sixteen months old

Healing Kisses

Character(s): Dean Winchester

Warnings: None

Word Count: Unknown

A/N: This is just a short thing I whipped up on my phone a while back. I thought I should probably post it because Dean no longer has the Mark.

Fic:

“Oo-boo?” The baby points jerkily at where Dean is rubbing the Mark on his arm. She means to say ‘boo-boo’, but at just sixteen months old, she has difficulty pronouncing most words in their entirety.

“Yeah.” Dean replies sullenly. “Boo-boo.”

(y/n), the little girl’s mother, does a stereotypical mother thing where she plants a kiss on her daughter’s 'boo-boo’ spots. Be it a minor scratch, a bumped head, or a pinched finger, (y/n) always kisses the affected area. It’s the cure-all treatment, and Dean has begun to do it a little as well.

Reacting based on what she’s experienced, the baby takes a wobbly step over to her father’s arm and insistently pulls his left hand away. Once she’s got the curse mark exposed, she bends down and kisses it for a few seconds before straightening up again.

“Good?” She inquires.

Dean smiles just a little and meets his daughter’s questioning gaze.

“Yeah.” He replies. “Good.”

I am an emotional mess and here’s part of why

All right guys, with apologies in advance, I’m about to get real for a minute here, because The Echo Tree had a serious effect on me and I need to talk a little bit about why it’s so important.  This is kind of an embarrassing story, so bear with me.

When I was in high school–the last day of my sophomore year, in fact, which would have made me about a month past sixteen years old–a guy that I hung out with in Spanish class told me that he’d had a crush on me in middle school, and that in fact he still did.  Now, I’ll confess, I wasn’t particularly attracted or interested in him; he was cute enough, though, and we had fun messing around before and after class.  More importantly, though, he was interested.  In me.

Now, the thing is, I have truly, astonishingly low self-esteem.  I mean to this day, in the here and now, even after a lot of work, it’s still amazingly low, but in high school?  Forget it.  I was unattractive, dorky, overly clingy, undesirable.  Whether or not those things were true is irrelevant–that was my unshakable impression of myself.  I followed everyone’s advice: fake it ‘til you make it, keep pretending that you think well of yourself and eventually you’ll believe it.  To all intents and purposes, I put on a pretty good show.  But this was the first time a boy had ever actually liked me, and there was a persistent voice in the back of my head whispering, what if this is your only chance, what if this is the best that you can do, what if this is your only chance for a relationship of any kind?

Like I said: it’s an embarrassing story.  I was really young, and very afraid of being alone, and certain that truly happy endings were probably for other people.

I agreed to go out with him on the last day of school–side note psa: if you ask someone to “go out,” you should be referring to an actual date and not a relationship, because that phrasing is confusing as shit, okay–spoke to him once on the phone, and then didn’t hear from him for most of the summer.  When he finally called back, having been away on vacation (really?  no idea; I never found out), he asked if I’d missed him, and I, both trying to be coy and not wanting to outright lie, tried flirtatiously saying that well, maybe I had.

Maybe?”  He’d sounded both incredulous and condescending at the same time.  “Me, the only guy who likes you?”

I said I had to go and hung up as soon as I got my brain working again.  When he called back again, I told my mom to tell him I wasn’t there.  I didn’t even want to entertain the thought of talking to him again, because I might have thought poorly of myself but how fucking dare he?

And yet, there was still that voice in the back of my head whispering, you’ve blown it, you could’ve given him another chance, do you really think that you’re too good for him, who else is ever going to want you?

It meant the world to me when, last Thursday, one of my favorite characters stood in front of a man trying to win her affections by tearing down her self-worth, and she shot him in response.  That was good.  That was great, and necessary, and I literally cheered when it happened.

But the thing that’s really stuck with me all week is the way that everybody stood behind her.  As Laura doubted herself, as she worried that she’d made the wrong choice, she had an entire roomful of friends united in telling her, no, anyone who tries to treat you that way is an asshole, you did exactly the right thing.  And god, I hope that every young girl watching–every person, really, but I remember myself at just barely sixteen and this wish goes out to young girls in particular–I hope every single one saw that episode heard that forceful denial and felt it down to their bones.  I hope that it becomes a part of them, that it helps to forge the steel in their spines and the fierce, unwavering certainty that they deserve better, that whether the voice comes from someone else or from inside themselves, it is spouting complete and utter bullshit.

So to the cast of Critical Role, though you will never actually see this: thank you, from both my sixteen-year-old self and the me that I am now.  Thank you for giving me that moment, for showing that even someone as strong as Vex can nearly fall to self-doubt, and for the ringing consensus of voices drowning out the negative.

trxgiic-deactivated20170221  asked:

Parent AU fluff with imayoshi and fem s/o please !!

You couldn’t remember the last time either you or Shouichi had a good night’s sleep since the two of you had become parents.


It was like the baby was built to always wake up and start crying in the middle of the night, so by the time either parent successfully nudged the other out of bed and the baby calmed down, the sun was up and there was no point going back to sleep.

It wasn’t any different this morning, when the familiar wailing came over the baby monitor and you kicked at Shouichi’s legs until he mumbled something like “’s your turn” and his weight left the bed and you heard his shuffling footsteps out of the room to the nursery.


You were on the verge of drifting back to sleep when the sound of footsteps informed you that Shouichi was back, but you were unprepared when a slightly heavier weight than before thumped down on the bed.

Happy gurgling forced you to crack your eyes open at the sight of your sixteen-month-old daughter flopped by your pillow, chubby hands reaching for you excitedly. A smile spread across your face and you pulled her closer, nuzzling the baby’s soft black hair. “Good morning.”

The toddler’s eyes brightened. “Mommy!”


Shouichi was smiling as he crawled back beneath the covers, shifting closer. “Tsubasa looked a little lonely in her crib, so I thought she’d want to see Mom.”

“Or were you just afraid of Dad’s scary face in the mornings?” you teased, pretending to speak to Tsubasa instead. “I know he looks very scary when he’s got his bedhead - all his hair sticking up, like a sea urchin, right?”

Shouichi looked hurt. “Oi, don’t tell her that! What if she associates me with that when she grows up?”

“Well, you do look like one.”


Realising the conversation was about her father’s unruly hair, Tsubasa began to tug curiously at Shouichi’s long black bangs, as if by pulling hard enough all his hair would come off and reveal some majestic prize hidden underneath.

“Hey, now, that’s enough.” Gently Shouichi pried Tsubasa’s wrists away. “Dad’s going to go bald if you keep doing that.”

You stifled an affectionate laugh as Tsubasa pouted. “Sleepy,” she mumbled, eyes fluttering shut and head drooping forwards to smack right into Shouichi’s nose, knocking his glasses askew.

Both of you instinctively grabbed the yawning girl, but Shouichi got to her first and Tsubasa snuggled up into the crook of his arm, burying her face into his chest and fingers clutched into his shirt.

Shouichi chuckled. “Out like a light.”


You smiled and reached out to readjust your husband’s glasses on his face, only for him to shake his head. “She’s going to be asleep for a while, so let’s use the moment to sleep a bit more too, what do you say?”

Well you did still feel kind of tired…and the prospect of sleep was way too tempting. Plucking off Shouichi’s glasses for him and setting them on the table, you got up to switch the lights back off. “Y’know what, let’s just stay in all day today. Don’t go to work, okay?”


There was no response. You looked around. “Shouichi?”

Your husband and your daughter were already fast asleep, sharing the same pillow, looking nearly identical curled up next to each other with their black hair and the way they both slept with one arm under their heads.


Chuckling, you carefully slipped back into the bed, shuffling close and sandwiching the child between the two of you, and closed your eyes, letting sleep overtake you again.

You couldn’t remember the last time either you or Shouichi had a good night’s sleep since the two of you had become parents. Sleeping in the morning, however, was a different matter.

And you were totally fine with that.

Olicity: Unsteady Feet

Anonymous said: Could you pretty pretty please do a fic of Felicity and Oliver trying to teach their son how to walk?

“He should be walking.”

“He’ll walk when he’s ready.”

It was a regular argument in the Queen household, born of frustration and impatience as they waited for their baby son to walk. Felicity was particularly impatient for their baby to start toddling, but Oliver was more patient. When he called her out on him, that she replaced ‘impatient’ with eager, with anxious, and later, with worried.

“Well, he’s sixteen months old, Oliver,” she argued, from her spot on the floor in front of him.

“Felicity, we can’t rush him,” he reasoned.

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