#fathers money

[valtsv]

best thing about visiting old churches is when they pave the floor with tombstones

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Overindulgent father Astarion who tells his children they’re allergic to any kind of jewellery that isn’t made of the highest grade Dwarven crafted gold. 

It’s not even because Astarion might have a certain aversion to silver, no, he just raises his children to have standards, thank you very much. 

And it doesn’t end with shiny things, oh no… 

The Ancunín brood is known to be dressed in perfectly woven cotton, silk and soft leather clothes, no matter the occasion.

They’re seen playing with expensive toys, reading artfully illustrated books that certainly belong behind thick glass, not in children’s sticky hands. 

There’s even talk that one of the children is not as naturally inclined to music as his parents claim him to be, surely his lyre must be enchanted—the instrument certainly looks extravagant enough! 

And then there’s always this air of effortless haughtiness surrounding the Ancunín children whenever their nannies and servants are parading them through town as if they were perfect little dolls; objects to show off the wealth their parents acquired in quite the mysterious ways. 

So, it’s no secret that Astarion and Tav are pampering their children—some might say they’re even spoiling them rotten. 

And maybe they are, especially Astarion.

But he doesn’t see why he should raise them any other way, nor does he want to.  

When it comes to his children, Astarion has his own standards, and as long as Tav agrees with him nothing really matters. 

Because, these people, they don’t know anything about the Ancuníns. 

They don’t know that it’s not unusual for Astarion to wash out dirt and mud and strawberry stains from comically small finery, leaving behind only the memories of a day spent playing in the garden, chasing after ducks, picking flowers, lazing in the sun…

That any holes and tears the children’s clothes might suffer are quickly mended, making them look as good as new in no time. 

Nor do they know that Astarion doesn’t mind fashioning a brand new dress to match that of a favourite doll, either. Or to embroider a pretty vest with the likeness of that stray cat the children seem to adore, although their father would rather they don’t touch the mangy animal. 

No, those people know nothing at all...

“Not tired!” Astarion’s youngest cries; the vehement denial of her father’s earlier accusation is cut short by a telltale yawn.

The room still smells of fragrant lavender oil and peaches even when the bath water has already grown tepid, just one or two degrees above what Astarion would consider too cold to be enjoyable. 

Amused, he raises an eyebrow at the protesting toddler before he lifts her out of the copper bathtub with little effort. 

By now, he knows every step of this game.

“Tut-tut, my dear child, what did mama and I say?” Astarion kneels, quickly wrapping a soft towel around the child to keep her warm. “We only tell lies outside of this house.”

Unfazed by her father’s gentle scolding, the girl crosses her arms that haven’t yet lost their puppy fat across her chest, reminding Astarion a little too much of a very displeased Tav. 

Suppressing a sigh, he leans back to consider the pouting child, wondering what could possibly be upsetting her this time—the list is growing longer by the day, after all. 

“What’s the matter, dear?” Astarion asks gently, hoping it’s something easily fixable as it’s growing rather late. 

“Want apple!”

Decades ago, Astarion might’ve rolled his eyes—he knows exactly which stupid apple the child wants, it’s been haunting him all day—but once he started to treat his children’s problems as if they were his own, his life has grown somewhat easier. 

“Why, let’s get an apple on our way to bed, then. Would that be alright, Your Highness?” 

The girl promptly nods her head, allowing Astarion to pat her hair dry before dressing her in a clean night dress. 

She rests her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he carries her first to the kitchen to grab a fragrant apple and a knife, then to her bedroom where they settle on the cosy window seat, just like they do every night.

Soft moonlight is pouring through the windows; the child giggles at the way the knife’s blade is catching the silver light as Astarion peels and cuts the apple into even pieces.

“Here you go,” he finally says, giving the slice of apple one last examining look before surrendering it to the impatient little hands reaching for it. “A sweet treat for my little sweet. Doesn’t it taste so much better when we don’t eat it off the floor, darling?” And when it’s not crawling with ants…

The appeased toddler nibbles at the juicy fruit as Astarion carefully combs through her still-damp curls. 

Her hair’s getting long, he notices, knowing that taking care of it will become more time-consuming each day. 

Once, Astarion would’ve thought this task tedious, brushing out hair that’s not his own, oiling and braiding it for no other reason than knowing his children enjoy him doing it. 

But that’s why he loves doing it in the first place, he supposes.

Astarion can tell by his toddler’s heartbeat that sleep is about to claim her. 

The half-eaten slice of apple is still clutched in her little fist as he cradles the child to his chest, slowly rising from the window seat to put her to bed. 

He’s just about to lay the child down that the fruit drops to the floor, his daughter’s tiny hand clutching at his shirt instead.

“Thank you, papa,” she mumbles, more asleep than awake.

Astarion pauses.

He breathes in the clean, yet unique scent of the little girl that is forever engraved in his brain, the same way he knows under which exact constellation she was born. When she took her first steps, what her first word was. Soon, he will have to memorise her favourite colour, and what she likes to eat when dirty apples won’t be that appealing anymore. 

By now, Astarion knows this game by heart, knows that with every year that passes, he has something new to learn about his children.

And sometimes he wonders what it’s like to grow up with clean bed sheets and full bellies. Sleep filled with naught but warmth and happy memories. Ever open doors and tears that are dried by tender kisses. Living in a house where mistakes and anger are welcomed, safe. 

He wonders what it’s like for his children to know that their father’s love comes without conditions. Not now and not ever. 

Sitting down on the bed, Astarion holds his youngest a little closer to his chest, unwilling to let go of her, yet. 

He’s often accused of spoiling his children when most people can only just grasp the very surface of his love for them, the bare minimum of what he feels for his one and only, precious family. 

These baseless accusations are as unimportant to Astarion as the people voicing them.

He’s raising his children to have standards, wants them to take their father’s love for granted, to accept nothing less but pure devotion.

It’s the only way Astarion knows how to love them, the only way that comes most naturally to him. 

Astarion looks down at his little girl, now fast asleep, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. 

After all these years—all these children—he’s still in awe watching them sleep in his arms as if no harm in the world could ever befall them.

And it won’t—not if Astarion can help it. 

“No, thank you, my heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the crown of the toddler’s head. 

When it comes to his children, Astarion holds himself to the highest standard.

[watmalik]

Hugh Jackman must be stopped.

[feeshies]

send any criticisms to my venmo thx

[floatyflowers]

Dark Platonic! Rich Father x Reader

Cecil, your father, was a teen dad, working two jobs to provide for you until he decided to take a loan from the bank to open a small business.

It only took him six years to become the richest man in the country.

All that happened, because Cecil wants you to have the best life.

No father wants their child to live in poverty.

As you grow older, you realise how your father became more possessive and controlling.

He homeschooled you and paid for the best tutors in fear that someone might take advantage of you.

Cecil would provide you with the best food, education, and clothes you need.

However, if you want an allowance, then you have to earn it by...

Respecting him and doing as he tells you.

Going with him to the company and helping him with paper work.

Just so he can keep watching you.

If you misbehave, you will be locked up for a week without any connection to the outside world, you will only receive your meals.

You cannot go out without him or without being surrounded by at least three bodyguards.

He tried to be your friend, so you don't have any friends, but it seems like you always felt uneasy in his presence.

At the age of fifteen, you called child protective services on him after your father threatened to lock you up for a whole month if you didn't cut off your friendships.

Unfortunately, CPS did nothing because Cecil managed to convince them with his money that you are mentally unstable.

"I'm really disappointed in you, you have lost my trust, (Y/n)"

[urfavsillydoll]

It’s definitely not the last time I’m posting this outfit

I love it too much 🤍🪽

[starwrighter]

I lied about only making one ship post :/

Thank you @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 your prompts fueled this one. Specifically this one.

Dead serious soulmate au but in separate universes.

In the DP universe soulmates are widespread with pretty much everyone having one. In the past soulmates were only seen as purely romantic and it was abhorrent if you didn't have one, rejected/cut off your soulmate or they died before you.

Soulmates still heavily impact DP universes present society but not in the same ways as before. Current day Soulmates can be platonic or romantic and while it wasn't as demonized as it was in the past cutting off a soulmate is still an incredibly taboo.There are different types of soulmates (ie the red string, skin writing, telepathy, shared sensation,..)

Danny shares pain with his soulmate. While he can't exactly communicate directly with his soulmate he has the ability to heal them a little through the bond. Danny's soulmate was always getting hurt somehow or another to the point he had an unnaturally high pain tolerance by the time he turned 14.

His soulmate hasn't ever healed him back and sometimes Danny forgot he existed at all. As a half ghost it was so much easier to heal his soulmate; with just a surge of energy he could completely heal any injuries his soulmate acquired and go back to whatever it was he was doing before his soulmate got hurt.

Danny was fine with forgetting his soulmate existed. Whoever was on the other end clearly didn't want anything to do with him considering they couldn't even pitch in to heal a papercut. He would still heal his soulmate when he needed it but he just gave up hoping for any kind of relationship with him.

On the DC side of things Soulmates are extremely rare and little to nothing is know about them. Damian of course is one of the very few people who had a soulmate; the small blue soulmark on his chest was proof of that. Damian's soulmark was ignored treated like it didn't exist at all until the day it started healing him.

Then his soulmate was his everything. His soulmate was someone he needed to protect with every fiber of his being and someone he desperately needed to find. Damian kept these beliefs even after he left the league and especially when his soulmates healing powers got stronger.

After years of searching the last place he expected to meet his soulmate was some dingy alleyway...

He could finally start courting him.

[fallout-lou-begas]

david lynch look like he's about to put a bomb collar on me as part of a mastermind plot to rob the sierra madre casino

[rainnydayzz]

The duality of ghost hunting

No cause I played the 3rd game first and was put off by how passive agressive Gadd was to Luigi, only to be more surprised by the fact that he was actually quite nice to him in the previous games?? Like what happened between the second and third game💀💀

[datura-tea]

the real treasure of the sierra madre (the head of the man who put a bomb collar on you)

[sunlit-mess]

noticing in your vents—

is your sister okay too?

We laugh, sure, but we both know we're not ok.

[moistmailman]

Father Elijah: I’m coming down there, don’t touch any of the treasure or you’re dead!

Courier 6, shaped like 37 golden bricks: :)

[fisheito]

(3) remaining

[jichanxo]

Help me, Lord, from these fantasies in my head / They ain't ever been safe ones

[toffee32]

Doodled Father Elijah with little Veronica yesterday. I'm emo since I finished Dead Money. My heart was indeed left in Sierra Madre, much to reflect on... ''do you think this obsessive psycopath ever felt warmth in his heart from experiencing real love?'' I asked on twitter when I posted this over there. I got many interesting responses that have my eyes still tearing up.

[psykersomatic]