#death in childbirth tw

[thisfairytalegonebad]

"You'll have to go through me." - Whumptober day 28

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Character: Gladiolus Amicitia Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Death of a parent, death in childbirth (no details)

Read below the cut or on AO3 here.

Gladio is a protector, born and bred. It’s hammered into his head from childhood, but he also takes to it naturally. He’s a mama’s boy through and through, and he’s determined to protect her, something he never tires of telling her. She’ll read him stories of brave knights saving a princess from a dragon, and he’ll tell her, with all the sincerity his four-year-old self is capable of, that he’ll save her from a dragon if necessary because he loves her so much. And she’ll laugh and kiss his head and promise him that he’d make the most perfect knight who ever lived.

When she tells him he’s going to be a big brother, he’s over the moon. He spends hours with his head on her stomach, trying to hear his little sister’s heartbeat even though his mother tells him she’s too little to have a heartbeat yet. The last four months of the pregnancy, his mother has to spend on bedrest, and Gladio barely leaves her side during that time. At first, she reads to him to pass the time, but eventually, he can see that it’s too exhausting for her to hold the book and focus on the words, even though she never outright tells him.

By now, Gladio is old enough to know that it’s not dragons he’ll protect his mother from, and he’s starting to understand that what is happening to her is not something he can protect her from at all. But what he can do is keep her company and try to make her feel better, and so he applies his newly developed reading skills to read the stories to her instead. She often falls asleep during the story, earlier and earlier until she barely makes it through the first couple of pages, but it’s alright - she used to read him stories to make him go to sleep, so it just means he’s doing a good job.

One night, when his little sister is almost ready to come, Gladio says good night to his mother like always, standing on his toes so he can kiss her cheek, and then he goes to bed. He’s barely been asleep for an hour when he’s woken again by frantic voices, the sound of people running, and his father’s voice that is tinted with an emotion Gladio has never heard from him before - fear.

He climbs out of bed and goes to investigate, but he barely makes it out into the hallway before Jared catches him and leads him to the living room instead. He keeps Gladio calm and distracts him long enough that he starts to think that everything is going to be alright after all, and when he hears the sound of a baby crying, he jumps up from the couch and takes off running towards his mother’s room before Jared can stop him.

Gladio will never forget the look on his father’s face that night, sitting next to the bed with the screaming baby in his arms and Gladio’s mother, lying unmoving and paler than the sheets she’s covered with.

Years later, his father confesses to him that he was afraid that Gladio would end up resenting his sister, blaming her for their mother’s death, and were Gladio not Gladio but any other child, that might very well have happened. But Gladio takes to Iris in an almost obsessive manner, projecting all his love for his mother onto her and adding the love he’s held for Iris herself from the day he learned of her existence.

A natural big brother, they call him, but to this day Gladio is not sure how much of his admittedly insane protective streak is the constant reminders of the job he was born with, how much is trauma and how much is really just instinct. It doesn’t really matter, though, and he’ll probably never find out either way.

What does matter is that he meets little Prince Noctis when they’re both young children with poor emotional regulation and both of them have their fair share of issues to work through, so most of their encounters end in screaming matches and tears.

Gladio has met King Regis many times, and sometimes his mother’s fairytales weren’t fairytales at all but true stories of Dad and the King’s adventures together, so he knows how impressive the man is. He’s the archetype of a King, and when Gladio is told that he will one day be Shield to King Regis’ son, he envisions himself serving a King much like Regis.

Noctis is not at all like his father, though, and for a long time, the thought of him fills Gladio with rage and despair because how is he supposed to protect someone who is so weak and helpless and doesn’t seem to put the barest amount of effort into anything? Worse, he is supposed to die for someone like that?

He only enters an uneasy truce with Noctis when the Prince helps bring back lost Iris and even covers for her when she’s about to be reprimanded. There’s mutual respect between them, now, though their relationship continues to be rocky. But at least now, Gladio is able to make his peace with his role by Noctis’ side, and he starts to feel similarly protective of the kid as he is of Iris.

Gladio doesn’t really have time for deep, intimate friendships or other relationships that don’t involve Noctis, which is probably a blessing because it seems that loud, protective part of him just latches onto everyone he starts to care about. It’s something he starts to realise when he befriends the Prince’s stuck-up advisor, Ignis Scientia, and makes it his personal mission to get the guy to loosen up and smile every once in a while.

Before he knows it, Ignis has somehow become his best friend, but in some ways, this friendship is even harder to navigate than his tentative friendship with Noct. The main problem is that Gladio instinctively tries to take care of Ignis the way he does with Iris and Noctis, but Ignis is notoriously hard to care for. It’s something Gladio learns the hard way when polite, soft-spoken Ignis turns prickly and hissy and refuses to talk to him for a week only because Gladio suggested he go and have a chat with some of the council-assholes that have been needling Ignis endlessly over some non-issue for the past few weeks.

“I can fight my own battles, Gladio,” Ignis says, and Gladio says, “I know,” and perfections the art of taking care of Iggy in a subtle, plausibly deniable way. It comes in the form of casually backing up his suggestions during meetings with arguments of his own, of warm takeout boxes Gladio brings to Ignis’ office because he was “getting lunch for himself and would appreciate some company while eating”, of sparring matches coincidentally scheduled just as Ignis threatens to crack under the stress and desperately needs to blow off some steam.

Gladio is admittedly a bit of a hard-ass where Noct is concerned, but he’ll turn right around and threaten to break some new recruit’s nose who mutters something about the Prince being a spoiled brat. He hangs out with Iggy, drags him to bars every once in a while, makes sure he doesn’t get crushed under the weight of the expectations and responsibilities piled onto his shoulders.

And it works, for the most part. Gladio loves them both as fiercely as he loves Iris and loved his mother, his entire world revolves around them, and yeah maybe that’s not exactly the healthiest thing, but honestly, with the way this whole Shield business was beaten into his brain, who can really blame him?

What he doesn’t expect is there to be a fourth person thrown into the mix. Gladio would have thought there to be a limit to how much love a person has to give, but Prompto makes himself at home in his heart right next to the others before he can even really notice it.

Prompto, in a way, is also hard to take care of. He’s different from Ignis in the sense that he’s desperate for approval and terrible at hiding it, but when he’s offered any kind of support, he dissolves into a flushed, stuttering mess, and trying to freely hand anything out to him is a challenge. It’s no secret that he’s not that well off, financially speaking, and Gladio can tell that eats at him, especially surrounded by people who have more money than they can spend in one lifetime. But he absolutely refuses to let them buy him anything, and it takes Gladio a while to figure out where the line is - what he can just casually pay for despite Prompto’s protests and what will make Prompto feel more miserable than if he just let him pay for it himself.

The kid soaks up affection like a sponge, and Gladio’s always been tactile, so he makes it a point to initiate physical contact frequently, much like he does with Iris - headlocks, ruffled hair, one-armed hugs when they’re joking around, and Prompto seems to thrive under the attention.

When they leave Insomnia for Noct’s wedding, it’s not long before their world crumbles before their eyes, and suddenly, Gladio has to come to terms with his father’s death - and his own, subsequent promotion from Shield to the Prince to Shield to the King. The pain is raw and makes him angry - his sorrow has always manifested in the form of anger, in the end.

But after some time, the pain isn’t quite so sharp anymore as it dulls into an ache, that’s sometimes more or less noticeable, but almost always bearable. Despite their circumstances, Gladio feels more content than he ever has before, especially once he knows Iris is safe in Cape Caem. He has three of his four favourite people with him at all times, and he’s always loved camping - it’s really not all terrible.

That is, of course, until they get to Altissia and everything goes downhill faster than any of them can process. Within mere weeks, Ignis is blind, Prompto is gone and Noct is an empty shell of himself, and Gladio can feel everything he cares about crumble beneath his hands and run through his fingers like ash.

What use is he to them, he wonders, if he can’t do a damn thing to protect them? Why would the Astrals - the universe, whoever - tie his heart to those people and then rip it apart within the blink of an eye by putting them through the most horrifying things Gladio can’t even dream of protecting them from?

It eats at him for ten entire years until they get Noct back. By now, they all know about the prophecy, courtesy of Lunafreya's dead dog who showed Ignis a cruel prophecy as the last thing he ever saw before the ring burnt away his vision. And they all agree, of course, that they won't just stand by and let it happen, not on their watch. They inform Noct of that, briefly, because there's really not much to discuss there - they are going to save him, no matter what it takes.

Gladio is determined to finally make things right, and so they set out to Insomnia to reclaim Noct's throne.  Ardyn sits on it like a content cat, sprawled out as he awaits them, expression warping into the grin of a predator when they approach him.

Ardyn hits them with some sort of spell, the three of them, and Gladio crumples to his knees, fighting to keep his consciousness. Next to him, Ignis and Prompto collapse to the ground and lie unmoving, and Gladio fervently hopes Ardyn didn't kill them - he'll tear the bastard's throat out with his bare hands if he did.

"What did you do!?" Noct demands, horrified as he stares at their bodies on the ground.

"They have no place in this, the battle of Kings," Ardyn purrs, and suddenly, he's no longer on the throne, instead standing on top of the rubble grinning down at Noct. "Come, Noctis!"

With all his remaining strength, Gladio struggles upright, sword in hand as he staggers forward.

"You'll have to go through me," he says, standing proud and unwavering, sword lifted in a protective stance in front of Noct - in front of all of them.

And this time, he's not going to fail.

----

Read all of my Whumptober prompt fills here.

#whumptober2023 #no.28 #you'll have to go through me #ffxv #final fantasy xv #fic #parent death tw #death in childbirth tw #gladiolus amicitia #thisfairytalegonebad's writing

[uncrvwned]

META   +  Edmure and his relationship with his father

Edmure is the youngest Tully child and the long-awaited heir; it's a common-place enough affliction in Westeros and certainly not the worst position someone could be in. While Edmure's birth did not specifically kill Minisia Tully, she was weakened by constant pregnancy, and his little brother, born only a year after him, was the last she would bear. She did not long outlive him. Edmure was a loud, boisterous toddler, ill-suited to a grieving household. He was mostly raised by his sisters, spoiled and cossetted, quite happy to be dressed in ribbons and petted. It was his Uncle Brynden who took over his military training, and who provided some much-needed discipline.

There is someone missing in all this description. Hoster Tully loved his son, but never really understood him. Everything came easily to Edmure, and perhaps a part of Hoster envied him, or resented him. Brynden always accused Hoster of being too soft on Edmure, letting him get away with all manner of extravagance and mischief, but Edmure would've given much for a sharp word from his father. Perhaps then it would've meant he'd made an impact. They are too different to ever debate or swap ideas, like Hoster does with Catelyn, but they do not clash, either. They seem to pass each other, like ships in the night: surface level affection, with an unnerving chasm underneath.

Hoster refuses to send Edmure away to be fostered, but it is not - or so Edmure believes - out of any particular love for him. Sometimes Edmure thinks that if he were to slip away in the middle of the night and leave behind some other tall-redheaded youth, his father wouldn't even notice. The only time his father really steps in to lay down the law is when he prevents Edmure from riding south with Brandon Stark.

So. It is a relationship constantly at cross-purposes. Hoster is unable to express the real love and pride he feels in his son, falling back on platitudes that ring false, like pre-determined templates: how to talk to your heir. Edmure longs to impress his father, desperate for glory, to do something to make himself stand out. All attempts to gain his father's attention result in a vague nod and a smile, while Catelyn effortlessly engages Hoster in hour long debates about subjects Edmure barely understands. They love one another, but consistently fail to communicate, all the way up until Hoster's death, when he doesn't even ask for Edmure during his long illness.

thank you my angel @pulchramsolis for the ask <3

#( ft. edmure | musings ) #eek idk if i articulated this well at ALL!!! but thank u for letting me try gkjdsfs #( metas ) #childbirth tw #death in childbirth tw

[starsallalight]

On the day they died, Benedict and Grace were coming back from checking in on a friend whose wife had recently died in childbirth.

Their carriage was hit by another carriage, the driver of which was drunk. All 3 were thrown. Grace died on the scene, and Benedict and the other driver died later while receiving care at a hospital.

In modern verses, the accident is caused by a drunk driver speeding through a red light and hitting them as they attempted to make a turn.

#➳ 𝑎𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑠 & 𝑠𝑎𝑑 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑒 ➳ ; 𝑒𝑚𝑚𝑦 ; ❨headcanons❩ #Death Tw #Death in childbirth Tw #Drunk Driving Tw

[natjennie]

okay, bear with me this requires a lot of context. imagine that you wake up on a space ship with an alien species capable of telepathic communication with you. they are also capable of instilling you with the knowledge that everything they say is completely true, there is not a hint of uncertainty in your mind. they have weapons capable of obliterating earth pointed at the planet, and are forcing you to do one of two things in order to not fire. within the fiction of the scenario you are not being given the choice, but you the real you is picking which one of these things you'd rather have happen.

you must eat an 8 ounce serving of human baby meat, by default prepared like a steak (different preparations can be requested). you do not have to keep the meat down once you're done, but you have to get all of it in your body at one point. they do not provide any information about where the baby came from or how it died. if you complete this, they will deposit you back on earth and you will be free from legal repercussions of cannibalism, and it is generally agreed that you are also free from moral blame as it was against your will.

you will be surgically impregnated with a human embryo and must carry it to term and give birth. the embryo does not contain your dna, but otherwise you don't know anything about its origins. the aliens have advanced medical technology that gives you sufficient anatomy to carry and birth the baby, and keeps you healthy throughout, with no risk of long term complications or death. you have the choice to keep or give away the baby once you have given birth, and will be deposited back on earth.

if you refuse to comply in either situation, they destroy the earth and you are forced to live the rest of your life aboard the space ship as a prisoner, until you die of natural causes.

so,

#tw: child death #tw: childbirth #childbirth #child death #tw: cannibalism #cannibalism #tw: pregnancy #pregnancy #aliens #how else do i need to tag this #let me know #i only realized right as i finished typing that this could be triggering im sorry #please tell me if i need to tag anything else

[tooquirkytolose]

Little Annie Clear

#my art #comic #tw for- #blood #death by childbirth #gore #ask to tag! #from the poll way back when-this is the monster birth comic #oh also! I tried to put emphasis on LITTLE annie clear becuse she's meant to be like..15 and the hunter is a..uh..grown man

[rouecentric]

Hello! Are requests open? Can you do more lant agriche x reader pls 😭😭😭

COLD HANDS AND A HARDENED GLARE.

synopsis ; the cruel head of the black agrece, a menacing man, truly, but he was nothing more than a loving grandfather to his grandchild.

tw/cw ; lant agrece in general, childbirth, death.

letter from the stars ; i made these into a half headcannons- half oneshot and made it platonic since you didn't specify what kind of relationship you wanted lant to have with reader, so i hope you don't mind it!!

LANT AGRECE, a man who's said to not care about anything but himself, a man who's the head of the black agrece, a monster in many people's eyes, but to you? he was just a peculiar and strange grandfather.

the duke thought he wouldn't care about his family, simply using them to his benefits and wants, until his eldest son, dion, had a child with his now-dead wife, with the child thankfully ending up healthy.

but, just for the sake of it and to keep his son in check, he had come unannounced to his grandchild's nursery to see what all the fuss is about when it came to the newborn, as he heard that the newborn was oddly calm, rarely crying or making noise, instead just either staying quiet or sleeping. once he had arrived at the nursery, he ushered the maids and nanny out, wanting to be alone with the child for until he left.

after his meeting with the newborn, it's been said and known that the head of the black agrece would then on often visit his grandchild, usually having a gift for them.

that revelation somewhat shook the other agrece members, but mostly dion, jeremy, and roxana. what did the newborn do to make the head like them so much? they'll unfortunately never get to find out, though.

once the new addition of the family turned old enough, they'd soon enough constantly find themselves stay beside their grandfather's side during meetings, going as far as to join the banquets he went to with their father, aunt, and uncle.

everywhere the head of the black agrece went you would too, it was almost if he gained a shadow that mimicked everything he did. it was almost terrifying to think that the young child could resemble the head that much, even though only in behavior.

it's not unknown that he favored you more than his children, teaching you everything he knew from a young age, as a way for you to both bond and to raise you as a possibly fitting future head if dion ever dies prematurely.

#manhwa #manhwa x reader #manhwaxreader #cw death #tw death #twtptflob x reader #twtptflob #lant agriche #lant agrece #platonic manhwa #tw childbirth #cw childbirth #platonic x reader #platonic headcanons #{astral letters from beyond?}— fanfiction. #this is actually kinda sucky.. I did a pretty bad job on this-sorry!!! </3

[terrence-silver]

Can you please do a scenario where Terrys beloved dies during childbirth and how he copes with his grief. Would he accept and love the baby or reject and blame the baby.

---

Like five hundred other people are to blame.

Surgeons. Doctors. Nurses. Midwives. The medical staff at the emergency room. The poor, unlucky chauffeur who drove the beloved to their usual appointments, for all we know. The measures they took. The measures they didn't take. The amount of dedication they clearly didn't show, in his opinion. It is the ultimate betrayal that'll get so many people hurt. When Terry Silver pays a sum for a service, he expects the service delivered to perfection and according to his instructions; that's how that social contract works because nothing's for free, and if you throw a whole fortune at something, you expect nothing but your vision delivered to you down to the smallest details. The fact that he was failed so catastrophically it resulted in the death of the person he covets and loves the most? Someone stripped away beyond his control to stop it!? When he trusted vetted professionals, the best of the best in their field, to do the job right!? I swear to god, heads will fly. He daydreams about what could've happened if he just kicked down the doors of the delivery room and carried beloved out of there before it was too fucking late. The revenge will be horrifying, though. People will lose jobs. Their licenses to practice medicine. They'll be blacklisted. Sued. They'll find their cars blown up. Their places of residence broken into. Burned down. The hospital they worked in foreclosed, bought out, bulldozed overnight and turned into an empty privately owned lot until not even a single brick remains of the place that killed beloved. For the love of all that's holy, some of the participants involved in the tragedy might even find their own loved ones done in by mysterious circumstances because blood can be only repaid by blood. A life for a life. And since Terry might just think the life of someone he loves is worth infinitely more than just one life, the retaliation can be truly awful and result in some many injured parties and so much damage it is pretty hard to describe just how far he'd go.

Pretty far, I'd reckon.

Murder, carnage and torture type of far.

When the dragon's been woken, it's impossible to get him to slumber again.

But, however far it does go, I doubt he'd ever blame his child; if anything, his possessiveness of them is only kickstarted into some very excessive territories day one seeing as how they're the last thing he has left off from beloved and the one thing that'll outlive him and carry him on, into the future, and so, all the more reason for him to be devoted to his offspring with all the lovesickness a human heart can produce, blaming, perhaps, himself, all the more, behind the narcissistic facade that he is infallible and all powerful. Terry actually feels he's entirely to blame, triggered into a bygone time where his clumsiness resulted in a friend's death, and here he is, decades later, at the very exact same place. He lost control then and he lost control now. Almost like he's back at the very same spot he was in Vietnam and he's still that scared, shivering boy in the cage and he's angry. Desperate. Vulnerable. And oh so feral. And everyone best beware. This is an issue that The Valley might just end up burning down over, engulfing everything far and wide. Man would step on the whole world because he'd feel the world deserves it now more than ever.

This is an extremely deadly mindset to put Terry Silver into.

No telling how violently all of it could culminate in his mourning.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #tw; death #tw; death at childbirth #terry as father #terry silver as a parent #terry silver as a father #dad!terry #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #angst #ptsd

[nonuggetshere]

I shared my (and my friend's ocs) that are related to PK SO-

This is A LOT and I'm kinda embarrassed but I'll fucking "cringe culture is dead" through life or so help me GOD

I like imagining backstories for characters and making cool little nonsensical and completely self-indulgent AUs

(Also for the few people subscribed to my patreon there's more stuff after what I've posted there, just scroll a bit down 👍)

F9r the record I also mangled mine and @demonicintegrity 's thoughts and ideas into one post so it's somewhat comprehensible but jsyk they contributed a lot

An AU where Adamas has her last clutch in her small form

As a refresher Amanita is White Lady's name and Ebur is Pale King's name. Adamas is Pale King's mother, though wyrms use dame and sire for their parents so that's what he calls her. I am yet to properly share Quercus but he's WL's father. Flower is my name for the Pure Vessel in this AU, Hallow is their birth name. Amaryllis is an oc, they're Flower's twin. Any other names that appear here are PK's siblings.

Also using they/it for Ebur and the rest of the family bc as wyrms they don't really have genders

Ebur and Amanita meeting while Ebur's family is travelling and Amanita still lives at the edge of her father's territory and her root system is connected with his but she's getting ready to leave hopefully in just one or two years when she's gathered enough strength and the spring's kind and abundant

Adamas' little group settles near her groove since it's brimming with life and there's not many people to get in the way or compete over resources with aside from the occasional traveller or two, and Amanita tolerates their presence for now, they give her something to do since her father is quite busy with his new seedlings now that she's grown and she doesn't have much company or things to do other than to listen to the occasional mortal passing by and watch the nature, so this small group of wyrms that's mostly composed of ones not much younger than her with all the hubris and boldness of young wyrms is the most interesting thing that's happened to her in a while

Some of them would probably push too far before Adamas had to smack them upside the head and reprimand them for ever thinking about taking over this territory, after all they're really on the larger territory of an ancient God, and even though Roots aren't known to be the most attentive of parents she still doesn't want to tempt fate and check if this one is the same by attacking his daughter

Either way, Amanita notices the younger wyrm isn't quite like the others and seems very intrigued by him

Although their first in face meeting wasn't the best, with her attacking him and managing to stab him in the ribs (you bet your ass Adamas chewed out his ass when he returned to their densite all bloody and holding his side), he kept returning to study her

Seems they both found each other intriguing

And eventually they get to talking, Ebur seemed excited to meet the first rootfolk in his life and actually to get to talk to her, he asks so many questions and she's amused with his curiosity, and eventually actually grows curious about the wyrms (and especially him) herself and asks him things in turn

They grow into unlikely friends though there's definitely more to it but neither is willing to acknowledge it yet

He often sneaks away from his family just to talk to her, and eventually they start sneaking into the more private parts of her groove with the excuse that they wouldn't want Ebur's family finding out they're friends, both of them just ignoring their glaringly obvious attraction to each other

One time Ebur brought her a kill he made and she hoped to GOD her blush wasn't noticeable (it was, not that he'd know because he was also avoiding eye contact to try and hide his own)

Ebur and the bad bitch he pulled by being autistic 💜

The group spends enough time around there for the two idiots to stop dancing around the subject and not only admit to their mutual attraction but to start to fall in love

Enough so that Ebur decides to stay when Adamas decides it's time to move on

At first she was about to talk sense into him about staying permanently in this place but he quickly corrected her

"No, no, it's not like that! I don't want to stay here permanently! I just..." He quieted down and looked away

"...You want to leave?"

"...mh..."

"Are you sure about this? Life as a lone wyrm isn't easy out there in the Wastelands, perhaps it'd be better if you stuck around until we find a suitable territory for you to stay at-"

"No, dame, I- I want to leave now. I think it's time. I love you all and I'll miss you, but...I just...I want to see what's out there for myself. Every year, every day, feels the same now; find some place, stay for a bit and hunt, move on. I- I can't live like this, it feels...suffocating."

"...You were always the curious kind, weren't you? I should have known this routine would bore you eventually," She sighed heavily and approached him, "I always knew this day would come, I just never expected it to be my youngest and smallest wyrmling that leaves the nest first..." She pulled him into a tight hug, "...Stay one last night with us, and if you're still sure about this after tomorrow's hunt I'll leave some supplies for you when we move on."

He smiled and hugged her back, "...Thank you..."

"Just promise me you'll be safe, okay?"

"You taught me well. I'll be alright, I promise."

He spends lots of time with his siblings and mother the next day, maybe Melpomene proposed she could come with since they were always the closest but he reassured her he wanted to be alone

The goodbye is very tearful, even Adamas cries and she's not the type to do that often

Ebur feels a little broken seeing them go, it feels weird being completely alone, strangely quiet too - he usually likes the quiet, but not this time. He goes to hunt to keep his mind off it then that evening he gathers his things and moves them to a densite way closer to his root's (his root, saying that makes him so giddy) and goes to share his kill with her

And that night, for the first time in their lives, he goes to sleep curled up around her amongst her roots. It does help him feel much better about having to say goodbye to his family

He spends the rest of the year in her groove with her - from summer to winter - before she's finally ready to move on next spring and he happily follows her to look for a new home for the both of them

Despite the new normal being hard to get used to at first he was still so unbelievably happy with her

And Quercus was considerably easier to hide their relationship from than his own family, considering they're on the outskirts of his territory and Ebur never saw him in person. As far as Quercus is concerned, Amanita just has a mild wyrm problem that she's handling well on her own

A few different  things could happen from then on

Could either go canon compliant or pull out one of my fav moves, a cute domestic AU where they don't found Hallownest or do it later down the line after already having children and just live for a while as a happy family

And also the Drama Flavour where Ebur ends up pregnant despite them not trying to, they say fuck it and have them but he gets very sick and she brings him to her father for help, cue him being appalled that she's partners with a wyrm and her telling him to suck a dick and she'll take care of him herself, then they have the worst luck ever after finding a brand new territory and stumble onto Ebur's family, and Adamas has some very strong opinions about him being mates with a root (she doesn't even realise he's expecting otherwise it would have been. Worse). Fucking Romeo and Juliet up in here

For the last idea, I like the idea of Adamas questioning if that root can even provide for him or any possible clutches he might have in the future and he gets so pissed off he bristles, tells her to drop it and he's done with her attitude and to get the fuck off his territory. She bristles and calls him out on being so cocky as to tell her to get out

"If you're so confident then come on, defend your territory! Kick me out yourself!"

"Stop it-"

"Come on, boy! Show me you can actually protect yourself and yours! If you want me out them force me out!"

"I'm not going to fight you, mother!"

"...Tsk, you even talk like her."

"...Just...Just leave...please."

She circles him, "You should know words won't be enough to protect your territory from intruders, and that young root definitely doesn't have it in her to do it. You promised me you'll stay safe, so show me you can actually take care of yourself!"

Instead she gets violently thrown back by a white root after Amanita returns to check up on her hubby <3

Puts herself between them, ready to snap their necks with her roots if she has to

"He told you to leave, so leave. Or should I make you, you old bag?"

"Amanita-"

Of course, it was 25% him not being willing to fight his own mother and 75% him being sick and not willing to risk the pregnancy, but he's not gonna tell her that when she reacted so negatively about him being mates with a root (and his siblings def teased him before the situation got serious)

He's gonna be SO fucking depressed about this later though

But I also just like the idea of them finding the place that would later become Hallownest and founding the kingdom together

Ebur: Babe do you want me to beat up this old slug for you?

Amanita: Oh how romantic~

Unn:(live slug reaction)

Unn: Just take the damn territory and leave me alone, you brats

I also made an entire AU with Integrity where PK moves on with his family with a promise that he'll be back next spring for her, only to realise he's expecting. And I am obsessed with this version, it's cute and domestic (in a wyrm kind of way) and I am sucker for these things.

Ebur leaves with his family, promising to return to her next spring so they can leave together, but what he DIDN'T account for was him getting pregnant

So now he has to think up an idea to sneak away and keep his pregnancy hidden until he's back with her. Very hard to do with his mother around, an old wyrm with decades worth of clutches she's reared into adulthood by herself, she sussed him out embarrassingly quickly

Ebur, trying to sneak out: 💦💦💦

Adamas, like she’s scolding a teen: where are you going at this hour?

Ebur: …. A walk to clear my head?

Adamas: do you think that excuse worked with your siblings back then?

Ebur: … no

Adamas: do you think it’s gonna work now?

Ebur: ……… no

Ebur, quickly thinking of something else: ......hunting...

Adamas: Hunting?

Ebur: Hunting.

Adamas: At midnight? With your white, glowing ass? After we just ate?

Ebur: .........I'm hungry.

Adamas: Uh-huh

Ebur, bristling: Well! I'm a grown wyrm, I can do what I want!

Adamas: Oh can you now?

Ebur: 💦💦💦

Adamas: You're an adult but I'm still this group's leader, including yours

Ebur: Yes, dame. I'm sorry, dame

He does his best to mask his scent and keep his hormones and instincts under control, tries to sleep a little further from the group, is very careful on hunts and starts eating away from them when food aggression starts kicking his ass

One time Adamas finally approached him at meal time, throwing him her portion

"Here, eat up."

He looks at her, confused, "...I...what?"

"Just eat, kid."

He hesitantly takes it and leaves it near as he continues with his portion, "Don't you need to eat also?"

"Eh, I've eaten enough. Besides, I'm not the one who's eating for more than one right now."

"HRK-"

He looks at her, horrified, and she can't help but laugh

"What? You think I haven't noticed? Come on, you could fool your siblings with your excuses but I've had plenty of clutches of my own," She pats him on the shoulder, "Come on, eat up, kid. You need to put some meat on these bones."

He sighs heavily and goes back to eating, red in the face and a little awkward, unable to look her in the eyes as she's just observing him

"...If you copulated around the time of your first heat last spring-"

"HRNK?!"

"Oh, don't be like that, you're not a child anymore. Anyway, your due date should be in winter...not the ideal time to have a clutch, but we could make this work. You'll need to eat a lot if this kid is to have any chance of survival, though," She looked back st him, "...If you want to keep it, that is."

He goes quiet, his tail curling in close, "...I...y-yeah, I do..."

"...Alright, if that's what you want."

"You seem nervous."

"...How- how could I not be? I mean, all of this, it's...it's my first brood, and if they're due in winter..."

She scoots closer to him and wraps her tail around him, "Hey...you're not alone in this, okay? You have your siblings and I, we'll take care of you and your young. It's going to be alright." And she nuzzles him gently

Obviously they figure out the children are part root, but only some time after they're born

At least now Ebur has an excuse to return to her, saying she'd have valuable input on caring for them

That doesn't stop his siblings from teasing him about possibly wanting to see her again and being in love (they're right, but he's not about to admit it)

Also the moment he accidentally let's her name slip he's not gonna hear the end of it

Adama: So you want to return to the groove?

Ebur: Yes. I mean, she taught me a lot about rootfolk, but-

Io: Uh-huh, I bet she did. Close and perso-

Ebur, slapping him with his tail: ...Anyway. She told me a lot, but still, Amanita would kno-

Adustus: YOU KNOW HER NAME?!

Ossum: OHHH, LITTLE LOVERBOY IS ON FIRST NAME BASIS WITH THE ROOT~?

Ebur: You're killing me

God can you imagine what kind of pains in the ass these cunts were when Adamas and Ebur broke the news to them

Constant teasing and asking who it was

Ebur gets no rest

Adamas takes her little shits on a training hunt again

"Why do we need to train anyway? You've taught us how to hunt seasons ago."

"I did, but not with two members down. You need to practice now before your sibling stops being able to join us on hunts."

"...two...?"

"Yes, two. It'll be safer if somebody stays behind with Ebur when he's further along and carrying for his young, so I need to know we'll be able to provide for this family with two hunters down and more mouths to feed."

"...Can't I join your hunts anyway? You hunted by yourself while pregnant, didn't you?"

"I did, but I was also alone, I had no choice. You shouldn't have to choose between your children's safety and finding food. We live as a family for a reason, what would we be but animals if we don't take care of each other? I'm not letting you or your young live like lone nomads when you have us."

They also hunt more since Ebur needs more food, especially later down the line, and if anybody complains she's gonna cut that shit down SO fast

"I don't want to hear it! Ebur and the brood they're carrying are your kin, so start acting like it and have some damn respect. Do you think Ebur would be here complaining if the roles were reversed? Do you think they wouldn't care for you when you need it? We're a family, we take care of each other, in sickness and in health. Your sibling and his children need you. If that's a problem for you, you're free to leave and live as a nomad, but as long as you follow me and are a part of this family I don't want to hear any complaining, got it?"

"...yes, dame. I'm sorry."

"Instead of apologising to me make yourself useful. And treat your siblings kinder, one day you might be the one who needs their help so you better hope your words don't come back to bite you then."

Adamas is a strict parent but very much loves her family and it's so important to her that they take care of each other <3

She's a good mum, if a little bit hard on them at times

Melponeme, loafing in front of Ebur: ….

Ebur: …. What. Go away

Melp: im not touching you

Ebur: what do you want

Melp, loafing, staring: ……….

Ebur: ………………

Melp: you’re gettin fat

Ebur: no shit it’s almost like a have a litter growing inside me

Melp, reaching over to poke his stomach:

Ebur, batting: stop that!!!

Melp: how many do you think they’re gonna be?

Ebur: I dunno

Melp: probably like. A lot of you keep growing at this rate

(And then it's just two. Absolute menace <3 won't give him a break)

Ebur, growling:

Adamas: Dear, if you keep poking at a predator like that it's gonna strike

Melp: Nahhh, they're harmle-

Ebur, pouncing on her:

Melp: !!!

"Don't be too rough with your sibling, they're expecting."

"Oh come on! They started it! They can't keep holding the pregnancy thing over our head constantly!"

Ebur sitting there like >:3

“Well they’ve got a few more months and then it’s fair game”

"Oh, so you'd beat up a new parent and leave my children orphaned? How cruel"

"I'm not gonna kill you, you maniac?!"

Also once he's much further along he digs himself a separate den and slowly moves in there, it worries his siblings but Adamas assures them it's normal, wyrms prefer to be alone in the first few days before and after giving birth

"Are you sure they're okay? Can't they stay with us?"

"Pff, would you prefer to get growled at and possibly mauled every time you come into your den? They'll be fine, don't worry."

His siblings go out hunting and gathering more often after that and finally give him lots and lots of warm and soft bedding for his new den

"Since you'll sleep alone we thought you and the baby could use some warmer bedding."

And he can't help but smile and wag his tail

Wondering if wyrms would have a word for aunt/uncle and what would it be?? Obviously not auncle, since aunt and uncle aren't wyrm temrs

Currently they don't have any, anybody beyond your parents, siblings and young are just "kin"

Maybe they'd use cousin? (As in. Also use cousin, not a replacement for aunt/uncle. I realised I worded this weird)

Half of this is Ebur's siblings fretting over him and Adamas having to keep them straight and from freaking out KDBDJRB

“GET OUT OF MY DEEENNNN”

“Oh but we worry about our poor lil sibling!!”

“FUCK OOOFFF”

Gonna get hissy and pissy and Adamas will just shake her head and say she warned them

“Can we see the babies now— UAGH”

“-HISSSSS-“

Glaring at them from the entrance of his den before the babies even arrive

"You're so lucky I'm round and slow right now"

“Hehe spherical”

“Shut the fuck up”

Also been thinking about the delivery. This sounds weird,,

TW for childbirth, pregnancy, etc, and mention of near infant death

Anyway, his siblings would notice he stopped eating, only stays in his den, and would bring it up to Adamas

Her ear just twitches and she looks over at his den, "...Seems the little one will arrive any moment, then."

"Huh?"

"How can you tell?"

"I also stopped eating like two to three days before I had you or any of my previous litters. It's normal. Just give them some space, they're going to be especially irritable now."

Then one night one of them wakes up and immediately wakes the others, as Adamas isn't in the den. They peek out to look for her and find her just sitting nearby and staring at Ebur's den

"...Dame? Why aren't you in the nest?"

"Quiet down. Do you smell that?"

They pause to scent the air

"...blood?"

"...It's been a while," She gets up and dusts herself off, "I'll go check up on your sibling, you keep watch for me. Don't come too near, he's probably stressed as is."

She approaches his den and they see her quietly talking before she disappears inside. They keep watch as promised, though all of them are fidgety and uneasy, pacing and shifting around, trying to chat to pass the timd

After what feels like forever though one of them tells them to shut up for a moment and when they do they can hear very faint cries coming from the den

They wait with held breaths and eventually Adamas stalks out of the den holding bloodied bedding (to a group of nervous wyrms looking at her like 👁👁 👁👁 👁👁 👁👁 👁👁, almost makes her laugh)

"...so?"

"So what?"

"Dame, please-"

She snickers, "There's two."

They all seem excited, which makes her smile

"How are they?"

"Ebur is fine. One of the wyrmlings is strong, and the furstborn..." She trails off, swishing her tail, "They'll make it, if they survive this night."

The five visibly deflate at the news

"...Are they gonna...?"

"Only time will tell. Like I said, if they survive this night they should be okay. Don't repeat this to Ebur, though, they've had enough of hardships for one night," She turned to leave, "I'll go burry these sheets. You five, go hunt for your sibling and their young, they're going to need the strength. I'll look after them."

They hurry off, a hunt seems like a good opportunity to blow off some steam

When they return, Adamas shows them how to thinly mince the meat for the the newborns before she delivers the food to Ebur and his kids

That's pretty much the norm for the next few days, Adamas is the only one who he allows into the den so she updates the siblings on the situation and stays with him while they go hunting

The day after, after they made their hunt for the day and Adamas once again disappears into their sibling's den with the food, was probably the most stressful. The five waited for her for what seemed like eternity and immediately pounce on her for info like young wyrmlings the second she's out

"Won't you five calm your tails?! Your sibling and their young are fine."

"And the firstborn?"

"They're doing much better and seem strong. You can stop panicking."

Though they're less intense about this afterwards, everytime Adamas leaves the den she's met with five wyrms staring at her and eagerly awaiting any updates

"Do they have names yet?"

"Ebur said they did pick already, you'll learn them once you meet the younglings"

"UUUUGHHH"

"MAAAAN"

"Stop being dramatic, it's only a few more days"

The five also get an idea to make the twins little clothes so they can stay warm and cosy

They get to gift them to Ebur once they finally meet the little ones

One day, after nearly a week, Adamas leaves the den to see the five wyrms once again waiting on her and she sighs heavily before smiling

"Alright, who wants to meet the babies?"

And they all get SO excited, before she has to remind them to keep calm to not spook their sibling or his kids

They go into the den one by one, which is thankfully big enough for all of them, where Ebur is laying in the corner, curled up around two little sleepy boundless and purring to them

His siblings are just awe struck at the babies and coo to them, showering them and Ebur with so many compliments

"They look a little odd for wyrmlings though, don't they?"

Io proceeds to get very roughly jabbed in the side by Fossor

"Ow, what the hell?!"

"Don't be an ass. Obviously they're not full wyrms, idiot, they're going to look different."

Though none of them is yet to clock that they're half-root

They get the babies thick clothes so they can crawl outside the den (under incredibly strick supervision by all 7 of their family members) once they're big enough

"Ebur, quit grooming them! They won't combust into flames if they have a speck of dirt or snow on them!"

"Mrrrr"

Melpomene: So, how did you name them?

Ebur: The firstborn is Hallow and the second born is Amaryllis

Io: Hm, weird names for wyrms

Ebur: 💦💦💦

Fossor, readying to hit him again:

Hallow, crawling towards Io with intent to Bite:

Io: Ohhhh little lad on a mission, what will they do? Beware the big bad wyrm

Hallow: Grrrr

Io:*casually just rolls away*

Hallow, flopping down and looking at him offended before SCREAMING angrily to voice their displeasure at inability to bite and maim uncle: EEEAAAAAAAAA

Gonna crawl towards him with even more determination

Adustus: Snrk- Stop giving the poor kid a workout and let them bite you

Io: If they wanna bite me they should prove it by getting me the legitimate way

Adamas: that one has a strong set of lungs

Ebur: mhm

Ebur: ...Was I this loud at their age?

Adamas: Absolutely. The loudest

Ebur: .......oh

Adamas: yeah. oh. Little snot

Ebur: hey!

(Mean to him <3)

Just wait till they figure out the connection between Amaryllis and Amanita

Of course loverboy would name the baby after a flower LMAO

".....snrk"

"shut up. shut up. shut the fuck up. I dont wanna hear it. Shut your bitchass up."

Start teasing him that he is SO smitten and in love

None know just how right they are

He's gonna die or commit murder at this rate

Ebur being all "it's not like that, it's not like that" and then when he sees Amanita again they're all lovey dovey and cute

I think Adamas' group was in the groove for like 2 years so they did have time to develop a meaningful relationship, though it's still nothing compared to how they're gonna be in a few years KFBDJFH

Io: not like that my ass—

Ebur: Shut the fuck—

Amanita: :? Not like what my darling?

Adustus: he’s been swearing up and down it isn’t love and he hasn’t totally been courting you

Amanita, amused: aaaww my dear Ebur, so now you’re shy with your affections~?

Ebur, sputtering: Ami, please not in front of my family...

Ossum: AMI

Ebur: I BITE

Ossum: Yeah, I bet ~your Ami~ knows a thing or two about that, huh~?

Ebur: GRRRRR

Amanita, laughing a little: I haven’t heard you growl that loud since we first met my wyrm~!

Ossum: good gods y’all are nauseating

Adamas: Her wyrm, huh?

Ebur: NOT you too

Amanita, not helping as she nuzzles him: My wyrm~

She's having so much fun <3 He can't help but smile though

Ebur: You're...impossible, my darling

Amanita: 🥰

Adamas: So, how long have you been together?

Amanita: Officially? Only one year, but we've been courting for much longer than that~

Adamas: Oh, you're official hm? Ebur, you never told me you've found yourself a mate. Look at you growing up on me, my youngest wyrmling has a mate and children already

Ebur: My dame, please

Amanita: ....children?

Adamas: ... you didn't know?

Ebur: Hey i was suppose to surprise her with that dame!

Ebur: Plus, I only found out after I left, not like I could tell her I was-

Amanita, grabbing him: Darling, what's that about children?

Ebur: .... We have two my darling.

Amanita: We have children!?

Ebur: yes. Our...... time together has resulted in me becoming gravid. We have two healthy children

Amanita, shaking him: Show me!!

Ebur, laughing: Well, stop trying to give me whiplash and I will!

(They're so adorable it makes me sick <- Ebur's siblings probably)

Presents her with the two little guys with a big smile. Tells her their names and she kneels down to hold them both and nuzzle and give kisses and be so so emotionally happy about it

The rest of the family give them some privacy so they can have a proper reunion and Amanita can meet her children

She's so SO happy

Scoops all three of them up and nuzzles him, looks at them as if they're her whole world

"Oh, my darling, they're so beautiful, so perfect...I love them..." She whispers, her breath caught in her throat for a moment, "...I love you."

His heart skips a beat and he nuzzles in close and kisses her cheek, "I love you too..."

And the babies are gonna ruin the moment and squeaking in protest about being held <3

"ooohhh my little sprouts, I need to plant you in my den and watch you grow big and strong youre so precious~"

"wait like. Actually bury them??"

"A little yeah. They should be able to root I think"

"...hm!"

"...Unless they're more wyrm in that regard?"

"Well, they seemed to do just fine on meat, but there's no harm in trying other things. Maybe a combination will be best for them?"

"Oh dear..."

"Don't worry, my love, we'll figure it out together"

Theyre rowdy and like to run around and play

but for sleepy time they get to be buried in the dirt. Makes em giggle and keeps them warm

OH the convo between Adamas and his siblings in the meanwhile

Adustus: ...He's gonna leave, isn't he?

Adamas: Hm?

Adustus: I mean, with our group we can't stay anywhere for too long, especially in a small groove like this, we'd run out of prey. And a root wouldn't be able to keep up for long, they're stationary. And...I doubt he'd leave her, just look at them.

Adamas: ...He seems happy. It'd be good for the little ones to have both parents too.

Amanita, planting the babies for the first time:

Quercus, waking her up at ass o'clock after he sensed two new seedlings near her: 👀 👀 👀

Amanita: huh wh

Quercus: KIDS?? KIDS?? DO I HAVE GRANDKIDS PRINCESS???

Amanita: pfft. yes.

Amanita:

Amanita, internally: wait shit fuck

Quercus: oh hey that wyrm problem came back. Lemme drop by and see how my daughter is doing since im not busy

What a fucking reunion that would be huh

Adamas: I've heard you want to leave? Maybe you should come with us, then, it'd be easier for you

Amanita: Ah, but would you like to leave now? Because it's already almost the end of spring, I don't think it'd be a good idea for me to leave now, I might not survive winter if I'm not rooted down somewhere by autumn. We were planning to leave early next spring, if you'd like to live in my groove until then you're fully welcome to

Adamas: But what of your parent? Wouldn't they notice?

Amanita: It's alright, he didn't came by last time you were here for over two years, I'm sure it's fine now, he won't even notice 😊 (narrator voice he did notice)

"Hey sweetheart how are you.... doing...."

Amanita, with the family of wyrms just hanging out in her den: .......... Daaaadddddddd what a suuurrrppprriiissseee💦

Her just trying to cover up this fairly large family of wyrms

Adamas getting defensive when Quercus is questioning Amanita

Starts growling and pushes to the front of them

Quercus: Stay out of this, wyrm

Adamas: Like hell I am! I'm not letting you step all over my family or my daughter

Amanita: It's really not nece- daughter??? 🥺

Quercus: Daughter?!

Adamas: Yes, daughter, she's my child's partner so as much of a family to me as my own children!

Amanita's just trying so fucking hard not to get emotional and cry over this now

too bad Quercus is bristling at that

Amanita and Quercus are emotional over this but in completely opposite directions

Amanita has to get herself together to step between them before it ends in a fight

GOD. I AM SO EMOTIONAL OVER THIS. AMANITA BEING ACCEPTED INTO HIS WYRM FANILY AFTER THEY SEE HOW MUCH SHE AND EBUR LOVE EACH OTHER 🥺 SO CUTE

She gets to root in and do some wyrm watching with her tubers

Amanita, to the kids: look how silly your father can be. Look, watch

Amanita, wiggling a root:

Ebur: 👁️👁️

His siblings watching him paw at the root

Adustus: ...Dude...

Fossor: Good fates he's domesticated

Adamas: …… oh how the mighty fall

She always knows how to embarrass him in front of his family 🥰

Zooming through her roots to play while Adamas wonders how he inherited such weird quirks

Adamas: I should have judged my mates better, what is this...

Ossum: hey they're the only one Like That

Melp: yeah we’re normal about things

Ebur: Snrk- Yeah, just wait till you find your own mates

Io: I think you're just weird, actually

Ebur: At least I have a mate and children, you lonely ass

Amanita delights in how silly the tubers are. Truly the most delightful thing

Ebur's family think it's funny how the twins have been dubbed the tubers since they came here

But hey, it fits

I bet Amanita sometimes just casually steals her wyrm away

Just picks him up with her roots like "I'll be taking that~"

They're so lovely dovey it's nauseating

Even Adamas teases him about her swooping him off his feet

And he can't keep the smile off his face when he talks about her or hide the blush when they tease him so he really can't hide it

Ebur and the tubers also sleep in her den, keep in her tangle of roots.

The others can set up a den as they please

He at first set up a den near her instead of with her but it was literally abandoned on night one

It's his den in spirit

The second his siblings realise its been abandoned and how fast he's getting teased AGAIN

“Shouldve just saved the time and effort and not done that altogether.”

“I didn’t ask you”

Adamas: No, I bet they tried really hard to use that den but really couldn't help themself be apart from her, didn't you?

Ebur: ...grrrr

Adamas: Snrk, seems I got it right

Amanita: you made a separate den from me???

Adamas: case n point

Ebur: Ooooh, God forbid I want to sleep with my partner! You insufferable twats

Adamas: You’re such a fucking sap

Amanita: Oh but they're my sap~ And I think it's so cute~

Gets a collective "Bleh" out of them

The two looking over their tubers playing with Ebur's siblings

Amanita: Oh, these kids are great, I love them so much

Ebur: Mhm

Amanita: We should have more~

Ebur, sputtering: Amanita!

Io: HEY WE HEARD THAT YOU FUCKING WEIRDOS

Amanita: what? You didn’t think I was going to want just one clutch did you love?

Ebur: w-what—

Amanita, curling around him: I have an urge for my seeds to spread my wyrm~

Io, gagging:

Fossor: What the hell, you two

Ebur: Not- not in front of my family, my love...

Io: literally traumatizing. What is wrong with them both

The rest is pretty much just VERY half assed future stuff and this is long enough as is 😐 So like. Yeah.

#thylacines can talk #this. this is. so long. good fucking lord #faaf au #technically. it doesnt have a separate title but i think it deserves one. anyway behild one of my few nonsensical wyrmroot branches/aus #suggestive #for discussion of wyrm reproduction (nothing graphic) and PK's sibs being dicks. and. WL being a weirdo #its nothing graphic #crack knuckles okay now content warning jfc #trans pregnancy tw #(technically) #pregnancy tw #near infant death #childbirth tw #tokophobia tw #PLEASE i know this is the internet but PLEASE be normal about this please please #this took so long to compose if i get an error while uploading i will kill a man #my ocs #oc: adamas #oc: quercus #oc: adustus #oc: ossum #oc: fossor #oc: amaryllis/lullaby

[veloursdor]

based on this au where anakin died in childbirth and obi-wan is left alone to raise the twins, but he can't bear to be near the twins without breaking down because he misses anakin too much.

(1k words)

It was the first anniversary of Anakin's death and Obi-Wan couldn't force himself to get out of bed. The pain and heartache he still felt, even after 368 standard days apart from Anakin, made him unable to function properly on a normal day, let alone the anniversary of when he had lost the love of his life.

Faintly, he could hear the twins crying in their room, and Obi-Wan knew – at the back of his head – that he should’ve been caring for them, attending to their needs. 

Preparing their birthday party.

He even had a list of everything he needed to make it a very sweet party for the twins to look back on when they were older. Anakin had been so excited to be a parent, he had made so many plans for the twins, their milestones, their birthdays.

But Anakin was gone, and Obi-Wan was alone.

The twins continued crying as Obi-Wan contemplated the ceiling, the tears in his eyes at the misery he felt inside himself clouding his vision.

"Master Obi-Wan," 3P0's voice said from the hall, "Masters Luke and Leia need a diaper change and..."

R2's beeps interrupted whatever it was 3P0 wanted to say. Obi-Wan had never bothered to learn binary – unlike Anakin who had done his best to master the language before he mastered any other language the council expected of him, saying droids were as important as people –, so he hadn’t had the slightest idea what the astromech was saying to the protocol droid.

On a normal day, he would’ve cared.

But it wasn’t a normal day at all.

"Well, yes R2, but Master An..."

"*beep boop beep boop boop beep*"

"R2! Master Obi-Wan is trying his best!"

"Do it yourself, 3P0," Obi-Wan replied with a tired voice, unable to gather the strength to leave his bed. Anakin had been taken from him a year before. "You know how to."

He pushed the droids away from his door with a gentle push from the Force, covering himself up with the covers of his bed. He knew Anakin would want him to be there for the twins, celebrating their milestone of reaching one year of age.

But he couldn't muster the energy to face them.

The day passed him by in bed, and before he knew it, the moonlight was breaking through his window.

"Obi-Wan," Breha's voice said from above him, her tone harsh and judgemental as she took away from him the covers he was covering himself with. "This can't go on like this. I understand grieving your husband, but your children need you."

"Bail is still alive," he said, his voice as cold as his heart while he grabbed the blankets back. "You don't understand what it's like to miss the other half of you."

"Obi-Wan..."

"Luke and Leia are okay," he said, finally looking at Breha, who was staring at him with a frown on her face, her arms crossed above her chest. "C-3P0 and R2-D2..." make sure they have food and clothes "they help me with them."

Anakin had programed the droids with every child care program he could find - first aid, lullabies, nursery rhymes, Anakin had thought of anything and everything they could need - hoping to have his droids at the ready to help them out if he or Obi-Wan ever found some trouble or needed a little time for themselves.

"I appreciate you coming in to check on us," Obi-Wan said as he got out of bed, knowing his argument would fall in deaf ears if he was still in bed. "But you just caught us in a very bad day."

"Obi-Wan, your children..."

"Everything is fine, Breha," Obi-Wan said harshly, his tone curt. "My children have everything they need."

"Except their father! Obi-Wan you can't seriously believe..."

"Yes, Breha, they're missing their father because they...'' he said with force, the tears in his eyes finally falling, before cutting himself abruptly. No one should know what he truly thought of his children. "I'm trying my best here," he admitted, his face falling, "but it's not as easy as it seems."

"I know that, Obi-Wan," Breha said softly, her hand softly touching his arm. "Which is why Bail and I continue offering our house and time. We can look after Luke and Leia as long as you need, they'll be taken care of. Alderaan is a beautiful place where..."

But Obi-Wan stopped paying attention, as the idea of losing Luke and Leia - the last he had of Anakin - started ripping him apart from the inside. He couldn't lose his children, not even if they were the reason the love of his life was gone, forever ripped away from him.

"I appreciate the offer, Breha," Obi-Wan said with a forced smile as he started walking towards his door, softly guiding Breha who was still holding his arm, "but... Luke and Leia need to stay with the only parent they have left. Things will be better off tomorrow."

"Obi-Wan..."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to make a smash cake for the twins as Anakin wanted," he said, congratulating himself at the way his voice only halfway broke at the mention of Anakin. "Have a good night, my friend," he said before closing the door behind Breha, exhaling once he was alone.

3P0 and R2 were busy with the children, who were wearing the onesies Anakin had bought for them a little over a year ago while they played on the floor of the apartment. Obi-Wan felt his heart tear itself apart in half at the sight of the onesies, knowing Anakin had chosen them with all the love he had for the twins.

“We’re gonna be parents Obi-Wan! Isn’t that the best thing you’ve ever heard?”

But as he was approaching them, Luke looked up, freezing Obi-Wan in place. Anakin's eyes were staring back at him from the face of their son, and Obi-Wan couldn't stand a minute more looking at them in such a foreign face.

He walked back to his room, closing the room behind him.

There would be other birthdays.

But there would never be another Anakin Skywalker.

#obikin #anakin skywalker x obi-wan kenobi #anakin x obi-wan #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalkwer #tw: past mpreg #tw: death by childbirth mentioned #i need to name this au to tag it better #it has a name #widow-wan au #thanks angella-of-hell <3

[jomiddlemarch]

nothing that was without wings would escape

“I Owled Molly,” Hermione said, tossing the words over her shoulder while she fussed with the copper teakettle. It was better to have her back to him. She knew he’d never curse her from behind, no matter how incensed he was. She’d violated his explicit directive not to ask advice from Molly Weasley and she hadn’t wanted to make him address why exactly Molly was verboten, especially since Hermione was now mostly a Weasley hanger-on, the sister Harry wouldn’t do without, even if she and Ron had crumbled like an old tea-biscuit after six months of attempting a romance. 

“I told you not to,” Draco replied. His voice was low and he’d tried to purge all the frustrated anger from it because it was widely agreed that babies could sense emotion and they didn’t need another reason for Scorpius to cry.

“Desperate times,” Hermione said. “You know the rest.”

“I already asked my mother. And Andromeda,” Draco said, continuing to walk in a nearly symmetric oval path around the dimly lit kitchen, a brief jog to avoid the end of the oak refectory table he used for breakfast and that once upon a time, Hermione had had the most delightfully filthy fantasies about defiling with him. That had been pre-exposure to Scorpius or rather, pre-exposure to Scorpius’s colic.

(She would have felt worse about lusting after a recently widowed man, but he’d made it clear he and Astoria had had an arranged marriage that would have lasted a lifetime except that she’d insisted she wanted a baby, knowing her ancestral bloodcurse wouldn’t allow her to survive her labor. It had seemed a very rum deal to Hermione and she’d had to balance dislike with pity. Adding in sexual attraction wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back. It was just a straw.)

(After his son was born, Draco told her, just once, that Scorpius was worth it. All of it. She’d starting falling in love then. It didn’t seem like she’d ever hit the ground and not because she was a witch. She’d never gotten any better at broom-work.)

(She could get away with lengthy parentheticals because Draco was still trying, unsuccessfully, to get Scorpius to pipe down and was distracted. It was a double-edged sword, his distraction, but she was a Gryffindor and had been trained how to wield an enchanted goblin-wrought claymore if the situation called for it.)

“And your aunt and mother have raised three children between them, two Metamorphagi, from whom no significant data can be drawn because Metamorphagi don’t follow standard developmental guidelines and additionally Teddy’s father was a werewolf. Narcissa made no secret of the fact she relied on House-elves and nannies,” Hermione pointed out, arranging a pair of mugs for the tea she was brewing. The caffeine was irrelevant, as it seemed they were never going to sleep again. “Andromeda baked you a lemon sponge cake and your mother suggested you leave him and spend a few weeks in Antibes, getting some color, taking the yacht out for a spin. My parents would only have recommended you put him on Muggle meds for reflux and you’ve already ruled that out.”

“The Healers said it wasn’t reflux, that’s why,” Draco said. Scorpius was crying but it wasn’t full-voice. It seemed a certain degree of jiggling could keep him from his upper register. Fortunately, Draco had never given up Quidditch, so his upper body strength and stamina were adequate to the apparently endless task. If that mean he was fit, deliciously so, so be it.

“Do you want to hear what Molly said or do you want me to spike your tea with an ungodly amount of Firewhisky?” Hermione asked. She’d learned Draco did better when given a choice. Since becoming more than his Ministry colleague and not quite sure what category beyond friend he considered her, she tried to avoid overt manipulation and stuck with the more direct, Gryffindor approach that he expected from her.

“Tell me what the mother of nations said,” Draco replied, rolling his eyes. Scorpius howled suddenly and Hermione closed her own eyes for a moment.

“You don’t have to stay,” Draco said. He’d said it so many times, from the first night Hermione had heard Scorpius let loose, which was roughly six weeks after the crying had started and a fortnight since the Healers at St. Mungo’s had diagnosed colic maxifabulorum, the later onset incurable crying that Wizarding babies could contract, trying to soften the blow by mentioning the high correlation between the diagnosis and magical power. Narcissa had crowed over the news, focusing on the exceedingly small chance Scorpius would turn out to be a Squib, but it hadn’t done much for Draco who just wanted his baby son to stop crying and preferably sleep for a four-hour stretch. Astoria’s death in childbirth had been anticipated and prepared for, but becoming a widower and a single father was very difficult, made more so by the lack of sleep. Hermione suspected Draco had only agreed to let her come over the first time because he thought he was dreaming. It had been 4 pm and they’d been in her office at the Ministry, ostensibly reviewing a brief. He’d looked like hell and she’d spoken before she thought twice about it.

Once she’d heard Scorpius at full volume, she’d known she’d made the right decision.

“I’m staying,” she said. She’d learned she didn’t need to argue with him about it, but he needed the reassurance in her voice that she would, if he kept pestering her about it. “Molly said there aren’t any spells for colic in magical infants.”

Molly had actually written that there weren’t any spells that weren’t terribly Dark, but Hermione judged it was wisest to give Draco the highlights of the letter and not stir up any of the trauma of his history as a Death-eater and her own torture by his Death-eater Vantablack-incarnated-into-a-witch aunt. She planned to leave out Molly’s offer to send along a proper cottage pie and a jam tart as she was well-aware that Hermione didn’t like spending too much time in the kitchen. The usual invitation to Sunday lunch was also destined for the metaphorical scrap heap.

“Was that all?” Draco asked. He was now into the patting-Scorpius-on-the-back portion of the walk. It hadn’t made an appreciable difference to date, but he wasn’t ready to give up on it. His hand always looked enormous on Scorpius’s back. Enormous and incredibly gentle.

“She said potions were dicey and it was best to Transfigure some earplugs for ourselves. Arthur added a post-script, said his Great-Aunt Frederuna swore by spirits rubbed onto the gums, preferably gin though rum or whisky would do in a pinch,” Hermione said. She’d poured out two mugs of tea and doctored them up to their respective requirements; Draco preferred enough sugar to make it almost a syrup but couldn’t bear Hermione’s own milky cup. 

“I’m not getting my baby drunk,” Draco said as she’d known he would.

“It does seem like poor parenting,” Hermione agreed. “Not that I’d judge you for being tempted.”

“That’s not what tempts me,” Draco muttered. Hermione felt herself get very still and reminded herself that nothing…untoward was going to happen with Scorpius hollering as if he were being baby-Crucioed, despite the fact that both she and Draco were in dishabille compared to their formal work robes and suits. Draco was barefoot and though she wasn’t about to advertise it, Hermione had Flooed over without a bra under her old jumper from her father’s schooldays at the University of Glasgow. Nothing was going to happen because Scorpius was screaming bloody murder and Draco looked like he was about to keel over.

“Sit down. I’ll Transfigure a rocking chair. The walking isn’t quieting him down and you’re exhausted,” she said in a rush.

“Maybe if Astoria were here,” Draco said, breaking off.

“He’s not crying for his mother,” Hermione replied softly. “He knows he’s loved. You make him know that, you show him. It’s only colic—”

She wandlessly Transfigured a stool into a maple rocking chair with a high back and managed to add a velvet cushion from the dishtowel slung over her shoulder. Wandless Transfiguration was tricky but using a similar piece of furniture helped. Draco gave her a look as he walked over and sat down, a look that said he appreciated just how gifted she was though he wouldn’t make her uncomfortable by commenting that in the entire UK, only Minerva McGonagall could have bettered her work. He sat down and adjusted Scorpius on his shoulder, his palm cupping the back of Scorpius’s head.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he said, just above a whisper.

“Oh,” Hermione said, startled, the mugs in her hands unsteady. Or perhaps her hands were unsteady and the mugs nearly full. It was some small miracle that the tea didn’t slop over the rims and burn her.

“I didn’t mean—” Draco said, stopped himself. Scorpius took a long breath, almost like a sigh, and then didn’t immediately shriek. Draco looked at Hermione and his grey eyes were bright and warm, amused and hopeful and tender. “That is, I didn’t but I find, rather, Hermione, that I do.”

Tagging @ficwip for Hey Sweetheart 2024!

#dramione #valentine's day #fluff #hey sweetheart #babyfic #tw: colic #tw: death in childbirth #hermione x draco #scorpius malfoy #epilogue what epilogue #family feels #romance #non-sexual intimacy #andromeda black #narcissi malfoy #post-hogwarts #molly weasley #astoria greengrass #prior astoria/draco

[skylarsblue]

✦New Life from Old Battlegrounds✦

(SoapGhost Content based purely on a piece of fanart by a Twitter mutual. Will I make more than one chapter? Perhaps) ✧TW; References to past abuse(Simon), implied death during childbirth(Simon), reference to a domestic dispute(Johnny) ✧Fluff, Mild Angst, Single Dad!AU✧

★Link to Ao3 Ver : ★Link to fanart that inspired it

✧Meeting✧

John hummed to himself as he walked down the street, dodging people passing him and contemplating what to make for dinner. At the same time, he noted the things around him, thoughts bouncing from subject to subject as it always did. His mother used to joke that if he didn’t learn to contain his thoughts, one day, his brain would be sick of being in his skull and it’d escape. Bounce all over the room like he did. He gave a quick snort at the memory, making a quick note that he’d need to call her again, since it’d been about a week since he’d spoken to her last. It was still very odd being far from her. It’d been such a change from his original plan as a teen, though, he supposed his entire life at that point was far from his young plans for his life.

For starters, he’d been certain he’d be more in the military for longer than he was. He wasn’t completely free from government work, but he wasn’t a constant on-call soldier anymore either. Most of his job was paperwork now. Was it his preferred job? Admittedly, no. He often missed the days on base, the training, the adrenaline rush of battle. Not that he liked to complain, he had it good regardless, he felt so anyway. He’d always been the optimistic type. The way his job was now kept him home more, it was safer, the pay was good, and it was honestly nice to have access to food outside of MREs. He most certainly did not miss the MREs. While his teenage self, and himself in his younger twenties, flourished in the aggressive environment of war, he couldn’t keep that life. Thanks to another curveball from the universe.

John had never considered himself to be fitting of the definition “playboy”, though some of his extended family and exes disagreed. He had no issue with being tied down, though it always seemed it never lasted very long. Be it due to personal differences or the way the military kept him away. He always did his best to be a good partner, not perfect, but good. Still, the longest committed relationship he’d had lasted about two years and a couple months, and that had been when he was fresh out of his teens. All the poor experiences and seeming inability to keep a partner, he didn’t fear the prospect at all. He still looked forward to having a partner permanently one day, getting settled down and such. But that didn’t stop him from casual fun either. He never saw any reason why two adults couldn’t have fun for a night, and leave it there. The problem was really the risk that came with that kind of fun, specifically when his partner had the biological equipment for pregnancy. He’d had one scare when he was sixteen, but that also turned out to be his first experience with a cheating partner. Aside from that, he skated through his pleasureful escapades without problems. He was clean and childless.

Until he wasn’t.

He’d gotten a little too cocky with an apartment neighbor turned casual fuck-buddy, and he came home from a mission to a rather pissed off expression on her face and a DNA test in her hand. It wasn’t ideal by any means, both had agreed on that. It scared him to all death. But his mother had carried many children, and his father sunk in the lesson that it was a woman’s choice completely. He wasn’t carrying anything, his body wouldn’t be changing, so he left the decision up to her. She wasn’t happy with the reality but a heavily religious upbringing made the idea of an abortion out of her options, even if she was rebelling from the eye of God. He’d only nodded when she had said the thought of getting one made her sick. At first, the plan was to try at an actual relationship. They liked each other enough to have sex, he made her laugh plenty, she had a lot of sweet qualities John admired. But by the eighth month, whether it was hormones or the reality of a child weighing heavy on her mind, she’d turned into quite the she-beast, to put it lightly. To the point Johnny sported a new scar on the palm of his hand from a lamp being thrown at his skull.

It became very apparent a relationship wouldn’t work. However, John also couldn’t shake the attachment he’d grown to the child he’d helped create. The last month of her pregnancy was hell on his psyche, but he stuck it out in the hope he’d get to see the baby, even if he’d have to fight it out in a court. Something his eldest sister, Edith, promised to help him with, should it be messy. Thankfully for him, however, the mother really hadn’t been too keen on staying that way. It admittedly stung when she’d responded so poorly after delivering the child, even the nurse winced at her coldness. John got one hundred percent of the parental rights, however, without a court case or a fight. Even if the prospect of being a single father scared him halfway into an early grave. He had many nights where he stayed up on the phone with either his mother or his sister, needing both advice and pep talks. And he still held a pill of guilt from the one night he considered giving his new daughter up for adoption, truly worried he wasn’t cut out for it.

Though, much to the joy of his current self, he’d stuck it out. He had to change and sacrifice a lot, and every now and then, he had the wonder of what would’ve happened had he not taken responsibility. But the thought was often rocketed out of his brain by the simple image of his daughter’s excited face when he came to pick her up from school. A very small, old building, situated in Leek, England. When the baby had just been born and the situation was still fresh, he wanted to give the woman who’d given birth to his daughter to change her mind. So he’d stayed in England, albeit a completely different town. He wasn’t so open to the idea now that he’d raised her, but the town had charmed him, and he wasn’t hugely fond of the concept of taking his daughter out of her hometown. Even if he missed Scotland often. Though he did everything he could to ensure his daughter wouldn’t end up with an English accent. Had it taken a decent chunk of money to get a cable package that included Scottish channels with Scottish cartoons? Yes. Did he regret it? Not at all. Visiting his family for holidays also helped. His daughter, named Maisie, was very fond of her visits to the country. Part of him hoped it could set up for her being open to moving there when she was older, though he didn’t cling to that idea very tightly. He had plenty of time before her teen years. Or, at least he told himself that, even if she turned five at the speed of light. Much like his second oldest sister, Davina, warned him.

John jogged when he spotted the school just ahead. He occasionally drove the distance, but it often wasn’t worth the gas it wasted, not when he could walk the distance with ease. Children filed out to their parents, the sound of little laughter never failed to make John grin. He’d always loved kids, even before being a parent to one. Likely because of the large family he came from. After all, he was the fifth kid born out of seven. His mother was a triplet, and his father had six sisters. The family events were more like circuses with the amount of kids. Sometimes it was hard to get any attention at all. It didn’t affect his adoration for his bloodline though…excluding the occasional prick of an aunt or step-uncle. 

The blue-eyed man walked up to the school, whistling a tune as his hands came to rest on his jean-clad hips. It was warm for once, without a layer of overcast in the sky. John tapped the rhythm of a song stuck in his head on this hip, eyes scanning through kids, parents, and teachers. Stopping once to give an awkward nod and strained smile to a mom he’d met at a school event once. He averted his eyes quickly however. Not to throw a woman under the bus, but John wasn’t too fond of her less-than-subtle flirting she’d chuck his way whenever he went to an event for his daughter. He hadn’t dated since Maisie’s mother, for his own sake and hers. And even if that wasn’t a factor, he was about ninety-nine percent sure the woman was married. John was a lot of things, but a homewrecker certainly wasn’t one.

His brain flicked back on when he heard a familiar little voice shout a goodbye. With a genuine grin this time, John turned and spotted his little girl waving to someone. He let out a sharp whistle, something he’d picked up from when his father owned horses. Quickly, Maisie turned and searched for her father, breaking out into a look of pure joy. Little Mary-Janes clacked on the stone as she sprinted to him. John crouched down and held open his arms, ready to receive. As soon as she reached him, he hoisted her up high with a laugh, reveling in her joyous giggle. He brought her down and set her on his hip, supported by his arm.

“Didn’t you have a bow in yer hair when I sent ya here?” John questioned, and Maisie looked away. “Uhhh noooo?” She lied, making him snort. “Ya lil’ bugger, you yelled at me all mornin’ for not tying it right!” He playfully scolded, making her laugh as he pinched at her side, having her curl away from the ticklish feeling. “I kept the piggies in though!” Maisie retorted, touching the tiny brunette pigtails in her hair. They were a bit messy now, but to her word, they were intact. John sighed with a head shake. “‘Suppose you got a point there. Where’d the ribbon go then?” He asked, subconsciously taking her rucksack when she took it off and held it away from her.

With the pink strap over his shoulder, looking hilariously small against his frame, he watched her eyes grow with excitement. “I gave it to my new friend! I tied it around her wrist and told her to wear it until I could make her a bracelet.” The little girl explained proudly. The ex-soldier tilted his head with a little chuckle. “A bracelet huh? For a new friend? You must like her a lot. That’s a high honor, lass.” He commented. Maisie bobbed her head aggressively, showing she agreed quite intensely. “She’s my best friend now. She’s new to town too! She said she lived in Manchester before, but her dad didn’t like the school she was in, so they came here.” 

John hummed with a quick nod, showing he was listening. He adjusted her on his hip and opened his mouth to speak, ready to suggest a treat before they went home, seeing as how it was such a nice day out. But he paused when his gaze caught on a figure near the front of the school. There wasn’t really anything amiss at first. Just another parent picking up their child it seemed, based on the little blonde girl that was being cautiously lifted off the ground. But it was Maisie’s outburst that made his eyes stick. She pointed with a smile. “That’s my friend! Her name is Ellie!” The information barely registered as John took in the stranger.

Tall, broad, with an aura he’d only attributed to an animal before. A doberman-like intimidating energy. Dressed in almost all black with a black surgical mask across the lower half of his face. An image of intensity only broken by the soft, chubby features of Maisie’s new friend. Round and rosy cheeks with big eyes. John couldn’t look away from the man’s face though, noting a noticeable scar that ran to the stranger’s temple, barely clipping the end of his eyebrow and leaving a subtle indent in the short blond hair at his temple. Just as John was about to force his eyes away, the man turned slightly, and their gazes locked. Cliche and beyond cheesy, but John was suddenly stunned by just how pretty this man's eyes were. Instead of holding the borderline scary aura the rest of him did, they held a gentleness. Light eyelashes in contrast to cinnamon brown. There was a purple tint under the man’s eyes, adding to the naturally tired slope of his eye shape. John always liked eyes, he always found them his favorite thing to look at on people’s faces. Although here, he was suddenly very acutely aware that he had been straight up deadpan staring at a man he didn’t know for God knows how long. The man also clearly noticed, given the uncomfortable shift in his shoulders and the almost anxious glance away, only to connect back with John’s eyes. Obviously, double checking if he was meaning to stare at him. Thankfully, Maisie’s voice helped break John’s train of thought and pull him from his own head.

“Can Ellie come over?” Maisie questioned. “Huh? Oh, uh. We would need to ask her pa, bò.” Her father stammered a bit, looking down at her, although he was certain he could feel the other man’s stare still on him. Internally, he worried he’d already sealed in a bad impression. There was nothing more awkward than accidentally staring at a stranger for seemingly no reason, and then getting caught. “Well he’s over there, let’s go ask!” Maisie tugged at the collar of John’s shirt. He sighed quietly and took a second to prepare how he’d manage that. He debated if he should open with his name or just boldly state an apology. When he decided he’d figure it out once in front of the man, he took in a breath and readied himself to charm his way out of the awkward tension he’d just built.

However, when he looked up, fully prepared to walk toward the man, he was startled by the masked stranger being suddenly closer. A safe distance away but close enough for a conversation. Maisie didn’t miss a beat, waving happily at Ellie who returned the gesture albeit with less enthusiasm. John blinked before he coughed, rolling his shoulders and smiling. Needing to look up was something new. He wasn’t short by any means, and he’d met plenty of tall people, but there was something about the rest of his man’s energy that made his height seem all the more intense. “Afternoon, ‘m John, Maisie’s dad. Uh…sorry about the staring. Wasn’t intentional, was meant to be more of a glance and I forgot to move my eyes.” The Scot said with far less grace than he’d hoped for, he was even using his hand to talk, a habit he always had but that often worsened when he was nervous. The man blinked slowly at him before holding out a hand, which John noted was gloved, despite the warm weather. The gloves had bone detailing on them. 

“Simon.” Ellie’s father answered through a gravelly voice and thick accent. John silently hoped his relief wasn’t too visible as he reached to shake the extended hand, shoulders less tense. “Pleasure to meet’cha, Simon.” He said genuinely, letting his hand come to rest on the strap of Maisie’s bag. He inhaled to speak again, only for his daughter to cut in. “Can Ellie come over to play?” She asked quite loudly. John sighed and patted her on the arm. “It’s “may”, lass. Also say please, and don’t interrupt.” He said, voice soft as he reminded her. Though his tone was gentle, she straightened her back and quickly addressed him with an apology before looking back at Simon. “I’m sorry. May Ellie come over to play, please?” She asked, slower this time. Simon hummed and shifted his weight a bit. He looked down at his daughter, asking silently for her opinion. Ellie nodded with a shy grin. Simon looked to John again. “I’m not too keen on her being at stranger’s houses.” He said calmly. His blunt tone made Maisie deflate, taking it as a complete no. John did as well, but he was quick to offer a solution. “Well that’s alright. There’s a park near a shopping center nearby, Maisie goes there every weekend. If you have the time, maybe we could meet there instead. Let the girls play without havin’ to be at one of our houses.” 

Simon tilted his head back down to his daughter once more, Ellie nodded up at him again, this time her eyes wider and her head shook more intently. “That’ll do.” Simon replied calmly. Maisie perked up again, swinging her legs with excitement as John gained a smile of his own. He struggled to bring out his phone and unlock it with only one hand. Simon rose an eyebrow curiously until the brunet held out his phone, open to a new contact page. “We can work out the details whenever ya have a second.” John explained. Simon took the device carefully. He adjusted Ellie so she could wrap her short arms around his neck. John bit back a snicker when the little girl hung from her father’s neck, allowing him to have both hands free. With the freedom, he slipped off a glove so he could type in his number and his first name into the contact. Once it was done, he handed the phone back and let Ellie rest back on his arm.

“Alright then! That’s solved, just let me know when you get an opening in your schedule.” John nodded. Maisie was silently climbing up his form to get on his shoulders, something he adjusted to seamlessly while keeping Simon’s gaze. His legs turned and ready to leave. Simon tilted his head subtly. “What ‘bout your schedule?” He questioned lightheartedly. John chuckled. With one hand holding Maisie’s ankle, he gently bumped Simon’s shoulder with his fist. “I’ll save you a spot, sir.” He said cheerfully. Simon blinked and followed the Scot with his shocked eyes as John started to walk away. Maisie waved to Ellie and shouted a loud goodbye. Simon could feel the gentle touch through the fabric of his jumper long after it was gone, and it stunned him a bit. He blinked before sighing. “Bloody hell…” He mumbled before turning to walk in the opposite direction, keeping his daughter tucked in his arm. . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Simon bounced his leg as the train shook on the tracks. He kept his gaze either in his lap or out the window, although acutely aware of his surroundings. He always was very observant, no matter where he went. He knew there were a total of twelve other people in his cab and he’d clocked one as an alcoholic off the bat. Spotting a hidden brown bag in the suited man’s bag, amongst various business documents and folders. The pristine suit and silk tie meant nothing. Simon was sure to sit furthest from that stranger, even if he’d been occupied with a meeting on his laptop. It wasn’t his business and he didn’t care to hear the stranger’s sob story, he didn’t really care. The detail-oriented system his brain operated under was built from training.

Simon needed to spot subtle dangers, it was the only reason he was alive to see anything at all. If his childhood strife wasn’t enough to train his subconscious on how to spot the incoming dangers before they occurred, allowing him time to prepare for the fallout or prevent the situation entirely. The years he spent in the SAS certainly did. If anything escaped his line of sight, people would be dead, his own life included. All it took was a single blindspot taken advantage of to send blood splattering to the ground. He’d seen it, he’d caused it. It wasn’t something to take lightly and it was a habit he knew he’d never get rid of. Not that it was a bad skill to have, it kept him alive, although there were days he yearned for a life more peaceful. 

He’d never been free from pain or trauma, if he wanted that, he’d have to reincarnate completely. Something he doubted God, if the being even existed, would be willing to give him. His father’s torment, however the most damaging on his mind when at its most malleable, seemed like the least of his mental struggles. Even if he still had nightmares where the feeling of a reptile’s dangerous and scaled lips touched his own. They paled in comparison to other images that would keep him up at night. The feeling of unwanted hands or the scent of earth mixed with a body’s decaying organs were by far the worst ones, though even those had gotten better. Mostly with time. They weren’t as frequent, thankfully. He had more recent agonies, ones that still stung like fresh. The loss of his entire family but the one man he’d disowned weighed on him heavily, the bruising ache of betrayals from people he considered friends. All these things only kept at bay from keeping himself busy, or, when they were at their worst, an uncharacteristically vulnerable discussion with his coworker and past superior. But all these things were years in the past. His most recent internal gash was only five years behind him, and while he’d begun to walk away from it, he still felt it burn under his skin.

Simon very rarely got close to anyone. Every time he did, it seemed they either died, grew to hate him, eventually betrayed him, or merely vanished. Sometimes he’d ask himself what he’d done to deserve it, occasionally he’d brood in a fit of emotional anger over what those who’d wronged him had done. Usually though, he’d bared with it, even expected it. Every individual he met, he readied himself for something to go wrong. It hadn’t been any different when he’d accidentally bumped into a woman at a library, almost knocking the poor thing over. He was exhausted and a bit woozy from some pain meds he’d been prescribed, thanks to a bullet wound that knocked him in his lower ribs.

She’d been nothing but benevolent, and to call her anything but beautiful would’ve been a crime. Simon had a brand new urge when she’d smiled at him, the urge to run, sprint as far as possible. Her dimpled cheeks, wavy & glowing honey-blonde hair, and kindhearted eyes squeezed the oxygen from his lungs, almost taking out his knees. She even helped him find a book he’d actually enjoy, which he did. It would’ve been bad enough with that one encounter, but then he bumped into her again in a cafe. This time, it was her who knocked into him, promptly covering his hoodie in tea, much to her horror. Simon felt nauseous when his heart stuttered, watching her apologize frantically and ask if he was okay, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, even when he assured her it was fine.

It was the third time, at a pub, that he learned her name. It was also that time that she’d graced him with her number. He didn’t contact her for a month. Even in the current day, he wasn’t sure what prompted him to call her. His apartment had just been so quiet, the rain so loud, and his heart heavy. Something about her sleep-addled voice must’ve flicked a hidden switch in his brain, because that phone call spurred a relationship. Not a whirlwind romance like in the movies by any means. He didn’t know how to treat her, and he pulled away from her frequently. She’d broken down in tears once when he’d gone a month avoiding her, having assumed she’d done something wrong. That night had ended with him held tightly to her body, earning a kiss with more emotion than he thought he was capable of.

It was the longest relationship he’d had. Technically speaking, given he didn’t really count the on & off situationship he’d battled with from the ages of fourteen to sixteen. All that had done was tell him he wasn’t straight, he hated disco music, and he wasn’t fond of the constant anxiety of his father’s heavy hand over a relationship that wasn’t even exclusive. It also was the kindest relationship he’d had, perhaps even on a platonic level. He could never wrap his head around how someone so gentle could exist. How a voice could feel like a blanket’s warmth on shivering skin, how a touch could feel so safe, or how perfume could be so intoxicating. He’d been so disarmed so fast it baffled him.

He’d known her for four months, dated her for two, and admitted he loved her the entire time on the third month. Coincidentally, the same month she’d shyly placed a positive pregnancy test in his hand. She’d been terrified to tell him, clearly. Probably because he’d been very avoidant on the topic of family, while she’d mentioned her dream of motherhood early on. Simon almost ran again, he’d gotten on a bus in the middle of the night when she’d gone to sleep. He wasn’t sure where, it was his apartment she was sleeping in. He was never sure how he’d ended up at the cemetery his mother was buried in, but it shocked him into going back home. His father was a stain on his DNA, a coward and a bastard. He already resembled the man, the last thing he needed to do was fall into the pit of spineless decisions the man had.

It didn’t scare him any less. Even when the idea of being responsible for a newborn had begun to lighten up, the worry something bad would happen only got heavier. He prayed for it to be paranoia as her stomach grew. He’d even asked whatever god that would listen to put the weight of anything awful to fall on himself, not her or the baby. And he cursed whatever God existed when her water broke far too early, and when it sent the sweetest woman he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting into utter agony. He always hated hospitals, and that hatred worsened when he had to carry her into the ER. He’d paced for hours. There was a risk of losing the baby, something that made his stomach twist. There was a risk of losing her, something that made his chest tighten. There was a risk of losing both, something that actually made him vomit in a trashcan near the waiting room. He couldn’t decide which was worse. 

Simon didn’t get to decide either. He’d been handed a tiny, fragile baby girl swaddled in blankets. She was beautiful, but the moment wasn’t sweet. When he made eye contact with the nurse, the woman’s face said enough, and for the first time in a long time, Simon sobbed. Enough for his entire body to shake. His coworker had to hold him that night, it was the only way to keep him together. “I’m sorry, Simon.” was all the bearded man could say, in a voice gruff from years of ordering soldiers and smoking, but filled with genuine heartache for the man broken once again.

His daughter, Ellie, came out fine. She was small and fragile, sure, but alive. Simon had to ask his friend if babies ever remembered their newborn phase, purely in fear that his child would remember him crying while keeping her swaddled up on his chest. He couldn’t even use the nursery he’d help make, he moved the crib into his room, right by his bed. Though, for the first month he didn’t even use it. He slept with the newborn on his chest, hands rested on her small form, just to make sure she wouldn’t vanish. He even became on a first name basis with the pediatrician because he visited so often, constantly burning with anxiety. The doctor told him to go to his own care physician and get a prescription for Xanax, lest he collapse from the stress. Having such a dramatic change wasn’t good for his health. His friend took it upon himself to make everything as easy for Simon as physically possible. From a shift in careers to watching the baby so Simon could finally sleep, even if he needed a mountain of melatonin to do it. 

He pulled himself together. Even if the time he’d spent with the angel he’d met at the library was cut short, something he somehow managed to blame himself for, up until his daughter Ellie was three. She was the spitting image of himself aside from two things, two things he treasured about her the most. In her brown eyes, the left held a split of color, bright green, the color her mother had. The other feature was a singular mole on her tiny shoulder, just adjacent to her neck, exactly where her mother had one. He always found himself softening when he was reminded of these two tiny details about his child. Even if Ellie didn’t truly understand why. It seemed the features she favored about herself were the ones that she shared with her father. Something Simon managed to find a bittersweetness in. 

He’d been so hesitant to send her to school when she became the right age. To the point he started her on half days, to get her acclimated slowly, but admittedly more for himself. It was fine at first. She had the occasional bad day, but she always attributed it to loud noises or lots of stimuli. It was when she turned four that she started coming home and telling him about the occasional mean comment. It wasn’t too bad, in her words. But the day he was called to pick her up because she was brought into a hysterical meltdown, a combination of some kids teasing her and a substitute teacher’s rough handling of her emotions, Simon had just about lost it. If looks could kill, his eyes would’ve been the equivalent of an air strike. He’d been ready to tear the old woman’s head off, and he’d never been closer to kicking actual children into the sun than that moment. 

The school had a habit of not helping when kids were bullied, and when Simon really looked at it, he realized the environment Ellie was always in. His apartment was cramped and dark, not to mention old. His downstairs neighbor was always yelling at his roommates, the upstairs one was a drunk, and the old lady across the hall never failed to make a comment when she caught Simon in the lift. The traffic was hell and the closest park needed a train to get to, since he didn’t like to drive. He had plenty of money saved, and when he asked Ellie if she would miss anything, her only answer was the birds that nested in one of the windows. 

So, he found a small home, packed everything, and took Ellie out of Manchester. He liked the ability to add more security immediately. No longer relying on a lazy landlord and a chain lock. He could secure every window and door and install a proper security system. Ellie was most fond of the dogs she’d seen being walked in the neighborhood, as well as the large window seat her new room had. The only one who knew about the address change was Simon’s coworker, the only one with a spare key too. In case of an emergency. He’d waited a full month before enrolling his daughter in school again, and he honestly would’ve waited longer, had Ellie not complained about the cabin fever. 

It was fairly close, but just a bit too far to walk to, hence why Simon took the train. The bus was also an option, but it was far too crowded for his liking when he’d seen the stop. He adjusted his mask when walking from the station to the school, the hand in his hoodie pocket held a small back of sweets. Something he grabbed for Ellie as a prize for going to her new school. He silently missed his balaclava. He would’ve worn it if Ellie didn’t remind him other kids would probably be scared of it, and he was intimidating enough on his own. As usual, he scanned the area as he approached. Counting every child and adult he could see. He slowed to a stop on the sidewalk, waiting patiently to see a head of blonde tresses tied in a bun with a white scrunchy, one with little ghosts on it. She’d begged for it when she saw it, and it was easy to pick out of a crowd. He relaxed when she came into sight, noting how she waved at a little brunette girl that ran away. 

Ellie walked to him briskly. Simon zeroed in on a red ribbon tied loosely around her right arm in an uneven bow. “Hi daddy.” Ellie said softly as she reached him. “Hi, squeaker. How was your first day?” He asked. He bent to pick her up when she raised her arms. “Good. I didn’t talk to many kids, but there was this one girl who was really nice.” She explained, then held up her ribbon-decorated arm. “She gave me her hair bow, said it was a placeholder until she could make me a bracelet. Her name’s Maisie, but the others called her MayMay.” Simon hummed in acknowledgment, face softening as she described it with a smile. It’d been the first time another kid had made an effort to befriend her, something that brought Simon a lot of relief. “So, I assume you had fun then?” He asked.

Ellie nodded again. “She taught me Scottish words. Her dad’s Scottish, she said.” Simon listened and nodded. He turned, ready to head to the train station again. He only stopped when he felt the shiver up his spine, a sixth sense he developed when in the sights of a sniper. He even looked at the builds first, checking the roofs. It was only when he looked ahead of himself that he saw who was staring. A brunet stranger with blue eyes and a messy mohawk. Simon blinked as the man gazed at him, noting the little girl in his arms. He looked around at his sides. Maybe the stranger was looking past him? No, no he was certainly staring at him. 

Simon felt Ellie tap him. “It’s okay, daddy. That’s MayMay, that man’s her dad.” She whispered. He looked at the man once more, seeing him now distracted by Maisie. He sighed slowly and looked at Ellie. “You want me to say hello, don’t you.” It was less a question, since he knew the answer, and more a statement. Reaffirmed by Ellie’s gentle nod. Simon let out a defeated sigh, and his daughter patted his shoulder in sympathy. She was well aware of her father’s introversion. Still, Simon walked up, though not too close. He could hear the little girl’s accent, mostly Scottish with a British twang of sorts. Maisie’s father let out a sigh and looked up, though clearly startled by Simon’s now closer proximity. A few seconds passed as the man took Simon’s form in, before he coughed and introduced himself, quickly followed by an awkward apology.

The man’s shoulders were tense, that was the first thing Simon noticed. He also noticed a scar on his chin, and along his right eye. And, a bit shamefully, he noted how tightly the man’s shirt hugged his well-built chest and arms. Simon wasn’t one to gawk but even he had to admit those biceps were impressive. He blinked, then held out his hand. “Simon.” He stated calmly. John relaxed and shook his hand. He looked ready to say something before Maisie cut him off, too caught up in her own excitement to remember manners. “Can Ellie come over to play?” She exclaimed. Ellie smiled at the enthusiasm and Simon could hear her stifled giggle.

John’s voice was gentle when he corrected his daughter, and Simon admired how Maisie immediately responded. Maisie asked again, and while Simon wouldn’t have any problem saying yes, he wasn’t going to agree without his daughter’s confirmation. He never liked the idea of forcing her to do anything she didn’t want to, if unnecessary. But she nodded when he looked down at her. He paused. The idea of letting his daughter go to a stranger’s house made anxiety pump into his veins, and while this man seemed nice, he didn’t want to give out his address. “ “I’m not too keen on her being at stranger’s houses.” He admitted. Honestly, he felt a pang of guilt when John’s daughter deflated. John seemed to as well, if only for a second, Simon caught the look akin to a dejected puppy. Really, the man had serious puppy eyes.

John bounced back quickly though, grinning once more with white teeth and a sparkle in his eye. …or maybe that was just the sun. Yeah, just the sun. “Well that’s alright. There’s a park near a shopping center nearby, Maisie goes there every weekend. If you have the time, maybe we could meet there instead. Let the girls play without havin’ to be at one of our houses.” The Scot suggested. Simon glanced at Ellie again, her nod was intense. He exhaled, she wanted to see the park anyway, better to do it with someone she was friends with. He remembered going to the park alone, it was not a fun experience. “That’ll do.” He answered, following the movement of John struggling to pull his phone out, and he was admittedly confused at first when it was held out to him.

Simon looked at the cracked screen protector as a new contact page stared back at him. John said something about working out the details. Simon bit back his apprehension and took the phone, adjusting Ellie. A silent code they developed, one of many, when he needed both his hands free for a moment. She secured herself around his neck and he let her hang off him so he could take off a glove. He tapped in his number and his name, all in lowercase. John’s grin was sunshine bright as he took the device back. Simon wondered if his cheeks hurt at this point while Ellie settled back on his arm. Maisie climbed over her father, something the man seemed unphased by, helping her adjust to be on his shoulders. “Alright then! That’s solved, just let me know when you get an opening in your schedule.” John said cheerfully. The longer he spoke, the more Simon could see this man spiritually being a dog. Probably a terrier of some kind. He was way too happy. Though, really, it was an endearing quality. Certainly more pleasant than the bitter old lady across the hall.

Simon had the faintest of smiles behind his mask as he jokingly asked the man about his own schedule, seeing him ready to leave. John chuckled and gently connected his fist to Simon’s shoulder. “I’ll save you a spot, sir.” He said. Fire radiated over the blond’s skin from where John had tapped him, and he felt the air suddenly vanish from his lungs, leaving him stunned. Even after John began to leave. “Bye-bye, Ellie!” Maisie shouted back, making the little girl wave back. Simon swallowed as the urge to high tail it back home filled his nerves. He pushed it down, not for the sake of seeming brave, but quite the opposite. He wasn’t going to feel that way again, he refused. Not so soon. But as he turned to leave, and he settled on the memory of a puppy-eyed gaze and bold grin, he was worried. Very worried.

"Bloody hell.” He whispered, hugging Ellie closer. The little girl rested her head on his shoulder, eyes shut. He let himself exhale a puff of anxious breath, feeling himself settle at the sight of her peaceful form. He’d be fine. They’d be fine.

#tw ptsd #tw past abuse #tw death during childbirth #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #soap call of duty #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #simon riley #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #single dad au #au #alterrnative universe #ao3

[rosaaaryn]

a q u e e n ' s c h o i c e

in the dimly lit chamber, heavy with the weight of anticipation the wisdom’'s voice bore the burden of grief as he delivered the dire news to the king of the north. “only one of them can most likely live your highness. i’m so sorry.”  throughout the evening, the stone walls of the castle reverberated with anguished cries, marking the onset of labor for the next child of house stark. but this time, the arrival was fraught with unforeseen complications. owen, somber and resolute, settled by his wife's side, his hand seeking hers in a silent gesture of solidarity. together, they listened as the sage relayed the harrowing choice that lay before them: the life of the queen or that of their unborn child. in a heartbeat, rosalyn, with unwavering resolve, voiced her decision. her gaze met owen's, her eyes a reflection of unwavering maternal love and sacrifice. "our child, owen. we must choose our child," she declared, her words bearing the weight of an unimaginable sacrifice. rosalyn knew the risks of what she choice. what it meant to have them focusing on saving the childs life. but she would willingly surrender her own life a thousand times over to safeguard the future of her children. if it meant they had a chance. she had known the risks everytime she laid down in the birthing bed. every woman did. and so she choice their child. with a heavy heart, rosalyn embraced the risk inherent in her decision, knowing full well the perilous path ahead. yet, she harbored no hesitation, for she would willingly surrender her own life a thousand times over to safeguard the future of her offspring. as their children were ushered into the room, rosalyn savored a fleeting moment to shower them with kisses, her heart heavy with the bittersweet knowledge that these may be her last embraces. alone with her husband in the quiet before the storm, rosalyn clutched owen's hand tightly, her tear-filled eyes. "don't let them forget me, promise me. please," she implored, her voice choked with emotion. "i won't. i promise you, they will not forget you," owen vowed, his own grief mirroring hers. even he knew the likely outcome of this. grasping onto the flickering flame of hope amidst the encroaching darkness, she spoke quietly to her husband "you are a good man, owen stark. you have a good soul. you doubt yourself i know you do…" she whispered, her voice trembling with conviction. "promise me you won't lose that." rosa could swear she saw a tear moving down his cheek, “i wont.” he promised, his voice tight. quiet and solumn as he made his promise. and so, as the night wore on and the castle fell into a hushed stillness, the cries of a newborn babe pierced the air, a beacon of life amidst the shroud of sorrow. the child was saved, but queen rosalyn was lost to them, her sacrifice felt by all those around her. the child that survived has been named rosalyn jeyne stark. a baby with red hair like her mothers. queen rosalyn will be buried in the crypts of the north, in the customs of the land she had gotten to embrace and call her own. @owenstark

#;;owen #;;self para #tw: childbirth #tw: death

[starsallalight]

While the Children of Don and their allies were rallying and moving toward Caer Dathyl, Gwydion left the care of the women and children, and the rule of Prydain should he and Math both die, to Gwyneira.

She tried only once to ask his permission to stay and fight, to stand with her family. But Gwydion told her that this was what she trained for all her life, that it was the path she had to walk, and what the people who couldn’t fight for themselves needed her to follow.

Knowing that her uncle was right, and staying to fight in her condition could be a death sentence, she agrees for the baby’s sake. But she still begs Math, Gwydion, and Arthfael all to come back to her in one piece. Math sadly is killed by the Cauldron-Born trying to defend Caer Dathyl. Arthfael and Gwydion are both wounded through all their fights, but they do return, and discover her pregnancy when they reunite at Caer Dallben.

Gwydion especially is terrified that he's going to lose her like he lost Arianrhod, and all the more determined to get to the Summer Country before she goes into labor, but Gwyneira and Arianllyn both assure the king and the prince that she and the baby are strong and will survive it.

#➳ 𝑎𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑠 & 𝑠𝑎𝑑 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑒 ➳ ; 𝑔𝑤𝑦𝑛𝑒𝑖𝑟𝑎 ; ❨headcanons❩ #War Tw #Death Tw #Pregnancy Tw #Death in childbirth Tw

[sabusthings]

Based on a dumb convo my housemates and I had, but I'm genuinely curious

You can be any animal you want if you choose pregnant animal. Give ur reasoning why

#tw pregnancy #I would choose being a horse bc the idea of me being pregnant is true horror and I would HATE IT outright despise myself #however my male housemate states that he would choose being a pregnant animal rather than a horse bc he claims horses are so fragile #and that he'd prefer the pain of childbirth than the slow death of a broken leg #other housemate also chose being a horse but thats bc crys is an unabashed horse girl

[buzzkillchainsaw]

⚠️ contains: Death during childbirth, violent imagery, censored nudity

#buzzkill mirai #comic #oc #tw death during childbirth #tw violent imagery

[cypriathus]

Here is my version of Sir Calogrenant!

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: There is a brief mention of death during childbirth.

Kaloghrentius Äglovetrud L’Eyschatonur is the notorious, honourable, taciturn, and somewhat oblivious Sanguine Knight who has an acrid, raunchy, and cheeky tongue. Despite his foul mouth, he’s unfailingly polite and good-mannered, often expressing himself in a thoughtful way. He’s quite respectful, but it becomes an immediate loss when someone treats him rudely or harms his daughter, niece, and/or two nephews. He’s abnormally passionate about his line of work and ruthless when it comes to battling and people who provoke his fury. He uses his language in an eloquent and seductive fashion, and possesses an unwavering dedication to justice and vengeance. He has a willingness to defend the weak and oppressed, and he’s always up for a good challenge and a bloody, yet fair fight. He’s self-sacrificing, energetic, and fearsome, but occasionally experiences melancholic thoughts of doubt, uncertainty, and inferiority. There are instances where he comes off as arrogant, blunt, and snobbish, but that’s only directed towards low-ranking demons and irredeemable people. He can be easily distracted by the kindness of others and adorable things that remind him of his daughter. Despite his valiant nature, Kaloghrentius is unfortunately known for his impulsiveness, hot-headedness, and sadistic attitude.

Kaloghrentius is a 11’ 3” (342.9 cm) endomorph with mildly tan skin, a rectangular figure, some muscle, and a beer belly. He has sparkling heterochromia eyes–right is fountain blue and the left is mule fawn–with slit pupils of old gold. He has six scars on his face: a blotchy scar on the right side of his jawline; one that covers his entire left cheek and reaches to the underside of his ear; a horizontal one across the middle of his face; and three diagonal scratches on his forehead. His shoulder-length, side-parted red brown hair is accompanied with messy curls, sideburns, and a scruffy Balbo beard.

He dons a full suit of plate armour drenched in blood and a royal mantle of black with snow leopard trim. The mantle is decorated in a khokhloma pattern with blue snowflakes, bright red roses, green fish, and a golden firebird in the centre. He wears a Russian boyar helmet flanked with a stylised wolf’s head in rose gold and tipped with two ostrich plumes. His cuirass depicts a ruddy kingfisher that has a long-haired woman’s head and his shoulder pads are chamois buck skulls with golden horns. Kaloghrentius possesses two shields with one of them serving as a backup: a red shield with a golden insignia depicting a coiled serpent devouring a naked man; and a pink shield with an angry white lion that has red claws on a crusily field. He wields a long-handled peasant flail that can create lakes, wildfires, tornadoes, and blizzards with a single strike. He also wields a parashu of wootz steel and a strong leather grip that enhances one’s military expertise.

He looks relatively the same when in his infernal form, but he doesn’t wear any clothes and has some noticeable physical changes. He’s 14’ 7” (444.5 cm) with a twisted head that’s blinded by bloody tears and scaly Prussian blue skin. He has the lower half of an eight-legged dun Priob horse with a dorsal stripe and zebra bars on the legs. He has four grotesquely muscular arms, massive rooster wings, and praying mantis forelegs in the middle of the Priob horse. A gnarly, cerulean-eyed, serpent-tongued wolf head adorns his abdomen and a horned viper is wrapped around his neck. Kaloghrentius’ golden-clawed fingers are slender and elongated, and his tail is reminiscent of a smoothhound.

Kaloghrentius has fantastic offensive and defensive combat skills that are far superior to most mortal and immortal beings. His combat encompasses incredible and efficient speed, strength, precision, reflexes, blade techniques, warfare and one-to-one battle analysis, bodily control, adaptation, and all aspects of practical fighting. His landscape-shattering strength waxes and wanes with the Sun, and he can summon storms and manipulate spring water and hallucinations. He’s able to heal severe wounds and change his size to match with the tallest tree known to humanity if he pleased. He can generate heat from his hands and suppress his physical need for sleep for an entire month. He has instincts to kill knightly enemies, infernal adversaries, and those who harm his daughter in the most effective ways possible. He has psychokinesis and heightened senses, and he can serpents, lion carcasses, and countries he’s familiar with to teleport. Kaloghrentius is a master of botany, geology, hunting, fishing, combat, seduction, and inducing sexual gratification and satisfaction.

FAMILY:

Unnamed giant murderer demon father

Unnamed sorcerer demon mother

Melothardius Bertolakhius Haludozert (adoptive older brother)

Pelmazodius Malwegrontius-Ulfebhorga Culwodrena (nephew)

Gwalchemozius Vortaghenius (daughter)

Gwalchevodius D’Balenomius (granddaughter)

ALIASES/NICKNAMES:

Sanguine Knight

The Great Fool

King of the White Mountain

FUN FACTS/EXTRA INFORMATION:

As an Æylphitus, the different parts of his name have special meanings: Kaloghrentius means “rejoicing grumbler”, Äglovetrud means “trap of a valley’s strength”, and L’Eyschatonur means “north shine”.

During his younger years, he had a foolish and talkative mindset, but would later abandon it for a more chivalrous and quiet attitude.

He despises Melothardius

After he went his separate ways with his brother, he decided to live in Russia because he found their language to be humorously endearing.

He lives in a castle of icy fire, solar rocks, and underworld stone at the base of a snowy mountain deep in the heart of Russia, which has an eclectic melding of Byzantine elements and pre-Petrine architecture. Not only is it his home, it’s used as a boundary between Nifjazroghetus and the earthly plane of existence.

He has a habit of grumbling to himself, especially when he’s feeling bitter and angry.

He likes to brag about how he managed to seduce Gwalchemozius’ mother in a light-hearted, yet crude manner. He often cites that she experienced the most divine moment in her entire life before her untimely death during childbirth.

He loves drinking medovukha and kvass

#writerscorner #writing #creative writing #death tw #death mention tw #childbirth tw #original character #personality #physical appearance #outfit #abilities #power #calogrenant #escanor #arthurian legend #red knight #russian #demon #fool #king #fun facts #extra information