#single mother oc

[leal-hound]

idk pain at 1 am. being rebuilt from the corpses of your clan really takes your distinguishing features from you

[veinsfullofstars]

what happened with the ghost pepper fiasco???? 👀

—✨

Oh, you know. Just the Bad Decision Duo making some bad decisions in the name of one-upmanship. Like always.

One very brief pepper-eating contest later…

They end up bedridden for a whole week after that, and grounded by their horrified parents for even longer. Doesn't stop Bow from bragging about the win, though, even into the present day. Dedede tries his very best to pretend it never happened (and steers clear of ghost peppers from then on).

**Suffice to say, they are dummies, and children, and fictional characters. It should go without saying, of course, but please do not try this at home.**

Sketch started 06/29/24, finished 07/01/24.

[eugeneplace]

Little question: Do you plan to do more Branch art as a single father? I loved the AU

Oh yeah, yeah! Sorry, WDT is very um... demanding. But I haven't abandoned any of my other Aus! This one in particular is in a process of ✨Glow Up✨

Here, a little sneak peek

I wanted him to look more like Grandma Rosiepuff, that's why his hair is tied in a bun. Oh! And I had an idea! I'm gonna make Branch's child be the result of a one-night stand with [redacted]

[s0ckh3adstudios]

theoretically there should be 8 pawnos

HE'S NOT READY FOR THIS!!!!!

[theshmeepking]

he is 6 years old

[astoldbychae]

Marguerite and her siblings; Jerrica (Left), Trace (Middle), & Dayana (Right)

[L to R] Jerrica, Dayana, Marguerite, & Trace

Marguerite is the eldest sibling, then its Jerrica, Trace, and Dayana.

[vaultureculture]

Brokenmarrow

[skwtches]

been thinking a lot about some of my Rabbit family headcanons and ideas lately, so here’s an attempt from a while back at designing my take on his mother, Daisy—a fastidious farmer of whom Rabbit inherited quite a bit from in terms of both looks and attitude.

[roosterbruiser]

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄 — 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄. 𝐑𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐅𝐔𝐋. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟏.𝟒𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓, 𝐖𝐕 & 𝐒𝐓. 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃��𝐘, 𝐌𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐌𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍

It’s still strange that she’s here. And even more strange that she will be here, in your arms, forever. 

You’re gazing down at her, just a tiny thing between your legs, still plush and swollen from the arduous task of being birthed. There’s tufts of silky tawny locks adorning her head, which shine beneath the fluorescents above you. She’s sleeping, his tiny wet lips puckered, and her eyelids gleam with the antibiotic ointment they smeared across her skin. 

You didn’t think she would be like this--perfect. Utterly and completely perfect. Not even in the way all babies are perfect--ten fingers, ten toes, chubby cheeks, sweet nose, distended belly--but in a way that you never even considered until she came into your arms. You recognized her instantaneously--like you’ve known her forever. 

When you saw her face for the first time, her eyes wide open and her lips wobbling and her fingers flexed, you were stunned. It was strange how suddenly familiar she was. She was like the first flower to bloom in the springtime--a tiny and delicate thing, fragrance perfuming the air surrounding her, a sure sign that sunnier days are coming. 

The entire time you were swelling with her, growing more and more frightened with each day that passed, you didn’t even consider keeping her. Even found a nice couple up in Wyoming to take her for you. But then she cried for the first time and you, in all your exhaustion and delirium and emotion, swore that you could hear bluebirds singing in the sound of her screams. 

And now the little creature is squirming in her sleep, just tiny involuntary movements, a whine dying on her lips. This tiny thing, this little itty bitty girl, is what got you into all this trouble. 

How could something so utterly faultless bring you such anguish?

“You know what’s gonna happen if you keep her,” your mama said to you, her usual softness dead and gone. Her face, usually adorning a lazy smile and too much blush and blanched brows, was harder than you’d ever seen it. “Don’t make us do it, Indigo. Don’t make us do it. You gotta--you have to--it’s…it’s only right to let her go.” 

“I can’t, mama,” you’d said softly to her, weeping. You were holding your daughter against your chest, still reeling and sore and tearful, as you gazed up at your mama beside you. “I can’t--I can’t just let her go. She’s my baby.”

“You can and you should,” your mama said. And then her brows hooked and she frowned. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, staring down at her flip-flops against the distinctly hospital tiles. “Not even--not only just because of that couple you’re surely letting down in Wyoming, but because…Jesus, baby. You know the rules. And I’m not gonna--we’re not--your daddy and I aren’t gonna allow you to bring that baby into our home.” 

“She’s not dangerous,” you argued. “Please, mama, I--!” 

“No,” she interrupted. “There’s an…example to set for your little sisters. And I’m not gonna just--just give that up because you got yourself in trouble. And she is dangerous, baby! You can’t just go around and do whatever you want and then expect us to live with the consequences.” 

“Please,” you wept. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” 

“I’m sure you didn’t,” your mama sighed. She looked at you--really looked at you. Her oldest daughter, always so calm and cool and honest and sweet, sitting in a hospital bed with the baby you hid from her and your father with tears streaming down your face as you cling to that baby. “Baby, you can beg all you want. But that doesn't change the way things are. If you keep this baby, if you wanna be a mama…you can’t do it at home. You gotta do this on your own.” 

And then you looked down at your baby, the one sleeping against the pillow of your breast, and knew deep in your soul that she was made to be in your arms. 

“Okay,” you answered. “I’m on my own.”

Grief is sitting heavy in your gut. It’s a rocky stream, coming in spurts that knock you off your feet and carry you down with the currant. Each time you think about home--the sprawling country estate where you were born and bred, the white one with green shutters and four fireplaces, will soon be your old house. The wisteria that hangs above the porch will soon only be in your dreams, bookmarked between the stained glass door and the wide front porch. The rocking chairs out back, the ones that you used to sit in with your daddy to watch the Canadian geese land on the Kanawha River, will never seat you again. 

And with every quivering breath, every wave of grief, you tremble when you remember: you’re on your own. 

You’re still crying now, like it’s your natural state, and you don’t really see an end in sight. You’ve never been able to see very far ahead of you when grief overwhelms you this way: when your lashes are heavy with it, when your palms sweat with it, when your throat is thick with it. 

“It’s just me and you,” you whisper to your daughter, carefully grazing her lips with the pad of your index finger gently. “I’ve got you, right? I’ll take good, good care of you. We’re gonna have so much fun.” 

She knows your voice--she must from all those months you spoke to her, about her, for her. Already she must know what it feels like when the skin of your throat vibrates as you hum Bluebird Wine. Already she must know what your laugh sounds like, the one that shakes your belly and makes you cover your mouth, the one that always made her jerk awake. And like she is listening to every word you speak, her body responds: her little legs draw up to her chest and she fidgets, thighs rubbing together. 

She’s making those little whines in the back of her throat, the ones she probably saved just for you. And it’s like she knew you’d change your mind--like she knew you’d see her and love her and keep her. 

“Little cricket, aren’t you?” You laugh quietly, pressing your palms to her blanketed legs, squeezing softly. “Chripin’ away. Dreamin’. M’gonna be good for you.”  

And in that hospital room, just the two of you and no one else in the world, you slowly pick her up. Her weight feels different in your arms than it did in your belly--it’s warmer, heavier, more fragile. Her body still feels like tissue paper wrapped around glass, like you can’t move too suddenly or she will shatter. But you pull her against your chest anyway, letting her rest there, letting the sound of your heart keep her slumbering. 

“Promise it,” you mumble, kissing the crown of his head softly. “Forever and ever, Emmylou Iris.”

You don’t consider yourself good--not really. But that was before her, before Lou. You can be good for her. You will be good for her. You’ll be so good she’ll weep with it. You promise. Forever and ever. 

Somewhere else in Montana, Rhett Abbott is standing in his first bedroom outside his family home. He’s breathing in all the settled dust, squinting under the buzzing light above him, his socked feet pressing against the warped floorboards.  

 It’s small--comically small. They had horse stalls bigger than this room back on the ranch. The ceiling is low, almost low enough for him to have to duck when he straightens his spine. The walls need a coat of paint--or two or three. There’s some flies buzzing in the windowsill and a few more little black corpses below them. Below him, he can hear the chattering of the cafe: clattering cutlery, outdated country music on the jukebox, timers beeping, people laughing, babies crying. 

But this room is his. It is his and only his. Cecelia can’t come in and pile all his laundry at the end of his bed. Royal can’t open his door at the crack of dawn and tell him to get moving. Perry can’t wander in when he’s lonely, when he’s thinking about Rebecca, and bother Rhett with his tears. No one has the key to this room except Rhett--and he is going to keep it that way. 

And when he lies back on the rickety twin mattress, the springs crying from beneath him, he doesn’t even mind that his feet hang off. He doesn’t mind that he’s still in his jeans, that he’s still got his dusty t-shirt on. He doesn’t care that he’s dirty, sweating into the covers. He just cares that he is alone, in his bed, and it is going to stay this way. 

This is the beginning, he thinks. I don’t know what everything else was, but I know what this is.

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: OKAY BUT YOUR MOM SUCKS

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

[empiireans]

girlfailure on her way back from work only to find out her dum dum children owe their souls to satan

[invinciblerodent]

I've been thinking about how the Amell Warden and Hawke are related, and that house Trevelyan is technically distantly related to house Pavus, with a number of distant relations spread all across Thedas (Phillam, Lord Albrecht, Lady Osher...), and now I can't shake this feeling that I really, really want house Trevelyan to also be related to whatever the human Rook's last name is going to wind up being.

It just really tickles me to imagine my Inquisitor shrugging, like "Yeah, their family and us Trevelyans have about as much to do with one another as the Pavus and the Trevelyans. Or the Couslands and the Trevelyans. Or the Bayarts and the Trevelyans. The De Ghislain and the Trevelyans. Us Trevelyans have had fingers in a lot of metaphorical pies, so to speak."

(and then Dorian can have a cute moment, and say a little quip about how he's not surprised that his amatus comes from a long and prestigious line of heartbreakers, heyoooo)

[starry-bi-sky]

me: *making MCD lore -- specifically about the Old Gods of Ru'aun that were forgotten after the rise of Lady Irene -- for fun*

me: *trying to come up with Magick Users Lore*

me: *remembers that Zoey once introduced herself as a fairy before she became an elf*

me:,,,,,humans used to be fairies. Elves and Fairies lived amongst one another (along with the other mythicals) until something happened that resulted in a group of fairies losing their wings but not their magic.

me: these wingless fairies did eventually start losing their magic though, as generations went on and their numbers grew, their magic began to dwindle. they eventually lost their magic identifiers -- pointed ears, sharp teeth, etc -- until they became known as modern day humans.

me: the fairies that didn't lose their wings eventually went into permanent hiding due to being hunted down by humans and wingless fairies (later to be known as magick users).

me: they were being hunted because the wingless fairies/humans believed that they could regain their wings (or their magick) if they ripped the wings off the fairies/consumed them/stole their magick.

me: there are little to no written records of fairies, and the ones that do exist are held in the yggdrasil forest where humans cannot find them. nobody knows where the surviving fairies are because their locations weren't written down, and the elves that did know have long since passed and/or disappeared.

me: by the time MCD happens, fairies are considered a myth and humans/mortals have no idea that they are descended from them. also the reason meif'wa and other species can be magick users is because some of the wingless fairies evolved into different species.

[wingedqueenlynx]

A few silly Arkham Survivor shitposts I drew last night lol

Original refs:

Just wacky lil guys lol

[nuks]

single mom oc... single mom oc... single mom oc...

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower: Book 1, Chapter 9

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: Tom sticks his foot in his mouth some? AN: Chicks have survived! We ordered 4, got 5 and they all hatched on V day and have Vday themed names. Chapter 8, Masterlist, Chapter 10 ~~~~~<3 “Let me be clear- I am committed for at least a year or until death. We’re married. I do not take that lightly.” It drove him mad that he had to keep saying it. When would she believe that it was more than just a whim? 

“Tom-”

“Part of being married is the sharing of resources and caring for each other. I care for you and I care for her. You don’t have to care about me- it would be nice but that may come in time.”

“What if you change your mind? What then?” 

Mia felt like screaming. She felt like running. She felt like crying. She felt like reaching out to him for comfort. Instead she sat stone still and board straight. 

“What if I let you find us some magical Las Vegas apartment, get us moved and three months from now you get tired of your secret American family and stop paying the rent?”

“I-” It was her turn to cut him off. 

“You’re right- I can’t afford anything better. I can’t afford food until Monday. If I let you in, let you change our lives and then you change your mind? We end up homeless. Hell, I can only afford this damn apartment because we’ve been there so long.” 

“I wouldn’t-”

“How do I know that? How can I trust that?” Mia’s frustration grew when her vision waved as her eyes grew teary. “You think I don’t want to give you a chance because you’re ugly or cruel or something. Any woman would die for this chance but I can’t. I’ve got a little girl who relies on me.” 

She harshly wiped away a tear that had the nerve to slip from her eye. 

“If I take a gamble and it’s a bust, she gets hurt. She ends up homeless. She ends up in state custody. She gets her heart broken too.” 

“I didn’t think of it that way.” 

She scoffed at him and he bristled at that, opening his mouth to try and defend himself. She started again before he had a chance to say anything though. 

“It’s my job to think of that. How can I trust a stranger, even a stranger I married on a whim, to not let some little girl who he’s known for even less time become homeless. How can I trust that you���re not going to suck her into your charm, make her see you as a father then walk away?”

“I don’t want to push her to see me as a father.” That was the easiest point to focus on first. “If that happens, it happens naturally. I’m not going to pretend that we don’t have a lot of things to decide on, to plan and work out but that will take time.”

Creeping fingers slid a few inches more. He wiggled his finger tips against hers, lacing them together. She didn’t pull away and he took that as a good sign.

 “Tom,”

“If I find an apartment- something modest but without gaps in the doors or maintenance crews that help themselves to tenant’s groceries, if I were to pay the lease up front for the year, would you consider it?”

“This is my life-” People would say she was using him, she knew that as much as she knew her name. 

“No, Mia- not any more.” His voice was soft, devoid of the harshness that had crept in. “It’s our life now. We get to decide what that looks like. We will go over what bills we’ll have, we’ll work together and come up with a plan that makes you feel safe and lets me feel assured that the two of you are safe.”

“I don’t want to use you.” She wanted to accept. 

Glancing at Sally, she knew for her daughter this sort of chance at financial security may never come again. If she allowed Tom to take care of them, even if things didn’t work out she could save her checks. 

“If I’m offering, insisting and fighting you to allow it, is that using me?”

“I’ll think about it, alright?” Mia ran her hand through her hair, scarping her nails along her scalp. “It’s just- It’s a lot, really fast.”

“I know.” 

~~~~~<3

She stood in the kitchen crying. There were boxes scattered in the living room to be taken to the trash later. Tom was upstairs reading who knows how many bedtime stories to Sally.

It felt weird to not be the one putting her to sleep. It felt good to have someone to help with simple tasks like bedtime. 

If she wasn’t careful, she could get used to this.

Realizing the refrigerator and freezer both had been standing open while she cried, for how long was anyone’s guess, she closed it. It was overwhelming, seeing the full shelves. Tom had kept his word, stocking the kitchen in a way she had never been able to do before. 

There were drinks and snacks. Brand new pest proof bins held rice, flour, sugar and dried pastas. A electric kettle sat on her counter and a variety of teas were stacked next to her coffee pot. 

Things for him. Things for her husband. 

“Are you alright?” Tom asked softly from the foot of the stairs. “She’s asleep.” 

Mia couldn’t do anything but nod at first. 

“It’s just a lot.” She said weakly. Everything was hitting her now. Regardless of if she wanted to or not, she was going to have herself a good cry right now.

“Is it?” Tom wasn’t sure what to say as he approached. 

“No one’s ever- I’ve never. We’ve never had this much before.”

Tom moved slow, giving her chance after chance to tell him to back up, to stop, to give her space or go away. Large hands rested on her shoulders as he looked down to her.

 “Does he not provide for his daughter?” That was a question that had been rattling around in his brain since he saw the picture. 

“He’s supposed to pay child support but he hasn’t in over a year. It’s just been me and when Ashley can, she’ll help.”

Slowly, Tom pulled her to his chest. “It’s okay.” He soothed. 

It felt good to be held by him. The moment stretched on as she tried to keep her tears to a minimum. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked as she pulled herself away from him. 

There were things to do and crying in his arms wasn’t something on her schedule. 

~~~~~<3

They sat, cups of tea on the small table in front of them. Tom flipped through apartment listings only to have every single option turned down. Frustration built in him with each apartment, nice and basic, turned down. “Why? They’re all nicer than this place.” 

She sat in silence as he took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t her intention but she was being difficult. 

“I’m sorry.” And she was, to a degree. “It’s just so much.’ 

“I’m just going to pick some and we’ll look.” Tom decided, locking his phone and setting it facedown on the table in front of them. “There’s still a lot to decide. We can put the utilities on auto pay so you don’t-”

“I don’t want you to pay for everything.” It would be better to just shut up and let him pay everything, she knew that. It would allow her to save more for when this inevitably falls apart but she just couldn’t make herself feel okay doing it. “Let me at least keep the electric and internet- the electric will vary during the year and the internet isn’t a necessity.”

“I can send money for groceries-” 

“If I’m not paying rent, groceries shouldn’t be a problem.” 

For the first time in their marriage, they sat and talked into the night. The topics were not fun ones. They talked of financial histories, debts, education and potential future earnings. They talked about the cost of managing their individual households.

Tom wasn’t rich in the realm of his career but compared to her, he was far more financially secure. And unlike her, his career was ramping up and reaching for the sky. Tom swore to her, regardless of what direction his career took, if their attempt at a marriage did not work he would not leave her financially hurt but she struggled still to put faith in him.

~~~~~<3

Midnight quickly approached and Mia’s yawns were coming more and more frequently. They were so different in backgrounds that simply learning about each other’s past ate up more of the night.

“You should go to bed.” Tom’s hand reached out for hers. “It’s been a long day.”

“You’ve been up just as long as me.” Mia countered though she still stood up, slipping her hand out from under his. 

“I need to be up a bit longer yet.” He wanted nothing more than to go up to bed though. “I’ve got to make some calls back home. Face the music and take my licks.” 

“Are you in trouble with someone?” 

“No, not really.” Tom thought twice about his answer after he said it. “Probably but hopefully he’s cooled off by now. My publicist wasn’t so happy with me. I blocked him after breakfast yesterday.”

“He knows about-?” She waved her hand to try and encompass the whole situation.

“Yeah, at least some of it.” 

“I didn’t know you told anyone yet.” It was weird. They had built their relationship, small as it was, in a bubble where in a lot of ways he was just a normal man who was caught up in a Las Vegas situation fit for a Lifetime movie.

“I didn’t.” 

Tom knew he needed to face reality head on. Luke would tell him how important it was to get ahead of the story and now it’s been two days. 

“There are pictures of us at a bar and of me with you in your gown. I don’t know how much the world knows but I did tell Luke about our marriage.” 

“It would be better for you if we didn’t do this.” Mia felt the earth tilting under her feet as what he was inched in again. 

“Maybe, but that’s not something I want to change.” 

Mia had so many questions but she didn’t know how to voice any of them. “Marriage records here are public,” was all she could think to say. 

“That’s not a problem- I was planning on telling the truth. Or at least a version of it.”

“What’s that mean?” 

“I like to keep my private life private. We’ll probably present us as something recent but not same day recent.”

“Should I stay up too?” Mia didn’t know what her role in this would be. 

Tom stood and walked over to where she lingered by the stairs. He was touched at how she had opened up to him, slight though it was. It was there, he could feel it- the little buds that could maybe grow into the roots of a real marriage. 

Reaching out, he took her hand in his. These small acts of affection were easier to accept each time they happened but it was clear they still left her uncomfortable. It still very much felt like pretend to her. Mia struggled to believe he felt anything but duty in them. 

“Go on up to bed. I’ll be up as soon as I get done.” 

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

Stand still. 

Stand straight. 

Write slow and careful. 

Be neat. 

Breathe. 

Mia checked and double checked her spelling on the form. She sucked on a breath mint, feeling like she was a teenager again trying not to get caught. If they didn’t pull this part off, the cards would come crashing down.

When she was sure, through the muddy sludge of her alcohol steeped mind, she handed the form to Tom. He filled his portion out just as methodically. Every time he would glance up at her, his concentration was broke by a wide grin. 

He was an old hand at filling out forms. Muscle memory took care of what Mia had spent ages overthinking. 

She followed his lead as they returned to the counter. Identification was handed over and then it was time to wait. They stood stoic and still. Every bone in their body wanted to dance, to move and to be in the moment. 

Toms fingers wove through hers. He placed a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. Softly, he told her things that went in one ear and out the other, lost in the sound of blood rushing. 

“Here’s your packet. Identification is inside it.” The woman behind the counter sounded like she was reading from the dictionary to Mia. 

But not how Tom would sound reading from one. Tom would somehow sound breathtaking reading a dictionary. 

“Congratulations on your upcoming wedding.” 

“Thank you,” Tom said before leaning down and kissing Mia on her cheek. 

They had pulled it off. The woman either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care that the two standing in front of her were not just intoxicated but very intoxicated. This was the one test they had to pass and they did.

“We’re going to get married.” Mia leaned into Tom’s arm as they walked out of the building and into the magical night lights. 

“Let’s go make you Mrs. Hiddleston.” Tom whispered, grin wide was he wrapped his arm around her waist. 

“Let’s go get married.” She smiled up at him, trusting him to guide her safely. 

Tom couldn’t help but glance down at the woman tucked into his side. The flashing lights reflected off her warm brown hair and danced in her eyes. 

He felt something he had never felt before when he looked at her, when she smiled up at him. It could just be the alcohol but he didn’t think so. In his heart, he knew what he felt was a love pure and simple. It was a love he had been chasing and seeking since he had become a man. 

It was a love he needed logic and fear to step aside for him to see clearly. 

Love was waiting for him, he had to just be willing to see it. 

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki, @jennyggggrrrr, @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri @wizardcherryblossom @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @kats72 @soulpiercing

Ps: Sorry not sorry for the blog getting flooded in the next few weeks with baby chicken pictures, occasional dog videos and personal nonsense. Simply put, my pets are fucking cute and need to be seen. But also spring is coming and planting season is quickly approaching.

[criitterbug]

kind of a milf reblog?