#call it an effect of being raised with ‘Paranoid Parents’

[amelia-sun]

one day,,, i will let myself be cringe and free,,, one day,,

[jozlyn-moon]

The Cipher Twins

Ford’s Journal Entry:

(It’s long! And one of the first Journal Entries I’ve gone fully into making!)

“How and Why that devil managed to “conceive”, and I use this term loosely, is beyond me. Especially when it’s taken in mind how careful with planning he chooses to be. But the outcome of two children that share such gains of his power is.. well- reckless, but that does give us a view that he isn’t as on his game as much as he once was, which in my eyes shows as a beacon of hope. Continuing though-

These two have been an eye opening pain in the ass to deal with in all the years that they’ve had to be in my life… and that’s saying quite a bit. From the oddities that sprout from their father’s genes to the oddities that come from each of their unique personalities that stem from their own special quirks, to study them has been an experience. Though, if I shouldn’t lie.. I may have chosen a favorite of the two for one reason or another and even if either manages to get a hand on my writing their opinion would not much matter in the end.

To begin on the first, Lily Cipher, a rambunctious but albeit pleasant kid to be around. An attribute which I could only give thanks to in the mother’s raising of both of the twins which I presumed had fortunately been enough to quell any evil nature that may have been held in her soul. Along with the fact that there had been no contact with the father in her and her sibling’s upbringing. Ignoring that fact- She can be described as a great help around the lab, seeing as age and stress have worn down my ability to keep steady with my motor and cognitive skills… she comes in handy as a shockingly fast learner, but to no surprise really as much as I don’t want to point the praise at where the origin of the ability may have come from, I do have my guesses to who it was passed down from.

She is a very curious and hyperactive child as well, being quite fascinated in the little things and anything that moves, she could only remind me of Mabel in her younger years in the most bitter sweet way possible. I pray for the moment that she’s alright.. but besides that point-

I find that she’s been a large help in also understanding, if not, being able to decrypt the genetics of my enemy, with her ability to shape shift into a form similar to the beings of Bill’s late home dimension, flatlanders as they’re called, she has given key samples of skin and DNA that have properties no normal being can handle nor have. I believe she and her brother are direct keys in Bill’s downfall. And while I wish to be optimistic to the outcomes of their existence at the current time, I do hold dread for whats to come. As while I may have positive outcomes with the more sweet hearted sibling… I have trouble describing the short tempered and snide one as such. Liam is another whole pile of bones to dissect but i’ll get to his summary soon enough.

Lily, and what baffles me the most about her, is how something so, well giddy and sweet by nature, can come out of such a creature that can be so, by choice, dangerously and maliciously evil. But then again, that damn triangle had always had his charms at his hand, so it wouldn’t be a complete surprise if that had passed along to his spawn.

And as much as I want to be paranoid of my enemy’s daughter, seeing first hand her grow up with no influence of her father’s morals and presence due to her mother separating from that devil before either of the twins were born- it lets me ponder on the thought of the nature vs nurture theory and how whether or not natures of the parents pass down to the kin and how much it actual effects their psyche.

Albeit with Lily, she works on her own will with a good moral stand point and natural urge to uplift others in sometimes slightly odd but endearing ways. Though i’m afraid that it’s her brother that leaves me still questioning the nature vs. nurture stand point, as I couldn’t say the same completely for her twin.

Liam Cipher, a more reserved kid but leaning on socially aloof by choice, is one who leaves me sleeping with one eye open. Literally. Seemingly gained the temper of his father along with a slew of other worrying traits that I would rather not be in the presence of while someone has lit his fuse. He is the sole reason why I had to ban or at the least limit the use of both of their magic to the mundane and simple party tricks after an incident with him that cost me half my sight with a fit he threw when he was younger.

Though as his mother insists to me greatly, it’s not the child’s fault for the traits he was born with, he can’t help himself she claims. And while true to some extents I can’t help but feel the dread towards the thought of another Bill like being sprouting due to the “freak accident” of them being somehow made into existence. From the personality to even the damn voice that the kid shares with himself and his devil of a father, I can’t just shake off the feeling of a tense shiver that always crawls up my back when thinking of him growing older.

The only saving grace, and what calms my already paranoid nerves falls upon the ones I could think have a good hand in quelling those unsavory traits, the one’s I label the family buffers. I.e his mother, sister, and at times the cousins that are there to talk him down out of a potential blow out. I couldn’t even dare muster the thoughts to wonder what he’d turn to if his mother nor his “siblings”, if I could even loosely consider the cousins as such, weren’t there to quell his snappy nature. But for the sake of my cortisol levels, I can’t let those scenarios overcome my already racing thoughts because I have enough to deal with now in taking care of both of the twins that have been enough of a hassle on my growing age.

Liam for the most part has made it clear that he has a distaste for me, I believe sprouting from my coldness towards his mother for being deceptive at the beginning of our begrudging guardianship over the kids. And he places it as if I have no good reason, if it wasn’t clear that I have some bother that hiding the children of that damned demon under my nose with what current family I have left wasn’t something to not be chastised for. Not to mention that her withholding from the implicit truth had allowed me and my great great niece and nephew to harbor an attachment to the twins which if I had known before hand their origin… would not have ended well for her.

But I am not heartless, I do understand the fears that may have accompanied the weight of telling the truth at the time. And I’ve learnt that I shouldn’t be one to not swallow my pride and say I know I would have probably acted rashly. But as someone who freshly lost what family they had left at the time I feel as if it would’ve been just.

I don’t hate either of them, even while one may be more a pain in the ass than the other. I do believe I care for them in some sense. Liam is a help to me greatly, I won’t downplay that factor at all, he’s the one that helps me draw in the newer journal entries and goes out to scout with Chloe to do some cartography of the surrounding landscape. A quirk he seems to be great at with a sense of great direction and keen eyesight, something even younger me couldn’t get down right away. My body can only do so much these days as I’ve already made my point earlier that my hands and even now legs can’t do what they did often like they used to.

He’s smart, more smart than he gives himself props for, he knows how to channel a certain charisma and silver tongue that lets him find the best supplies, of course if it isn’t the case that he had stole them in the first place. And like his sister, there is no second thought to where he got that ability from, but it’s better to not dwell on it, just for my sake at least.

Both are a handful in their own ways, but they have grown on me- and they do hold insight in how we may be able to stop weirdmaggedon once and for all.

And I pray that it can be in time.”

(If you made it down here thanks for reading it! I want to make sure I have Ford’s characterization down to some extent 😭 My grammar may not be all that great but I tried lol)

[princess-of-the-corner]

Ooh Ranma 1/2, so much fun gender and sexuality stuff there.

I tend to go with gender fluid or trans girl Rama, the latter being especially rooted in the fact Ranma generally seems a lot happier in curse mode and across the manga says and does a lot of things indicate a deep sense of connection with her cursed form. While everything to do with her birth body is wrapped up in duty and social expectations.

Ryoga did indeed get upset that Ranma complained about her curse, something to the effect of "You call having a huggable body like that a curse!?" So its very easy to read her as trans too :3c I love utilizing Ryoga's fangs and saying the Hibiki family are descended from Oni whose mountain was destroyed & so they have no internal compass.

I feel like Ukyo is tragically underutilized and frankly could have easily served as the 'main rival' to Ranma though it'd likely have been more tragic in tone. Also very much lean on Ukyo being gender fluid, or a very specific (But variable) exploration of butch womanhood.

Shan Pu just doesn't put labels on sexuality and the concept is rather weird to her, though she'll occasionally play into "Normal" social roles if it lets her antagonize someon- Akane, she antagonizes Akane.

Akane also has ISSUES due to the social pressures put on girls, her own complicated relationship with femininity, and it all got violently magnified by the boys morning charge. Hence why she's soo aggressively closed off to some stuff like Ranma's curse, or sexuality & so committed to being "Normal". & the boys charge for a date is why she tends to have a default "boys are inherently bad" mentality early on.

Also all three Tendo sisters were messed up by their mother dying and their father basically becoming none functional for years. Soun did eventually sort of get his act together as he has some sort of role in the local council, but he's still not really a functional parent.

As a result, Kasumi was parentified and basically forsook anything she wanted to fulfill the role of mother. Akane was such a handful due to her age & her efforts to study martial arts that she became the focus of Kasumi & what little attention Soun had. This left Nabiki feeling disconnected and isolated from her family and with a rather "Take care of myself" mentality. She & Kasumi still have a degree of a bond, as the older sister did compensate for some of Nabiki's more reckless ventures, but also never told her that or confronted her about some of her bad decisions, so Nabiki's only vaguely aware Kasumi has been in her corner. Nabiki also 100% finds Ranma's cursed form attractive.

Tatewaki, for all his shitty behavour otherwise, is actually a surprisingly good big brother to Kodachi, and their dad is fucking AWFUL, so he's actually right to be as paranoid as he is about the guy. Gtrnted being raised by a brother who is 1 year older and ninja servants who enable every unhinged idea one has is who the two are rather childish.

Everyone needs therapy actually.

[whumpster-fire]

Today in my journey of rereading the Redwall series: Salamandastron.

This is definitely another one in the "In a world where racism is objectively true" category. Look I know Urthstripe the Strong's overpowering anger towards vermin to the point of endangering himself and sometimes his allies is sort of portrayed as a character flaw, but when your narrative includes "one of the main good guys is openly speciesist to literal children that his adoptive daughter made friends with" (to the point of going "I almost wish they'd try something" and fantasizing out loud about the biggest guy in the hare army beating them to a pulp when they haven't even done anything at that point) and then this is shown to be the right decision with no other example of someone making a bad call like this, there is very much a moral of "Urthstripe is right, Vermin Are Evil. Even the children."

And... look. I am trying not to make every single vermin character my Poor Little Meow Meow and Klitch as written is basically Joffrey Baratheon with fur, but I am so fucking mad that Jacques refused to do any of the interesting things that could have been done with this character and just made him Ferahgo's sociopathic mini-me. Because there was so much potential here.

Like... imagine if Klitch and Goffa were genuinely trying to get away from Ferahgo's horde but Urthstripe ruined it by making it very clear he wasn't welcome in Salamandastron. And then after Urthstripe throws him out and Mara and Pikkle run away Klitch actually sees Mara as a kindred spirit and is like "Hey, your dad's a dick who tries to control your life and stops you from hanging out with creatures he doesn't approve of, my dad's a dick who tries to control my life and stops me from hanging out with creatures he doesn't approve of, we should team up and run away from our horrible parents together!"

And it's only when they get caught that he pivots to "Hello Father, I have successfully spied on the Badger Lord's mountain and I've brought you two hostages!" because the poor kid's panicking because he knows what his father does to deserters (and he picked the moment he did to try to ditch the Corpsemakers because as far as he knew Ferahgo's best trackers were out chasing Dingeye and Thura). He's been much too well trained at lying to protect himself for Mara or Pikkle to notice.

Also: Klitch trying to act casual about Goffa's death and dismiss him as just a dumb minion while internally losing it because his best friend was just killed right in front of him but he's afraid if he shows any sign of grief Ferahgo will use it against him.

Also Also: the wasted comedy potential of Klitch as a high-ranking general in the Corpsemakers who is only in charge of anything because of nepotism and everyone knows it including him. The troops under his command have absolutely no respect for him and only obey his orders because they're scared of Ferahgo. Klitch does not even want all this responsibility (especially because he's not actually given much freedom to make decisions himself: Ferahgo tends to veto or poke holes in any plan he makes whether it's good or not because Ferahgo is caught between trying to train his son to be an effective warlord and being paranoid about his army being more loyal to Klitch than him so he actively tries to engineer situations that will lose him the respect of the troops). Klitch would actually not be a bad tactician but he is also mutually unable to agree with his father on anything as a matter of principle, and is trying to find the precise level of fucking up that will let him weaponized-incompetence his way into not being put in charge of anything anymore without causing Ferahgo to actually murder or maim him.

...combined with the drama potential of him wanting to be the leader of his own army (because he's been raised in an environment where power means safety) but also feeling trapped because most of the Corpsemakers fucking hate him and if Ferahgo dies and he's "in charge" his only chance of survival is if there are so many creatures trying to assassinate him that they all trip over each other. The horde is going to rally around some other figure who will have Klitch disposed of ASAP even if he tries to abdicate, unless he overthrows his father / wins a major victory on his own in such spectacular fashion that he inherits Ferahgo's reputation for being Not To Be Messed With.

Bonus Points if he uses terrible non-waterproof rope on Sapwood and Oxeye on purpose because that's the kind of fuckup that might be that perfect balance (and also because he fucking hated them from the moment they stood guard outside and wants an excuse to have to kill the escaping hostages) but fucks it up for realsies when they actually manage to kill several beasts and escape.

Double Bonus Points if he gets voluntold to help his dad fight a duel against an angry badger lord despite knowing just how stupid that is, and figures out that he's basically there as a distraction so Ferahgo can stab Urthstripe in the eyes while he's busy curbstomping Klitch's head into pulp.

Triple Bonus Points if instead of Badtooth getting caught by Samkim, Mara, and Co, they run into Klitch, who is trying to make a break for it while the horde is distracted and copy the hares' driftwood escape. And who, after getting absolutely decked by Sapwood and informed that he's the hostage this time, completely loses his cool and begs them not to give him back to Ferahgo because he will definitely be literally skinned alive if Ferahgo finds out about this. Which is when at least one of the adults present is finally clued in that something is wrong if the little brat is more scared of his own father than of the numerous well armed creatures with good reasons to want him dead who are right in front of him.

[the-bau-quinjet]

Round 2: Tik Tok

Bucky x reader

Part 2 to Round 1: Fruit Snacks

Summary: You enlist Peter to help you prank Steve, Sam, and Bucky.

Warnings: Language!

Word Count: 1795

a/n: Ahh, part 2! Gotta love tik tok. This entire part was inspired by the first Chris Evans tik tok I linked... I linked all the tik toks I referenced, but the descriptions in the fic have been edited a bit to better fit the scene!

Masterlist

"Peter!" You called to him from the other end of the hallway as he entered the elevator. "Hold the door!"

He smiled back at you, holding the doors open as you ran down the hallway.

"Perfect. I need your help." You whispered as the doors closed, never knowing if a super soldier could hear you or not. You had an evil glint in your eyes that clearly said you were scheming.

"Oh, okay. What do you need Ms. L/N?" His eyes were wide, never having seen you this devious before.

"Peter. How many times have I told you to just call me Y/N? You make me feel old, and I am not old." You huffed, stalling for time.

"Right, Y/N. Got it. What do you need my help with?" He asked as the elevator doors opened.

You peaked your head, looking both ways before exiting. You gestured for him to follow you, exiting the compound and walking toward the gate where May was picking him up after a date with Happy.

"I need you to play the video on this flash drive at Tony's next party." You said when you reached the end of the driveway, handing him the mentioned flash drive.

"Why?" He took the device, albeit with a bit of hesitation.

"Because, I'm pranking Steve, Sam, and Bucky. They tried to get me the other day and failed miserably. Honestly, just watching them on edge has been great, but it's time for payback." You smirked, knowing the prank wouldn't do any real harm.

"Oh, Mr. Stark told me about that!" His eyes were wide with recognition. "Good job with the fake crying, I would've loved to see it."

"Well, you can help me get them back if you play that on the projector screen at Tony's next party." You nodded toward the flash drive, wanting to confirm the plan.

"What is it?" Peter looked nervous, unsure if he should get involved.

"Don't worry, it's nothing bad. Just a few tik toks I found from fans. Three for each of them." You smirked, already picturing the blushes. This would really get Steve and Bucky more than Sam, but when you came across the first video you couldn't not do it.

"Alright. I'm in!" He smiled, happy to help you. "But, why can't you just play the video?" He questioned, obviously not well versed in the world of pranks.

"Because, if they see me doing anything out of the ordinary at the party, they'll know something's up. I have to act normal, so it's a surprise." You outline the plan, explaining the need for two people.

"Why me?" He asked again, genuinely curious.

"Because, they won't think I'd go to you for help. They think you'll do anything to get them to stop teasing you, so they won't see it coming."

Peter nodded, understanding your logic. "Wow. You've really thought of everything." He smiled as May pulled up.

"I know. It's going to be great." You smirked, turning and running back inside before anyone could see you.

-

The night of the party, it took everything in you not to wear the world's biggest smirk.

Sam, Bucky, and Steve have been on edge ever since your warning, waiting for you to strike. They were huddled by the bar, appearing deep in conversation.

"Hi boys." You greeted them from behind, causing them to jump at the intrusion.

Sam recovered first, smirking at you. "Y/N. We've got a theory."

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

"You warned us about your next prank, and then planned nothing." You bit your lip, trying to appear deep in thought.

"Interesting theory. What do you have to support it?" You tilted your head to the side, waiting for more of an explanation.

"It's been a week, and you haven't done anything." Steve started, less confident than Sam, but still sounding sure.

"I haven't?" You questioned, enjoying watching them squirm. "You sure?"

Bucky shook his head with a grin. "You're doing it again. Trying to make us paranoid."

Your gave them your sweetest smile, running your hand up and down Bucky's arm. "Whatever you say, dear." You said it with mock reassurance, then walked away grinning.

The three men shared a look, trying not to seem overly paranoid, but failing.

-

You felt eyes on you for the entire party. There was never a minute at least one of them wasn't watching your every move. You were fairly certain they were even keeping tabs on Wanda and Nat, just to make sure you hadn't enlisted their help.

You chatted with Nat, Wanda, and Pepper, danced for a bit, and ate some food, all while ignoring their stares.

Around 9:30, Peter managed to get the video queued up. All eyes were on the projector screen at the sudden noise.

A tik tok started playing, flashing different images of Steve as the music played.

"Hush hush hush, blush blush blush, you are now my big fat crush."

Steve's face grew redder as the video played, turning into a tomato by the end.

"Love me, and hug me, and touch me. And well, fuck me."

Another video immediately started playing, also featuring pictures of Steve.

The caption read "Let me present to you: Steve Rogers Walking" backed by some sexy music.

"When marimba rhythm starts to play, dance with me, make me sway."

Clips of Steve walking, whether it be in uniform from a news clip or in suits from press events, graced the screen.

He was hiding his head in his hands, too embarrassed to even think you could have done this. He had been watching you all night, you couldn't have set up the video.

Bucky and Sam laughed as a third video started to play.

The on screen text read as follows:

"People: how do you sleep at night? Me:"

A girl fell into her bed, swaddled in a blanket covered in pictures of Steve.

The screen flashed black for a few seconds, making everyone think the impromptu display was over. That is, until a new video began playing.

A heavy bass started thumping as a girl appeared on screen, counting down with her fingers along with the sound.

"3, 2, 1."

Sam appeared on screen, a plethora of his most used interview and press clips being played.

He was enjoying the praise, although slightly embarrassed at the video being played in front of all these people.

Another video began playing, showing Sam acting out different Avengers in a game of charades.

"Oh!" It was highly edited to draw attention to his amusing sound effects.

Finally, a clip from an interview Sam did with Steve and Scott came up.

"The problem isn't the kids, the problem is the parents."

You knew he wouldn't be embarrassed by the same things as Steve, so you chose a few random videos you found to call him out for not always thinking before speaking.

The screen flashed black again, transitioning to videos of Bucky.

A clip that had gone viral from Sam's account was edited with new music, resulting in the crowd hearing Bucky say:

"Suck my dick!" Followed by the song "if you gave me a chance, i would take it."

These videos were really just for you. You watched them so many times while looking for the three best ones.

Although, Bucky's wide eyes and rosy cheeks definitely didn't hurt.

The next video began with Sexy Back by Justin Timberlake.

"Take it to the chorus. Come here girl."

Pictures of Bucky flashed across the projector screen, showing off his physique. You don't know where fans find this pictures, but you loved them for it.

The last video of Bucky was a pov someone made about yours and Bucky's relationship. Although the two of you were flirty, nothing had been discussed.

Maybe that's why you chose this one.

You and Bucky were having a fake conversation that went as follows:

Y/N: "Bucky, I like your last name."

Bucky: "Oh thanks, that's sweet."

Then, in sync with the music in the background:

Y/N: "Can I steal it from you?"

Bucky: "Of course, doll."

Y/N: "What'd he sayyyyy?"

The crowd laughed at that one, knowing how the media and fans speculate about your relationship.

Finally, the screen went dark, no more videos lined up to play.

You made your way over to the guys as everyone resumed their normal party activities.

"What a show guys. Really well done. Don't forget to thank your fans." You slow clapped, enjoying their flustered faces.

"How long were you planning that?" Steve, blush just beginning to fade, questioned you.

"I've had the video made for 6 days. I started planning the second you left for the store." You grinned, enjoying the high of a good, harmless prank.

"We've been watching you all night. How did you manage to queue the video?" Sam questioned, eyes narrowed.

"I had help." You shrugged noncommittally. You wouldn't give up Peter's role in the prank unless he wanted you to.

"From? We had eyes on Nat and Wanda." Bucky questioned further, but you just shook your head.

"I can't reveal my sources." You laughed again at their matching looks of annoyance.

Suddenly, something clicked for Bucky.

"So, you chose all of the videos?" He sounded so curious, you couldn't help but fill him in.

"I did. It didn't take long. The internet is full of videos of the three of you. They were pretty fun to look through." You laughed at a few videos you opted to leave out of the montage.

"What's this about you liking my last name then?" Bucky had a new confidence about him with this question.

Having expected this question at some point, you had already thought of how you would answer.

"Well, the fans want what they want. Maybe we should give it to them." You stepped closer as Sam and Steve awkwardly shuffled away.

"You think so, doll?" Bucky relied, hands moving to your waist.

"I don't see why not." You closed the distance, pressing your lips to his in a moment you had been thinking about for months.

You moved together, pulling each other closer even when you were already chest to chest.

Eventually, the sound of a throat clearing caused you to break apart.

Tony was playfully glaring at the two of you.

"L/N, if you ever use my protégé to pull a stunt like that again, at least include some videos of me." He whined.

You laughed at his statement, having expected him to be annoyed at you interrupting his party.

"Can do Stark."

He walked off as you turned back to Bucky, whose mouth was hung open like a fish.

You gave him a questioning look as he sputtered.

"Parker helped you?!"

Permanent tag list:

@averyhotchner

[biteyourcrush]

And while I’m on the subject of human realm, monster realm, and Dr. Mom: a post for the various AUs of her now that I’m thinking about it.

1- The Dr. Francesca Schmidt we’re all familiar with by now. Mother of Victoria Schmidt, ex-wife of Charles Schmidt, escapee to the monster realm after her combination of government-funded mad science and a little bit of necromancy brought her kid back from the dead, before realizing her husband was a warmongering jackass who didn’t even care about them and just wanted to create the perfect weapon with the Schmidt family genius brain and best super-soldier tech they could make. Paranoid shut-in for the most part, until recently. Former adventuring super-scientist. Not easily phased by weird shit anymore.

        -Sub AU of this with @archival-wight‘s Victor and Dr. Schmidt: By pure fucking coincidence, Francesca gets assigned the other Dr. Schmidt as effectively an orientation partner to the monster realm. They both find the situation that two completely unrelated Schmidts- who BOTH have performed Frankenstein-esque experiments and raised the dead- being put together *absolutely* hilarious. Very ironically call each other darling, sweetums, and the like in spite of there being no romantic involvement between the two whatsoever.

2- Grace AU. Pretty similar to the base universe. Francesca cottoned on to Charles’s bullshit pretty early on, divorced and raised Vicky herself for years. Unfortunately, Vicky was in an accident- and Francesca refused to accept that. Cobbled together a MUCH rougher process of revivification practically out of a box of scraps in her garage, but Vicky’s soul was much more at peace and thusly out of her reach- but lo and behold, one Grace Griffin had *also* very recently kicked the bucket, and had enough trauma to keep her soul from moving on easily. Got yoinked from the river styx, shoved inside Vicky’s body, and came clean to Francesca after about five minutes of being alive again- and while Dr. Schmidt was obviously pretty upset, she wasn’t going to just abandon this teenager. Moved to the Monster Realm with Grace’s knowledge of the place, has been working as a teacher at Spooky High.

3- Teacher AU. Dr. Francesca Schmidt, no husband, no kid, just a mad scientist who’s ended up in the Monster Realm and taken up teaching at Spooky High. Free rein for interactions with Other Vickys as the local “Cool teacher who may or may not be something of a pseudo-parental figure like the tropes would have” type person.

[pokelemony]

Today is a good day

word count - 1083 words

-

Today is a good day.

And for once he wasn’t being sarcastic about it, it really was a great day! None of the ghosts were causing any trouble (well, except for minor ghosts like Ectopuses but those were no sweat), he did all his chores, finished all his homework, and he finally has the time to hang out with Sam and Tucker later!

He hummed a tune as he relaxed, floating in mid-air. Looking up at the sky, it was light blue in colour and free of clouds. The breeze brushed through his hair, giving a pleasant and comfortable feeling. If it weren’t for the wind it’d be sweltering hot today.

Danny stretched and popped his joints, yawning all the while. “Alright, that’s enough slacking off. Gotta get these Ectopuses right back to the ghost zone”

But just before he could fly off, the faint shouts of children could be heard. Are they calling him? "Oh no," he muttered to himself, preparing for any trouble as he dashed off to the source of the sound.

He was mentally prepared for anything. Skulker? Technus? Bring it on! It was becoming a bit too boring around here anyways.

What he didn’t expect was for a group of kids to be there, still yelling his name. Scratch that, he did expect civilians, who else would’ve shouted for his help? He just didn’t expect them to be, well, uninjured.

He checked each and every one of them to make sure they were all okay, then checked the surroundings for any signs of an attack or the remains of one. They all seem fine; some people were even walking their dog around the park and some were jogging. That’s weird, he could’ve sworn they were in danger.

He floated down slowly to the area where those kids were huddled around. Concerned, he wracked his brain for an explanation. Are they overshadowed? No, their eyes aren’t glowing red. Are they injured? No, he already checked them beforehand. Is one of their friends in danger? Oh Ancients, he hopes not. But then again, they don’t look worried too worried so maybe not.

Sighing, he shook his head. He was getting nowhere with this; he’ll just have to ask those kids himself.

Clearing his throat he landed soundlessly on the ground. The kids cheered, running closer to him. Rubbing the back of his neck and throwing a sheepish grin he looked down at the mass of grinning children, “Uh, hi there! What seems to be the problem?”

A few kids squealed and one of them walked up to him and gave him the biggest smile he’s ever seen. “There’s no problem at all Mister Phantom, we just wanted to see you up close!”

Danny blinked owlishly at them, before doubling over in laughter. So that’s what got him all worried? Maybe Jazz was right, he was paranoid. He should’ve known better; he trusts the people of Amity to not deliberately put themselves in more danger than necessary. Maybe.

His chuckles faded away, but his grin was still bright on his face. “Well, I’m here now! Is there anything you all wanted to do in particular?”

His smile widened at the excited gasps they let out before simultaneously erupting into what could be called a shouting competition. Yelling out their suggestions louder than the others as if that’ll convince the rest that their idea is obviously the superior one.

“Can we play hide and seek?”

“No, that’s lame! He should show us all his powers!”

“But I wanna play games with him!”

“I want him to carry me in the air!”

“He can’t carry all of us!”

“Well, he’ll just carry me then!”

He chuckled before mediating the situation, “Alright, settle down you guys. We can decide on something we all like, okay?” It was amusing seeing all the kids quiet down and listen to him so eagerly.

He hummed and got thinking, “Hmm, well what were you guys playing before I got here?”

The kids brightened as one of them enthusiastically shouted “Football!” right as 2 of them immediately ran off presumably to get the balls.

A few of the kids looked a bit annoyed, one crossed his arms and huffed. “How many times do we have to tell you this? It’s called soccer, not football!”

Danny raised an amused eyebrow at that, sounds like a reoccurring argument. He let out a hearty laugh, they’re just like Sam and Tucker.

The kid that yelled out beforehand crossed their arm as well. “Is not! It’s called football for a reason!”

“Well-!”

“Guys, we’re back with the balls!” indeed they were, effectively shutting up the kids. They all ran towards the field, argument far forgotten.

He smiled, walking after them. Grin widening as he got close enough to hear them get into another argument, this time about himself. Man, these kids are full of energy.

“Phantom should join us! We’re the better team!”

“No way! You already have Nicolas and he’s the best player, let us have Phantom!”

“Phantom deserves to be on the winning team!”

“No! We already have a handicap”

Danny awkwardly chuckled, rubbing his neck. He’s not too good at diffusing arguments, his tries with Sam and Tucker never ended well. He thought about a role that would be fair for both teams.

He cut them off in the middle of their argument, hesitantly putting his two cents. “I could be the referee?”

“NO!”

Well, they could all agree on that one.

In the end, it was decided that Danny would take a turn on each team so that everyone got a chance to play with him. They played well into the sunset, and they all were getting noticeably tired.

They decided to call it a day, despite the multiple protests of “I can keep playing!” and “I’m not tired at all!”. Congratulating everyone on their skills and high-fiving each other.

Danny’s team won every match of course.

He promised them that they could all play again sometime, and by the time everyone’s parents picked them up and said their goodbyes it was almost time for his hangout with Sam and Tucker.

He rushed over to Sam’s house where they’re going to have a movie marathon, feeling giddy from today’s events. He couldn’t wait to spend time with them.

And as he snuggled into his space-themed blanket, Sam and Tucker at his side bickering on which movie to watch, he can’t help but smile contently.

Yeah, today’s a good day.

-

Another work on "Danny deserves love" or "Danny being appreciated" >:] while the concept of him being bad with kids is funny i will take danny being good with kids to the grave with me

[marshmallowprotection]

Hey, I’m sick rn and I’m struggling really bad because I have this irrational fear of being sick and throwing up and all it seems that I can do right now is throw up anything I consume and I’m really not doing well amd I was wondering if you could write a scenario with Bora being in my position and maybe jumin or zen helping her out. Please?

Bora didn't fear getting sick. She knew what it felt like and how to habdle it. She feared going to the doctor... she feared the prodding, the poking, the questions, the ill-guided attempts at coddling, the needles, and the way she had to lie through her very teeth to keep her parents reputation safe. There had to be a hundred hurdles whenever she went to the doctor, and her fear of that grew stronger when she ran away from home with nothing but a jacket, a backpack, and the phone she'd been given by her now passed big brother. Being at the doctor meant someone would find out who she was and force her to go back.

Whenever she got horribly sick, her skin would turn flush and she'd become paranoid about being taken back. Even now, living in the penthouse with Jumin and accepting that she had been adopted into this loving home, Bora feared the doctors. Even if Jumin had her papers, she feared that her parents would bribe someone to kidnap her or make her come to that home again. She didn't want to go. She wanted to stay here.

Unfortunately, the fever she had today was quite horrid. It was looming closer to the point where she would need a doctor. She protested and tried hard to wave off Jumin’s concerns. But, when she wound up slumping over against the carpet with sheer and utter exhaustion in her eyes, Jumin knew that she'd lied about how sick she was for days. She was too crafty. She evaded small details as if her life really depended on it. That's how she wound up tucked into bed, barely conscious, muttering underneath her breath with pleads to not call the doctor.

Jumin hated to go against her wishes. However, she needed help. Fortunately, she was asleep for most of the time the physician checked out what she'd caught. It was just a strong strain of the flu that was going over by all intents and purposes, but it was enough to knock her on her butt given the fact her immune system already wasn't the best. Apart from her lazy eye, she had to deal with plenty of side effects from her parents years of never giving her enough of what she needed, and correcting it now was taking longer than expected.

"Dad," a muffled whimper escaped her lips as she searched around the room. "Daaaad. I don't want... I don't wanna be sick anymore. I'm sorry I stayed out in the rain... I just... I... mmm..."

Jumin sat down on the edge of her mattress, replacing the rag on her forehead by wringing it out and replacing it once it was cool again. He was still new to this, and yet, he felt inclined to take care of what he could himself. Bora was a frightened child, he simply couldn't leave her alone. "It's quite alright, duckie. You mentioned your brother would do that with you, as I recall. Was it fun?"

"..."

Her silence wasn't a surprise to Jumin. Still, he was staying put. "For now, you need to get some rest. I want you to sleep before your meal. We can focus on water for now to make sure you're hydrated, as was recommended, but don't worry too much until you've slept. Myself and Elizabeth aren't going to be going anywhere."

The feline was ever the worried soul. She had curled up against Bora's side, opting not to add weight or heat to her chest, instead leaning into her arm just as comfortably as she could. Elizabeth knew when Bora needed help. She was always there when she needed it. Jumin couldn't always be around given his work schedule during the day, but Elizabeth was able to comfort her when she was alone. "Meeeow."

"Sorry, Dad," Bora mumbled. She raised a hand over her eyes to block out the light. "You needed to work today..."

"Why? You have nothing to apologize for. The work I need to do today can readily be done here in my home office later. The company will continue to run while I'm here. That is the reason why I have many assistants such as Assistant Kang. They keep things running smoothly. I care for my work but I respect that they can handle themselves alone. But, you are my daughter, Bora. I can put my work away when you're feeling ill because you are my first priority."

She tried to muffle the sounds of her sniffles but she couldn't. Hearing Jumin say those words made her feverish state leas frightening.

[heliads]

The Lookout (Part One)

Your brother, Stiles Stilinski, has a feeling that newcomer Theo Raeken only means trouble for the McCall pack. When he sends you to spy on the werewolf, you’re not sure what to expect.

masterlist / part two

You sigh irritably. The school day is over, it’s the weekend, the last thing you want to do is listen to your older brother yammer on about his classmate-related fears. However, Stiles Stilinski has rarely cared about what you did or did not want to do when it came to his werewolf-safety lectures, and so he continues on speaking. This time, the topic of this discussion is one Theo Raeken; namely, the fact that the guy is obviously a supervillain. At least according to Stiles.

“Look, you can’t tell me it’s not suspicious. Werewolves don’t just show up in Beacon Hills without something to prove. Besides, the guy even walks and talks evil.” You push open the doors to the school with a sigh. “I think he’s fine. You’re just being paranoid.” Stiles lets out an irritated huff. “Usually, the paranoid people in movies end up being right. You should listen to me. I could be right about this.”

You give him a look. “Or you could be wrong, and we’ll just be running away from someone who could be a potential ally for no good reason. Honestly, I think you’re just overreacting.” Stiles stares at you, utter bewilderment crossing his face. “You know what, I think I know what it is.” He stabs a finger in your general direction, suddenly decisive. “You think he’s hot. That’s what it is. You don’t want to listen to me because you think he’s hot and you don’t want to consider him a bad guy.”

You turn to him with a look of utter shock. “Excuse me?” Stiles gestures loosely with his hand as the two of you continue walking through the school parking lot. “You keep staring at him, you smile when he talks, you don’t want to listen when I tell you he’s obviously a bad guy. It’s simple- you think he’s hot.” You let out a snort of laughter. “You stare at him more than I do, Stiles. Besides, if we’re talking about staring then we need to talk about Lydia. You can’t keep your eyes off of her. Honestly, it’s kind of cute.”

Stiles swats your shoulder. “We’re not talking about Lydia. We’re talking about Theo.” You flash your brother a smile as you reach his beloved Jeep, opening the door to slide inside the passenger’s seat. “I think you’re being ridiculous. And, even if I did happen to think he’s hot, it wouldn’t matter. You’re still insane.” Stiles lets out a squawk of protest as he enters the car as well. 

The two of you are so involved in your argument that you don’t notice the brown-haired boy pausing by the door of his truck. He turns when he hears his name tossed around by you and your brother, but a small smile rises unbidden to his lips when he hears your laughter. The boy hesitates a second longer, and then the bubble of your conversation is drowned out by the sound of the Jeep’s engine starting up. The boy’s grin slides away as if he’s suddenly remembered himself, although he does cut one last glance your way, eyes lingering on your easy smile.

You know something is about to happen when Scott, Lydia, Kira, and Malia all show up to your house. You raise an eyebrow at your brother when they all file into your kitchen. Your father is coincidentally absent, although you’re sure Stiles timed this to happen when he was out on a shift as sheriff. “I’m sure I’d like to know what this is all about. I usually get told about pack meetings, but now I’m getting a little worried.”

Stiles folds his hands together. “I didn’t tell anyone that there was a pack meeting until just now because I wanted to make sure we wouldn’t have anyone joining in.” Malia cuts in. “By ‘anyone’, he means Theo. The whole point of this is about Theo.” You grin. “I had a feeling it would somehow tie to him.” Stiles looks miffed. “He’s a threat, okay? And by the end of this, I’ll be able to prove it.” You watch him with a quizzical eye. “What does that mean?”

Stiles leans forward across the table. “I want you to go spy on Theo. You’re going to go pretend to be his friend and everything, and you’re going to find out what he’s hiding from us.” You mirror his stance in front of the table. “If you’re right and Theo’s such a bad guy, why would he tell me anything? This plan makes no sense.” Scott steps forward. “That’s why we need you to convince him to let down his guard. Theo assumes Stiles is on to him, right? If he thinks he can steer you away from Stiles, you might be able to trick him into giving up some information.”

You consider this. “You really think I can be a spy for the pack? You actually think this is going to work?” Stiles reaches across the table to clap you on the shoulder. “I know it’s going to work. He won’t suspect a thing.” You sigh. “I wish I had your confidence. I’m fairly sure he’s going to see through this the first time I try to talk to him.”

You have no idea why Stiles thinks this is going to work. It’s a terrible plan, and the chances of it succeeding are slim to none. That being said, you have never backed down from a challenge, especially not from your brother, and so you’re certainly not about to start now. You form a plan: simple, but probably effective. When leaving school the next day, you have an argument with Stiles, coincidentally in front of Theo’s truck. You allow the werewolf to see you walk away angrily from your brother, and allow yourself a small smile when you see his truck come to a stop as you’re walking furiously down the sidewalk.

You look over when you hear a shout from Theo’s direction. “You need a lift?” You pretend to look hesitant, and then suddenly decisive, as if not wanting to trust Theo and then remembering that Stiles (who you’re supposed to hate) doesn’t like Theo. You walk over, sliding into the passenger’s seat. Theo raises an eyebrow when you close the truck door a little louder than normal. “You want to tell me what happened?” You just sigh, staring out over the road ahead of you. “I hate my brother.”

Theo chuckles as he drives away from the sidewalk, continuing on down the road. “What, has he finally gotten to you too?” You heave an exasperated sigh. “He won’t let me do anything. He keeps repeating this same excuse that he wants to ‘protect me from all the supernaturals’ but he won’t let me prove myself. He’s not even that much older than me, and I can handle myself.” Theo smirks. “If he can’t see that, he’s an idiot.” You grumble to yourself. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Theo ends up driving you back to your house, coming to a stop in your driveway. You turn to him. “Thanks for the ride. I didn’t really like the idea of having to walk all the way back here.” Theo offers you a cool grin. “Hey, no problem. If you ever want to get away from all this, my door is always open.” You smile quietly in spite of yourself. “Thanks. I might take you up on that.” You wave goodbye, jumping down out of the truck and walking to the door. You’re pleasantly surprised to note that Theo doesn’t leave until he sees you go in, making sure that you’ll be alright. You didn’t expect this to go so well this quickly, but you’re not about to complain.

Stiles arrives at your house a short while after you, and he bounds excitedly over to you. “So, how’d it go? Does he trust you unconditionally?” You laugh. “Isn’t Theo supposed to be a sinister, heartless supervillain? No, he doesn’t trust me.” Stiles holds up a finger to prove his point. “Yet. He doesn’t trust you yet. You can do this.” You groan, shaking your head as you try to hold back a grin. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The next morning, you make sure to keep up the pretense of pretending to hate your brother. Theo actually makes it surprisingly easy to continue with the act- you’ve barely walked outside to eat your lunch when he’s already calling you over to sit next to him. You slide onto the bench, a few tables down from Stiles and his friends. Theo shrugs at your raised eyebrow. “Hey, you were glaring at Stiles so I assumed you still weren’t over the argument. I figured you might want somewhere else to eat.”

You grin. “And you want to make him mad because you know he doesn’t trust you?” Theo returns your twisting smile. “I’m not going to pretend like that didn’t cross my mind. I mean, if you don’t like him why should I?” You call up a look of utter indignation. “He’s just being so annoying! He doesn’t trust me to do anything. Stiles isn’t even that much older than me but he’s already trying to be a helicopter parent.” This is exactly what Theo wants to hear, and you know it. Theo leans forward, a conspiratorial grin on his face. “Then what do you say we ditch him? I’m willing to bet that there’s more to Beacon Hills than the limits of Scott’s pack.”

Stiles warned you about Theo’s manipulation tactics, the way he tries to sway everyone to his side. You can’t deny that he’s good at it- if it weren’t for the fact that the little dispute between you and Stiles was completely fabricated you’d almost believe that Theo truly wants to help you. This being said, you can spot Theo’s lies reaching out to you and so you wrap them around yourself, calling up your lies to combat his. Two can play at this game.

You flash him a smile. “Sounds perfect. Meet me after school?” Theo nods. “We can take my truck.” Across the tables, Stiles finally glances up and sees you. The look of bitter annoyance on his face upon seeing you with Theo isn’t hard to fake, although it still makes you and Theo laugh. This might be more fun than you had first envisioned.

How do you convince an apparently betraying conman and serial liar to trust you? It’s surprisingly easy with Theo, actually. You end up spending more and more time together- drives to and from school turn into impromptu road trips, you meet up at his house or the school or the middle of the woods. You’re not sure you’ve ever laughed so much with anyone before, and it’s getting harder and harder to remember that you’re supposed to be spying on this guy, not actually becoming friends.

That being said, you have been able to uncover some information. Something is definitely up about Theo’s parents, outside of the signature dilemma uncovered by Stiles. You’ve seen the way Theo’s parents watch him when his back is turned, the way fear suddenly crops up in their eyes. They almost act like he’s a stranger, someone to be afraid of. You’re not sure why, but you find yourself making excuses to head away from them. Stiles would probably want you to stick around, try and figure out any more clues, but it’s so unnerving that you want to avoid his parents instead.

Also, there’s something not quite right about Theo’s story. You’ve heard him mention it a couple of times now- he was out skateboarding late at night, an alpha attacked, he was turned into a werewolf just like Liam and the rest. Yet Theo doesn’t own a skateboard, hasn’t for a while. In fact, you had casually asked him a question about skateboarding and he had completely drawn a blank. It makes no sense, which means that something is definitely wrong with his story. And if Theo is lying about how he became a werewolf, then he’s probably lying about why he came to Beacon Hills, which means that you and your friends might be in more danger than you had thought.

Even with all of this, though, you’re still not sure that you want to leave Theo’s side. When you told Stiles and the others about everything you’d uncovered about Theo, they’d been worried. Scott had pulled you aside, asking if you wanted to stay so close to Theo. If he was as dangerous as you think, you might be at risk if you continued hanging out with him away from the pack. Stiles, too, seems less certain of his foolproof plan for you to spy on the werewolf and mentioned that you might want to step away. Every time they ask, though, you make up excuses. There might be more to find out. It’ll be good to have someone get close to him, just in case. No matter what, though, you know one thing: you don’t think you could leave Theo if you tried.

These thoughts keep burning into the back of your mind, but you manage to push them aside for today. It’s a beautiful night, the sun having finally set and the colors of the dusk washed away into an all-encompassing inky black. The stars are spangled across the horizon, and a laugh is burning deep in your throat as you race Theo through the woods of the Beacon Hills Preserve. You technically shouldn’t be here this late at night, you know that, but for some reason, you can’t entirely force yourself to leave. You’re with Theo, he’ll make sure nothing happens to you.

Your feet pound on the packed earth, ducking under low-hanging branches and around fallen tree stumps. You think you’re alone, and then a pair of arms wrap around your waist and force you to a stop. A laugh bubbles out of you before you can help it, and you swat at Theo’s arms, although he doesn’t let go. “You ass, I thought you were farther behind me.” Theo’s voice is close to your ear, his face only inches from yours. “I’m a werewolf, remember? I could outrun you any day.”

You roll your eyes, although this just makes the smirk on Theo’s face broaden. “It’s mean, that’s what it is. Maybe I’m trying to finally be alone, you don’t know that.” Theo just chuckles, the sound deep in his chest and making you shiver. “If I believed that, I would have stopped running.” There’s a silence now, a silence that hangs over the two of you like a cloak. You realize where you are, where his hands still encircle your waist and his storm-grey eyes are still locked on yours. There’s a second of hesitation, and then he leans down and kisses you.

If you were smart, you would break away. If you were smart, you would realize that Theo Raeken is only doing this to get to you and to get to your pack, that he is more dangerous than you could know. Your best option is to leave, to stop before you get your heart involved. But that’s already happened, hasn’t it? Despite your best efforts, despite everything you know about Theo, you can’t help but kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and letting him wash away everything you can remember about the world.

Maybe you’re not supposed to be falling for Theo. You’re not sure that you ever had a choice.

[draconicks]

the lost boys as parents

TW: Cussing (Once)

Author's Note: This was an anon's request, but I can not find the ask. Also, this is unedited because I'm too impatient, and the gif is mine.

David -

David would be a strict but still playful father. He would be the kind of dad that would yell at their children to stop doing whatever it was that they were doing and would then smile at them to let the child know that they were joking.

However, the child I feel like would know when he was and wasn't joking. And if they were purposefully pushing his rules/limits, he would immediately lower down to their level and then very firmly explain to them that what they were doing was wrong and if they kept it up, they would get all of their privileges taken away. That would pretty much do the trick, because he meant all privileges (none necessities though).

I honestly do not think he would physically punish his child, to be honest. He's a huge softie at heart, as are all the Boys, and I feel like seeing them in pain or seeing them cry from something he inflicted on them would shatter his heart. So, he always tries to go down a still effective, but still less harmful method on punishing them, because his worst fear is having them be scared of him.

He would be very protective of them when they are at a young age. He would just - babyproof the cave and wouldn't take his eyes off of them because he would be so paranoid that they would die if he turned his back for one second. And I feel like that is why he sort of became co-dependent on Dwayne, since he trusted him most when it came to his kid.

If his child was to come out as LGBT+, he would be fully supportive, even if he didn't understand it completely. He would respect their identity and pronouns wholeheartedly, and I'm not going to lie, I feel like he would sort of know beforehand, because David is just that way. But, with his child, I feel like it would be a lot more heightened.

"What do you mean you already knew?"

"I just do, okay? I made you-"

"D a d -"

Dwayne -

He would be extremely patient and understanding the entire way through, because he was the eldest of 4 siblings, and he had to raise them basically, so Dwayne already sorta knew what he was doing, if that made sense. Only this time, it wasn't his baby sister or baby brother, it was his fucking kid.

He doesn't get mad or frustrated that easily, but he does get stressed. So, if they were to start acting up or behaving wrong, he would get really shocked *insert pikachu face* and even a bit confused, but then he would start to get really annoyed fast if they kept it up. Finally, he would scoop them up and take them over to his motorcycle, basically putting them in time-out for the rest of the time they are outside of the cave.

Similar to David, he can not bring himself to physically punish his kid. He had attempted to once, but his hand literally swerved the other way, and he felt horribly guilty. After that, he just didn't even bother trying to spank them or slapping their wrist. He just - couldn't do it.

While they are growing up, he would let them have as much space as they needed, but he would still peep his head in to ask them if they were alright or needed anything. If they were ever down or angry about something, he would coax them out and talk to them about it, asking them what happened, how it happened, etc.

He also loves to read them stories and such! He would do the animated voices, the dramatic pauses for more effect, and he would even tell the kid to do it with him. He also would read the story as much time as desired, and he also would read it until they would eventually fall asleep, but as soon as he moved...

Paul -

He is extremely stoked and excited the entire time they are growing up, always excited for them finally getting off the motorcycle by themselves, finally zipping up their jacket up for the first time. Just, you know, little stuff like that, and he is their number 1 supporter - hands down. Even when they are feeling negative, he still is cheering for them.

He cut down on the drinking/smoking when he started raising his kid. He hardly ever smoked/drank afterwards, and not because he was always busy with his kid, but also because he didn't want to be a bad influence on them. And, that goes for David, too. He had a serious talk with him about his little smoking habit.

If they were to ever act up, he wouldn't even register it, because he would be spaced out. But, once he realized what was going on, he would simply frown and shake his head at them, telling them, "You're not being very nice. How would you feel if someone acted like that to you? It wouldn't feel very good, huh? >:(" and the kid would basically stop acting up, because their dad isn't smiling for once.

He is extremely affectionate as a father. Everytime he sees his kid, he always jumps up and engulfs them into a bone-crushing hug, and would call them his 'little champ' for waking up or brushing their teeth or something. And then once he was done, he would go back to bouncing around the cave like a boomerang, excited and jazzed up again because his serotonin is soaring.

He teaches them how to take proper care of their hair and how to do monthly trims and safely dyeing it. He's quite nervous at first when he had to trim their hair for the first time, and Dwayne had even offered to help, but Paul told him no. He had this. And as soon as he made the first snip, his confidence both skyrocketed and crumbled, mainly because, hey! He did it! And there is no turning back and he could mess it up :)

Marko -

He was quite scared to be honest. His worst fear was to possibly screw his child up on accident because of him being accidentally being too angry or being overprotective while they are growing up. He had overprotective parents, and he still is recovering, and that is possibly his worst fear is to not break the cycle. But, he doesn't do that :)

He teaches himself how to cook (he's being productive for once) and he ends up staying awake all day, teaching himself how to make certain dishes for his kid. Once he fed them his cooking, he immediately became overwhelmed from the compliments and reassurance he had gotten from them, and he returned that with a gracious thank you and a peck on the crown of their head.

And, when it comes to punishments, he's just like David. He can't hurt them physically, he can't stand the thought. But, he is a bit more indecisive, though. Because, on one hand, the little episode that they are having will be done and over with in about 20 minutes, but also, they need to learn not to do that. So, he goes with David's strategy, just to be on the safe side of things. Afterwards, he always makes sure that they know that what they did was wrong and that they wouldn't do it in the future.

He sometimes takes them out of the cave and has nights with them alone. It's very peaceful and necessary to be away from the Boys sometimes, and he always takes them with him. And once they are alone, they sit down side-by-side and just talk about whatever is plaguing their minds. And that is Marko's specialty, is just listening and bonding with them.

He also makes sure to teach them self-expression. It doesn't matter to him if they shave their head, bleach their eyebrows, name themselves Toe, or even do something as awesome as that, he would still support it. Always. He just wants to be supportive, like Paul, and he wants his child to find their place in the world that they live in, because Marko never had a place until he found David. And he doesn't want that for them, he just desperately wants what is best for them.

[favefandomimagines]

Least Deserving (d.m.)

Summary: you’d been by Draco’s side since fifth year. and you knew of his demons but he didn’t seem to want the help you were offering.

AN: i really wanted this to have a really angsty not happy ending but i really couldn’t do that lol also wrote this in 20 minutes, my inspo was one tree hill tbh

i wanted to write something that was realistic. sometimes people can’t help their partners when it comes to trauma and sometimes people don’t want to be helped and that effects relationships way more than we think.

You and Draco had been a team since your fifth year at Hogwarts. You were always friends before that but then something clicked once puberty happened and feelings got involved. 

He asked you to the Yule Ball and everything changed after that moment. Draco was never the type of person who was open about their feelings. It took a lot of time and patience until he finally decided to tell you if anything was wrong. 

It got worse after the war ended. He was paranoid and jumpy, afraid that Death Eaters will come out of the woodwork and kill him for betraying them in the end. His PTSD and paranoia didn’t stop you from loving him. 

You were going through your own issues as well when it came to post-war life but you also knew Draco was going through the ringer. 

And him not liking being vulnerable led to his temper being one no one wanted to trigger. So you tried to offer him your help when you could see he was struggling worse than most days. 

You ‘prying’ led to him getting angry and saying how you need to give him space or he won’t get better. But you’ve been giving him all the space in the world and you didn’t know how else to help him anymore. 

After Hogwarts, you became a healer at St. Mungo’s. You were quite successful in your work. So much so, they offered you a position at St. Jouge’s Hospital for the Ailing and Maimed in New York City. 

You thought it was the perfect opportunity for you and Draco to both get away from the demons and reminders of the war. You hoped that you would get the Draco you fell in love with back if you left London. 

The evening you found out about your job, you arrived back to your home that you shared with Draco. You were excited to tell him the news but a bit nervous as to how he would take it. 

You opened the door and the inside was dark. You knew Draco was home because his jacket was on the hook by the front door. 

“Draco?” You called, placing your wand on the table. You progressed further down the hallway and peeked through the crack in the doorway of your bedroom. 

Draco was sitting on the bed, staring at the dark mark that was seared into his forearm. You pushed the door open, causing it to creak and Draco stood up defensively, wand pointed at you. 

“Hey, it’s just me.” You said, hands raised in defense. “Y/N,” He started, lowering the wand and sitting back down. “Are you alright?” You asked. “I’m fine.” He said with a small scoff. “This doesn’t look fine. What were you planning to do if I hadn’t walked in?” You questioned. 

For months, Draco had been talking about trying to get rid of the dark mark. How he would do anything to get rid of the reminder of a very dark period of his life. 

“I wasn’t going to do anything, Y/N.” He snapped. “Draco, talk to me. Please.” You begged. “There’s nothing to talk about!” Draco yelled. You were used to him lashing out so you didn’t have much of a reaction. 

“What if we leave? Go to America and just, start fresh? Or at least until we’re ready to come back.” You suggested. 

Draco looked up at you with a look you couldn’t quite decipher. It looked as if he was almost disgusted with you. “I can’t just leave, Y/N. No matter where I go, this mark will follow me. It’ll always be a reminder of what I did.” He replied. “You never understand! You try to help me but you don’t understand what I’m going through!” Draco added. 

Now it was your turn to look at him in disgust. “I don’t understand?” You questioned. “I, don’t understand what you’re going through? I lost my best friend in that war. Lost my parents because everyone thought they were members of the Order.” You sneered. 

You rolled up your own sleeve and revealed the scar that was on your arm. Draco flinched away from the sight of the injury. “Your aunt carved ‘blood traitor’ into my skin after she tortured Hermione. And you say I don’t understand?” You said, voice rising. 

“All I want to do is help you, Draco.” You finished. “You can’t help me! So stop trying when you’re going to fail!” He yelled.

You squeezed your eyes shut causing a few stray tears to fall but you quickly wiped them away. Though Draco noticed. 

“I got offered a position at St. Jogue’s Hospital in New York City. I think I’m going to take it.” You whispered. “What?” He questioned. “We aren’t good for each other anymore. I don’t deserve how you’ve been treating me, after all I do is love you and care about you.” You explained. 

“I need to go. I love you, Draco, but I need to go find someone who lets me in. It’s been three years since the war. No amount of guilt can change the past and no amount of anxiety can change the future.” You spoke. 

An eerie, uncomfortable silence fell upon the bedroom as Draco avoided your gaze. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, Draco. Maybe someone else will.” You concluded. 

Draco didn’t move from the spot he was standing in. Not until he heard the front door slam shut. Only then did the reality of the situation sink in. He pushed you closer and closer to the edge every time he didn’t let you in. And he finally pushed you over. He lost you.

__

It had been two months since you had moved to America. You were quite lonely though, the flat you were given being a little too big for just you. Originally, you had told them you and your boyfriend would both be living there. You hadn’t had time to tell them the plan changed. 

So you a got a dog. A little Scottish Terrier that you named Fred. After your late best friend who the world lost in the war. You told Ginny and Hermione it was because your home was too big. 

But they knew it was a distraction from Draco. Having work plus a dog gave you enough distractions so you only thought about him a few times. Though you loved your little companion, it didn’t replace the aching you felt anytime you found yourself thinking of Draco. 

You had just gotten home from an overnight shift at St. Jouge’s, going through your mail as Fred was running down the hall from your bedroom. 

“Freddie, you know you’re not supposed to go into my room when I’m not home.” You lightly scolded the little dog. But then you realized that you always leave your bedroom door closed. 

With furrowed eyebrows you walk down the hall, wand outstretched and peered into your bedroom. You thought you were hallucinating due to lack of sleep but there he stood. Platinum blonde hair askew, wrinkled black dress shirt and his usual pair of black dress pants. 

“D-Draco?” You stammered. He turned around you could clearly see the change in his appearance. He was pale, very thin and looked like he hadn’t had a goodnights sleep in weeks. “How did you get in here?” You questioned. 

“Alohamora.” He said quietly. “Now, why are you here?” You asked. “I’m sorry. For how I treated you. As if you weren’t dealing with your own things because of all we’ve lost. I didn’t mean to push you away and I don’t have any excuses as to why I treated you the way I did.” Draco answered. “Can you try to at least explain? Why you were so awful to me when all I wanted was to be there for you?” You questioned. 

“I was scared. I was scared that you would look at this stupid mark everyday and have to be reminded of everything I took from you. Lavender, your parents, what my aunt did. I don’t want our life to be surrounded with everything that happened. Everything that I’ve done.” He said. 

You took a few careful steps towards him but not too close. “You took nothing from me, Draco. You were just a boy in a world you didn’t understand nor belong in. I could never blame you for what happened. And I know he threatened you with my life if you didn’t do it.” You said. 

Draco looked at you with a shocked expression, wondering how you knew about the threat that was made against your life. “How did you-” He started. “Harry. He heard what you said at the Astronomy tower that night.” You cut him off. 

Just like it did two months ago, the room fell into a silence. Draco sat down on the edge of your bed and put his head in his hands. You saw his body shake slightly and heard a muffle sob come from his lips. 

“I need help, Y/N. And I can’t do it without you.” He whispered. You had waited so long to hear him say that and admit that he needed help. You walked over and sat down next to him and rest your head on his shoulder. “And I’ll be here.” You replied. “I think moving to New York is a good idea.” He told you. 

Draco looked up at you and you could see the small glimmer of hope in his eyes. “I think that’s best.” You said. “I missed you.” He whispered. “I missed you too. I bought a dog not to miss you.” You laughed.

“That reminds me, I’m not a dog person.” Draco said. “That’s a lie. Your father just wouldn’t let you have one.” You said. “What’s its name?” He asked. Draco quickly regretted that question when a slightly sad smile appeared on your face. “Fred. It felt right.” You said. 

Draco wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into him. “I love you, Y/N.” He said. “And I love you, Draco.” You replied. 

The two of you sat in that position for quite sometime. Both of you ready to get the help that the two of you needed. 

[thedreadvampy]

talking to my mum last night and getting fucked up about the degree of trauma my grandparents' generation faced and how. unwilling and ill-equipped the care system is for the obvious fact that there's a huge incidence of PTSD and complex lifelong mental health issues in those generations

grannie was 17 when she became a nurse and she was working immediately in London at the height of the Blitz. her first day she saw blown apart children and had to comfort their parents. she was almost hit by a rocket cycling home.

grandpa spent the whole war in labour camps before being trapped behind the Iron Curtain in the ruins of Dresden, almost dead from starvation from the camp, for another 3 years before making it back to Blackpool to find out his parents had died in his absence.

granny got radiation sickness at 13 from being put under an X-ray with no protection and forgotten about for hours; she lost all her hair and developed chronic pain and health problems. after years of severe physical, emotional and sexual abuse from her family and the men around her, she got engaged to an American pilot who was shot down and killed in the last month of the war. her former boyfriend came back a dissociative shell of his pre-war self and she ended up trying to raise three small children on her own, with her family at the other end of the country and her husband often having violent flashbacks and outbursts of rage. she was suicidal and had violent psychotic breaks and got institutionalised and medicated on and off her entire adult life.

like. it isn't just the war. people born in the early-mid 20th century, especially women, have been subject to so much sexual trauma, domestic and social violence, bigotry, and grief on grief on grief.

with my granny, it's entirely understandable that she was 'mad'. when I knew her, she was on heavy daily dosage of lithium - she stopped because it was destroying her gut after 30 years and she became violently aggressive, vindictive, scared, psychotic, paranoid, frequently delusional and extremely abusive. She was terrified of doctors because of her repeated experiences with medical abuse, she was furious with everyone around her, she coldly hated her husband and seemed actively happy when he died, and the thing is all of that makes perfect sense because she was profoundly and repeatedly traumatised for at least the first 50-60 years of her life.

but the thing that worries and answers me is that the elder care system and the mental health system are completely unwilling to engage with the fact that many many many old people have severe pre-existing mental health conditions. after all, how many of us have PTSD or psychotic episodes or bipolar or BPD or special care needs related to autism or OCD or ADHD or whatever? those don't just Cease To Exist after a certain age. and our parents and our grandparents grew up in times with much less support for mental health and much less awareness of trauma. granny's early traumas were familial but she was institutionalised repeatedly and treated appallingly throughout her life and that's in itself traumatic.

when granny was 82 and she stopped taking her lithium, she was frail, ill and a danger to herself and others.

they put her on a dementia ward when she was sectioned because she was Old, and Old Mad People Are Demented. but she didn't have dementia! she had chronic PTSD and paranoid delusions but she knew who, where and when she was and she was perfectly sharp, she just wasn't coping. when we went to visit her she'd say furiously 'they think I'm like the other people in here but I'm not, I'm not losing my marbles, I've always been this way'

none of us got any support looking after her while she was in hospital or after she left the inpatient ward - nobody checked in on grandpa while she was in hospital or on weekend release, and after she was released Dad looked after her single-handed while trying to deal with his dad's death. (she may have murdered grandpa while on weekend release, or he may have died of heart failure - either way when she went off the rails after 20 years stable, he gave up on life and I me and my sibling (for the record we were 10 when she left hospital) listening to her trying to continue unpicking her past trauma was I think the most therapy she got after she left.

she couldn't go into a regular elder care home because she was too unstable, she needed specialist mental health care and she sometimes needed to be constrained for her own safety and that of other people. residential mental health care facilities weren't equipped to deal with her needs as a woman in her 80s. she couldn't go into dementia care, which is about the only residential care available for old people with serious mental health needs, because she didn't have dementia and it would have been utterly inappropriate and harmful for her and the other residents. she lived to 93 and for the last 11 years of her life it was up to Dad and us to look after her in her home because there was simply nowhere else for her to go.

and what really fucks me up is that she wasn't past help. a lot of people thought she was but when she left hospital she was trying really hard to continue therapy on her own without a therapist, she drew and wrote about her life and memories and she used to sit opposite me and open up in a way I now utterly recognise as trauma therapy, she would try to find ways to talk about what had hurt her and state into the middle distance for tens of minutes trying to get it together enough to continue. she wanted to do the work. but the only people there for her were her son who was shellshocked from losing his dad and traumatised from effectively losing his mum again and who was spending all his energy just trying to get through work and home and get her physical needs met, and a couple of preteen children who had the will but not the capacity to help. we were barely holding ourselves together (mum drove granny places but mostly her capacity was being spent being about the only support Dad or us could get) and we just couldn't meet the work of a trained therapist. and eventually she gave up on getting better and got angrier and more bitter and more abusive to everyone. but she wanted to feel better. she wanted to deal with her shit. but there was no support.

and there must be thousands of people like her. older people with lifelong trauma and mental health issues who are too mentally ill for elder support and too old for mental health support. and the MH system doesn't think they're worth the resource cost because after all they're old, they'll die soon. but where are they meant to go? and how much harm does unsupported home care do to the person in need of care and to the people carrying for them? it just multiplies trauma down the generations. you can't just expect mental illness to only affect the young when the old have been just as traumatised and you can't treat them as separate issues when old people need carers who are qualified to deal with both their age and their mental health issues.

like yes many people develop late life mental health issues like Alzheimers and dementia, just as many people become disabled for the first time by age. but a lot of people are disabled or mentally ill for decades before they reach anything approaching elderly, and those things don't suddenly go away and don't have the same support needs as late-life issues.

idk. I'm very angry. if there was recognition of the need to support older people with lifelong trauma then my grandpa wouldn't have died hopeless and unsupported, my granny might have got her life back and got some healing after 80 years of living in fear, my dad wouldn't have had his own mental breakdown and slide into paranoia and conspiracy theory, and me and my siblings wouldn't have lost our whole adolescence trying to shore up two badly neglected adults' catastrophic mental health while under constant fire.

literally a ten minute weekly phone call with grandpa while granny was in hospital and weekly follow-up talk therapy for her after she was discharged could have made so much difference but nobody fucking cared. because she was Old. she was in the hospital because she was a danger to the people around her and they discharged her for the weekend as a trial run and her husband died suddenly while she was in the house and she seemed totally unbothered and they still. let her out for good two weeks later with no followup care or therapeutic follow-up and no support or advice for Dad on looking after her. they started talk therapy in hospital and then dropped her abruptly and left her raw and cracked open without any way to put herself back together. and she isn't unique it's just. Careless. and so destructive.

[nocturna-starr]

The Picture

Prompter: @gottacatchghosts

Prompt: Danny/Jazz swap AU: Jazz is the half ghost and Danny is the older sibling. Go wild on your take of how this would all play out

Words: 1811

Notes: Related to THIS fic

“Hey Jazz, can you stand still for a minute? The lighting by you is perfect!”

“Daniel!”

A flash went off. Jazz blinked away the spots. Where had he come from? She would have sworn that it had only been her in the kitchen a few seconds ago. How had he come in so fast, or alternatively, how long had Daniel been watching her? Sometimes Jazz wondered who really was the ghost in their family, him or her?

“That was perfect!” Daniel cheered, “Now I’ll need a couple more photos and then you can go.”

“I thought you wanted to be a painter, Daniel?” Jazz frowned, “Since when did you care about photography?”

“Since I was the first one in all of Amity Park to catch a photo of the ghost girl in action! I discovered that I really do have a natural talent for it.” Daniel gloated as he changed the filters on his camera. Jazz smiled. It had been a long time since she had seen this side of her brother.

“Okaaayyy” She tried to sound like she was doing him a favour. If he knew that she was actually happy for him, then Daniel would never let it go.

“I knew you would agree!” Daniel grinned, “Now I have a bunch a filters that I need to try out! How busy is your day today?”

“Well I was planning to meet spike at the mall…”

“Perfect! I swear these photos are going to make you a star!” Daniel smirked, “Or at least get your name in the history books when these pictures come through.”

xXx

“I’m so sorry I’m late Spike! Daniel is on another stupid project kick.” Jazz huffed as she sat down in the mall’s cafeteria. Her friend looked up from the phone game he was playing. She wondered how long he had been waiting for her. Spike rarely ever tried out mobile games unless he was absolutely bored.

“And he says that he is nothing like his parents. Dude really is clueless to his own tendencies, isn’t he?” Spike laughed, “Maybe it’s a Fenton trait?”

“What do you mean by that?” Jazz asked.

“You still haven’t noticed my- You know what? I’ll let you figure it out.” Spike took a huge gulp from his soda.

“Come on Spike! That’s not fair!” Jazz whined. How could she even begin to guess something if she didn’t have a hint? She wasn’t a genius like her parents or her brother. She couldn’t help it she accidentally overlooked something that she didn’t even know was supposed to be there!

“Nothing is fair in love and war.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jazz wondered. Spike only smirked. He was about to explain (or maybe torment Jazz some more) when he was interrupted by one of Daniel’s friends.

“Hey Jazz! Have you seen Danny?” asked her brother’s not-so-secret admirer, Sam Manson. Jazz sighed. Judging by the new camera hanging from her neck, Sam seemed to be encouraging Daniel’s new endeavor. That meant he would be taking pictures for the next month or so. It was something that Jazz was not looking forward to.

“He’s in the house taking photos of plants. Or he decided he wanted to go on another jungle adventure and went into the ghost zone.” Jazz rolled her eyes. She muttered under her breath, “Then I’ll have to save him again this week…”

“Do you think he’s dumb enough to do that again?” Spike laughed, “Last time he got chased half-way across the zone by Klemper!”

“But he got some awesome pictures!” Sam grinned. She practically skipped away. Jazz giggled at her enthusiasm. She could see what Daniel liked about Sam. Maybe by this summer they would finally get together. Then they wouldn’t have another Ember situation.

“Your brother is going to get eaten by a ghost one day and all his friends are going to care about is that he got a good picture.” Spike snickered, “Man, I feel bad for him.”

Jazz joined into his laughter, “Yeah, but don’t feel too bad for him. You should have seen him when Tucker got attacked by Technus. He managed to get the two of them to stand still long enough for him to take a sketch.”

“And he didn’t snap a photo why?”

“As much as he hates to admit it, Daniel is just like our parents! He wanted to prove a point or something.”

Spike nodded in agreement, “Wanna get some ice cream?”

“You bet I do!”

xXx

The two best friends sauntered in the park, enjoying the beautiful weather and the lack of ghost attacks. It was peaceful times like these that Jazz liked the most. Times where she could just be a regular fifteen-year-old kid.

Of course, peace doesn’t last long in Amity Park.

“Wanna take a selfie?” Spike asked, “It’s been a while since our last!”

Jazz smiled, trying not to feel too guilty. Since becoming Jazz Phantom, she had veered away from cameras. In all of her research, she had discovered that photos tended to… change while in the presence of other ghosts. Yet the photos Daniel had taken of her, always seemed to end well. Maybe she was just being too paranoid?

“Say cheese!” Spike said, sounding way too bright to be considered a goth.

“Cheese!”

Spike took the picture, then went to see the results, “Uh… Jazz?”

He handed over the picture to her trembling. Nervous, Jazz took a look and paled.

Spike looked happier than he has in a long time. She on the other hand… If you showed the picture to anyone else, they would probably think that Spike had gotten a picture with Jazz Phantom herself! Jazz’s eyes were the bright red of her ghost form. Her hair was blue as the ocean. Her clothes looked faded, though if Jazz squinted, she could make out her logo.

All in all, this was a disaster.

“We have to get those photos from Daniel!” Jazz squeaked. She dived into a bush, transforming into her other half. Without a second thought she took to the skies, heading towards her home.

“Guess my plans have been cancelled,” Spike muttered, “Better tell mom not to cancel that trip to my therapist.”

xXx

“Daniel?” Jazz called while entering the house, “Are you here?”

Fentonworks was too quiet… Like her entire family was ready to attack her. She shivered, were they watching her? Jazz was afraid to even consider this. Maybe… maybe… Maybe her parents were out, and Daniel was with his friends?

“I’m up here,” Daniel called from up the stairs.

That didn’t feel like a trap at all.

With the very little courage she had left, Jazz carefully made her way up the stairs. Her yes darted around, waiting to catch the slightest movement. She prayed that her life was not about to fall apart. How could she have been so trusting? Daniel was her brother, but he had also been raised by ghost hunters. What if he warned her that she would have to leave? What if the government was here to take her away? These seconds could be the last of the life she had once known.

“Hey Jazz! The filters worked like a charm!” Daniel called from the top of the stairs.  The ghostly heroine nearly fell down the stairs in surprise.

“Danny?!”

“Oh sorry. Totally didn’t mean to scare you little sis! Sam, Tucker and I have finally come up with a filter that can properly take pictures of anyone. No more red eyes, or blurry pictures! And it’s not going to malfunction around you like all of our other inventions!” Daniel was talking at a mile a minute.

Jazz sighed in relief. He hadn’t mentioned how her picture had looked. Did it mean that her brother had discovered a way to properly photograph half ghosts? She would need to steal a dozen of these camera filters which, knowing her brother, he would have around.

Jazz practically skipped down the stairs, “I was just seeing where everyone was! I’m going to go find Spike again! Tell mom and dad that I’ll be home for dinner!”

“Okay? But don’t you want to hear more?” Daniel asked.

She answered his question by racing out of the door. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate her brother’s efforts. But Daniel could be just like Jack Fenton when explaining how something worked. She supposed she could be the same way when talking about psychology.

xXx

Daniel shook his head and sighed as his sister slammed the door. While he could understand her concerns, it still hurt to be rejected that way. It wasn’t like he could tell her that he knew her secret. She would freak out and try to trick him into thinking he just saw things. Now wasn’t the time for him to get down. He had just invented something revolutionary!

“How did you know that adding ectoranium to the filter would work?” Tucker asked, turning on the hall light, “And why did you have to tell her in the dark?”

“Cause it’s more fun to tell her that way. Who’d think that the ghost girl was afraid of the dark?” Sam answered for him, as she exited his room.

“Honestly, I forgot to turn on the lights.”

His two best friends howled but Daniel frowned. How could he have been so stupid? He’d after to reassure Jazz that everything was okay in a subtle way. Afterall, Jazz had a nasty habit of jumping to conclusions.

“I’m curious too,” Sam began, after she had calmed down a little, “how did you come up with the idea?”

“Ectoranium is the opposite or ectoplasm. I figured that the ectoranium would cancel out the effects that Jazz’s powers had on the camera. Now she can have her picture taken at school or join in family photos without a need for an excuse.” Daniel replied.

“That was very sweet of you Danny.” Sam gushed.

Daniel didn’t reply. Instead he headed back into his room. He put his hand under the mattress and pulled out the photo album he had been working on for the past couple of months. Carefully he placed one of the photos he had taken that day into the album. He flipped the picture over and wrote a note just like he had done to the other pictures.

This is the first photo taken with the new lens. Use the lens to reveal the true door. If the event has not happened, ignore this.

“Dude, the cryptic messages are a little freaky.” Tucker said.

“Call them safeguards, for just in case.” Daniel closed the book and hid it under his mattress again. Once he was done hiding his gift, he turned to his friends and smirked.

“Anyone want to see if we can get a picture of that Box Ghost again?”

“We’re in!”

[sonnetthebard]

Owen doesn't really like horror movies and he gets paranoid pretty easily because of them. He hates that it happens and never tells anyone about it, he thinks its embarrassing for someone like him to be set off by something as simple as a movie. Curt also didn't know, until he proposed watching a horror movie one night. Owen went along with it because he knew Curt wanted to watch it with him and tried his best to sit through it, but Curt picked up on how uncomfortable he was -S

I know this was supposed to be headcanons, but... I had to write this as a oneshot. I absolutely love it.

Genre: Fluff/ Romance/ Angst

Words: 3171

TL;DR: Owen is not a fan of horror movies.

TW: Anxiety/ Triggering, brief mention of violence, panic attack, minor implied ptsd.

"Darling, I'm home!" Owen called into his shared hotel room teasingly.

"What, you're done scoping out the venue already?" Curt smirked, making his way out of his room, already dressed down to just a dress shirt (with a few buttons undone) and dress pants.

Owen smirked at that. Evidently Curt had decided his work for the day was over. They were in the primary stages of a small mission- one that should be simple. Intercept the passing of information from the French to the Russians- no matter the cost. If they had to kill someone, so be it. It may be an easy mission, but it was a crucial one. It was set to happen at the ballroom in one of the biggest estates in London during a gala hosted by its owners- set to happen in two days. The owners weren’t royalty, but they were rich- which probably made them more powerful than royalty either way. The event was going to be massive. Royalty and dignitaries from all around the world would be there- and, of course, the informants they were there to stop. If they didn't intercept this information... well, let's just say the Soviets would have a rather large military advantage. And that wasn't something anyone wanted.

Earlier in the day, Curt and Owen had gone out and met the family hosting the gala- who were in full support of their work. They’d even offered to be so good as to give them a discreet signal when their marks arrived. Of course Owen had turned that down because, even with good intentions, the utilization of untrained assets was always a risk. Once they were done with that meeting, Curt and Owen had done some genuine espionage. They were lucky. Their informant had told them when and where their marks would be in preparation for the gala. So they'd alternated locations to watch their opponents. That way no one got suspicious seeing the same two people watching them everywhere they went. Then Owen, being the keener that he was, had gone to the ballroom and scoped it out. He always loved that part of planning. Plus, the house was practically a castle, and it was old. Owen just wanted to see it. It was a marvel of architecture. But it was at least a productive visit. He had a good sense of the place. 

Now, though... Now Owen was exhausted. He'd had a big day preparing for not only his physical game but his mental one. So he was more than happy to be back with the man he loved. And he really did love Curt, in spite of his flaws. Owen was well aware of those. He would have to have been dull not to take them into account when preparing for their romantic relationship. Owen knew he was the more fit spy. He knew Curt could be a bit... careless at best, reckless at worst. And boy, did Curt’s ego ever get the better of him sometimes. But Curt was one of the most affectionate people Owen had ever met. His heart was massive, and he was as loyal as a dog. That was more than enough for Owen. They would follow each other to the ends of the earth. Owen may not have the smartest lover in the world, but... he had never felt more loved by one person. Not even his own parents.

"Already? Love, I was there for nearly three hours." Owen chuckled softly.

"You must be exhausted." Curt rolled his eyes playfully.

"As a matter of fact I am!" Owen scoffed, smirking and setting his jacket on the rack. Curt walked over to him, wrapping his arms over his shoulders and kissing him gently. Owen hummed into it, snaking his arms around Curt's waist. "What are you up to, Mega? Trying to breathe some life back into me?"

"No... I just missed you." Curt blushed lightly, still smirking and trying to play this off as cool as he could. "Am I not allowed to kiss my favourite partner after a long day of work?"

"Oh, you're more than welcome to..." Owen winked, giving him another gentle peck. He rested his forehead on Curt's, sighing. "I would say you could kiss me any time you’d like, but... well... we both know the world isn't quite ready for that."

"I know." Curt sighed. "One day..."

"We can only hope." Owen agreed. He gave Curt one more small peck of reassurance before, pulling away, walking into their room. "So what have we got for plans tonight? I was thinking maybe we could grab a bite at the fish and chips stand down the street. It's quite good. Then... maybe we could go to the cinema?"

"Actually... I was thinking maybe we could stay here." Curt bit his lip. "We've got a television here, and... they're showing Creature From The Black Lagoon on one of the channels we pick up. I missed it in the theatres while we were in Germany, and I've been hoping to see it for a few years now. It's a horror movie, and I've heard the special effects in it are great! We could watch it together!"

"Oh..." Owen bit his lip, breath hitching a bit at that.

Now... there was a bit of a dilemma. Owen came off as very suave, very tough, and impenetrable but... he had a bit of a problem with horror films. That, and films surrounding espionage. He didn't know what it was about the visual medium of storytelling that was becoming so popular, but... it affected him deeply. It was as though it set off something deep inside him, and brought up all his own fears. Even if they weren’t the fears discussed in the movie. As tacky as the movies were with their corny monsters and questionable acting they sparked his anxietes. Even worse to Owen was the irrational paranoia that came with it. The fear of something that didn't even exist. Even the things that very clearly could *never* exist. Like Dracula. Still, if Curt wanted to watch one with him, he would do his best to sit through it. Maybe he could focus his attentions on Curt and not the movie. Or maybe this movie wouldn’t get to him so badly. 

"Oh what?" Curt checked, the smallest trace of concern riddling his features.

"It's nothing." Owen chuckled, trying to mask his lie. He didn't want Curt worrying about him for something so trivial. "I would love to. What are we doing for supper though?"

“I didn’t think that through.” Curt admitted. “We, um... well, we’ve got half an hour before the movie starts. Maybe we could grab fish and chips and eat it here while we watch?”

“Sure thing, love.” Owen sighed. “You want me to go and get it, then?”

“That works for me.” Curt nodded. 

“And do you want me to get some crisps for later in case you get a bit peckish?” Owen checked. 

“Can a get a translation of that?” Curt teased. He knew most of what Owen meant, he just loved bothering him and he knew how much his boyfriend hated Americanisms.

“Do I really have to?” Owen groaned. Curt just raised his brows in expectation. “Fine. You’re lucky I love you... Do you want me to get you some ‘potato chips’ for later in case you get the ‘munchies’?”

“I would love some potato chips.” Curt smirked triumphantly. 

“‘Potato chips’...” Owen grumbled, grabbing his jacket again. “Bloody Americans butchering our language...”

“Love you too!” Curt called out the door teasingly as Owen left. 

The fish and chips place wasn’t far down the street. It was one Owen knew well- his parents had even taken him there as a child. He remembered those days... Things were simpler. Not nearly as complicated as his life had become. But that wasn’t why Owen was so eager to get out of the hotel room. No, Owen wanted the space alone to brace himself and prepare himself for this movie. Because he’d always been strong for Curt. He didn’t want Curt seeing him weak. So he just needed a bit of fresh air. That’s also why he’d volunteered to get the crisps (no matter what Curt wanted to call them). Extra time to steel himself. He took his time, but even then he only spent twenty minutes out of the house. Still... it was better than having had no time at all to prepare. He took deep breaths, making his way back to the hotel room. 

“Alright, darling. I have the food.” Owen called him, taking his shoes off and walking into the hotel. He set the food down on the coffee table. Curt walked out, dress shirt completely gone now. In it’s place, a white tank top. He was in denim jeans now, likely so that he didn’t ruin his dress pants. Owen smirked. “I thought we were supposed to be watching a movie, love...”

“We are.” Curt furrowed his brows, confused. He sat down on the couch, taking one of the meals for himself. Owen shrugged his jacket off, hanging it back up. He then joined Curt on the couch, a teasing glint in his eyes. 

“Well... you’re very distracting...” Owen hummed. Curt blushed. 

“I can put my shirt back on...” Curt mumbled. 

“No, darling. Don’t do that.” Owen sighed contentedly, taking the meal Curt hadn’t taken and setting it in front of himself. Curt had taken out his multi-purpose hunting tool and a pocket knife to eat with, but Owen stopped him. He pulled out the provided cutlery. “Here, darling. We can eat like civilized people”

“Right.” Curt flushed again. 

“You’re adorable when you’re all worked up.” Owen chuckled. 

“You’re a bully, you know that?” Curt grumbled, getting up and walking over to their in-room television. They were lucky. Not many hotels had them, but... this one did. Their superiors didn’t mind splurging a little on their accomodations, because it usually meant they were better rested for their job. 

“I’m not a bully...” Owen chuckled, his heartrate picking up again at even the thought of what he was about to watch. “I’m just a tease, doll.”

“So you admit it?” Curt smirked triumphantly, fiddling with the knobs to adjust the channel. 

“Only this once.” Owen rolled his eyes playfully. 

“I think I... there we go!” Curt beamed as the television crackled onto the right station. The scoring to a typical horror movie started. Owen gulped, already not liking this. Curt seemed to pick up on that. “You okay?”

“Absolutely fine.” Owen lied. Curt sighed, coming back and sitting down. 

Both men sat in silence, eating and watching the movie. Owen tried to focus on his food, blocking out the movie and his surroundings. But... that was unfortunately very hard to do. Especially when Curt was so invested. The man was leaning as far forward onto his knees as he possibly could. He thought Curt might have said something about Owen being right about the fish and chips, but Owen didn’t really hear it. He was caught in his head, in a way. And in many other ways, he was totally and uterly absorbed in the movie, trapped without consent the the saga being recounted on the screen. He didn’t even notice when he finished his food, caught up in everything. 

And then... then came the moment Owen was dreading. The one that had his palms sweating and his body tense the entire night. Even with all that awful anticipation it caught him completely by surprise. Just as it was meant to. For some people, that was the thrill of the game. To him, it wasn’t. To him, it was not just truly terrifying, but also... humiliating. Totally and utterly humiliating. Especially in front of his Curt. Curt, who thought he was this suave, impenetrable rock. Curt, whom he was the foundation. Curt got to watch him cower like a child. The moment of dread was, of course, the first jumpscare. And just as Owen had predicted, he had jumped right out of his seat, yelping. Curt saw him and... he started to laugh. 

The world caved in for Owen. It was a mix of the genuine fear he’d experienced watching the movie, the fears that fear alone had resurface, and the humiliation. He felt in a way that he was disappointing Curt already. And the laughing... it rang in his ears even once Curt had finished. Because this time Curt wasn’t laughing with him- he was laughing at him. He tried to mask it, but he was far too caught up in his head to have any control over what his face did. He shook a little bit. He couldn’t even fear anything around him. He had tunnel vision, and everything sounded like it was underwater. Owen hated it. He knew then and there that trying to be tough had not been the right move. That he should have said no to Curt. But it was far too late for that realization to be any good. 

At first, Curt had admittedly thought it was funny that Mr. Tough Guy Owen Carvour himself had fallen victim to the classic jumpscare. And he would be the first to admit he had laughed a long time- especially when he thought that for once he had been the one to fluster Owen and not the other way around. But then, when Owen neglected to come back with any snide remarks... When he didn’t tell Curt to shut up, or even chuckle along with him... That was when Curt knew that now was not the time to be laughing. That something was genuinely wrong. That was when he finally took the time to notice that his lover was shaking, and the fear that had been in his eyes when he jumped had not vanished- even though the protegonists were safe. Curt took Owen’s hand’s carefully. Owen twitched in what could be a flinch, but put up no fight. That was the final tip-off for Curt that sommething was very wrong. He got in front of Owen carefully. 

“Hey... Hey, Owen. You’re okay.” Curt soothed. Owen seemed to snap a bit out of it- enough to see Curt in front of him and look him in the eyes. Curt suppressed his concern and put on a comforting smile for Owen. “That’s right, babe. Look at me. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

There was a moment of Owen just staring into Curt’s eyes and reminding himself that Curt had his back. That he was safe. Once he had calmed enough to speak, he took a shaky sigh.

“I’m sorry.” Owen mumbled. 

“No... no, don’t be sorry!” Curt shook his head, giving Owen’s hands a squeeze. Immediately as thought that had awakened something in him, Owen was squeezing back as if it were the only thing keeping him on the ground. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes I do.” Owen spat, almost as though the words were poison. Self hatred oozed from his tone. “I’ve been lying to you. I’m a coward.”

“You are not a coward...” Curt stated firmly. 

“I bloody well near shit my pants at something I saw on the telly!” Owen pointed out, incredulous. “Something imaginary, on the other side of the screen where it could never harm me.”

“That’s what these movies are made to do, O.” Curt assured him. 

“They’re meant to give people a quick fright.” Owen shook his head. “But... that terrified me. Genuinely scared me.”

“Well... we’ve got pasts.” Curt bit his lip. “We’ve seen stuff. We’ve been the victims of real jumpscares where we could have died. Maybe it reminds you of those. Maybe the lines blurred.”

“Curt, it wasn’t anything we’ve been through that scared me.” Owen softened, nearly whimpering, both scared and embarassed but also pleasing for Curt to listen. “It was that that creature was going to show up behind us and do the same, or... take you away. That poorly dressed, hokey monster that could not be any further from being real. I’m not just a coward. I’m a bloody idiot.”

“You’re not a coward, Owen. And you’re not an idiot. Everyone’s brain is built a bit differently.” Curt soothed him. “You want to protect me... just like I want to protect you.”

“From something that could never hurt us either way.” Owen pointed out. 

“Sometimes that doesn’t matter to the mind.” Curt sighed. “I don’t know if this happens to you when you read all your books, but sometimes someone will tell me a story and I get so invested in it that I’ll feel like I’ve lived through it myself.”

“I know what you mean...” Owen nodded. 

“Well... maybe this movie did the same thing for you.” Curt reasoned. 

“I... suppose.” Owen blinked, realizing Curt made a lot of sense.

“Just like you feel things when you read... you’re feeling things watching this.” Curt sighed.

“Right...” Owen nodded, letting that sink in. 

“You think you can take a few breaths with me, O?” Curt soothed. Owen nodded, following Curt through a few deep breaths until he had stopped shaking and his grip on Curt’s hands had lightened. Once Curt was satisfied, he got up and changed the channel. I Love Lucy was on. He smirked, sitting back down on the couch. For once, he was the one pulling Owen close to cuddle. “We’re going to watch this channel for the rest of the night, okay? I think it’s got some of the good family shows on it.”

“Are you sure?” Owen checked. “I can go lay down. I know you really wanted to watch this film.”

“Yeah, but... not as much as I want to spend time with my handsome British boyfriend.” Curt teased. 

“I love you.” Owen sighed, resting his head on Curt’s chest. 

“I know.” Curt winked playfully, running a hand through Curt’s hair. “Hey, if you’re ever uncomfortable with what I want to do... just tell me, okay? No judgement.”

“Alright.” Owen nodded. 

And so they spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms. Eventually they did switch and Owen was back to holding Curt. He found immense comfort in that- and that Curt didn’t judge him. It was lovely to be totally and utterly enamoured with someone. And that was what he was with Curt- what he was certain they both were. He didn’t focus on the telly (though it did give him a few laughs- that Lucy was always getting into trouble). Instead, he focused on Curt’s hands running though his hair, or the little kisses he was being adornerd with. In other words, he chose to focus on how much he was loved. And that put him in an entirely better place. There was, at least, one thing they could take away from the whole fiasco: no more horror movie nights. They had enough horrors in their own life without needing to worry about anything on the tv. 

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Spencer Reid / Uncertainties

Prompt: Kissing tears away 

Summary: Everyone is afraid of the uncertain, but no one more than a man of facts and statistics -- Dr. Spencer Reid.

Word Count: 1,870

Warnings: Angst + Fluff, comforting, Spencer’s headaches, this man deserves love, mentions of mental illness (schizophrenia), I make a doctor who reference lmao

Spencer Reid was a man of many thoughts. And that was a clear understatement. 

A lot of his thoughts were spoken — facts given freely, statistics that spewed from his mouth, and certainties conveyed without a bit uncertainty. But these were facts, facts he had surrounded himself in carefully constructed walls, buildings, and bridges, until it became a labyrinth. A perfect solitude of his own making — certainties were certain, unlike most things in his life. 

Including you. 

"Spence, can I sit with you?" His eyes flitted up from the book he was reading, finding you sitting before he even had a chance to open his mouth. 

"Doesn't look like I have much of a choice," but he smiles, and your eyes twinkle at his teasing. 

"Why wait when I know the answer is yes?" 

And you were right. The answer was always yes when it came to you — that much was certain. At least according to Morgan and Garcia. 

"Why aren't you in your office?" You crossed your arms, brow creased in frustration. 

You sigh dramatically, "Penelope brought her boyfriend by and now they have completely taken over my space," Pout, as you rest your chin against your hand, "it's fine because it's Pen, but it's just a little nauseating to be around a couple that often. I think he’s spent more time there in the last week than I have in the last month." 

He snorts, "I didn't know love caused nausea," the corner of his mouth twitches, and you roll your eyes. 

"It does when you're painfully single," you sigh dramatically, shaking your head, “Side-effects include nausea, fake vomiting, and contemplation and eventual purchase of noise canceling headphones. Only cure in my case — a date.” 

"Then get a date?" He offers. The words left his mouth without a second thought, ignoring the twinge in his chest at the thought of you with someone else. 

You raise a brow, "You offering, Doctor?" 

He blinks, a heat climbing his neck, and he's all too painfully aware of how your eyes linger on the blush that's undoubtedly spread across his cheeks and the graze of your teeth against your bottom lip. 

"I-I-" but you wave him off. 

"It's okay, Spence," you begin to get up, but the question remains very much in the air, an albatross wrapped around his neck, squeezing and squeezing. 

"Wait," he says your name, giving you pause as he licks his incredibly dry lips, "I am," he manages, heart beating against his ribs, "offering that is." 

The indelible tension becomes even more unbearable as you blatantly stare at him, becoming more and more difficult not to tug at the collar of his button up — regretting the choice of a sweater vest combo with how unbearably hot its become. 

But then your face lights up, eyes wide and lips broken in an unabashed grin, "What time?" 

Maybe he shouldn’t have offered. Maybe he shouldn’t have listened to that small voice in the back of his head, that sounded awfully like Morgan, to take a chance. Because then he wouldn’t have learned that you majored in Linguistics and English Literature. He wouldn’t have learned that your undergraduate thesis was on the parallels of  Beowulf and Tolkien and the meaning of brotherhood. He wouldn’t have learned that your nose wrinkles very adorably when you try a new dish. He wouldn’t have learned that he liked how your voice got louder when you were passionate. He wouldn’t have fallen in love with you. 

But he was, he realized one morning, as your fingers carded through his thick curls one afternoon, hoping that the dreaded phone call wouldn’t come and interrupt your dinner plans tonight. You hummed and gasped appropriately as you listened to him read a new book you had picked up (as it was your turn to choose a book for the two of you to read this week). And it was when you had plucked the book from his hands, peering down at him, his head against your legs, with a soft smile and wide eyes, he realized that he didn’t remember a single moment of his life that had felt so right. 

Until it didn't. 

He knew the symptoms. Sensitivity to light. Persistent headaches. An inability to focus. Irritability. Hallucinations. And he knew the odds. His leg bounced up and down in the waiting room — the one time facts did not play to his advantage — eyes squeezed shut. Soon, he would begin to forget things. Become confused or delusional. And he would lose one of the only things he felt that had some control over — his mind. Pain splintered through his head, as yet another doctor called him in for his results. 

Inconclusive, again. The fifth doctor to have run a litany of tests on him: physical, emotional, and psychological — but no cause. 

He doesn’t remember the doctor’s name, her introduction stymied by the red hot throbbing in his frontal cortex, “Do you have anyone to support you during this time?” his fingers dug into his forearms. 

“I do,” he manages, and he can almost feel your touch, your presence, as if you were here. Your arms wrapped around him, chin pressed into his shoulder, but your eyes — eyes full of pity. He still hadn’t told you. 

But it didn’t mean you hadn’t noticed. 

"Spencer," you wave your hand in front of his face, and he looks up from his book, "I've been calling your name for five minutes." 

"Sorry, I was reading," he murmurs, sliding his bookmark into his book, shutting the book in his lap, "what's wrong?" 

Your brow furrowed, arms crossed across your chest, "I should be asking you that," 

"What is that supposed to mean?" He knew he was wrong — he knew he had been short, that he had been angry, that he had been silent, but he didn't care. He couldn't find the energy to. All he could think about was the dull ache in his head, the echoing in his ears, the fear thrumming through his body, possibilities running over and over and over— 

"Spencer," you ease the book through his fingers, "I know you — you would have blown through this entire book by now, but you've been reading the same page for the last half hour." 

He snatches the book from your hand, hardback clattering against the floor, "You don't know anything," 

"Spencer—" 

"No, no—" he holds his voice steady, holding the fracturing pieces of his facade together, "just leave." 

"I'm not leaving you," your voice cracks, not bothering to hide your hurt, "not until you tell me what's going on." 

He looks up and sees your gaze waver. And he hates himself. He hates himself for hurting you. He hates himself for allowing himself to love you. He should have learned his lesson. He should have learned when his parents separated, when his mom’s delusions and paranoia turned her from the woman who read him stories of knights to a woman who barely remembered her own name. He hates himself for being too weak to break up with you.

“Do you know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind?” he whispers, the dull ache in his brain quelling for a moment, the tightness in his chest replacing it.

You blink, eyes glassy, sliding in place beside him, his eyes falling to his lap, “Why would you be afraid of something so beautiful?” 

“Because I don’t know what it’s going to become,” he cradles his head in his hands, “I’ve been having headaches. Consistently. I can’t focus. I can’t sleep. I am...hearing things that are not there. I—” 

“Spencer,” you whisper, “why didn’t you tell me before?” 

He laughs, the sound hollow in his chest, “What is there to tell? Doctors can’t tell me what this is. They can’t tell me if it’s—-” he breaks off, and he refuses to look up. He refuses to see the pity in your eyes — the fear. 

“Baby, you don’t know what this even is right now, we—” 

“What else could it be?” he snaps, ringlets of pain coursing through his head, “I know the chances. I’ve known the chances since I was seven, when I found out my mother had schizophrenia when I overheard my parents arguing again. I’m the same age as she was when she first started showing symptoms.” 

Schizophrenia. The word hangs over the conversation like it has hung over him his entire life. A part of him thought maybe, somehow, if he was smart enough, even if he had it, he could outsmart it — maybe he could overcome it. But a few weeks of these headaches any delusions of grandeur — except for the ones yet to come, “Spencer, even if it is schizophrenia, it is treatable. It is manageable with medication and proper treatment. More importantly, no matter the odds, no matter what this is, I’m going to be there—” 

“Until you’re not,” 

“Spencer,” 

“You don’t know what it’s like,” His words are soft, as he remembers the warmth of his mother, curled up beside him, her soft voice reading stories of Arthur and his round table, “to watch someone you love become someone else — someone you don’t even recognize anymore. Someone angry, someone paranoid.” 

“I don’t know what it’s like, Spencer, I’m sorry, but I know I’d never leave you. Even if you become someone else, even if I lose you altogether — I love you. For who you are, and you will become,” you reach for his face, but he turns away, licking his lips, “I always will.” 

“Nothing is certain,” he sighs, running his hands down his face, “But I know I can’t make you do this—” 

“Spencer, please,” you lean down, prying his fingers away from his face, and forcing him to look at you — tears running down your cheeks freely, your nose wrinkling as you sniffled, “shut up.” 

“I—” 

“I know nothing is certain — nothing ever is. But this is how I feel right now, in this moment,” you draw closer, and he allows you to — taking solace in your closeness and warmth. Your lips brush against his forehead,  “We will figure this out, together.” 

A tear slips down his cheek, and he squeezes his eyes shut, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to—” 

“I don’t have to do anything,” you press a kiss to his cheek, right as the tear rolls down, “and I never do anything I don’t want to,” the corners of your mouth tug at your lips, “remember the Doctor Who convention?” 

“I remember compromising my choice,” you laugh. 

“And I remember you being the cutest David Tennant ever,” his fingers brush away the streaks of tears left behind on your cheeks, “I don’t need to have a Tardis to know we are going to get through this.” 

“Well, actually—” you raise an eyebrow, and he smiles. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too,” his hands cup your cheeks now, breath fanning against your lips, as he kisses you. Tears roll over his fingers, as your fingers rest over his own, “and that is a certainty.”

[agent-cupcake]

Imagine having a child with a guy named Jimmy. Cursed.

OTHERWISE you all pretty much echoed what I was thinking, bless you.

cw pregnancy / forced pregnancy

(As ever, this is all in the context of dark personalities. I hesitate to say yandere, although that’s kind of become synonymous with dark personality AU’s and an obvious argument can be made that a darker take on the characters could lead into a yandere scenario) 

Ferdinand von Aegir

~While I don’t think he’d go out of his way to have a baby, he definitely wouldn’t take any steps to avoid it, either. That is, he wouldn’t really stray into breeding kink territory or anything of that kind but he’s not gonna pull out either. 

~But, yeah, if you were to get pregnant, Ferdinand wouldn’t be displeased by any means. He’d legitimately think it was the best way to “fix” things and out of a misguided attempt to ignore any negative aspects of the relationship and cling to the idealism of a happy marriage. 

~Just a side note, but I def see him with a body worship kink and I can only begin to imagine how that would intensify with his weakness for the softness and so-called beauty of motherhood. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.   

~Honestly, I don’t see him overtly leveraging  as a manipulation tactic. No, he’s good enough that his genuine feelings could do the job for him. Like, it’s not just you anymore. You’re responsible for another life so don’t you think you just trust him and let him take care of you? Oh, sure, he’d humor you (on account of the hormones) and say that he understands why you’re upset, but please just calm down. Everything will be all right, he’ll take care of you. 

~I think that Ferdinand would want a family even without the whole dark personality aspect. The way he’d see it is that children are a natural result of a union and love. He’d absolutely cherish your children if for no other reason than the fact that they’d be half you, although you can’t tell me that he wouldn’t have a horrible weakness for kids.  

~You’d be barely showing and he’d be picking out baby names and getting opinions on how to decorate the nursery and occasionally freaking out due to anticipation and nerves. He’d be really, disastrously, over-the-top protective, too. I just assume white magic would greatly lessen the infant and mother mortality rate but that doesn’t entirely remove the risk of complications so he’d be cloyingly careful about everything you ate, keeping tabs on any possible oddity going on with you. And, you know, I think he would enjoy emotionally taking care of you. Like if you were scared or sad or anything, I think he’d enjoy comforting you in a way that’s definitely not healthy. He’d enjoy being needed, I suppose.

~Yeah, so overall I view any sort of darker personality take on Ferdinand to be him, but with his sweet and noble and protective traits dialed up to an eleven without any sort of self awareness to make him pause and consider that maybe you don’t feel the same so having a child like this, as an intentional act of manipulation to make you stay or not, would be within the realm of possibilities.

Sylvain Jose Gautier (Bastard Man)

~Sylvain is pretty easy to imagine with a dark personality. I mean, assuming you have no pity in your heart and are willing to write him in a way that he never was able to get over his myriad issues, self hatred, severe distrust of people’s true intentions, and familial trauma.

~Assuming all that, and entertaining the idea that he could never find a good balance of repression and escapism, I think Sylvain would create an unhealthy emotional bond to a single person he believed to be exempt from his overall dismal regard for people and do this fun little thing where he’d chaotically flip flop between extreme emotions of distrust, blame, and anger and adoration, need, and a desperation to be seen as he was and still loved. 

~But it’d be a brutal cycle because he’s not the delusional type. Sometimes he could be, both with the good and the bad, but those would be kind of episodic. There’d be bad days where he’d be utterly convinced that you were just like the rest and he’d pick little fights and generally just be pretty pissy. But then sometimes he’d be blinded by love and so caught up in it that even if you told him no, he’d take it with a cheeky wink because of course you loved him and everything was so good. But, mostly, it’d just be a lot of dysfunction and Sylvain trying to lure you into a nice, good relationship with him by being mostly normal and decently charming and even, occasionally, being vulnerable (and tricking you into being vulnerable with him). 

~Anyway, back to the point. With all that context, why not bring a baby into the mix, right?    

~How many times does Sylvain bring up crest babies. Please, someone do a hard count and get back to me because damn son. So, may I just say, if anyone of these three were to have a breeding kink it’d be him. Is that controversial? Just think about it. Every girl ever wants him mystical crest cum, right? So, mentally, the whole thing would have a lot of weight and significance. Also Sylvain just strikes me as the type who’d be self aware enough of his dark and unhealthy needs that staking as intimate of a claim as that would be erotic. Unlike the other two, the act of forcing an irreversible and tangible change in your body and mind would be interesting. Not that he’d tell you any of that, or even dwell on it himself. 

~I’m torn between Sylvain saying it was an accident and him using the argument that since the two of you were in love, it was only natural that you’d start a family together. How could you not want to have his children? Better yet, how was he supposed to know that you wanted to wait. 

~But if you continued to be unreasonable, he’d go on the defensive. Like, what are you going to do? Leave him? For what? To raise his baby on your own? Or, worse, abandon your child? If you thought he’d voiced unfairly negative opinions about women before, the way he’d talk about a mother who abandoned her child and such a good, happy life with a loving husband would be infinitely worse. After all, he wanted to make a change in your relationship and be happy together. He wanted to be a good, loving father. He wanted a family with you. After everything, what kind of person would you be to throw that all away?

~So that’s... a lot. 

~But Sylvain’s the type to be awful in the moment then regret it after the heat dies down. Knowing he’d hurt you would genuinely tear him up inside. All of that adoration and desperation to keep you with him because he’d feel like he needed you to be happy would kick in and he’d break down under the guilt and tell you how much he loved you, how happy it made him to think that the two of you could have a family, that he knew you would be a great mother, that he knew he’d messed up but he would make it up to you, that you really could be a happy family. 

~Just saying, I can see him taking a perverse sort of pleasure in the physical effects of pregnancy. Also, he’d definitely be a lot softer with you. Guilty conscience, anyone?

Dimitri (Dimi) (Jimmy)

~You, dear anon, said it better than I could have myself. I agree SO HARD that Dimitri would be terrified of being a parent, but at the same time I think, if it were to happen, he’d be utterly enamored with the idea. There’s a lot more that I think about how he’d regard fatherhood, but that’s the gist. 

~Funny thing is, darker Dimitri is just like... More needy... unbearably protective... Paranoid... less stable... bad at managing his emotions when it comes to you... But, like, the same general emotions about fatherhood would apply because that’s already pretty complex. Only, this time, with an obvious emphasis on how it would effect you and your relationship. 

~I was going to say that I can’t see Dimitri purposefully impregnating you, but that’s not entirely true. In a fit where he’s feeling especially raw and paranoid, I think he would do it very purposefully and even almost-kinda-sorta relish in the idea. 

~I view his obsessive feelings to be like an itch he can’t quite scratch because he knows better than anybody how easy it would be to lose you and doesn’t know how to manage both his own instability with the unpredictable world because at any moment it could all spiral apart. 

~So, this in mind, he could believe that having a baby would make things different. More than just vows or words or rings or anything, it would be a concrete and absolute tie between the two of you. He would have an unquestionable claim over you that would go beyond the scope of just your relationship, you’d be carrying the royal heir which would give Dimitri even further valid excuses to be suffocatingly overprotective.

~It would be... So messy... On the one hand, I think the concept of fatherhood, of being given another chance, of being needed that much more by both you and the child, would really appeal to him. It could even sand off some of the rougher edges of his darker traits, now that he had this assured security in keeping you with him. Sure, the itch wouldn’t be scratched entirely, but it would be easier to ignore, there would be a solid way to reassure himself that you were his.   

~But Dimitri’s got this awful middle ground of self awareness. Anything that would come off delusion would be a result of his endless attempts at rationalizing his unhealthy feelings and trying to make sense of it all without having to actually confront the issues. But that wouldn’t mean he wouldn’t know, on some level, that what he was doing wasn’t healthy and how bad it was for you. The guilt would be intense, which would be apart of the reason he needed to keep you so close all the time because then he could pretend that you needed him just as badly, that everything was all right because he could take care of you better than anyone else. 

~Dimitri’s self aware guilt would allow a part of himself to understand that he should let you go. He could even, on the bad days, convince himself that maybe, one day, he would allow you to leave him because he loved you, because what he was doing was wrong. As long as you were near him, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself, he would always hurt you. 

~But using pregnancy to force you to stay with him would, perhaps even in an intentional subconscious way, cut off that last-ditch contingency to ease his own guilt and pain of what he was doing by keeping you with him. Now that you were going to be having his child, the royal heir, would mean that you could never leave. He’d know it. You would probably know it, too. 

~After that point, Dimitri would double down with proving his affection, proving that he was capable of taking care of you and his child and that you could be a family and everything would be okay.