#cw: children

[latenightsimping]

Rosie

Summary: Now a father, Eddie reflects on his own childhood as he settles his little girl.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader, dad!eddie

Words: 800

Warnings: fluff, angst (probably? maybe? more reflective than anything), children, babies, crying babies, mentions of deceased mom, mentions of parental neglect, kinda sad but with a good feel to it like a bit bittersweet, just really sweet okay, eddie’s a girldad 100% argue with the wall, not beta read

AN: Never want kids in my life. But occasionally I’ll indulge in the fictional sense of seeing men that I adore just being real good dads. Something something past trauma. Listen it’s like 7am and I haven’t slept and I don’t really have an excuse so here it is. Might do some other bits and pieces about Eddie, Rosie and mom!reader. Okay enjoy (chapter 2 is now up! You can find it here)

Eddie loved his daughter more than anything. He would die for her without question, would kill for her. Ever since he first held her in the hospital, those little brown eyes staring back up at him, she had him wrapped around her little finger.

He still loved her even when she was having a miserable time with colic. He’d promised to do nights, considering he worked late shifts at the music shop and had the ability to sleep in, whereas you took the mornings in the diner. You’d managed to settle her in for the evening, the house finally knowing peace as you went about your routines and got a couple of hours sleep. But his eyes snapped open when he heard the cries over the baby monitor, groaning with exertion as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I got it,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep as he ran a hand over his face and got his legs working.

He shuffled into your daughter’s bedroom, softly cooing as he carefully picked her up and rested her head on his shoulder as he cradled her in his arms. “Oh my poor baby, still feeling rough, huh Rosie?” he whispered, gently shushing her as rubbed her back. Bouncing her softly, he pressed soft kisses to the top of her head as he paced around the nursery, hating that his little girl was crying and there wasn’t any real way to fix it.

“I know baby girl, I know,” he murmured. He began singing under his breath, knowing that usually did the trick. It was always the same that he decided on; your song. The one that played when you first started dating him, you grinning from ear to ear in the passenger seat of his van as you shamelessly belted out the lyrics. The one that he bought on cassette, playing it so often in his van when he drove around town that it become something of a habit as soon as he got in the driver’s seat. The song that he’d put on a mix tape for you, and would often be playing in his bedroom. The song that never failed to make him smile, because it brought back so many good memories.

And now it was the song that he would sing to his baby girl. Holding her in his arms and thanking the heavens that she was his. It took an encore of a Metallica song to finally get her to settle, her cries turning into soft hiccups that finally subsided. Not wanting to push his luck too far, he decided on settling down on the rocking chair in the corner of the room until he was sure she was fast asleep. Taking the time to gently press his lips to the top of her head, smoothing her soft brown curls after each one and taking in the strange solace that the early hours of morning time gave to tell her just how much he loved her.

“My little Rosie Posie,” he whispered, barely audible as he listened to her soft, even breathing. “Daddy loves you so much. I’m always going to be here. Never gonna leave you.”

Eddie didn’t have much of a childhood. His mother tried her best, but she was gone before her time. Sometimes he wondered if she was looking down on him, proud of the man he’d become. Proud that he didn’t turn out like his father; a man that liked his drink too much and was stuck in the revolving door of the judicial system. He’d made a promise to himself a long time ago. If he ever became a father, he would be nothing like his old man. And looking down at his own flesh and blood, he wondered how he did it. How he neglected his child so often thanks to his selfishness that his brother had to take up the mantle of ‘Dad’. He couldn’t even think about doing that to his daughter. Have her grow up like that, always looking for someone to love her and care for her, the rug being pulled from underneath her when she needed stability.

Rosie would never feel like that, not as long as he was around. He’d go to every parent’s evening, every soccer game or band practice, every school play. He would be front and centre, cheering her on and making the most noise so she knew how much he cared.

Rose. It was his mother’s name. And now, it was hers. And when he eventually stood up and carefully put her back into her crib, he took a second to look down at her tiny features and send a prayer to her namesake.

I love you, Mom. Wish you could meet her.

#cw: children #cw:parenthood #cw: bereavement #eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson x you #father!eddie munson

[zmbiesuga]

thinking about bringing osamu cookies as he wraps gifts for your kids, crossing out all the "from" 's on the stickers and changing them to "love" right before writing your guys' name under it </3

#𖦹 leo's incoherence #♡ : haikyuu #cw: children #osamu miya #osamu fluff #i crave a domestic life with osamu #(again) #osamu x reader

[direnightshade]

Monster Mash

Figured I would try to get myself back into writing by working on some smaller things, starting with this. 'Tis my favorite season, after all.

Warnings: Children (Henry's involved, of course) Word Count: 690

A large pumpkin rolls heavily in the back of the SUV that takes a turn onto an otherwise deserted, leaf-riddled street of upstate New York. Behind the wheel, Charlie winces. He’s been trapped! Bamboozled! Tricked into coming here at the hands of both his son and you, but most by Henry’s devious manipulation tactics. Who’d have thought a pouty lip and threats of having the worst Halloween ever would be enough to get Charlie to cave?

He cannot recall the last time that he’s gone to a pumpkin patch - if ever - but surely the price he’d paid for the pumpkin that rolls so haphazardly in the trunk was exorbitant. It’s really not that much different than years before, you’d assured him while he griped in the checkout line. But…at least the sheets he and Henry will be wearing have cost him all of nothing. And…

He should be - is - grateful for this opportunity. The last few Halloweens with Henry have been spent in the heat-ridden hell that is Los Angeles. It’s about time he’s come out here to spend it in the falling leaves and rapidly cooling temperatures as the holiday was intended to be enjoyed.

“Are we there yet,” Henry asks from the back seat, his gaze cast outward towards the multi-colored canopy of the trees that pass by.

“Nearly,” says Charlie, his own gaze flitting from the rearview mirror back out onto the road ahead. “Just a few more turns and we’ll be there.”

In spite of all of his complaints, Charlie has gone through great lengths to ensure that this day goes off without a hitch for the three of you. He’s chosen a park, one with great fall foliage and little to no other visitors this time of year; the three of you have your autumnal outfits on and ready for any and all photos to be taken, and there is - of course - the pumpkin to be carved upon your arrival.

And carved it is…

Charlie lets Henry carve most of it, only stepping in to help when asked - helping to sharpen out the teeth and eyes - while you retrieve the sheets and sunglasses from the SUV’s trunk. Together it takes them no time at all to reach their desired outcome and, leaving the pumpkin’s interior on the grass for the wild animals to enjoy, the three of you trek a little deeper into the park to set up for your not so impromptu photoshoot.

“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this,” Henry exclaims excitedly, reaching for the sheets in your hand.

Setting one set aside, you are quick to help Henry pull the sheet up and over so it drapes properly on him, ensuring that the small eye holes sit as they should, allowing him to see before you hand him the sunglasses to put on. Once both you and Henry are satisfied with the outcome, you turn your attention to the second sheet and drape it over yourself, mirroring his look with your own, soon moving to stand behind him.

Nearby, Charlie is fiddling with his camera, adjusting the angle of it until he’s satisfied before setting the timer to give him ample time to run over to where the two of you stand. As he runs over, pumpkin in hand, you know that he’ll undoubtedly gripe about the remnants of the shredded insides sticking to his hair once he removes it post-shoot. The amusing thought elicits a smile from you beneath the cover of the sheet.

“Ready,” Charlie asks, the question asked prior to him slipping the hollowed out pumpkin over his head, the carved face now looking at the camera.

“Ready!” Henry’s eagerness shines through in his shouted reply, a hand pumping upward towards the sky. Quickly remembering that all extremities must be covered by the sheet, Henry lowers his hand back down to his side just as Charlie settles a hand against your back.

Beneath the coverings of the sheets and the pumpkin, the three of you smile just as the camera fires off a series of photos, capturing the first of many photos the three of you will take today.

#Charlie Barber #Charlie x Reader #Charlie Barber x Reader #Henry Barber #cw: children

[ladyxskywalker]

I am a puddle thanks to all these Obi thoughts (thots lol). For my own little idea, I like to think Obi knows how to braid hair (lil Padawan rat tail 😍😭) and learns how to French braid just to play with your hair when he sees how much it relaxes you. 🥰🥰🥰🥰

🥰💖 oh I definitely feel like Obi Wan would be an expert at braiding hair (or at least, he gives it his absolute best effort !)

I'm imagining a very exasperated Uncle Obi attempting to braid Little Leia's hair, struggling with having her stay still, placing tiny flowers or a nice ribbon at the bottom of where he's just braided...

Him getting completey flustered all the while as he sees you've been standing there, watching fondly from a distance, hearing the little one's request for him to do something nice for you, just like he's done for her...

"Uncle Obi, why don't you offer her a ribbon too, hm?"

"Oh, I shouldn't..."

"It's okay, I have plenty!"

"Leia..."

And you try your best to hide away all of your laughter, but you can't help it - he's already seen you bite your lip at all of this.

Imagining a more intimate time of resting, that only involves just you and him, where his capable fingertips have been taking kindly to your head...

A braid or two, coming apart from the patient calm that resides within his hands...

& if perhaps you might be someone without a kind of hair for braiding, well, maybe instead there is some kind of tranquil massage to be had in order...

& his gifted ribbon from a certain Princess, will just have to stay tied tenderly around your wrist for safekeeping. 🌸

#ceci 💞 #love & comfort 🌼💛 #obi 🌸 #obi wan kenobi #obi wan fluff #obi wan imagine #pxk answers #cw: children

[weatheredleatherhat]

Do I just read the little Drabble about Papa Heis’s baby pulling on his chest hair and IT IS SO PURE?!!?!???!

Do you have any more daddy ideas in your brain?!

(I’m cackling about how I worded that, I’m a pleb, sorry 😂)

Aaaaah thank you so much!! I always have daddy ideas on the brain, like I don't want kids irl but with Heis? Put a baby in me I'm BEGGING

This man is a girl dad, I have no proof I can just feel it

Has the cutest names for his lil ones like sweetpea, bug, peanut, things like that

Will also call them stuff like sprog, rugrat and trouble tho

Loves to roughhouse and play fight. Especially if he has boys. Like to the level of you look over and you're like "Jesus Christ KARL PUT THEM DOWN-"

They're fine tho, laughing their little heads off

Lets them climb on them like he's a human jungle gym. Has a toddler scaling him while he's nonchalantly reading the morning paper and having his coffee

Very "Ask your mother/father/parent." Sorta dads

King of dad naps. I'm talking sat down on the couch slightly reclined, frown on with eyes closed, arms folded, you know the one? Tells someone he was watching the TV when his sixth sense tells him someone's touched the remote

Idk is it canon realistic he'd have kids? Probs not but LEMME DREAM ALRIGHT

Also not a pleb at all bab! Trust me I have daddy issues out the wazoo 😂

#cw: children #cw: parenthood

[the-little-ewok]

💜 Bereaved Mother's Day 💜

I don't really know how to address this because you know.. "happy bereaved Mother's day" isn't really the right way to say it. Nobody's happy to be part of this gang.

But equally I didn't want to let this day pass by because so offten things like this don't get the acknowledgement they deserve. A year ago I didn't even know this day existed and honestly I hope my followers don't ever have to remember it's existence.

To those of you who have to know it exists I suppose really all I can say really is this : You are seen. You are acknowledged. Your grief is valid. You are allowed to be sad. You are allowed to be happy. And everything in between.

On this day we honour the mamas who's children ran on ahead, who didn't bring them home from the hospital, who didn't get to meet them before they left. We remember that you are a mama still.

Take time for yourself today, and know that you are not alone xx

#cw: misscarriage #cw: children #personal things #bereaved mothers day

[smolvenger]

Stella of Essex or The Vicar's Wife Betrayed, Chapter 5: Yellow Roses

Based off of The Essex Serpent (I would say Fandom but honestly, I love to hate it so here's a Fix It FIc)

Pairing: some Stella/William, mainly Stella/Being Happy, and William/Being Held Accountable and Facing Consequences for Cheating, and eventually Stella/Male OC.

Series Summary: The Essex Serpent is reimagined and told from the perspective of Stella Ransome. And with a new ending. Stella must come to terms with not only her mortality but her husband's heartbreaking affair. A portrait of a woman who became The Ideal Lady her time and marriage required her to be. A picture of a marriage of love and bliss torn apart by a husband's infidelity. Where Stella Ransome, in the midst of devastating heartbreak and a terminal illness, gains her strength, finds her voice, and dares to seek freedom, hope...and even revenge.

Chapter Summary: In which a Widow from London and her son arrive in Aldwinter for The Serpent. Stella and William are introduced to her. But Stella begins to feel odd.

Chapter Warnings: Eventual Major Character Death, Mentions of food, children, religion, mentions of domestic abuse, realistic depictions of corsets, and portrayals of illness. Being Anti William and Anti C*ra so if you like the characters or pairing you have been warned. Divergence from Canon.

Chapter Word Count: 6K (Take a bathroom break)

Ko-Fi Link

A03 Link

Prologue//One//Two//Three//Four

“Ye have heard that it was by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery: but I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery already in his heart.”- Matthew 5: 27-28.

“But if she has no intellectual hold upon her husband’s heart, she must inevitably become that most helpless and pitiable of earthly objects-a slighted wife.”- Sarah Stickney Ellis, from The Women of England: Their Social Duties and Domestic Habits.

I am aware many of you reading this are familiar with the story of The Essex Serpent of Aldwinter. And only a few of you are not. Before I begin the next part, you must be reminded or told of this one fact.

There was no serpent. There never was a serpent.

Despite all our terror at the time, there never was any giant, magical, murderous snake.

No snake killed those bodies.

No snake made Naomi disappear.

Little did we know at the time, we were being afraid of nothing. And what brought her to the town, was nothing.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

To me, her name is too painful to write, much less speak, after what happened. To me, she will always be The Woman. And The Woman she was indeed when she first moved in!

Whenever there is a newcomer, rumors jump around like squirrels. Small towns are especially prone to this when so little happens at a time. I only did what I usually did with newcomers. I would bake my bread. Then I could deliver it as a welcoming present. Especially considering that this was a fellow woman who could be joining our Bible Studies and Sewing circles. No question she would be at church on Sunday. But it was five days until then! She would have to know she was welcome here, most of all by me.

6. Build relationships with women in the church to support, encourage and model Godliness to them.

As I walked down holding the warm pan, Martha passed me and gave me a laugh. Dressed in her walking gown, I noticed a newspaper was tucked under her arm.

“Why, is it for the newcomer? You gave bread to me when I arrived!” she called out.

“Do you…do you know where she lives?” I asked curiously.

I had written down an address on a scrap of paper placed in my pocket, but both of my hands holding a white towel over a hot pan would not grace me with the freedom to retrieve it.

Martha pointed one way and kindly offered to walk me there. We walked up to the little house. I knocked on the door, but there was no response. I knocked again, louder.

“Hello! There’s a visitor!” Martha shouted boisterously.

The only person who opened the door was not a woman, but a young boy. A boy who wasn’t at school. He looked thin and his eyes were wide, his skin sickly pale. Although he looked close to Joanna’s age, he carried himself with an air as if he was far younger with his slumping posture and the way he stared up at us blankly.

“Is your mother here?” I asked warmly.

“My mother’s not here now,” he replied somberly.

“I am Mrs. Stella Ransome; my husband is the vicar of the parish here. I am here to welcome your mother and you to town with this,” I said, offering the bread.

He looked at it and took the pan in his arms, but he did not smile.

“Thank you” he replied quietly.

“Frankie, where is your mother?” Martha asked. “She was here this morning when I spoke to her!”

“She’s off to find the Serpent,” the boy explained.

“And leave you alone? Oh, you poor thing!” I spoke. “Perhaps you should ask your mother to enroll you at school- my own children go there, and they’ll be plenty of other little boys for you to play with! You don’t have to spend all day at home…”

“I’m big enough to be by myself for a little bit, now…” he said.

“And I’m checking in on him, making sure he’s not catching on fire, don’t worry!” Martha added in.

“Oh, well…that is good. You at least can help yourself to some of the bread, Frankie” I said.

“Do make sure you eat that lunch I made you- and Mrs. Ransome was nice enough to give you some bread to go along with it! Have you yet?” Martha asked, placing her arms akimbo.

Frankie shrugged again. He looked down and then back up with no change in his sad, distant face.

“Frankie, I will call on you shortly, and your plate and one slice of that bread should be eaten by now! Don’t tell me you aren’t hungry! Your mother will insist!” Martha scolded.

He closed the door. We walked out into the roads right outside the gate of the house. Out of habit, I looked around the buildings in case anything unusual popped up. Or there were people listening in. But Martha and I were alone.

“She is here for the Serpent?” I asked.

Martha nodded in confirmation.

“Yes, she read our newspaper article and since then, she is obsessed! A most extraordinary, spirited woman, she! She wants to find it…” Martha continued.

“Why?” I asked. “I would want to avoid it.”

The wind blew a little colder. A few orange leaves from the trees fell onto the toes of our shoes. I was shivering inside my coat and scarf.

“For science. She’s a scientist! She loves fossils and history and wants to collect evidence of the serpent, make a name for herself because of it…”

“Why then, that’s very…very noble, I think!” I said.

It was unconventional. I little to never heard of women scientists. She was bound to be quite a character at the Bible Study. Perhaps she would have stories or share a fossil she discovered!

But then again, she was a scientist. She would frown at our Bibles, perhaps, and not participate in our prayers. Perhaps the church was out of the question. I wondered if I would even see her at all.

I did see her. I rushed with my children to church. Happily, we were on time even for Sunday School this time around. As I gathered my own three little ones and walked into the sanctuary, I made my rounds of greetings and chats with the other members.

One gentleman, the local surgeon named Lucas, turned to me with a smile. But today his smile seemed a little too friendly.

“Why, if it isn’t the Fairy Queen of Aldwinter herself!” he greeted.

He leaned forward, eyes shining, and hands in his pockets.

“Thank you, it is good to see you too,” I replied plainly. “And you speak compliments beautifully.”

I turned away promptly but he walked in front of me. His chest was puffed like a rooster.

“And what has the Miss Fairy Queen had next after the service? Plans for the Christmas service and pageant, as per usual from her, hm? Surely, I should be her humble servant and assist her...”

He had quite a nerve, I thought, knowing that my husband was the head of the church and even a few feet away. There was proof of a slight sneeze that echoed off the high ceilings- William was just getting over a cold. But thankfully after three days of me insisting on bedrest and broth, he was well enough to preach.

“I shall tell you what the Fairy Queen shall do after the service, Lucas. She shall l be with her husband,” I said flatly.

He let out an exhale, but his head bowed a little in acknowledgment of fairness. He tried. I gave him no room for encouragement. He respected my refusal. A friend of his, a plump man with a belly and a handlebar mustache tapped over on Lucas’s shoulder. There was a grin on his thin lips.

“Hey…the new woman is here…and she’s a widower too…” he alerted.

Lucas’s head turned and his jaw dropped. Thankfully, he forgot about his brief chase for another hunt!

My eyes followed in curiosity. Could it be? Sure enough, sitting on the pew was Frankie. Next to him was The Woman.

The first thing that struck me was that she was beautiful. Extremely, extremely beautiful. What was most striking was her hair. It was a golden blonde, like the rays of the sun, it was wavy too, making it seem like she glowed. However, although she had put it up like in fashion, strands fell loose around her face and from the style, but never to where it diminished her appearance despite the messiness. In fact, it made her seem romantic and wild. She was slender but still womanly. A straight nose, a creamy, cherubic face, and bright, piercing eyes.

The service began and I took my place again on the first row. William walked up to the pulpit to recite scripture. He spoke with such confidence you would have never known he was sick a few days ago.

“And in the first day there shall be a holy convocation, and in the seventh day there shall be a holy convocation to you; no manner of work shall be done in them, save that which every man must eat, that only may be done of you,” he intoned.

The service began and carried on as usual a parade of hymns, prayers, the choir, the sermon, and so on. I was glad for it again and for having a place to worship and feel refreshed. Even the children seemed calm and more interested today, far from the wailing babies they were in the past. The service ended and I could have my curiosity answered about the newcomer.

10. Stay after service to allow people to get to know you.

Lucas was not the only man affected by her beauty. It seemed nearly every man in the town was coming up to greet her. She would answer politely, if not curtly. I went up to see her, my children nearby, patiently waiting out my rounds of chatting.

“Good day, I wanted to welcome you the other day, but I’m glad you’re here,” I began.

“Thank you,” she replied.

“I am Mrs. Ransome, and these are my children:” I reached out an arm to show them “ Joanna, James, and John here.”

Each one politely introduced themselves and she replied. She gave me her name. Right as I was asking and chatting about how she was finding her new home, I noticed that on the collar of her dress, there was a large purple bruise. I kept trying my best to ignore it. But John could not.

“Why…are you alright Did you…did you fall?” he asked, pointing right at it.

She jumped with a slight panic, finding where my eyes looked, and then tugged her collar above to hide the mark. I looked down a little in embarrassment and hissed his name to behave himself. Meanwhile, Frankie’s eyes grew large and he dropped his jaw. The Woman merely steeled herself.

“Yes.” She answered curtly. “Painful.”

My husband joined my side. There was the introduction and small talk. She was finding her situation well here, comfortable, already good friends with Martha, and her research project was now underway. But it was all still very new for her to get used to.

“You should visit our house, we have a leg of mutton and Stella here makes an excellent cook,” he suggested.

“Yes, when are you free? I’m sure the children would like to play too…” I added on.

“That would be nice, thank you. I can visit Tuesday evening.” She replied.

Once it was confirmed, other women would run to me, barraging me with questions.

“Mrs. Ransome, I’m so thrilled to be pregnant, but I feel so awful all of the time, what must I do?”

“Mrs. Ransome, there’s a girl in Sunday School who keeps crying, what must be done about her?”

“Mrs. Ransome, I need help with the laundry with this broken hand, could you help me?”

I excused myself away to give my answers, volunteer my time, and offer what advice I could give.

“If you feel bad about your pregnancy, run a hot bath and ask for tea or hot cocoa and eat some candy, try not to overexert yourself. That must be Emma! She’s very little, she still misses her mother when they’re separated for a minute! Perhaps offer her some water and remind her she’s safe and if not, then maybe she’s still too little for Sunday school and should wait another year. Oh yes, of course, I can help! I can be there this afternoon!”

On Monday, after school hours, Joanna was off with her friends on her bike again with Johnny at her heels. William was writing his next sermon and preferred to be left in peace when doing so. I took little James, and we went to the beach.

It was an overcast day. Despite the chill, the air was sweet with the water and the sand was fresh.

“See there! See the waves, Jim? Aren’t they pretty?” I pointed out.

He squinted his eyes right at them and nodded with a grin. He took two steps towards it, the wind gusting into his face.

“Yes, very!”

We walked together across the beach, pointing at birds and seashells and discussing his day when I saw a huddled figure. At first, I jumped and grabbed onto my son.

“Mama, what is it?” he asked.

When I looked carefully, it was The Woman. She was down on the ground observing the rocks while scribbling notes onto a journal.

I walked up closer to her, greeting “good afternoon!”

“The Same to you!” she replied. Her head turned towards me in acknowledgment and then back to carefully observing the rock in her hand.

“May I ask, what are you doing?” I questioned.

“I’m researching The Serpent, trying to find tracks,” she explained.

The Woman gave the last note with a flourish of her pen, tucking it behind her ear. She began to wipe any sand off her clothes and stood up. But looking at the mid-body of her dress, I let out a small gasp.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You…I…I’m so sorry it isn’t polite to say so…” I pleaded, taking one step back.

Even James lifted his face up to mine in curiosity as to why. I tried searching around for something to change the subject quickly. But The Woman took a step closer to me in confrontation.

“Why did you gasp, Mrs. Ransome?” she asked.

A glint in her eyes implied she knew why. And no other subject on the clouds or what her son was up to could possibly distract her.

I clutched a little onto James’s arm. The words stuttering got out of me.

“You…you don’t…you don’t have a…you aren’t wearing a…a..” I tried to gesture to the middle of my body with my free hand.

“A corset, you mean? I’m not wearing a corset?” she said.

“Yes.”

Her nostrils flared and her eyebrows lowered in frustration.

“It’s a torture device that only limits women and how we can move and what we can do. I will not wear one as I am researching! Any modern woman refuses them, and I am such!” she huffed.

She glanced down, noticing I was wearing one. Then she looked up, her shoulders relaxing. She reopened her journal.

“I apologize, I have a lot of feelings regarding corsets,” she said.

“I understand,” I replied.

“Now you must please leave me, I have to finish to see if there are any tracks,” she dismissed.

“Good…. good day to you too,” I said, James and walking away from her.

Now, this was an oddity above all else! Not wanting to wear her corset? Did she not want her back and breasts supported? Did she not want to have her clothes look smooth when she put them on? What about when her unmentionable arrived, did she not want the help with the stomach cramps a corset could give? How did her hips ever fare against the weight of her skirts?

Yes, my own corsets made my posture straight and I could not lean down to touch my toes, but I never felt it restrain my movements. I could still walk about and garden fine enough. I saw women ride bikes down the Aldwinter streets while still in corsets. The one I was wearing that day came from a factory run by Madame Valery. It was a woman-made corset! Wouldn’t Madame Valery herself notice if her creations were too restrictive and uncomfortable?

I wanted to tell The Woman that she could wear one and experiment without trouble. She only had to bend her knees to get down onto the ground to observe something. Did she know that she didn’t have to make the laces to tight when she wore one? She could merely adjust the strings so they would fit her to prevent them from slipping off but still fit. Maybe her mother never taught her how, assuming she had one. Maybe she kept buying ones in the wrong size her entire life! Surely, with the right corset on, she could even face The Serpent if she had to capture it, fight it, or run?

But I knew if I even hinted at it, it would only make The Woman more upset and unease any pleasantness there could be between us.

It seemed perhaps her line was directed at me, maybe insulting me and my own choice to wear one. But I did breach a sensitive subject unknowingly. Maybe I Wasn’t the only one that day who noticed it and asked about it. Maybe she was taking out her anger on me without meaning to.

12. Be a blessing to the women in the church; encourage others to do the same.

I asked God to forgive me and to let me turn the other cheek. It was just a mistake of mine. I didn’t know and now I knew never to bring it up with her.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

There was a large Leg of Mutton I purchased from The Butchers on Saturday. And now on Tuesday, I had to make sure there was enough of it for seven of us, as well as side dishes and dessert. I was up to the challenge.

As the door opened, I was still awaiting the completion of our stone oven on the food. I rushed to greet The Woman and Frankie but then had to promptly return to finish the cooking. Then there were the grilled mushrooms, walnuts, bread, and so on. It was stuffy in the kitchen, yet I rolled up my sleeves and carried on. Thank goodness the oven was well prepared for the Herculean task today. It was just like a normal dinner-with just a little bit more thrown in.

Any loose strands that came from my bun, I tucked into my hair and away. So, help me, neither my husband nor she would think me sloppy and uncomely for one moment. May William always think of me as beautiful and perfect, I hoped! I heard the footsteps of my family as well as that of the dog dashing in and out. Any time I stepped out, I got made sure my hair was neat and got rid of my apron, only to tie it back once I returned.

They were all around the couch, discussing among themselves when I walked in, wiping my hands on my apron.

“Dinner will be ready shortly!” I chirruped.

Once we were all setting plates and silverware, The Woman and Frankie took their seats. Frankie seemed to salivate the plate in front of him. The Woman reached to take the water jug before her.

“We must ask for a blessing first,” I reminded everyone.

She froze for a second. Her arm outstretched her sleeve as she was reaching for the jug of water, and I noticed a bruise on her arm. Eyeing down, she noticed it too and retreated her arm.

From her reaction on Sunday, I decided not to mention anything about it. Perhaps another fall.

My three children, William, and I ducked our heads. The Woman and Frankie paused before they followed us.

‘Oh Lord, we ask you, bless our food and bless our guest. Keep us all safe from the Serpent, amen,” William prayed.

As I began my own plate, James turned to The Woman.

“You’re a widow…right?” he asked.

“Yes, I am,” she confirmed, beginning to dig into her pie. Again, the beautiful golden waves from her head fell in loose strands over her.

“So that means your husband is dead…what was he like?” James asked curiously.

She froze. The fork in her hand turned into a grip.

“He was a horrible, horrible man, and I do not wish to speak of him again, thank you. I am sorry, but I did not like him,” she answered plainly.

Oh.

So that explained the bruises, I thought.

James flinched back in shame. I leaned toward him.

“Just apologize…you didn’t know, darling, it was just a mistake,” I whispered.

James kept his head ducked “I’m…I’m sorry…”

“That’s all right, you didn’t know…thank you for the apology… But…you all begin by praying?” she asked.

The bread plate was passed around. William looked at her with slight half exhale, half laugh.

“Why yes, of course, before every meal…” he explained.

John accidentally knocked over his water. I ran up, napkin flying, to dab away at it and clean him up.

“It’s just not natural for me, to need a blessing just to eat,” The Woman said.

I fled to the kitchen and returned with another glass of water for John.

“It’s a way of giving thanks, showing appreciation,” William said.

Thus, began that dinner conversation. William and The Woman were going back and forth, doing most of the talking for us.

She made a point about science.

William made a point about religion.

She made a point about science.

William made a point about religion.

James let out a small burp. I urged him to say “pardon” and dab his mouth with his napkin.

Joanna then turned her head towards the woman. “Have you found anything out about The Serpent, yet?”

Of course, it would get to the serpent. There was much excitement among the local children concerning it. There was a thrill. It was a wild legend. A scary story told around the fire.

The Woman’s eyes glittered toward her and said “I believe there are some tracks in some of the woods, I’ve found…”

“Our woods?” John asked nervously. “The ones you can see from the attic?”

She turned and matter of fact explained to him, “no, it was not located in close proximity to your house…”

We all went around and spoke about what we thought about it. William said it was a creature of God and had to be seen as such. Joanna said it fascinated her. John said it frightened him. James was awe-struck at it. The Woman gave a whole list of theories that went on for ten minutes. Frankie ate his mutton.

I only said, “I only hope it stays away from us and harms no one.”

Once the meal was finished, the boys brought Frankie upstairs to play in their little hideout in the attic. The Woman, Joanna, and William were at the table. She was telling Joanna all about science and Joanna kept bobbing her head as if hypnotized.

I smiled and decided to finish some chocolate biscuits I began that day. Perhaps even that sad, odd Frankie would enjoy them. Maybe even he would smile and know he had a friend in me and speak in a sentence with more than four words.

As I began to pull them off to cool, I heard Joanna’s footsteps upstairs. The Woman and my husband continued their discussion. As I glanced, despite their opposing opinions, he was smiling.

At least there would be peace and no arguing here! I thought gratefully. With someone so passionate about science staying under a religious house, I feared tempers would flare. But so far, there was no shouting and threats. All was good.

I made sure there was sugar powder dusting on top of the biscuits. Using a knife, I found they were the right crispiness. I took a small bite, and it seemed the right flavor. Content, I placed them on a white plate.

William and The Woman were still talking.

Carrying the plate, I passed them and went upstairs to the attic. Joanna was in her room. She took two biscuits with thanks and went to her bed to eat them while reading.

I brought them then to the attic. Once I arrived, I noticed the “club” was formed. The children loved it as a place to gather when they were all younger. It was set up whenever Club was in session. It was a makeshift tent of old bedsheets against doornails on the wall of the attic. A lamp was used for light inside as they were laughing and playing. Their shadows were flashing against it. James was the first to pop his curly head out of the flap.

“Chocolate! Mummy has chocolate!” he cheered.

The boys ran up, with many thanks (and an actual smile from Frankie!), and started to eat them.

“Would you like any, mama?” John asked.

I looked down. I had to make sure everyone else would have some before I took one. Frankie and John had three each, and James had about four. There were four left.

11. Be consistently humble; appreciating everything while demanding very little.

“No, but thank you, you’re a kind boy, Johnny. I must make sure our guests have some before I do.” I spoke.

Meanwhile, The Woman and William continued their talking downstairs. When the plate went down, they chewed on what was left, so hypnotized by their conversation they didn’t hear me sit on the couch next to them. I placed the dessert plate on the small table. They smiled as thanks and ate the biscuits, still deep in discussion. So much so that they didn’t see that they each ate two. No biscuits were spared for me. I said nothing about it.

That evening, William and I lay in bed. We held each other to the crackling fire. The autumnal chill of the outside seemed to creak into our room.

“Stella, she’s going to help me, and we will search for the Serpent,” he announced,

“Oh, that is good. A team together… should be easier on you. She’s clearly an expert, smart. I couldn’t understand half the scientific words she said. She is quite pretty, too…” I replied.

I laid my head on his chest. I looked up to admire the newest addition to my collection of blue porcelain plates just above it on the mantle. I didn’t see his face.

“Yes, it seems every man in town is mad about her,” he commented.

“Lucas is at her heels,” I commented.

“As a man, it’s hard not to blush when she praises you,” he said.

I turned my face to him with a little laugh.

“Oh…a little infatuation?” I asked.

He returned the laugh.

“Yes, I admit! Nothing more! Do you remember your copy of Pride and Prejudice? Aren’t you still infatuated with Mr. Darcy still? And Heathcliff and Colonel Brandon and Edward Ferrers?”

“Yes, I am! Any woman who reads those books keep our little infatuations for those men!” I commented.

Outside we heard the hooting of owls in the night sky.

“You…you are…you are my wife…” he murmured.

“And that I am,” I said. “I may have my infatuation with Colonel Brandon, but when night falls, you are my husband, not he.”

I kissed his cheek and went to sleep, thinking no more of it. My husband is a holy, upright man, I thought. At the end of the day, I was the woman he loved. After all, it was only fair, and I trusted him.

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Weeks passed. I felt tired yet planned the Christmas service and pageant. The business of December made it fly past. January came and February was at its end with the promise of March. All that time I was doing my usual duties and the search for the Serpent continued. No actual creature had yet to be found, yet every townsperson was on the edge of their seat.

It was promised to be a long winter. Everything was still cold and grey. I was sweeping away at the floors as the children came home from school. I had felt dizzy and a little out of breath, I paused and held the broom, pressing it down to ground myself. But I was glad to see them. Joanna had several books in her hands. She went promptly into the kitchen.

Johnny looked around and then at me. The dog was on his heels, wagging its tail.

“Mama…where’s papa? He wasn’t at home when I get home from school at all this week…” he asked.

“Papa’s doing something very important. He’s with Frankie’s mother- you know her. Remember?” I explained.

“Yes.”

“They’re out searching for The Serpent, your father’s going to consecrate it,” I explained.

He tilted his head, setting himself on the couch. His legs couldn’t reach the floor and swung a little.

“Why aren’t you with him?” he asked.

4. Encourage his advancements while maintaining the balance of his home and family.

I went over to the couch and smiled.

“I’m not clever enough for the science, I admit. And, well, someone must keep an eye on you three and make sure the home is nice for him when he returns,” I replied.

“If he returns!” John asked nervously.

I clutched his hand.

“Your father is not alone, and he’s a smart man. He will be safe. He will come home…how could he not for you? He loves you so very much. He loves all of us, he won’t throw himself into danger without considering us,” I explained.

“Papa’s hunts with the other men, he should just shoot it!” Johnny said.

“Then tell that to him when he returns!” I suggested, I took my hand and rubbed it through his reddish blonde curls.

I heard a CLANK of a pot falling onto the floor with a “Blast!” from Joanna.

I got up and went into the kitchen. Joanna was moving the pots around and on top of the stove, putting various things inside: salt, water, oil, and so on. Many of our pots and pans were brought out and, on the table, there were some books left open to black and white pictures of thermometers. Joanna poured the water jug into the pot and turned the stove on. She never showed much interest whenever I tried to teach her how to cook!

“What are you doing?” I asked.

She looked up at me with a large smile.

“It’s a science experiment! I’m going to see what happens to these when you boil them!” she said, gesturing to the salt, oil, and flour taken from the pantry.

“For school?”

“No! It’s in these!” she pointed to the books and opened to the illustrations.

“Since when have you gained interest in science experiments?” I asked.

She explained to me that it was The Woman who inspired her. Joanna went on about how smart and incredible The Woman was. How she told her about science and experiments and showed her some of her notes even. That Joanna wanted to be just like her when she became older.

“A scientist! Me! Perhaps even a doctor even…”

“You’ll need to go to university usually to learn how to be one. That’s why there aren’t many women who are those things…” I commented.

She gave me a defiant huff, her eyes forward and determined.

“Then I will become the first woman to do it! Why do we have to have so many choices anyway?” she complained before turning her light head back to the experiments.

“Just leave enough so I can make dinner, at least…” I requested, walking away to finish sweeping.

I will confess, I envied The Woman at that moment. I envied how beautiful she was. How she was getting lines of suitors interested in her while my own admirers before being engaged were only a handful. I envied how much my daughter seemed to genuinely worship her rather than feel a sense of love out of plain duty from familial blood. And I envied her boldness, her courage to discover The Serpent.

The Serpent terrified me from what bits I heard. I thought if I were to encounter it, I wouldn’t stand my ground. I would scream and run away. I would grab my children and take them somewhere safe. I would hide. I felt I couldn’t fight it much less research it. The less I knew the better my peace of mind. Yet The Woman did. She wanted to go out and find it. She knew no such fear. She trusted that her own child was safe at home without fear of anything crawling inside with fangs. If it was a Leviathan in the water, she would dive in and swim after it. She could run about the countryside for hours and do as she pleased.

My thoughts were interrupted as I saw James. He wandered to me with a fistful of a bit of chocolate cake. It was the one I baked today as a birthday gift for Mrs. Elliott. It was to be given at her celebration this evening. I laughed at him and wiped away the mess on his cheeks.

“Would you like any, Mama?” he asked.

“No, thank you…” I spoke.

“You didn’t eat at breakfast…” he commented, tilting his head.

“I wasn’t hungry then, darling, but I assure you, I’m fine…”

Even though I envied the boldness of The Woman, I enjoyed my comfortable life. Despite how much of it I had to do, I enjoyed cooking, cleaning, sewing, mending, knitting, gardening, reading the odd book, collecting my blue items, and pressing my flowers. Despite the effort, it would take, I enjoyed attending church, helping plan its picnics and holidays and classes, rereading the Bible, going to women’s circles with my friends, and visiting the people of Aldwinter. Most beautiful and fulfilling of all was being a part of my beautiful family- three healthy children and a handsome, generous, intelligent, open-minded husband who was my entire world. Perhaps she and I were just different in our tastes of what enriched our lives. That was all.

So, I would pray to God to take care and rid me of my envy. Then I would go outside and finish the laundry.

Many who have already read of me and of what happened will say I am a cautionary tale. I was a walking warning to other women. That everything I did, said, and agreed with was something that any woman should not do or else share the fate written about me. Then there were others, and these consisted of my elders, family, and my peers at the time, who would hail me as a Perfect Woman. That I was the Saintliest wife and mother who lived and breathed.

And there are times thinking of this that I wonder, how was it I became both?

When I returned home from the celebration and went upstairs, William was writing at his desk.

“Is it the next sermon?” I asked.

He placed an arm over his papers and turned to me.

“No…it’s a letter about what I have found out about The Leviathan,” he explained.

He said that he was writing to The Woman about a verse he discovered in Psalm 104. He was going to let her know that perhaps The Serpent was The Leviathan and if so, that meant it was a creature that remained strictly in the sea.

“If it is strictly a sea creature, then we will know what it is, and we can warn others not to go swimming there…” he expanded.

“That would be good- the mystery will finally be solved. I still think about the book you told me about writing the first day we met, Will! I think would love it and you always had a gift with the written word. They’d have to publish you, William, they must!” I encouraged him, kissing the top of his curly head.

He smiled up at me from his chair, his arm still blocking the letter. He turned around to complete some more as I took off my coat, hat, and gloves and rested on the chair near the fire. Today the walk to Mrs. Elliott’s house and back felt tiring. I found myself trying to exhale deeper as I sat in my chair.

William turned around, scratched at his beard, and looked at me with worried eyes.

“Stella…you seem a little out of breath….” He mused.

“The party was exciting, and the walk was long, but that was all!” I assured him.

When I woke up the next day, although I knew I slept well, I realized I felt sweaty and exhausted. William was not usually an early riser and dozed contently beside me. As he wished me goodbye to head off for Church and Serpent-related duties, I realized that I had no appetite for Breakfast again.

I mustered myself to eat some fruit and boiled eggs, but I started to cough throughout the meal. The coughing continued throughout the day. And the next.

Then, finally, one day, as I was wiping off the dust from surfaces at home, another fit of coughing began. But my chest was tightened with a stabbing pain. The room spun. My legs felt very weak and were shaking. I kept coughing into my sleeve. I tried to go over to get the drawer in the parlor cabinet for a handkerchief, but it only made the dizziness worse.

My legs gave in, and I fell onto the floor. The room kept spinning, the coughs kept coming and I pulled my sleeve into my mouth to block it. All the while my chest kept hurting. My arms were wobbly as I tried to help myself up and failed to.

When I removed my sleeve from my mouth, there was blood.

I heard someone scream before everything went black.

#carrie writes #major character death #stella ransome #angst #angst with a happy ending #stella ransome fanfic #stella ransome fanfiction #stella ransome x male oc #stella ransome x william ransome #tw: children #cw: children #tw: mentions of domestic abuse #cw: mentions of domestic abuse #clemence poesy #clemence poessy fanfictiong #clemence poesy fanfiction #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #fanfiction series #fix it series #fix it #fix it fanfiction #fix it fic #canon divergence #cw: mentions of illness #tw: mentions of illness #hurt comfort series #hurt/comfort #hurt comfort fanfiction

[willowser]

your little angel of a son inherits katsuki's bad temper, and it manifests in his terrible fours.

there's an awful little shriek that echoes throughout the house and katsuki is on his feet and halfway to the living room before his eyes are even open—but the only danger awaiting him there is a pouty little brat.

his son is sitting amidst a swarm of toys that have been strewn about haphazardly, and his arms are crossed and big fat tears are in his eyes and he looks mad as all hell. you do, too, sitting across from him with a deep frown, holding the ripped page of a book from his little shelf.

"no sir," you warn, "we do not treat our things this way."

you incite a meltdown.

katsuki feels his own temper flaring—half from shock and awe at his little mini-me and also from the exhaustion wearing him thin—when your son kicks his legs out in a burst of rage, letting out another little shriek of anger. your cheeks puff up, wearing the same furious expression, and at the hiss of his name, the little brat jumps to his feet and snatches a toy truck nearby and launches it across the room.

"oi!"

your son's attention snaps to katsuki, startled, losing a hint of anger as he pouts at the floor.

"what'd she just tell you?" and when he gets no response, katsuki prods with a, "hah? answer me."

but the little boy only stamps his little feet and grunts out a furious, wordless sound that has katsuki's lip curling. you let out a heavy sigh, shaking your head at him before frowning down at the torn page in your hands, and then katsuki is planting a hand on the back of his son's head and steering him towards the front door.

"time to take a walk."

the boy goes, even though his arms are crossed and his eyes are downcast. he only resists once, as katsuki tries to shove his little feet into his shoes.

"i don't wanna." he mumbles, face scrunched and wet before promptly looking away.

"i didn't ask."

"hmm!"

katsuki has to resist the urge to pinch his own son.

they get out the door eventually, and the little boy stomps along for the most part, no longer needing a guiding hand on the back of his head once they get around the block a time or two. neither of them say anything.

fatherhood has taught katsuki a lot of things, which was expected, but the one thing that's surprised him is—he's learned all the things he doesn't want his son to be.

the first of them being angry. not the way katsuki was, mean and selfish, throughout his childhood; hateful and careless, in his teens; shut off and simmering, even now.

he waits until the tension has melted off his little shoulders, until his little face has dried and evened out. his arms swing at his sides, occasionally coming up to wipe his snot with the back of his hand, and he eyes the few wildflowers they pass with a little hum and a small smile.

katsuki tugs once on his ear, frowning down at the little brat when he peeks up at him. "that how you're supposed to treat your mama?"

he doesn't answer at first, leaning his head all the way back and clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, until katsuki stops walking. "no, sir."

"how you s'posed to treat her?"

"with love."

"how you s'posed to treat your toys?"

"with care."

"uh-huh," katsuki squishes his son's cheeks in his hand, shaking his head lightly from side to side until he starts giggling. "that how you acted today?"

"no, sir."

"that how y'r gonna act again?"

"no, sir."

"okay," katsuki murmurs, nodding once before letting him free. the little boy bounces on his feet and sucks on his lip, grinning when his tummy is pinched. "now pick those for your mama."

and he does, carefully plucking a small handful of flowers from the grass as they make their way back home, and just before he runs up the steps to the house, katsuki's little angel of a son hands him the biggest one.

#cw children #i firmly believe katsuki just has to give the kid one look and he's like. oh shit. #LMAOOOO #dad's up. #bc katsuki isn't going to take him throwing shit around akfjeiqql #NOT IN A BAD WAY HE'S JUST. LIKE. ABSOLUTLY NOT HAPPENING BUDDY. #he's a firm dad but. he makes sure his son knows he's still loved ofc 😌 #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: dad bakugou

[frogs-in3-hills]

hi does anyone else think about april throwing herself over leo to shield him in the shredder strikes back despite having no weapons no way to defend herself and probably assuming she was going to die. does anyone think about that all the time. every day. uncontrollably

[ID: Digital fanart of Ninja Turtles 2003 depicting a scene from The Shredder Strikes Back part 2. April kneels over an injured Leo, cradling his head and looking back over her shoulder to snarl viciously at the camera, though there is obvious fear in her eyes. Her hair has partially fallen out of her bun, the loose strands sticking to her face with sweat. She has a cut on her cheek. Only a portion of Leo’s face can be seen from behind her shoulder. He looks up at her with a sad, pained expression. He has a swollen, bloody shiner on his cheek in addition to other cuts and bruises on the rest of his body. They are on the wooden floor of a dark attic. End ID.]

#she’s so protective of her fambly man….. i think she should have gotten to call that wasp a bitch in ‘‘april’s artifact’’ #anyway. #you ever think about how in almost every version befriending the turtles leads to april having these huge moments of loss #losing her shop her job her home her father her LIFE and yet she accepts it all bc she jsut decided to fucking love them more than anything #take my hand. do you think about it…… #tmnt #tmnt 03 #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt 2003 #april o'neil #leonardo tmnt #silly sully art #described #cw blood #she rlly asked is anyone going to adopt these weird turtle children and then didn’t wait for an answer

[latenightsimping]

Rosie - Chapter 2

Summary: Rosie’s getting bigger, and she’s decided it’s time to learn how to put one knee in front of the other, and begin to crawl.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader, dad!eddie

Word count: 2,930

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, established relationship, children, worries about child development, talks of second child, sexual indications but nothing is explicit, lots of cuteness, not beta read, Eddie is destined to be a girl dad istg

AN: Had this one just looming open on my docs for a while, since idk I was worried about posting for some reason? Maybe the imposter syndrome hit me. But I moved bits around, added and took away certain stuff, and I think (?) I’m happy with it? Anyway, hope you like it! This is a continuation of my Rosie fic; you can find the first one here!

Now that Rosie was sleeping through the night, things fell into a comfortable routine. A promotion at the music shop meant that Eddie was able to earn enough for you to take less work at the diner, now only a couple of shifts in the evenings while he worked Monday through Friday. Coming home in time for you all to to be together as a family, the weekends free for days out or lazy days on the couch.

Your daughter was growing up so fast, now nine months old and already showing the signs that she’d begin to crawl any day. You’d spent God knows how long a couple of feet away from her as she lay on her tummy, cooing and holding out your hands as you encouraged her to start moving. But just like her Dad, she could be stubborn, deciding to do things in her own time. You were kneeled in front of her when you heard Eddie come home, her beloved dragon stuffed toy in your hands as you tried to inspire her to move of her own free will. Smiling when her head turned towards the archway that led to the hallway, listening to Eddie shuffle around as he took his shoes off.

“I’m home!” he called out, turning the corner and grinning when he saw the both of you. Placing the white plastic bag he held on the couch, he gasped in delight as he took a few steps to scoop up his little one and nestle her in his arms. “Hey there, princess,” he cooed, peppering her little cheeks with kisses in the way that never failed to make her squeal in delight. “Ya missed me?”

Her tiny fingers found their way into his long hair, gently tugging as she squirmed to look up at him. It always made your heart warm to see the two people you loved most interact with each other, the adoration Eddie had for her clearly visible in his eyes as he looked down at her.

His attention was turned to you as you got up off the floor, taking the few steps to press a kiss to your lips. “Hiya sweetheart,” he murmured, shifting Rosie in his arms so a hand was free to come up and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Hey you,” you grinned, wrapping your arms around his middle as he looped one of his own over your shoulders. “How was work today?”

“Same as usual,” he answered, letting you go after giving you a little squeeze and one final kiss to your temple before motioning to the bag. “Managed to drop by family video on the way home.”

You smiled as you picked it up, pulling out the couple of VHS boxes to get a good look at his choices. Some were for you and him to enjoy, but you couldn’t help the relieved sigh fall from your lips as you noticed the bright pink box with the cute characters from Moon Dreamers on the front. Though the cartoons were only background noise to her while she played, you noticed that she seemed to enjoy some more than others. “They finally got it.”

“Yup. Steve managed to snag it as soon as it came back,” he smirked, looking down at Rosie as he gently bounced her. “Because we both know that if Mommy had to watch one more episode of Muppet Babies her head would explode,” he crooned in his softly spoken baby talk, each word laced with tenderness. Though she didn’t understand a word of what he said, she still smiled like it was the best thing she’d ever heard.

You chuckled as you put the tapes away on the shelf by the TV, before heading into the kitchen to get a start on dinner. “I think if I have to hear that theme song any time soon, I’m actually gonna lose it.”

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I’ll make sure Steve knows that there’s a household ban on all Muppet related videos for the next couple of months,” he chuckled, lounging back on the sofa with his head resting on the arm and pulling his legs up to rest his baby girl on his thighs. As you chopped up vegetables, you kept looking over to watch them through the archway that connected the rooms, fondness blooming in your chest as he softly spoke to her about his day. Answering her nonsensical babbles with “I know, right?” and “that’s what I said!” as he grinned. Deciding after a while that pretending to eat her toes was a far more interesting endeavour, making her squeal with delight as her adorable laughter filled the living room.

With everything in the oven or simmering on the stove, you headed back to sit down and relax for a little bit. Eddie shifted so he sat beside you, Rosie happy to sit in his lap as his arm came to rest over your shoulders. The few minutes were filled but nothing but blissful silence, save for the game show that you were both only sort of paying attention to. You were just happy to have Eddie’s fingers draw absentminded patterns on the skin of your lower back, your head on his shoulder and letting your eyes close as your eyes fluttered shut and you let out a long sigh through your nose. Having a child and a home was one of your lifelong dreams. Didn’t mean that it wasn’t tiring at times.

“Almost forgot to ask how your day was,” he finally whispered as he looked down at you, figuring you would appreciate some time to shut your eyes but also knowing full well that you wouldn’t be too happy if dinner got burnt.

“Was good,” you murmured as you curled further into his side, forcing your eyes to open. “Managed to get some laundry done, and spent a little while trying to get her to crawl. She’s nearly there, but it seems she’s content enough with sticking in one spot for now.”

“She’ll get the hang of it,” he said softly, knowing that you sometimes worried about her development. “Sometimes it just takes some kids a little longer than others.”

“I know,” you sighed, a small smile on your face as you reached out to gently smooth out her soft brown curls. “Guess it’s good that she isn’t moving about for a little while longer. God knows how much mischief she’s gonna get into when she finally gets going.”

Eddie let out a scandalised gasp as he looked down at Rosie, wiggling his fingers that she hand her tiny hands wrapped around. “My little girl? Trouble? Never.” She looked up at him to find the source of the noise, large brown eyes that identical to his crinkling as she smiled.

“Hmm, you just better pray she won’t take after you when she’s a teenager,” you teased as you got up to check on the food.

He laughed, shaking his head as he followed behind and settled Rosie down in her high chair. “No idea what you’re talking about. I was the poster boy for innocence and virtue.”

“Tell that to my Mom’s back porch that you singed when you dropped your joint on it,” you smirked, remembering the night when you’d both got quite drunk and were too busy making out to notice the small burn that permanently blackened the dried out floorboard.

“If I remember correctly, we were sharing it,” he countered, opening the fridge to grab a can of soda. Placing it on the counter as he came behind you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close to his chest as his lips pressed into the crook of your neck. “Can still remember the hickeys you gave me that night, too.”

“Ah, to be young again,” you sighed wistfully, your eyes flickering over to check that Rosie was still okay. She seemed pretty content to babble to herself for now, though you knew any time now she was going to start wanting to be fed. “Feels like a lifetime ago now we’ve got a little one of our own.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, the sound full of blissful feeling as he rested his chin against your shoulder. “Wouldn’t trade it for the world, though.”

“Neither would I,” you whispered, turning your head to kiss his cheek. “Would always make the choice to nearly land on my ass when I slipped on those wet leaves.”

He let out a small hum, nuzzling his nose into your shoulder. “And I’d make the choice to catch you.” His tone grew quiet as he lifted his head, lips by the shell of your ear as he pulled you closer. “And for the record, I totally wouldn’t object if you still wanted to give me hickeys.”

“Behave yourself Munson,” you laughed, playfully swatting his hands as he chuckled and pulled away to start preparing Rosie’s food.

Now you were getting the hang of life with a small child, dinner times went a lot smoother. Soda forgotten about on the side, you’d grab a glass and pour it for Eddie while he sat down to feed your daughter. You’d serve up dinner, and he’d grown used to taking mouthfuls whenever she was preoccupied or still finishing the last spoonful. At first, you had offered to do it, but he simply shook his head and smiled as he insisted it was fine. You guessed it was his way of getting more bonding time with her, and you weren’t going to get in their way any time soon. Eventually Rosie would make grabby hands for the spoon, Eddie handing it to her so he could finish up eating. Sure, sometimes errant bits of food would end up flying everywhere when she found it amusing to pick up the bowl and smack it against her tray. But you could always clean up later, and it kept her happy.

Eddie was the one to take her upstairs to get the bedtime routine started, while you cleaned up the kitchen. If you strained your ears as you put away the dishes, you could hear Eddie’s voice coming from her bedroom as he read her another chapter of ‘The Colour of Magic’. It wasn’t like she could even understand it, but Eddie had insisted on “starting her off young.” She just seemed thoroughly entertained with his dramatics whenever he voiced the characters and acted out the scenes with vigour. By the time all the counters were wiped down and you could finally collapse onto the couch, Eddie came back down to join you with an exaggerated groan as he flopped beside you.

“Out like a light,” he sighed, a hand pulled over his face as he stifled a yawn.

“Sound’s like someone’s ready to join her,” you noted with a raised eyebrow, cuddling into his side as his arms automatically pulled you in close. “Wanna go to bed?”

A laugh rumbled through his chest as his eyebrows raised, his expression turning from tired to amused. “Why sweetheart, are you trying to seduce me?”

“As if it would be difficult to do that,” you countered, resting your chin on his shoulder as a soft smile graced your features.

He mocked an outrage gasp, though the upturned corners of his mouth betrayed him. A devilish grin slowly spreading over his countenance as you were pushed onto the couch, onto your back and making a soft yelp tumble from your lips. Feeling his weight come to rest on you and his mouth playfully attack your neck as he slotted himself between your thighs. You broke out into giggles, wriggling underneath him. “Eddie,” you whined with a soft smile, your hands coming to rest on his shoulder blades. “C’mon, you got work in the morning.”

“The night’s still young,” he murmured against your skin. “Don’t you wanna fool around a little?”

“First of all, ‘fool around’? What are we, seventeen?” you grinned, trying to keep your voice even when his ministrations were starting to get you hot and bothered. Eddie had figured out a long time ago exactly what made you tick, and it never failed to make your eyes flutter shut when he laved his tongue on the spot just under your ear. “S-second of all, last time we did this on the couch we ended up with a little surprise nine months later.”

His head lifted to look at you, his lopsided smile coming into view. “Would it really be a bad thing if it happened again?”

Your eyebrows jumped up as you chuckled. “We’ve only just managed to get Rosie to sleep through the night. You really want two screaming babies to deal with?”

He bit his lip as he shrugged. “Alright, maybe not yet. But when she’s a little older? Give her a little brother and sister to play with?”

You’d always known Eddie would love to have more than one. While you weren’t particularly fussed either way – your daughter was plenty to keep you on your toes with – you wouldn’t be against it, if you just so happened to fall pregnant again. It might even be pretty wonderful.

You finally nodded as you leaned up to lock your lips with his own. A soft kiss, full of intimacy. Feeling his weight shift onto one arm as a hand came up to thread through your hair. You pulled away with a soft smile. “Maybe. We’ll see what happens when she’s old enough to talk in full sentences.”

You laughed at his little victory cry, turning into a soft moan as his mouth attacked your name again. Sure, you weren’t ready for another little one yet. But it didn’t mean that that you were immune to Eddie’s charms. Especially when he made you feel the way that you were feeling now.

~

With you lounging on the couch as you watched them play on the floor together, Eddie sat cross legged on the rug in front of his baby girl as he made her stuffed dragon ‘walk’ across the floor towards her. Gently booping the top of her head with the soft nose and pulling away to repeat the process all over again. You remembered the day that the boys from Hellfire got it for her as a group gift, and how over the moon they were when you reported back that it was her favourite toy. You still had the little handmade card it came with, the words ‘to our future party member’ and a drawn picture of a very adorable cartoon mindflayer on the front with all their names on the inside.

“Babe,” Eddie whispered, causing you to look away from the TV show you were half watching to see what he was looking at. You swore Rosie wasn’t that close to him just a moment ago. “C’mon Rosie Posie, you can do it,” he gently cooed, shuffling a little further back and holding out the dragon just out of her reach.

Her tiny face scrunched up in concentration little tongue poking out of her mouth as she shakily got herself up on her hands and knees to push herself forward just a little. You gasped as you sat up, feeling overjoyed that she was finally doing it. It was uncoordinated, and she only moved a tiny amount at a time. But she was finally crawling.

“Such a clever girl,” you squealed, resisting the temptation to pick her up as she worked herself to finally reach Eddie. When you looked up at him, you could see that he was bursting with adoration and pride as his little girl finally managed to reach out a hand and grasp her teddy. You could see how his eyes shimmered with tears as he picked her up and held her above his head.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned, bringing her to his chest and hugging an arm under her legs with his hand on her lower back to support her. Smothering her little face in kisses as he sniffled. “My beautiful, clever little girl.”

She seemed to be more interested in her toy, little face pouting until Eddie shifted his position to sit with his back leaned up against the couch so he could be close to you. Settling her in his lap and nestling the little dragon close to her. You couldn’t stop smiling as you leaned down to rest your forehead on his, his head tipped back as he gazed up at you.

“She finally did it,” you whispered, giggling as his hand came up to rest against your cheek. Smoothing the pad of his thumb just under your eye.

“Told you she would,” he murmured, leaning up for a kiss that you happily gave. He looked back down at her, blissful in the knowledge he was surrounded by love. The girl that he’d chose to settle down and start a family with behind him, her hands smoothing up and down his shoulders as she pressed kisses to the top of his head. And the little one they both created, staring up at him with eyes the exact same as his own and smiling at him. Like he said before dinner, he wouldn’t change it for the world. If he had to go through all the hell that he’d been subjected to, with the shit with his parents and the bullying and the unrelenting horrors that he almost fell victim to, he would do it all again with a smile on his face if it meant he’d end up in this exact moment.

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #cw: children #cw:parenthood #dad!eddie #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson x you #father!eddie munson

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 261

“So is no one going to talk about the eldritch space child or…” 

“I mean, do you want to get between a child and Batman? I think the only one who could even get close right now is Superman…” 

“No you’re right, I think- oh my god the eldritch space child is playing with batman’s bat-ears and he’s not doing anything about it what the fuck I thought only Robins could get away with that-” 

#DCxDP #DPxDC #Prompts #Alfred is Clockwork #AndCW having adopted Danny means Danny gets to meet his new big brother from another timeline #Bruce (Once Alfred confirms) is absolutely attached within moments #Autistic bois unite & talk for hours about hyperfixations #Clark has had time to make an entire homemade pie at this point #No Danny isn’t ghost king nor is Clockwork Cronus #Bruce: I have only had a baby brother for 5 hours but if anything happens to him I will let my kids break all the rules & kill everyone her #Signal: Yeah definitely Alfred’s he glows like him and everything #The rest of the bats: Alfred does what now- #Danny with dozens of big star eyes to Bruce: How would you feel about sisters #Bruce holding 3 children & 1 young adult: I am big brother now #Alfred scathingly says that Someone in the family *cough Jazz cough* will at least finish college & get their degree #Sometimes CW enjoys turning off his future-vision and vibing as a mostly-mortal #And Gotham is an old war buddy of his (Yes Gotham is the city equivalent of an Ancient) from the [Redacted] era of the Realms #And xer son & daughter are adorable- Bludhaven & Arkham love the vigilantes lots

[direnightshade]

Since someone is asking about the fluffy aspects of Gladney fam can you please tell us some small headcanons about how the guys show their love for us? Whether that be physical touch or small, unspoken things they each do to make our day easier? Love you and the boys, bby! 😘❤️

FIRST OF ALL. Let me drop this here because WHAT THE FUCK, MA’AM. My heart. 🥺

Okay, here's my list of fluffy headcanons:

Jack

This man is a conversationalist. And one of his favorite things is to have us seated on his lap whilst he sits in his favorite armchair and listens to us tell him all about our day. He loves to hear us talk, loves to have a conversation about anything and everything with us even if it's a topic he knows nothing about.

He doesn't tell us this, but he is constantly checking in when we're not with him: using the Find My app to make sure we're okay when he hasn't heard from us in a while which is rare, checking in with the boys to make sure they're taking care of us when he can't. Jack's always looking out for us even in the moments we're unaware.

Kylo

Kylo shows a lot of his love through reassurance and praise. He's constantly telling us how proud of us he is and that even on the days we're really struggling with something, whatever that something may be, he lets us know that he recognizes the effort and appreciates it immensely.

He's also a fan of small touches. He considers them to be oddly more intimate, almost like an unspoken language where he can convey so much with something so small. It's a hand on our back at a function to let us know he's checking in and making sure we're okay, a hand on our thigh under a table to claim his stake on us without uttering a word, or a lingering kiss on our forehead to let us know he loves us.

Ben

We know Ben is heavy on physical touch and that's no exception when it comes to showing his love for us. This man is constantly straddling the line between fluff and feral, so he's constantly grabbing our ass, pawing at our thighs, putting his lips anywhere and everywhere. We know all the boys love our body, but Ben really is a worshipper and he's not shy to show us and reinforce that we're beautiful, especially on the days we struggle with body image.

Ben is probably the most outwardly romantic of all the guys, so he does a lot of grand gestures. That's just how Ben is: the bigger, the better in his eyes. There are a lot of surprises where Ben is involved; surprise dates, surprise day trips, surprise stealing us away from his brothers and pissing them off in the process. You name it, he's doing it. We are never short of love when Ben's around.

Matt

You'd think Kylo would be the schedule-oriented one when it comes to us, and sometimes that does ring true, but Matt is always ensuring we're on top of the day's plans. Pills? Vitamins? Whatever we're taking, he's got them lined up and ready along with a glass of water for us when we wake.

I know Matt really comes off as stand-offish to most when it comes to romance, but that's just because he has his own brand of contact. His grabs tend to be a little more possessive, of course: a hand gripping the back of our neck, our waist, our ass or our thigh. But that's just Matt, he's rough around the edges, but at the heart of it all, everything he does is with love.

Matt's a big educator like Jack when it comes to subjects he's passionate about. He doesn't share much with a lot of people, though, but he does share with us. He loves to teach us about botany, about anything STEM even if we aren't fully grasping the subject at hand. Quality time is a big thing with Matt and stealing us away to have alone time with us is one of the ways he can really open up and be himself.

#Ask #leatherboundbirate #BHB AU #BHB #BHB Personal AU #Jack Gladney #Matt Gladney #Kylo Gladney #Ben Gladney #cw: babies #cw: children #cw: body image #cw: pills #cw: pill mention #cw: medicine

[heritageposts]

if you're subscribed to the washington post, it's time to cancel your subscription

as if their coverage of the genocide in gaza wasn't bad enough, this is now the kind of vile racist shit they're apparently okay with publishing in their editorial cartoons

and if you're unfamiliar with the artist, michael ramirez, here are some of the cartoons he's made for other publications:

(putting them under a read more because there are so many of them and they're all disgustingly racist and/or islamophobic)

#free palestine #israel #gaza #racism cw #islamophobia cw #there's a ton more cartoons i could add #this guy is vile even for a political cartoonist #and the fact that WaPo is willing to publish this guy? and now???? #just as the number hit 10 000 dead civilians - 4000 of them children - this is the guy they chose to ''satirize'' the ongoing genocide #i already hate the WaPo (see: their coverage of any global conflict ever) but this is low even for them

[whitebookposts]

The sky devs are asleep, post Megabird that was hacked into the game from old files

#sky: cotl #sky: children of the light #sky children of the light #sky cotl #thatskygame #that sky game #sky: the more you know #megabird #cw bright #cw flashing

[strawberrystepmom]

cw children, cw families. gojo and f!reader were idiots in love and they are now married and have a baby. my effortlessly good painter gojo hc won out over being normal in my brain today so yeah. reader is referred to as mom/mama/mother and princess, satoru makes a joke about readers breasts. wc 1.1k

Your morning has started far quieter than they usually do.

The day is overcast, no sunshine through your floor to ceiling bedroom windows, but you don’t mind. It feels good to embrace the cloudy days that have come with the changing of seasons, no harsh light to shock you awake. That job will be for your identical menaces in the coming months, the gummy smile of your morning person nine month old and her unabashedly obsessed father Satoru always eager to be your twin alarm clocks with their giggling and playful babbling at each other.

There’s nothing they love more than giving you the gift of four identical blue eyes blinking at you while you come to your senses every morning. You can almost admit aloud that you’ve become a morning person since becoming a parent, the delightful giggles of your daughter giving you the motivation to conquer anything and everything you can.

For today though, you wake gently, softly rolling from your side to flat on your back but something feels off. There are no hushed giggles, no silly songs being recited with children’s show host precision.

Your bed is empty and quiet and you feel…sad. Perhaps in the past you would’ve found this to be a luxury - no freakishly long limbs of your husband starfished across the bed to keep you pinned to it, no baby to tug at the earrings you forgot to take out last night, but instead it just feels like a less welcome start to the day.

Lingering in bed doesn’t feel good so you roll again, dropping your legs over the edge and sliding your feet into your waiting slippers. Scuffing across the floor, you yawn and stop in your tracks hearing voices from inside Satoru’s closet.

Well, a voice and some baby giggles, anyway.

“Can you say mama?”

Leaning against the door frame of the walk in, you stifle a laugh listening to your husband babble at his little girl who babbles back excitedly. Peeking around the corner, you see him standing in front of the portrait of you that he painted on your 24th birthday, little babe held to his chest and leaning her head on his shoulder.

“That’s her, that’s right. Your perfect mom.”

He sighs and your heart squeezes watching the two of them sway side to side, your baby who is growing into an independent toddler every day reaching out as if she recognizes your face. You’re sure she does, actually; the painting is an impeccable likeness and it still frustrates you 6 years later that he managed to become so good at a craft you’ve spent your life working on in less than a month.

Someday you’ll tell her the entire story, your version of it anyway. For now you’re content to let her father tell his side considering it was one of the most grand and romantic gestures he had performed at the time in an effort to show you how serious he was about your relationship.

“Listen, little girl,” he starts, unknowing that he has captured both of your attention. “I know I’m going to have to tell you this again eventually but do not ever bring a man or woman or anyone else into this house that loves you less than I love your mother.”

She coos at the sound of his voice and he chuckles down at her, kissing the downy white hair atop her head.

“I mean it. If they won’t stay up for four nights straight to get a start on painting your nose from memory, leave ‘em behind.”

With this, you giggle and the attention of both of your menaces is captured. Your daughter squeals from over Satoru’s shoulder, holding one little hand out and making a grabbing motion and he copies her excited babbling with his own.

“My little tricksters snuck out of bed this morning!”

Grinning, you cradle your little girl against your chest and kiss her temple, inhaling the clean smell of her shampoo and skin. She’s been bathed and everything.

“You’re the best.”

You feel the need to remind Satoru at this moment and he grins, bending to give you a good morning kiss.

“Duh.”

Giggling, you let your wiggly daughter settle herself and the three of you stand in front of the painting. You recognize the younger woman permanently captured in it, the soft lovesick look in her eyes, and it amuses you to know he took extra time to capture you exactly like that. Hopelessly in love.

He could capture you using the same medium and you’d look identical to how you did back then - utterly stricken.

“Did you really stay up practicing for four nights?”

“Princess, I stayed up practicing for four weeks.”

You snort, looking up at him from the corner of your eye.

“There’s no need to embellish now, you’ve already won me over.”

He shrugs, pulling the two of you close to his chest. He leans over his little family, cheek resting against the top of your head.

“But what if I never want to stop winning you?”

You reach up and brush his hair off of his forehead affectionately. Every touch you give him is full of love and every glance carries tenderness.

There will come a time when your daughter will be old enough to gawk at the love the two of you have for one another. Maybe she’ll stick her tongue out and roll her eyes just as you remember her father doing more than once or perhaps she’ll simply smile and hide her face in the collar of her shirt, dreaming of a love like what’s in front of her someday.

“I mean, I could paint you again. You are coming up on the big three oh and I have to say that a few things have grown since back then if you know what I mean.”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and drops his voice suggestively low. You flick him on the forehead and laugh about it, your daughter joining in on your giggles as a nine month old is apt to do.

The thing you hope she’ll understand the most is that sometimes love isn’t just big paintings and grand gestures and sweet looks. It’s being grounded enough to give each other a hard time when things are good and a good time when things are hard.

You are fortunate enough to have the best of everything with her father.

“Let’s go make breakfast, Monet.”

You turn on your heel and your husband follows closely behind, small steps to match your own. He looks over his shoulder one final time to look at the painting of you on his closet wall and he smiles, soft and warm.

“Whatever you say, my muse.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoken #kendall writes #the way I have the actual story of the painting itself written too my word #cw children #cw families

[izvmimi]

you can hear satoru's footsteps before you see him - intentional because he could very much sneak up on you if he really wanted to - but don't turn immediately to greet him this morning, instead focusing your eyes on the sizzling frying pan before you. it's rare that you manage to make it out of bed for this long without satoru either pulling you back in with him for a 'few more minutes' or him trailing you across the house until he's found something better to do to occupy his time (preposterous because you are the best thing that's ever happened to him), but you've taken this morning to prepare breakfast before your littlest one announces their awakening with a dash into your arms and a demand for scrambled eggs.

music plays softly in your earphones and you keep your hum low as you work. "hi baby," you still offer, and pouty about your lackluster greeting, your husband glides in long strides across the kitchen to meet you by the stove.

"mmm, morning, sweetheart..."

his bare chest presses close against the fabric of your nightgown, strong arms wrapping around your midsection and just grazing the handle of the stove.

"hey, careful with that," you remind him, accepting the first of many kisses posed against the back of your neck. oil crackles and threatens the under-clothed.

"it's not like i'm afraid of any- ow!" he yelps, as an oil drop stings sensitive skin on his bare belly, challenging his hubris. you look at him with concern, and when your eyes go round and wide, he's more entertained by the idea of feigning pain than anything, even if he's clearly suffered worse, the faint vestige of a mortal wound manifesting in a light scar along the length of his abdomen.

you're cute when you worry about him.

"you okay?" you ask. with the question, your index finger reflexively presses gingerly against an abdominal muscle, and your eyes linger a little too long on the tuft of snowy-white hair peeking just over the hem of fleece pajama pants that hang almost a little bit too low.

"would be if you kissed it better," satoru replies in a low whisper.

your cheeks warm, and instead you reply with a gentle slap to his belly, but he holds your hand there in place just as gently. moving in closer, he smiles at you, all blue eyes and playful desire for his sweet, domestic partner.

"i can take healing kisses to my lips too."

you roll your eyes, but as always and forever, you oblige.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #daydreams: jjk #cw children #mimi's notes