#dad!thomas sharpe

[notgilderoylockhart]

I made Edith's Nightgown from Crimson Peak ✨

I did not use a pattern for this, I did however take some notes. The neckpiece and the body are seperate (just to make it easier to get into). I used a little less than 10m of chiffon (which I randomly found in my fabric stash lol), some lace I had lying around, a buttonhole ribbon and some pearl buttons both of which I got on Amazon. Would definitely recommend at least 10m of fabric if not more for ultimate ruffliness.

The neckpiece was made by cutting out four 70cm circles with a 10cm hole in the middle and sewing those together to form one big long ruffle. I then sewed four parallel lines, with super long stitches and bunched up the fabric to create the ruffle effect. I left the bottom of the neckpiece raw, just because I think it adds a bit of texture. Then I sewed on a buttonhole ribbon and the lil pearl buttons (which I got from amazon).

The body is just a 170cm wide and 150cm long piece and a 170cm x 170cm long piece sewn together, ruffled at the top and with a band of elastic sewn on. The nightgown does have a train so I cut a lil curve into the bottom of the longest piece.

The biggest challenge was the sleeve. Chiffon doesnt hold it's shape very well, so I mixed together some starching fluid (boiled starch and water) and ironed the hell out of it. The bottom of the sleeve I deliberately cut way too long so I could ruffle it. Last thing I did was add some lace to the cuffs. I probably would do a few things differently next time but I'm happy with how it came out. Now I just need a white wig lol ^^

And here's the finished result:

Btw, I also found this promo picture and decided it would look great as a background, so if you wanna use it yourself, here ya go, I edited out Lucille for ya. Go nuts.

PS: actual footage of me running down the stairs in this lovely flowy nightgown arrrrggghhh I love it so much anyway thanks for reading love ya

[not-another-robin]

I dont understand DC writers aversion to writing Thomas and Martha Wayne with personality traits more than just "nice". Bruce barely remembers his mom's laugh, but he knows it was loud and sharp. He remembers his dad smelled like cigarettes after certain days in the OR. He remembers how they would act funny when they got drunk at parties. His mom was a sore loser. His dad would humble brag about going to a prestigious medschool. His mom was a terrible cook.

[sunlightmurdock]

My Future in You | 2.6 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, will be smut so 18+, enemies to lovers kinda thing, babies and fluff and more babies, bradley being a nervous first time daddy, wc: 3.8k

…

“This… doesn’t look right.” Bradley pulls back and rests his hands against his hips, staring at the car seat with an unimpressed gaze frown.

“Sure it does.” You answer, peering around him to examine the situation in front of you. The straps are secure at the top of his chest, his plush cheek resting against the padded restraints.

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t look comfortable.” Bradley answers you with a shake of his head. This is his second practice of the day. He doesn’t want Tom to be in the car seat too long, but he knows that his most significant job in all of this is getting the two of you home safe.

He leans forwards and begins to fiddle with the straps again. Your newborn doesn’t seem fussed by his neurotic, worried dad anyways. Bradley hums. “Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll figure it out.”

“The Bradshaws! — How are we this morning?”

This, Thomas is fussed by. Over the last six days, the first six of his life, you’ve figured that your son has some pretty sharp reflexes. Even just blowing on his cheek makes him flinch. He jumps, arms and legs tensing at once, his still unfocused eyes blowing wide open as the doctor strolls into the room.

His lip begins to wobble and his nose scrunches up tight, his hands trembling under the confines of his mittens. You nudge Bradley out of the way and unclasp the straps right as Thomas begins to cry.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to spook this little sweetheart.” The doctor is smiling and reaching out to tickle the infant’s back and on your end, everything is forgiven. Bradley, however, glares at her as he reaches his son.

You hadn’t been expecting the same guy who once jumped off of the roof of a neighbouring frat house and into their pool to be such a nervous nelly when it came to parenthood. Especially not the same guy who told you he wanted no part in any of this.

You roll your eyes, rocking softly, shushing the baby. These past six days have taught you a lot of things. That the birthmark on the bottom of Thomas’ back is kind of the shape of Italy. That even though he can’t see much yet, he likes to look around while he’s being fed. That Bradley is not fast enough at changing diapers yet to avoid getting peed on.

That somehow, you and Bradley might have just created the most perfect little boy in the entire world. With his thatches of brown hair and his tiny fingers and toes, his sloped nose and poured lips. Those funny, jumpy reflexes.

“I’m just here to do some tests, see if we can get you guys home today.” She tells you with a bright smile. From the way that your face changes, she can tell that this is the news that you’ve been waiting for. Six days of barely walking, hearing other people’s babies screaming — you’ve been ready to go home for a while.

“Today? — Nobody said today. They said tomorrow.” Bradley interjects loudly. You scowl across at him and he shuts up, but the nervous way he fidgets on his feet tells you everything you need to know.

“I know, I know. But he’s doing just fine so far, and I’m sure you two are eager to sleep in your own beds again.” The doctor coos softly, learning from her initial mistake as she takes the baby from your arms. She follows your pattern of soothing and rocking and Thomas seems to consider quietening down.

Bradley pushes his hands into the pockets of his sweat shorts and just leans back against the end of the hospital bed. He’s so focused on watching this stranger with your baby that he doesn’t even hear you move until you’re pressing in against his side.

“You’re doing fine.” You promise him, stretching your open palm against the fabric of his black t-shirt, stretching your neck to look at him. “Stop stressing.”

He doesn’t say anything, and that worried frown on his face doesn’t soften either. Bradley swallows, brushes a hand over his upper lip and reaches out for you. You close

Your eyes as he secures an arm around your waist and tugs you closer, leaning down and resting his mouth against the top of your head.

He inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of unfamiliar shampoo and hospital borrowed soap.

“She called you a Bradshaw, you know.” He whispers finally, just before he straightens back up. You scoff, jabbing the tip of your index finger into his side.

“Don’t get any ideas, Pops. It’s bad enough you talked me into letting Tommy take your name.” You’re joking, of course. The amusement in your voice makes his chest feel that little bit less tight. You’ll say yes, one day. He’ll make sure it’s special and you’re not giving birth next time, and you’ll say yes.

He pinches your side playfully and tugs you closer again. “Pops? — I thought we agreed on you calling me—“

He grunts as you jerk your elbow back into his stomach, just enough to make him jolt but not enough to actually hurt the idiot you’ve come to be so fond of. There it is, he grins behind you, his chest rumbling with a soft chuckle.

Minutes later, the doctor turns around to you and gives you the go-ahead. Suddenly, the little boy in the roomy onesie is all yours, and yours alone. Well, not that suddenly, there’s paperwork first. But sudden feels the only appropriate word when you’re walking out of the hospital, with no one to guide you.

Bradley’s knuckles are white around the handle of the car seat in his right hand, a slightly softer approach to the way that he’s holding your hand in his left.

“You’re sure you can walk? — They said you could have a chair, if you want a chair.” He checks, for the second time since you stepped out of the elevator.

“I’m fine.” You give his hand a soft squeeze and groan softly as you step out into the mid-summer suffocation of the Florida heat. “Now walk with purpose. It’s too hot for this.”

Settled into the backseat beside Thomas, sleeping in his car seat, you catch Bradley frowning worriedly back at the both of you before he turns the key in the ignition.

The drive home is slow, and uneventful. The baby is asleep. Bradley’s eyes are trained seriously on the road, his hands holding a steady ten and two position on the wheel. You don’t dare suggest that he turns on the radio.

There were plenty of things that you had prepared yourself for when you had decided to have your baby. Your body changing, fine. Your career plans changing, okay. The hormones and the responsibilities and the tiny human who would depend on you for probably the rest of your life, sure.

Some things about such a drastic lifestyle change simply cannot be planned for.

Nine hours ago, you brought your son home from the hospital. This is something that you would never admit out loud, but in those last few days of your pregnancy, the concern had flooded your mind that maybe your feelings for Bradley were purely hormonal. You were carrying his child, it makes sense that your body would want him around. It was the after that had concerned you.

But, you had watched today as Bradley had carried the car seat in one hand and secured you by his side with the other. He had buckled your son into the car, and he had driven home under the speed limit the entire way.

You exhale softly as you step out of the shower. That’s growing easier now, six days later, but your body is far from healed. Your legs still tremble when you try to stand too long, and your back aches in a way you’re starting to worry might be permanent.

It’s quiet in your apartment now. You listen out as you towel dry your body, trying to find the pitch of a sports narrator or some soft music — anything. It’s almost dead silent.

You wriggle into your pyjamas and wrap your wet hair, walking slow out of the bathroom and down the hall. You’re barely dry, your warm feet padding along the carpet, wrinkled fingers pushing open the door to the bedroom.

One of the things that none of the articles you had read seemed to mention, is what to do the first time that you see the father of your child at home with your baby.

Bradley’s sitting up against the pillows with Thomas nestled against his chest. His hand eclipses the infant’s torso as he pats his back softly. Thomas’ cheek is resting against Bradley’s pectoral, you can’t see from where you are but instinct and your son’s uncharacteristic stillness tells you that he’s sleeping.

Bradley’s singing. He’s patting the baby’s back gently and he’s singing softly, trying hard to push the usually deep rumble of his voice into lullaby territory.

Your mouth falls slack, cold feet becoming still against the soft floor. This tiny first apartment and its discernible wooden doors that creak at every opportunity give you away and he stops just as quickly as he is perceived.

His gaze flickers up and his lips twist softly into a small smile. You watch him take account of your matching maternity pyjamas which threaten to be too big without the stretch of your bump. Amusement floods the hint of the smile on his lips — he loves to laugh at these pyjamas.

His hand stills against Thomas’ back, those glittery brown eyes flicker up to study the look on your face.

“Hey, babe,” He hums, keeping his voice low so that he doesn’t startle the baby. “How was your shower?”

“I didn’t think I would miss our shitty water pressure, but I’m just so glad we’re not at the hospital anymore.” You pad across the carpet towards him and crawl into bed, pulling back the sheets and draping yourself across Bradley’s brawny thighs.

He looks down at you and secures the infant close to his chest, freeing one hand to brush tenderly across your cheek.

“What was that song were you singing him?” You ask. The ceiling fan whirs above you like a thrumming, excessively loud lullaby. The warmth of his thigh props up your cheek.

There’s something about it all that feels too much like a dream. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. The NICU isn’t exactly a luxury retreat, despite its price point. Tonight is your first night home from the hospital. Your son is six days old and yesterday, he officially crossed the threshold into five pound territory. Tonight, he’s huddled against Bradley’s bare chest, wearing a diaper that had seemed too tiny for an actual human to wear and zipped into a onesie printed with little ducks on it. Geese, maybe, actually.

You lift your hand and reach out, watching your fingertip follow the soft cotton covering those wrinkled lines on the sole of Thomas’ foot that you’ve come to be so familiar with already.

The infant curls his toes and unclenches them again, scrunching his knees. Bradley watches, lips twisted into a smile that he couldn’t fight back if he tried.

There’s something about the steady, heavy thrum of Bradley’s heartbeat that puts the kid right to sleep. The warm bath and the ounce of milk that came before he was set on his dad’s stomach may have helped too. Bradley’s hand cups the back of Thomas’ neck, keeping the sleeping baby steady.

“Wildflowers by, uh— Tom Petty, I think?” Bradley shrugs. In truth, he knows the song inside and out — it was the first song he learned to play on piano. He’s used to playing that down. Girls find guitars hot, not his years of classical piano lessons.

You smile, lifting your head and pressing a gentle kiss to the sole of the baby’s foot, soft blue cottons

against your lips. Then, you lower your mouth and press it softly to Bradley’s stomach. Just once, before you drop your head back down and set it against his thigh.

“He’s so good, and I’m still exhausted.” You murmur, exhaling deeply. Behind heavy lids, you make a mental note to look into which ingredient in the smell of baby soap acts as such a good sleeping agent.

“You should sleep. He’ll be up again in a couple of hours.” Bradley reminds you, stroking damp hair back off of your forehead. Closing your eyes, you nod with him, but make no effort to move. He smiles. “Come on, I don’t need to sing the both of you to sleep, do I?”

You huff a soft sound of amusement, giving a small shake of your head. “Not tonight, Pops. Put him to bed, let’s get some sleep.”

Bradley chuckles, carefully shifting your son off of his stomach and instead laying him across his thighs as you sit up.

“Mom and Dad… isn’t that crazy?” He muses, stroking his thumb across the soft hair on the infant’s head. Thomas is still so small that Bradley’s palm makes him look even tinier. You lean into your boyfriend’s shoulder and stroke the baby’s cheek.

“I know.” You agree quietly.

Big, round cheeks and pursed lips, dark eyelashes and a soft little nose. His tiny hands balled into fists, his knees curled up to his middle. Blue clouds adorning his onesie. Half you, and half Bradley.

“Alright, we’ll see you in a couple hours, little man. Yell if you need something.” Bradley half jokes as he pushes himself up from the bed and turns to set the baby into the bassinet. With the lung capacity he has already impressed you with, you know that he’ll have no issues letting you know if he wants something.

He crawls back into bed beside you and flicks the beside lamp off, pulling the covers up around the two of you. Readily, you press yourself close to him and close your eyes. He smells like baby soap.

“Are you still hurting anywhere?” Bradley’s voice lowers to a whisper now, his breath fanning across the nape of your neck as he leans his head into the crook of your shoulder and cautiously rests a hand against your hip. Into the dark, your mouth twitches at a smile.

Your hips feel both squished and torn apart at the same time. Your back feels like it might never feel quite right ever again. But even with him a cautious distance from you, you can feel the perpetual warmth from his body.

“Everywhere. But I still want you to hold me.”

Slowly, he slides an arm under you and another over you. Draping his body around yours, he pulls you close and suddenly you get whatever it is that sends Thomas off to sleep so easily. The faint musky smell of his fading cologne. The steady, heavy thrum of his heartbeat. The long, deep pattern of his breathing.

Just when you think he has beat you to it, he reminds you that he’s still awake. A soft, chaste kiss presses to your throat, his voice low as he mumbles, “I love you.”

As much as Thomas is a good baby; he’s still a baby. A small one at that, with plenty of growing to do. Even now, he just about finishes an ounce of milk at a time — half of the time. That means a lot of wake ups. A lot of diaper changes with your eyes half open.

The first four days of parenthood pass you by before you’ve really come to terms with the reality of it all. Constant feeds through the night, surviving off of instant noodles and pizza — all of this doesn’t feel too far of a stretch from your recent college days.

But it’s harder now. The responsibilities are never ending. It’s hard to remain rational about any of it.

“If you could breastfeed, would you do it?”

From the other end of the couch, Bradley seems to startle awake. Brows drawing together in confusion, he stares across your dimly lit living room at you, then takes a second to look around him.

You’re at the end of the movie now, so he doesn’t have a clue how long he has been sleeping. Stretching his legs out, he sighs softly, “Yeah. I guess so.”

Your mouth twitches at the fact that he doesn’t even ask you why. He blinks softly and brings both hands up to rub at his eyes tiredly.

“What time is it?”

“Two, maybe.” You shrug, watching Thomas’ eyelids grow heavy. His hands remain balled and tucked in against his chest. He has spent these past four days stretching out occasionally, scrunching himself back into a tight ball frequently.

“No fucking way did I just sleep for four hours. The movie’s still playing.” Bradley protests, awkwardly fumbling to push himself upright and puckering his mouth into a deep frown. You just shrug across at him once more.

“I put the sequel on after you fell asleep.”

He hadn’t ever thought he would be able to have a regular conversation with a woman who had her breast out in front of him, but here he is. It doesn’t even cross his mind to check you out. The only thing he’s thinking about is the fact you’re running on maybe an hour of uninterrupted sleep and all you had wanted was to watch your movie with him. And he had fallen asleep.

He fumbles around, checking his pockets for his phone, finding it instead resting between his jaw and shoulder. You close your eyes for a moment as he checks the time. In the split second that your eyes are shut, Thomas makes a spluttering sound.

As quickly as you can lift and turn him, the has already spit the last mouthful of milk back against your skin and all down his chin.

“Oh, Tommy…” You groan, adjusting the strap of your nursing bra with one hand as you support him with the other.

“Here, I’ll take him.” Bradley offers, pushing himself up and starting to scoot towards you.

“We’re fine.” Maybe it comes out a little bit harsh, maybe your tone is a little colder than normal. Bradley frowns at you, sitting still at the opposite end of the sectional. “Just go back to sleep.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean to—“

“I know you didn’t.” You’re just doubling down at this point as you wipe at Thomas’ mouth with a muslin cloth. Bradley’s brows draw together a bit.

“So why are you mad at me? — Just let me help you.” He pushes forwards again and reaches for your son.

“I said we’re fine!” You bite back. The baby flinches and quickly starts to scream. You slam your eyes shut, darkness behind your lids and a dull ache drilling from your temples to the core of your brain.

Opposite you, Bradley sighs, dropping his head forward into his hands. You’re both silent. The sequel plays on. The baby keeps on screaming. Neither one of you look at each other.

This is what all new parents go through, you know that. It doesn’t make it any less sore in the moment.

“What should I do?” Bradley asks finally, pushing up from the sofa and squeezing against your side, wrapping an arm around your aching shoulders. It’s not worth dragging your eyes open for.

“Never get me pregnant again, for starters.” You mutter half-jokingly. Bradley chuckles at your side and turns his head to kiss at those sore temples, like he can feel where it hurts. Maybe those dad-senses are sharper than you give him credit for.

“Not even once more? — But look how cute the first one wa—“ He’s only joking of course, but he still has the good sense to shut up when you turn your head and glare at him. He grins, and he looks just like he did the first time you were stupid enough to melt for that pretty look.

“You hungry?” Bradley asks. He read somewhere that breastfeeding can cause stronger appetites.

“Yeah.”

“Dad’s got it. We’ll be right back.” Bradley promises you, dipping forwards and kissing your temple once more, stealing the baby in one fell swoop. “Come on, buddy.”

Bradley pads into the kitchen barefoot, bouncing the baby in his arms and you let your eyes fall shut once more. You’re only two weeks in. They don’t start sleeping through the night for another couple months at least — sometimes years. You don’t know how you could do another couple years of being this delirious.

Closing your eyes, it’s easy enough to imagine that you’re not here. That you’re still in school, or still in your parents’ house. Somewhere safer, where you could hide from the limited responsibilities that you had back then. It would be so easy to drift off into a dream about life being that easy again.

Instead, the sofa dips at your side and your boys are back. Bradley announces himself by kissing your cheek softly and pressing a spoon into your hand.

“All we have is Ice-Cream.” He tells you, settling Thomas into the crook of his elbow and passing the tub of ice cream off to you. You blink at the vanilla flavoured frozen treat in front of you, then look up to stare at him. “I’ll go to the store tomorrow. We’ll both go. You can stay here and sleep in.”

You look away for just a second, digging the tip of your spoon into the ice cream, and hear him continue.

“We can get whatever we want, Mommy won’t be there to tell us no.”

Despite your best efforts, a smile itches its way across your face. You turn your head and attempt to force at a scowl. All five of Thomas’ right-hand fingers are wrapped around Bradley’s little finger, they both seem to be looking at you.

“I don’t care what you come home with as long as there’s more of this stuff in there somewhere.” You decide, slipping a spoonful into your mouth and savouring the flavour on your tongue. Bradley shifts, leaning his head against yours.

“Share.” He demands, leaving his mouth open. You snuff your nose at him as you dig another spoonful from the tub and shovel it into his mouth. “That’s so good.”

“Probably not what we should be eating. We aren’t setting a very good example.” You hum, ignoring your own advice and gulping down another spoonful, kicking your feet up onto the coffee table.

If only your mother could see you now. She would lose her marbles if she saw your approach to motherhood.

“Eh, this kid pees himself all day long. We’ll start being good examples for him later on.” Bradley shrugs, leaning his weight into you, turning his attention back to the tv. “So can you explain to me what I missed?”

…

Taglist: @chaoticweirdogeek @alanadetigy @itsmytimetoodream @oldnatgwenaccount @khaylin27 @bioodforbiood @luckyladycreator2 @mizzzpink @cherrycola27 @unordinare @heli991113 @ghxst-heart @momc95 @asteria33 @lilyevanswhore @diamond-3 @galaxy-moon @jostyriggslover96 @forgiveliv @shawnsblue @little-wiseone @lovemesomevesey @alm33 @averyhotchner @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @himbos-on-ice @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @slutford @kmc1989 @swiftsgirlfriend

[yestrday]

do u have ayato or heizou crumbs 🐦

you might like: genshin hybrids au

let's do some hybrid crumbs because i miss my animal harem:

ayato 🦈

while ayato's lounging around the house, ayato has a bluish-grey tint to his skin with scales covering some parts, often at the end of his limbs, his temples, and his neck. he's got rows of small yet sharp teeth and a long scaly tail coming out from just the end of his spine.

ayato has been living at the mansion even before the mansion was built. minding his business... chilling in the lake, till some construction workers ruined it for him. he would've honestly ripped them all to shreds if it weren't for the fact that he saw cute lil you peeking out from behind your father's back

he shares the lake with most of the water-based animals, although he has a territorial feud with neuvillette. he knows it's a losing battle for him though, so ever since the water dragon moved in he's been hanging out at the mansion more often

if there's the unofficial security team (glorified stalkers) then there's the sortaaa official education team. your dad commissioned zhongli to take care of your homeschooling and prepare you for your debut in society. zhongli has appointed ayato to brush youu up on etiquette

as with all the other tail-having animals in the mansion, he also likes to wrap his tail around your legs. but while their furry tails evoke a sense of comfort and warmth within you, his sandpaper-like tail makes chills run up your spine.

to make matters worse, he likes scaring you with his spiky teeth. they might be small, but they're numerous, and the teasing glint in his eyes make you second guessing what he might do. he often likes to nip playful little bites along your skin while you're cuddled on his lap. if you squirm too much and distract him from his work, he bites you as a warning. he often gets scolded by thoma as the dog hybrid patches up your wound.

kinda has a bad rep in your house. he doesn't show his face often, and when he does he likes to pull small pranks that he doesn't even bother owing up to.

heizou 🦉

around your house, heizou's hybrid form has two puffy reddish-brown wings protruding from his back and feathery talon-legs. in the dark, you can often spot him thanks to his round, glowing eyes.

there's a village on the foot of the hill where your mansion resides, and heizou is pretty famous around there. there's no thrilling mystery there, but he likes to help out people find their missing pets and whatnot.

when your managerial team (neuvi, zhongli, ayato) needs to sleuth something out (get dirt on your rivals <- usually ayato, try to protect you from possible danger <- neuvi & zhongli, get the upperhand <- ayato again), they often go to heizou. he often takes the commission with glee (moreso if ayato commissions it)

enjoys his position on your shoulder, though he has to fight most of the avian hybrids for it. he makes these pleasant hoot noises whenever you scratch his head juuust right. when he's feeling a bit mischievous, he will suddenly pop into his human form so he can squish you under his weight

makes these hoot noises in between his words, has a slightly higher pitch when pronouncing 'oo' sounds. he doesn't quite care much about this habit when he's in the mansion, but in more human company he finds himself slipping a bit and gets embarrassed about it.

doesn't really care much for preening his feathers, but the other avians pester him about it so it still gets preened. he thinks he can do more useful stuff than just sitting in a circle with the other avians and preening each other's feathers.

a bit flirty with almost everyone and anyone under the sun. he doesn't fail to throw flirty remarks towards the other hybrids just to mess with them, but he gets a bolder when it's with you. no matter your personality, you've still got a bit of naivete thanks to your sheltered upbringing, and he likes to take advantage of it.

[bruciemilf]

may you give us more thomas and martha wayne headcanon pls

🥹🙏

Thomas was Italian american and v annoying about it. "My 4th great great great great great great grandmother was Sicilian " type bitch (I mean c'mon he's from jersey)

Was on Jersey Shore and started fights for the fun of it. Has a BFF tattoo with Snooki

Tried acting for like a year, won an Oscar, married Paris Hilton for a week, got bored, became a surgeon. Profit

Bruce loved his accent and would constantly waddle after his dad with various objects, " Daddy what's thiiis" " That's a cuppa cawffe!" "Thiiiis?" " A cuppa wattah,"

Very much Margot Robbie in Wolf of Wall Street. " Who, who? What are you, a fuckin' owl?!"

His favorite TV shows were The Sopranos and Sex And The City. Was delightfully trashy and gave off strong "Keanu Reeves' "got rich and famous on accident" vibes

Martha was a figure skater. She and Thomas met at one of her shows, but she was a part time vigilante (killed abusive spouses and corrupt policemen)

Was an anti-war activist, which strained her relationship with her family. Served for a while as a Sargent. She and Alfred sometimes had nightmares and would talk for hours over a cup of tea

While Thomas had the organic power to make any story, as mundane as it was, into the most entertaining piece of dialogue you've ever heard, making you comfortable enough to feel like you've been best friends for years,

with Martha, not as colourfully but just as charismatic as her husband, just made you open up. She'd give you her undivided attention and gave you sharp but helpful honesty and warm, familial comfort when you needed it

I think we should talk more about how Bruce grew up with a functional, healthy example of romantic partnership, and how he's constantly trying to recreate that in every relationship

Martha and Thomas were chaotic and wild and so remarkably WAYNE. They were WEIRD! They were striking and strange and close knit. I can absolutely see Thomas' love language being extreme and strange but adorable acts of service, Martha's being words of affirmation and physical touch, Alfred bring sarcasm and grounding.

Thomas had ADHD, Martha had autism, and like many adults with these particular diagnosis, they were like. Huh I wonder what's this weird little thing. Let's not tall abt it ever

Thomas carried baby Bruce everywhere and bought him a mini motorcycle to ride around the manor. Damian finds it and by the will of everything he WILL fit

Whenever Bruce got into fights at school, Martha and Alfred would diplomatically give him the responsible, "Violance is not the answer" speech

As soon as Alfred isn't around, Martha is like " Good boy. Grab a lighter and put it between your fist next time." Thomas would straight up tell Bruce to stab

[shikariiin]

As per voting, Some Gordward AU!

Brief lore : This au is mostly just wholesome, Gordon and Edward having a much more healthy relationship than the main AU, the difference being Edward having a blue hair tie, he also can be out of pocket at times (HAHA).

He takes more of a chill going Dad since Gordon is strict, yes they’re already married while working on the railway (as well as having children), Thomas accepts Gordon faster as a step dad since Ed introduced both of them early, as opposed to the main au where he builds trust.

Their dynamic towards their children is literally just :

Gordon : Get home early, no buts, be here at 7PM Sharp, do not be late, don’t-

Edward : Come home (optional), Bring bread (Required)

Oke that’s all thank you HEHE

[rauberrauber]

line up baby

wanted to make a sort of ref for everyone so i can keep track of everyone's designs, heights, etc

side hcs below cuz i wanna ramble lol

fyi any links are just for pictures to help visualize what im trying to say

also add to these with ur own i love reading hcs :]

general:

the sides work with a kind of cartoon logic (kinda like who framed Roger rabbit) which is what their shape shifting and such is, they can survive pretty much everything, dont bend to reality type thing

i also dig playing around with the idea that they just arent human, they dont need to eat, sleep, even breathe or blink if they dont wanna. They just play more human around thomas so they dont freak him out (everyone but remus at least, dude doesnt give a fuck lol) they all have their priorities regarding that kinda stuff. like logan doesnt eat or sleep almost at all (there r exceptions tho obvi (crofters))  while patton rly likes to cook and bake so why not eat the stuff you make? meanwhile remus eats literally anything he can find

they can also float if they wanna, same thing where they just dont around thomas. this came about me just imagining remus consistently floating around in the mindscape instead of walking for whatever reason? so yeah they can do that

theres a core mindscape and a ‘dark’ mindscape, that sorta works like the upside down from stranger things (as in the dark mindscape is like literally upside down and mirrors everything, like this)

everyones also got their own unique doors to their rooms. logans is very sleek and modern, pattons in more childlike and almost vintage, romans resemble castle doors while remus’ is more like a dungeons, virgils is typically angsty teenager with tons of posters and ‘keep out’ signs, and janus has tons of locks on his

design wise the core sides have straight teeth and fluffier hair while the dark sides have sharp teeth and rougher(?) hair (since changing, virgil has vampire-esque fangs)

logan:

square rimmed glasses

loves the rain

unintentionally fidgets with his clothes, always adjusting his glasses or rolling his sleeves up and down or messing with the buttons or his tie

playing more into the whole ‘sides dont have to eat thing’ he finds food kinda nasty lol, again only rly eats stuff thats very good to him (ultimate picky eater basically) patton has tried and failed many times to get logan to try and like new foods

roman was the one who got him to try crofters

watches those long ass video essays about random topics on youtube for background noise

patton:

round glasses and heart eyes

has roller blades/skates! specifically these ones that retract the wheels. good way of getting energy out (even if hes super clumsy with them)

tallest + dad bod

tons of bandages, kinda playing around with the phrase ‘broken heart’

him and janus play video games together (both of them are terrible lol)

definitely listens to dad rock/dad music

roman:

starry eyes!

crown can float on its own (same w/ remus’)

has one of these couches in his room to dramatically faint onto

him and remus dont share a room, but they have a sort of portal to each others rooms if that makes sense. a big mirror but instead of reflecting, its showing into the other room and only the twins can go thru

wants to be his own side after the split

roman and remus pierced each others ears when they were younger

virgil:

decently tall but slouches a lot which hides it (slouching hes shorter than the twins but still taller than janus) also rarely stands or sits straight at all so it kinda shocked the core sides when he showed them how tall he rly was (queue roman being mad cuz hes actually the shortest of the main four lol)

has stereotypical emo hair and still has some purple dye in it

hot topic skeleton fingerless gloves and muddy sneakers (idk why it just feels right)

tons of random bruises

draws his nails black with sharpie

listens to metal music to calm down. remus got him into a lot of numetal, screamo kinda music when virgil was still one of the others, it was one of the few times theyd hang out and virgil wasnt 100% freaked out by remus

definitely experimented with scene fashion when thomas was a teenager

drinks tons of energy drinks

janus:

shortest ha

yellow eyes

bow wrapped on his hat

long flowy cape and heeled shoes with spats (thats what theyre called right?)

uses the staff from pof as a walking cane

speaks fluent pig latin, remus and logan are the only ones who can somewhat understand what he says (remus cuz hes been around janus so long, and logan wanting to research and understand whatever the hell janus is saying) it also has always drove virgil up the wall cuz hes never been able to get it, janus will start speaking it just to annoy him

only rly relaxes when by himself, always kinda putting on a mask with the others and thomas, regardless of how trustworthy he considers them

constantly coming up with proper plans and schemes, typically wouldnt let remus near them with a 10 foot pole (affectionately)

knows how to lockpick

scared of the ocean

remus: 

broken crown

eyes can go all crazy, pupils can be different sizes and such (there was a cartoon that did this where the eyes would go red and have a ton of rings around the pupils like spirals kinda? i cant find a pic of what im rly visualizing rip i hope that makes sense)

ton of rings (one of em is an eyeball ring)

is like half an inch taller than roman and will never let him live it down

enjoys all the ‘bad’ disney/pixar movies. (cars, home on the range, etc) and like unironically enjoys them. prolly started ironically to mess with roman but he genuinely find those ones the best and cant fathom why theyre disliked (totally not self-indulgent cuz some of those movies are my favorites)

comes up with random weird plans and ropes janus into them whenever possible, janus plays along best he can

somewhat wants to fuse back with roman (even if hes unsure why)

remus and virge used to make fun of roman together all the time

remus is the one who gave virge his septum and gages

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Can you do I request for a young Finn where there father comes back and tell Finn to “ give daddy a hug” and he goes running to Tommy who hugs him back but everyone try’s to tell Finn that Tommy isn’t his dad and he starts to cry and Tommy get all protective .

Hope that makes sense xx

(It’s okay if u don’t :) )

Hey Love,

Thank you for such a great request. I am so so so sorry this took so long. I hope you enjoy it <3

Warnings: Shit dads on the loose.

Tommy had woken up from his precious few hours of sleep with a stone in his stomach. He could sense that something was wrong, he swung his legs over the edge of his bed. The moment his feet touched the ground he felt something swing into motion. Coming downstairs for breakfast Polly was awake which was unusual for this hour. He was normally the first person up. Their eyes locked and he could tell she knew something was off. 

As if it didn't want to keep them waiting too long, bad luck turned up before lunch. His father walked through the front door as if it was still his own house. He smiled at Tommy and right away he knew why his father was back. The only reason his father would show his teeth like that was if there was a chunk of money to bite off. 

“Here from America?” John asked with a slight tone of bitterness in his voice. They all knew the anger that comes from having a life full of mistakes knowing they could have been avoided with some guidance. It ate at all of them in the night. 

“Yes! Here to stay! Johnny Boy!” He moved towards John and he watched as John received the hug awkwardly.  His father knew better than to try and touch him. He nodded at Thomas. His father moved into the kitchen and looked at the family. He avoided Polly’s sharp eyes and moved in on an easier target. 

“Finn! Come give your dad a hug.” He boomed opening his arms. Finn took a look at the man with narrow eyes and a creased brow, he then moved to Tommy his small arms wrapping around his legs. 

“Finn, not Tommy your Da!” Arthur said and he felt Finn flinch. Tommy couldn't stomach the thought of his father touching the small boy. He picked Finn up, even though he was much too big for that sort of thing, and held the boy close to his chest. His eyes presented Arthur with a challenge and his brother quickly abandoned trying to push the boy any farther. 

He was as good as Finn’s dad. No one was walking into his house and telling his little brother what to do. 

“Hand him here, Thomas.” His father had more guts than he thought addressing him directly with outstretched arms. 

“I don’t think Finn knows you well enough for a hug,” Thomas said in a cold tone. “He knows better than to let strange men hold him.” 

His father’s face fell but that look of deranged anger didn't frighten him anymore. He was a man now, and he had faced things far more evil than his father. 

“That’s hardly the case here! Give me my son.” There was an edge to his voice but Tommy was already moving towards the stairs down to the front door. He’d sent Finn to the neighbours then come back for the fight. 

“Not going to happen,” John shouted and Arthur started trying to reason things out. Tommy was surprised when it was Polly who stood up, he turned around and moved to the edge of the doorway. 

“Get out of my house.” Polly stood up from the table and the window blew open filling the room with an icy breeze. He knew she didn't possess real magical capabilities. But in moments like this, he felt that boyish wonder come back.  

His father could see this wasn't going to be the welcome he wanted and backtracked. 

“Look, now,” The man put his hands up, he had always been afraid of Polly. When Tommy’s mother walked into the cut Charlie and Polly had said something to him. It was powerful enough that this was the first time his father had returned. “I want to do some business, that’s all. Help out and pull my weight.” He took a deep breath and his face fell into a fake mask of despair. “It’s lonely out there, with my casino businesses in America I think we can work together to make something really special, Eh? Just hear me out.” 

“No.” Was all Polly had to say, her face and the way her fingers silently drummed across the table were enough to send him out the door. Arthur chased after him and Tommy didn't hold it against him. Whatever father Arthur had remembered from his childhood was not the father Tommy and John had experienced. It was natural for him to think he could still save that man he once knew. 

Tommy didn't waste time running around trying to save people from themselves. He knew life was meant for bigger things. 

He ran a hand along Finn’s back. 

“I don’t want to know him. It’s easier for me if he died like Mum.” Finn whispered. Tommy kept stroking his back. 

“Me too.” He whispered back.

[aceofshitposts]

IT'S JASON'S BIRTHDAY! don't have anything new to post but this has always been dear to my heart so I'm reposting my royalty dabble ❤️

-

The sound of laughter echoes through the polished marble hallways, followed by the sharp sound of shushing then quieter giggling.

“Shut up!” Jason hisses as Tim continues to giggle himself into a fit. “We’re gonna get caught!”

Tim squeaks as Jason clasps a hand over his mouth. The sparkle of mirth in Tim’s eyes is the only warning he gets before Tim licks his hand. He looks all too pleased with himself so Jason pushes him up against the wall.

The resounding clatter of the large, framed painting of Thomas Wayne has both of them freezing as it wobbles on its nail. Both of them whip their heads back towards the ballroom, holding their breath waiting to see if anyone heard.

Jason turns his head back to Tim slowly. Tim looks almost genuinely terrified with his wide eyes and trembling lip. Jason is supposed to be a prince. Calm and composed.

Instead he feels a piece of his heart break loose and he leans forward to bury his head in the junction of Tim’s neck and shoulder to muffle his laughter. Tim relaxes after a beat, wrapping his arms around Jason’s chest.

“What was that about getting caught?” Tim asks. Jason can feel him stroking his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Shut up,” Jason mutters. He can feel the way Tim chuckles, his hand moving further up until it plucks the crown right off Jason’s head.

Jason backs up, face heating slightly at the sight of Tim adorned with his royal crown. It’s just a little too big for him, sitting lopsided on his smooth black hair.

“I’m pretty sure that counts as treason.”

Tim’s smile gets even wider as he says, “what? Go big or go home right?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Well both our Dad’s are gonna kick our asses, your Dad, the damn king is gonna then also kick my ass for kidnapping his son, might as well pile on the charges and go out in a blaze of glory,” Tim says in his most factual voice. The same way he calmly explains math or music.

He looks so handsome like this. With a wicked smile and Jason’s crown sitting on top of his head. Jason could stare into the depths of those eyes forever.

“You’re beautiful,” Jason blurts out, completely inelegant in his delivery.

Tim startles, going a little pink suddenly. “Y-yeah? I’ll have to get my own one of these someday.”

Jason smiles, cupping Tim’s face with both hands and kisses him.

“Yeah, maybe someday.” Jason takes hold of Tim’s hand again and starts tugging him towards his chambers. “C’mon, before they notice I’m missing from my own birthday party.”

Tim’s laughter echoes through the marble halls.

[loving-family-poll]

Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 3

Propaganda under the cut:

Dee/Dennis:

twins and obsessed with each other. Dennis wants to be Dee's controlling trophy husband so bad, and she mothers him as a way to get him dependent

They danced while getting "sextra close", their stepfather when amnesia'd mostly remembers them through telling them not to bang each other, their actors tease it constantly whether it's "Jaime/Cersei of basic comedy" or apparently creators were trying to find a way to get them to have sex

Dee fucked dennis's blow up doll in canon. That is a thing that happened. It was a gang bang situation involving her dad

Toxic codependent 45 year old children I hate them <3

They're twins they hate each other they still work and occasionally live together in their 40s they glued pictures of their faces on a romance novel cover, they got addicted to crack together, they’re the only people who understand each others fucked up date rape strategies etc etc

They're the only person the other deserves. plus they've canonically had: a pregnancy scare; an airplane runway Love Confession; and a perceived last moment on earth Love Confession

They've literally been jerked off together

Lucille/Thomas:

i'm So insane about their dynamic how about you take a dyke in victorian england unable to come to terms with her own sexuality and forced by the negligence and abuse of her family to protect her baby brother at all costs and she falls in love with him. and him with her. and they spend their time scheming and fucking in their crumbling house like the gothic icons they are. i would let them wife me up. are you kidding.

IT'S A MONSTROUS LOVE AND IT MAKES MONSTERS OF US ALL

"You're not his sister." "That's the best part! I am."

[duskyashe]

NaNoWriMo Day #19

[masterlist] [part one]

=============‹«⟨←·•·→⟩»›=============

There are some things, Alfred thought amused, that transcend even death. Bruce was far from the first Wayne to have a slight adoption problem, and his sons won't be the last. Though, he mused as he prepared the tea, this might just be the first time a Wayne has ever adopted a member of the living from beyond the grave. It's certainly the first time one has ever adopted the ghost king.

There was a sudden cry of, "Brucie! There you are!" Followed by a sharp yelp of, "Who the fu—udge are you!" Nice save, master Jason, Alfred thought with a smirk. He gathered everything together to the sounds of overlapping voices, and counted down in his head as he neared the room. 3, 2, 1— "Everyone, calm down! Young man, could you please explain who you are and what you're doing here?" —Right on time, as always, master Bruce. Alfred opened the door just in time to see the wide grin on master Danny's face and catch his eye with a small smile and a nod.

"Master Bruce, I know I raised you better than that, surely you recognize your little brother?" Ahhh, the simple joy of watching an entire family of world class detectives "blue screen", as master Tim would say. Each and every one of them were trying to figure out how this teenager could be Bruce's younger brother, when they all knew what had happened to the elder's parents, and all of them were drawing the wrong conclusions. Alfred hadn't had to fight this hard not to grin since his adoptive son was pulling his hair out because master Richard was swinging from the chandelier. Last week.

"Since when did you adopt a kid?!" "Aww, Alfie, are we not enough for you?" "Now I know where B gets it from..." "Father, I had not realized Pennyworth was behind your serial adoption habits. You are forgiven."

Apparently, master Danny didn't have the same fortitude as Alfred, as he began laughing shortly after the accusations started flying. Alfred let his smile grow more fond at the sound. Thomas and Martha had shared their suspicions about master Danny's home life, and while he could see some of what they meant, it was heartening to know it wasn't as bad as he'd feared.

"No, no, goodness, no, Alfred didn't adopt me! Though," master Danny said, laughing eyes catching his own, "I'm sure if he got to me, first, he would have. No, mom and dad weren't able to make it legal on this side of things, so I don't have the name, but the family ties are just as strong. I am Bruce's little brother, and I am adopted, but the adoption was a little more," here, master Danny changed forms and started floating, "spiritual than normal."

In the silence that followed that proclamation, Alfred heard the whisper of a woman's laugh and a man's chuckle drift past his ears. A soft, "That's my boy," breezed through the air between Alfred and master Danny, causing the young man to brighten and Alfred to chuckle. Oh yes, master Bruce may have been too young to remember, but Thomas and Martha both had wicked senses of humor. The two of them had probably coached master Danny on exactly what to say, what to do, and how. Now, we just have to calm them down long enough to explain everything, he thought with a wry grin. Not the hardest thing I've done, that was most certainly raising master Bruce in the first place.

=============‹«⟨←·•·→⟩»›=============

TADA! I finally had a prompt to continue this storyline with! Of course, it's not the longest I've written, but I've also been dealing with a headache most of the day. Again (⁠-⁠_⁠-⁠;⁠) buuuuut, knowing I can pop something of this quality out in just less than an hour, while dealing with a headache, is definitely something worth knowing, don't you think? (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ yeaaaahhh, I'm trying to not make this a thing...

But! I hope this at least answered a few questions about how Alfred knew about Danny lol if I get around to part three, we'll get some more clarification, but for now, I hope this will do (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

@chaoticmistake and @ectoplasm024 both asked to be tagged if/when I wrote more, so here you go!

Have a good morning/day/night!

[jungle-angel]

Going to pick out the Christmas tree with rhett! please and thank you <333

(cue the aliens from Toy Story) Rachel I must say......you chose......wisely (lol).

You were a little wary about heading out into the middle of nowhere to the Christmas tree farm, but as long as it was with Rhett, you didn't care. You knew the guy like he was a member of your own family and would've done anything to help him out.

"Freezin ma balls off!!" Rhett loudly exclaimed as you pulled into the lot.

You almost spat out the chocolate peppermint coffee you had been drinking. Typical of Rhett to come out with something random like that at the most inopportune times.

Sure enough, there was Dusty Robertson and his young grandkids, the owner of the lot who had known Royal, John Dutton, Thomas Rainwater, Mo and the rest of their cohorts since they were knee high. Rhett never forgot the first time you had introduced Amy to him, the little one thinking that he was indeed Santa from the bushy white beard and wire rimmed glasses.

"Well, well, if it ain't Rhett and (Y/n) Abbott," Dusty greeted happily, shaking Rhett's hand. "How ya'll doin this afternoon?"

"Better'n ever Dusty," Rhett answered. "How's Rosa doin?"

"Much better'n where she was before," Dusty answered. "Just needs to keep that leg'o hers up and she'll be good to go. Now whatcha lookin for this afternoon? Balsam? Cedar? Blue Fir?"

"Whatever's fullest and smells nicest," Rhett chuckled.

"Well then I'll take ya'll over here and show ya," Dusty told him.

You and Rhett listened intently to Dusty. There was no doubt that the man knew his trees and knew them well, almost as if he could speak to them and hear their words. Your eyes fell on a pretty little tree while the men were talking and while Dusty's grandkids all ran about and chased each other in the snow. It was such a pretty little thing, full as could be with the longest and softest needles you had ever seen, brushing under your fingertips like paintbrush bristles.

"Rhett what about this one?" you asked.

Rhett gently rubbed the needles in between his fingers and inhaled their sharp scent. "Not bad, not bad at all," he said.

"That there's a Western White Pine," Dusty explained. "Every year I give some to the smokejumper and the hotshot crews and they go out and plant'em after the fires are done."

You and Rhett were a little more than surprised to find that the tree hadn't yet dropped its pinecones. "What d you think sweetheart?" Rhett asked. "Think it's worth it?"

"So worth it," you told him.

"We'll take this one Dusty," Rhett told the old cowboy.

"Alright c'mon back with me, I've gotta saw ya'll can use if you need it," Dusty said.

You, Rhett and Dusty worked to get the tree as best you could and when the last cut had been made, you paid the old cowboy and loaded the tree into the bed of the truck.

"Can't wait to see the look on Ma and Dad's faces when we get home," Rhett said excitedly.

"Your dad is gonna flip when he sees it," you told him.

Rhett leaned in and gave you a kiss. "Love you sweetheart," he said.

"I love you too Rhett," you answered, hooking your arms around his bicep and resting your head on his shoulder for the long ride home.

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

“You poor thing.”

“You poor thing.”

The face of an angel swam into view, clearing the dark clouds that had rudely taken up in Jamie’s vision.

Mummy.

”Hi mummy,” Jamie said, a smile spreading uninvited across his lips at the face of his mother.

He tried to search his mind to find when mummy had come over, but he couldn’t remember. His thoughts slipped like water through his hands. Was he home? He must be. But which home?

Was he in his Richmond house? The one with the balloon dog he loved. Closest he’d get to a real dog until he retired. The house with the gun lamps that looked fucking mint in his sparse living area. His bedroom with the floral headboard Keeley convinced him to buy, the one he liked to watch her arch her back against and fan her hair against.

Or was he at the Manchester flat? The new one in the posh building with the views of the city and the doorman and the fancy gym that he never used because he was always at the Etihad campus? But the building was new, and it had air con and Thomas, the doorman, always greeted him with a smile no matter if City won or lost or if he spent the match on the bench or even when he came home with blood dripping down the side of his face.

Maybe he was home, at mummy’s. Maybe Simon was downstairs cooking and he would turn over and see Roy Kent and Keeley Jones on his wall. Only they were just Roy and Keeley now. And one was a knob and the other he loved, but they weren’t on his wall anymore, they were sitting across a table from him and they were together now weren’t they? Another fucking mind game from Richmond.

Jamie looked around trying to find where he was but everything behind mummy was a blinding white.

“It’s okay, baby,” she cooed as she brushed a hand through his hair.

Jamie leaned into her hand. Mummy was here things were okay.

”Mummy,” he said again.

”Aw does the ickle baby want his mummy?”

The voice cut through Jamie like a jagged blade, sharp and burning hot. The voice wasn’t mummy’s. She filtered from his vision, disappearing like smoke. He reached up to grab her but she evaporated in his grasp.

“Mummy,” another voice sneered and laughed.

Jamie hated the way the voices said it, like it was a slur, not the honorific of the best woman he knew.

“Christ, Jamie, when’re you gonna grow the fuck up?”

Something rough hit him in the side, but that wasn’t what worried Jamie the most. what worried Jamie the most was the voice. Jamie recognised that voice the same way he recognised Mummy’s. But whereas Mummy’s voice meant safety and comfort and love, this voice meant danger and fear and bruises.

Dad.

Fuck.

Mummy wasn’t here. She wouldn’t be here would she? Jamie hadn’t talked to her since he left for Richmond, leaving behind Manchester and everything in it, good and bad. Wasn’t even sure she knew he was back with the way she only followed City if he was playing. Couldn’t blame her if he was being honest. He’d ignored her calls for weeks before he left. Easier than explaining the bits he didn’t want to explain.

Mummy never believed him after all.

Now Richmond was relegated.

Roy Kent’s career was likely over.

And Jamie Tartt? Jamie was alone with a monster.

Like always.

[theygotlost]

um so. here it is 👉👈 I've never written a fanfic before let alone posted one so I'm shy please be nice to me 😭

Son of Sam

After little Sammy has a disciplinary incident at school, Vimes finds a more enriching environment for his son.

G rated, 2,011 words, just vimes bein a dad :)

A rather nervous-looking young messenger was waiting at the door when Vimes got home.

“Er… Can I help you?”

The messenger startled into a stiff salute. “Your grace!” he said smartly. “I bring a message from the Primary Academy of Ankh! It has been requested that… erm…” he fumbled open the roll of parchment he had been holding. “The parents-slash-guardians of the student, er, Samuel Ramkin Vimes II, come to the office of the headmistress at once. We have a coach ready outside for you already, your grace,” he added as he rolled the parchment back up.

Vimes scoffed. ‘The Second’… Please. A title like that nearly made you forget the boy’s only eight years old. “Alright, what’s happened this time?”

“I don’t know, your grace. I’m only here to deliver the message.”

“Fine. And you really want both of us?” said Vimes, already making his way around the side of the house. “Sybillllll?” he called, in that sing-song voice used by all husbands everywhere looking for their wives.

He heard the explosion before he had even turned the corner. The backyard filled with a sharp, acrid, chemical smell that nearly would have made him retch if he wasn’t so accustomed to it already. He sighed at the charred black rosette that now decorated the lawn. Beyond it, in a wider blast radius, were… other bits of things.

A bulky figure nearly six and a half feet tall emerged from the dragon pen, decked head to toe in leather armor. “Oh dear, and he had nearly recovered from his case of slab throat…” she mumbled from behind her welding mask. She ducked back into the dragon pen for the shovel, too distracted to notice her husband on the periphery of the yard.

Vimes strode directly toward the carriage out front. “She’s busy. I’ll go by myself,” he said decisively to the messenger as he brushed past. The messenger considered protesting, but thought the better of it.

—

Vimes was ushered into a room half the size but almost as austere as the Oblong Office. Little Sam pouted in an adult-sized chair, grumpily swinging his legs back and forth. Vimes knew that look: the boy was in trouble for something. Sulking in the other chair with a bandaged nose was a boy who appeared the same age, though bigger-boned. Both of his parents were doting over him like a pair of storks brooding a rather large, and rather spoiled, egg. Vimes had been forced to socialize with these people at many a banquet or some such event, or at least this type of people, if not this particular couple. They all blended together in his mind anyway. He had yet to have a conversation with one of them that ended satisfactorily for both parties. 

The headmistress greeted him primly from behind her desk and motioned for him to sit in the chair beside his son. “Thank you for coming, your grace. Her ladyship…”

“Couldn’t make it,” Vimes responded curtly. He swore he heard the other boy’s mother exhale derisively through her nose.

“I have called you here,” the headmistress continued, “because your Samuel has gotten into an… altercation with his classmate.” She spoke as though she were handling her words like a very fragile, very expensive heirloom vase.

Vimes turned to little Sam. “You got into a fight?” he asked, more conversationally than disapprovingly.

“I should hardly call that a fair fight!” the other boy’s father interjected. “It took two teachers to pull your little devil off our Thomas! He nearly bit his nose off!” Thomas began to whimper, and his mother cradled him in her arms while staring daggers at Vimes.

Vimes raised his eyebrows as he sized up the victim. He was taller and stockier than his attacker, but apparently that hadn’t helped him much. He turned back to his son, still without any trace of anger. “Why’d you do that, Sammy?”

“It doesn’t matter why he—” Thomas’s father began, but the headmistress held up a hand. “Let him answer,” she commanded.

“He took my spelling sheets from my homework daddy, ‘n he said that my daddy’s nuthin’ but a dirty scoundrel, said I’m ruinin’ the school ‘cause I’m dirty ‘n dumb like him, ‘n then he ripped all my papers up,” little Sam explained sullenly. Thomas whimpered again.

Vimes looked up to meet the father’s eyes with hawklike focus. “He really said that, did he? I wonder where he could have possibly gotten that idea from.”

The father’s features bubbled with the kind of indignation reserved for those who have just been accused of something they actually did. “Slander!” he blurted. “Not only is your son an aggressor, but a liar as well!”

The duke of Ankh stood up. “You’re calling my son a liar, is that it?” he nearly snarled the words.

“You grace—” the headmistress began.

“No, go on,” Vimes continued. “You think Sammy made up that little story, just to make you look bad? Your precious little Thomas would never have done something like that, oh no, because you’ve raised him properly, haven’t you?” He was practically toe to toe with the boy’s father now. He squared his shoulders and drew himself up to his full height, which unfortunately was still shorter than his opponent. He cracked a few menacing knuckles.

“Daddy, mama said you’re not s’posed to fight the other grownups at school anymore,” Sammy whined from his seat.

“I won’t be threatened by the likes of you,” the man spat. He leveled a self-important finger at VImes’s nose. “I won’t tolerate it. You and your son both owe us an apology for the injuries you have caused.”

“Oh, I’ll give you some injuries to apologize for, all right.”

The bureaucratic voice of the headmistress pierced through his haze of bloodlust like a letter opener. “Your grace, that is enough. To prevent another incident like this, you need to set a good example for your son. Children learn by imitating their parents.”

“Yes, I’m sure they do,” Vimes said pointedly without breaking eye contact with the nobleman. He took his son’s hand and led him out the door. “Come on, Sammy. We’re going home.”

“This isn’t over, Sir Samuel!” he heard the father call after him. “Her ladyship will be hearing of this, and she will not be pleased!”

Don’t I know it, Vimes thought.

—

Lady Sybil was, as predicted, not very pleased. “First I have to lay poor Lord Sharptalon Brightspark Blazeworthy VI to rest this afternoon, and now I hear both of you have gotten into a scuffle,” she sighed, and idly stirred her tea.

“News travels fast,” Vimes grumbled, not looking up from his own teacup.

“The headmistress was right, you know. He takes after you. He sees his father throw a punch or kick a shin, and figures that violence will solve all his problems.”

“It usually does.”

“Sam.”

“Sorry.”

“I spoke to the boy’s mother. She swears up and down that she has no idea why young Thomas would say those things about you.”

“‘Course she did. It’s all about appearances with these people. They’ll say whatever they want behind their expensive closed doors, but none of ‘em have got the spine to say it to your face.”

“As much as I agree with you, Sam, ‘these people’ are our people, even if you hate to think of them that way.”

“Still, good to know Sammy can hold his own in a fight.”

“Dear, I don’t think you’re taking the right lesson from this.”

Vimes grunted noncommittally.

“He just needs a different outlet for his aggression,” Sybil continued. “Something more…productive. Like an organized sport. The academy offers some rather robust athletic programs he could get into.”

Yes, organized sports… Sammy could wipe the floor with all those spoiled little brats, that was for sure. He needed a sport, but perhaps one that was less, well, organized. 

—

“Daddy, you still won’t say where we’re going,” young Sam lamented.

“We’re almost there. Just a few more streets.”

After a few moments, Vimes heard the little voice from about twenty or thirty feet behind him. “Daddy, wait up! You’re going too fast!”

Vimes stopped. Damn. Without thinking, he had fallen into his normal Proceeding step.

“I’m tired of walking,” Sammy panted as he caught up.

Vimes almost laughed. Tired of walking? Then he realized. “You know, I ought to teach you how to walk properly. You swing your foot forward, like this. Get it right and you can keep going all day.”

Together they Proceeded, hand in hand this time to prevent another separation, to their destination. There it was…

Cockbill Street.

Gods, when was the last time I was here? thought Vimes. An investigation had led him back here some nine or ten years ago, but before that it must have been decades. The same peeling paint, the same worn cobbles, even the hopscotch game was still there…

“Where are we?” little Sam asked impatiently. “Looks like justa buncha ol’ houses.”

…And this was the first time the boy had ever seen it.

“Son, your old dad grew up in one of these old houses.”

“You used to live here?” Sammy looked doubtful. “They’re not as nice as our house.”

His father sighed. “Right you are. You’re awful lucky that your mother’s got a big fancy house and money to send you to a big fancy school. But you and I both know a big fancy school ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it?”

The boy’s face looked blank. A chorus of shouts and hollers turned his attention to a particularly rough-and-tumble football match taking place down the street, mostly boys a few years older than him.

Vimes nodded toward the game. “They don’t let you play like that at the Academy of Ankh,” he explained.

Sammy considered this as more shrieks and curses echoed off the decaying edifices. “But I dunno any of ‘em,” he pointed out. 

“Doesn’t matter. Cockbill Street boys’ll toss a ball around with any little bugger who can force his way into a match. Just get in there and start running around, you’ll pick it up.”

He still looked unsure, but he ambled up to the pack as they were taking a time-out, as there looked to be some sort of hot dispute between the teams. He addressed a boy who was currently wrestling another into a headlock. “Lemme play,” he said simply. The boy in the headlock used the momentary distraction to wrench free and scamper off, sending a few other players to break off in pursuit. 

“Who’re you?”

“My name’s Sammy, ‘n I wanna join. I can kick a ball real far.”

The older boy looked incredulous. He turned around to give a consulting glance to the others, who shrugged. “I s’pose we could use another player, since STUPID JOEY’S A THIEVIN’ BASTARD!” He addressed this last comment to the direction that Joey had run. “Jus’ try to keep up, since you look pretty small,” he added. And that was that.

Vimes leaned back against a crumbling wall and, more out of habit than anything else, lit a cigar. He watched the game intently. Indeed, young Sam had ingratiated himself seamlessly, dashing and darting and hollering to keep up with the fierce competition. Once he took a nasty spill, tumbling face first onto the cobblestones, and Vimes sucked his teeth sharply. But before he could move in to help his son, the boy jumped up with an alarming fierceness, completely unbothered by his bleeding nose and scraped knees, and made a mad dash to get back into the action.

Tonight he would be brought home covered in scrapes and bruises and a tear or two in his clothes, Vimes knew. Sybil wouldn’t exactly be overjoyed, but he figured he could convince her it’s no more dangerous than herding spontaneously explosive dragons as a hobby. 

Vimes couldn’t help but smile. Whenever little Sammy got knocked down, a vengeful little gleam sparkled in his eyes, and just like a certain someone, he got right back up.

[manawari]

I think about what all the uncles/godfathers Su-ho (could've) had:

Woo Jin-chul - responsible, mature, barely shows up due to his work, but if Su-ho happens to stop by, he will let him sit on his lap and cuddle then watches him play around.

Yoo Jin-ho - personal favorite, gives Su-ho toys and plays with him on the floor, spoils him especially when Jin-woo isn't around, and makes him laugh.

Baek Yoon-ho - sends tiger plushies to Su-ho, sits him on his broad shoulders, lets Su-ho call him "Kitty" or "Big Kitty", watches movies with him, and teaches him how to "deal" with bullies.

Choi Jong-in - gives Su-ho some new clothes, fixes his hair if he notices it's messy, the protective uncle, and helps him with homework.

Thomas Andre - a huge softie around Su-ho, tells him various stories, teaches him how to speak English, gives weapons in his birthday (which Hae-in had to hide before her son sees them and fawns over the sharp objects to no end), and also teaches him how to "deal" with bullies.

Liu Zhigang - gives him panda plushies, is gentle around Su-ho, and the kind of uncle who gets proud of him over basically anything.

Min Byung-gyu - picks Su-ho up from daycare for the sole reason to spoil him with ice cream afterward, helps him with history, one of the "safe" people Jinhae trusts to watch over their son for the whole day, and makes him delicious food.

Lim Tae-gyu - the "chill" uncle, will accidentally blurt out a swear word and panics when Su-ho hears it, sings kiddie songs with him, the supportive uncle especially when he learns that Su-ho tries out sports, and playfully teases him.

Lennart Niermann - also responsible and mature, and will basically smile at anything Su-ho does and he doesn't think no other baby will make him fawn but Su-ho himself.

And of course, there are the aunts/godmothers!

Lee Ju-hee - BEST AUNT! Su-ho's favorite auntie besides Jin-ah and Esil, will mend his wounds and makes him something to eat for comfort, hugs Su-ho until he starts complaining that he can't breathe, and sings him lullabies.

Sung Jin-ah - spoils her nephew shamelessly even though Jin-woo keeps warning her, embarrasses his dad, and has an entire album filled with photos and videos of her nephew.

Esil Radiru - again, spoils the heck out of Su-ho and makes him pretty clothes to wear, helps Hae-in when she was pregnant with Su-ho, and never misses an important event in Su-ho's life.

Laura - responsible and is quite strict when Su-ho starts being naughty and makes up for his pouting face by giving him sweets.

[rainymoodlet]

Kiss Me in Komorebi 🌹 pre-show

An Exclusive Interview with the Bachelor! (part four) including a never-before-seen picture of Daniel Taylor's family!

pictured from left to right, birth order in brackets. Thomas (5), Matthew (7), Alan (3), Sofia, Rachel (2), Jordan (6), and Cheatham (4)

prev. | beg. | next.

more about the family below the cut! 🌸

Dan's family has been incredibly off-the-radar until now. He kept them almost entirely a secret during his earlier career, and only Jordan (a rising Simstagram model) has been exposed to the public eye and featured in his SimToks. He's not supposed to have favorites but his baby siblings, Jordan and Matthew, are definitely his favorites.

Daniel's father, Lt. Daniel Taylor I was an intensely abusive man, rigidly militaristic and a drunk to boot. Dan was the firstborn, and his namesake. Every sibling that was born after him was automatically under his protection, and he values each and every one of them above himself.

If you'd like to read more of Dan's history, you'll find his entire history written here, on his old profile. His history is not public knowledge: I just love writing and was too impatient to reveal it slowly!

Sofia Taylor (nee Perales) || Dan's mother. She can do no wrong in his eyes, and is literally the most important woman on Earth to him. Getting along with and being respectful to her will be very important. She suffered immense abuse at the hands of Dan's father and put up with it for years for the safety and advancement of her children. Dan never blamed her for anything, and the minute he got enough money from his show, he bought her a cottage in the rolling Henford countryside. Dan pays for everything, and she wants for nothing - which is, as he says, how she should live out the rest of her days forever.

Rachel Howard (nee Taylor) || The second-born. She is shrewd and sharp-witted, and very much a product of her father's stern household. Though she has a warm smile and a soft touch, the scar on her lip and the hard steel in her eyes belies the kind advice she's wan to give at any given moment. Rachel stepped in to take care of her siblings alongside Alan when Dan was shipped off to military school, and the three eldest siblings have a very close (if incredibly easy-to-aggravate-one-another) bond. Has two twins, a boy and a girl. Was so eager to shed her last name that she legally changed it once her boyfriend proposed.

Alan Taylor || The third-born. Alan has all of Dan's taciturn stoicism, but he's been softened by years of fatherhood and a quiet life lived in peace with his husband and children. Alan admired his eldest brother immensely, and was the one who felt the most abandoned when Dan left (seeing as he became the next Oldest Boy in the household). It took a long time for the two to reconcile after Dan's small rise to fame, but the two would say they're even closer now than they were before Dan left. Literally the most dad of all dads - if Dan never wanted to give his own children a chance to face the cruelties of the world, than Alan wanted his own children to be able to experience nothing but love and kindness that the world has to offer. Has three kids, two girls and one boy.

Cheatham Taylor || The fourth-born. An absolute rascal, Cheatham is the Uncle Bumi of the family. Largely ignored by their father for his weakness of health in youth, Cheatheam began acting out and rebelling at an early age to garner any sort of attention from the Lieutenant. He and Dan were at odds for the majority of his youth, and it wasn't until Dan was forced from the house that Cheatham was forced to confront their reality. Cheatham spent a few years on the road with Daniel before taking over the family ranch (and turning it into a weed farm, just to spite the old man) He's a spitfire and has the best laugh in the world, and though they are polar opposites, Dan finds him to be the easiest to confide in. He is happily married and has two children, both boys.

Thomas Taylor || The fifth-born. The Clark Kent of the family, Thomas was the Lieutenant's "second attempt" at a Proper Son. Thomas was a sweetheart from the moment he was born, and though his father taught him all the things he'd taught Dan, bullied him and beat him like he'd bullied and beat Dan, he never lost that innate sweetness and goodness that kept him Thomas. Sweet, simple Thomas. He was young when Dan was sent away, but insisted on sending him letters every chance he got - and Dan saved every one. He owns a garage in Starlight Shores, and he and Dan have beers and watch football together on the weekends.

Jordan Perales || The sixth-born, Matthew's twin. An aspiring Simstagram model and the baby sister of the family, Jordan was very young when Daniel was sent away, but she remembered him incredibly fondly. Daniel was even more protective of his younger siblings in his father's later years, as the man seemed to get impossibly worse as time went on, and both Jordan and Matthew were constantly at his side. The two of them view Daniel as their father figure, and he and Jordan are particularly close: she's the one who convinced him to go on Jupiter York's bachelorette, and she's the one who convinced him to try The Bachelor Challenge for himself. You'll want to bond with all of his siblings, sure, but Jordan is the one you'll want to be friends with the most. She changed her name the second she turned eighteen.

Matthew Taylor || The seventh-born, Jordan's twin. Matthew is the youngest and final Taylor, a surprise baby hiding behind his sister in the ultrasounds. Matthew struggled the most as a child in the Taylor household, which is saying something: but to put it in perspective, Daniel took more punches, beatings, and bloodied noses for Matthew than any other child in the house. Daniel holds the world in his palms for Matthew, and the two are incredibly close. Matthew is trans, and he knew from a very young age - which, as you can imagine, didn't exactly sit well with the Lieutenant. As Daniel will have the public know, Matthew is a boy, was always a boy, and if his deadname or the traumatic history of his transition was ever made public, Daniel would personally John Wick whoever was responsible.