#my smol dark son

[keylana-dragon]

STILL reminding everyone that I'm a fucking simp and wasting my life on this bye

also-

It's okay actually Lucien loves him like we all do

[courtesanofdeath]

"Unfortunately for you, the Clover Kingdom still has that guy."

[memetic-trigger-hazard]

Trope blender strikes again!

Since the formation of the Justice League Dark to deal with supernatural threats, Diana had been acting as the team's 'Superman' for lack of a better term.

It was, however, not a position she was entirely suited to, as ironically enough when engaging supernatural threats she was better suited to the same role that Batman played in the Justice League, engaging with superior training, tactics and specialised tools while also acting as battlefield tactical command.

With the lack of any other candidates however, she made do. But not for long.

Thanks to a wandering little girl, Diana had gained a new cousin and uncle who were refreshingly free of the hubris of the Greek pantheon, as well as an unexpected (and terrifying) meeting with her Grandfather who was far different from the stories, she supposed death and a few millennia would calm someone down. She was pleased however to add some paternal family members she could enjoy calm moments with.

Her Uncle was willing to help, however his backlog from the previous King in addition to the repairs and ongoing negotiations for reparations with the United States government made her feel guilt for placing further demands on him.

Her younger cousin however was more than happy to "get out of the house", her Father's comments about the expansiveness of a TARDIS castle completely ignored.

Ellie was already training with her old friend Pandora (So many happy reunions) so Diana was more than willing to take her to Themascerya for an initiation to the Sisterhood of Amazon's. Danny was ecstatic that his daughter was making friends.

Now Ellie as Banshee is JLD's front line fighter and Diana is the tactician, a dynamic duo of their own. Diana is so proud of her little cousin.

Which is why today was very..... Strange.

~

Basically the JLD have to head to the Watchtower for some threat, Ellie is super pumped because SPACE and Diana is excited to take her smol bean cousin to the Watchtower for the first time.

Batman and Co arrive and Drama TM occurs because "Holy shit that little girl looks like a Talia with blue eyes", Damian starts accusing and mouthing off, Ellie freaks because her Dad has warned her about the League of Assassins, so she freaks and bails.

Diana is explaining who Ellie is, how they're related when Uncanny Valley Danny in human form comes out of a portal in his "Royal Casual" work attire. Loose jeans,button up with vest, fluffy slippers with a coffee mug in hand. He's facing Diana, paying 0 attention to who else is there beyond "cool space station".

"Hey niece, why is my daughter running through my castle screaming about killer birds?"

"Ah, I believe she is referring to Robin being a former member of the League of Assassins." Diana replies.

Batman and the rest of the Justice League are tense, assessing this possible ally who RADIATES power and death. Anyone affected by death can feel it like static in their teeth during a lightning storm. Those who have been into the Lazarus Pits feel safe yet the overwhelming urge to KNEEL BEFORE YOUR KING.

"Well shit, someone actually escaped from the Fruit Loop Supreme? Anyone who gets away from my asshole grandfather is alright by me." Danny replies as he turns to look at the various heros, taking a sip from his mug.

"Danyal?" A faint hopeful whisper as Damian takes his mask off to look at his Brother (HOW, HOW? HE LOST HIM HE'S HERE HOW?) His dead twin somehow here and changed so much.

*Slurp*

"Well shit, didn't expect this."

This entire time Bruce's brain is making crunching noises.

It's not the extra son that's apparently God of the Afterlives. It's not the granddaughter.

Diana is his son's niece. Bruce had sex with his grand niece. Barbara is right, he needs therapy.

[slutforsilverfoxes]

A very smol blurb inspired by the end of NCIS ep 11.2 so I can cope with my very big feelings (no spoilers, just discussion of our poor honey’s injury)

Pairing: Jethro Gibbs x wife!reader

__________

The door is unlocked and the lights are off when you come home which, normally, would be par for the course if not for the truck in the driveway with its hood still warm. Slipping inside and shaking off the fall chill, you drop your coat and keys by the door before stepping out of your shoes and making your way further into the house.

“Jay?” you call out into the darkness. “Y’here? You know I don’t do well with jump scares.”

“Better brace yourself then,” he counsels, and you can tell now that he’s in the kitchen. The small overhead light flickers to life, and you take in a shuddering breath, followed by an eloquent, “Son of a fucking whore, who did this to you?” Shaky fingers reach up to graze the fresh bruise blooming on his face, and you wince at the sight of multiple cuts and his bloodshot left eye. “I bet that fucker’s regretting messing with you, huh?”

“Easy, love,” he murmurs with a smile, delicately taking your wrist in his hand and brushing his lips over your knuckles. “Your mouth could rival a sailor’s.”

“Oorah and all that jazz,” you fire back easily. “Answer the question, Jethro.”

“Which one?”

“Jethro.”

“Name’s not important. Locked up and taken care of,” he finally provides as he pulls you into a hug. You nuzzle into his solid chest and tease, “Bet he’s got an uglier mug than you now, hm?”

“You married this ugly mug.”

“And aren’t I just the luckiest gal in the world?” You guide him over to the small table and gently nudge his shoulder. He takes the hint and settles into the chair, finally releasing some tension from the day while you card your fingers through his hair. “I’ll get you some ice.”

Tilting his head back to rest against your tummy, he looks up at you with the closest thing to puppy dog eyes he can muster in his current state. “Make it a beer? It’ll be a twofer.”

“Got it,” you answer, sliding milk and eggs aside to reach for the six pack of your husband’s favorite local brew. You hear the phone ringing as you extract yourself from the fridge, and when you return to his side, Jethro heaves a sigh before lifting the device to his ear with a quiet, “Hey, Ziver.”

You twist off the cap to his beer before placing it down by his hand, then give his shoulder a firm squeeze and press a delicate kiss to his cheek. He places his hand over your own and squeezes back, looking up to meet your gaze with a small smile.

After one more brush of your lips against his temple, you head upstairs to shower and change. He’ll come find you when he’s ready.

__________

LJG tags 🖤 @ilovemark1951 @doctorwhofan24

[linkedspirit-fanartfunart]

Ah the Link's got Tumblr again, smh can't have anything nice

2 notes

⚒️ smol-smithy Follow

NO WHY IS THE POLL A TIE. Why must I be doomed to share with these fools. This is nonsense.

⚒️ smol-smithy

Vi... Were you going to post behind our backs despite touting how "innane" it was and how it was "a waste of time"???

⚒️ smol-smithy

Hey why wasn't I included in the poll?

- Hero of Darkness

⚒️ smol-smithy

Shadow gtfo

⚒️ smol-smithy

how does Shadow know our password we changed it??

-Green

⚒️ smol-smithy

Passwords suck and so does Viofhhfksllkkkkkkkkkmmmnnnnnnfhkahf

🌟 excuuuse-me

Vio did you legit strangle your Shadow and hit send on his joke anyway? Because that's beautiful.

#this whole situatuon #art really #can I have a turn with your magic sword when you're done I think it'd be funny #everyone deserves More of Me

50 notes

🌸 dont-look-at-me Follow

How do I get a real life girl to kiss me pls

🌟 excuuuse-me

Please please please please please please please please please please please please plea-

🪶 redwingskies Follow

Apparently you just have to visit her shop like 3 times idk I still don't understand it

🌊 kingoftheseagull Follow

Give her some of your food, works every time.

🐴 goatman4life Follow

You sir are thinking about seagulls again, not women.

🌸 dont-look-at-me

You dont know me. What if I want seagull advice too?

94 notes

🐀 mouseman Follow

Best companion for adventures go!

⏳️ forestchild Follow

Fairy

🎶 ocarina-macarina Follow

Fairy!!

🌟 excuuuse-me

I legally can not say which is higher on the list because i will be strangled in my sleep but fairy & princess

🌸 dont-look-at-me Follow

Idk I keep accidentally having first dates via adventure so ig Girlfriend???

🪶 redwingskies Follow

Sword & Bird

🐴 goatman4life Follow

... Fairy

⚒️ smol-smithy Follow

I'd say myself but I found out that it sucks.

🌊 kingoftheseagull Follow

The silly old man who slowly realizes he wants to adopt me over the course of the journey. Fairy is Very close second. Then seagulls.

⚒️ smol-smithy

Oh hey actually ^ same.

🚋 train-life Follow

Ghost bestie

🌳 wildflowerwastaken Follow

#wait same??? #ghost friends for life #or. Uh. Postlife? #sorry. Idk. #also how are all of you posting in the reblogs like... #id die #....I can make that joke I already died once so it's funny now #anyways the rest of you are so biased #the answer is always Ghost Bestie #not like they can die again! Haha #ha.

746 notes

🌊 kingoftheseagull Follow

...omg what if the Hero of Time was turned into stone. I've seen it happen like twice and in totally different contexts so who knows. I mean can't come back to save the world if you're stone.

🎶 ocarina-macarina Follow

O-O

🐴 goatman4life Follow

He did not Hope this helps

⏳️ forestchild Follow

I did! Hope this helps

57 notes

🐴 goatman4life Follow

My son just bit me and after crying about how he didn't mean to actually break skin and calming down enough to like, talk, he said "Why do you taste like dark fog and goat?"

And while I have an answer for the goat thing I'm ??? Concerned

⏳️ forestchild Follow

I think you'd taste a lot like Black Boes, based on how you smell

🐴 goatman4life Follow

Why are children assigning me Flavors? Why do you know what black boes taste like??? I'm the guy who bites things not you

138 notes

🪶 redwingskies Follow

Why can't I pet anything on the surface. There's so many tiny cute creatures and they all either run away or want to kill me.

⚒️ smol-smithy Follow

When you're tiny and some giant comes at you with grabby hands what other options do you have?

🐴 goatman4life Follow

OP go find a cucco, they'll love you

🌸 dont-look-at-me Follow

Dont do it they both want to run away from you and also want to kill you at the same time

🪶 redwingskies Follow

They will love me like he promised I'm sure of it.

[droewyn]

I DID AN OOPSIE

Okay, so context is important here.

This is Spriggan.

This is Spriggan’s not-so-smol son, Captain Toebeans T. McGillicuddy Wildboi I.

Yes, their names are immaculate.  Yes, Cap has thumbs.  Also yes, if you look into one ear, you can see clear through to the other side.

Spriggan was a roughly one-year-old adult feral cat when we trapped her in our backyard on Halloween night, 2019.  We’d caught Cap about a week prior, and he was about 16 weeks old.

Cap assimilated pretty well for a kitten who was too old to be adoptable.  He loves my husband, his mother, and Alisaie beyond life.  He likes me okay.  He’s terrified of my father-in-law.  Very few other humans have ever seen him.

Alisaie isn’t relevant to this story, but here she is anyway.  You know that meme that was going around that was like “which cat is the bby and which is the criminal”?  Yeah, we got one who can do both.

So, socializing an adult feral cat is hard.  I’m not going to go into it here, because I have this handy link where I did go into it.  It includes more pictures, and also the most important video in human history.

https://www.tumblr.com/droewyn/710812951143219200/you-guys-you-guys-you-guys-you-guys-you-guys-my

The big takeaway that you need to know is that while Spriggan is part of the family, and likes being part of the family as far as we can tell, she Cannot Be Petted.  Also, that our cats look Very Similar In The Dark, particularly Cap and Spriggs.  He’s enormous but she’s very floofy, and they both can look solid black if they’re curled up or viewed from the wrong angle.

Here’s the oopsie.

It’s 1AM.  I need to use the bathroom.  I must pass through the living room to get to the bathroom, and Cap is on the loveseat.  I pet him and rub his ears.

I go to the bathroom.  I’m in there for like two minutes, max.

I come back out, and reach down to pet Cap again.

IT IS NOT CAPTAIN.

The good news is, I still have all my fingers and all my blood.  Spriggan didn’t even hiss; she just teleported across the room and GLARED at me.

She’s still glaring at me today.  I am In Trouble.

But this time last year she would have shredded my hand so yay progress.

The Inky Kitty Committee having a rare meeting, feat. the baby looking spooky af.

[alifeasvivid]

Let me be very, very clear.

England and America's caregiver/ward-charge-""~son~"" relationship (as it kind of relates a lot to this post) is only interesting to me at all if they end up in a romantic/sexual relationship later and not because I think it's incest because it is not that (.that's not a thing in hetalia. even if it was, America is not "blood" related to England. England has actual brothers, we know what that looks like. the implications born out of England being his colonies' "father" give me the ick.)

It's interesting to me in the sense of America having "been in love" with England for his entire existence and England being basically the only one with that caregiver view of the relationship. America definitely wanted to be England's wife and/or husband from the time he was very wee smol and England laughed indulgently and said of course, of course and thought it was "cute" at the time, but America was dead fucking serious about it and never really stopped being so.

Even England thinking that he is/was a caregiver to America is a retcon in his own mind because he definitely was just the world's worst babysitter. He's painting a better picture of himself by claiming that he gave America the world on a string and nursing his own ego over America giving him the finger and demanding independence. He liked knowing America was out there, across the sea, loving him and always being happy to see him, but he was never there. Not even at the end (rainy battlefields be damned, he was way too busy with more pressing matters).

The fact that England is so much older than America but they end up at very similar ages in the modern day so that England is suddenly forced to see America as an adult and equal in a way that isn't the same old "older adult sees 18 year old as 'grown up' for the first time', is just... I dunno it's very unique to them as far as I've encountered and I can never properly articulate just exactly what I mean by this. It's a vibe. I've only ever gotten the full experience of it from a few artists/writers.

Let me be even more clear: in my mind, as far as Hetalia goes, America declared independence, yes for himself primarily, but also because England wouldn't see him as an adult and specifically because he wouldn't see him as a potential partner.

I understand where people find the idea of them having a father/son relationship sort of warm and sweet (esp face family) and/or sort of dark and twisted (they're too alike in all the wrong ways). I get it. And I go out of my way to respect people who don't ship them. If a post says "don't tag as ship" I don't tag it as ship... and if it's not tagged when it comes across my dash and it's not overtly shippy, I check OP's tags and honor that. So let's just be clear. If you interpret a post of mine as them having a familial relationship, keep your mitts off of it, capiche?

[cultofdixon]

Relax a Little

Daryl Dixon [PLATONIC] • She/Her Pronouns • The Youngest Dixon • The apocalypse stresses everybody out, but the eldest one had the best idea • SFW/Smol ANGST • TW: Drug Consumption (Weed) / Anxiety

Requested by: Anon

“No!”

“She said yes and she’s an adult so. You ain’t playing dad anymore. If she wants to try. She wants to try”

“You’ve got to be kidding right? There’s fucking sickos around. If she gets a bad one, she’s gonna flip”

“Such little faith in me, big bro” Y/N scoffs at Daryl who was only looking out for her while Merle is the devil in disguise. “What’s the worse that could happen?”

•

I’m losing my goddamn mind

Y/N found herself in the middle of the woods that the Dixons had found solace in since the outbreak started. She already couldn’t wrap her head around what time it was and whatever kind of strain Merle gave her, made it worse.

“YOU LOOKED AWAY FOR ONE FUCKING SECOND AND SHES GONE” Daryl snaps at the also stoned Merle who was zoned out in his outdoor chair. “Goddamn it. You’re useless” he quickly picked up his crossbow and made his way into the woods tracking where his sister went.

Everything feels weird Y/N frowns rubbing her hands together feeling the dryness of her hands which only started to make her panic a bit. I’m drying out? Isn’t Atlanta like water…uhh….I don’t know. I need water. She groans brushing her hands on her jacket making her way toward any sound of water.

But it was all silent for the most part. With the few grumbles by walkers that weren’t even close.

“Stupid son of a bitch. Can get eaten by sickos for all I care.” Daryl groans continuing to follow the trail Y/N had left, given she may have gotten far but she was slow and left heavy foot prints. “Dumbass is a drug dealer. All of his shit could be laced. Why would she even think…” he stops himself from saying more when approaching a walker and taking it out.

He quickly picked up his step finding Y/N’s jacket on the ground covered in blood that he couldn’t tell if it was hers or not. But it got him to start running.

Weird. Weird. Weird. Y/N sat at the edge of the creak watching the water run for a while with her feet in the cold water. She was lost in thought as the sound of water drowned out everything around her.

________

“Get out of the creek” the teen picked up the screaming child as all she wanted to do was stay in the water. But the annoyed groan coming from the eldest made it clear.

“Why the fuck do I gotta take care of her as well as you? Can’t she stay with da—-“

“No one is staying alone with dad! Fuck Merle” The teen being Daryl holding the youngest Y/N close as she struggled to get free from his grasp. “You’re already leavin’ for what. The military?”

“The military” Y/N mumbles staring at the ground giving up with fighting his grasp. “He’s leaving? Like mommy?”

“That can be dark, but nah peanut. I’m just gonna fight for this stupid ass country” Merle took Y/N from his brother’s grasp and putting her on his shoulders.

“And most likely get discharged” Daryl scoffs following his brother and sister back to the car.

“Well would yea rather have me come back after being discharged…or with a flag?”

“A flag” Y/N replies with holding onto Merle’s head for stability as Daryl couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.

“She doesn’t know what that means. But I’d take the first one”

“See I knew you cared about me baby brother”

“I care more about her than you”

“Fair enough”

________

“Y/N!” Daryl yells stopping by the creek finding her shoes by the water but no sign of her. “This goddamn woman. I’m going to kill h—-“

“DONT TOUCH ME”

Daryl quickly ran across the creek knowing that was his sister’s voice and relaxed knowing it’s not a walker or another person. But a raccoon? The fucking girl is fighting a raccoon.

“Y/N, you’re fine”

“DARYL HE STOLE FROM ME”

“I don’t think he did. But uh. He’s gonna make a good dinner” Daryl readies his crossbow and before he could fire, more noises were made causing Y/N to run off. “Motherfuck—-“

“Hold it”

The unknown man held his shotgun up at Daryl as he kept his crossbow steadied. He wasn’t going to take any chances either. If he shot, so was he. Then they’re both taken out of the picture. But given Y/N’s state of mind, some would say certain emotions were enhanced by the drugs, she wasn’t going to let her brother meet his maker by this unknown.

“Where did you come from?”

“Why should that matter? The woods is the woods and you scared my sister off”

“Your sister is the crackhead?” He questions and that comment only enraged Daryl.

“She AINT a crackhead. She’s fucking stoned. Did you touch her? Talk to her? How the fuck do you—-“

“She’s been running around in the goddamn woods by herself without her shoes. You expect me to believe she ain’t no crackhead? Granted I’ve seen a lot of weird shit. What’s next a nudist?”

“What the hell is your deal?!” Daryl snaps keeping his weapon up and in the corner of his eye he spotted Y/N sneaking up behind the unknown. But what he didn’t know was that Merle had been following him and given the situation, he raised his gun up high firing out of both their lines of sight.

Causing them to move their weapons out of view of the other. Leading to Y/N’s opportunity to swing the branch they got, knocking the man in the back of the head and onto the ground unconscious.

“Jesus Y/N”

“I DIDNT KILL HIM. IT DIDNT KILL HIM. HES GROANING. BREATHING. I DIDNT—-“ Y/N stopped her panicking when she heard a gasp behind her resulting in the brothers aiming their weapons and her quickly raising her hands up. “I did not kill your husband”

The woman that came through looked at the three confused before drawing her attention quickly to the man on the ground. She ran over dropping to her knees making sure what Y/N said earlier was true. He was in fact still breathing, he’ll have a killer headache by the end of this.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“Oh well I’m Y—-“

“Shhhh ain’t gotta tell nobody who we are until we know you ain’t one of them…one of them. Uh”

“Bad bitches”

“I tell yea that once and it sticks in your brain in adulthood. What else do yea call bad guys?” Merle continued to struggle with the conversation with his sister as Daryl looks at the woman who was struggling to follow.

“They’re stoned. Mind yer business, tell us who you are and we’ll go from there”

“Lori. This is Shane and he ain’t gonna be happy when he’s fully up.” Lori frowns trying to get him to sit up when he was protesting at first. Y/N couldn’t help herself and help the stranger get Shane situated upright.

As Y/N rose to her feet she didn’t wait another second to start heading back to their camp. Daryl groans pushing Merle to follow their sister about to join him when he turned to the two once again.

“Yea alone?”

“No, we’ve got a camp…what are you doing out here?”

“Survivin’ what else?” Daryl put his crossbow on his back and that sparked something in Lori’s head.

“You hunters? All three of yea?”

“Yeah”

“Well when this guy gets clear again, where can I find yea?”

“Why?”

“See if we can help each other out. It is the end of the world.” Lori shot a reassuring smile as Daryl stood to ponder but there was pressing matters.

“I’ll think about it…” He states leaving on that note, and Lori was left a bit confused thinking he wouldn’t find them again. But he’s one hell of a tracker.

The middle Dixon half expected his siblings to struggle to go back to their camp, but to his surprised Merle was laying in the ground right beside Y/N staring up at the sky. Both seem to be lost in thought and Y/N temporarily snapped back when her shoes and jacket were dropped on her by Daryl.

“Thanks D”

“You’re the wander off kind of high” Daryl frowns sitting in the outdoor chair Merle was in earlier after setting his crossbow down.

“Gonna need a leash on her” Merle yawns a bit. “Not the sexy kind”

“Gross shut up” Y/N smacks Merle beside her hearing him groan as he rolls over to lay on his stomach in the dirt. “Everything is spinnin’”

Daryl frowns bringing himself out of the chair and kneeling beside her. “Like you might pass out or?”

“Such a worrywart” Merle groans into the dirt turning away from the two knowing Daryl is glaring at him.

“Don’t be a bitch Merle…and nah. Just spinnin’. Ain’t gonna…react bad” She sighs rubbing her eyes a bit as Daryl sat down on the ground staying close to her in case of anything.

As the night crawls in and the high was subsiding. Meaning Y/N was sober enough to help set up the can barrier with Daryl as Merle continued to lay in the dirt since he passed out after a while. The two stayed up a bit longer keeping their fire low and preparing the squirrels Daryl found before their high endeavors.

“Merle’s right yknow”

“About what? And that coming from you? Really is the end of the world” Daryl scoffs taking a bit of his portion, tossing the canteen to Y/N when she made grabby hands for it.

“You’re a worrywart, Dar”

“So what? I’m yer brother. Second nature to be”

“Yeah but you were more than a brother to me growing up. You and Merle may have not had the best role models growing up. But I did. I don’t think Merle would care hearing that you’re my favorite brother but you took care of me and made sure I was safe even with our bitch of a dad and moron of an older brother”

Part of him thought she was still stoned, granted she could be. But Y/N always thought that. Daryl’s the best big brother anybody could have.

________

“But I don’t wanna. Where are you gonna be?”

“Back at 1pm to pick yea up. Don’t matter beforehand”

“Matters to me…” Y/N pouts squeezing her brother’s hand not wanting to go to kindergarten as Daryl sighs letting go of her hand kneeling beside her. “Why can’t I stay with you?”

“Because you gotta learn something, and tell me all about it when I come and get yea. Alright? Can yea do that?”

“Love yea D”

“Love yea too, kid” Daryl smiles standing up about to leave when Y/N suddenly wrapped herself around his legs.

“Be safe please”

“I will, you know I promise yea”

________

“Yer my favorite too yknow”

“Uh…duh?” Y/N smiles tossing the canteen back before getting up to grab a blanket for Merle.

Leaving Daryl to relax a bit.

Thankful nothing happened to her

[lifeandlies-of-regulusblack]

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Regulus' animagus is a blackbird.

The first time he successfully shifts, he breaks down in what is both grief for what he can never be and the elation that in some way, he is free.

The Black Family Coat of Arms features prideful ravens — his form, is symbolic of his painfully flawed attempt at being who his family demands him to be. It echoes his struggle to fill in the role, that was never meant to fit both sons of Orion and Walburga Black.

Graced with the misfortune of being the one left behind, his entire life has been a continuous pursuit of a nameless, shapeless goal. To become the perfect heir, perfect student, perfect son. The perfect soldier, too. At this point, Regulus wears the feeling of inadequacy and the desperation that comes with it, like a second skin.

He laughs and sobs to himself after shifting back. Arms wrapping around his middle as he stumbles to the ground, unable to hold himself upright. His failure is no longer a question hanging above his head. Regulus understands his grief but is surprised at the blooming lightness in his chest. He guesses there's something about certainty that frees the soul.

His form is his undying loyalty to his family and a testament to his desperation to fill in the cracks To be what they need. Yet all the same, his form tells him his limits.

He thinks of Sirius.

A black dog and a blackbird. Defects of the family but still so undeniably… Black. His brother isn't the only fuck up in the family. He's one too. And he can finally stop fighting himself about it.

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black has long demanded the glory and tenacity of ravens from its children. The birds are ancient creatures with ties to early dark magic. Messengers of Death — the greatest divinity. Purest of them all.

Granted, he's closer than Sirius will ever be—in animagus form and in essence—to what the family hungers for. He flies the same heights as they do and harbors a need for their love and approval. They praise the likeness they find in him. He's crowned the raven prince.

However, looking at Kreacher's heaving form after the trip with the Dark Lord — the stench of his vomit permeating throughout his room, weakly apologizing for shame of being hurt — the terror-anger-heartbreak-guilt that floods his system is so unlike that of a raven, who would've croaked and cawed at the display.

Regulus is reminded once again of his isolation from his family.

In his mind, he hears the trills of blackbirds he had once joined in flight. A great swarm, they call a murmuration. He remembers being inside the frenzied mass, his heart in crazed beating to keep him flying and warm. His ears, Regulus remembers, overwhelmed by a song sung so differently than the one he grew up with.

He can feel phantom wings on his back twitching to take flight. He prays.

Salazar help him. Morgana have mercy on him.

— Regulus is a blackbird.

Blackbirds can be very distrustful

Blackbirds are very cute

Blackbirds are very smol

Blackbirds love singing

Blackbirds can absolutely dish it out when backed into a corner

wow, i can't seem to stop writing about the black brothers. here, have some more.

PLEASE consider giving me a reblog if you enjoyed this :3 if you did, then someone else might like it too! this gets my writing to people who may like the things i write ~

[dragons-hoard-of-fandoms]

WARNING: Dark Revival spoilers!

Smol Bendy is my son now I love him so much I would gladly allow Sammy Lawrence to sacrifice me to him

Also everybody gangsta til the Ink Demon starts talking

I like Porter, he's crazy (affectionate) :)

[one-piece-aus]

Hi hope it’s not to late to request a platonic Character Dynamics please between Boa and Luffy please

What if Boa didn’t fall for Luffy what if she sees him as her kid ? I think it be a cute idea and it be fun idea since he has a father figure Shanks who’s a Yonko.

now imagine if his mother figure was Boa the warlord . (Before I watched one piece I honestly thought those 2 were related with how similar those 2 are and Luffy attacks has got some snake themes in there XD )

Please 💗

ALRIGHT HOLD THE PHONE! I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH!!! And it's been a while since I got a dynamic request [not me forgetting the saul au ask in my inbox]

Platonic Mom Boa & Son Luffy Dynamic (Headcanons)

Okay so when Boa is saying she feels "love" for Luffy, it's actually a motherly kind of love towards him (at least in these headcanons)

How she sees it is that he's her son that's protecting her, you know like those characters where they'd go through hell and back to make sure their mom is okay, and the mom is the loving and affectionate type where they're always proud of their kid, that's the dynamic

She's so touched and moved by how her son cares for her, she just wants to give him the biggest hug ever and never let go, but no, he's a big boy, he'll be embarrassed if she smothers him with affection (at least that's what her thoughts tell her when he's older)

She's overjoyed when her son gives her hugs or gets her a gift, she'll have tears in her eyes and a fond smile on her lips

She's happy Luffy has a "healthy" appetite and that he eats her cooking, a growing boy does need his nutrition after all

Boa would be the kind of mom that lets Luffy run around outside all day for fun but gets worried if he's not back by dark, but she never scolds him for it because truthfully she knows Luffy is capable of taking care of himself, she's just glad he's back home safe

Boa would get in a fistfight with anyone who thinks Luffy is a monster, look at her son, he's a little angel who never did anything wrong in his life

Luffy thinks of Boa from time to time when he's out adventuring and hopes she's doing alright

When he sees her again, he'll have the biggest smile and great her with a hug!

That's about all the thoughts I got for this, but if you want more headcanons of Boa raising smol Luffy, check my Seven Caretakers AU

[leiawritesstories]

Little Hawk

Rowan Week, Day 2/Day 6: Rowan and the Cadre/Rowan as a child

@rowaelinscourt

Word count: 3,536 oops

Warnings: some language, Maeve, lil bit of angst smol child Rowan hehe, HAPPY FLUFFY SOFT ENDING I PROMISE

Enjoy!

A/N: any excuse for alternate canon is a good excuse ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A winter storm brewed high in the mountains of Mistward on the night Rowan Whitethorn was born.

Enna and Pyotr Whitethorn had been trying to conceive a child for centuries without success. They had all but given up hope and accepted that the rarity of Fae children had left its mark on their family when Enna unexpectedly found out she was pregnant.

Pyotr spent the next nine months in full hovering, territorial, brooding Fae male protective mode, of course. They had been married for centuries; despite the lack of supernatural bond between them, they were still just as attuned to each other as mates or carranam would be. Enna put up with her husband's brooding, tease him though she did about his incessant hovering.

But it was all worth it for their son.

Rowan Whitethorn screamed his way into the world on a dark, snowy winter's night, his infant cry drowning out the whistling winds.

Enna laughed through her tears as she cradled the tiny boy to her chest, gazing down at his bright, pine green eyes as his cries calmed in his mother's arms. "Hello, my little hawk," she whispered, softly caressing the tuft of silvery hair on his little head.

As if her words had imbued him with power, little Rowan shuddered and sneezed.

And two soft, downy, white-tailed hawk's feathers fluttered off of his head.

He did not actually shift into his animal form until he was five hears old, much to his parents' relief.

~

Practically from the day he started to walk, Rowan had a sword in his hand. Pyotr gifted his toddler son a small, harmless wooden toy sword, which little Rowan hauled around with him everywhere, cooing and giggling whenever he smacked a rock or a shrub or a pile of leaves with his toy. Once he was steady enough, his father taught him how to actually swing the toy sword, grinning proudly when he mastered it within hours.

"He's got the makings of a great warrior, my love," Pyotr murmured fondly to his wife as they watched their five-year-old son easily swing his blunted child's sword through the simple series of maneuvers he'd been taught.

"Why does that scare me a little?" Enna asked, leaning into her husband's side, a smile edged with concern sliding onto her face.

Pyotr kissed her silver head, embracing her tighter. "I'll train him, I promise."

"I know you will," she whispered, inhaling sharply when Rowan swung a little too enthusiastically, accidentally flinging the sword down to the stone floor of the courtyard. In the process, of course, the wooden handle hit his foot.

Rowan yelped in shock and pain and childish outrage, hopping on his good foot and clutching his bashed one.

There was a flash of bright green light.

And a young, downy, white-tailed hawk stood in Rowan's place in the courtyard.

The little hawk's bright, alert eyes stared around, taking in the sudden change in location with no small amount of surprise and wordless shock. And then he screeched, flapping his small wings frantically and managing to launch himself a few feet into the air before landing again and half-running, half-fluttering in circles, agitatedly screeching.

Only a few short moments after the unexpected shift, there was another bright flash, and Rowan stood in his Fae form once again, shaking his arms and legs as if to reassure himself he had limbs again, rather than wings and taloned feet.

The first thing he did upon confirming he was himself again was sprint over to Enna and bury his face in her skirts, clutching her legs, his small body shaking.

"Oh, my little hawk," Enna cooed, scooping him into her arms and hugging him tightly, soothing his terror. "It's alright, I'm right here."

"M-m-mum," Rowan whimpered, twining his arms around her neck, grasping her like his lifeline. "What was that?"

"You shifted," she said plainly, stroking her fingers through his pale hair.

"Shifted?" His terror rapidly gave way to curiosity.

"Yes, shifted." Pyotr rubbed his son's back comfortingly. "You, like me, have an animal form as well as a Fae form."

"What's that mean?" Rowan hadn't quite grasped the concept.

"Watch, my son." Pyotr stepped into the middle of the courtyard, rolled his neck, and shifted in a flash of green. Rowan blinked and saw an adult hawk in place of his father, gaping as the hawk launched himself into the air and flew a few loops before landing gracefully and shifting back into Pyotr's familiar form. "That's shifting, my son."

Rowan's jaw hung open. "I wanna do that!" he crowed. "Show me, Da!"

Pyotr chuckled. "We need to start slow, little hawk. But your enthusiasm is a very good thing."

"I wanna fly!" Rowan declared, tugging his father's sleeve. "Please?"

"You will, little hawk." Pyotr swung Rowan up and tossed him into the air, catching him as he laughed with a child's glee. "You will."

~

Rowan was nearly fifteen before he had anything resembling mastery over his shifting, and even then, his gangly teenage limbs often caused him to stumble as he shifted back into Fae form, cursing under his breath at the readjustment to Fae proportions.

"Having trouble, birdbrain?"

"Shut it, pup," Rowan grumbled, flipping a foul gesture at the lanky blonde Fae to his left.

Fenrys Moonbeam snickered. "Hey, I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing with you."

"Piss off," Rowan snorted, chuckling a little. "Are you ever serious, Moonbeam?"

"Not a strength of mine." Fenrys flashed him a grin. "You still up to be my sparring partner?"

"Hell yes." Rowan threw a vicious smirk over his shoulder. "Someone has to knock you on your ass every once in a while, yeah?"

"Fair enough," Fen laughed. "See you at training!"

Rowan, Fenrys and his twin Connall, and their friend Vaughan had all been training with Gavriel since they were old enough to properly train. The older Fae was about the same age as Rowan's parents, and he was one of the most famous living Fae of the age. Gavriel, the Lion--the whispers rippled around the wide-eyed group of young Fae the first day their instructor appeared.

When they arrived at the training grounds that day, though, a curious silence permeated the mountain air.

Fenrys, of course, broke it. "What's going on?"

"Bit of an excursion," Gavriel replied, the warrior's face tight with something oddly close to concern. "Don't get all excited, Moonbeam, it's nothing terribly momentous."

The solid black carriage that pulled into the courtyard almost the instant the words were out of Gav's mouth begged to differ.

"Holy shit!" Fenrys gasped, goggling at the insignia on the carriage door. "That's--"

"Let's go, boys," Gav interrupted. "Her Majesty doesn't like waiting."

~

The four young Fae were uncharacteristically silent as the carriage pulled up in front of the great stone castle.

Gavriel swung open the door and leapt out, nodding his encouragement to the teenage Fae. "There's no need to worry," he reassured them calmly, extending one hand. "Her Majesty simply wishes to meet the new crop of warriors, as she does each time there is a new group."

Somewhat calmed by that, Rowan took Gavriel's hand and swung himself down. "Shouldn't keep the Queen waiting, then."

"Indeed not," Connall agreed, jumping down gracefully and tugging his twin with him. "C'mon, Fen, think of Her Majesty as just another Fae female. Only this one has a crown."

Fen snorted something under his breath, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from his brother. "Ouch! Hell, it wasn't that crude!"

"You keep telling yourself that."

Quietly, escorted by four blank-faced demi-Fae guards, they made their way into the palace, following the guards down the silent marble halls until they reached a set of great mahogany double doors, the wood inlaid with glittering veins of ebony. The throne room. Suddenly conscious of himself, Rowan straightened his posture, trying to present himself as much like the Whitethorn prince he was as possible. And he wasn't the only one--Fen and Con and Vaughan also straightened up, putting their shoulders back and placing carefully blank looks on their faces.

The doors swung open, creaking like the wintry wind that curled around the towers.

Almost in unison, the four boys walked up the interminable length of the throne room, their boots clicking against the polished black marble tiles, following Gavriel up to the dais at the front of the cavernous hall. Rowan caught a brief glimpse of his parents standing to the side among the group of nobility, knowing they were probably there at the queen's command.

"Majesty," Gav bowed, dropping to one knee. The four of them followed suit, kneeling in deference to their queen.

Queen Maeve let them kneel for a moment, then tapped her polished nails on the armrest of her ebony throne. "Rise." Smooth as silk and fluid as water, her voice spilled over each of them.

Rowan contained the slight shudder that ran through him at the feeling of the queen's command, having the oddest prickle of a sense that she could see right through all of them.

"The newest trainees, Your Majesty," Gavriel announced, gesturing to the four teenage Fae standing rigidly upright, eyes cased like he'd trained them. "Prince Rowan Whitethorn, Lords Fenrys and Connall Moonbeam, Lord Vaughan Recorre."

Queen Maeve swept her gaze over each of the young warriors one at a time, her dark eyes calculating, considering. She tilted her head to the side, a tiny hint of a smile curling the corner of her crimson lips. "You've done well, Lion."

"I thank you, Your Majesty."

"They are ready, then?"

"If it were up to my discretion?" Gav shook his head. "They need more training before they ought to enter the legions. But Your Majesty always knows best."

"Well spoken," Maeve purred. She turned her serpentine, otherworldly smile onto Rowan. Onto his friends. "I have an offer for you, my young warriors."

Rowan tried to ignore the icy shiver that snaked down his spine at the queen's words, at the unnerving smile on her porcelain face. Tried, and failed.

"How would you like to join the legion of the bloodsworn?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Rowan saw both of his parents stiffen slightly, that word striking something in them. His brows furrowed in confusion, wondering why his mother and father, two of the strongest Fae he knew, would react like that.

The queen, of course, noticed his confused expression. "Prince Rowan," she hummed, drawing his attention to her. "You have a question?"

Rowan didn't even want to know how she'd formed that conclusion. "I...Your Majesty, I don't understand what being bloodsworn means?"

Maeve's smile expanded, the crimson stain of her lips curving across her pale face. "Would you like to know, little hawk?"

A bolt of ice shot down his spine at the queen's use of his parents' familiar nickname, every nerve in his body freezing. Would you like to know?

He'd been trapped.

She knew--somehow, she knew--that he would ask, and she'd trapped him into either accepting this blood swearing without knowing what it was or risking his own neck by saying no.

Before he could speak, though, Fenrys stepped forward, lowering himself to one knee. "I would accept, my queen."

Maeve's black gaze fixed onto the blonde Fae, taking in the surety in his posture, his voice. "You would swear yourself to your queen by blood, Lord Fenrys Moonbeam?"

"It would be my honor, Majesty." Fenrys never wavered.

The queen nodded. "And so you shall, Lord Moonbeam." Withdrawing a slender steel blade from her sleeve, she sliced her forearm. "Come."

As if pulled by some supernatural force, Fenrys rose and approached the throne, knelt again, and placed his lips to the queen's small wound, taking a taste of her blood. When Fen lifted his face, Rowan could have sworn he saw blackness flicker in Fen's dark eyes, but he quickly brushed it off as a trick of the light.

"My queen," Fenrys repeated, kneeling again.

Maeve graced the young lord with a serpentine smile. "My sworn white wolf."

So that was it, the blood oath. Take the queen's blood and thereby swear to her one's life.

Ever so slightly, Enna Whitethorn inclined her head, something Rowan couldn't--wouldn't--name flickering across her face. Go.

So Rowan stepped forwards, knelt at the foot of the dais, and with a voice that somehow felt detached from him, he swore himself to his queen. "It would be my highest honor, Majesty."

"Come."

Come, whispered a dark, ancient voice within Rowan's mind, reaching oily tendrils around his mind and tugging him forwards to meet the queen, to touch his lips to her pale, cool skin, to taste the thick copper tang of her blood.

"Welcome to my sworn warriors, little hawk," Maeve smiled, her voice oozing through his very blood, slick as oil and deadly as steel at the same time.

Connall and Vaughan knelt too, swore their oaths, and accepted the queen's blood, forever binding their lives to their queen's will.

"My cadre," the queen pronounced them, pride and...and something more sinister ringing in her tone. "I see great things for you, my young warriors." As they knelt, she waved her hand. "Go, keep training. I will call for you when I know you are ready."

Something in those words turned Rowan's very blood to ice.

~

The queen's summons awoke him in the darkest hours of the night.

Come. Wake up, little hawk.

Blinking groggily in the thick velvety darkness, Rowan reached blindly for his weapons, strapping his steel to his body and pulling on his boots and following the queen's nudges until he was out in the forest, calmed by the familiar whispers of the trees and the wildlife.

Shift, little hawk.

In hawk form, Rowan hopped up into a tree, launching himself into the night sky from there. Maeve's voice in his mind, in his blood, directed him out over the forest, no time to appreciate the beauty of the night before he was descending into a clearing and shifting back into his Fae body, hand creeping unconsciously to the knife strapped to his thigh.

For he was not alone in the clearing, as evidenced by the warm, golden, gently flickering firelight.

Tread silent on the carpeting of pine needles, Rowan approached the golden sphere of firelight, the queen's firm hand on his blood guiding him to draw his knife, readying his muscles for the pounce.

Until he stopped short, stunned by the female sitting in the sphere of flame, her golden hair loose, fanning about her, its rich color mingling with the hue of the flames she cast.

Maeve's ever-present voice interrupted his momentary reverie.

Kill her.

Rowan blinked. She is a threat, Majesty?

Do you question my orders, little hawk?

Of course not, my queen. Rowan tightened his grip on the hilt of his knife. I would not have flagged this female as a threat, that is all.

Such a softhearted little hawk, the queen crooned. Kill her.

Knowing better than to say anything else, Rowan crept up behind the female, still silent, still unnoticed until he coated his free hand in ice to ward off the fire and caught the female by the neck, placing the razor-sharp point of his knife to her throat, just pricking the skin, a drop of blood welling up at his knife's point.

It was at that moment that all of his instincts screeched to a halt, overridden by the power of the female's blood.

Mate mate mate mate mate.

Rowan's hand shook, completely rattled by the overpowering realization. The female--his mate--was so still in his grasp, wordless, her flames rippling around her hands as if in defense.

Rowan.

Little hawk. Maeve was impatient now, getting ready to invade his mind and take over his body, something she had only done once during the time in which he had been bloodsworn to her.

Rowan would never forget the chilling wrongness of being shoved to the side in his own body, of helplessly watching as the queen, moving his limbs like a puppeteer, committed a slaughter.

Little hawk. Louder now, more insistent, his arm twitching as he fought between his queen's order and his mate's instincts. Rowan. Kill. Her.

Tears erupted from Rowan's eyes. "I'm sorry," he croaked, his knife rattling, shuddering, settling against flesh and blood and bone as the queen reached through his mind and body and forced him to--

ROWAN.

"Rowan!"

Rowan jerked awake, sweat coating his torso, shuddering and shaking and blinking in the soft, flickering light of his wife's flames. Aelin's hands laid against his chest, pressed to his heartbeat, her eyes wide with fear.

"Rowan," she murmured, sliding one hand up to cup his cheek, "it was just a dream, my love."

He loosed a shuddering sigh, twining his arms around his wife, his mate, his queen, who pulled him close and let him lay his head against her neck, sensing her steady pulse. "It felt so real."

"She's gone, my love." Softly, tenderly, Aelin's fingers stroked through his hair, quieting the thundering of his heartbeat. "She's gone. It was just a dream."

Rowan rested his head in the crook of Aelin's neck, drawing lungfuls of her familiar, grounding scent, her presence calming him slowly. He didn't know or particularly care how much time passed before he lifted himself away from her neck, resettling them both back in bed, still wrapped in her embrace.

Aelin kissed his temple, tracing the flowing ink of his tattoo down the side of his face. "I'm right here, buzzard."

Eternally comforted by her presence, Rowan curled into her warmth, soothed, the nightmare fading in the light of Aelin's flames. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply in the scent of his wife, and was finally teetering on the edge of sleep when their bedroom door creaked open and soft scratching footsteps crept into the room.

Instantly, he was on high alert, muscles tensed and ready to spring.

Aelin, more levelheaded than him at the moment, cast a stronger light outward, illuminating the small figure who'd entered the queen and king's bedroom, his big green eyes welling with tears, a soft blanket clutched to his chest.

"M-mama? Dada?"

"Come here, my little love," Aelin murmured, rolling out of bed and striding across the room, scooping her seven-year-old son into her arms.

Brannon Whitethorn Galathynius twined his arms around his mother's neck, burying his face into her shoulder, his small body shaking with sobs and terror. "Mama," he repeated, his small voice cracking.

"I'm right here, Bran," Aelin reassured him, holding him tight, stroking through his messy blonde curls. "Did you have a scary dream?"

As if the words set him off, Bran released a massive sob, clinging tighter to his mother. "Yeah," he cried, his tears soaking through her nightgown.

"Oh, little love," she whispered, settling into bed with her son close to her chest. "It was just a dream, B. It's not real, I promise."

He sniffled, wiping his eyes with a small fist. "Where's Dada?"

"Right here," Rowan murmured, wrapping his arms around Aelin and Bran from behind, rubbing his son's back. "Did you have a bad dream too, little hawk?"

"Mhmm." Bran nodded, still clinging to Aelin even as he peeked over her shoulder, finding his father's steady, even gaze. "Scary dream, Dada."

"Come here, little hawk," Rowan whispered, reassuring Aelin with a gentle caress down the bond as she shifted Bran into his arms, letting their small son cling to his father. "What happened?"

Bran sniffled. "Monster."

"A big one?"

"Yeah." Bran sniffled, reaching up to touch Rowan's tattoos. "Big scary monster chasing me. An' it..." His eyes welled with fresh tears, some spilling down his soft cheeks. "It...said you were all gone, Dada."

"Ah, my son," Rowan murmured, his broad hand spanning his son's back, "stupid monsters can't get me."

Bran managed a half-smile, sniffling. "Had to see Dada."

"Well, here I am, little hawk." Rowan kissed his son's messy head. "If any big scary monsters try to get me, I promise you I'll rip them into shreds."

"So violent," Aelin teased softly, poking his side.

Anything to make my boy know he's safe.

You're an old sap, buzzard. She leaned into his back, pressing a whisper-soft kiss to his shoulder. You've no right to be so endearing at this unholy hour.

His tears drying, Bran snuggled contentedly into his father's arms. "I wanna stay, Dada."

Rowan's lips quirked up, his eyes flicking to Aelin's. "Because your room is scary?"

Bran nodded, blinking sleepily. "No wanna more monsters."

Aelin's soft laughter floated through the room. "Of course you can stay, little love," she whispered, tucking Bran's blanket around him.

Nearly back asleep now, Bran yawned, a big sound for such a small boy. "Night Mama, night Dada."

"Good night, little hawk," Rowan returned softly, settling Bran into the big bed between his parents. "I love you."

Bran mumbled something that sounded vaguely like love you dada, making Rowan's eyes well up with tears of his own.

In three and a half hundred years, he'd never have guessed that he would be so blessed.

~~~

TAGS:

@charlizeed

@cretaceous-therapod

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@nerdperson524

@fireheartwhitethorn4ever

@morganofthewildfire

@rowanaelinn

@wesupremeginger

@stardelia

@shanias-world

@mybloodrunsblue

@swankii-art-teacher

@wordsafterhours

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@violet-mermaid7

@holdthefrickup

@goddess-aelin

@rowaelinismyotp

@dealfea

@irondork

@elentiyawhitethorn

@live-the-fangirl-life

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@chronicchthonic14

@lovely-dove-zee

@sweet-but-stormy

@hanging-from-a-cliff

@jorjy-jo

@rowaelinrambling

@thegreyj

@silentquartz

@backtobl4ck

@throneofus7

@elizarikaallen

@llyncooljones

@booknerdproblems

@julemmaes

@earthtolinds

[simplyventi]

Been thinking of some Pokémon hcs and for once they’re not incombustible

Professor sycamore being Kalosian/sinnohian; he was Professor Rowan’s assistant at one point before going into mega evolution research. He knows Cynthia and is good friends with her. After moving to Kalos and becoming the regions Professor Cynthia would come there and visit him from time to time and there she met Diantha. They became friends and then started dating but due to being in different regions and champions in their region plus a few problems between them they broke up. Diantha then did start dating Malva but with the whole team flare thing they ended things. Diantha reunites with Cynthia at the masters 8 and they reconnect.

Cynthia knows Alain as well. Seeing as she’s good friends with Professor sycamore she meets his son. She’s deemed for Alain to call her Aunt Cynthia though he doesn’t. Reuniting at the masters 8 was an eventful day.

Cynthia: Oh Alain. it’s been so long come give aunt Cynthia a hug

Alain: …I rather not…-embarrassed-

Steven/ash: aunt Cynthia???

Diantha: -panics in lesbian-

Another thing I was thinking about is Steven holding Alain’s hand or even pressing a small kiss to his cheek and Cynthia goes full protective aunt mode.

Cynthia: So it seems you are showing interest in Alain.

Steven: yes we’re dating

Cynthia: I see, oh Steven -dark aura rises- better be good to my nephew

Alain: oh dear Arceus take me now

Also she will tell embarrassing stories about Alain when he was a smol bean growing up at the lab. Steven finds them cute but Alain has his edgy self to protect

[eunchancorner]

Has anyone ever requested skid and pump headcanons? If not, then I will be the one to ask, if you want

Surprisingly enough, you're the first, tho these main bois are stupidly adorable and adorably stupid move over Lila, Skid is my son now

NORMAL HCS

-They are well acquainted with John's daughter and Robert's little sister, Spooky Month is a huge holiday in the town they live in (meaning no school during October), so they do go to school and are good friends with the two girls

-Pump's headpiece for his costume is a real pumpkin, he gets a new one every year

-Skid is ALWAYS energetic, a very sharp contrast to his poor, tired mom who survives off coffee

-Speaking of which, Skid tried coffee once. Lila is never letting that happen again.

-Pump gets a little upset when he calls his parents and they don't answer, but Susie always tells him they're probably really busy

-Yes, they've mixed up June and October more than once, don't even ask how, idk

-Their dads invented the spooky dance and taught it to everyone, these two are the heirs to the dance lol

-If you're wondering if they get less... dense as time goes on... no, no they absolutely do not

-Pump's favorite snack is pumpkin cookies. Honestly tho, what did you expect

-He's actually very fond of most things pumpkin flavored or scented, which is why he loves being a pumpkin for Halloween so much

-So if Skid gets pumpkin flavored candies, he'll give them to his bestie, he's such a sweetheart istg

-Very unaware of the trauma they've inflicted on other people :) (Or in Roy's case, helped some people discover they had :<)

-Very obsessed with creepypastas and cryptids and shit

-Pump has VERY dark humor

TICKLE HCS

-Big switch energy, they give off

-Their attacks usually consist of one distracter and one tickler

-Skid has a tendency to jump on people to tickle them, while Pump tries to climb up to torso level

-Very friendly bois = lots of tickle attacks!

-Always give hugs or candy after tickling someone

-You remember how I said sometimes Skid wakes up to hear Frank laughing his head off?

-Yeah, a couple of times he helped his mom to tickle the poor man lol

-Also yes, he was aware that he accidentally tickled Lila when trying out palm reading, yes, he does keep 'trying to palm read' whenever he thinks she needs to smile

-Ofc Lila gets him back, besides, his costume makes it too easy to know where to get him laughing

-Ofc his worst spot is his ribs

-Pump, however, isn't very good at trying to tickle his sister

-He almost always gets caught and tickled to pieces

-He's also a lil self-concious of his pudge (giving Susie yet another reason to tickle him, gotta make sure her little brother knows it's ok to be chubby!)

-His worst spot is his tum

-Skid and Pump have tkl fights ALL THE TIME

-Yk the jump Pump did to meet Skid that one time? Yeah, that happens if you poke him

I love the smol bois.

[inc0rrectmyths]

HELLO HI I literally had a crisis while trying to decide weather to send you an ask or not 😭😭

I wanted to say YOUR WIPS SOUND SO INTERESTING!! Like tell me more about them plisss 🥺

AAJKAKWIWW YOU CAN SEND ME ASKS ANYTIME YOU WANT DW <33

anyways! soo.. my wips are... complicated..

But here are some smol and BAD summaries..

WIP ONE: (FHCC)

this is the one I'm currently writing. And also posting about here and there. Its a story about an evil manipulative professor who runs a cult in the name of Caesar and wants to gaslight ppl into killing innocents in the name of Caesar. And he gets a job in a prestigious uni where he teaches the history department. The fourth year students consisting of all foreigners, he finds the perfect opportunity to corrupt them. a lot of murders happen in the campus and then they stop. But on the day of Graduation, when the whole campus was celebrating, the professor is also mysteriously found dead. Typical dark academia murder thriller hehe.

WIP TWO: (SAA:1987)

Its about five friends who live in the same tiny neighborhood. One girl and four boys. One of the boys Kunal is in love with the girl Chitra. And she loves him back. While their little sweet love continues to bloom, the other three boys, Shreyas, Aniruddh and Ronit are stuck in a painful and restricting poly relation. And one unfortunate day, Shreyas' very homophobic family hears the trio doing... stuff... And immediately lock Shreyas up in his room. Now keep in mind, he's a VERY sensitive boy who gets scared and nervous easily. This might seem like nothing to others, but this was a big deal to poor Shreyas, who committed suicide after a few days of being locked and unable to see his two lovers. The story ends in a tragically happy way. Where Kunal and Chitra are married, Ronit and Aniruddh are still dating but they both still mourn Shreyas. But all four of them have learnt to let go of him. Yet, he continues to be a missing piece. Typical tragic love story but make it gay and poly :D

WIP THREE: (TBM)

Back to murders! But now we kill criminals instead of innocents. Lord Byron Beckwith, a big British official built an institute in 18th cen Britain and the then colonial India. Two elite institutes for students around the globe. But as decades went by, the two campuses got corrupted. And became hotspots for drug dealings, sex slavery and human trafficking. And the victims were the poor students who were threatened to keep their mouths shut. A bunch of them also killed themselves for this reason. But cuz of the reputation the campuses held, the governments of both countries covered these sinister things with sorry excuses. And that's when a secret society gets revived by six Indian and five British students of Beckwith Institutes. And both the Deans aka the ones who allowed these crimes to take place, of Indian and British Beckwith are found dead. Another typical dark academia murder thriller.

WIP FOUR: (TPAHB)

The prince of one of the last remaining royal families of Spain was turning 20. And to gift his son, King invited a well known bard and artist to their palace. The bard was asked to paint a portrait of the prince who was gone for a few days. During these days, the king got so impressed by the bard, he asked him to permanently stay in the palace and entertain his peers. When prince arrived and met the new bard, he found him absolutely repulsive. And decided to avoid the man. But on the other hand, the bard is blown away by the beauty possessed by the prince. And the bard secretly makes prince his own muse. Composing songs for him, painting him or reciting poems in his name. No one knew about it. Until prince, who was weirdly fascinated the bard (he denied it) decided to sneak in his room. And found paintings of him and poems comprising of his name hanging from walls. The prince and the bard form an even stranger relationship where one hates the other but is also fascinated by him and the other one is surely in love but will never confess. This an enemies to lovers stuff with a lot of comedy lmao. Also gay <3

WIP FIVE (TGPW) [probably a duology]

The kingdom of Devhagar and Theoisia are rivals and have centuries long history of war, bloodshed and destruction. They both are constantly trying to win over the Northern and Southern regions which are inhabited by strong mythical beings, clever elves, notorious pirate clans and magicians, and most importantly loads of treasures. The never ending hatred of these two kingdoms was prophesied to stop. It was said that five heroes will rise, who will be from both Devhagar and Theoisia and they will team up together to defeat the two evil kings of the two kingdoms and end the reign of tyranny, black magic, hatred and violence. The Magician, a mysterious traveller with no name, said to be immortal finds two small girls while he was travelling thru Theoisia. Thr girls are named Diana and Minerva and immediately feels an aura around them. He decides to take them with him and protect them but mysterious forces constantly attack them, and The Magician realizes he can't fight all of them alone. He calls Kenneth, the captain of one of the strongest pirate ships. Kenneth and his crew take Diana and Minerva with them to a journey that is to find three boys in the kingdom of Devhagar. And they do find the boys after defeating multiple monsters. Shiva, Vishnu and Indra are the three boys described by The Magician. Now the five children are brought back to the magician. Who enlightens them. They have a task to do, they were born to end evil.

[katiedido2]

Star Watching

So I seem to be inspired to write after I read anything by @willow-salix. I hope you enjoy this snippet of life on Tracy Island with smol kiddos.

John saw Selene having fun with a nephew and wanted his turn.

~~~

The little boy made his way into the lounge on silent, socked feet. He spied his uncle and aunt comfortably snuggled on one of the sofas. He smiled. Daddy had told him it was a clear night and the stars would be easily seen from the lounge's balcony. He looked back to see if either of his parents had noticed he wasn’t asleep. He didn’t see them and, listening intently, didn’t hear them either. Likely, they were involved in getting his older brothers ready for bed. Good. He wanted to stargaze with his uncle by himself. Kip was too restless to sit still, and Alex insisted on bringing paper and crayons to draw with and then bemoaning it was too dark to see the paper. He shook his small head. He loved his brothers fiercely, but sometimes he needed quiet time to just stare at the night sky and think. He knew he’d be able to do that with his Uncle John.

Selene was the first to become aware of the small boy’s presence in the room. She nudged John and whispered, “Ginger, three o’clock.”

John glanced at his wife and subtly peeked over the tip of his tablet. A small, red-headed five-year-old stood huddled next to the side table at the edge of the room. “Three o’clock is the balcony, my love. The ginger is at eleven o’clock.” Selene rolled her eyes.

“Should we acknowledge him?”

John thought for a second. “No. Let’s see what he does.” She nodded, and they returned to their reading, though John kept half an eye on his nephew.

Virgil and Rebecca had three boys. Their eldest, Kip, with his curly black hair and soulful brown eyes, was his father in miniature. Great-grandma Sally gleefully produced baby and childhood photos to confirm it. Alex had been born with his mother’s blond hair and blue eyes. However, by his third birthday, his hair darkened and his resemblance to his Uncle Scott was uncanny. But the resemblance to father and uncle, respectively, was only physical. Kip had inherited his uncle’s Yolo adventurousness and Alex, his father’s cautious, methodical, compassionate soul. They couldn’t have been more different, yet they were inseparable, with Kip dreaming up grand adventures and Alex working out the logistics to make them happen. One was off in the clouds, and the other was calmly grounded. Their mother called them Earth and Sky. Their little brother, however, was of a reserved disposition. 

Virgil’s youngest was a quiet child who enjoyed his own company. A precocious child, he had learned to read at three and proved to be a piano prodigy, like his mother. But space fascinated him, and he loved looking at the night sky. He eagerly absorbed Granpa Jeff’s and his astronaut uncles’ stories about the stars, the solar system and their adventures in space. The ginger hair had been a surprise at first, but since she seemed to be replicating Jeff’s sons, Rebecca had chuckled and said the baby should be called John. Virgil had immediately agreed but asked if they could call him Jack. And Jack Tracy he was.

(When later asked by an eager great-grandmother if there would be more babies, Rebecca had kindly and firmly said no. Since she had reproduced Scott, Virgil and John, then next would surely be a Gordon, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be the one to unleash another Loki-like ray of sunshine on the world. She would leave that honour to Scott or Gordon. Thus far, the two men - and their wives - had produced smart, happy boys who had taken after their mothers.)

Now that he was aware of the small boy’s presence, John was hyper-aware of his movements. He heard small feet quietly, carefully pad down the steps into the sunken lounge and was not surprised to find bright turquoise eyes looking intently at him when he glanced up from his tablet a moment later.

“Hello, Jack.”

“Hi, Uncle Jay.” Jack looked very serious. John hid a smile.

“How may I help you?”

Small ginger eyebrows rose. “Star watch?”

It was Selene’s turn to hide a smile. Jack was as obsessed with space and the night sky as Kip was with flying and Thunderbird One. John smiled at his namesake, set aside his tablet and rose, taking a small hand in his.

“Okay. But do your parents know you’re here?” Jack shook his head. “Well, we’ll have to let them know before we go outside.”

Small shoulders slumped. “They’ll say no.”

“How do you know?”

“Mummy said no, 'cause it was my bedtime.” A pout was added to his downcast expression. John’s lips twitched.

“I’ll ask, and maybe she’ll say yes. Okay?” Jack looked dubious but nodded his head in agreement.

John touched his comms. “Rebecca?”

“Yes, John?” Rebecca’s normally crisp British accent sounded worn and tired. He could hear Virgil talking to the twins in the background.

“It’s a beautifully clear night, and I was thinking of taking Jack outside to star watch.”

“I’m sorry, John, but Jack’s sleep.”

John looked at his nephew. “No, he’s here with me.”

“He’s what?!” Jack huddled closer to his uncle. John could almost see Rebecca’s eyebrows raised in surprise. To the surprise of both gingers, she chuckled. Sighing, she said, “Okay. But only for a half hour, Jack. You’re so cranky if you don’t get enough rest.”

Jack nodded as if his mother could see him. “K, mummy.”

“You two have fun.”

“Thanks, Becca. We will.” John smiled at Jack, scooped him up in his arms and spun him around, the boy's giggle tickling his soul. Smiling, the two headed outside. Selene dimmed the room’s lights and went to the kitchen to make cocoa for the stargazers.

John set Jack on his feet. “Crisscross applesauce?” John nodded and sat with his legs crossed. He patted his thigh, and the little boy settled into what he called his ‘Uncle Jay chair’, reclining against John’s chest, his head neatly tucked under John’s chin.

“What do you recognise from the last time?”

Small fingers pointed to tiny pricks of light in the night sky, confidently naming the stars his uncle had taught him. “That’s Altair…and Vega…and Deneb. They’re the Summer Triangle.”

“Very good.” John pressed a kiss on the little boy’s head, momentarily overwhelmed by how much he loved this small person.

When Virgil and Rebecca learned that it would be unlikely for John and Selene to have children following her accident, they had, in unison, asked the couple to be Jack’s godparents. Since they weren’t a religious family, John had asked what role they were meant to play as godparents. “Love him,” had been Virgil’s response. “Love and care for him if we’re unable to.” And John did. That surprised him the most - how much he loved this child. And his logical mind couldn’t find a reason to help him understand why he loved Jack as much as he did. Why he loved him more than his other nephews. Was it their shared love of the stars and space? Was it because they were both third-born? Was it because they were both quiet and preferred solitary activities? Was it because they were gingers? Was it the way he seemed to trust John implicitly?

John had discussed it with Selene, and she had suggested that he was overthinking it. “There doesn’t have to be a single reason you love Jack. You love him because he’s him.”

“But why do I love him more than the others?”

“Maybe he fills that part of you that longed for a child of our own?”

“Sele-”

“We opened our hearts to the possibility of a child, and it was taken from us.” She wrapped her arms around him. “We’ve accepted we’re a family of two, but that doesn’t mean your heart has completely healed.” She shrugged and looked at him. “Maybe Jack fills the space that was left? ”

“Maybe.” John had kissed his wife, grateful as always that they had found each other.

“Uncle Jay?” The small voice brought him back to the present.

“Yes, Jack?”

“Should I show you the others I remember?”

John hugged the small boy. “Yes, show me what you remember.”

As if sensing his uncle’s disquiet, Jack twisted in John’s lap and kissed him on the cheek. He resettled himself, and clutching one hand in his small one, he pointed out the other stars he remembered. Wrapping an arm around the boy in his lap, John kissed the top of his head as tears filled his eyes. He swallowed, trying to keep them from falling. Selene approached and sat next to him. She set a tray with three cups of cocoa on the ground and looked at her husband.

“Are you okay?”

John nodded, feeling silly for being so emotional. He shifted a little to wrap an arm around his wife. He held both of them close to him.

“John?”

“Uncle Jay?”

John sniffled, kissed Selene and kissed Jack’s temple. “I’m good. I’m better than good. I’m perfect.” Selene wiped away a rogue tear on his cheek. “Jack, do you see that winking star over there?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s named after your grandmother. Let me tell you all about it.”

-fin-