#VERSE; ( POST CANON )

[humbuns]

clair de lune

[sodamnbored]

Catching Up

Thalia: So what happened after Juno took you? Where did you go? Were you safe, happy?

Jason, uncomfortably brushing her off: Well, it’s a long story and kind of a bummer haha. You don’t wanna hear that right now.

Thalia, softly: Jason, I’ve waited thirteen years to hear your sad stories.

[asthedeathoflight]

Okay its time for the armand autism post.

Armand Interviewwiththevampire is autistic obviously in the very direct dsm v way what with the blenders but Armand is also like. Thematically autistic. Like you know how monsters are always a metaphor for something? The werewolf story is a story about puberty, or transness, etc etc. Armand's vampirism is about autism.

Like what if there was something wrong with you. What if there was something wrong with you that threatened the very fabric of reality for most people. What if your existence somehow challenged every social norm and rule and convention and you couldn't turn it off. What if everywhere you went everyone could see that there was something wrong with you and this being seen was your death because everyone knows what people do with things that are different.

So you pretend - right, you have to pretend. Only the thing that is wrong with you lives in every fiber of your body and every movement your body makes or doesn't make and everyone knows anyways. Everyone knows about the thing that is wrong with you because you are a bad actor (this, in some ways, is a direct result of The Thing That Is Wrong With You) and so you walk around with your shoddy mask and your bad lies and everyone turns up their nose but that doesnt mean you get to stop pretending, no, because you need to want them to like you. They will never like you but you need to want it, you need to want it like a dog. So you stand in the corner and you blink the right amount of times and you wear the thing somebody said once might be the right thing and it eats you up inside but you never get to drop the mask even for a second because THATS the monster, the monster is the thing that lives in your heart, its not the thing they've turned you into. Your rage, your sadness, your pain, your JOY is their monster and who even fucking cares if you can see yourself in the fucking mirror anymore.

You just walk around and nobody will tell you how they know theres something wrong with you and you have to imagine its just like fucking glowing in your eyes or some shit. Not that you would know.

[sakurabraches]

Whatever thinking about "The Wicked Witch of the East" again and how all of Nessa's life falls apart. her sister leaves, her father dies, she's in charge of a country that doesn't seem to want her. as silly as her obsession with Boq is, it's their relationship is the only thing in her life that hasn't fallen apart, and she's hoping if she can just keep this one thing together, maybe that means she's alright

As inexcusable as her actions are, Nessa's friends, sister, and father were taken away due to circumstances that aren't really her fault. Boq's the only one left, and he wants to leave to chase some infatuation that's never going to pan out. and in her last solo you can see how genuinely anguished and lonely she is, and how much self loathing is swirling around her head

Alone and loveless here

Just the girl in the mirror

Just her and me

The Wicked Witch of the East

And then she begs Elphaba to stay, to not leave her behind again, and what does Elphaba do. She. Fucking. Leaves. Even if it's for the greater good of freeing the Monkeys, she abandons Nessa at her lowest. As shitty of a sister Nessa is for throwing the blame onto Elphaba, I can't blame her for feeling genuinely betrayed by her leaving

She really does die alone. And after her last onstage appearance, what plays but the NOMTW motif transitioning to Glinda's engagement ball. oh, you thought i could go a whole post without talking about the Nessa Glinda parallels. hahahahaha

[thejohnlockedfemboy]

Nothing Permanent But Change pt.7

cross-posted on ao3

“Come in, Simon.”

Ghost was loitering like a wraith in the open doorway to Price’s office, unwilling to make the first move and encroach on the alpha’s territory. Millen had long since been sent back to his room, Soap pressed to his side for comfort. The beta and xi had curled up in Millen’s bed for some much-needed quiet time.

Swallowing hard, the lieutenant slowly shuffled into the room. For once, both his mask and balaclava were off, exposing his scarred, bloodless face. He was trembling steadily, feeling like he was back in primary school, being called into the principal’s office for scrapping on the playground. Or worse, the situation stirred up memories that had been buried deep for decades, of when his father would arrive home, booze-blearied and foul-tempered, and find some feeble excuse to beat Simon until he couldn’t get up from the floor. Better him than Tommy, though.

Price was sitting in his chair, taking in a long drag from a cigar. He breathed out the smoke and looked up. He gestured towards the seat opposite to his side of the desk. “Sit.”

Ghost shut the door behind him, keeping his head bowed. He had no scent to declare submission with, so he was forced to use his body language as much as possible. He said nothing, just slowly sat down, shoulders hunched and breaths stuttering silently.

Price shifted, and Ghost flinched, his arm coming halfway up instantaneously to block a hit that was never coming. Price’s stern expression softened ever-so-slightly.

“Simon,” he said firmly. “Look at me.”

Ghost’s tongue darted out to wet his chapped lips before he tore his gaze from the hardwood to look at his captain. He stared like a man awaiting an execution sentence.

Price stood. Ghost tensed at the movement, the strictly military part of his brain registering it as a threat. Price, however, just walked around the desk, stopping beside Ghost’s chair. He rested one hand on the lieutenant’s shoulder, making him go even more rigid, hazel eyes rolling up in fear like a spooked horse. But Ghost still didn’t move an inch, his bloodshot stare locked on to one of the empty areas of the wall straight ahead.

“Simon,” Price said quietly. Ghost still didn’t move, just trembled.

Price cupped the hinge of the lieutenant’s jaw to turn his face upwards. “Look at me, Simon. I’m not him.”

Ghost — Simon — choked down a surge of tangled emotion. It settled like a lump at the end of his esophagus. Factually, he knew that Price was not like his father. Simon wasn’t here to be hurt. Reprimanded, yes. Punished, likely— deservedly. But Price surely would never…

Price’s thumb, the pad rough from a lifetime of hard service, grazed over Simon’s squared cheekbone. The motion was so tender that it had Simon struggling not to break down into tears.

“I’m not him,” Price repeated, for only Simon’s ears to hear in the stillness of the room. “I will never lay a hand on you unless you want me to. You can screw up, you can make me mad, but no matter what, I would never hurt you. Do you understand?”

“C-Captain—“ Simon’s voice broke, and he was desperately fighting down a sob of wretched, pathetic proportions. He gulped in a breath and pressed his face against Price’s palm. “John—“

“Shh,” Price murmured, leaning down to kiss the crown of Simon’s temple, where there was a thin line of scar tissue from an old knife graze. “It’s alright, son. You’re not in trouble. What happened today was a trauma response. I just need you to tell me what triggered it, and where your head was at when you lost it.”

Simon gave a broken whimper as Price straightened back up, losing the closeness between them. The noise would have been comical coming from just an absolute unit of a man, had his misery not been so clearly written across his features.

“I— it was Soap,” Simon finally managed to say through hiccuping breaths. “I knew they were only playing, but— but Soap hit the ground and ‘e sounded hurt, and it was exactly like at Las Almas when he was shot, John, and everythin’ happened so fast, he was on ‘is back and I ‘ad to protect him—“

Price pressed a finger to Simon’s lips, stopping the younger man’s spiral before it could reach a full nosedive. “Alright. Alright, that’s all I needed to know.”

Simon was white-knuckling the armrests of the chair, struggling to maintain his fragile composure. “I d-didn’t— mean to—“

Price soothed the lieutenant with another chaste kiss to the forehead, and then carefully tugged him to stand. Simon was taller than him like this, but that didn’t matter in the moment. Price stroked the san’s cropped hair, admiring the gentle curls that were the color of cornsilk. “You’re still a good boy,” Price reassured him, and Simon melted into his touch, chin resting against Price’s neck. In return, Price encircled his arms around Simon’s waist, holding him loosely so that the lieutenant had the option to escape if he wanted to.

“You’re to apologize to Millen,” Price decided, though his tone was not purposefully cruel, even if what he was saying would cut deep into Simon’s pride. It was necessary to smooth over incidents between packmates as soon as possible, lest negative feelings be given time to fester. The worst-case scenario in any pack — especially military ones — was a subordinate having to fear his superior as the result of one bad encounter.

“What if I scared ‘im off?” Simon asked despondently, still drooped against his captain’s warm, stolid body.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“But what if—“

Price shushed his lieutenant by running a hand up and down the ridged length of his spine, feeling the bumps of each vertebrae. Some were a bit out of place or slightly lumpy, a result of dozens of injuries over as many years, and it made the area sensitive. Knowing this, Price was taking full advantage of it. Simon gave a hoarse moan as Price’s skilled fingers dug into a hard mound of tissue just at the base of his back, forcing the muscle to spasm sharply and then relax.

“Y’tense,” Price muttered in a voice that was tinged with amusement. He repeated the action, and Simon instinctively tried to pull away. Price allowed him.

“Okay?” Pruce questioned, and Simon gave a small nod. He rubbed at the back of his neck hesitantly, then leaned forward to nuzzle against Price’s prickly muttonchops— marking the captain as his even though he had no pheromones with which to do so.

Price rumbled approvingly, and rubbed against Simon’s packmark— a clear pink indent on a circle of otherwise unblemished skin. It was the only mark there was room for, as to both the left and right sides of Simon’s neck were ragged swathes of scar tissue: deep, criss-crossing cuts, chunks cut from his flesh as if he were a Thanksgiving ham to be diced and served upon a platter. His scent glands had been gouged out with vigor. The entire grisly mess had been cauterized, leaving various different shades of greyish-red where the burns had not healed well.

The disfigurement was courtesy of Manuel Roba. The torture Simon had underwent at the hands of the cartel overlord had permanently crippled his former dynamic as an alpha.

Simon hated his scars. Hated how his body no longer functioned because of what had been taken from him. He didn’t understand how Price could gently knead the welted flesh and not feel disgust, and yet every chance he had, the captain continued to do so.

“Proud of you for tellin’ me what happened, pup,” said Price. He gripped Simon’s scruff, nudging the taller man down so he could peck a quick kiss to the cicitrixes that peeked out above Simon’s high shirt collar. “Won’t have you talk to the staff sergeant yet tonight. Give him a day to calm down, then I’ll oversee the both of you, keep things friendly.”

Simon nodded in agreement, trying to push his head against Price’s cheek again. He gave a whine that was more of a constriction of air high in his nasal passages than something actually audible, but Price got the message just fine.

“Come on, pup, let’s head to my quarters. You could use a little skin-on-skin, eh?” Price guided Simon to the door with a hand on the small of his back, and Simon whimpered happily in response.

“Want me to text Johnny, see if he wants to join?” Price offered, figuring that Roach or Gaz could take over for the beta on xi nest-sharing duties. Simon nodded fervidly, the thought of his bondmate making his previously dulled eyes light up.

Price plucked his phone from his pocket, tapping on it several times before the screen lit up. He really had preferred his old flip-phone, but Gaz had got him this fancy Android for Christmas last year, and how could Price say no to his boy? The captain had let his beta show him how to work the maddeningly complex electronic until he finally had a very, very basic grasp on how to work the blasted thing. It took the captain nearly a full two minutes, but he managed to send Soap a text.

P: My room. Simon.

He tried to send one of the little ghost emojis, and ended up misclicking and sending two crying cats and a trombone instead. After a moment, a bubble with three blinking dots appeared on Soap’s side of the chat app, and then his reply arrived.

S: On it. ETA three minutes, have to grab Roach to stay with Millen. He’s still a wee bit shaken up.

Price managed to send a thumbs-up and then stuffed his phone back into his pocket. Simon was waiting anxiously by the door, sniffing the air to try and pick up any trace of his bondmate. Price slipped his own hand into Simon’s, rubbing over knuckles swollen and split from the san’s favorite pastime— the gym’s punching bag. “Come on, love. Johnny’ll be along shortly.”

They walked together to Price’s quarters, which were quite spacious due to his large pack size and rank as an officer. The bed was the width and length of two queen-sized put together, a size sold specifically for pack alphas to provide prime nesting space for their omegas and betas, and covered with thick quilts and pillows, all scented thoroughly by all of the 141. There was a small couch and a few beanbags clumped to one side, along with a closet and a dresser filled with memorabilia.

Because the 141 were only a pack of five, they didn’t qualify to have a shared housing unit outside of the barracks. If they had only one more official packmate, they would be upgraded to something more like a two-story flat, with a large bedroom and bathroom at the upper floor and a common room, kitchen, and spare room at the ground level, the space primed to strengthen the pack’s bonds by way of constant proximity.

As they were, spread out between hallways, it put stress on them all. Soap and Ghost didn’t even have a two-person room to share despite being bondmates. The brass was so far behind on the permit paperwork for proper pack lodgings that it was frustrating. They had all been waiting years now.

Price guided Simon down into bed and began to strip off the san’s boots and outer gear, until he was just in his plain black boxers. Knowing that Simon got cold easily, Price grabbed one of his long-sleeved shirts from one of the dresser drawers and managed to wrangle the already-purring younger man into it before shucking off his own clothes, down to just his shorts, as well, which were, of course, camouflage-printed. John Price truly was a military man, through and through.

After they were both a bit more comfortable, Price lowered himself down beside Simon with a soft groan, his stiff joints easing into the mattress. He pulled Simon to his chest, claiming him as the little spoon. It was their usual position, and one that made Simon feel safe and protected.

The door brushed open and then closed back, and the familiar outline of Soap entered the room. He barked softly to announce his presence to Simon, who raised his head instantly, keening excitedly in response.

Soap dipped his head momentarily to let Price chuff against his right scent gland, for once playing the part of a respectful subordinate. Then the Scottish beta crawled up to entangle himself with his bondmate, and Simon latched onto him like a large British octopus. Price dragged the blankets over the three of them and slung his leg over Simon’s to hook his foot under Soap’s knee, refusing to let either of his boys move even an inch away from him. Perhaps he should have let Ghost and Soap to have some private time, as mates, but he granted himself the right to be selfish, for once, and breathed in the musky salt heat of the two men cozied up at his side.

“Ye alrigh’, Si, lovey?” Soap murmured, nudging his nose into Ghost’s eye socket. Ghost huffed and curled his arm over Soap’s face in response, disgruntled.

“‘M not a child,” Ghost muttered. “Not a lovey.”

“But ye are,” said Soap, voice muffled, and he nibbled at Ghost’s arm through his shirt sleeve. “Yer my lovey. Mah wee little alpha.”

Ghost’s expression flashed with pain for a moment, and his brows drew together, suddenly looking far more downcast. Both Price and Soap noticed the change at once, and two sets of kisses were placed upon Ghost’s cheeks. The san squirmed and tried to hide himself under one of the pillows, but Price dragged him back up for more attentive care.

“‘M— not—“ Ghost pawed at Soap as the beta tried to work his way under Ghost’s shirt. “Not an alpha. Anymore.”

“Maybe not,” Price concurred, voice a throaty catch, like an old station wagon puttering to life. “But you’re still our Simon.”

“Aye,” agreed Soap. He huffed indignantly as Ghost tried again to escape. “Stop movin’, ye git, Ah’m tryna show ye tha’ Ah love ye!”

Price chuckled and bumped his knuckles against Soap’s scrunkly mohawk. “He won’t let you. Stubborn little pup.”

“Which one of us are ye talkin’ aboot?” Soap laughed, nipping at Price’s fingers. “Being stubborn, Ah mean.”

Price smirked, adjusting himself so he could keep Ghost linked onto his elbow and Soap clinging to his leg. “The both of you. Muppets.”

“Old man,” Soap shot back, earning him a half-hearted swat. “Ow!”

“Call me old again,” Price warned, though he was mostly teasing, “and I’ll show you young whelp just how much life I still have in me.”

“A reanimated corpse would ‘ave more stamina than you,” said Ghost, prodding directly at the bit of Price’s ego that he knew would bruise the easiest. “Y’ nearly ready for retirement, captain. Didn’t that nice waitress give y’ the senior discount at that diner in Worcestershire?”

Price growled low, Ghost’s words thudding directly into their mark like a heavy sniper’s slug. His scent flared with irritation that he swiftly tamped down, unwilling to allow himself to be angry with Simon, even to the smallest degree. Instead, what seeped in was a fondness that he had acknowledged years ago. It had originally sprung up without warning like some scam ad in an opened tab of a phishy website— just the presence of his boys infected the hardwired code of his instincts, converting what had once been a hardened, take-no-bullshit heart into something paternal. Imagine that: his own bloody biology had betrayed him, turned him into some sort of mother hen.

But he could never deny that he didn’t love every second spent with his pack. Price had never gotten to nurture that side of himself before he had taken Simon and the rest of the 141 under his wing, and it felt good to look over the sound bodies of the little family he had gathered together and know that he had done his job well for the day. So long as each member of the unit was alive and breathing, Price was content. Even if they all were cheeky mongrels and he wanted to smack some sense of respect into them.

Soap wriggled further beneath Price, until he was laying under both of the captain’s legs and smooshing his entire cranium into Ghost’s stomach. The spoiled little bastard wanted attention; he always did.

Price absentmindedly rubbed at the top of Soap’s head with his sock-clad foot, like one would do with a beloved pet that was too far out of arm’s reach. Soap didn’t appear to mind, and he settled back down with a purr. Ghost grumbled fussily, clearly nettled that Price hadn’t risen to the bait.

“Y’know, you’re gettin’ more complacent in your old age,” Ghost declared, and his shit-eating temptation was more akin to Soap than himself. Maybe the sergeant’s cocky attitude was finally rubbing off on him, dissolving subliminally into Ghost’s personality without either of them knowing or. Or maybe Simon just wanted to push the limits of what he knew Price would allow after the stress of the day.

“And you’re getting to be more of a brat,” snorted Price. “Don’t test me, pup. I can still bend you over my knee well enough.”

“Negative, sir, it would blow out the joint. You’d need surgery for it,” Simon replied, completely deadpan. It wasn’t a completely empty threat on Price’s part; the captain had taken the lieutenant across his lap more than once when Simon needed to let go of some of his hurting by replacing it with a pain he could control. It worked exemplarily for the times when Simon needed discipline, when he was probing at the thinnest threads that might snap at the right pressure.

Price grunted. “Behave.”

Simon licked his lips. There was that tone he’d been waiting to hear, the one he craved like a hit. It was hotter than the burn of any whiskey and more euphoric than the menthol smoke of his favorite cigarette brand. It was a slavery to a chemical high and it made him want to drop to his knees and beg to be sacrificed at the altar of Price’s authority.

Price caught Simon’s expression and raised one bushy eyebrow. “Randy, are we?”

“No, he’s Simon,” Soap giggled from beneath Price’s legs. He was kneading quite shamelessly at Ghost’s arse, and apparently thought that his own joke was worthy of Charlie Chaplin. They shared the same grin, anyway.

“S’funny, Johnny.” Ghost ground back against the beta’s hands until Price whapped the both of them with a pillow.

“Control yourselves,” the captain chastised them. “If you feel well enough to be flirting, Simon, then you’re feeling well enough to get out of my bed.”

Ghost immediately stilled and curled into Price’s side, playing dead. “Can’t move. ‘M asleep.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Price’s lips. That ploy always worked. He squeezed Ghost’s thick bicep.  “Good lad.”

Soap rested his head against Ghost’s latissimus dorsi, and the lieutenant’s hand inched down to pet at his bondmate. Soap’s eyes closed and he sighed in gratification.

“Johnny?”

Soap’s eyes opened again, and he swiveled his head to peer up at Ghost. “Aye?”

Ghost’s voice faltered briefly. “I… the staff sergeant. Is he—?”

“He’s fine, L.t.” Soap gave a small grin. “He’s tougher than ‘e looks. To be fair, though, being set upon wi’ yer fangs would scare anybody.”

Ghost knew that Soap was trying to make light of the situation— the lieutenant had already told his sergeant why he had attacked Millen during the time Ghost was in his room, being brought back to reality enough to face Price. Las Almas had been a traumatic experience for Ghost and Soap both, neither knowing if they would ever see each other again or if they would make it out alive. It was that mission that had brought them together to court for the first time afterwards. Even with the lingering echo of gunshots in their skulls, they wouldn’t trade what had happened for anything.

“Gettin’ in y’ heid,” Soap chided. Ghost blinked back to himself once more. How did both the captain and sergeant always know when he was becoming lost to the past? It was almost uncanny how in-tune they were with his mannerisms, recognizing entire confessionals in the way his nose scrunched up at an unwelcome memory or when his fingers twitched for a gun that wasn’t there.

Ghost made himself fill his lungs and then slowly exhale. He counted to ten and then felt the urge to check the perimeter of the room fade. They were safe here. Price always made sure of that.

“That’s better,” Soap said, satisfied. He chewed insistently at Ghost’s hand until the petting resumed, and Price tangled his fingers into Ghost’s hair in a mirror of the action.

It was pack, plain and simple. Love, trust, and years of codependency wound into a protective shield for the three of them. They all smelled of each other. They knew each other and knew that their presence was one that meant security.

Later on, Ghost would have make up for what he’d done to Millen, and hope that the xi wouldn’t be affixed in his terror of him. Price would be there to smooth over the transition as best he could. Soap would excel in his role of moral support once the confrontation was over.

But for now, they could stay in their nest, and know that things were okay. 

[khattikeri]

there's something so odd yet fascinating about how fanworks for mxtx's books tend to misinterpret the literal protagonists of her stories more than any other characters

[chocodile]

Small character detail I have no good excuse to mention: Hyden hates anything remotely similar to "fast food". This applies to all AUs. He finds greasy, cheap, oversalted/overly sugary food disgusting. Additionally, he hates--HATES--messy food. The only foods he will eat with his hands are ones that are very clean and dry and leave no residue. Getting some sort of sauce or grease on his hands is one of the worst sensations in the world (doubly so when he's a bunny… to be fair, can you imagine eating barbecue while wearing fur mittens? Ew!)

When he was younger, he was slightly more flexible on these limitations. Here he is eating a "ham burger" normally to show how normal he is. He is fitting in with the common man. He is pulling it off. He's got this. Look how relaxed he is. You could almost miss the Rolex on his wrist.

Of course, every rule has its exceptions. As has been mentioned before Hyden often has no idea where food comes from or what goes into it. At some point, somebody failed to mention to him that Cinnabons come from kiosks at the mall and cost less than $100 each. Therefore, they escaped his "fast food is disgusting and I hate it" filter, and, in a modern AU, became one of his favorite desserts. He has a pastry or two each morning with his coffee and then wonders why he never seems to lose any weight.

[bugsinshoes]

random aysel + aysel adjacent doodle dump,,,,,,,, ya

[akirakirxaa]

Akira, unable to sleep laying down but also unable to hold herself upright for long periods thanks to her injuries, petitioned Hades for help. Hades, unable to tell her no after everything she'd been through - that he'd put her through -, obliged. Hythlodaeus, returning home from a fitting session with Tataru (who would not take no for an answer on making them suitable clothes to fit in with the sundered world), joined in the cuddle pile on the bench. Despite being propped against a hard wall, legs and arms slowly falling asleep from the weight of his loves, Hades had not slept so well in centuries.

Bonus End page

[iwasbored777]

Sometimes I'm like "my Gwiles posts aren't as popular as they used to be that's cuz no one is in the mood for Spiderverse anymore" and then I see the rest of Gwiles posts in the tag and how many notes they have and I realize that there are still people in the mood for Spiderverse but I just lost a lot of Spiderverse mutuals when I was in my DreamWorks Trolls era

[w1ngedv01d]

Hermitcraft/Life Series Characters that are not explicitly married (platonically or romantically) in canon, but give off the Vibes:

Impulse and Skizz

Scar and Grian

Mumbo and Grian (they share)

Jimmy and Martyn

Joe and Cleo

...I would have put Ren and Doc but.... I don't think they count... anymore-

[house-of-tales]

asmaticbomb enviou uma ask: "...uhh, Laios, o botão parece que vai explodir..." (do Kabru)

"Hm?" e olhou para a camisa, logo reparando no que Kabru queria dizer. É...o botão estava pedindo socorro e Laios estava sem saber o que pensar a respeito "Tá mesmo...o que eu faço? Não é bom eu sair andando assim, né."

[butterrdream]

The Inkwell Series

Hello, allow me to introduce my KHR (not historically accurate whatsoever) regency AU loosely inspired by the Bridg/erton series, which I have lovingly named The Inkwell Series! (When I say not historically accurate I mean it. it takes place in a made up place/country/world I'm just kinda borrowing the aesthetic pls don't come for me)

Basic Premise: The arcobaleno are all siblings (most of them are half-siblings all sharing the same father... it's complicated. Also Colonnello is not related to them for obvious reasons) and it's a series that follow them and their individual love stories. Yep... That's it... That's the premise lol. First, I should say this is a very OC heavy series so if you somehow stumble upon this post and expect just canon characters please look away now while you still have the chance!

A little more details about this AU! It's a series totaling 7 parts/books. Each following a different sibling as the main protagonist for their own story. The current order which may change (except the first three as those fluidly lead into each other. It's just the last five which may change orders) is, Book 1: Luce, Book 2: Reborn, Book 3: Lal, Book 4: Fon, Book 5: Verde, Book 6: Skull, Book: 7: Mammon. Only Luce's book has a proper name currently so I'll wait until I figure the rest out before saying them. Also the order of the books don't dictate the birth order of the siblings but I will say in this AU Luce is the oldest. Actually this is getting a little long let me put everything under the cut including the designs I currently have. Design and more ramblings under the cut!! ↓

Current birth order is: Luce, Reborn, Verde, Fon, Lal Mirch, Skull, Mammon. Lal and Mammon share the same mom so when you look at the birth order... You know there is scandal involved ❤️ (Well, actually there is lowkey scandal/hot gossip involved in all their births except Luce's) They are all from a very prestigious noble house (a dukedom), with no current heir named. But it would seem someone has their eyes on the title...

Now let me show you the designs I have so far!

Luce and Dante

Eldest daughter and the socialite of high society, Luce, and her quiet, unassuming husband, Dante. They say it's a true match made in heaven, a very rare love match... But perhaps there's more than meets the eye and this loving pair aren't quite as they say they are.

Reborn and Apple

The charismatic, well-loved (and just as well feared) eldest son, Reborn and... A random woman? When the (in)famous duke's son suddenly comes back from his travels claiming a woman of mysterious origins as his new wife, it leaves high society in a state shock at the scandal. What's more, now he's also brought back a just as questionable boy claiming him to be the next heir to the throne!?

Lal Mirch and Colonnello

First time debutante, Lal Mirch meets the troublesome colonel. But it would seem this is not a first meeting at all... Two childhood friends are brought back together by fate, and with their reunions comes old unresolved feelings, and the crushing reality of society's expectations and the social divide that continue to keep them apart.  (Lal's first design is her debutante dress which she is very unhappily wearing lol)

And many more to come!

[padfootastic]

ok sorry to keep talking ab this man on my page but i’m going insane rn like remus and his lycanthropy is SUCH a weird plot point i’m so confused??????

if he was only outed in PoA, and no one knew ab him until then, then what’s going on?????? HOW DOES ANYTHING ELSE MAKE SENSE????

why is he not getting jobs if he’s not out. why could he not have seen harry if he’s not out. why would the ministry have hypothetically withheld him from seeking guardianship etc etc like so many fics say.

if he’s on some werewolf registry, then how was he in hogwarts. did he fall through the cracks. did no one realise that wolfy mcwolf, from the registry, is also enrolled in and graduating from hogwarts, especially as INFAMOUS MARAUDERS WHO ARE KNOWN A DECADE AFTER THEY LEFT????? i thought it was only his lycanthropy that was to be hidden, not his entire existence bc then he wouldnt be friends w such high profile mfs 😭😭😭😭

and also!!! the first war!!!!!!!!! i know we talked ab this on my blog and a LOT of anons chimed in but i’m still running around in circles tryna figure out why everyone was suspicious of him in the first war. especially if he wasn’t working w werewolf packs (like some pointed out; apparently he only did this in the second war??? which makes sense bc he could do it only after he was OUTED) then wtf was he doing and why was he suddenly suspicious. in any case, it couldn’t have been linked to his lycanthropy right? ugh.

like. him as a teacher could only have worked if people didn’t know. but does that mean if the parents/public didn’t know? (which is what snape targeted)? or does it mean that the ministry didn’t either? bc if the ministry did, then how was he allowed. does dumbledore have THAT much power and if yes, then why is this the only wack decision he took? if the ministry didn’t know, then that means that remus was effective a fully human wizard for atleast 33 (?) years of his life. WHICH MAKES A LOT OF HIS ACTIONS AND ATTITUDES EVEN WORSE?????

(again, i know there’s doylist explanations but what are the watsonion ones. i need to know)

[heterochromatica]

"Whats the point of arm wrestling?"

[saphstories]

Welcome to This Day Masterpost

Hi gang! Welcome to the Masterpost for my own Sonic-Verse! So what are we waiting for? Let's do it to it!

Canon Continuities: (A list of what is canon to my Sonic-Verse to avoid confusion. Will be updated as the Universe grows to limit spoilers! 😉 Please note that I have taken creative liberties with all listed to better fit my AU! As always, you can always ask me questions if curious or confused!)

All Mainstream Sonic Games.

All IDW Sonic Comics.

Written Works: (Will be arranged in chronological timeline order as they are posted!)

I'll Be There Just For You: When a stubborn little fox kit refuses to go to bed, his big brother knows just what to do to convince him.

Lullaby Sleight: When Shadow refuses to rest, Rouge takes it upon herself to see that he does.

Worth It All: She didn't get it, did she? She didn't understand that he did it for her. That she was worth it all.

Clichés: There were many clichés about love. But maybe... maybe this one wasn't.

To Those Who Wait: Amy had waited patiently for Sonic all this time, and now it was his turn.

Beauty: Some beauty is fleeting, but some... some is ethereal, priceless, greater than the wildflowers on a summer day...

Coffee, Chocolates, and Diamonds: When Shadow's request for a coffee date is a little... out of the ordinary, Rouge knows her beloved has something up his quills. Who else other than the Ultimate Lifeform could get one over the Ultimate Thief? But Rouge knew she'd be lying to say she didn't enjoy the thrill of the game. Especially today.

I'm Already There: Amy Rose finds herself missing her Sonic while he's away. Sonic reminds her that she doesn't need to.

Welcome to This Day, or Saph's Sonic-Verse, was inspired by @the-sky-queen's own Sonic-Verse and @e-vay's Evay AU! Go show these awesome creators the love they deserve!

Thanks so much for checking out the Welcome to This Day Masterpost! I really hope you enjoy my Sonic-Verse! We've got so many adventures with the Blue Blur up and coming, so stay tuned!