#his youngest kid is very sickly

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

I imagined Regis or Cor or anyone from the Citadel asking Drautos if he knew about the Conqueror going to Galahd, and. Drautos would say no. Because he didn't know.

And for the Insomnians that's reasonable, this happened centuries ago, not everyone is interested in history, for all they know the fleet never made it to the islands.

Except Drautos is pretending to be one of Galahkari. One of the people who hold grudges like it's a national sport and discuss historical events like it's yesterday gossip. Whichever Glaive was nearby to hear this would realise that the Captain is being honest about not knowing - and that he's definitely lying about his past.

Axis did not want to be here. His youngest was sick again and had both him and Librita up for most of the night. Thank the spirits for his wife's ability to work from home. Otherwise one of them would have had to quit their job a long time ago.

He supressed a yawn and did his best to ignore Captain Drautos, who was doing some sword drills not too far away from him. Blearily blinking down at the clipboard in his hands, Axis distantly wondered which style of pildura the Captain would prefer. Gekkan maybe? Certainly not puhna. He shook his head. This was not the time to think about it. If he could get his work done in a timely manner, maybe he would be able to go home sooner and help his wife look after Isoro.

Crouching down to inspect the damage done to the stone wall of the training ground, Axis nearly missed the Lord fucking Marshal himself approaching. Suddenly he was wide awake, tracking the man's movements out od the corner of his eyes, while trying to look like he was still concentrating on his work.

"Titus, a word please," the Marshal said once the Captain had stopped his current moveset.

"Has there been an attack?" There was an undercurrent to that question Axis couldn't place.

"No," the Marshal said and something within Axis relaxed. "Regis, Clarus and I are just curious about something."

By the spirits, Axis had never heard the Marshal say so many words in a row.

Captain Drautos rolled his shoulders and sheathed his sword, stance relaxing. Axis couldn't see his expression, but for someone who often insinuated that the King and his men didn't really care for the Glaive beyond their capabilities to be a meat shield, his everything seemed awefully friendly.

"If this is about Shield Hearts again, the answer is still no."

Axis nearly did a double take. Like, what? What by Pitioss was Shield Hearts? The Marshal honest to the spirits snorted. Axis noted down the need for five new stones for this section of the wall and started to search for non-existant cracks in dirt floor.

"Clarus still hasn't given up on it, but no. Do you know about the diary they found not too long ago?"

"The one that mentions the Conqueror? Hard not to have heard about it."

"We were wondering if you know something about it. Do you Galahdians have any records about it? It would be interesting to know if the Conqueror really made it to Galahd or not."

Now Axis wasn't even pretending to work. What would the Captain say? Would he actually tell this outsider the story? Hopefully not. He chanced a look at the two men. Captain Drautos looked contemplative.

"I'm sorry," he said, and if not for his next words, Axis would have sighed in relief. "I don't know anything about that. This was also the first time I heard about it. And with Galahd's conquest I don't know if any records survived."

"I see. What a pity."

Fuck. The Captain was serious. He was actually serious about this. He did not know. How could he not know? Every Galahkar grew up hearing about the Black Ships, the attempted conquest and the murder of Perses Ulric.

What the fuck?

He scribbled something on his clipboard - he had no idea what - and marched out of the training ground as inconspicuously as possible. He needed to talk to Luche.

[goldustwomun]

pacifier (s.b.)

pairing: sirius black x younger potter! reader

summary: something about your relationship with sirius black had never sit quite right with you, and now that he's back after two years of travelling the world, you're beginning to think that you'll soon find out what'll happens if the two of you finally fall over the edge of whatever precipice you've been teetering close to all these years. anyway, you've got to work with him all summer, so what's the worst that could happen?

warnings: allusions to sex (minors dni!!!), swearing, cocky sirius and like kind of an annoying younger sister reader (but also that's literally me lol), bad transitions between light hearted banter and angst but i'm trying my best RIP, i imagine sirius to be mid-20s and reader only 3/4 years younger (but everyone is OF AGE), mommy issues if you squint

wc: 4.9k+

note: soooo i'm back :D again :D i'm almost done with second year and actually somewhat ahead with all my papers (with very minimal finals; def recommend being a history major x) and i've just been missing the community so enjoy this! i had this first chapter posted a while back (like maybe a year) but it was actually ass so i've redone it a little :)))) as always, reblogs and comments are MUCH appreciated and i can't wait to interact w/ y'all over this because i have been DAYDREAMING about brother's bf sirius :')

Oh but, babe, you know I've tried and failed But you just don't know how it feels To lose something you never have and never will

“What do you mean he’s working at the shop as well?!” you all but screeched, chasing your Mother around the kitchen, feeling a lot like the pesky youngest child you were. 

“He needs some help so we offered to give him a job. Honestly sweetheart, aren’t you too old for this childish feud?”

“Too old? Shouldn’t you be saying that to him? He’s like– thirty or something, and still continues to be the bane of my existence. Fucking Bla–”

Your Mother whirled on you abruptly, brandishing the wooden spoon she was about to stir the boiling pot with right in your face.

“Oi, language! I would tell him the same but unluckily for you, you’re my daughter and currently living under my roof, so you get to hear it first.” She gave you a saccharine sweet smile, the kind that had you biting back the urge to roll your eyes.

“--now, he’s been gone for such a long time, and we’re all very excited to see him, so don’t ruin this reunion with any more of your tantrums.”

You opened your mouth once more, intent on not letting the argument die there, but your Father bounded into the kitchen at the same moment, ruffling up your hair with a “Hey there, kiddo,” before promptly moving on to snake his hands around your Mother’s waist.

“Looking as beautiful as always, my dear,” he cooed into her ear. She let out an uncharacteristic giggle that had you bolting from the kitchen before you were scarred any further.

Your parents’ tooth-aching affections for each other was just that: sweet, but sickly all the same.

Somewhere inside of you, in between the urge for unattainable perfection and the fear of failure, you yearned for a love like theirs. Something genuine but passionate, able to withstand the test of time.

James, your older brother, had found it with Lily, and their son Harry being a product of their young but no less intense love. 

You loved that kid like he was your own. Would beg James to let you come over, play with the babbling toddler for a few hours, even going as far as to offer up your weekends, encouraging the young couple to “go out, live a little!”. But they were about as infatuated with their own child as you were, and had a never-ending supply of friends who were equally as eager to help out.

And one of those always eager friends was currently pounding his stupid fist against your stupid front door, and you were already riled up from the news your mother had broken to you only moments earlier, head pounding and fists balled into shaking fists, that you couldn’t take seeing his face quite literally in front of you, as well. 

You shoved past James, knocking him back a step as his hand reached for the door to let his best mate in. You caught a glimpse of him on the doorstep, the first in almost two years– hair unruly like he’d just rolled out of bed, long, black strands; newly tanned skin blushing under the heat of the sun; those thick, brooding eyebrows that raised up in your direction – eughh. 

“What’s got your knickers in a bunch?” James called at your retreating figure, shouting loud enough to be heard over your heavy footsteps despite the carpeted floor. 

“Ask your best mate over there!” you answered back with a bite, slamming your room door shut.

“Fuck,” he sighed, defeated, yanking his confused friend in and a chucking a thumb towards the stairs. “How’ve you managed to piss her off before you even got here?” he asked incredulously. “Peace– we had peace in this house for the past two years since you’ve been off, and now look–! It’s a bloody riot!”

“Oi– I’ve done nothing,” he moaned indignantly, hanging his coat and scarf on the gold-crested hooks by the door. “--I think,” he added for good measure after a beat. "I mean, I've only just stepped inside."

Sirius had yet to quite grasp why you got under his skin so quick, squirming between his nerves like a misfired electrical impulse.

You’d grown up together, spent every waking moment in each other’s presence when he was at the Potter residence (which happened to be just about always given his own family situation). If books and movies were to be trusted, what with fiction being so reminiscent of real-life, he'd have expected be like some sort of brotherly figure to you.

But even the thought of it had bile creeping up his through, as if it was so unfathomably wrong his body refused to entertain the possibility of it.

So no. Something about you and your irritatingly know-it-all personality, shrill when indignant voice (which was rather often around him), your need to always be right – something about you brought the worse out of him.

Had him constantly searching for something new to point out, to irritate you all over again, hit the nail on your specific head - something to really push you that little bit over the edge. 

It wasn't even like he enjoyed it, watching you get all huffy, nostrils flared, brows knitted together, face verging on a flushed red. Sirisu was well aware that with every jab the two of you threw at each other, things got a little more out of hand.

Right before he had left, two years journeying through the glades of Scotland, then France, Greece, Türkiye, India, Taiwan (he'd been close to everywhere), he had made the mistake of aiming a particularly ruthless dig at you, and watching your face crumple, devastated and defeated, it had finally cracked him inside.

But there wasn't anything he could do about it then, what with leaving the next day, and two years later, it seemed a little too late.

The rest of the Potter family didn’t share your sentiments about Sirius, and rather adored him immeasurably. Had since he’d taken to hiding out in their house after a particularly brutal fight at home when he was only eleven. Heck, he’d even attended every Potter-family gathering, dinner, birthday, you name it, since then. It was why he came over every Sunday for a roast, pudding and some chat – he could never put into words what your family had done for him, the safety, security, home, even, they'd given him when he’d been lost and entirely clueless of what a real family looked like.

So he made the thirty-minute drive, every Sunday, much to your irritation. He plastered on the biggest smile for your Mum, complimenting every minute detail of the meal she cooked for the family, drank a glass of whiskey and smoked a cigar with your Dad; he was even Harry’s favourite, always humming quiet melodies into the youngest Potter’s ear.

With him away, he’d missed out on the family time he usually looked forward to every weekend. Mondays seemed a lot less dreadful after having a belly-full of Mrs Potter’s food.

Still, he’d sent postcards and printed pictures of everywhere he went, the sights he’d seen, people he’d met. It wasn’t the same, not without the lot of you to pester him but he’d needed some time to find himself.

He still wasn’t sure if he’d found what he was looking for, but the money had to have run out eventually so he was back home, ready to work and settle down in his life for once after graduating Hogwarts. 

Sirius followed James into the living room where he found Lily, sipping on a glass of red, sitting by the empty fireplace. Instead, a window had been cracked in to let the temperate wind in.

She perked up as they entered, waving with that soul-wrenching smile of hers that could persuade even the most strong-willed of men into submission. 

“Pads, you’re back!” she called from her seat. "And you've grown a moustache-- interesting choice of facial hair." Sirius, however, raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, ignoring her greeting-slash-judgement as he peered into the empty crib by her side, even going as far as to search under it as if the toddler might have escaped.

“Harry’s gone to bed in the guest room. There was a bit of a shouting match before you arrived,” James explained, sinking into the space beside his wife and pulling her into his side. “Actually, now that I think about it, there was a lot of shouting after you arrived as well.” 

Lily snorted, snuggling into her husband without hesitation, and Sirius couldn’t help but avert his eyes, feeling entirely like he was imposing on an intimate moment as the two of them whispered in the other’s ear.

“Well, don’t mind me. Sitting here, all by my lonesome, no company or polite chatter to partake in, not even my dashing God son to entertain me” he sighed, dramatically, to no one in particular. James rolled his eyes at his best friend’s antics, chucking a frilly throw-pillow at his face (that’s what they’re for, right?) which he just as easily caught. 

“Har-Har! Ever the clown, Paddy,” James mocked, flipping him off just in time for his Mum to walk in and see.

“James! Don’t aim such crude displays at my son,” she scolded, wrapping her wrinkled arms around Sirius’ shoulders from behind his chair. She leaned down, kissing the top of his head affectionately. Sirius only whimpered in agreement, leaning into her motherly touch and whining on and on about how James was being a right bully. 

“My sweet child, I’ve missed you!” She beamed down at him, and that longing Sirius sometimes felt for his own Mother’s approval, her devotion or fondness, it lessened. 

“But you didn’t– He was just!-- You missed– arghh!” James groaned defeatedly, head flailed back to rest against the sofa, receiving no sympathies from his giggling wife and glaring Mother. “I’m starting to understand why she hates you.”

Sirius’ eyes flashed at that– did you really hate him? Had it gotten to that point?

At the mention of your name but current absence, Mrs Potter ordered, “Go call your sister for dinner, I’ve set the table.” 

He began to protest, failing to come up with a half-decent reason why he can’t walk up the two flights of stairs and pull your petulant frame from your bed– but Sirius interrupted in time, before James could make any more of a fool himself in front of his own Mother.

“I’ll go get her. Got to figure out what I did this time,” he offered coolly. 

Euphemia, that is, Mrs Potter, had a strict no-apparting rule in her house, had lost too many expensive vases from James and Sirius’ apparition-sprees the second they’d turned seventeen.

You already had your licence, having been of legal age for some time, and had, since graduating (top of the class, as you tended to point out, much to your Ravenclaw friends’ dismay) from Hogwarts, found a job at a school in the muggle world, teaching children English Literature in preparation of some exam -- O Levels, you’d called them. 

Sirius thought it to be some sort of torture device - these O Levels – but you’d smacked him across the head in admonishment with whatever book was in your hand before he could say much else. Having a family-run bookshop made it so that the books, or the weapons (in Sirius' mind at least), were in endless supply for you.

Your love for reading had come from him, your Father, from when he’d stay up till the late hours of the night, hushed whispers under your bed sheet so your Mother wouldn’t hear, as he read you the Classics in animated voices that had you completely enchanted. He made sparks fly from the tip of his wand, bright colours that your little eyes couldn’t quite get enough of.

You loved being a wizard, were eternally grateful for the world you lived in and the undeniable awe of it all. But words, books, literature – they were enough magic for you, took you to places you could only ever dream to visit, and had you feeling such all-consuming emotions that sometimes, you wondered if you’d ever make it to the end of the page, or chapter, or book. 

“Oi– your Mum’s put out dinner, she’s calling you downstairs,” he called through the thick wood of your door. 

Sirius didn’t know why he such an uneasy feeling settled into the pit of his stomach, like he'd swallowed some moldy bread or a particularly strong cider.

He's known you your whole life, watched you graduate from pencil to quill, and then again from Hogwarts.

Two years was a long a time, and the thought of you holding what he had said all those months ago -- what he hadn't meant, not really -- he was dreading the confrontation.

He nudged the door open when you didn’t respond, only to find you slumped across your bed, glaring, silently, at the ceiling and the pale-orange ring of light from the lamp on your bedside table.

You certainly looked different– older, possibly? He couldn’t quite place what had changed, only that he knew something had. In the way you dressed, styled your hair, held yourself. Even the look of your room– no longer plastered in repeated patterns of owls and roses, but instead a single wall painted a burnt umber and with the remaining covered in tapestries and muggle band posters hanging across every wall.

A stack of vinyls were shoved into one side of your room, along with stacks of books, some old and missing a few pages, while others were untouched. 

You heard the door click open, sitting up on your elbows to see a Sirius, oozing an annoying amount of effortless confidence, and leaning against your doorframe. 

Something in your chest stumbled almost immediately. He looked the same as the day he'd scolded you before leaving, and those stupid, brown eyes of his, like murky swamps you wouldn't be caught dead looking into, were training on you.

Though, he might’ve managed to actually tan, now that you really looked at him, imagining the broad planes of his shoulders, hidden by a thin linen button up, were more sun-kissed than milky-pale now. 

Except you refused to even entertain the thought. You were not thinking of him or his skin or his bare chest or--

“What’s with your face?” you asked, already knowing you'd regret the answer.

“Was that meant to be a greeting?” His eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Hi Sirius-- what’s with your face?” you answered, again, between clenched teeth. 

“You changed your room,” was his only response, and really, what did he expect to say to that?

"I did. Figured I'd use your absence wisely," you snarked back, meeting his gaze as you continued, "--you know, finally grow up and all that."

And you hadn't forgotten, but he didn't blame you.

You got up at his lack of silence, walking the few steps up to him, head tilted like a cat, wary of her surroundings but curious nonetheless.

"Was there something you wanted, Sirius?"

And fuck if the way you said his name didn't have him fighting whatever foreign feeling, urge, instinct was shouting at him in that moment.

You walked past, trembling as your shoulders touched, making it all the way to the bottom of the stairs before you had your moment of revelation as well.

Somehow, whether it had been a slow process over his two-year absence or something far more sudden in the past few minutes, he'd wormed his way back between the cracks of your heart, and this time, you worried you wouldn't survive.

The quiet jingle of the bell tickled your ears as you opened the door to the bookshop, dust immediately invading your senses as you fought back a harsh cough.

Your Dad pushed in front of you, forcing the door to stay open by propping a stack of intimidatingly large books in front of it. You laughed silently to yourself, noting how they were all Dickens (he hated Dickens, said his novels were disturbingly boring and unnecessarily detailed). 

“So, you can dust a little, and sweep the floor, before we open. Count the money in the till, as well, that’s very important,” he noted off, and you suddenly wished you had a pen and a pad of paper to write it all down.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t been helping out at the shop since when you were younger, but this was the first time you’d been granted the responsibility of having it all to yourself (minus the inconvenience that was Sirius Black). 

You were deemed an adult now – loved to point it out any chance you got, and that meant that your Dad trusted you enough to not hover over your shoulder every time you took a shift. He was working fewer hours, though now, none, as he wanted to finish the novel he’d been writing for the past decade after melodramatically announcing at the dinner table that “It’s time!” 

You weren’t sure what that exactly meant, but you weren’t about to argue with the man paying you an overly generous ten pounds an hour. 

You didn’t need the money for yourself, what with still living at your parent’s house, but you wanted to contribute to the house and expenses and what not, even if it was a minuscule sum. 

“Another thing,” he added, stopping, rather abruptly, in front of you, voice worryingly grave as he placed his large palms over either of your shoulders. “Please,” he begged, brows dipping, “don’t fight with Sirius in front of the customers.”

“I haven’t even done anything and you’re already after me,” you objected, pulling back from his usually comforting hold and pulling the broom out from behind the counter. His hands fell defeatedly against his sides as he sighed, standing in your way before you could mope yourself into a tizzy before the work day had even started. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he ensured, pulling you into his tight embrace once more. “You know you’re my number one, sweetheart. Just don’t like seeing you so upset.”

James always teased you for being your Father’s favourite, and you’d never argue, relishing in his pointed fingers and sneering words, because it was true– there was something between you and your Father, an understanding that no one else had clued in on.

He eased your worries like no one else could, smoothed irked creases across your face, replacing them with belly-hurting laughter lines and a grin so wide, you were worried it would fall off your face.

Anyway, James was the same with your Mum. You found her difficult to communicate with, what with her being as hot-heated as you were, so as much as you and your Dad got along, you butted heads with your Mum just as much.

“It’s ‘cause you two are so similar, like twins, I tell you!” But it did little to calm your nerves around her, or stoke the flames of anger you so often felt. 

You were about to respond, ready to tell your Dad just how much you loved him, when someone crashed through the door, slamming into the counter you were standing behind. You turned, eyes connecting with your (late) colleague. He looked utterly windswept, as if he’d run – or been chased – the whole way there. 

“You okay, son?” your Dad asked, worry shifting from you to the panting, bent-over Sirius. 

“Me? Oh– peachy, just– peachy,” he answered between heavy breaths, waving off his doting hands. “Sorry I’m late, got a little carried away with something and lost track of time.”

You were conscious of how your Dad didn’t offer Sirius the same advice, to not pick a fight or argue or whatever it was the two of you did, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how he had everyone charmed.

So you busied yourself behind the till, doing as you were instructed and counting the money, writing down the number of each of the bills on a notepad you pulled from the drawer at your waist. 

Your Dad left soon after, turning the closed sign out front to open as he wished you, and Sirius, good luck. 

“Guess it’s just the two of us, little Potter,” Sirius pointed out, already sounding bored as he fell into a stool at your side. He leaned his head against his arm, stretching it from side to side as he groaned at his tense muscles.

You didn’t mean to stare, swore it wasn’t something you’d let become a habit, but your gaze immediately travelled to the exposed skin of his neck, zeroing in on the trail of newly-formed purple bruises  down the side.

You snorted, shaking your head at him, slamming the money compartment shut a little too aggressively so that it caught Sirius’ attention. He recognised your expression to be something close to amusement, jabbing you in your side until you were scowling and slapping his fingers away.

“What’s wrong with you– you’re acting like a fucking child,” you admonished, moving out of reach and resting a hand on your hip. 

“Why’d you make that face?” he asked instead of answering your question, nodding at you like it was you who had started it.

“It’s nothing,” you went with, hearing your Father’s words echoing in your mind from just moments ago. You needed to diffuse the situation before you really got mad, because past that point, you weren’t responsible for what you said– or did. 

So you ventured into the aisles of books, a curious Sirius on your heels, following you like a lost, yapping puppy. “If it’s nothing then why are you running away?” he pushed back.

You ignored him pointedly, stopping to stack a few books and dust along the shelves. No one had come in yet, still too early in the morning for any tourists to stumble upon your admittedly quaint but bursting shop. 

The sunlight barely filtered past the dense collection of books and mahogany shelves that lined the walls, but the windows stretched to the tall ceilings, and if you went up the spiralling staircase at the centre of the store, you’d find yourself in a cosy loft space, bathed in gold and stuffed with arm chairs and sofas for people to sit and read in. 

It was your favourite part of the store, and you were seriously debating hiding up there on your first day, just to get away from the walking-plague that followed you. 

“Come on– tell me,” he whined, standing too close for your liking. You side-stepped away, brushing a cloth against the worn covers of the Mystery section. He followed suit, returning to his previous position, and this time, you had no way out with the wall of books you’d met. 

You turned, facing him and finally acknowledged his presence. “You lied,” you stated matter-of-factly, loving that you actually had the upper-hand with him. As much as you prided yourself with being quick-witted, Sirius always seemed to find a way to stay on-top.

“Gonna have to give me something more than that, darling. Lied about what?” he countered, raising an eyebrow at you. 

You bristled at the endermeant but continued nonetheless.,

“You weren't busy. You were screwing some girl according to the bruises on your neck,” you stared pointedly at the affected area now, though it was covered by his hair in this position. His hand flew to his neck, as if hoping to shield them from your gaze.

“That’s none of your business Potter,” he countered, irritated. 

“It actually is my business when you’re both late to your job and lying to my Father,” you threw back, shoving forward and relishing in his slight stumble back– as if he hadn’t yet noticed the two of you were so so close. 

“You can’t–” his eyes were wide, worried, as he grabbed your elbow, forcing you to meet his gaze, “You can’t tell him. He’ll be so disappointed and I can’t–”

You frowned at the look of genuine distress written so plainly across of his face. If you two were anyone else, you might've let it go.

Might've--

“Well tough shit, Sirius. You’re an adult, now. This is the real world we’re talking about and not whatever fantasy you've been frolicking about these past two years." You were fuming, unnecessarily so, but both of you knew this was fight had been years in the making.

"I understand you lack the ability to form real, genuine connections but come on, Sirius. You're not a fucking teenager. Grow a pair and take some responsibility for once in your life!"

And really, you deserved it, now that you thought back. His anger was reasonable but your need to poke straight through his ribcage, wrap your fist around his heart and squeeze tight, was not. 

“Fuck you, Potter.” he bit out. “Just because you're not getting any doesn't mean the rest of us have to be equally as miserable."

It was already going to shit, Sirius was well aware of it, but he couldn't get himself to stop. To just shut up.

“Maybe if you weren’t so fucking uptight all the time someone might actually give it to you too," his voice now barely above a whisper with his anger deflated as he stared, pained, at your reaction.

And it didn’t take long for you to react -- for your hand to fly up and connect with his cheek, hard. You hadn't done anything two years ago but he thinks he saw you consider it. So the fact that you had finally, struck across the face, spoke to how different things really were. How different you were.

"Potter, I--" and he was speechless when he really shouldn't have been. He swallowed, trying again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered then, fighting the urge to look away from your glassy stare. “I’m sorry, Potter. You know I don’t mean it.”

What you hated most was that you did know. You knew you both brought out the worst in each other. Only, you could never figure out why that was. Why you wanted to hurl insults at him for every comment or look or the stupid way he’d string together the most perfect sentence and his irritating eyes and mouth and–

“Excuse me? Is anyone here?” 

You inhaled, all sudden, as if only just realising what you had done. You brushed past him without a word, needing, more than ever, to put some space between the two of you. If not for your anger then for whatever pesky emotion was seeping through your cracks.

You were (reluctantly) pulled from wherever your thoughts had been racing to as you called into the store, “Just one moment!”

Sirius debated if this was a sign for him to get back onto a train to anywhere you were not. It didn’t matter if he had no money or nowhere to be, but if it meant he could avoid maiming you with his words, he couldn’t quite see a way out of his predicament. 

“Sirius!” you shouted again, no longer faking your emotions but rather genuinely just exasperated by him once more. 

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” He managed to not get lost in the labyrinth of books, and found you by the travel section, chatting good-naturedly with a blonde in a tight dress.

“How can I help, doll?” he asked the blonde in question. His one tactic for almost every conundrum he’d ended up in was avoidance. And bloody hell was he good at it. 

He smiled at her, the customer, doing little to hide his admiration for the legs she had on display. She flushed a pretty pink, averting her gaze, lip between her teeth. Bingo! 

“Christ, you’re disgusting,” you muttered, mouth pouting and quiet enough that only he could hear.

“Only for you, sweetheart, only for you,” he bit back, not wanting the currently oblivious customer clue in on their conversation. “So, how can I help?”

“She needs that book–” you pointed to the top shelf, well out of reach. “--the green spine that says Amsterdam, but I can’t reach it and the step ladder is too heavy.”

“Alas! Only ever needed for my body, it seems,” he moaned with an irritating amount of flourish. 

“Whatever it takes to get the book down– do what you must, Black.” You patted his chest reassuringly, taking your spot, once again, behind the cash register.  

“So– planning a trip are you?” Sirius asked in between excessive displays of strength as he hauled the bulky ladder with a single hand. You glared at the girl as she swooned at him, wanting, rather unreasonably, for her to combust right where she stood.

But that was a ridiculous thought to begin with. You could barely stand to be even within a metre’s distance of the guy, let alone on the receiving end of his affections. You were tired, emotional and dehydrated. Must be. Though a glance at the clock had you realising it had barely been an hour since your day had started. 

So, maybe just emotional and dehydrated. 

“I’m going to get a coffee from across the street,” you announced, slugging your tote bag onto your shoulder as you walked past the preoccupied pair. Not waiting for a response, you stepped out into the early morning sun, frowning, for once, at the glare in your eyes and not the irritant you’d left behind. 

It was easier to refer to him as something pesky, infectious, fungus-like even, rather than the only person who knew how to break your heart (and despite your somewhat impenetrable facade, you let him do just that every time).

please please PLEASE reblog & leave some feedback <3 i'll boop you if you do x

[oromaangel]

A Family Day at the Beach

Nanami Kento x fem! Reader

Tags: Pure sweet almost sickly fluff, Domestic, pregnancy, SFW, Alternative Universe, I was watching a bunch of Nara Smith videos and needed an outlet before I ended up getting married and having a real-life baby

w/c: 2,083

Based on this moodboard I made

For reference son is around 5 years old, older daughter is around 3, baby is almost 1 and the fetus is a fetus.

Dividers by @soulari

Nanami walked leisurely across the shore line of Kuantan watching his son and daughter in pure amusement as they poked and prodded at a displeased crab.

He had warned them earlier to leave the animal alone, that its claws would pinch their little fingers however, they insisted that the crab come back to live in their sand castle and that it had simply lost its way home. He couldn’t argue with that.

So for the better part of half an hour he had joined his kids in the slow journey guiding “Mr. Grabs” back home. And finally after a lifetime of traversing the sand dunes, the sand castle was in view.

“Almost there Mr. Grabs” his daughters sweet voice offered words of encouragement gently tapping the crabs hard exterior with a twig in the hope to jolst in further ahead. His son however, has grown restless over this whole ordeal.

“UGHHHH Can this thing be any slower” his son puffed, squeezing at his blonde tendrils in frustration. Nanami let out a breathy laugh recounting that at least all the lessons he had taught them both on patience had an effect on one of the children.

In that moment of positive recollection, he glanced upwards towards the sky soaking in the warmth from the rays above.

Big Mistake.

His knee-length clone identified this slight second of distraction from the adult present which gave him enough time to make his move. Nanami should have expected this, kids are like predators, waiting for a moment of weakness from their prey (their parents) before striking and doing something stupid. Alas just as quickly as his happy memories started to play, it ended with the shrill shriek of his daughter.

“Put him down” she screamed as she watched her brother pick up Mr Grabs and run in the direction of the sand castle. Before Nanami could open his mouth she had taken off after her brother, swinging her plastic toy shovel in the air. Standing there in the cloud of sand dust left by his children Nanami mused the idea of yelling at both of them to stop knowing they would both immediately listen but something tickled in the back of his head reminding him that this would be a great parenting lesson to have up his sleeve so he resigned to watching this small bout of madness play out already knowing how it would end.

His son looked back at his sisters expression taunting her with a toothy grin “I’m just faster than you-“

“Three, two, one…” like magic Nanami counted in his head and as soon as the clock struck midnight his son’s face began to contort. First confusion, then pain, then….

Every beachgoer in the near vicinity, grimaced at the ear splitting scream let out by the little boy as he began to flay his arm attempting to unattach a very pissed off crab from his appendage. Pushing the smug parent grin to the back of his mind Nanami approached the panicked child and removed the crustacean from his body, tossing it to the side and watching as it hurriedly scuttled away.

“Errrrr, Kento!” Your voice slashed through the moment “When I said watch the kids, watching them get bitten by crabs was not what I had in mind!” You grumbled, awkwardly manoeuvring yourself upwards, your round pregnant belly throwing off your centre of gravity causing you to stumble slightly in your ascent. Beside you your youngest child babbled happily in the sand, unaware of the distress her older siblings were in.

Nanami grinned sheepishly “It’s alright dear no one got hurt” he held the blushing boys arm as proof of his claim “Lie back done and get some rest” he cooed sweetly. Although your eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses he could feel the daggers aimed in his direction before you sighed and laid back down in the sun chair, picking back up the mother magazine you were reading.

He knelt down wordlessly and analysed the boy's wound, the finger was pinched pink but otherwise no skin was broken and no damage was caused other than to his ego. Smiling sweetly at his son, his lecture to the sniffling child on patience and respecting animals had begun in the most serious tone he could muster with that heavenly ‘Told you so’ feeling swimming in the back of his mind. His son stared at the ground, he hated being scolded by Nanami despite the fact his father never raised his voice or berated him his tone always carried a serious level of discipline and respect that could make a bird feel bad for singing. Nanami didn't like scolding either but he knew it was important to ensure his children stayed on the right path and represented him and his wife's hard work well. The boy nodded wordlessly once Nanami had reached his concluding message and reached out to hug his father's open arms buring his face into the older man's chest.

This was your fourth child with Nanami yet you were still a bundle of nerves preparing for their arrival. Being so close in age with your youngest (completely unplanned on your part, SOMEONE can’t keep their hands and other body parts to themselves) you worried about dividing your attention equally between the under twos and also how much sleep you would be able to get with breastfeeding two mouths.

You had read countless advice columns and mommy blogs warning about the dangers of having kids too close in age, critiquing mothers with large families on their ability to love and provide attention to all their children equally, and seen countless posts warning about the dangers of just about everything you currently did raising your young family. Doubt began to fill your head and despite having three little ones you felt like a new mother learning to do the correct things all over again.

Nanami did his best to ease your anxiety with foot rubs and affirming words reminding you that you both were a team and that he was ready to take on the sleepless nights again, even suggesting hiring a full time nanny to live in the house during the first few months to make the newborn stage easier. You declined his offer, despite home-care being cheaper in Malaysia it would still eat into a large chuck on his savings that could be allocated better elsewhere. Plus you had just watched a video of kids saying that they liked their nanny more than their moms which only added to your growing anxiety.

Nanami had noticed your behaviour change, especially after you began to second guess whether or not you'd vaccinate the baby and seriously discussed giving birth at home in the tub with no nurse or midwife. He shot down these ideas immediately, insisting that he would not be putting you or his children through that extra stress based on conspiracy theories and fear-mongering. He had started to worry about how all the 'online garbage' was affecting your sanity and mental health during your third trimester and insisted on having a no-technology day at the beach to ease your worries.

After another great parenting lesson was concluded Nanami made his way towards his moody wife. Your grouchiness never bothered him, in fact, it was one of his favourite parts of pregnancy. Seeing you become tender and over-emotional and knowing exactly how to squeeze a smile out of you in those moments was his greatest pleasure and partially why you both had formed a little league football team worth of children in such a short amount of time.

“There are my sweet girls” he approached the cheery baby on the ground first, casually removing the fist full of sand that was making its way to her open mouth and peppering kisses across her chubby cheeks causing her to bubble over in laughter. Music to his ears.

“And my favourite girl” he grinned placing the baby on his hip and crouching beside you on the chair. You glanced away from your magazine and scoffed at the slight on your husband’s over-exaggerated kissy face he was making at you.

“No kisses for me?” He asked playfully cocking his head to the side. You rolled your eyes and placed a single chaste kiss on his lips but before you could pull yourself away, you felt a large hand on the back of your neck , keeping you in place as he deepened the kiss. You mumbled incoherently into his mouth for a second before giving in to the affection placing a soft hand on the side of his face. After what felt like an eternity, this kiss was interrupted by a small disapproving smack from the baby on his side who began claw at both of your faces clearly distressed by this public display of affection.

Giggles enveloped the both of you whilst affectionately watching the baby crawl back to the pile of toys in the sand once placed on the ground.

“Still reading that magazine love? Nanami asked glancing at the the object in question “Honestly, we’ve done this three times already I don’t know what other advice you could possibly need or how much more equipment we could fit in the nursery” he grunted as he stood up from the sand balancing at the edge of your sun-bed.

Rolling your eyes you folded up the magazine placing it out of sight “There’s always some thing new to learn with these things, like the new Montessori school opening nearby and there’s these baby bottles that are shaped like real nipples to help with latching, and a bassinet that rocks the baby for you! It’s called the SNOO it’s about eight thousand Ringgits but we can buy it second hand” Nanami playfully groaned at your rambling shifting his body until he laying between your thighs leaving small kisses where he could reach.

“Are you even listening to me Kento? I said it says here that plastic nappies are actually bad for babies skin and that plastic bottles can cause eczema” He hummed absentmindedly in response resulting in a pout from you and a flick to the forehead.

Brushing off your annoyance he pointed his finger in the direction of your two oldest children who were engrossed in a very intense game of tag “Look over there love”

You winced slightly at the blow your daughter had delivered to her brother back once she caught up with him suppressing your giggle as he face-planted into the floor before getting up and taking after his assailant at full speed.

“And over here” he again pointed to the baby playing “Can I eat that?” in the sand beside them.

“You raised all of these kids just fine without all that nonsense, we’re going to be just fine” he kissed your thighs again caressing small circles into you while his eyes remained half-lidded.

You huffed again staring down at your caring husband allowing yourself to relax at his touch. Maybe he was right, all your babies were happy and healthy and you kept them alive for this long and anonmom2567 couldn't be THAT much better at parenting than you afterall.

"You're probably right Ken" you sighed again closing your eyes and relaxing back into the sunbed, he smiled lazily into your thighs content that his plan had worked and that he could reduce some of his wife’s troubles. The sound of gentle waves and chatter lulled you both into comfortable silence appreciating the wonderful weather, coastal air, and beautiful sky.

Of course as a parent silence meant trouble was afoot.

After a few minutes of this blissful silence you turnt to find your baby was not at her pile of blocks. You immediantly shot up and began to scan the area horrified to see your baby a considerable distance away (how'd she even crawl that fast???) at another families beach set up eating a popsicle from a cooing older lady.

"Aren't you just the most precious little angel" she fawned over your littlest one who was already scanning what they would eat next.

Not only that your oldest son had decided that the most adequet punishment for the slap he had recieved earlier was digging his younger sister neck deep in the sand.

Nanami followed your eyes to the scenes before him and let out a loud laugh, getting up to dig out the now-crying child while you retrieved your baby escape artist.

You were going to be just fine.

A/N: My second public fic omgggg hope you enjoyed. I was binge watching a bunch of Nara Smiths content and decided that I need to write my own young family AU before I messed around and married a mormon

[coeursye]

The strange union of Lucerys Velaryon and Aemond Targaryen resulted in the birth of a brood of perfectly handsome sons and perfectly beautiful daughters.

Meet them down below ⬇️

Aemion is the dependable, friendly and oblivious eldest child of Lucerys and Aemond. He deeply loves all of his siblings and has a tendency to acts as if he was their mother. Aemion is sweet, always cheerful and rather charming.

Contrary to his eldest twin, Aeryn is shy and melancholic, he seems to always be in the clouds and likes to isolate himself. He’s pretty reserved unless he’s with Aemion, who he adores perhaps just a little bit too much.

Valaena is a rather calm and collected young girl although she is quite cold, judgemental and sardonic. She is fiercely protective of Lucerys and will not tolerate any kind of disrespect toward him. There’s no one who could be more proud to be a Targaryen than Valaena.

Unlike her sisters, Calyx is not known for being a great beauty but rather for her remarkable intelligence and prowess in archery. Adventurous, she loves to explore news horizons with her dragon. She has little regard for her youngest twin, Baelon, and mostly ignores him.

Prideful, fearful, arrogant and short-tempered, his personality doesn’t make Baelon particularly popular among his siblings. Despite his overall unpleasant demeanor, Baelon’s intelligence is undeniable and extremely praised, though it seems to only add to his already inflated ego.

Maegelle is sweet, at least that’s what she wants everyone to think. She is delighted whenever she gets to tease her older brother Baelon and more often than not gets into arguments with him. Maegelle enjoys singing the songs she wrote as Baelon and Valaena play the lute and the harp for her. She admires and is way more than fond of Valaena but unfortunately for her, it doesn’t seems to be reciprocal.

Saelyna is the eldest triplet of Osferth and Rhaegar. She is quite rubbish, clumsy and overall a very funny little girl but she’s unfortunately not the smartest. For there is absolutely nothing going on inside her head.

Calm and docile, Osferth is a sweet kid with a sweet tooth. While he doesn’t have a dragon himself, he loves takings care of the dragons of his siblings. He is very fond of his sickly little brother Maelor and often sneak in his chambers to take care of him and keep him company.

(Will add the portrait later)

Rhaegar was the youngest triplet of Saelyna and Osferth. He was the only child who looked exactly like Lucerys. The babe unfortunately passed away before his first moon, which deeply devastated Aemond and Luke.

Lucerys and Aemond were blessed with Maelor a few years after the loss of their babe, Rhaegar, and after multiple miscarriages. Sadly, he was born weak, tiny and very sickly with dragon scales on different part of his body. Rarely allowed to go outside, he spend most of his time alone in his chambers with his little dragon, Pythios.

Gael is a little girl who despite her very young age is quite energetic. She likes to run around and cause mischief.

And that’s it, for now. I hope you guys will enjoy all the pics, fics and lores about them that I’ll post in the future!!

[carrionhearted]

Im gonna infodump about my ocs because I can’t stop thinking about them. This will be a book… One day. Read on with caution, this is a horror book with very dark subject matter and mild body horror.

There are two mcs, a closeted gay trans man (Eden), and a severely repressed cis gay man (Harlow). Both raised in a hyper-conservative hyper-religious Deep South town IN THE 80S.

Their story is about the deadly consequences of repression, the cycle of abuse, learned hatred and destructive coping mechanisms. Harlow grew up with an INCREDIBLY toxic father who drilled toxic masculinity into him (having feelings is shameful) as well as homophobia. He only ever demonstrated "solving" problems with violence. Harlow was never given the tools or space to unpack any of his feelings ever. So he grew up to become this repressed, horribly frustrated and confused adult who could not understand his attraction towards other men.

Being gay wasn't even a thought in his mind, it wasn't a possibility to him. His father constructed this impenetrable wall of “us” vs “them” in Harlow’s mind- and like a plant deprived of sunlight, he never grew tall enough to see over it.

All he knew was this gut-wrenching hunger, this insatiable craving for other men’s bodies which he couldn't place- something about the flesh, the warmth, he hungered for it in a way which became unbearable. This did not register to him as sexual, again, that wasn't even an option… but he didn’t know what it was. And when you don’t know how to process your own emotions, it all eventually turns into frustration/ rage. So he solved this problem in the only way he was ever taught how- with violence! He killed men, initially choosing those he deemed deserving of death, and he ate them. An attempt to satiate the hunger. This became a habitual thing and he just… kept doing it. Not because it brought him any real satisfaction, it just snowballed into an addiction and he needed his fix. His town caught on to the string of murders, but he was flying completely under everyone’s radar. We’re talking about a 6’ mullet-having yeehaw dude who’s generally reserved and works for his family’s farm, nobody was really looking at him here.

Important backstory tidbit: Harlow was taught how to hunt as a kid. His father took him on outings, which were maybe the only positive memories he had of that man- and they would hunt deer together. He was taught to always use the whole animal, never let anything go to waste- because everything is valuable.

Everything is a gift. “It’s only murder if you waste the animal” (this heavily influenced his later cannibal ways).

One day as a young teen, he found himself alone for a trip. That's when he was approached by this deer- it looked sickly, almost like it was rotting while alive (it had Chronic Wasting Disease). It was clearly suffering, made clear by its complete lack of survival instincts. It walked right up to his gun. It was in pain. He shot it to put it out of its misery, but he did not take the meat. What was he supposed to do? It was useless to him,, he couldn't eat the rotting meat, and despite that he still felt an immense guilt for leaving it behind. Killing, and just abandoning the body. It registered to him as murder. He carried that feeling of guilt with him for the rest of his life. He vowed to never discard a body again.

Eden is a trans man who knows he's trans, but is out to practically nobody during the story. He’s the youngest in his family, with four older brothers. His parents were NOT suited to be parents- they were self centred people who treated their children like accessories. The parents obsessively kept up this “picturesque good Christian family” facade to the world, but that became harder to maintain as they had more kids. They started having to cut corners financially, to the detriment of those kids. That said, every one of their children was planned. The reason they kept having kids despite their situation was because the mother wanted a daughter. Then, Eden was born, assigned female at birth. Since his birth Eden had been treated like a precious doll more so than a child- he was sheltered and only received direct attention from his parents when they needed to dress him up all pretty for Sunday service. There was an incredible amount of pressure on him to be what everyone wanted. He was also raised VERY religiously, all of which MAJORLY contributed to his inner-turmoil abt being trans. He didn’t even have a word for it, to be “trans”. Only this unmistakable discomfort, guilt and shame, feeling like something is wrong with him, feeling like god made a mistake with him. Again, conservative religious south, he has no space to explore these feelings safely. He's pushed it all down and let it fester inside until it started gnawing away at his very being.

A few years prior to the story, this began to manifest physically as a literal rot. This spot of decay on his chest that's been growing and sinking deeper into his body for years. Sloooowly eating away at him, on track to continue until there is nothing left to devour. By the start of the book it’s claimed most of the flesh on his chest- his ribcage is sparsely covered with any skin at all- and the organs beneath are made vulnerable by it. However, he is horrified to seek medical attention. He sees the rot as a marking of his sin, god has stamped his body with this ugly decay to let everyone else know he's defective.

He hides it beneath layers of clothing. Being on his chest, it’s in a place that only an intimate partner would ever see- considering he's perceived by the world as a "woman".

In a… complicated series of events involving ✨societal pressure and coercion✨, an "intimate partner" does end up seeing his chest (Eden is not clear minded when these events are taking place).

This partner reacts with repulsion and violence, to the extreme that Eden fears for his life. He kills the other man in self Defense. (This sequence alludes to the “trans panic” legal defense which is still permitted by many US courts. If you pursue someone intimately, don’t like what you see beneath their clothes, and you KILL THEM- you can claim “I panicked because I didn’t know they were trans” and get a lesser sentence. It’s bullshit and I’m gonna attempt to very delicately write this scene to highlight how bizarre and unwarranted the male partner’s violent response is. The rot in this instance is symbolic of the perceived defect).

In disposing of the body, he runs into Harlow. They find eachother in a (undecided) remote, secretive location.

You’ll never guess what Harlow is doing! Also disposing of remains (bones n guts), at the same place, face hidden while he does so. They have a mutual deer-in-headlights standoff. There IS an open case of serial murders in their small town… Harlow is responsible. Eden realizes this after a short exchange of stunned words, and totally breaks down. Heavy dialogue exchange, Eden feels completely defeated and destroyed by guilt, he just begs Harlow to kill him. Harlow responds by saying he only kills men (Eden is closeted and passes as a woman). This pushes Eden over the edge and he snaps, he shouts that he is a man, this is the first time he’s ever said it out loud. Harlow is… confused, but intrigued. He doesn’t want to kill Eden, but he’s not sure what he does want to do. He decides to knock Eden out… which he does very easily.

Eden wakes up in a different location. Some not so great smelling farmhouse of sorts. Harlow enters the room eventually and explains… “I disposed of that body for you, don’t worry about that right now. I bruised your head pretty bad when I knocked you out, sorry about that, I didn’t mean to use that much force. I made you some soup! It’ll help. The meat is pork. Don’t worry about it. Let’s talk. :3” They’re still both very unsure of each other but neither have much to lose (they also have mutual blackmail) so they start talking. AND BOOM

COMPLICATED SERIES OF EVENTS

ENSUES AND THEY BOND OVER SHARED EXPERIENCES, TEACH EACH OTHER TO UNLEARN THEIR TOXIC AND DESTRUCTIVE WAYS, HAVE A ROMANCE WHICH SERVES AS A VALIDATION ARC FOR EDEN AND A SELF-ACCEPTANCE ARC FOR HARLOW AND YADA YADA. They are both profoundly disturbed individuals who have done terrible things but the whole point is to hold a magnifying glass to their actions and point out HOW and WHY they fucked up. To condemn that path, the mindset behind it, and the people who carried on those abusive cycles before them. I want to thoroughly examine and chip away at the layers of external influence that lead these characters to their lowest life points- and reveal the truth beneath them. These were once children, full of love and openness as we all once were- the problem is larger than the individual, it’s a societal issue of passed down bigotry and stubborn refusal to progress. It’s a toxic cycle of violence with very real, very deadly consequences for all involved. The characters both do BAD things, that’s the POINT.

Important backstory tidbit: In Eden’s childhood, he found a baby bird fallen a long ways from its nest. It was hurt, and he brought it inside to a small cage. He figured the cage would serve as protection for the bird as it grew- it was so delicate, it needed the shelter. But that cage was tiny. He fed the bird, tried to take care of it and gave it all its base survival needs. The bird was offered food, water and a cage. But that is all. That’s all Eden was given in his home, he thought that meant it was enough. He watched it grow into a young dove, but as it aged it only got sicker. This bird was deteriorating before his eyes and he couldn't understand why- he feared it would die in that cage. As soon as it became old enough to fly, Eden made the decision to release the bird. It was sicker than ever, Eden knew it didn't have long. He knew releasing it would practically be a death sentence, but it was going to die soon either way. He did not want the bird to die in the cage.

When released, the dove didn't even know how to flap its wings properly. The cage was too small to stretch them out, it had never even had the chance to learn how to fly. It didn't know how to find food. It didn’t know how to identify danger. And on the next morning, Eden found that bird on the ground outside of his house, dead. It was being picked away at by a vulture.

Eden felt relief.

The bird had died. It didn't make it. But it brought him peace to know it didn't die in that cage. That bird had never known the love of its mother, or siblings, it had never known what it was like to be wanted and cherished. That role was left to the vulture, who had never turned away from the unsightly or damaged. It had swooped in with the unconditional love of an angel, and carried the dove off into the sky above- its stomach, a chariot to heaven. It was gruesome watching the vulture feast- but it had such a tender appreciation in its eyes. It kept the circle of life in motion. In a way, Eden found this ending happy.

Eden’s symbolic bird is a dove, Harlow’s symbolic bird is a vulture.

They both die at the end of the story.

They'd become very close over the span of it though- they resolved their issues together, but in doing that they found themselves further ostracized from the world around them. They backed themselves further and further away from the world, until they finally hit a corner. Their past destructive actions were also catching up to them- the murders that is, they ended up on the run from police. It all came back to bite them.

The rot on Eden’s chest had spread throughout his entire body, and it was past the point of no return. No medical intervention would help at this point. One night, after a close encounter with police left them both wounded- Eden and Harlow both realized that these were Eden’s last few hours.

His body was decayed and rotted, he was sick, he was injured, he was visibly suffering. He would die soon, it was inevitable. Harlow decides to put him out of his misery. But he couldn’t stand the thought of discarding the body. He didn’t want him to die unloved.

Reaching into Eden's exposed ribcage, Harlow removed his heart from his chest. He knew this would be a death sentence, but he was going to die either way. He didn't want him to die in the cage.

He ate the heart, rotting and tainted as it was, he saw every part of his lover as a gift. Nothing goes to waste, for every rotting animal there is a grateful vulture. One which will see your defect and cherish you all the same.

Is now a good time to address the name Eden? I feel like most people are familiar with the gay love = forbidden fruit and/or cannibalism = forbidden fruit metaphor… yk, the embrace of supposed sin, being arbitrarily kept from the sweet, nutritious fruit of the garden. Passing through the gates of Eden (ribcage again) and eating the apple (his heart).

:3 anyways

Harlowstayed with the body until he also died (unrelated wounds from the chase). Decades later they would be found as skeletons in an unmistakable embrace, none of the flesh which made people scorn them during their lives. They were seen as lovers then, and were finally understood.

ALSO ALSO SO SYMBOLISM RIGHT. RELIGIOUS SYMBOLISM??? REMEMBER HOW EDEN WAS RAISED AS HYPER-RELIGIOUS???

So cannibalism as a metaphor for QUEERNESS now. A craving for the forbidden flesh. To partake in another's body in the most intimate and fulfilling way. But living in a world that sees it as repulsive…

Right? You with me?

Ok and then the inherent divinity of transness. To partake in the act of creation alongside God, to resculpt yourself in divine image. Jesus was not simply born of genetic material (yk how transphobes love to say “blah blah blah you can’t change your chromosomes!!” Like… if we use that logic, Jesus is trans. He’d have XX chromosomes because... miraculous conception.

No sperm, which provides the Y chromosome, which creates a male body. BUT OBVIOUSLY THAT DOESNT FUCKING MATTER BECAUSE HES A MAN REGARDLESS!!!! JESUS WAS A DUDE!!!). He was created by WILL.

The will of god, a version of himself, to BE!!! Fully human, fully god, flesh and blood in an image he himself designed. Holy trinity being the same entity and all, Jesus’s body was his own design in a way.

YOU WITH ME???

OK

OKAY AND SO.

GAY CANNIBALISM… TRANS LOVER.

TO

TO PARTAKE IN THE BLOOD AND BODY OF CHRIST. THEOPHAGY.

THE ULTIMATE HOLY COMMUNION.

TO CONSUME YOUR LOVER AS AN ACT OF WORSHIP, CONVEYING YOUR LOVE FOR EVERY PART OF THE BODY THEY'VE GROWN TO DISPISE. TAKING A PHYSICAL PIECE OF THEIR LIFE INTO YOURS AND UNITING YOUR VERY BEINGS. UNCONDITIONAL AND ETERNAL LOVE, DESPITE ONE’S FLAWS.

TO THINK OF YOURSELF AS CARRION AND BE FOUND BY THE MOST GRATEFUL VULTURE.

A DEAD AND ROTTING GOD STILL BRINGS LIFE TO THE MAGGOTS WHICH FEED ON ITS CORPSE!!!

RAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m unwell I’m unwell I’m unwell I need to actually get to writing this NOW

[anxiousnerdwritings]

ok i got a heartbreaking imagine to give to you

imagine when blood and cheese tried to kill helaenas children they accidentally killed alicents youngest child who is the sickly younger brother!reader kid and who b&c thought it was maelor

I thought you were going to say ‘What if Blood and Cheese killed Sickly!Brother!Reader?’ Cause that would not go down well at all, whatsoever.

If they killed Alicent’s youngest child with the Reader, she would absolutely fucking lose it. Her wrath and her grief would be unimaginable. She would be completely inconsolable, riddled with desolation and the knowledge that she’s failed not only as a mother but she’s also failed her darling by not protecting their precious child. She wouldn’t be able to bring herself to tell her darling the gut wrenching truth, she wouldn’t want it to break him. What if when he finds out his health deteriorates even more? What if it breaks him so much that he just can’t keep going on anymore? Alicent doesn’t want to lose him too, she wouldn’t be able to live without her darling. She’s barely holding on as is at the loss of their child, if her darling died too then she wouldn’t have anything else worth living for.

As much as she hates lying to her darling she can’t let him know about the loss of their child. Not yet, at least. She’ll forbid anyone from breathing a word about it to the Reader, as far as he knows their child was sent off to be fostered in Oldtown similar to Daeron. If the Reader questions or argues that their child is far too young to be fostered off then Alicent will reassure him, having her father also assure him that it would all be okay and that their child is being taken such good care of. Meanwhile, the Greens hold a very small and secret funeral for the child without the Reader’s knowledge.

Alicent could very well also use the death of their child to finally persuade the Reader into turning his back on Rhaenyra and Daemon, taking action against them as a whole. It was them who hired the assassins to take their child’s life after all. It was them who tore away the Reader’s only flesh and blood of his own. It just depends on when she decides to tell the Reader about their child’s demise. Especially if she’s already lied and said their child was safe and very much alive in Oldtown when they have already since been cremated in dragonfire. But her and her father would come up with an even bigger lie and say that the child was either sailing back for a visit only to be attacked by Rhaenyra’s supporters, or that the child had been attacked and killed back at Oldtown by assassins that Daemon sent (similar to what really happened but with a little added spin here and there). Either way, Alicent would only dig herself into a deeper hole with all the lies but she justifies it as all being for her darling’s sake.

After the death of their child, Alicent would be in desperate need of some form of comfort and reassurance and her darling’s the only one she wants it from. He’s the only one she needs it from. She would lie down with the Reader most likely while he’s asleep due to the Maesters medicating him, she would just want to hold him and be held by him. Alicent would only ever confess the truth of what happened to their child while the Reader was passed out. She would sob out her apologies for not doing better by him and protecting their child like she should have been and vow to take revenge on those who took their child away from them. She would promise to make the ones who did this to them writhe in agony and beg for death. She would promise that Rhaenyra and Daemon would never take anything from her and her darling ever again.

Imagine if Blood and Cheese weren’t only sent to kill one of Aegon and Helaena’s children but was also told to take the Reader too? So not only would Alicent end up losing her only child with her darling but she also ends up having him stolen away from her too. She would be absolutely distraught, on a warpath of revenge and trying to take her darling back. And the Blacks would see a side to her they never saw before.

In the case that Sickly!Reader is still very unaware of Alicent’s fifth child being his then that would be harder for Alicent. Her only shred of physical proof of her and her darling’s love is torn away from her and her darling doesn’t even know that he’s lost his only child. As far as he knows the child was his late eldest brother’s but that doesn’t take away from the hurt that the Reader would still have. Especially if he did take on a much more paternal role for the child in his late brother’s stead whether due to Alicent making it so or the Reader’s own want to. Alicent may feel a little more like she’s suffering from the loss all on her own because the Reader has no clue that the child was his. Sure, he’s still effected and he felt as though the child was his own but he doesn’t know the truth and there’s a part of Alicent that wants to tell him it so that they can fully grieve and mourn together. She wants the Reader to share her pain and especially the intensity of it with her but she also wants to save him from doing so all the same so that it won’t destroy him causing her to lose the most important thing she has.

[turtleblogatlast]

okay so just so you know, im literally in love with your prison!leo au, yesterday i spent like over an hour scrolling through the tag and i think i read every post at least twice (more for the comics). its combining ‘prison dimension has permanent effect on leo, and not just mentally’, ‘immortality angst’, ‘object or place having a form of sentience’, AND ‘leo is somehow made significantly younger than his brothers which very much changes their dynamic without him wanting it to’ all into one which is just amazing.

i love how you combined comedy and tragedy very well!! like, for example the idea of leo being mistaken for the youngest brother, than a son, then a GRANDSON, is kinda funny for a second, but when you think about it for more than a couple seconds its also. really tragic. this poor kid may never be able to fully grow up - not only is he likely going to outlive his whole family but hes also permanently in the body of a child, lacking a fully developed brain and maybe never having the full maturity of an adult (at least in path b, until hes able to find a ‘cure’, if ever). its just. so good!!

anyways aldjsldkksld enough of the gushing (i mean i could keep doing it for like two thousand more words, but if i did it would probably devolve into keysmashes at some point from the Grip this au has on my brain). i am curious, what would happen if leo got sick? i know you mentioned that things like a common cold wouldnt really affect him that much, but what about one of those sickness is that leaves you pretty delirious/feverish and can take you out in a matter of a week? (could be a type of mystic sickness or curse as well, where you don’t know if the victim will survive or not and the only option is to wait it out.) what would happen? would they sort of just decide that its better to find a way to temporarily kill him so his body could regenerate as new, or would they try to take care of him and see if they could wait it out, since i imagine it would be the only time he’d really let his family take care of him in that way. thats all assuming his body wouldnt just automatically find a way to heal the separate curse and he’d be well again within an hour (still not fully sure as to how his healing works, sorry!)

anyways, love this au and im going to be obsessed with it for the next Month thanks

[ cw: discussion of murder / discussion of mercy kill / risky behavior implied / ]

Omg I’m

So touched???

Thank you for enjoying my AU so much, it really makes me happy to hear this :’) This whole AU was thought up exactly because of my interest in the concepts you mentioned - particularly the one regarding the Prison Dimension having a permanent and visible effect on Leo.

I know I haven’t updated it in a while, but I am still working on it and have even finished drafting the next comic, I can’t say when I’ll finish it but this ask definitely pushed me to work on it more so thank you so much <3

As for your question- it depends! In most regular illnesses, Leo would get over them very quickly, only experiencing the briefest brush with the symptoms before his body throws it away, if that. If the illness is mystic in nature then things get a little more complicated, as you’re right in that it could potentially end up as an endless loop of the first part of whatever weird sickness he gets. So if the illness is something that instantly affects you in the worst ways, and it’s something you just need to ride out until it leaves…that can potentially be harmful. Of course, it needs to be a powerful illness to bypass the prison’s curse to that extent though. …then again, maybe something would prefer that for him, should it appear beneficial :)

As for whether the fam would decide to just…’reset’ Leo to get rid of the illness…that’s a tough one. It really depends on how long Leo’s been back, and even then, it’s not something they’d just do, it’s hard for them to even imagine really. More likely, a sickly Leo would merely try to find a cure himself in his delirium, and end up ‘reset’ along the way.

I hope my wishy washy answer was enough! And really, thank you so much again for the kind words, they mean a lot :’)

[sarilolla]

What if Bruce and Floyd are the only ones who were found and brought to Branch in time to talk about what they were up to in the past 20 years before they have to say goodbye to their dying brother? Also, how cute would it be if Bruce were to show Branch pictures of Bruce's wife and kids?

Omg yes, this is so cute, but also ouch, only two brothers getting there on time (the brainrot is real for this au, thanks to everyone for enabling me <3)

So, I'm not specifying who exactly is picking Bruce up, but just know it's some of the bounty hunters from the second movie

Hanahaki Branch au (slight spoilers/alternative ending to not finished fic)

***

Bruce had had a very normal day of running his and Brandy's restaurant, helping his beautiful wife, and attending to his kids whenever they needed or wanted something. It was a normal day. The day did start going south as soon as other Trolls showed up, Trolls he had met before. There was nothing wrong with Trolls visiting, just unusual, so he always made an effort to at least become aquianted with the travelers that visited "Bruce and sons and one daughter".

They weren't there to chat or order food though. Not there to catch up. They were friends of Branch. He almost lost what he was holding when they told him why they were there. Branch was dying. His baby brother was dying. An old, but scary disease had taken hold of him, and he was reaching the final stage where he couldn't save his life on his own anymore.

Brandy pushed him out the door herself. There was no time to lose. He would make it up to her soon enough, the time he was taking off work and leaving her alone with the kids. He knew his lovely in-laws would help her though.

The air was tense when they arrived in Pop Village. People were waiting, watching, and he was very firmly guided to a large rock, seeing a "go away" welcome mat. Stepping on, it revealed to be an elevator, and he was both confused and surprised as they descended into a well-stocked and carefully crafted bunker.

He was guided to the door, and people seemed relieved he was there. He wondered if he was the first to arrive, considering how anxious the few Trolls who were moving around were acting, but opening the door to a bedroom, he saw he wasn't. A pink Troll sat on one side of the bed, her eyes watching the Troll in the bed. On the other side sat a teal Troll with dark pink hair. Floyd. The second youngest had changed, but he still had that tell-tale tenseness in his body that told Bruce he was unhappy. He was speaking softly, and Bruce thought he heard something about "nearly kidnapped", but didn't focus on that.

In the bed lay a sickly-looking Troll, with dull coloring, but the family teal, and dark blue hair was unmistakable. Branch.

He was the first to notice his arrival, and they made eye contact, a soft and searching look in the youngest eyes. The other two finally noticed him, and the pink Troll shot up.

"Spruce, right?"

He blinked, correcting her, "It's Bruce now, actually. And you?"

"Poppy. I'm Branch's girlfriend."

He nodded, and she let him take her seat, and she moved a few steps away, shifting nervously.

"Talk with each other, please? I can't lose him."

The words stung. He hadn't expected his baby brother to have a girlfriend, and he could only imagine how painful it was losing someone you loved like that and not being able to help.

When he nodded, she left the room, closing the door behind her. Branch's eyes were still trained on him, but Floyd was fully focused on the youngest. They were holding hands, and as carefully as he could, he took the free hand Branch offered him.

"Love you."

He said carefully, and Bruce teared up at how small his voice sounded.

"I love you too, Bittie B."

Branch frowned a bit, and Floyd chuckled, even if it sounded teary and a bit pained.

"Not a baby."

"Sorry. I love you, Branch."

That earned him a soft smile from both his two youngest brothers. Finally getting eye contact with the second youngest, he told him the same.

"I love you, Floyd."

Floyd bit his lip to avoid saying something sarcastic but replied just as easily.

"I love you too... Bruce."

He couldn't help but smile. It was nice hearing one of his brothers use the name. It felt right.

Branch's breathing had cleared a bit, and like he had asked Floyd earlier, he asked Bruce to share what he had done after escaping the Troll Tree.

He spoke of traveling a few different places, before he somehow washed up on Vacay Island, meeting the most amazing woman. His brothers didn't tease him for the fact that "The Heartthrob" had settled down and were mainly just excited for him. There were no comments on how he had changed, just happiness and relief to see him. He talked about his kids, all thirteen, and while they were happy to be uncles, they were a bit surprised at the large number.

He showed them pictures. His and Brandy's wedding day, how he was tiny compared to her. The opening day of their restaurant, and pictures taken from different events over the years. Pictures of the large eggs of all the kids. First walks, first songs, first day of school. Floyd snickered at the picture of one of his kids in a ketchup bottle, but Branch only smiled, too tired to react anymore. Bruce couldn't wait until they took a full family picture with everyone. His brothers would love his new home, and he was sure both parts of his family would interact wonderfully.

The youngest looked really, really tired, and Bruce, as a dad, could tell he was fighting sleep. He just needed to decide if Branch should sleep, or if they should keep him awake just a bit longer. He had dealt with his fair share of sicknesses with so many kids, but Hanahaki... he hoped he would never see again.

Floyd spoke a bit about his own travels when Bruce asked, and he was so proud of him. Branch had closed his eyes, only listening to them, and his labored breath and hard hand-holding were all the indications he was still there.

It had been two hours after Bruce arrived now, and Floyd had already been there for four. They were getting anxious. Where was JD and Clay? Would they be found in time? The local doctor had done a quick check on Branch when they went outside for a quick snack and bathroom break, and the news wasn't good. The Hanahaki was old, clinging to him, and if the two remaining flowers weren't taken care of soon...

Poppy joined them after, and she shared stories of her and Branch's adventures, and the two marveled at what their baby brother had accomplished. They were so proud, especially when he got the strength to add to or correct something his girlfriend said. But then he got tired again, his eyes slipping shut.

"Don't... don't be angry with them for not arriving in time. Tell them I love them."

Was the last thing he said, coughing a bit, and they picked up the fully bloomed multi-colored iris and dahlia into their paws. They were both shaking as they realized what he was insinuating, pleading with him to open his eyes again. They needed to see him. They needed him to be alive.

His breath was labored. Stuttering. Until it stopped. Branch's hold went slack in their hands, and the trio who had been sitting with him took a long moment to fully realize what was happening. Poppy was the first to break down and cry, while Bruce was frozen, and Floyd looked like he was about to have a panic attack. Slowly, he made his way over to his brother, sitting by him as they hugged.

Branch was dead.

They didn't know where John Dory and Clay were, but right now, it didn't matter. The youngest was dead, and they would never be a whole family again.

***

Y'all are enabling me to have Branch die, you know that? Please continue-

Just... augh, only two of them getting there in time, just ouch. Wanted to keep it vague if JD and Clay were found, or just didn't show up on time

Branch death counter for this au: 4 (non-canon but still-)

[wackpedion]

Hallo chaaaa☆

Saw your post, time to send ask 🏃‍➡️ Actually more like i just send whatever in my mind right now

Kodaka once said (on bsky, although not canon, it is still fun to think about) that Seth's childhood had similarities with Jataro's.

I wonder how toxic is his family

maybe he was scolded when he was young, which led to him panicking when he heard adults/people with more power (priest, Yomi) scold him? Or is he subjected to cold violence because of the creed "silence is golden" and he suppresses his feelings of wanting to express himself?

What do you think about this?

Link to the post in case you need recheck: https://bsky.app/profile/kazkodaka.bsky.social/post/3koc6n22qwu27

YEAH I SAW THAT !!!! it drove me sososo insane when i first saw it because I always headcanoned that Seth had a rough homelife/childhood and turns out its canon......... im a prophet

anyway I havee . thoughts, on his family. I imagine that his parent's verbally abusive, similiar to Jataros. They were probably also pretty absent too seeing as that's a notable part of Jataros homelife. additionally the creed doesn't paint a very welcoming picture, encouraging silence and coming off as controlling, and I imagine his parents were strict over the creed

youu're like totally right about the thing about people in power, i imagine because of his upbringing he has a complicated relationship with authority figures, having been conditioned to do as they say and follow orders and please them while also having been consistently mistreated by them throughout his life

also random sidenote but I think of his family as being rich and prestigious

I also think Seth has siblings, not for any specific reason but rather that if someone has a child they're likely to have more than one so it just makes sense probability wise. I would say he has like... 3-4 siblings ? I dont have a solid headcanon for it though. I imagine the relationship amongst them would be very competitive, partly because of their home environment encouraging it, with them fighting to be better than the other and get validation/approval from their parents.

Imm not sure if Seth would be like, the eldest or youngest or somewhere in the middle, I kind of want to make him the eldest just for that eldest daughter syndrome. That and by making him the eldest you could headcanon that his parents choosing to have more children was because they wanted to have 'normal' and 'right' kids, unlike Seth who is sickly.

Speaking of Seth being sickly, I headcanon that he's disabled (specifically that he has Vocal Chord Paralysis, which often causes someone to have a whispery voice) and like probably autistic and/or chronically ill. I imagine that this makes his family see him as incapable and helpless, despite also holding him to high standards. this would lead to frustrating and upsetting situations for Seth and would noot help his confidence at all thats for sure

Uhmm thats it for now!! I mean I could probably say more but oughfj this is already pretty long so . I hope you enjoyed my hcs and rambles!!! and thanks for the ask :3

[idontliketomatoesleavemealone]

How does the Rasputin family breakdown? Like ages, deaths, stuff like that

Also any other hcs you wanna share!

this hopefully will not get too long.

So, first of all, we obviously have Grigory Rasputin himself & his wife, Praskovya Rasputin, who had three children;

Mikhail Rasputin, called Mischa, born before the isle was created, but taken there once it was when he was four years old. Mischa is dead, but his cause of death is unknown, as is the time. Fact is that he probably passed early because the only memories his next-oldest sibling had of him were very blurry. He would be around twenty-five now, but likely didn’t live past six.

Dmitry Rasputin, called Mitya, was just like his brother born before the isle was created and taken there when he was two years old. Mitya died of a particularly cruel beating by his father when he was nine years old and would be twenty-three now if he had lived. He was a very caring and protective older brother to his siblings, specifically Marya and Varya.

Anna Rasputina, called Anya, was born a few months after her father and brothers were sent away, always stayed sickly, and ended up passing away when she was only a few weeks old. She is not on any death records of the isle because they simply don’t know that she existed. Anya would be around 21 now if she had lived.

(Side note: I know it’s confusing that these two are called Dmitry and Anya because we already have Dimitri and Anya (Anastasia) in their story, but I am basing them off of real-life Rasputin children. For it to be clearer, the heroes are Dima (a different short form for Dimitri) and Anastasia or Nastya.)

After those three, we have four Rasputin kids that do not have a notable parent other than him:

Maria Rasputin, called Marya by most but usually Mascha by her father, the girl who lived! She was born around the same time as her half-sister Anya, but is probably a little bit younger. She’s also currently 21, but is mentally (due to being isolated for most of her life and having 3+ different neurodivergencies etc.) closer to around 6. she is not stupid, she just doesn’t have the life experience that you would expect her to have. Marya is part of Harriet Hook‘s pirate crew as the medic.

Varvara Rasputina, called Varya, is a year younger than Marya, would-be 20 years old but died of untreated pneumonia at age 12. she is kind of the baby of the longer-living Rasputin kids. Varya was blind on one eye due to head trauma and generally more careful and anxious than her siblings. After her death, she was dropped off on the side of a road by her father, later found by members of Harriet‘s pirate crew, and buried in the dragon hall cemetery.

Gregoriy Rasputin, called Schora, is three years younger than Varya, and much less well known. He died about a year after his birth, and would be 17 right now. It’s unsure what actually happened to him, but there’s a good chance his father was involved. Marya doesn’t like to talk about him, suggesting that it was not a peaceful end.

Praskovya Rasputina, called Pascha, n o t Rasputin‘s wife, but a youngest child named after her, two years younger than Schora, so she would have been around 15 now. She was something of a favorite of her father, often affectionately called Paschenka, and being generally better taken care of than any other child. It can be assumed that Rasputin didn’t have anything to do with her death, which happened when she was still an infant.

I technically have a lot of random headcanons about them but I don’t think I can actually put them into words very well so here, have a short summary of all my Rasputin kids, I might add on later if I think of anything else

[hannahhook7744]

What are the junior crewmembers of the Stormbringer (Fiona, Noah, Atlas, ect.) like when they're teenagers? By the time they grow up, the barrier would've been down, so what happens to them? How do their personalities differ from the older kids who grew up into teens on the isle?

I'm sorry this isn't every one of the younger kids (not including Isaac who isn't much younger than Hannah Hook) and that this has taken so long because I haven't thought about everyone yet BUT here are the ones I got/thought of.

I'll add more when I think of them:

------------------------------------------------------------

Fiona: She's a total sweetheart but never loses her gothic style.

Rarely loses her temper but can fry you alive with her words when she finally reaches her limit.

She and Noah eventually open up their own little record, flower, and boutique shop.

She also eventually figures out she's from Moors and tells Maleficent she's not special when Maleficent brings up being from Moors.

Levi: He's more mischievous than he was as a toddler though still helpful and can be a bit of a bad influence to his younger 'siblings'.

Loves sailing and wears baggy clothes in an attempt to look smaller. It does not work because once he hits puberty he's over 8 feet.

Also always wears a sailor paper boat hat even though some people find it weird because he doesn't care what they think because Hannah always told him he could be whatever he wanted.

Tommy: She's a sweetheart, has a cool girlfriend, and is over all happy with life.

She has an army of guinea pigs that she loves to death.

She's the go-to witch for her crew still.

She becomes a ROAR/sword fighting instructor and works with animals in her spare time.

Noah: He is still a ball of sunshine but has more of an attitude and is more dramatic/theatrical/sarcastic as he grows.

He will also wear ty dye everything with a black leather jacket full of patches he sewed on himself with no shame. Someone even found him a tye dye jacket he refused to take off.

He's bit whiney about the fact Hannah isn't suicidal enough to agree to him getting a tattoo without his mom's permission but is still very sweet and kind and loving to her and everyone else.

He loves alternative music (like rock, punk, etc) and eventually opens up a record, flower, and boutique shop with Fiona.

He also dyes the tips of his hair pink at some point and will randomly wear fruit/plant costumes because he can. And gets more tattoos.

Is in Haul's band.

Atlas: Wears mainly dark colors.

Gets more of an attitude as he grows up and due to being one of the youngest of the crew he ends up picking up several of the older crew's hobbies/personality traits.

Tends to look most like Hannah when he isn't switching forms to mess with people.

Looks up to Hannah and Haul the most.

You can very much tell what he thinks because he's not good at covering up his expressions. He also has a tendency to stare.

Over all, due to his varying personality traits, mannerisms, and hobbies and the fact he shapeshifts throws people off a lot lol.

Nadia: Avid music lover and dancer.

Very gracious.

Occasionally grants wishes for fun/as a good deed.

Has trouble saying to people.

Loves helping others. Especially her friends.

Willow: She's a sickly hippie and an environmental advocate.

Noor: Avid music lover and dancer.

Very artsy and bold.

Gets along great with Jordan and occasionally helps with their cases.

Finds a way to work with monkeys because they're her favorite animal.

Elara: Mix between an adrenaline junkie and a hippie.

Cheats at poker.

Very mischievous and she has a bit of a temper.

Always daydreaming.

Very good with people and animals, especially kids.

Can always find a lop hole in a contract (which makes people suspect she MIGHT be part fae).

Loves the world and those around her and animals but is not overly judgemental.

Loves art and she takes up gardening as she ages.

Darius: He is very mortified by his whole 'I curse you think' that he used to do as a child.

Can still come off as stuck up and rude to some people but he's not a bad guy. Can be a bit judgemental though.

He's very sophisticated.

He becomes a historian and is hellbent on preserving historical monuments and objects.

Oh and he's still sickly.

Marcys: Chill hippie.

Bit of a philosopher. Wise beyond his years.

Loves parties and hanging out with people.

Bit of a handy man.

He becomes an archery teacher and he learns magic once he discovers he has it.

Lysander: Chill hippie.

Bit of a nature activist. Vegetarian.

Very sweet boy.

Grows out his hair and wears lots of tye dye.

Bit of a philosopher. Wise beyond his years.

Loves parties and hanging out with people.

He becomes a musician.

Beau: Becomes a model.

Grows more comfortable and confident in his own skin.

He's still a very shy person but he doesn't hate himself anymore.

Loves parties and showing off his collections.

He becomes just very eccentric and is actually confident and comfortable now and not just faking it.

Craven: His style is a mixture of punk and kidcore.

He's sweet and shy but will not hesitate to stand up to those who try to abuse their power.

He still very much loves frogs and toads and is very protective of them.

He's not afraid to play 'dirty' to protect those he cares about.

Jolene: She's very protective of her brother still.

She's wild and full of attitude and sarcasm. Taking very much after Darcy.

She's a mixture of goth and punk.

She's very much a wild child and an advocate for those in need.

She's been to TONS of protests and led several of them herself.

She gives no fucks about any one else's opinion (accept maybe her crew).

Ike: He's a bit of a hermit due to being painfully shy. Doesn't like being around people he doesn't know too well.

Is ride or die.

Very artsy.

Would home alone a burglar.

Is a master at sword fighting.

Has a marble collection.

Will snark you to hell and back, and will nag at you (because he cares).

Skelebar: Has had some bad experiences with people and is very insecure.

Covers as much as her skin as she can and keeps her hair in her face.

She's slowly becoming more outgoing but she's still very traumatized from the aforementioned previous bad experiences.

She's very artsy and very affectionate to those she's close to.

Tries to see the best in people.

------------------------------------------------------------

Feel free to add your own headcanons on them. I could use the help.

[squadrah]

From My CuriousCat

"What was each member of La Squadra like as a kid?"

Ages ago I received an ask about them as babies and very young children, and by that time I already had this in the drafts, so consider this the continuation of the dialogue!

Risotto: He was very quiet and came across as intimidating, but in truth he was just awkward because of his general size compared to everyone else, and he was often troubled by intrusive thoughts. If he liked you, he would settle by you or follow you about, sometimes from a distance, which also didn't help.

Formaggio: A wild child who was spoiled rotten by his mother early on while he was the youngest child. Got into all sorts of shenanigans, sometimes got what was coming to him, and sometimes got what he did not deserve, but somehow he retained his playfulness and determination. Definitely a class clown.

Prosciutto: He was beautiful and talented, and very, very, odd. He spoke politely, but often phrased things in an uncomfortable manner, and carried himself "very maturely for his age," which was always, always used against him. Was handled so extensively that handling others comes too naturally to him now.

Pesci: He was his grandmother's darling as her only grandchild. Very shy and self-conscious, he wanted to make friends very badly, so he followed whoever would have him. Often chickened out before he might have been coaxed into doing something bad or cruel. Loved cartoons and comics, dreamed of making his own.

Ghiaccio: Was diagnosed at an early age because his parents had to know if (their plans for) his studies were at risk. Was consistently pushed to compete in everything, to bring home the best scores and grades, and had very structured "free time." Had a lot of meltdowns. Was constantly starving for validation.

Melone: A curious one with an artistic and scientific mind, he once cut his own hair because he wanted to paint and couldn't find a brush, so he decided to make his own from scratch. Was very sickly and lonely, so he spent his time watching TV and reading at home, where hardly anyone noticed or cared.

Illuso: He was a very angry and fussy child because he had too many siblings to be properly distinguished with attention, and whenever he was, he got too anxious and blew his chance. Was constantly at odds with his older and younger siblings, struggling for resources, and squirreling things away every chance he got.

Sorbet: He grew up very anxious because he understood that his family had money troubles, and it seeped into his young psyche so much that he started looking for change in the streets, pinching every penny he had. Was lonely and often wandered about, just absorbed in his troubled little world.

Gelato: Another wild one, except he had acquired a knife a lot sooner than Formaggio, which made him not just a troublemaker, but an unstoppable force. Did his best to never, ever become the role model eldest brother his parents hoped he would become. Not so much a class clown streak as a merciless jester vibe.

[dirtytransmasc]

I don't know why, and maybe this is me projecting my perfect bbg himbo man standard's onto him, but, Matthias feels like the type of friend to mother hen, but in like... a begrudged sorta of way.

like, he wakes up super fucking early, so he makes everyone breakfast, pretends to complain about it, but then watch on as his friends eat with a smile (he also insists on having "family" meals at least a few times a week, that not even Kaz is allowed to skip). he cleans really early too, forget sleeping in on a sunday, the 'house' most be cleaned, the bad energy must be purged (that superstitious ass definitely believes in bad vibes).

if one of the crows gets sick, he is force-feeding them homemade medicines and has a bunch of outdated old wives' cure-alls, tinctures, and traditions that he forces on his friends (he's putting onions in your socks, garlic in your ear, and opening your window the second he hears a sniffle). he's sitting at your bedside with soup in one hand and a literal pitcher of water and literally hand feeding you (does the grandma thing where he grabs your jaw if you struggle, cause your fucking eating it, there's no escaping it and the gallon of water he plans to make you drink at each meal). again, he even does this to Kaz, and complains the entire time, even when Nina tells him to stop and that he doesn't have to, he refuses to, cause he doesn't know how to stop.

he also has a bunch of like, immuno boost traditions. like he's making you take a snow bath after the first snow storm of the year (my grandma made me do this till I was like, 15, and I swear on my life it works, somehow), he's giving you awful spoonfuls of concoctions in the morning saying "it's good for you" in a very insulted and grandma-esque tone.

he complains that everyone is too skinny so he's always in the kitchen cooking something heavy and hearty. specially for wylan, cause he's the youngest, so he naturally mother hens him 10x more, that kid is not escaping the heaping amounts of meats and fish and bread this man is shoving down his gullet. he becomes a house wife in an attempt to "nurse these fools back to health" cause he's convinced they're all sickly/dying.

throws (aggressively and not at all lovingly) coats at kaz, cause the skinny pale demon is awful when he catches cold (that's totally the only reason). makes sure everyone leaves the 'house' with gloves and scarves. always has a fire going in the furnace at the end of the day. he has knitting vibes too? like, there's definitely a few blankets that he made himself, and they're everyone's favorites.

I think matthias just has repressed baby girl/housewife vibes, and I just want to embrace them in all their glory. I want him to be an apron-wearing, hand-on-the-hip, towel-on-the-shoulder housewife. I want him to be a single mom to the crows while constantly complaining about 'having to do all the work in this household' while also knowing full well, that he does not, while the others tell him he does not. I want him to take care of everyone because he gets all warm in the chest and he likes how it feels to be in the caregiver role and not the protector role (though he doesn't mind doing a bit of both). I want my mans to find peace, and what better way than to be a housewife.

the crows absolutely love it, especially with their massive amalgamation of family issues, this nice to have some semblance of normalcy, even in the form of an over-bearing grandma in a big muscley fjerdan body. its nice sitting around the table and talking about their day. its nice having some semblance of a schedule to there days, to wake up knowing there will be breakfast waiting for them and a warm blanket to come home to. its almost comedic how fussed up Matthias can get about their poor habits, how he forces them all to eat or cleans up after them or forces a coat onto their shoulders as he prays to Djel for strength. nina and inej like seeing their boys smile, feeling happy, safe, and loved. wylan for once doesn't hate being babied, cause in this case, he just gets fed good food and has nice mittens thrown at him. jesper has always viewed the crows as family, and now they really are one. kaz hates to admit it, but the fjerdan isn't that bad, and maybe opening up to his crows isn't that bad either.

(the focus on kaz was purely to show this man's determination to his cause. he is so committed, he not only wants to, but gets kaz to let him wrangle him into his bs. Matthias "calls kaz a demon within moment of meeting him" Helvar gets Kaz "emotionally constipated to the point he pushes everyone away, including the woman he is down horrendous for" Brekker to take sick days, eat meals with the family, actually put some meat and color on his bones, on both of their (somewhat) free wills. that's gotta get him a medal or something.)

[redrobin-detective]

Spectrum

Craig Matheson did not like ghosts. However, living in Amity Park had made him learn to accept the presence of the dead. He didn’t like ghosts and he liked them even less up close but given the situation he’d once more learned to live with the impossible.

He didn’t really know the exact details of what was going on, he was a 20 year old psych major at the community college but it was bad enough that some of the ghosts decided to ally themselves with humans. Craig didn’t know all that much about ghosts or ectowhatever or whatever gobblygook the Fenton’s were constantly spouting on the TV. But Craig did know people and that’s why the last few days, human and ghost in close quarters had been so interesting.

He knew Jazz fairly well, he TA’d Casper’s Intro to Psych when the girl had been a frizzy haired freshman. He liked her in that nice if slightly awkward older to younger student way. Of course he, like everyone in town, knew her family was nuts. But Jazz was levelheaded and brilliant and determined to break away from their nonsense; she was girl who would go places. When the end of the year came, he’d joked to her that he’d better get his degree before she came through and blew him out of the water.

The younger Fenton kid, Danny, Craig didn’t really know aside from Jazz’s occasional grumblings during cram sessions. He’d sounded like your average, annoying little brother. Craig had never met him in person before the emergency. He wishes it had stayed that way.

The first time Craig stood in a room with Danny, he felt the way one does at a zoo when a caged predator locked eyes with you. You knew logically that you were safe but that didn’t stop the instinctual fear from creeping up your spine. Craig lived in a shitty apartment with 2 roommates on campus and wasn’t in the main part of town very often. No one else seemed to notice that the youngest Fenton kid, who had noodles are arms and couldn’t be more than 16, radiated a sticky, staticy aura of danger. Maybe they’re used to it and didn’t realize but Craig couldn’t help but notice people didn’t stand too close to him and his people, let their eyes slide over and away from him.

The first few times, he thought he was being paranoid, picking up the residual anxiety from the crowd. But every time he shared a room with Danny Fenton, even in passing, he got the chills like someone was walking over his grave. Once he put two and two together, he started paying more attention and what he saw... well it added up to something he didn’t quite get.

Danny was quiet but alert. He always showed up every one of the planning meetings, even the ones Craig knew were adults only. He’d just slink on in and slouch in the corner with sharp eyes. Danny frowned at bad news and mumbled quietly to himself when thinking. As much as he put on the ‘bored teen’ act, to anyone paying attention it was clear that Danny was too. But no one was, Craig almost never saw him being shooed away even when other older, experienced towns figures were. Sometimes Craig wondered if they even noticed his presence in those meetings.

He had this presence about him that set Craig’s teeth on edge and made the hairs on his neck stand up and made him feel cold down to his bones. At first glance, he looked like any other teenager but the longer Craig watched him the more he noticed. The sickly pale and slightly green tinged skin. The dark, sunken quality to his eyes reminding Craig of museum mummies that scared him as a kid. His nails and teeth were just a bit too sharp, he moved a bit too fast and almost seemed to blur a bit on the edges. Craig had to stop studying Fenton directly not just because he knew the kid was onto him but he was getting seriously creeped out.

So the boy was a little haunted, he had a portal to hell directly underneath his bedroom. Craig wouldn’t be too shocked if there was some residual contamination with him. But that didn’t explain the ghosts.

Once Craig had stopped watching Danny, he watched how others reacted to him and that was it’s own mystery. While humans seemed to, consciously or not, avoid him, the ghosts sought him out. Horrifying and inhuman spectral beings had glanced over Mr and Mrs Fenton in favor of their son in the back corner. Time and again they appeared to tune out whatever to the experts were saying in favor of the kid who looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. And Danny would lock eyes back, sometimes rolling them, sometimes mouthing something Craig couldn’t catch. And more than once he’d peek into an empty room to find Danny surrounded by ghosts. Ghosts who gave him deferential space, who referred to him and only him by name, who seemed just as scared of Dan as Craig was.

Part of Craig wanted to pull Jazz aside and ask what was going on. What had happened to the cheeky, clingy little brother she used to fondly talk about? When had he become something barely human? Something unspeakably horrifying because he couldn’t place the source of the horror? But Craig also saw the way Jazz, and Danny’s two pals, looked at them. They were also sharp, alert, watching everything and everyone. His friends and him were practically attached at the hip. They’d lounge together, the girl putting her hand in Danny’s back pocket and the boy with a lazy arm over Danny’s shoulder. Like the mythical Cerberus, a three headed monster that operated as a single, deadly being.

Even Craig’s old pal Jazz who he occasionally exchanged emailed updates and memes with, looked ready to pounce on anyone who came near Danny. One time, when he was watching Danny, Jazz stepped into his view and gave him a gentle but firm shake of her head before pulling her brother away. Whatever was going on, Craig wasn’t invited and that was fine by him. After that, Craig just sort of stopped paying attention. He didn’t think about the Fenton boy. He carried a sweater constantly to avoid the occasional, completely ordinary, chill. He kept his head down and his mouth shut because he had realized something important. Whatever was going on in Ghost Land or Spooksville or whatever the fuck they calling that swirling mass of death in the Fenton basement, Danny Fenton was the key to fixing it.

A part of him, the part that wasn’t on edge and terrified, was upset by the idea of a kid being responsible for such an ugly mess. The other larger part wanted the kid to get things fixed pronto so Craig could speed back to his old, broken down apartment and pretend that Fenton’s eyes didn’t light up the color of green death when he stood too close to portal when he thought no one was thinking. He didn’t want to think on what else Fenton was up to when the humans weren’t around.

XxX

Croix did not like humans. However, working in a library close to the permanent human portal had made them learn to accept the presence of humans. Humans were digustingly linear and prone to horrifying acts of change but circumstances had drawn them together.

Croix knew they themselves had been human once, they didn’t know how long ago and didn’t bother to find out. Even their name was chosen postmortem, inspired by a book in his library. Being in the living world made his incorporeal form shutter with distaste. They did not belong here, especially not in the domain of the Phantom.

Oh they may not have left the Zone for at least a few centuries but everyone knew of the Phantom. Travelers spoke of him, books telling of his exploits began to fill the shelves of the library and Croix had found a unique fascination with the creature. They wondered what it must be like to possess the powers of the dead alongside the glorious and ruinous entrapment of the living. It was a conundrum, a mystery, and Croix was quite fond of those. They volunteered to serve as a referential resource in the War if only to study the abomination up front.

The Phantom was not at all like the stories made him out to be.

Croix had heard tales of his mist like hair, the color of bleached bones. They’d gasped reading about the swirling greens of his eyes which mirrored the human portal that had turned him into such a wretched thing. The white tipped claws, the mewling cavernous jaw filled with hundreds of teeth, the force of his fists amplified by a physical body of meat and sinew and bone. The boy before them was something of a disappointment. 

Oh he had the air of the dead about him, the scent of him like a fresh, still warm corpse. But otherwise he looked like any other filthy, nauseating human. It was hard to imagine this pathetic specimen had defeated Pariah Dark, had battled Undergrowth and Nocturne and Vortex and escaped with his core intact. But Skulker gave him his attention, his deference occasionally and that was no small feat. Despite his fearsome reputation as a hunter, Skulker had Croix’s respect as a someone who understood the value or research and study. Skulker often came to the library in search of information about his quarry. Skulker was how Croix had first heard of the Phantom.

Croix did not understand the point of the other humans. Yes, their world was threatened as much as Croix’s but they offered nothing but distraction and wasted time. Why could they not speak to the Phantom directly, as the representative of the human world who understood ghost custom, he did not understand. But he had been informed, before he crossed over the veil for the first time since death, that the other humans did not know of the Phantom’s true nature. So began a ridiculous pantomime.

Great and mighty ghosts listened to meat beings talk about idea they had no notion even of the scope while they discussed real battle plans with the Phantom, hidden from view. The Phantom scurried around the humans, acting small and pitiful while he back was tall, head high amongst the dead. As much as the living dead contradiction intrigued him, the actual being proved to be less interesting. It really was true, you never should meet the unmentionable monstrosity you have a vague fascination for. Oh well, Croix was unbothered. Death was unending, unchanging and interests were merely fixed moments in time which passed without care. Croix would simply find something else to pique their interest. Once the War was done.

Croix was sorting through some of their documents when they notice the Phantom and some other humans have come down to their chambers. Oh how they despised having to covert their collection to physical form. How burdensome to exist in one centralized space for the convenience of a species who haven’t bothered to find a way to circumnavigate death because they understand that living is too aggravating to do forever.

“We need some information,” one of the humans said. “What are the oldest documents you have on the Zone? How it formed, how it came to be?” Croix ignored them in favor of reviewing their documents. They tried to interact with the humans as little as possible, if the Phantom needed something he could address them properly without using meat proxies.

“Hey, ghost guy, we need that information now. We’re kind of on a time crunch here,” another said. Or perhaps the same one. Differentiating corporeal beings was quite exhausting and Croix had run out of patience for that decades ago. They kept reading over their books. There was a distorted crackle in the air and Croix glanced up at the Phantom.

"m̷̧̼̹̙͉̤͓͎̯͔̪̥̔̈́̓̈́̀̿̀̍̀̎ý̸̟̹͎͔̪̊́̄͝ ̴͖̯̻̹̩͉̩͎́̇̈͌̀͛̔̊́͂̃̕͠f̵̢̩͈̈́̒̂̓̎̓̈́̒͒̀̚͠r̸̗̗̭͎̘̻̪̈́̀̔́͆͑̊̈̇͐͂̃̅͜͝ĩ̵̛͈̞̪͇̤̪̰̮̲̐͗̈́̈̅͝͝e̸̡̛̲̮͚̫̭̩̼̗̎̂̿̔͝n̷̛̥͙̟̥͚̻̅̈̍̂͋̔̂͘͝d̶̹͐s̸̠̗̖͆̉͒̈́̀̏̂͛ ̷̹̤͖̘̺͉̈͋̿̉a̵̛̝̫̹̥̝͌͊͐̔̍͗̄̈́̊̿̋͘̚͠ś̴̢̱̲̫͙̪̩̟͖̠̒̈́̃͜͜͠ķ̵̧̡̗͎̭͔̝̰͔͖̹̣͖͚̆̊̍͊́̽̈̾̊̇́é̴͕̗͈̗̻͔̥͓̰͍͇̔̀́̉̓̽d̶̢̨̦̹̪͍̩̤̹̞̪̼̋͊͋ ̶̢̮̼̠̞̩̠̰̳̖͑̅͗̈́͐͘̕ÿ̷͚͎̞̫̱̥͉͈̮͒͊͠ͅỏ̸̡̞͚̘̖͍̞̘͚̦͓̞̗̠͆̅͘͜͝ụ̶̝͛̋͛̌̇̒ ̸̺͕̥̫͖̠̮̺̥̮͚͍͙̅́͋͛́̍a̶̖͓̩͇̋͐̓̂̈́̀̆̀͂̅ ̶̢͕͍̞̀̿͑̓q̶̨͔͔̖̬̗͈̟͙͓̱͉̱͔̘̓̒̎̀̍u̵̦̤̲̬͎͔̹̮͖͆̓̆̑͑͌̇̄̆̀̈́̚͠͝ȩ̶̱̬͉̹̥̘͙͉͚͔̗͍̯̇͒̾̍͠s̶̢̤͚͓̯͕͖͙̥̮̆̇̓͌̈́̽̏̐̚͝t̷͇͔͉̝̮̙͍̙̩̪̝̜̀͝ȋ̵̛͇̆͑͠o̵̳͂̃͌͌͆̊̾̈́̀͊͗͝n̴̢̛̙̤͍̯̬̠̥͔͓̽͗͜" the Phantom said in Ghost. His mortal shell only bore the faintest trace of humanity. But it wasn’t his body that had Croix feeling fear, genuine fear, it was the bright flashing of the Phantom’s core which was so bitterly, achingly cold. It reminded Croix, for a moment, of the chill of death coming for him. Of how his body, now long since dust, had felt in those last moments before it all went black. Centuries dead and yet the fear of death was breathing down his neck. Croix moved his head up but kept his eyes down.

“What information does the Phantom require?” Croix asked shakily, doing their best not to decoporealize into ectoplasm. Now they understood the myths, why the Phantom emerged victorious time and again. He may be a monster, a damnation, a blight upon the living and the dead... but he walked between and was a reminder to all of that bitter, frightful transition period. A core powered by that impossible, infinitesimal balance and yet.

“Danny, are you kids down here?” A voice, human, asked from elsewhere. the Phantom pulled back, the green fading to blue and the shadows returning to flesh.

“Yeah Mom, we’ll be up in a second,” he responded like he was just another normal human. Like he wasn’t the most terrifying, powerful creature in this plane or the next.

“Well what are you doing down here?” The voice sighed.

“Oh you know, looking around,” the Phantom grinned at Croix and his teeth were sharp as knives. Croix shakily handed over the documents the Phantom requested. They were old and very valuable but Croix was hardly going to deny a being with such power anything at this point. “We’ll be up in a second.” the Phantom called back, once more looking mostly human.

But he wasn’t, Croiz wasn’t entirely sure what he was but they wanted nothing to do with it. The Phantom and his humans left and Croix couldn’t help but wonder how he could move so quietly among the humans. Why did he play pretend when he could be a god? Croix had not been alive for a long time, had lost motivation for human desires such as greed and power but still. He wondered what the Phantom was like in his human skin, when the ghosts weren’t around. How did a wolf play the part of a sheep so well that they treated him as lesser? How did the sheep not sense that one who walked among could bite into their necks at any time?

Best not to think about really. This really wasn’t Croix’s area, they belonged in the library where everything was dead and simple. This, the world of the living and the horrifying shades that permeated from it, it wasn’t for him. They would keep their head down and their mouth shut until this war passed and they could flee back to where the laws of reality made sense. Where someone wasn’t both powerful and weak in the very same undead heartbeat.

[warcats-cat]

You say people can tell you about hyperfixations so be prepared to hear about 1964-1966 Addams Family tv show >:3

First: common misconceptions about the Addams Family-

“They like murder” they don’t! They do not condone violence, or anything non-consensual in their house. They may enjoy certain torture devices to relax, and the kids can chase each other around, but if someone doesn’t like it, it has to stop, and they don’t condone violence against monsters being presented as heroic, as seen in episode one

“They hate normal people!” Incorrect, they simply believe that they, as Addamses, are the epitome of normalcy, and that they seem to have a habit of running into “odd” people, like Mr Hilliard (a reoccurring character who is terrified of the Addams’). In fact, they happen to try their best with every “normal” person they meet, though it often fails comedically

“Gomez and Fester are brothers” no!!! That became cannon in the 90s! In the 60s Fester was Morticia’s uncle, and the twin brother of her mother, Hester Frump. Of course this makes Fester not an Addams, but his actual surname is unknown

“Wednesday is an outcast in her family and out” I genuinely have no clue how this came to be. Wednesday was the most Addams of the kids. While Pugsly was still very distinctly Addamsy, he had tendencies that lent more to the normal side. He was the blond haired, bright eyed kid of the Addams, and even in one episode went through a “normal” phase (joining the Boy Scouts, adopting a puppy, calling his parents mom and dad instead of mother and father, etc). Wednesday, however, is extremely Addams

Now, onto fun factssssssss

The actor for Lurch (Ted Cassidy) also was the primary actor for Thing! He only let someone else do it if Thing and Lurch were in a scene together.

Cassidy actually switched from left to right for Thing, to see if anyone would notice, so now there’s inconsistency between episodes.

Morticia and Gomez met when they were in their twenties, as their mothers were arranging a marriage between Gomez and Morticia’s older sister, Ophelia. Gomez was a sickly, cowardly man at this point, and Morticia wasn’t exactly taking the lead role we see her in for the rest of the show. They brought out the best in each other :3

Morticia’s iconic dress is her wedding dress!

Wednesday has a black widow that she named Homer, for its tendency to roam and explore

Pugsly has an octopus named Aristotle (though, in 2019 the animated movie renamed it Socrates for unknown reasons)

Unlike more recent adaptations, Wednesday was the youngest, at 6 years old, and Pugsly’s age was very inconsistent, but fluctuated between 8 and 10.

Their eccentric house decor was based of off the apartment of Addams family creator, Charles Addams

That is all for now :3 thank you ^-^

How did you know I love the Addams Family? This is delightful 😍😍😍

I remember watching the TV show with my dad when I was younger and just being in love with it. Even now, when I run tours at the store I work at, I have a couple of Addams Family themed jokes. (It's this place called Jungle Jim's, it's a massive eccentric international grocery store. We have a case for "exotic meats" and occasionally we do actually sell Yak burgers. I have not tried one though, because I don't like the texture of ground meat...)

I knew a few of these, but I have to say I'm really surprised that people thought Wednesday was an outcast?? I would never assume that???

Have you seen the Addams Family musical? 😍😍 That is sort of about Wednesday *feeling* like an outcast because she's fallen in love with a very "normal" boy from a "normal" family. Now the info about that misconception makes me wonder how the script writers came up with the show 👀👀

Also having twins named Hester and Fester had to be terrible if someone in the house had a cold and couldn't hear right 🤣 I'm already terrible with names, I'd never keep them straight.

Thank you for all the info 😍😍😍 I love it all!

[bwoahtastic]

Pure angst so feel free to ignore it.

Max being saved from is life as breeding Omega for Red Bull. He has little triplets, one of which very sickly, and 2 older pups too. The Pack is horrified to learn Red Bull kept him ndwas breeding him and the Pack definitely doesn't trust FIA to take care of Max and the pups and take him in.

Max being healthy but quiet, but very protective over his children and not letting anyone coming close. That is, until the youngest of the triplets, barely a year old, is getting more and more sick, meaning Max asks Daniel, who is on guard duty outside Max's little room to make sure no one tries ro take him back, for help.

Max having to go to the hospital with the pup, with seb going along, and Dan needs to stay and watch the kids with Charles?

oohhh plss!!

Maybe Dan, then racing at Red Bull, hears a little about what is happening and he alerts the others in the Pack, and they get poor Max and the pups out of the tiny apartment he had been kept in. Max having 2 sons of 4 and 6 year's old, as well as tiny triplets, all boys, who are barely a year old. The youngest of the triplets having always been a bit sickly, having problems with his lungs, but its getting worse as winter is coming in again.

They give Max a safe little apartment within the pack house, making sure he has his own space and letting him make lists with groceries he wants. He is very wary of them, expecting to be used for breeding again, but at least they give him food and let him stay with his kids for now so he is quietly resigned to his faith.

But the littlest of his babies is sick and he is just so scared, trying to get them better himself but failing, and just getting panicked as the little one's breathing is getting so wheezy...

Finally, he just stumbles out of his room in a panic and manages to tell Daniel what is going on even though he is so scared of Alphas. And Dan get seb, who brings Max to the hospital with the little one, but the other kids have to stay behind.

Daniel and Charles sitting with them because they obvs cant be alone, and they are scared at first but warm up slowly when Daniel and Charles play gamrs with them and make them food.

Max coming back with the little pup and an inhaler as the pup is astmatic, but luckily fine besides that. He hisses a lot when he sees Danadn Charles with his kids, but they seem happy and unhurt, and it hesitantly makes him relax....