please be safe

Belle/Adam and children

alternative title: I Can’t Believe My First Proper Contribution To A Fandom After So Many Years Is Fucking Disney Headcanons

also, this got really out of hand. still.. enjoy?

- Belle doesn’t want to have children for another ten years, and that makes everyone, literally everyone in the village Upset™ (bc nothing, even a thought goes unnoticed in a village, apparently) [okay, her father isn’t upset, but he doesn’t really get it either]

-  Adam does want to have children, but he understands Belle and respects her wish – he thinks she’ll make a marvellous mother (he’s seen her plenty around children) once she’s ready

- and besides, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to give his children all the love he wants to give them; he’s not afraid of turning into his father anymore, now that he has Belle, but he’s terrified of not being enough

- Belle figures that out after a while, and even though it breaks her heart, it also makes her even more determined to show him just how happy he makes her, their friends, their people

- (on that note, Adam definitely has a praise kink)

- (but he enjoys praising Belle - and watching her reaction - as well? basically their communication during sex is A+, 10/10, would recommend)

-  but anyway, as effective contraception was basically non-existent as a term back then, and despite their being bright and well-read and everything (Belle a genius, even), there isn’t a solution they could come up with that would really work

-  (besides not having sex at all, obviously, but knowing themselves that’s so impossible/ridiculous a thought they don’t even say it out loud, just dismiss it for good)

- so Belle ends up visiting the Enchantress, despite their shared mistrust

-  ..and they have this amazingly thorough and comforting talk; by the end of it Belle is visibly more open and more forgiving

-  the Enchantress gives Belle the herbal+magical equivalent of a birth control pill basically, and they part on relatively good terms

-  but now Belle just wants to have sex all the time, which is really adorable/very hard to resist if you ask Adam

-  of course he knows she’s done something, and as Belle won’t tell him what’s this sudden, miraculous ’solution’, he can’t help but worry

-  she gets so annoyed she just kind of blurts it out one morning, and immediately regrets it

-  Adam goes from mildly worried to full-on panicking in about two minutes; he isn’t loud or dramatic for once – he becomes uncharacteristically quiet, and he looks so, so lost and afraid

-  Belle tries to convince him that it’s fine, everything is fine and the Enchantress wouldn’t have a ’reason’ to curse him/them this time – but it sounds really half-hearted the more desperate and guilty she becomes (he’s looking at her with big blue eyes, and when she moves to draw him into her arms, he’s shaking, holding onto her as if someone was to take her away if he let her go)

- that night, he kisses her, stroking her back as if she was the porcelain doll she very much isn’t, and refuses to do anything else – he doesn’t sleep a wink, either

- the next day there are as many as six physicians in the castle, and Belle huffs and grits her teeth in annoyance, but lets them examine her, looking for any physical sign of a curse

- they don’t find anything, and Belle nearly cries at Adam’s joyous, relieved expression when she tells him

- weeks pass, and although they are still just as affectionate as before, there’s this hesitation, unsureness between them that Belle hates more than anything – she can see Adam doesn’t like it, either

- she decides she’s had enough after a month of this, takes a deep breath, and tells Adam she’s ready to have children after all, they needn’t be that careful

- Adam knows it’s not entirely untrue, but also sees that stubbornly set jaw, that brave, upturned face, and decides to visit the Enchantress himself

- he comes back only slightly less terrified, but he kisses her palm and folds her fingers around the small vial, and Belle feels his trust heavy and sweet in that palm as he leans down to kiss her properly

- things grow.. easier in the next few years, between them and the Enchantress

- however, it’s not until the birth of their first child, healthy and perfect, that the last traces of worry fade from Adam’s eyes

- he still insists on co-sleeping with the baby (at least until Belle has recovered), and Belle, utterly in love with the child and now feeling confident enough to be a parent her mother would be proud of, agrees

Feeling so awful nowadays AND very busy, don’t really wanna be on tumblr and not even SHEITH could help, but this blog needs me, and you, all sheith shippers and VLD fandom, I always hope you’ll overcome your problems and always have a great day!

Some part of this fandom is shitty sometimes (or always?) but don’t be discouraged! Fandom meant to be a fun place and people who says otherwise aren’t even worth your time. At all.

Sorry for blabbering lol but like I always say: have a great day for all of you! You all deserve to be happy and loved! Stay strong! You can do it!

anonymous asked:

I'm sorry to bother you, but do things really get better? I'm 16 right now and everything I know is sadness and exhaustion and anger and then I talk to my parents and they just complain about adult life... is it worth it to go on?

oh gosh, i promise, it’s worth waiting, buddy. i know there are a lot of people who say, oh it gets better. and it does in some ways, but what it really gets is different. the people who are angry and mean and horrible often stay that way. the people who cut you off or who flip you off or who piss you off often are the same people at 16 as at 26. 

i think i hated people telling me “it gets better” because what could get better about being a mentally ill queer cuban girl in a world that wanted to eat me. i got spat out. my writing isn’t published because i’ve been rejected so many times i don’t even notice anymore. i was told a few times “make it less obviously homosexual”. what is going to get better about that, i said to myself. the memory of it will never be a nice one.

things got different slowly. like i didn’t realize until i was far on the other side of it. i wasn’t kidding in that last post when i said today i read my writing at 15 and it was painfully obvious how depressed i was. i didn’t have a diagnosis. like you, all i knew was that i was exhausted and angry and sad all the time and when i talked about it, i was told “everyone feels that way sometimes.” i felt that way all the time. in this story, i don’t suddenly wake up after turning 18 and have a magical life where it is all bunnies and flowers and loving. it took me 3 years of trying before i finally managed to quit self-harm completely. my eating disorder and i are still not on speaking terms, luckily. i’m slowly getting a handle on my ocd. i didn’t realize that the biggest thing that was changing was me.

yeah. being out of the house made it easier. away from where people knew me as a certain person. being someone new or being who i was or being in a room full of people who didn’t care how gay i was. being in control made it better. finding real and true friends made it better. being able to make my own plans and choose my own story and do more than just wait until i was old enough to be taken seriously - it got better.

but honestly it’s me. i learned how to shake hands with depression, he and i are such good old buddies i sometimes see him before he’s even coming. and i’ve gotten so good at getting out of his embrace, because practice makes perfect, same as anything. and i’ve learned things about myself i had no idea about at 16. i didn’t even realize i’m funny. i had never been skinny dipping. my only kiss had been sort of an accident. there was a lot i cared about then that i don’t care about now, because in my new world outside of that, the people i surround myself with don’t care either. i’ve worn a dinosaur onesie pajama set to eight parties now when 19 year old me wouldn’t be seen without her makeup. i wear glasses in public even though i’m nervous they make me look like a bug. i have tattoos and new piercings and a bank account (and no money) and i have love. and i don’t mean with a partner, although i’m blessed enough to say i have that as well - i mean. i just found it. i taught myself how to look for it. i figured - listen, i’m here still, so i might as well, like, try to enjoy it. and it wasn’t overnight. it still goes away sometimes. but i love so much and so easily now. i laugh more because of it. i let myself love dogs and movies and silly things. and this love sort of … makes things better. because it reflects off of everything into you. like a mirror.

at sixteen… at sixteen i was very suicidal. i didn’t know that it applied to me, because i thought i was just annoying and lazy. looking back now i always pull a face at how obvious it was, and how close i got to walking myself into a grave. it was more than a close call. death, like, waved. i actually believed i wouldn’t make it past 18. what was the point? what was the point of anything? i think if i’d told myself then, “it gets better”, i would have laughed. “maybe for you!” i would have said, “you have money and a life and you’re not like this.” but it did get better. in inches. stick around to see it. stick around to see everything wonderful that’s waiting in the wings for you. that knows your name. a fate of beautiful moments that are small and precious, like butterflies landing on fingers or snowflakes on tongues, or just sitting with a good book during the rainfall. hell, stick around to write the book, because (trust me), if you believe in your art and yourself - it can be done.

stick around most of all because what gets better is you fall in love with yourself. the world doesn’t become suddenly sickeningly sweet, even if the people around you become better and you’re given more opportunity. that’s wonderful too but… what happens is that over time, the stuff they told you stops sticking. you realize that just because your nose is crooked it doesn’t even matter because it doesn’t stop you from being the best dang ping pong player in your family. you realize you have a family, even if they’re not blood. you realize you are your own family. and you learn to take care of yourself and yes, it gets ugly at times, but you manage. and inside of managing there’s all these wonderful successes like mac and cheese and getting the bills done and the smell of clean laundry and friends that make you laugh so hard you almost pee and an apartment with plants in every corner and a hairless cat in sweaters or a dog with a bowtie or both and watching movies and reading books and seeing art, all of which haven’t been created yet, and possibly you’re the one who makes them. and managing … managing doesn’t have to be big. sometimes it’s just making a small difference. and sometimes the person you make a difference to is yourself. and that’s amazing.

stick around because, trust me, somewhere in there, you meet your younger self in your dreams and you tell her - oh gosh, i promise, it’s worth waiting, buddy.