#parent

[shouts-into-the-void]

Anyone else ever think about how unless they appeared in the same chapter, the Mark Bearers never met in DM1, which means Yashiki canonically went around introducing all his friends to each other

[d-choppy]

"I'm Hungry"

Finally I finished it !

To explain all this, I had this idea for a mini comic a year ago now? a year and a half ? and I started it but never continued! but then I took my motivation and determination by the collar and I forced myself to finish it! (I hate not finishing what I started.)

So a mini comic of the Brown family! this family is a great source of inspiration, it's just that it takes a long time to draw comics.

Arthur (The father) is mine

Marya (The mother) is @mizaryroku Oc

and the childrens they belong to both of us

[sodrippy]

really evil that daylight savings isnt year round here, why am i being forced to go home at 3pm i should be lounging until 8pm

[elynnss]

Maybe Walburga Black did love her sons. Maybe she just didn’t know how to do it quite right. 

Maybe no one asked her before marrying her off to her second cousin, with all his wealth and drinks and high talk of pedigree. Big, powerful, Orion Black, who was much too important to worry about romance or kindness— not with such a prestigious name to uphold. Of course Walburga would be chosen for him— the most beautiful, magically potent, eligible daughter of their noble house. Maybe every attempt at warmth, at love, went unfruitful. Only the marital duty fulfilled.

What if she watched her belly swell and felt sick? Knowing now, with this thing growing within her, she was really, truly trapped by blood and duty. What if Kreacher, the only companion who’d never once betrayed her, who watched her grow and scream and bleed behind dark walls, saw the way her eyes went truly empty for the first time. 

It was a celebration, of course. A woman’s duty to her house, nearly fulfilled. Walburga praised for the growing parasite within her, even as she pretended to preen under the attention. Pretended that she didn’t have to hide her sneer when her brothers were allowed to run free. Especially Alphard, galavanting about France with whichever disgraceful lover he liked. All while she sat stuck in the family home, feet aching. 

She was the most powerful witch of her generation. Magic, sweet and stinging, ran thick as tar through her veins. What if she woke up one day, tired of wallowing, and remembered that? 

Remembered she was one of the brightest witches of the age? Remembered that, while maybe not in status, she was far, far stronger than the great, stupid Orion Black. 

Remembered that the parasite growing inside her was half of her, not just him? More, really— she was the one carrying the damn thing. 

She was not able to choose her son’s middle or last name. Sirius Orion Black was born wailing, his tiny face crimson red and angry, and for the first time since stepping off the wedding alter, her heart soared. His first name, his given name—that was all her’s. 

Orion liked the name. Sirius, the dog, the great hunter’s faithful companion. And maybe Walburga couldn’t help the pride she felt at the way Orion gave her baby, their baby, one of their rare smiles when the name was announced. When he turned to her, Sirius snuffling in his arms, and said, “He looks like you.” 

But she had more than one reason for her son’s name. 

Sirius, the brightest star. Brighter than Cygnus, than Alphard, than Orion’s whole goddamn constellation. Maybe she ran a finger down his little nose, and he turned his soft cheek into her palm, and she knew that he would forever be her star—the one who would best them all. 

Maybe she vowed that he would be happy. Successful. The one to show them all that little Walburga was never truly leashed, not really. He was her pride, her joy, her weapon. Her mirror. With his ink-spill hair and sweeping nose that looked just like hers. His magic that richotted from every cry and laugh. 

She loved him. She loved him. She loved him.  

A year later, Regulus; another task forced upon her, but a welcome one. No matter, she tells herself as she once again must watch her belly swell. He is not only a precaution, a spare— he is another Black that is hers, not theirs. Another weapon. 

Regulus comes more quietly into the world than his older brother. The dimmer star. She thinks that Sirius might love the newborn even more than she does, gazing at Regulus with shining eyes and the careful, curious brush of chubby toddler fingers over soft cheeks. It's a softness that made her heart ache, her lips curl in a smile.

A softness she knows cannot last, if they are to survive as she has. 

Her little stars grow up in opulence. In splendor. In townhouses and chateaus on the off season. In the finest fabrics money can buy. With Kreacher by their side, just as he was by hers. 

They grow, and play, and laugh together. Sirius’s loyalty goes to Regulus, just as fiercely protective as his canine namesake. Together they reap the rewards of being heirs of affluence and power, little princes even at two and three, at five and six. Even Orion is happy, content to offer smiles and ruffled hair before disappearing into his office, to the Ministry, to whatever illicit meeting lined up that week. 

She loved them. She loved them. She loved them. 

Really, truly, she did. She just didn’t quite know how to do it right.

With careful, loving hands, she molds them. With a comb and a wave of her wand of her wand over their silky hair, followed by sharp enunciation, teaching them to do the spells themselves. With an approving voice, a tender palm to their cheeks when tutors bring shiny test scores. With a stinging hex the first time Sirius dares swear in front of her. They are lucky. Had he done it in front of Orion, it would have been a beating. 

A new set of Quidditch training gear for Christmas the moment Sirius showed interest. 

A week of no meals, when he and Regulus spent a dinner shamelessly giggling and whispering, sneaking scraps to the Minister’s dog beneath the table. 

A set of hand-bound leather story books, with real gold embellishments and the most intricate preservation charms that even Walburga could not cast, given to Regulus when he had finished all the ones in the family library. 

A slicing hex, across his hands, when he dared ask her about Muggle stories once he’d finished even those. 

Time outs in dark rooms when Sirius dared lie. Silencing spells when Regulus dared cry. 

She loved them. She loved them. They had to learn if they were to survive. 

She loved them. She loved them, really. 

But in the House of Black, soft things did not last. 

And maybe, as the years passed, Walburga forgot just how soft her baby’s skin had been, how precious they’d looked to her. Looked up to her. Maybe she forgot, in her obsession with giving them a good life, what real joy had looked like on her son’s faces. Forgot that it would not be found behind the green glow of a Cruciatus on her eldest’s face, or in the inky tendrils snaking up her youngest’s arm. 

Maybe she never stopped loving them. Maybe she just never learned to do it without thorns or an open hand. 

[music-for-them-asses]

Dear children at the pool screaming, why do you get to scream? IT SHOULD BE ME

[wickedsrest-rp]

Name: Regan Kavanagh Species: Banshee Occupation: Medical Examiner & Fae Doctor Age: 34 Years Old (Looks about 26) Played By: Casey Face Claim: Rose McIver

“It wasn’t an Irish death cult. It was Irish, and there was death, but Fate is not a charismatic leader.”

TW: Parental death

Sean Kavanagh had a secret: An Irish family full of traditions dark enough that once he was grown, he fled and moved to Maine, intent on putting everything behind him to protect himself. One blissful marriage, a home in Augusta, and three sons later, he thought it would never come to light. But he couldn’t quite escape his family’s ways after his daughter, Regan, was born. His separation from his family then became about protecting her, too, keeping her from becoming a monster like his mother.

Death had a way of clinging to some people, and Regan knew that better than almost anyone. She could never explain how she kept finding dead animals while she played outside with her brothers, or what made her come running back home with a human toe after a day at the beach. Sean saw the signs, especially after Regan’s early proclamations of becoming a Medical Examiner. It was so much death – could he really keep the family secret from her? He doubled down, ensuring Regan lived the most risk-free life possible. But her plan to become a doctor and pursue the field of forensic pathology held strong. She breezed through anything she put her mind to, including medical school, to which she dedicated her heart and soul. 

Regan had only briefly been working as a Medical Examiner in Kennebec county when she came face to face with her father’s secret. Though Sean had tried to run from his traditional banshee family, Fate caught up with him in the form of Cliodhna, Regan’s grandmother. Cliodhna was waiting for her granddaughter, and explained that she was a relative here to see her father. And finally, after so many years, Sean Kavanagh fulfilled his duty at the end of a knife, simultaneously bestowing Regan with her birthright. Cliodhna was the only one who could fix her late-blooming granddaughter. It wasn’t what Cliodhna had in mind for her Regan – hardly ceremonial enough – but it would have to do. Cliodhna whisked a terrified Regan away. She would be in the right place now, and with the right people, in an aos sí near Dublin called Saol Eile.

For the first couple of years with the banshees, any attempts at explanations and forgiveness slid off of an inconsolable Regan. She didn’t believe any of it, couldn’t work through the trauma of what she saw and what she was. But if nothing else, she knew she needed control. The screaming kept happening, and it had the potential to be lethal. Regan saw no other option than to submit herself entirely to the torture that masqueraded as training, which her grandmother insisted was the only way, the right way to gain control. She lived for the principle of primum non nocere. So instead of risking the harm of others, she harmed herself and her psyche, clawing through years of unspeakable miseries and emerging as a husk of her former self who had hard-won control, in a kind of death that left no cadaver to autopsy. To add insult to injury, she made a terrible banshee. Little came naturally due to her late introduction to all of this, and her grandmother’s approval was nonexistent. She wasn’t a late bloomer; she didn’t bloom at all.

The bright spot was that the banshees lacked a true physician until now, so she served the health of others in the aos sí with more gusto than she served Fate. Remaining a doctor gave her a purpose beyond the ones Cliodhna attempted to instill, tethering her to her old life.

It was her brother Reilly who eventually tracked her down. He managed to convince her brainwashed sister to follow him back to Maine, even though her training wasn’t nearly finished. It would fix everything! Reilly pointed out the opening for a Medical Examiner in Wicked’s Rest, and eventually departed when he trusted Regan would keep healing on her own. But Regan couldn’t fit in or connect with humanity anymore, only the dead. Time and persistence did their thing. Slowly, very slowly, she formed a web of connections that mattered to her, and Wicked’s Rest really did become home.

Until Siobhan. Another banshee, an exile with her own agenda that involved retrieving Regan for Saol Eile. Regan finally agreed to go so as not to harm the friends she had made and the woman she came to love, but Wicked’s Rest followed her to Ireland both literally and figuratively. As Cliodhna attempted to break Regan one last time, Regan fought back, pushing her grandmother into Saol Eile’s revered tar pit, where Cliodhna would spend years slowly sinking to her death. The ensuing trial saw Regan sentenced to remain there for 100 years, and have her wings removed. That didn’t happen – with help from her friends (and Siobhan...) Regan earned a newfound sense of freedom and could return home. But now that she’s rejected her duty and mostly escaped punishment, she isn’t so sure who or what she is anymore. Not a banshee. Could she be a human again? Her slipping control over her abilities, now that she’s choosing her own way, might mean otherwise.

Character Facts:

Personality: Serious, dedicated, gentle, curious, compassionate, cold, demanding, opportunistic, private, odd, entitled

As a Medical Examiner, Regan has vast knowledge of forensic pathology and death investigation. Outside of forensic pathology, she is a competent doctor, though really prefers working with the dead. She is familiar with fae (banshee, mostly) physiology and spent time treating them in Ireland.

Regan has three brothers, named Reilly, Alvin (Al), and Liam. She’s the youngest of the four, though born the same year as Al. She’s close with Reilly, often the voice of reason among bickering siblings.

Given Regan’s years of particularly intensive, brutal, and at times brainwashing training, she has fine control over her abilities when she’s focusing and giving in to the training and methods she was taught with. However, her control comes with great personal sacrifice, and she recently stopped making those sacrifices. 

While Regan has seen enough of banshees to understand there’s a lot in the world that doesn’t yet have a scientific explanation, and she’s seen more and more over time, she’s a skeptic. She wants to understand everything, and disapproves of some common word choices like “magic”. 

Regan has large cicada-like wings that lie flat against her back, with green venation and transparent membranes. They function but she doesn’t like them by association. She can’t glamour them herself and has necklace to help out.

During her “immersion” years in Saol Eile, Regan has become fluent in Irish, and picked up a slight lilt, though not enough to be considered an accent.  

[strawberrymothteeth]

Sunny d, mossy moss, pumpkin and mint muah <3

What kind of cookies do you want, moth?

hell yeah an accomplice. also fuck uhhhh good question. uhhhhhh gonna be real with you chief it is probably white chocolate macadamia nut cookies next is uhhhh probably monster cookies?

[edgarallanpoestan]

sometimes i wonder why my social skills arent great then i remember that i read encyclopedias and textbooks for fun unti llike middle school and got really obsessed w random things and was only friends w people who also got easily obsessed w things and basically it shouldve been way obvious i was nd

[mariusroyale]

.

[jammedmuses]

@curseofbreadbear said: [There's an exaggerated sniffle from the bear; his jaw trembles like he's three seconds away from bursting into tears. In reality, he'd been an instigator only moments ago, and was relying on Banshee to reassure and validate him. SURELY, he wasn't in the wrong.] "Th-That Freddy plush was mine! She had no right to take it from me!" -glamrock freddy for banshee LMAOOOO

" Now now Freddy. You know I wasn't too far away when it happened, right? "

Banshee said, still the ever so patient saint she is. While not exactly in her job description, she was tasked with minorly tidying up the Glamrocks' greenrooms (nothing major, putting empty bottles away, putting fallen plushies back in place, the sort,) and she had made it to Freddy's room by the time the whole confusion happened and she could witness it through the glass. Oh boy...

What has been going on with these guys lately?

She had already gone with closing the curtains, knowing Freddy would likely need a time to decompress, so he could do it without prying eyes. Yes, she knows he just tried to lie to her, and she absolutely let him know that-- but she also absolutely knows that berating him not only isn't what he needs, that isn't the way to it at all.

" Now, I know you're feeling very frustrated and overwhelmed at this moment, and that's understandable. " It's written all over his face, like an upset toddler ready to start bawling because such feeling is too big for their toddler body... even though the body in question here is even taller than her.

She gently takes hold of the oddly spoiled bear's hand into her own left hand, gingerly ushering him into taking a seat on his big couch. " Would you like to have a moment to cry it out first? It's okay if you need it. " She offers without judgment or condense. " I'll be right here if you need me too. "

[lawful-evil-novelist]

That I have an OC in Lawfulverse that is a young henchman for Scarecrow that becomes his own villain eventually (Dullahan) and that Silver Banshee exists, I have a solid case for a perfect triad team-up for Halloween-themed crimes on Mischief Night.

[skywitchmaja]

the thing i love about lydia is she’s nearly as adhd coded as stiles but on one hand, a lot of that can be attributed to her being a banshee but on the other hand she’s just like me fr

[pangur-and-grim]

pangur causes so many issues. she expects me to gently scoop her up and carry her to bed at night, where she'll sleep tucked into my arms like a teddybear, but last night I was dying of flu and crawled into bed early, alone. AND SO she spent 2.5 hours roaming my parents house screaming at the top of her lungs. she knew exactly where I was the entire time. she kept popping her tiny head through the doorway to peer at me with her huge black eyes & see if I'd heard her & was paying attention. and when I continued to die from the flu and not do anything, she'd leave and resume screaming like a banshee. what I was supposed to do was get out of bed, find her, pick her up, kiss her on her tiny inbred forehead, and say "ohhhhh poor sweetheart, ohhhhhh," and because I failed in this duty, everybody in the house had to listen the loudest, highest pitched screams a cat can produce for multiple hours into the early morning.

[wickedsrest-rp]

Name: Siobhan Dolan Species: Banshee Occupation: Archeology Professor Age: 106 Years Old (Looks about 40) Played By: Ria Face Claim: Anne Hathaway

"It's not murder, it's death with a narrative arc."

TW: Parental (figure) death

In the 19th century, an aspiring human philosopher penned his thoughts after months of deep introspection and meditation. He deduced that all of humanity was equal and the idea of the perfect individual was a harmful myth. He was promptly beheaded by a gaggle of fae who, after months of deep meditation, wanted to see if tossing a head around would be more fun than a ball. They were right.

Another phrase was penned: humans are lame. It was Siobhan Dolan’s great-great-great-great grandmother who wrote those words down and then forgot where she left her notebook. The spirit of it was passed down anyway.

Every Dolan knew that there was nothing more perfect than a banshee. Siobhan’s mother thought that there was no better example than her daughter. The details of Siobhan’s birth were unimportant, as all things pre-chéad scread are. What was significant was how Fate had blessed her with an awakening at just 8 years old. Siobhan watched her best, only, and tragically human friend die on the same table she pretended to eat her vegetables at. She shattered every window, as her mother would happily recall, and definitely did not cry for a week after.

For years she trained in the traditional way--the ritual slaughter of animals and torture of the body--with the aos sí her family had belonged to for generations. Every Dolan knew that to be a banshee wasn’t just to be perfect, beautiful, powerful, and obviously extremely humble, but to serve the world as an agent of Fate. Death came for all creatures but some would disgrace the natural order, escaping their destiny and throwing the world into chaos. Each scream was a call to action and Siobhan’s family were curators of Fate’s will against an increasingly disobedient world. Siobhan watched those she screamed for, taking their lives to ensure that Death couldn’t be averted. Siobhan was a faithful student of the ritual from her first kill at 15 through to her adulthood; always eager to please her mother and live up to the standards of excellence that her birthright promised.

Yet, there was a piece of perfection that she missed. It must have been the human friend she had long ago or the fondness she felt for every animal before its slaughter. When the death of Siobhan’s great-great-grandmother spilled a vision of murder at the hands of torturous wardens, she believed that her family deserved better. Siobhan took her great-great-grandmother’s life instead in an act of foolish kindness. She didn’t remember that Fate’s course shouldn't be played with. What happened now when wardens came to look for a banshee that was already gone? Where did they go next? One death turned to seven instead; other banshees that were found in place of her great-great-grandmother.

It was a mercy that Siobhan’s mother hadn’t killed her in punishment. Yes, the tearing of her wings from her back was itself another foolish kindness. The marring of her flesh was truly a show of sympathy. Siobhan’s sentence of banishment was an act of tenderness. And, even still, her aos sí conceding that if she proved herself worthy, she might be allowed to return, was a generosity. Siobhan knew not to take it for granted.

At first, the letters that instructed her how she could atone were tame: a murder here, a robbery there. But as time grew and memory of her crime faded, the demands turned absurd: getting dogs elected as town mayors, founding a cult whose only doctrine was to chew as loudly as possible in public, wrestling a bear, replacing the paint in a local hardware store so the color was always exactly one shade lighter than the sample. Regardless of what task she was given, Siobhan was as eager to please as she’d always been. Years later, one finally came in her mother’s handwriting: bring Regan Kavanagh back home.

Siobhan set out to Wicked’s Rest, confident that this command would be her final piece of atonement. She could be perfect, if only given the chance.

Character Facts:

Personality: Sardonic, charismatic, eclectic, shrewd, restless, determined, bitter, arrogant

Before her wings were torn out of her back, they resembled that of the cinnabar moth. Siobhan is under the impression that her wings are being kept safe and will be reattached upon her return.

Away from her aos sí and the traditions of her family, Siobhan doesn’t need to kill those she screams for but does so anyway. She finds it all to be rather therapeutic and feels uneasy if she hasn’t killed in some time

Siobhan thinks credit cards are a transportation device to a bottomless well of money somewhere. Don’t ask about her credit score.

Siobhan was given a dog by the previous owner of her house. If “previous owner” means the man she killed to take the house from and “given” means she couldn’t shoo it away. Its name is either George or Richard or John or something. Or was that the owner’s name? 

Siobhan’s diet is almost entirely comprised of cakes and beer.

Siobhan’s credentials are illegally earned. Thankfully, she only insists on being referred to as a doctor when she wants to be annoying. Unfortunately, that is all the time. 

Several years of living among humans has created a fear that she might not be all that better than them. To combat this horrifying thought, she stubbornly treats and speaks about humans like animals.

Ironically, Siobhan is extremely fond of animals.

[frotting-corporations]

parents don't scream, sob, punch the table, rupture my eardrums challenge

[space-dreams-world]

DPXDC AU: Common Ancestor..?

Dick Grayson, Jason Todd and Tim Drake, do ancestry test to prevent further people from showing up claiming to be family,but are not.

To the surprise of everyone, all them seem to have a common ancestor, someone with variations of the name Daniel.

<Danny, Dan and Dani all had a time travel adventure and fell in love with their respected partners. Their offspring have long line of unregulated abilities that get passed down.

Dick Grayson --》 Could be Dani/ Danny or Dan as Dani is seen as a free spirit, with endless energy or Dan as he seems to hold a lot of anger within himself at major points in his life [Parent's death,Jason',etc...] and Danny as he loves to fly and be in the air. (he would be a Banshee)

Jason Todd --》 Could Dan or Danny as Dan also experience anger that withe pit would have amplified due to his injustice death. And Danny as Jason was revived through unusual circumstances and heavily associated with Death. (He is the classic revenant or a halfa)

Tim Drake --》 Could be Dani or Danny, as Dani is a very curious person and has a habit of trying to please people or Danny as he is prone to not dying. (He would be wandering spirit)>

They want to find out more and see that there is a modern relative that is still alive and they decide to meet them to find out their history. Their name is Jasime Fenton.

[The Danny's are not dead, they are in the GZ doing different things..]