an ultra-powerful supernatural being. Jack is naive and new to the world, sure, but he's not helpless and certainly not powerless. If we want to talk power imbalances than the true imbalance is not Mean Adult Dean not instantly loving Poor Baby Jack and it's not Mean Adult Dean shooting a gun at Literal Newborn Jack. This is a supernatural fantasy show, not a family drama. The genre is important. The true power imbalance here is mortal human man with zero powers vs supernatural being with immense powers. And moreso, a supernatural being with uncontrollable immense powers. They don't know what he could do! They have no way of stopping him if he decides to "go darkside" and just end the world! That's scary. And Sam even explains this to Jack, saying that Dean is scared of what Jack could do and it's their job to protect people, and that they may have to protect others "from you" (Jack). This scene is also another moment where Sam tries to convince Jack that he just needs to work on his powers and train to control them (and also so Sam can use Jack to get Mary back, his top priority).

Anyway, point is, Dean isn't wrong to be skeptical of Jack and on guard and keep him at a distance in those early days, and that's not even accounting for all the grief. It's literally been less than a day since Cas died and they lost Mary (and Crowley). He just burned Cas's body. So him talking about dealing with "the problem" and not immediately adopting Jack into the fold is a pretty normal response, given the context of everything.

I think often people also take the "widowers arc" John parallels too seriously. It's an interesting parallel but it's far from being a 1:1, the context are completely different. Yes, Dean just lost his love. Yes, Dean is now left with a "kid" in the wake of Cas's death. But Dean never claimed Jack as his own. Jack saying Cas is his "father" could be another manipulation tactic to ensure his survival for all Dean knows. Cas isn't there anymore to vouch for Jack, and even when he was there Dean was rightfully skeptical about Cas's sudden change of heart. A change of heart that suddenly had Cas believing in the possibility of "paradise" and "peace on earth" and fulfilling "destiny", all things that go against the core beliefs of Team Free Will who have been fighting for Freedom over Peace. So Dean has no connection to Jack and he doesn't trust Jack's alleged connection to Cas at this moment. He doesn't know Cas will come back. Cas's death felt permanent to Dean. He saw Cas's grace go out, saw his wings burn. He burned Cas's body. He prayed to Chuck and got no answer. There's no coming back in Dean's mind and he's dealing with all that intense grief while also having to contend with the potential threat of this supernatural being that has come into their lives and is literally a stranger to him.

Also Dean's "anger" and harshness, like I've said, is in part because he doesn't trust Jack and is putting up walls because he doesn't want to trust him and then get burned. Dean's always putting his heart into things, he always ends up caring, he can't help it. So in this case he's guarding his heart, he's leaning into his skepticism and suspicions. He's staying on the defensive. But also, anger is a normal and natural step in the grieving process. Yeah, Dean's immense grief over losing Cas, Mary, and even Crowley is not pretty. It's real though. And it's not an over-reaction. I think Dean is reacting the appropriate amount considering all they've lost. Sam under-reacting and dissociating and clinging to the hope of getting Mary back isn't the "baseline normal" emotional reaction. Sam is not coping well either. He's not coping at all, actually, and is instead refusing to really acknowledge these losses.

Anyway, I find many comparisons to John re: widower's arc leaving me cold these days, because they often disregard how completely different the contexts of the two situations are, and instead try to force-fit Dean and Jack into a John and his kids mold. Dean isn't becoming "the angry man of the house." He's grieving and he's skeptical of a near-stranger's intentions. Another way in which Dean and John differ greatly in their responses to grief is: John becomes consumed by revenge and springs into action (just like Sam when he lost Jess) but Dean? Dean shuts down. Dean loses hope. Dean ends up killing himself and wishing to stay dead. (Also, I know not everyone agrees with this interpretation, but: see Dean's response post-15x18. Jensen describes Dean's death as Dean being "tired" and letting go (sounds a whole lot like suicide to me). Dean always loses hope when Cas dies).

As the audience, we have the gift of omniscience and we are also able to look into the future now that the show is done. We know Jack doesn't become the second coming of Lucifer, but Dean doesn't know any of that at the time. Dean, in-world, is dealing with the very real possibility that Jack could become their next antagonist and all his actions in the early days following Jack's introduction are informed by that lingering threat.

[dufrau]

just had a post pop up recommended with tags like "this is not anti nancy but she should be held accountable for her selfishness more" and im like... what selfishness exactly? like, sincerely, within the canon, what has she done that was selfish?

the only thing i can think of is that once when she was like 15 she invited her friend to a party and then decided to get laid and her friend was then eaten by a monster she had absolutely less than zero reason to believe existed in their town that was so safe Hopper says nobody has even gone missing there since 1923.

she broke up with steve? breaking up with somebody isnt selfish! if you arent happy in a relationship breaking up with somebody is good, actually!

she stood up for herself at her job instead of just dealing with it which is a problem because jonathan also works there and he's poor so she should... what exactly? like please explain what you think she should have done in this situation. there's a whole new mall at this point, also, btw. so there are probably actually plenty of jobs available for high school kids even if they do get fired from the paper. and anyway jonathan DOES call her out for this (despite the fact that he went along with her of his own volition), so if somehow you really do think she did something wrong here she was "held accountable" for it. (he also called her out in season one for the sin of wanting to date a cute boy, so in addition to her friend DYING as a result of that grave selfishness she also was directly called out for it!)

and robin is supposed to hate her and think she's selfish because she "broke steve's heart" even though like a half hour after hearing that she personally witnesses nancy putting herself bodily in the way of a speeding car to try to protect a bunch of kids and then they all take part in the same battle against this giant flesh monster during which they all risk their lives over and over and over. but robin is supposed to perceive her as "selfish" because steve, who does not hold a grudge against her himself even! said she broke his heart.

i just truly do not understand some people's readings of this character. i dare you to look at nancy wheeler for who she actually is and what she wants and not just through the lens of "she made a boy sad though".