#maternal disaster

[koolaidashley]

By god I love the disaster twins sm 😔😔

[ceilidhtransing]

The discussions around whether or not to vote for Kamala keep being dominated by very loud voices shouting that anyone who advocates for her “just doesn't care about Palestine!” and “is willing to overlook genocide!” and “has no moral backbone at all!” And while some of these voices will be bots, trolls, psyops - we know that this happens; we know that trying to persuade progressives to split the vote or not vote at all is a strategy employed by hostile actors - of course many of them won't be. But what this rhetoric does is continually force the “you should vote for her” crowd onto the back foot of having to go to great lengths writing entire essays justifying their choice, while the “don't vote/vote third party” crowd is basically never asked to justify their choice. It frames voting for Kamala as a deeply morally compromised position that requires extensive justification while framing not voting or voting third party as the neutral and morally clean stance.

So here's another way of looking at it. How much are you willing to accept in order to feel like you're not compromising your morals on one issue?

Are you willing to accept the 24% rise in maternal deaths - and 39% increase for Black women - that is expected under a federal abortion ban, according to the Centre for American Progress? Those percentages represent real people who are alive now who would die if the folks behind Project 2025 get their way with reproductive healthcare.

Are you willing to accept the massive acceleration of climate change that would result from the scrapping of all climate legislation? We don't have time to fuck around with the environment. A gutting of climate policy and a prioritisation of fossil fuel profits, which is explicitly promised by Trump, would set the entire world back years - years that we don't have.

Are you willing to accept the classification of transgender visibility as inherently “pornographic” and thus the removal of trans people from public life? Are you willing to accept the total elimination of legal routes for gender-affirming care? The people behind the Trump campaign want to drive queer and trans people back underground, back into the closet, back into “criminality”. This will kill people. And it's maddening that caring about this gets called “prioritising white gays over brown people abroad” as if it's not BIPOC queer and trans Americans who will suffer the most from legislative queer- and transphobia, as they always do.

Are you willing to accept the domestic deployment of the military to crack down on protests and enforce racist immigration policy? I'm sure it's going to be very easy to convince huge numbers of normal people to turn up to protests and get involved in political organising when doing so may well involve facing down an army deployed by a hardcore authoritarian operating under the precedent that nothing he does as president can ever be illegal.

Are you willing to accept a president who openly talks about wanting to be a dictator, plans on massively expanding presidential powers, dehumanises his political enemies and wants the DOJ to “go after them”, and assures his supporters they won't have to vote again? If you can't see the danger of this staring you right in the face, I don't know what to tell you. Allowing a wannabe dictator to take control of the most powerful country on earth would be absolutely disastrous for the entire world.

Are you willing to accept an enormous uptick in fascism and far-right authoritarianism worldwide? The far right in America has huge influence over an entire international network of “anti-globalists”, hardcore anti-immigrant xenophobes, transphobic extremists, and straight-up fascists. Success in America aids and emboldens these people everywhere.

Are you willing to accept an enormous number of preventable deaths if America faces a crisis in the next four years: a public health emergency, a natural disaster, an ecological catastrophe? We all saw how Trump handled Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico. We all saw how Trump handled Covid-19. He fanned the flames of disaster with a constant flow of medical misinformation and an unspeakably dangerous undermining of public health experts. It's estimated that 40% of US pandemic deaths could have been avoided if the death rates had corresponded to those in other high-income countries. That amounts to nearly half a million people. One study from January 2021 estimated between around 4,200 and 12,200 preventable deaths attributable purely to Trump's statements about masks. We're highly unlikely to face another global pandemic in the next few years but who knows what crises are coming down the pipeline?

Are you willing to accept the attempted deportation of millions - millions - of undocumented people? This is “rounding people up and throwing them into camps where no one ever hears from them again” territory. That's a blueprint for genocide right there and it's a core tenet of both Trump's personal policy and Project 2025. And of course they wouldn't be going after white people. They most likely wouldn't even restrict their tyranny to people who are actually undocumented. Anyone racially othered as an “immigrant” would be at risk from this.

Are you willing to accept not just the continuation of the current situation in Palestine, but the absolute annihilation of Gaza and the obliteration of any hope for imminent peace? There is no way that Trump and the people behind him would not be catastrophically worse for Gaza than Kamala or even Biden. Only recently he was telling donors behind closed doors that he wanted to “set the [Palestinian] movement back 25 or 30 years” and that “any student that protests, I throw them out of the country”. This is not a man who can be pushed in a direction more conducive to peace and justice. This is a man who listens to his wealthy donors, his Christian nationalist Republican allies, and himself.

Are you willing to accept a much heightened risk of nuclear war? Obviously this is hardly a Trump policy promise. But I can't think of a single president since the Cold War who is more likely to deploy nuclear weapons, given how casually he talks about wanting to use them and how erratic and unstable he can be in his dealings with foreign leaders. To quote Foreign Policy only this year, “Trump told a crowd in January that one of the reasons he needed immunity was so that he couldn’t be indicted for using nuclear weapons on a city.” That's reassuring. I'm not even in the US and I remember four years of constant background low-level terror that Trump would take offence at something some foreign leader said or think that he needs to personally intervene in some military situation to “sort it out” and decide to launch the entire world into nuclear war. No one sane on earth wants the most powerful person on the planet to be as trigger-happy and careless with human life as he is, especially if he's running the White House like a dictator with no one ever telling him no. But depending on what Americans do in November, he may well be inflicted again on all of us, and I guess we'll all just have to hope that he doesn't do the worst thing imaginable.

“But I don't want those things! Stop accusing me of supporting things I don't support!” Yes, of course you don't want those things. None of us does. No one's saying that you actively support them. No one's accusing you of wanting Black women to die from ectopic pregnancies or of wanting to throw Hispanic people in immigrant detention centres or of wanting trans people to be outlawed (unlike, I must point out, the extremely emotive and personal accusations that get thrown around about “wanting Palestinian children to die” if you encourage people to vote for Kamala).

But if you're advocating against voting for Kamala, you are clearly willing to accept them as possible consequences of your actions. That is the deal you're making. If a terrible thing happening is the clear and easily foreseeable outcome of your action (or in the case of not voting, inaction), in a way that could have been prevented by taking a different and just as easy action, you are partly responsible for that consequence. (And no, it's not “a fear campaign” to warn people about things he's said, things he wants to do, and plans drawn up by his close allies. This is not “oooh the Democrats are trying to bully you into voting for them by making him out to be really bad so you'll feel scared and vote for Kamala!” He is really bad, in obvious and documented and irrefutable ways.)

And if you believe that “both parties are the same on Gaza” (which, you know, they really aren't, but let's just pretend that they are) then presumably you accept that the horrors being committed there will continue, in the immediate term anyway, regardless of who wins the presidency. Because there really isn't some third option that will appear and do everything we want. It's going to be one of those two. And we can talk all day about wanting a better system or how unfair it is that every presidential election only ever has two viable candidates and how small the Overton window is and all that but hell, we are less than eighty days out from the election; none of that is going to get fixed between now and November. Electoral reform is a long-term (but important!) goal, not something that can be effected in the span of a couple of months by telling people online to vote third party. There is no “instant ceasefire and peace negotiation” button that we're callously overlooking by encouraging people to vote for Kamala. (My god, if there was, we would all be pressing it.)

If we're suggesting people vote for her, it's not that we “are willing to overlook genocide” or “don't care about sacrificing brown people abroad” or whatever. Nothing is being “overlooked” here. It's that we're simply not willing to accept everything else in this post and more on top of continued atrocities in Gaza. We're not willing to take Trump and his godawful far-right authoritarian agenda as an acceptable consequence of feeling like we have the moral high ground on Palestine. I cannot stress enough that if Kamala doesn't win, we - we all, in the whole world - get Trump. Are you willing to accept that?

And one more point to address: I've seen too many people act frighteningly flippant and naïve about terrible things Trump or his campaign want to do, with the idea that people will simply be able to prevent all these bad things by “organising” and “protesting” and “collective action”. “I'm not willing to accept these things; that's why I'll fight them tooth and nail every day of their administration” - OK but if you're not even willing to cast a vote then I have doubts about your ability to form “the Resistance”, which by the way would have to involve cooperation with people of lots of progressive political stripes in order to have the manpower to be effective, and if you're so committed to political purity that you view temporarily lending your support to Kamala at the ballot box as an untenable betrayal of everything you stand for then forgive me for also doubting your ability to productively cooperate with allies on the ground with whom you don't 100% agree. Plus, if the Trump campaign gets its way, American progressives would be kept so busy trying to put out about twenty different fires at once that you'd be able to accomplish very little. Maybe you get them to soften their stance on trans healthcare but oh shit, the climate policies are still in place. But more importantly, how many people do you think will protest for abortion rights if doing so means staring down a gun? Or organise to protect their neighbours from deportation if doing so means being thrown in prison yourself? And OK, maybe you're sure that you will, but history has shown us time and time again that most people won't. Most people aren't willing to face that kind of personal risk. And a tiny number of lefties willing to risk incarceration or death to protect undocumented people or trans people or whatever other groups are targeted is sadly not enough to prevent the horrors from happening. That is small fry compared to the full might of a determined state. Of course if the worst happens and Trump wins then you should do what you can to mitigate the harm; I'm not saying you shouldn't. But really the time to act is now. You have an opportunity right here to mitigate the harm and it's called “not letting him get elected”. Act now to prevent that kind of horrific authoritarian situation from developing in the first place; don't sit this one out under the naïve belief that “we'll be able to stop it if it happens”. You won't.

[followthebluebell]

Coco's babies have entered the shitten stage of kitten development. They know approximately how to use a litter box but are still learning. This is also around the point where they get dewormed, weaned off Coco's milk, and their maternal immune support starts wearing off.

This means their rooms are kind of disaster zones.

It's the perfect time to start crate training. They learn the crate is a cozy place to nap while I clean their rooms.

[amymbona]

hello amy🤗🤗🤗 i love your works so much

anyway i’ve been thinkin about how sweet and doting patrick and/or art would be when you’re sick🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ (im sick right now) they’d treat you so nice i just know it😖😖

-🎞️

Aww thank you babes! <3 I did a little thingy with Patrick some time ago, so you can check that out! :3

If Art came in, it would be slightly different, mainly because he is the maternal type, like literally. All the knowledge he has from his grandma, he's putting that to good fucking use - making you tea and soup, bringing you various painkillers, tablets for your sore throat and flu and whatever you have going on - like that man knows what's up.

He won't let you move a muscle, absolutely not. You remain in bed, right where you are, the covers pulled under your chin and wrapped around you so tightly that you can barely move, three pairs of socks on your feet.

"There you go, that looks better," he mutters, rubbing your forehead with a damp cloth, already seeing some hints of colour in your cheeks, "Pretty girl."

"Can you lay down with me, Artie?" you plead with a pout and he has a hard time resisting you.

One thing about Art, though, is that he's a responsible man. And he knows damn well that if he laid down with you, he'd get sick as well and who'd be there to take care of you two? Patrick? No no no, he's not letting that disaster of a guy enter your place.

"Nonsense baby, I'm here to take care of you, not to get sick too. C'mon, don't gimme that pout." he coos, his walls slightly cracking. But he has to remain strong. For you.

And then he's gone, presumably cleaning the kitchen where you left some mess last night. He's away for way too long to your liking, leaving you swaddled in the blankets like a baby that's expected to fall asleep soon. Only if you were able to actually fall asleep.

Art is acting more like a maid, literally ignoring you and taking care of your place instead. Humming to himself and insisting he helps, since you're bound to the bed. It pisses you off a bit, because all you need at the moment is his presence. So you yell out his name, a slightly distressed tone just to make it seem more dramatic, so he could be there as quickly as possible.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt? You gonna puke?" he's there within the blink of an eye, towel tucked behind the waistband of his jeans.

You groan, rolling onto your side. With a dramatically prolonged gesture, you raise a hand, beckoning him closer, "C'mere artie."

"What's wrong?" Art repeats as he moves closer, unable to see any signs of pain on your face.

And just as his hand wraps around your own, you pull him in with all the remaining strength in yourself. Art's body collapses onto your own, a soft gasp leaving his lips as he falls.

"Just stay here with me, okay? Don't walk away from me," you mutter, adding a small smile which you hope is enough to warm his heart, "Please."

Art's expression then melts, a soft grin spreading over his features as he realises that what you need the most at the moment, is his presence, and his comfort.

So he lays down next to you, takes you into his arms gently to run his hand over your back and through your hair, easing you into a content state of relaxation. With his tender motions and whispers of sweet nothings in your ear, it's nothing difficult for you to slip into the desired state of slumber, your worries slowly evaporating.

[agendabymooner]

of long lines and names || cl16 fic

charles leclerc x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

Summary: Aimee Yael and Charles Leclerc are too young to have five kids under six, but those boys became the life and memories that the couple wanted to keep forever. OR a series of scenarios during Aimee’s pregnancies that Charles remembered the most.

Content warning: Pregnancies with twins/five kids, dad!Charles and the grid uncles, based on Charles’ long name, a crying Charles, mentions of Anthoine Hubert, Niki Lauda, Jules Bianchi and the Leclerc dad (nothing too graphic nor personal, mostly based on their names only), loss/grief, Toto being a d-bag for a moment, possible use of explicit language, family-centric/dad!Charles-centric content, mentions of other Hearth sisters children (Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen)

Note: This will be a flop but I love these fictional Hearth-Leclerc kids. I love all of their kids! In fact, I have a series of spreadsheets dedicated to the Hearth sisters, and other characters and the names of their babies. Enjoy xx

masterlist

2024 — Hervé Louis Sebastien René Mathieu and Jules Lorenzo Blaise Pascal Timothé Leclerc

Aimee Yael Edmunson (Hearth) had never been stressed before. She had no reason to be. As a woman from a wealthy family — the granddaughter of Scottish billionaires and a daughter of an FIA executive — she had no reason to stress over the little things that were in the area of her control. Like her half-sisters, she had the money and intelligence to handle things well.

All except for the two little things in her womb that were continuously developing as the fourth month of her pregnancy went on. It was hard to hide it from everyone if you were to ask her. She had already spoken to her mother about carrying this amount of children in one go— Amara Louise Edmunson had only given birth to one child, and it was her. Nobody knew the struggle, but her mother had comforted her as much as she could. 

Aimee was calm despite the disaster that happened to be an unplanned pregnancy, her rational mind thinking that she shouldn’t be in some form of distress or discomfort to avoid any complications in her body. 

Her boyfriend, Charles Leclerc, thought otherwise.

When her body hit the ninth-week mark, there was already a tiny bump that someone might have seen as bloated. A natural one, no? But Charles was known to overthink things, and when he somehow got his prediction right, he had never cried so hard about having not only one— but two kids. He cried as if he was the one with the uncontrollable hormones. Aimee watched him cry empathetically, feeling grateful that she didn’t have this much anxiety that could risk her health and her babies. Still, she wondered if the tears he shredded were tears of joy or something else. 

Charles said he was happy, but at the same time, he thought of how their families would react— minus Pascale, Blanche and Amara.

When her body hit the seventeenth-week mark, they couldn’t hide it from their families any longer, hosting a dinner at their home in Monaco where Aimee did all of the cooking. Everything she made were cravings that became stronger as her first few weeks of pregnancy went on—rice, pasta and somehow a good selection of desserts and pastries that Charles ordered before the dinner. 

Welcoming each family member into the house wasn’t the most significant part of the dinner. The maternal figures of Charles and Aimee’s lives — Pascale, Amara and Blanche Ford — were on standby just in case someone decided to act differently towards the two. 

Stevie and Lewis Hamilton were clearly (too obviously) shocked at the protrusion in Aimee’s stomach but hadn’t made any comment on it for a while. They merely spoke about their daughter Lottie, who would cuddle with Roscoe whenever her little crawling body approached him. They were talking about their child, all while their eyes peered down on Aimee’s growing body. 

Sylvie and her fiancé Max Verstappen were surprised. Still, the model had managed to pass off her shock as excitement over the invitation to the couple’s new home before she tried to maneuver through the huge bump in the road— or rather, in Aimee’s body. Max tried asking Pascale and Amara about it by mouthing, “Is she actually?” only to receive a glare from them. Blanche scolded him quietly to keep it shut while she served him a drink. 

Charles dreaded inviting his brothers into his new home because they always picked their timing. When Arthur and Lorenzo Leclerc saw Aimee’s bulging figure, they immediately turned away and snorted aloud. Charles wasn’t this anxious about anything as exciting as this, but Arthur’s offhanded comment, “I’ll be attending your funeral when Toto finds out,” definitely had him recoiling. Pascale had to smack both her other children for scaring Charles off. Aimee nearly cried on the spot when Arthur made the joke, to which Charles returned to his composure and glared at his youngest brother for making her feel so shitty. 

The mentioned man and his wife were met at the front by the three maternal figures. Toto Wolff wasn’t typically this intimidated. He was usually level-headed, but how they stared at him while they welcomed the couple left him asking what was happening. Tilly seemed to sense some sort of protectiveness towards whatever it was, and when she had gotten a glimpse of it, her eyes sparkled at the sight of Charles’ hand over her little sister’s stomach. She wordlessly grinned before tugging her husband down on a seat right across the two. 

Toto couldn’t say a word if he were being truthful. The moment his eyes settled on the bulging stomach, his glare toward the Monegasque driver hardened. This was Toto’s nightmare, but it wasn’t as if he could just say that in front of the most overprotective women to have existed. So he threatened Charles wordlessly, passing words back and forth with other people while he glared at the Ferrari driver whenever he piped up. 

“So…” Toto started after finishing what seemed to be his second wine of the night. “Aimee, you’re pregnant. How long?” 

“Uh,” Aimee shifted uncomfortably, scared even to look Toto in the eyes. “Seven- seventeen weeks.”

“She’s seventeen weeks and four days—“ Charles was thrilled. He was. But the stare that Toto gave him immediately had his mouth shut as he looked back and only settled to hold his girlfriend’s hands underneath the table. “Four days,” he murmured to himself. 

“So explain how,” Lorenzo started but had given up halfway through, gesturing at Aimee’s stomach, “how has she grown this much if she’s only that much?”

“Yeah, about that,” Charles’ grin widened continuously as he announced, “We’re having twins.”

Aimee and Charles’ siblings were cheering for the couple as a series of hollering escaped their mouths. Pascale, Blanche and Amara were grinning from ear to ear while Toto… he was a man that was hard to please.

“Two?” Toto uttered, already pouring himself another glass of cabernet sauvignon. “And you two are… getting married?”

“What?” Arthur blurted out with an incredulous look, shooting in Toto’s direction. Sylvie and Stevie looked at each other, asking themselves, ‘what the fuck is he on?’ 

“Uh no,” Charles nervously laughed, but no one seemed to understand the memo when Toto glared at him as the Monegasque muttered, “but I suppose this is a wrong answer to say aloud.” 

“We’re not going to get hitched,” Aimee laughed in confusion, “why do we have to?”

“Because you’re pregnant?”

“Do we have to get married?” Aimee looked at Tilly for some help.

Tilly, sensing the discomfort from the pregnant woman, reached to pinch her husband in his side, eliciting a groan from him as she glared, “No, you don’t have to.” 

“Yeah, you don’t,” Sylvie glared at Toto. “Tils and Toto didn’t get married until Tia came along.” 

“So, you’re just going to be waiting for the fourth child to be out until you marry?” Arthur asked bluntly, leaving him to cower when Stevie, Lorenzo and Sylvie shot him a look of annoyance. “Oh mon dieu, je pose juste une question.” Oh my god, I’m just asking a question. 

Toto wasn’t sold at the thought of his youngest in-law being pregnant with another driver’s children. He’d seen Stevie get married off to his own driver, Lewis, and it still never sat right with him to witness them being married or having a family with some men. Charles could agree on the same thing, because if his hypothetical daughter was to be courted and even have a boyfriend he wasn’t sure how he would act either. 

He didn’t think that he would have the same problem with vice versa until he found out that Aimee was carrying two boys. He wondered how to prevent them from having girlfriends or boyfriends at an early age because he was certain that Aimee would just play mother of the groom on the pretend wedding that the boys would have at a young age. 

But his worries withered away when he held Hervé and Jules for the first time. He could still remember realizing how strong they were from the grip they had on his fingers. He could still remember the sight of Aimee crying after she introduced them to their father— not wanting to see Charles cry again due to the tribute that she had given to Charles’ family that passed years ago.

Perhaps it was a good idea that she did the crying this time; she deserved it after watching him have a breakdown over the little things that he didn’t need to worry about — and Charles needed to have the backbone for thinking himself as a shitty father for his unborn children. 

“What’re their names?” Esteban almost laughed after seeing Charles stare at Pierre mindlessly. It really wasn’t a good idea for Gasly to have Charles repeat the babies’ names all over again especially when the Monegasque was way too tired for his friends’ bullshit.

Mick kicked Pierre lightly with a hush, rocking the baby in his arms as he quietly asked, “Do you not listen or do you just live to piss your best friend off?”

Charles glared at Pierre, whose smile stood out as he giggled. Scoffing quietly, Charles gestured to the boy in his arm, “Jules Lorenzo Blaise Pascal Timothé.”

Then he nudged his head at Mick’s direction before he introduced the other twin, “and the boy in Mick’s hold is Hervé Louis Sebastien René Mathieu.”

“Sorry, I didn’t listen, Shal can you—“ 

“Oh my fucking god. Shut the fuck up, Pierre.”

“I’m kidding,” Pierre snorted as he quietly cackled. “What do you call them though?” 

2026 — Sacha Niki Pierre Philippe Leclerc

Torger Wolff promised that he wasn’t going to squash Charles Leclerc’s head until it popped once that Hervé and Jules Leclerc were born. 

He loved his nephews after all and spoiled them as much as their Uncle Toto could. He made sure the boys had their bunk beds prepared at the Wolff home in Monaco or England just in case they came for a sleepover with his son Adelmo and his niece Lottie Hamilton — who were just about the same age as the twins. He spoiled them equally. 

But god, was he ever ready to get rid of their Da the moment he received a text from the Monegasque with the words, “She’s pregnant.” 

“Morning, Sainz, is your stupid teammate in the office?” Toto didn’t even listen to the Spanish man’s answer as he continued to make his way to Fred Vasseur’s in-site office at the Scuderia Ferrari area. “Charles Leclerc! I’ve warned you once—“

The Ferrari team principal turned to look at the entryway of his office with a scowl, crossing his arms in annoyance. Toto wasn’t even in his team’s area and he was still acting like he shouldn’t have to knock at the damn door. The man that he was addressing, however, was teary eyed when he turned to look at Toto. 

“Is this your third or fourth?” Toto asked, still glaring at the Monegasque. 

“Third,” Charles wanted to smile but the last thing he wanted to do was die in this damn motorhome. In the hands of Toto Wolff, of all people.

“And no ring?” Toto then found him holding whatever in his hand, peering down as his mouth opened slightly. 

In Charles’ hand was a gold ring, ruby sitting on top of it as he clutched on it tightly. It wasn’t just a gold ring. From what Toto had learned, it was Aimee’s grandmother’s engagement ring. 

“I was— proposing to her—“ Charles sobbed quietly, a smile now resting on his face as he begged himself not to ugly cry in front of the Mercedes team principal. “Then she said Herb and J were going to be big brothers. I was on my knees, Toto! I promise! I want to propose first but she just spewed that— oh god, I have three children now.” It didn’t even dawn on him that he was about to have three under five until he cut himself off. 

Then he was just crying hysterically in the middle of the office with Carlos barging in frantically. “What the hell, Charles?! Are you okay?” 

Toto smiled proudly at the Monegasque driver, clapping him on the back before he shrugged at Carlos Sainz and Fred. “Don’t worry about him,” Toto replied quietly to the other men, “he’s having his third child, that's all.”

Carlos and Fred were confused and scared. They weren’t sure if it was because of Charles’ breakdown on the floor of the Ferrari team principal’s office or if it was because of Toto’s calm demeanour. But regardless, if Toto said not to worry, then so be it. 

Baby Boy Leclerc was written on his little hospital bassinet. But Toto got the first glimpse of his birth certificate. 

Sacha Niki Pierre Philippe Leclerc.

Toto had no reason to be upset. He wasn’t. He was just as equally as annoyed at himself when he realized how overprotective he was when it came to Aimee - who, as of this point, had already given birth to her third baby. He had no reason to be protective especially when she was doing a damn good job at protecting her two children. Now, he had the chance to witness her protect Sacha — the boy that they named after Niki Lauda, who happened to be close to the Hearth sisters before he passed. 

Like Tilly’s second pregnancy, Aimee and Charles welcomed their son to the world with wedding bands in their fingers. Pierre almost had a stroke watching Charles boast about his wife and their third son— but the final nail in the coffin had something to do with Sacha Leclerc having Pierre as a namesake. It wasn’t everyday Pierre got to pass out over such a small thing— but to be a namesake and named the godfather of the child? Yeah, Pierre Gasly would boast about him too. 

Arriving back home was easy. However, according to the Leclerc children’s grid uncles, writing down the boy’s name into the banner (which said, “Welcome Baby Sacha Niki Pierre Phi—(with a gap) lippe”) was quite complicated. They had done a good job with the twins’ welcome banner two years ago, but according to them their handwriting got too sloppy. 

Lando groaned quietly, “Don’t give them such a long name next time. Look at Max! His name is just Max.” 

Max Verstappen reached for a balloon on the floor before hitting Lando with it, “It’s a Leclerc thing to give them six names, of course they have to have the long name.”

“Oi, don’t make fun of my name,” Charles called out from the kitchen, pouring his two boys some glasses of apple juice the toddlers babbled in protest against their Uncle Max’s response. “Even H and J aren’t happy with what you said. You’re not being kind to your own nephews the more you make fun of me.” 

Pierre chuckled, sitting next to Aimee as she fed Sacha. The Frenchman said, “I’m so convinced that those two are Charles’ minis.” 

“They are becoming more like their Da as days go on,” Aimee pulled her tank top’s strap back on and began to burp Sacha. “I’m so outnumbered as of this point.”

“Baby PJ’s going to be like his Oncle Pierre, I can tell you that much,” Pierre smugly said, reaching out to caress Sacha’s cheek as he said, “I’ll be his big mentor and I’ll make sure his Da doesn’t have much influence on him.”

“His name is Sacha, Pierre,” Aimee rolled her eyes. Pierre, from the moment he was told of Sacha’s full name, had decided that the baby’s nickname was PJ — or Pierre Junior. He hadn’t even held the baby yet when he walked in the room but he had already staked his claim and declared Sacha as a Mini Pierre. “And you said the same thing to Herb and Jules when you met them, look how they turned out. They’re so much like Charles.”

“We all have our trials and errors,” Pierre mumbled, “and you know what they say— third times a charm. Maybe PJ will be the same.”

2029 — Anthoine Charles Elio Perceval and Alain Marc Léonard Arthur Leclerc

“You have quite some swimmers,” Pierre cackled hysterically, slapping Charles in the chest as he tried to get his shit together instead of laughing at the fact that his best friend has five children under seven. He really couldn’t when he had to remind himself that Aimee had given birth to another set of twins just a day ago. 

Charles began to curse at him in French, already exasperated after the long night that Aimee had. She had a labour that lasted longer than the previous pregnancies that she went through and it annoyed her more than it made things painful. Charles’ five year olds and his three year old son were fussing about not being around their mother for longer than two minutes and were already on the way to the hospital with their Mamé Pascale and Mamma Blanche, eager to meet their little brothers. 

Pierre, Max, Lewis, and Mick were all standing in front of the glass window of the hospital nursery with Charles, eyes all trained on the twin boys that slept peacefully alongside other infants. Charles never wondered, but he was always surprised that Aimee was this strong to even give birth to five of their children— fuck that, she had given birth to five of his boys. He couldn’t even find himself to swear to his best friend when he was too busy loving the shit out of his newborn sons. His boys. 

On the men’s left was Anthoine Charles Elio Perceval, whose personality was already showing by the way his resting face wrinkles to a scowl. Pierre couldn’t afford to cry over the tribute to their friend who passed years ago that all he did was laugh at his best friend’s experiences in fatherhood. He could just cry later on, the Frenchman told himself while he continued to pester Charles about his five sons. 

Next to Anthoine’s bassinet was Alain Marc Léonard Arthur, whose soft smile had the men outside the nursery melting as he cooed softly and shifted around. Charles and the others could tell that out of the two of them, Alain would be the one to stop the Ferrari driver from ripping his hair out.

Anthoine would most likely give Charles a run for his money and raise hell with Hervé and Jules. 

Alain would be the one to be as angelic as PJ — whose nickname stuck after Pierre continued to visit the boys every other week — and his mother Aimee, whose youthful glow remained despite entering her motherhood five years ago. Aimee wasn’t that outnumbered after all.

Max scoffed next to Pierre, “You wouldn’t be saying that if you hadn’t known anything about protection.”

“I’ve had practices,” Pierre winked at Max, making the Dutchman grimace. “Just no luck yet. It’s not as if I’m shaming Charles for it.”

“Five kids are better than none,” Lewis shrugged, still looking at the twins on the other side of the window. “How you’ve done it— fuckin’ beats me— but I sure as hell am jealous.”

“Never hurts to try for one more,” Charles chuckled. “You really think Lottie and Leland would be satisfied to have each other? It doesn’t really make a good playhouse squad.”

Lewis huffed, “They’ve already got your boys, Adelmo and Max’s Millie. I don’t think Steve would appreciate having to push out one more.”

“What about you, Max?” Mick joked before nudging the Dutchman with a smirk. “Opting for one more?” 

“I’ve got a girl,” Max deadpanned, “and I’ve another one on the way. I’m not the kind to be greedy but I think Millia and Lila would make good big sisters to a little brother, don’t you think?”

“Are you two settling for the little girl’s name then?” Pierre asked. “Lila?” 

“Poor Sylvie doesn’t even have a child named after her,” Mick laughed. 

“She named our daughter Emilia,” Max defended himself, “I didn’t ask her to name the girl Emilia. She just said it’s too damn pretty.”

“Besides, Max isn’t really known for giving things good names,” Lewis teased. “Last I checked he wanted to call Emilia ‘Jane’.” 

“Fuck off, Sylvie loves Jane Austen,” Max scoffed, shoving Lewis slightly when the British man laughed. “Besides, her name would have been Blue or something.”

“All jokes aside,” Lewis paused before clapping Charles on the back. “I’m pumped to see your bunch hanging out with their cousins. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Four months,” Max murmured. “It’s been four months for all of us.”

“I know,” Charles rolled his eyes. “H and Jules are looking forward to the Australian GP— they’ve been wanting to wreak havoc in the paddock since Abu Dhabi.”

“Those kids of yours need to lose that energy,” Pierre chuckled. “Have you ever taken them for a walk?” 

“I always take them out for a walk,” Charles muttered. They just have a bad habit of running away from their Da. All the freaking time.

Speaking of.

“Da!” 

“Look at those little devils go,” Pierre and the other men turned to the direction of the sound of running feet, hoisting little PJ up in his arms while the eldest Leclerc children ran towards their father, who had immediately lifted them up and pressed a kiss on their cheeks. 

“Where are they? Where are they?” Hervé and Jules tried to keep their voices down, as they were told by their Mamé before they entered the hospital— begging their dad to show them the newborn babies as he pointed through the window.

“Oncle P,” Sacha reached for his godfather’s scruffy face as he murmured, “où est Maman?” Where’s mom? 

“Elle dort comme un bébé,” She’s sleeping like a baby. Pierre whispered to the boy, now pointing to the babies as he continued, “Like your little brothers.”

“Mm? Mais il ne dort pas,” But he’s not sleeping. Sacha pointed at the baby to the right. “He’s no sleeping?”

“He looks like you, Da. Look,” Jules pointed and said in awe while grinned at his father. “And he does too!” 

“He’s like me and Jules!” Hervé exclaimed in amusement. “They look the same, Da!” 

“Yes they do,” Charles grinned, “because they’re like you two. Twins!” 

“How come I don’t have twin?” Sacha asked, slumping against his Oncle Pierre. Max and Lewis turned to the boy and offered him a soft smile. 

Mick then reached out, “It’s better that you don’t,” he joked, “you’re one of a kind, little PJ.” 

“But he won’t have any driving partner for Ferrari?” Hervé protested in annoyance. Charles laughed at this. His sons were born to be Ferrari drivers, said once by Sebastian Vettel. They were born to a Ferrari driving father and a mother who worked for McLaren. Even the amount of papaya outfit never stopped the Leclerc children from aspiring to become the Prancing Horse’s next generation of drivers. 

All but one. Sacha turned to look at his eldest brothers and said, “Me and L’land are driving for Mercedes!” 

“No! You’re driving for ‘Rari, ‘member, PJ?” 

“Mummy said I can drive for anyone,” Sacha pulled himself away from Pierre’s chest for a second to cross his arms, pouting at his eldest brothers. “I wan’ drive for ‘Cedes!” 

Lewis looked at Charles with approval all over his face, obviously cocky at the statement made by the three year old.

“You don’t want to drive for Alpine like your Oncle P?” Pierre asked, goading his godson into joining his team.

“Hm, maybe! But I wanna be like Uncle Lew and Da!” 

“Mon chou, you are like Da,” Charles grinned widely. “You and your brothers are mini Charles.” 

Seeing his sons now — the two that he held in his arms, the toddler that Pierre had on his own pair and the other two that were just born yesterday — had him thinking about the importance of their names and their existence. Charles didn’t seem to think of himself as someone so sentimental, but his life with Aimee seemed to change his viewpoint. He valued his family more than he did before. 

He didn’t care much about carrying the family name as long as he could remember where his sons’ names came from. 

If his eldest asked, he was more than willing to tell them a story about how Hervé and Jules got their names from their late grandpa and uncle. If PJ asked, then Charles and Aimee would sit him down to tell the boy about Aimee’s Uncle Niki and great grandfather Philip Hearth. And someday when his youngest grew curious, he’d tell them all about Charles’ good friend Anthoine and a French driving legend named Alain Prost. 

He’d sit them all down to let them know about the people that he and Aimee loved and how they loved to keep their memories alive through the boys. 

But for now, Charles Leclerc was quite content with nurturing his boys with his wife. He was only looking forward to caring for Aimee Leclerc and their children. Then maybe someday, the Leclerc bunch would grow to care for their mother too.

[shoujo-wizard]

@lexirosewrites here's the ask i told you i've been putting too much detail into, i call it Haunting of Harrington House it's more details on the ask i sent quite awhile ago of a/b/o steddie haunted house AU this is very long so it is under the cut

it involves slightly better harrington parents, but they still aren't the best the emotional neglect is very present, it isn't very steddie or buckingham coded yet so i didn't tag it as either these r just broad initial details

O!Steve A!Robin

Steve grew up in a relatively cosmopolitan town in Washington near Seattle. His father and mother were big shot lawyers with little time for him. He was mostly a check on the to-do list for a "picture perfect" marriage, his designation as a male omega wasn't unexpected or shunned as the Harrington family apparently had a long history of male omegas. But they were still much too busy so every school break they'd dump him at his maternal grandparents house a few towns away. When there wasn't a school break he was primarily in the care of a nanny till his 15th birthday when it was deemed he knew how to take care of himself & be safe abt it.

He grew up learning next to nothing about his paternal grandparents aside from what was essential to a family tree project here & there. Steve knew his middle name, Oliver, came from his great-grandfather & tht said great-grandfather was a male omega as well. Richard Harrington never divulged more than the necessary information that Steve needed for school: his grandfather's name was Elijah Harrington, his grandmother's name was Amelia Smith before she married Elijah, his ancestors were some of the first settlers of the area that would grow into Hawkins, that his grandparents lived there their entire lives

Well time passed as it's wont to do, Steve graduated high school & decided to study Library Sciences as a long-term goal. Despite their estranged relationship his parents were supportive of this choice, but his father drew the line at looking at schools in Indiana. Richard told Steve he'd left Indiana & specifically Hawkins for a reason. He never told his son what tht reason was.

Steve thrived in college, getting a Bachelor in Information Science eventually getting into a Masters program that would earn him a Masters in Library Science thus allowing him to begin working as a librarian. In his Masters program he met A!Robin & they instantly bonded after a disaster of a Socratic seminar where they ended up on the same side of a heated debate abt the legacy of the Library of Congress. When Steve graduates his parents r nowhere to be found even tho they'd promised & even shared w him their travel plans tht would get them there on time. So he goes thru the motions of celebration till he gets a call from an unknown number. It's the police, his parents had been involved in a serious car accident after swerving to avoid a drunk driver. They'd both been pronounced dead at the scene. His parents were dead.

The next two weeks r filled with meetings with his parents lawyer, finding appropriate coffins, alerting business partners & friends alike to the deaths, & then getting acquainted with their will. The will stated that if Steve was 20+ upon their death their house would go up for sale. They'd left certain things to business partners, certain things to friends, and the rest was Steve's to do w as he pleased. he sells much of it, keeps some of it. Among what was left to Steve is the deed & blueprints & keys to a house in Hawkins Indiana. 

Well, he'd always been curious & there was no more childhood home waiting for him so he gets Robin to agree to come with him to the town he'd never been to before. They get in his car & go on a road trip. They arrive in Hawkins days later & stop at a diner they happen to find on Google maps before making the final trek to the mystery Harrington house.

They come upon a historic mansion from the Gilded Age. It's unmistakably in need of work. The windows r dark & the key gets stuck before working. The electricity buzzes & blinks before coming on reliably. There's furniture covered in white sheets in nearly every room. The kitchen hadn't been updated since the 1950s. The drawing room has covered paintings, covered furniture, a large fireplace clearly meant to impress, & nearly empty bookcases built into one wall. There is no television but an antique radio as well as a 70s record player in the sitting room. There's a second fireplace in the sitting room tht is just as gorgeous but clearly meant for the personal use of the family. There's an entire personal library past the sitting room & the platonic pair r apprehensive of the state of the books on the shelves. The library is two stories with a spiral staircase leading up. Another staircase directly opposite the foyer leads up to the second floor of the mansion. The blueprints show a total of five bedrooms & three bathrooms on the second floor with the third bathroom being an ensuite to the master bedroom. There's a staircase w a door at the top leading to the attic/servants quarters. They test the faucets in the kitchen & after some noise & undeniably stale water it works. The fridge clearly needs to b replaced & the oven & stove top r dubious at best. They find the master bedroom has a gorgeous antique nesting frame tht Robin thinks might date to the 1910s. Neither wants to chance the old mattress so they roll out their sleeping bags next to eachother & settle as comfortably as they can on the hardwood floor. 

That night Steve dreams. 

He stands in the garden behind the mansion. The lights r all on, & he can see shadows moving within as if a party is taking place. He's in the pajamas he wore to sleep & his feet r getting cold. But every effort he makes to get to the house makes him sink into the dirt. Just as his head is abt to b submerged beneath the soil he wakes up.

They eventually end up committing to using Steve’s inheritance to restoring/renovating the mansion. The dreams do not stop. In fact when he begins sleeping in the master bedroom alone the dreams get worse. More vivid and more confusing.

It all hits the fan not long after Steve has his first heat in the mansion. He comes out of his heat a little worse for wear bc he kept dreaming in between waves of horniness & moments of care from Robin. The dreams were not the pleasant wet dreams he’d always had during his heats. He could not remember any of them, but he always awoke with a rabbiting heartbeat searching the room for eyes he knew wouldn’t be there.

So he’s a little anxious but has to get over it quickly because they had carpenters coming in to reinforce various areas tht needed the help tht week, the electricity and wiring was already renovated and up to code. Context: they’d been working with local companies through this entire process, and the workers always smelled a little nervous whenever they were around. Neither of them asked because they got the feeling they wouldn’t get a straight answer. So these workers come in to do their job. The last area they needed to work on is the attic/servants quarters. These are big people, strong people, most of them alphas, but they all stood at the bottom of the stairs to the attic psyching each other up to go up there. Eventually they go up, begin working, all is quiet for half an hour, then suddenly every single one of the workers in the attic are charging down the stairs and stampeding out of the mansion.

i haven't exactly finished this thought but im now cooking up an entire fic

[katakaluptastrophy]

So, it's the last days and a weird-looking guy called John is yelling about the end of the world.

AKA, it's Advent and we've reached the stage of Alectopause where I'm apparently writing Bible studies for the weird goth teens that hang out in graveyards... So let's talk about portentious guys called John and why a nun might have joined a necromancy cult.

Anyway, you know Advent, the cheerful and cozy time when we all think about cute baby Jesus as we get ready for Christmas, right?

WRONG

It's currently the second Sunday of Advent, and in lots of churches that follow the liturgical year, people will have been hearing about John the Baptist today (Me: "John". My phone: "Gaius?". Me: "John the-". My phone: "Necromancer?").

Without going into too much detail, John the Baptist is important because he's a prophet that points to the coming of Jesus. He first does this rather impressively in utero, but is probably best known for wandering the wilderness wearing camel hide and eating locusts, shouting about how the end is nigh and, hence the name, baptising people to cleanse them from their sins. People are pretty impressed by all this and start asking him if he is the promised messiah or one of the great prophets come again. He answers no, his job is to point towards one greater than him. He baptises Jesus, the heavens open, and not long afterwards John annoys the authorities and ends up with his head on an ornamental platter.

Now John the Baptist obviously isn't the main Biblical John evoked by John Gaius. That dubious honour probably goes to the beloved disciple John the Apostle, also known for The Gospel According To and The Apocalypse Of, aka the Book of Revelation, the Bible's account of the end of the world.

But John the Baptist (no, autocorrect, not "John the Necromancer") is relevant too, and not just because he's a guy called John, chosen by a higher power to lay the groundwork for better things to come and who falls afoul of the authorities with dramatic consequences.

Let's cycle back round to Advent for a moment. The reason Advent can both be aww cute little baby Jesus and also WHERE ARE YOU GOING WHEN YOU DIE?! is because in Christian theology, Jesus' birth and the end of the world are linked: the first and the second coming of Christ.

In Nona The Ninth, we learn that John and his friends are living in a world on the edge. Without some incredible plan - the cryo ships, the promise of FTL - everyone is going to die. Humanity has rendered the world uninhabitable. Although we get very few details of the broader geopolitical situation, we have to assume it's one rife with natural disasters and conflict.

In the Bible, Jesus talks about a world with famines and earthquakes, wars and rumours of wars, where to find yourself in those days with children would be a tragedy and to be pregnant even worse (maternity problem, anyone?). Specifically, this is when he talks about the signs of the end of the world and his second coming.

So what about M-'s nun? The first time we meet her is when she's advising John against his all-day Jesus Christ Superstar healing ministry.

And John's anxiety about meeting her is pretty apt. He says: "I was worried I was going to get the Antichrist bit from her too". Note the "too" - by this point, John has already been accused of being the Antichrist. Why? Because alongside those rumours of wars and earthquakes, Jesus gives another sign to watch out for: false prophets.

But M-'s nun saw John and his powers and - for reasons we never learn - believed they were miraculous, a gift from God. She appealed to the Vatican to investigate and recognise this. And her presence and this campaign apparently made a significant impact in reducing some of the issues they were facing. Somehow, she met awful, smarmy John and his corpse buddies and thought she was seeing the hand of God miraculously at work in the last days.

This bears repeating, because I've seen suggestions that she believed he was God, or was somehow converted to the cause of necromancy, but at least by John's narrative it's much simpler than that: right to the end she's praying for him in very Catholic terms to find clarity in his purpose.

This is the last we see of her:

She just smiled at me. She said, John, don’t misunderstand. I want to help you. I truly believe that in our most terrible hours we don’t instinctively reach out to God; we push ourselves away from Him. Don’t feel bad for not rising heroically to the occasion right now. Fear doesn’t help us achieve a state of grace; it deafens the heart. John, I truly believe you can save everyone. So concentrate, please. She said, Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. And she shot herself.

While obviously you are probably not walking a straightforwardly orthodox path if you're shooting yourself to help the leader of a self-proclaimed necromancy cult locate the soul, her language here is very focused on the Catholic understanding of sin and death. A "state of grace" refers to the condition of your soul when it's not burdened with serious sins. It's the state you're in after you're baptised or after you've been to confession. Being in a state of grace is one's soul being on a wavelength with God; it's the necessary state to enter heaven.

And the Hail Mary? Catholics believe that Mary has the power to intercede for them with God. And the most important moment at which she could intercede would be at the point of death where the state of your soul determines your eternal destination. This isn't a wacky necromancy cultist talking. I suspect she sees this less as a suicide (which the Catholic Church has historically not had the most nuanced views on...) than a fulfilment of Jesus' teaching to keep his commandments and that there is no greater love than to lay down your life for your friends.

We're not privy to exactly what she thought, and I don't think anyone's suggesting her approach was entirely orthodox, but if he's not the Second Coming, and he's not the Antichrist, and there are wars and rumours of wars and floods and earthquakes...did she see him as a prophet of the apocalypse? A sort of John the Baptist of the end times, who in demonstrating the reality of the soul would bring people to Christ before He came again?

Unfortunately for M-'s nun, John was not what she fervently believed him to be. And unlike John the Baptist, who said no when asked if he was something he was not, John used M-'s nun's death as a springboard to claim the trappings of both divinity and Catholicism for himself.

Unfortunately for John, judgement is coming in the form of an angry teenager Harrowing Hell and the very power he usurped, armed with a very big sword.

[hotd-brainrot]

Forever crying over the fact that if Rhaenyra was more politically/socially savvy, she could have befrended her siblings right away.

Sure, Alicent would try and stop her, but like. She is a princess and an heir and her father would definitely approve? So have Aegon cling to her and get the validation he craves? (At that point, I am not even saying she genuinely has to care, but just. Lie woman, for the love of god, and she has enough maternal instinct she'd probably end up caring for real) and Aegon didn't want to marry Helaena. If he and Rhaenyra were close, she'd know that and she could have found him a different match and proposed it to Viserys privately? And if Aegon was for it, I feel like Alicent's hands would have been tied?

Helaena would have been so easy to please, like. She could have even figured out the dragon dreams. Besides, if the arranged match with Aegon worked, her offer to marry Helaena to Jace would have worked sm smoother. Sister bonding in general!

Aemond? For the love of god, stop him being bullied, now you are close to Aegon and the rest are your kids. Encourage Aemond to become a knight. He may or may not still claim Vhagar but REGARDLESS, encourage him to train. And then later you can even suggest he becomes one of the white cloaks. Which would be an honor bc like. Being part of the Queen's guard? You give him your highest trust? And also, no additional heirs as well, which YOU'D want in that position?

For Daeron, idk if one can become a maester with a dragon, but even if he can't, fostering him in Old Town seems decent, encourage him to be a poet, to spread his wings(hah) away from the court. You have his siblings' affection anyway, so he is unlikely to dislike you either way.

Besides like. Show! Alicent seems very fond of Rhaenyra, and I feel like if she saw Rhaenyra genuinely bond with everyone, her fears of Rhaenyra getting rid of them would have dissipated? And even if not, like. As much as I love Alicent, Rhaenyra didn't need her to necessarily win over her siblings. Especially with Otto gone from the court.

(Also do not get rid of Laenor, for the love of god, you NEED him to claim those are his kids, fuck your uncle to the side if you must, but do not get rid of Laenor before Luke's inheritance is secured, ffs)

Just!!! God. I know it isn't Rhaenyra's style but man, I wish it was bc it could have prevented a disaster 😭

[astrology-by-sita]

ON CANCER RISINGS ♋️

This is a part of series on the rising signs, not necessarily in Zodiacal order.

So this is something I have pondered about. Cancer placements - since they're ruled by the moon - represent the 3 faces of the Moon Goddess : Maiden, Mother and D*eath-crone. Cancers might suffer mood swings and anger issues etc because they remain stuck in one of these phases, mostly the Mother.

Also it's independent of gender - Maiden, Mother etc are just energies, or attitudes. And it has nothing to do with age either. Again it's just an energy. Some are old and still stuck in the Mother phase while other younger cancers have already embodied the Crone.

Maiden : Cancers have Leo in the 2nd house of values. The maiden is free spirited and curious. She gives value to creativity and self expression. She wants to discover the world and explore everything. She doesn't want to remain stuck in her family's house or confined between four walls.

The Maiden wants to go out and have fun and fall in love. The maiden does not want to be tied down by familial obligations, so she isn't about nurturing or maternal energy. The spirit of youth is the Maiden, the eternal spring where playfulness and fun take over.

The Mother : Cancers have Scorpio 5h. When does the Maiden transform (Scorpio)? You guessed it - when she becomes a Mother (5h of children). It doesn't have to do with biological motherhood or procreation. 5h is also falling in love - anything that's close to your heart and you love passionately. It can be children, partner, property, house, money, etc...

Once cancers stop being the Maiden (exploring and having fun) and start to seriously care about stuff and people, they attach and refuse to detach. As the Mother clings to her children, cancers cling to anything they love and refuse to let go. They are likely to treat a loved one like their own child. They can be quiet possessive over everything they hold dear (again, Scorpio 5h).

Cancers have Sagittarius in the 6th house. The 6th house is rules and regulations which civilization sets. The routines, grind, discipline, submission, obedience, schedules, strictness, all "nitty gritty" of human daily life can contain humans but not Mother Nature. Sagittarius is an expansive sign and it can't be contained in a restraining house such as the 6th.

Mother Nature is indeed expansive, powerful and wild, natural disasters cause sudden damage to cities that humans constructed. No rule or law or restriction can contain Mother Nature because she's so powerful and does her own thing at will. No one can understand her or regulate her or control her. Even bushes start to grow over a destroyed wasteland. Nature takes over again and overcomes everything, after humans ruin stuff.

Oh, but yes, only one thing can overcome Mother Nature : Time... Saturn. Cancers have Capricorn in 7h. With time, green becomes gray, plants, trees etc d*ie out - so that new ones grow and flourish later and the cycle repeats. Interactions with other people (7h) can force Cancers to detach.

"Come on, grow the hell up" is something Cancers are likely to often hear from partners, friends, family members, and basically everyone. "Grow up" here means stop being attached to impermanent stuff which time might take away someday. Children grow up and leave the home. Partners might leave too. Money, possessions and property might go away etc...

When cancers learn to detach eventually, they become the Crone. The difference between the Mother and the Crone is that the former loves with attachement, the latter loves with detachment. The former only loves her children but the latter loves all children and everyone as her own children even if there's no bIood relation.

The Crone cares about everyone, about humanity as a whole, independently of whether they're from her family, or her tribe, or her country etc. Same as Mother Nature, She nurtures everyone, she helps them grow, and doesn't care about nationality or race.

The second transformation for cancers occurs in the actual 8th house of transformation, where they have the rational, detached Aquarius. Saturn rules the 7th as well as the 8th house, so if cancers themselves do not decide by themselves to detach and become the Crone, disappointment from interactions with other people is likely to make them detach. It's better to detach as a result of inner wisdom than disappointment from others, right?

So if you have a cancer placement, think about this. Try to find out whether you're the Maiden, Mother or Crone. Try to become the Crone. Keep in mind that it's not a linear process, you can go back and forth between those phases. But the goal is embodying the Crone.

[followthechick]

Random headcanons on the Weston boys

Okay since Weston anime is out, I’ll be sharing some headcanons I’ve collected during 10+ years of being obsessed with this saga and its characters.

I’ve been so invested into these headcanons that I consider them to be canon at this point. Anyway please don’t be mad if they don’t match your personal headcanon, it’s still my own interpretation and silly ideas about characters that don’t belong to me so anyone can disagree.

First I’m gonna write down the ones that involve more than one character, then I’ll be more specific and list them by character.

Brace yourselves for a pile of totally self-indulging blabbering.

Lawrence and Edgar are canonically childhood friends (Yana confirmed it), I like to think they grew up together thanks to their mothers being best friends with each other.

While Lawrence and Edgar already knew each other since birth, they met Herman and Gregory during their first year at Weston.

Because of the rivalry, friendship between students from different dorms has always been rather frowned upon, so the boys decided to put all their efforts in becoming the best students of their respective dorm to one day become Prefects and be free to meet and be friends without being judged by other students.

To freely chat and keep in contact prior to becoming P4, they secretly exchanged letters hidden among the library’s textbooks.

While we know Lawrence has 7 sisters, Edgar and Herman don’t have any sibling, while Gregory has an older brother. He’s doesn’t talk about him often as they’re not very close and don’t get along well.

Gregory met Cheslock while he was at his 3rd year (Cheslock is one year younger). They often spent their free time in their dorm’s common room, Cheslock would practice violin and Gregory would silently sit near him while drawing. One day he made a portrait of Cheslock and left it near him as a gift with the encouraging inscription “Keep playing”. The next day Cheslock asked him if he had any request for him on what to play, and that’s how they started talking to each other.

Headcanons by single character

Edgar:

His zodiacal sign is sagittarius

He has a sweet tooth and would live on sweet food alone

His maternal grandmother is french

His noble title comes from his mother, who is a Viscountess and older sister to Viscount of Druitt

He’s either pan or gay

Lawrence:

His zodiacal sign is capricorn

He’s ambidextrous (he usually writes with his right hand but is more comfortable doing other activities with his left one)

His sisters’ names are: Isabel (6 years older than him), Deborah (4 years older than him), Madelyn (2 years older than him), Adela (the only one to have a canonical name, 5 years younger than him), Rebecca (the one who has a crush on Edgar, 7 years younger than him), Rosalind and Amelia (identical twins, 9 years younger than him)

His father is a banker

Pretty sure he’s either ace or gay

Herman:

His zodiacal sign is libra (though I feel like aries might suit him better)

He took after his mother the most

He’s notoriously good at many sports, but he’s not very good at dancing (he’s not graceful enough for that kind of activity)

He’s good at cooking

He’s either a straight ally or a disaster bi

Gregory:

His zodiacal sign is cancer (mayhap also aquarius could suit him tho)

He used to wear charcoal and inks as make-up in his early years at Weston

His father is a politician

He’s kind of a picky eater and doesn’t like meat and seafood

He’s 100000% ace-spec

Cheslock:

His zodiacal sign is scorpio

His iconic “scar” is actually make-up, though beneath it he does have a smaller scar on his left eyelid, which is the result of a quarrel with his sister when they were kids

His father is a surgeon

His full name is Victor Theodore, which he hates

Pretty sure he’s bi

I might add more in the future, though I don’t have many headcanons for other characters but who knows.

Also I’m up for asks to chit chat about what I’ve shared, or for other headcanons o/

[harmoonix]

Lilith square Moon

~ Melted Heart ~

💙∆💙∆💙∆💙💙∆💙∆💙∆💙💙∆💙∆💙∆💙∆

💙∆💙∆💙∆💙💙∆💙∆💙∆💙💙∆💙∆💙∆💙∆

💙 => When Lilith square Moon in your birth chart , your emotions run deep, connecting with the depths of your soul, every feeling is experienced intensely 💙

💙 => Grounding practices are crucial for yourself and to avoid being pulled into dangerous or vicious situations influenced by your shadow 💙

💙 => This aspect heightens your intuition, particularly when it comes to sensing danger/disasters/. Your intuition is very evolved here

💙 => Your feelings here are so powerful that they can fast turn from rage to sadness and vice versa, at their worst it can turn into an destructive behavior, sometimes having the urge to seek relationships for maternal nurturing 💙

💙 => It's very important for natives with these aspects to release their emotional burdens, they can often think about their past and their decisions in the past, release everything that hurt you because sometimes the power of your own emotions can overwhelm you 💙

💙 => Lilith here can manifest into rage, in a way she likes it here but it also makes her mad, if it makes sense...You can be a good listener and helper, to help others in situations where they could've have been hurt 💙

💙 => Sex it can be very important to you, for some natives it can work as a healing key and it may help you overcome the sadness Inside of you, but make sure to be with the right one, because if you make it with the wrong people your soul will only get hurt 💙

(For people who don't know, when you make sex with a person who has bad influences/bad behaviors bad everything etc.. these bad things can influence you too. And you gain them from bounding because sex itself is a form of bounding aswell. This was just as an Advice)

- H a r m o o n i x 💠

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Channeled Song:

"Frozen" by Madonna

[writingchalamet]

ross request 👀

basically y/n is friends with adam & carly and they’ve been trying to set them up for months with ross but something always happens (someone is sick, touring, etc.) but finally ross & y/n meet and it’s basically a match made in heaven

Adams Bestfriend

warnings: ☁️ v fluffy, babies if you consider them a warning!

A/N: this is soooo freaking cute

You had been a close friend of Carly's for many years, naturally becoming close with Adam over the years too. The pair having you over for any movie nights, dinners and outings. You loved nothing more than third wheeling the pair, and when their sweet baby came you practically clung to the couple even more. The two of them adored you and the way you were with their son. It was initially Adams idea to introduce you to Ross after hearing you complain to Carly all night about how terrible your date was, you had called Carly half way through asking her to come and bail you out which she gladly obliged, and after hours of venting, crying and getting wine drunk with Carly you fell asleep on their sofa bundled up in a blanket, head resting in Carly's lap. Adam sat next to Carly quietly chatting as she stroked through your hair. "Do you know who I think would be really good for her?" Carly's eyebrows raise as she looks at her husband with a quizzical look on her face "Ross..." suddenly her face lights up, eyes practically gleaming, "holy shit that's the best idea you've ever had!"

That was over a year ago now, the pair had tried numerous times to get you and Ross in a room together but to no avail, several plans had been foiled, neither of you actually knowing Adam and Carly's true intentions. You were supposed to meet at Christmas, but Ross had to cancel to see his brother. Then again for dinner at Easter but you double booked with your parents, and more and more occasions just like it, either one of you was sick or the both of you double booked, it was a complete disaster. But the one time you did finally meet was completely by mistake, Ross was round Adam and Carly’s babysitting for them, when you unexpectedly dropped by having forgotten your purse when you were visiting a couple days earlier.

You knock on their front door tapping in a singsong manner fully expecting to see Carly’s beautiful head of curls answer the door, only to be completely blindsided by a tall dark handsome stranger, you knew to be one of Adam’s friends answering. He was clutching onto baby Hann whilst he screamed bloody murder looking very distressed as he looked at you confused. “Hi, I’m y/n, Carly’s friend, I left my purse here the other night and was coming to get it but if it’s a bad ti-“ Ross cuts you off almost in a pleading notion “Y/n! Yeah They’ve mentioned you a bunch of times, come in, I think I’ve seen a purse in the living room” he sidesteps out the way to let you into the house, you slip off your shoes knowing Adam’s strict ‘no shoes on my carpet’ policy. You can’t help but wince at the screeching sound of the babies cries as Ross helplessly bounces him trying to get him to calm down. You spot your purse in an instant but the maternal instinct in you has you reaching out for baby Hann. “Are you okay?” You ask softly, trying not to pry but feeling genuinely concerned not only for the baby but for Ross’s sanity, knowing how stressful it can be the times you’ve looked after the baby not knowing of you’re doing things right, sometimes reassurance is needed. Ross sighs and turns to you fully, it’s now that you take him in fully, he looked tired, his hair was falling out of his bun, his shirt was wrinkled probably from holding the baby against him most the day, and his forehead was forming faint stress lines. “Uh, I’m not sure, I feel like I’ve tried everything and he won’t calm down, he’s not hungry, he doesn’t wanna play with any toys, I’ve tried listening to music, he doesn’t want me to sit down with him he doesn’t want me to be moving around, I just don’t know what to do” he lets out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding, “here let me take over for a minute, you sit down” he would resist but the way you’re already two inches from him gently taking the baby from his grasp has him dizzy, so he takes a seat, he watches as you place the babies head on your shoulder holding around his back, patting his bum in a steady rhythm that has the baby soothed and falling asleep in a matter of minutes, “see, just exhausted” you give Ross a soft smile and join him sitting on the sofa next to him, “how the hell did you do that” he shakes his head laughing in disbelief “lots of practice, I have lots of nieces and nephews” you continue to sooth down the babies back as you settle down and get comfy on the sofa.

“So it’s nice to finally meet you” you smile staring across at the brunette who looks slightly more relaxed now. “Adam and Carls talk about me too? I hope you haven’t heard anything bad!” He winks at you, and you swear you feel a swarm of butterflies erupting through your stomach. “Nothing bad about you, Matty on the other hand…” you trail off as the baby stirs slightly, but you lull him back into his slumber by shushing and rocking him, Ross can’t help but admire you. “I really don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t have shown up here, maybe started crying myself” he speaks in hushed tones and lets out a soft laugh. “Don’t be silly, you would been fine, he would have tired himself out anyway, it’s just stressful to listen to when they’re in that mood and nothing you’ve tried is working” you place your free hand on top of his, gliding your thumb across the knuckles, you couldn’t help yourself, you almost felt drawn to him. He looks down at the your hand and smiles, turning his hand in yours and giving it a squeeze, a sort of silent gratitude. The two of you being too comfortable to take your hands away so you just left them there and chatted for at least an hour and a half while baby Hann slept soundly on the comforts of your chest. You got to know the ins and outs of each other feeling as if you had known one another for years. You hadn’t noticed Ross shuffling closer to you, or more so you didn’t mind as he slipped an arm around your shoulder so the three of you were close while you spoke in hushed tones, and you definitely didn’t hear the front door clicking open, and the quiet footsteps of your friends coming home to greet their baby, when they stubbles in on a sight and a half. Their best friends huddled up on their sofa whilst their baby slept safely between the pair, the two of them giggling at something the other had said, a squeeze of the shoulder, a pat on the thigh, their faces were close, it was everything Adam and Carly had hoped for when they wanted them to meet. The sight being almost too cute break, but sadly Carly had mummy fever, and had to see her baby. “Well, well, well… what’s going on here then?!”

And at the sound of his mothers voice, and frankly saved by the bell, baby Hann awakens and emits his cries for his mother and hunger. Saving you an explanation, for now. The two of you clear your throats as you struggle to separate from each other, Adam finding the scene particularly humorous to watch. You had the baby over to Carly who coos at the baby calming him instantly making Ross shake his head in confusion, “I told you Ross, he’s a ladies man” Adam chuckles walking over to his friend and patting him on the back, judging by the fact that his hair was falling all over the place and you were the one holding the baby that Ross had been struggling. “Honestly mate, that was the hardest babysitting gig of my life, if Y/n hadn’t of shown up, me and jr would have been joining you at dinner”

You laugh and sigh shaking your head “you weren’t doing that bad, you just needed to pat, not bounce” you wink at him this time and you watch as his mouth falls agape. Adam pats his friends back in sympathy but laughs all the same. “Well, I guess I better get my purse and get going, it was lovely to see you guys, and nice to meet you Ross… finally” you say the last word pointedly to him directly, grabbing your things giving Carly a quick hug and kiss before heading down the hallway. You hear your name being called just as you reach the front door so you turn and see Ross taking long strides towards you.

“Hey y/n, um this may be strange as we only met today, but I was wondering if I could take you out sometime?” You can’t help the raging smile that appears on your face making your cheeks ache, you nod instantly “yeah, yes that would be nice” Ross leans down to give you a hug and you hear a muffled “yes! I knew it would work!” From Adam in the living room making you chuckle and nuzzle your face closer into Ross’s warm and welcoming chest.

[4sh-n4]

Bruce Wayne, who can't cook to save his life but can bake better than even Alfred. The catch? He can only do it in the night after being awoken by nightmares. No one knows about his extraordinary skills other than Alfred and Dick, because everyone assumes that the baked goods in the kitchen are made by Alfred. Dick knows because when he was younger and couldn't sleep because of nightmares, he used to join Bruce in the kitchen and watch him work.

Dick Grayson, who is an absolute disaster in the kitchen because he keeps getting distracted, but give him a microwave and a dream and he'll prepare a solid three course meal that actually tastes decent. He's also an excellent cocktail maker, which is funny since he prefers to have his alcohol straight without any mixers (he still puts the little umbrellas in his glass though, don't be mistaken)

Jason Todd, who is an ACE in the kitchen because he refused to ever be helpless with food again after getting off the streets. He was going to eat, and he was going to eat WELL. Especially since he finally had the resources to be able to actually experiment with what he likes and what he can do with different foods, instead of just what's cheapest or most easily found. The one thing he can't do? Crack an egg with only his hands without getting any of the eggshell pieces in the food. He needs to use one of those little egg cracking tools. The thing that pissed him off the most about this is that the one thing Dick can do brilliantly in the kitchen, is crack eggs with one (1!!!) hand only.

Tim Drake, who is definitely not michelin star level (the Drakes had a cook for Tim's entire childhood so he never had to learn), but has learnt to sustain himself with instant meals and those little ramen packets. He somehow always makes them taste good though, adding toppings and making sure they are some form of nourishing, even if that just means adding a fried egg on top and calling it a day. He also knows the difference between all the different little types of tea that alfred likes to drink just by taste, and is the only other person in the house that can make a perfect cup (that is Alfred approved). It always shocks everyone else, because Tim is notorious for hating the taste of tea.

Cass Cain, who has no culinary abilities and does not want them either. Her skills in the kitchen start and end with making sandwiches. But whenever she goes out to eat, she always goes to a chinese restaurant and gets something that she hasn't tried before, because she was never introduced to any foods of her culture and wants to taste them all now. Oh, and she can do super complicated tricks with the knives, her and Dick have constant competitions about who can do the coolest thing.

Steph Brown, who lives off of takeaway for most meals, but can make better breakfast foods than most people in the house. Waffles, pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast, you name it and she can make it. Only if it is traditionally eaten before noon though. She also worked as a barista part time for a while, so she knows all the fancy coffee recipes.

Damian Al Ghul Wayne, who doesn't care to cook other cuisines, but taught himself how to make almost every middle eastern and south asian dish he could get his hands on, because it helped him feel closer to his home and his mother when he first moved in with his father. His fondest memories of his mother are of her feeding him his cultural foods and telling him about their origins. It was the only time they did not speak of work, or his training, but instead about what his father was like as a person, about the things his mother has seen on her travels over the years, about his maternal grandmother, about his interest in animals.

Duke Thomas, who can cook enough for a 15 year old but doesn't touch the kitchen of Wayne manor very often, not unless he's just sitting on the counter watching others or helping minorly. His memories are still fresh enough to bleed when touched and all his memories of him cooking in the kitchen have his parents happily dancing in the background on Sundays with loud music blaring through the walls as they teach him how to chop onions without crying or knead dough.

Alfred Pennyworth, who only had the most basic culinary skills when he began working for the Waynes, just enough to keep him alive when he was in the military, but was forced to learn how to cook when he was unexpectedly given custody of an 8 year old. He can cook better than most professional chefs in the world now, but he still hoards Thomas Wayne's old cookbooks like they're the only tangible part left of the man who once filled the halls of the manor, even though he knows that's not true. He'll pass them down to his grandchildren one day...just not today. Today, they're still his.

[miz-chase]

Doctor in the Photo AU where Ange and Hodgins are the ones who go chasing after Brennan in the rain in the bad part of town, because they’re the good friends who are actually paying attention to how bad things have gotten for Brennan.

She moves in with them and takes time off along with Angela in her pre-birth maternity leave. Its spa days and laughter and home cooked meals and too many nerds in Angela’s house all at once. It’s a much better energy to bring new life into the world, instead of all that death every day.

Brennan’s right there to help when the baby is born, and all three tag team the exhausting early weeks of Michael-Vincent’s life. Brennan’s too tired to worry about other things, and is happily relieved to be a part of such a circle of love. A real family.

somewhere else, far away, Booth can deal with his self-made disaster on his own. She can’t wait for him forever, either.

[astrosky33]

PLANET MEANINGS IN ASTROLOGY

[READ] People often question why there’s so many meanings for each planet/house and the reason is so that you can learn more than just one thing about yourself through each placement. Otherwise astrology would be very vague and boring. These are all meanings that I’ve learned from my astrology classes at Kepler College

THE SUN: your ego, your identity, your vitality, attention, spotlight, leadership, creativity, authority, royalty, pride, generosity, individuality, development, dignity, consciousness, things that make you happy, festivals, validation, and self expression

THE MOON: your inner emotions, emotional responses, emotional instincts, care, your comfort zone, femininity, your mother/motherly figure, family, your childhood, your nurturing instincts, fertility, baking, maternal instinct, adaptability, nursing, menstruation, pregnancy, boobs, the ocean, habits, and comfortability

MERCURY: communication, speaking, the mind, health, perception, lower education (pre-k, elementary, middle, and high school), writing, social media, cell phones, short trips, transportation (not flights only ground transportation), mannerisms, twins, gestures, reason, change (in general), forgetfulness, clumsiness, the press, trading, publishing, correspondence, profanity, gossiping, literary works, daily routine, mathematics, youth, and printing

VENUS: love, attraction, romance, who you fall in love with/who you’re attracted to, your love languages, beauty, sympathy, pleasures, art/artistry, self love, harmony, femininity, rhythm, sentimentality, compromise, sharing, cooperation, aestheticism, dancing, entertainment, values, festivities, possessions, luxury items, cheerfulness, sloth/laziness, jewelry, your vagina, and sensuality

MARS: passion, desire (in general), confidence, ambition, lust and sexual desire, sexual preferences, sex style, anger/aggression/aggressiveness, competitiveness, athletics, temper, impulse, courage, fire, self-assurance, tasks, masculinity, assertion, dominance, activity, physical energy, heat, sexuality, enthusiasm, forcefulness, friction, combativeness, war, your dick, tattoos, motivation, and violence

JUPITER: luck, abundance, wealth, success, opportunity, popularity, expansion, knowledge, honesty, wisdom, travel, air travel, ease, blessings, philosophy, higher education (college/uni), optimism, religion, justice, the law, exploration, profit, vision, devotion, study, growth, faith, fulfillment, speculation, and gambling

SATURN: hard work (and rewards), achievement and mastery, challenges, struggles, karma/karmic lessons/karmic debts, your father/fatherly figure, work (in general), fears, guilt, delay, longevity, old age, limitations, discipline, responsibility, your work ethic, contraction, the past, deficiency, bones, skinniness, practicality, confinement, effort, self-control, stability, endurance, maturity, detachment, consistency, grudges, and history

URANUS: friends/socialization, technology, film, unplanned/sudden changes, uniqueness, ups and downs, fluctuation, rebellion, independence, invention, freedom, originality, the unexpected/surprises, freaks/freakiness, p*rnography, shock, chaos, natural disasters, science, engineering, fans/followers, and electricity

NEPTUNE: kindness, compassion, creativity, glamour, sensitivity, selflessness, escapism, intuitiveness/intuition, the hidden, dreams, imagination, deception/lies, delusion, mysteries, hallucination, disguise, confusion, disappearance, evasion, divinity, spirituality, inspiration, mysticism, transcendence, hypnotism, prophecy, fascination, and idealism

PLUTO: transformation, power, sex, orgasms, destruction (ending in renewal), rebirth, intimacy (not just sexual), death, intensity, magnetism, regeneration, infatuation, obsession, black magic, seduction, manipulation, sexual organs, evolving/evolution, extremes, and purging

MY MASTERLIST

MORE BEGINNER ASTROLOGY

HOUSE MEANINGS

© 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[lavendersartistry]

Looks at you with BIG OL EYES

So what made her decide that Dogday shall become Her Bi Disaster Nephew, what did this silly silly (kinda wet meow moew) man do to get her attention :3 (omg first ask by me woahhh)

HAI BESTIE, WELCOME

it's her gay sensesing glasses/j

Tbh, Raida saw a bit of her younger brothers in him. She was aware of how closeted they were in the gay closet and she was very protective about her brothers when it came to their sexuality. Another thing was her slight maternity aura, if i can say it right.

So when DogDay came into view, she immediately went: "He likes someone, but he's in denial."

Plus it's funny to her when she gets to know about his fails of flirting with Z, Raida is gonna do romance lessons with DogDay to save him some grace.