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#baby willy
kaiju-wolfdragon · 8 months
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The were-demon mother and a baby
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mangoshibi · 3 months
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He practiced those faces before
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metamatronic · 5 months
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williamwasframed au; also known as Mike gets roommates simulator
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POV: you broke into the wrong apartment
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ky-landfill · 9 months
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He thinks of Jason constantly. When he’s working in the prison kitchen. When he’s lying awake at night in his cell. When a thunderstorm crashes against the roof of the prison, and all he can think of is Jason running to the window, fearless, to watch the storm in all its fury and wonder raging on the other side of the glass.
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eyluvu · 2 months
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He's just a cosy baby in his blankie
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maureen2musings · 1 year
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Willie Wagtails
katenewmanphoto
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kartsie · 11 months
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Todd brain rot (and Sheila too I guess)
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undertheredhood · 5 months
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jason todd at all times: y'know, i think i'm doing pretty good for myself as someone who's had four parents that i was never enough for.
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boyfridged · 4 months
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in which bruce time travels and does not hold baby jay. (853)
But the sudden weep tugs at Bruce’s heart so violently that he has to stop himself from burgling in through the window. He is close to doing it, even, the acute awareness that the infant is Jason– That this is his boy there, needy and lonely, overshadowing any logical thought.
Then there’s another sound, a low groan, and the room lightens up with the dim glow of the bedside lamp. Bruce takes a step back; perhaps to hide in the darkness of the corner, or maybe out of sheer surprise, confronted with a forgotten presence. 
Willis Todd’s face is uncanny in its familiarity– In its similarity to that of his– In his similarity to adult Jason’s. The only difference must be the serene darkness of his eyes, otherwise every feature so eerily mirroring that of Bruce’s son. There’s the sharp profile and yet the unexpected softness of the cheekbones, the fine arch of eyebrows, the smooth curl of hair. There’s that weariness that looks shocking when displayed on a face that young; because he is young, decades stretching between him and Bruce, dually literal.
Willis rubs his face and stumbles out of the bed, murmuring something that is incomprehensible because of the idiosyncrasy of his speech, or maybe in a language different altogether. He moves to the crib in a quick motion, stomping over a plushy and a pile of clothes abandoned on the floor, something he can clearly do even with his eyes half open, and picks up the baby– Bruce ignores the odd feeling curdling in his stomach, these ugly knots, focusing on the baby, the baby with huge grey eyes and a little face reddened with distress, despite the mellowness of the cry.
“You need to grow yourself some stronger lungs, huh, Jaybaby?” Willis Todd whispers. “How will daddy hear you when you’re so quiet?” His voice is still rough with sleep, and familiar too, even though Bruce Wayne has never met this man before in his life.
As if replying to the complaint, the infant wails loudly. It’s a short, piercing cry that is almost immediately remedied with gentle rocking.
“Oh, now that’s what I’m talking about. A great start to your opera career too.” Willis chuckles and pokes the tiny button nose.  Another whimper and he’s walking out of the bedroom, urging Bruce to move to the other side of the balcony, to peek into the window of the living room. If it can be called that, since it seems to also fulfill the purpose of a kitchen, storage and laundry rooms all at once. There’s a rusty bike next to the door, leaning onto the textured wall, and three different colourful rugs on the wooden floor. The sofa is mostly neatly covered with a floral blanket, but there are scratches visible at the sides, and there is the perpetrator, an orange cat curled on top of it. It stirs awake and jumps to follow the man into the kitchenette area, fawning at his legs as he moves the cheese grater and a stack of the other dishes aside to find a bottle. 
It is a mess, but it is no worse than a mess Bruce would expect from any single dad. No dirt in the corners, just clutter and one too many empty cups on the counter. Willis starts moving them to the sink while the bottle is heating, the baby still safely tucked, but now held only with one arm. His mouth is moving, but Bruce cannot make out any words.
It is when the man moves back to the bedroom, where the window remains open, that he realises why his attempts at lip reading came to nothing. The constant, soothing chatter is Vietnamese. The monologue does not stop even though Jason seems pacified enough, latching on the milk with eyes half-open. 
“Enough?” Willis asks, switching to English, when the tiny fingers push the bottle away. “Mhm, not that hungry after all?” He sets it away and moves to the crib. But the moment Jason is settled on the soft blankets, he cries out fiercely. It does not take Willis even a split second to pick him up again, the sobbing stopping instantly. 
“So this is what it is about, huh,” he whispers, seemingly giving up on any other arrangement and simply collapsing on the armchair, the bed forsaken. “‘S a good note though. Just don’t forget your dad when you’re rich and famous,” he adds, before reverting to hushed Vietnamese. 
The foreign words heave uncomfortably at Bruce’s mind, reminding him that he should not be there. And as if in agreement, the comms spark to life, the static in his ears quickly replaced with quiet: “Batman, do you copy?” 
For a moment, he does not reply.
Inside, the infant sighs, unexpectedly loudly, eyes still intent on the father. 
“Tough life, huh, Jaybaby?” Willis says and mimics the sigh, overexaggerated. He smiles tiredly and rubs the round cheeks affectionately. And the baby laughs. The baby laughs and the sound is as loud and unrestrained as the cry before. It's unmistakable.
On the balcony, a cape flutters. 
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roxygen22 · 2 months
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ROXY'S MASTERLIST
All works are fictional and are solely for entertainment purposes.
Star Wars
Stretch Marks
Karaoke Headcanons
Wonka (2023)
My Little Cocoa Bean series (ongoing)
Willy Wonka and reader start a family of their own. "Bun in the Oven" was the start, and I've been writing around it since. These are written out of chronological order as ideas come to me. Ben/Bean's age noted in ().
Boxes (prequel)
Bun in the Oven - Part 1 (unborn)
Bun in the Oven - Part 2 (newborn)
Family Business (6 months)
Sniffles (2 years)
Boats and Babies (3 years)
Paper (3/17 years)
ABCs (4 years)
Little Sister (4 years)
Babysitter (5 years)
First Day of School (5 years)
Brownie (7 years)
Bottled Up (12 years)
Timothée Chalamet
Wish
Chart
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firenati0n · 1 day
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wip wednesday <3 :)
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hello friends :) happy wednesday, hope you are well! happiest of birthdays to my babygirl Alex Claremont-Diaz, love you endlessly my beautiful big brained bisexual disaster with a heart of gold
thank you to @jellibuns @junebugclaremontdiaz @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @piratefalls @bigassbowlingballhead @leojfitz @ships-to-sail @suseagull04 @dragonflylady77 @kiwiana-writes @onthewaytosomewhere @wordsofhoneydew @priincebutt @magicandarchery @leaves-of-laurelin @eusuntgratie @duchessdepolignaca03 @saturntheday @itsmaybitheway @captainjunglegym @indestructibleheart @oxfordslutphase @tailsbeth-writes for the tags this week and on sunday :)
here's a snip from a tiny spy au coming this week if i can wrangle these men into submission:
“I'm serious, Alex. No theatrics. Certainly no blood. What's the code for trouble?” “Barracuda.” Henry clicks his tongue. “Too many syllables for my taste.” “Your name is too many syllables for my taste, yet you don't see me complaining.” “Touché.” He grasps Alex's shoulder, taking a long look into Alex's eyes. Henry's body is serene, but his eyes are always his tell for Alex. They're cloudy, tense; murky waters. “Be careful, please. We both know how dangerous these men are. Manu is unpredictable, even as the mafia equivalent of a middle manager.” “Aw, worried about me, sweetheart?” Alex grins, but it's a little unsteady, faltering at the edges. “Henry. This is easy. And if I’m lucky, no dicks will have to come out.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. He really, really doesn’t want any dicks out this time. “See you in five, okay?” He squeezes Henry's arm, then slips out of the supply closet. Back to work.
xoxo roop
+ no pressure tags below the cut and open tag as always <3 tag me if you use :)
@ninzied @cha-melodius @sparklepocalypse @cricketnationrise @orchidscript @getmehighonmagic @myheartalivewrites @welcometololaland @anincompletelist @nocoastposts @tintagel-or-cockleshells @sherryvalli @lizzie-bennetdarcy @heysweetheart-writes @inexplicablymine @onward--upward @celeritas2997 @affectionatelyrs @14carrotghoul @rmd-writes @cultofsappho @anchoredarchangel @candyspandemonium @porcelainmortal @kj-bee @nontoxic-writes
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kaiju-wolfdragon · 10 months
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Pov:
You saw two babies about to wake up the universe demon herself
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Stop them?
>yes
>no
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biohazzrds · 5 months
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White boy save me..save me white boy
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tiger-balm · 2 months
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kniesy hearing about willys 8 year contract
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bonefall · 3 months
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Buzzardclaw's a whore you say ... My interest is peaked I love these types of gossips (In fiction)
Buzzardclaw is yet another Kit Save! WindClan is RIDICULOUSLY tiny, I had to SCRAPE this one up. Buzzardkit is mentioned in only a single page in Po3 Book 1: The Sight, where he is soothed by an unnamed queen who reveals his name. I decided that his mothers are Snapstorm and Stoneclaw, and the unnamed queen who soothed him was Snapstorm.
(THOUGH I am considering taking the unnamed queen and making her into a full character, tbh. I'm not kidding, this Clan is unacceptably small and it is ALL hands on deck. Maybe make her into a permaqueen type.)
WindClan NEEDED more sillies, because the majority of the cats in it are pretty harsh and serious, so I decided that this one was going to be sort of a hopeless romantic gossip girl type. He's really close with his Mi, Snapstorm, who's an Aftergathering regular at the Lake and likes trading. Because of her, Buzzardkit was getting acquainted with other cats from a young age and just kinda learned to play up how cute he is.
He grew up into a pretty kitty, too. Both of his parents are handsome mollies, and he managed to somehow get FOUR colors from between them. White, brown, black, and gold. It makes up for the fact he has very few scars, because he's a wuss.
He uses his charm and appearance to get people to do what he wants, but he has absolutely no ambition to follow up with this. What he wants is a nice blanket made of mole hide, or a good bit of gossip, or competitive scratchstone tips. Probably becomes a popular Honor Sire in his later years.
Just a fun, low-stakes dude in the background.
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3416 · 4 months
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this whole mic'd up section had me grinning from ear to ear...... the optimism about a comeback.... the excited yelling..... the nicknames.... oh
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