#Come here my baby

[daisywords]

One of my biggest nitpicks in fiction concerns the feeding of babies. Mothers dying during/shortly after childbirth or the baby being separated form the mother shortly after birth is pretty common in fiction. It is/was also common enough in real life, which is why I think a lot of writers/readers don't think too hard about this. however. Historically, the only reason the vast majority of babies survived being separated from their mother was because there was at least one other woman around to breastfeed them. Before modern formula, yes, people did use other substitutes, but they were rarely, if ever, nutritionally sufficient.

Newborns can't eat adult food. They can't really survive on animal milk. If your story takes place in a world before/without formula, a baby separated from its mother is going to either be nursed by someone else, or starve.

It doesn't have to be a huge plot point, but idk at least don't explicitly describe the situation as excluding the possibility of a wetnurse. "The father or the great grandmother or the neighbor man or the older sibling took and raised the baby completely alone in a cave for a year." Nope. That baby is dead I'm sorry. "The baby was kidnapped shortly after birth by a wizard and hidden away in a secret tower" um quick question was the wizard lactating? "The mother refused to see or touch her child after birth so the baby was left to the care of the ailing grandfather" the grandfather who made the necessary arrangements with women in the neighborhood, right? right? OR THAT GREAT OFFENDER "A newborn baby was left on the doorstep and they brought it in and took care of it no issues" What Are You Going to Feed That Baby. Hello?

Like. It's not impossible, but arrangements are going to have to be made. There are some logistics.

[lazylittledragon]

if i had a nickel for every au spawned from twitter that i SWORE i was going to be normal about

[bacchuschucklefuck]

beautiful! majestic!

[theeroticlover]

Your moans make me wilder.....

[chloesimaginationthings]

Michael Afton let his FNAF trauma slip again…

[peace-hunter]

baby OP has a favorite and is not afraid to let everyone know about it. prima thinks he just likes that zeta lets him chew on the matrix sometimes. solus thinks prima's just salty he's not the favorite :/

and zeta is carefully neutral on the discussion but privately he wonders if maybe prima is onto something. if maybe primus has let their baby brother in on a secret he hasn't told the rest of them yet.

he supposes time will tell.

(continues under readmore)

baby prime orion au

orion has been looking for something for as long as he can remember. he just... can't quite tell what it is. but maybe if he can find the matrix, it will soothe the ache in his chest that tells him he's missing something far more important than a t-cog.

maybe.

[splinterclan]

Moon 17: So yeah! This happened!

(Sidenote for Cedar's kits, they're meant to be 4-5 weeks/1 moon old already - so they're weaned from needing milk)

Also, also baby refs:

[jpg-of-dorian-slay]

no bc jackie wanted to be loved so badly and she cared so much for everyone on her team, she did their face paint and misty's makeup and tried to boost morale and she loves shauna so fucking much and they exiled her and they left her outside and she froze to death. they literally froze her out. i'm genuinely never getting over her death bc she did not deserve that and all they would have had to do was ask her to come inside and if shauna was just like "hey i love you i'm sorry" she would have come inside. SHE WOULD HAVE COME INSIDE GUYS.

[housederiva]

Lucanis get over here, we gotta have a conversation real quick

[tamagoneko]

who's angry ass kid is this?

[shoomlah]

Friday was my last day at Valve.

Leaving a job full of people and projects you love is always hard, but I have a pretty good reason for it this time around:

Next Monday is my first day at Cyan.

Feels appropriate to announce this on Riven's anniversary, the game that is entirely to blame for who I am as a concept artist and Art Director. WHO WOULD I EVEN BE if I hadn't had my 11yo mind blown by the little wahrk gallows counting toy in the Rivenese schoolhouse??? It's a mystery.

I can’t talk about what's on the horizon just yet—short of helping to get Riven out the door—but I’m thrilled to finally be a part of this studio, officially, after thirty years of wistful pining. If my ancient Riven fanart is anything to go by, it's been a long time comin.'😎

[rosieyart]

my muse, my love, my darling…. shuichi side profile is so fun to draw aaaa

[dinofur]

Drew Phighting babies

[s0fter-sin]

pt.2 of my horror au! you can find pt.1 here!

cw mild horror, descriptions of a dead animal (not riley)

to say johnny’s gotten used to the man living in his walls would be the biggest lie he’s ever tried to spin. he doesn’t have a choice but to get used to him

he won’t let johnny leave

he’s always watching him, even if he can’t see him; the walls and ceiling groaning with his weight as he follows him throughout the house during the day, only ever peeking through the vents when the sun’s gone down. if he even gets close to the front door, the vents shake like he’s sprinting towards him and the sheer panic is enough to make him stumble back; his heart pounding in his chest

he was paralysed the first night he saw the man, clutching riley to his chest in the middle of the bed, just waiting for him to come back and do god knows what to them- but the walls were silent

if it weren’t for the lingering damp on his hand and the slight scrape on the side of the vent, johnny could almost convince himself the whole thing was just some twisted waking nightmare

it was only when the sun crept over the horizon that he dared to step off the bed, riley tight in his arms, and held his breath as he escaped out the front door-

only to feel smug eyes on the back of his head when he saw his car tires slashed and random pieces of the motor ripped out and strewn across the yard

the message was clear

johnny can’t leave

the man won’t let him

the next few days passed in a haze of dread. johnny kept waiting for the man to come back, never eating or sleeping except for the snatches his body forced him to take. he can fight but from the glimpse he caught of the man and the weight of the sounds in the walls, the man was big. even if he did knock him out, where could he go? it would take hours of running before he reached another house

he never let riley out of his sight, feeding him in his room after he tipped the wardrobe over in front of the vent. it was only then he realised his phone was missing too

he was utterly trapped; a rabbit with his leg broken, waiting for the jaws to close around him

but the man didn’t come back

johnny’s panic turned into rage. then after another week of nothing turned into confused acceptance and determination

if he can’t leave, he’s not going die in a house with moldy baseboards

“i’m going out the back!” johnny announces loudly in the dining room - the room with the most vents - and almost flinches when he hears the slight reverberations through them. “i’ll come back in when i’m done but i’m not gonna let you stop me from workin’!”

nothing answers him. not a creak or a groan or a scratch. just complete silence

he wishes it didn’t make him feel so much worse

johnny takes a deep breath and wills his hand not to shake as he reaches for the doorknob, wincing at its obnoxious creak, and waits

and waits

nothing

johnny blows out a long breath. “alright, then,” he whispers and looks down at riley waiting obediently at his side. “let’s get to work.”

so he keeps fixing it

he builds new frames for the windows and purposely doesn’t acknowledge the heavy gaze on his back every second he’s outside. he replaces the outlets and pulls out the phone line that looks like it’d been chewed through with teeth far too big to be a rat

definitely too big to belong to the skinned rat he finds in the dumbwaiter after following the smell of gored meat, bled dry and spread out like a gift

a gift offered after a day spent repairing the roof, riley sitting diligently at the base of the ladder. a day he didn’t step a single foot inside

a day he didn’t eat at all

johnny looks at the rat, really looks at it. the skin had been cleanly removed, the meat left undamaged; the guts removed from the abdominal cavity. it’s been perfectly cleaned and dressed like it came from a butcher

from a hunter, prepped and ready for eating

it sends a shiver through him. he swallows and gently shuts the dumbwaiter cover, sending the rat back down to the basement then knocks politely on the wall for good measure. he then takes a bunch of fillings from the fridge, some bread and a cutting board, turns off the light and sits in front of the nearest vent

and waits

his breath is so loud, his instincts screaming at him not to have him back to the room. but he knows the only threat in this house will come from directly in front of him

johnny flinches at a distant thud and an immediate scratching starts, starting in the basement and barreling straight towards him

he’s angry

he swears he can hear his heart racing in his chest as the vent in front of him thunks, something heavy and fast weighting it down- then everything abruptly falls silent

he can’t see him

but he knows he’s there

he’s always there

johnny swallows again and lays out the two pieces of bread on the board, the moonlight coming through the window the only illumination he has. the vent remains silent as he layers on deli ham and a few slices of cheese, finishing off with a couple pickles and mayo

he closes the sandwich up and, eyes flicking to the shadows in the vent, picks it up and takes a bite

he chews slowly and lets out a deliberate hum before he takes another bite, dragging it out like it’s the best damn sandwich he’s ever eaten

johnny swallows his last mouthful, sucks a drop of may off his thumb and braces himself. he stands up and turns his back on the vent. he putters around, puts the food away and fills a glass of water and at some point while he’s washing off the cutting board, the vent lightly groans as the man slowly climbs away

he shivers and wonders how crazy it makes him that the rattle almost sounds thoughtful

💀🧼

there’s a sandwich on the floor

johnny’s still trying to catch his breath after hauling all the old moldy baseboards outside, frozen in the action of wiping sweat off his forehead

the bread’s torn, ham and cheese and pickles clumsily and excessively thrown on with sauce dripping out the sides

but it’s a sandwich, sitting on top of his cutting board

johnny tugs off his gloves and slowly walks up to it. the walls are silent. but that doesn’t mean the man isn’t watching

he picks up the cutting board and a voice in the back of his head screams at him as he brings it in front of the kitchen vent and sits just like he did the other day when he made his own sandwich. he hides a preemptive grimace and picks it up-

but it’s not soggy

despite the amount of sauce piled on it and the juice from the near fistful of pickles, the bread is still soft

fresh

you waited for me, johnny realises and something in his chest catches. you waited until i was done and made sure it would be ready for me.

johnny blinks a few times and bites into the sandwich

he can’t remember the last time someone had a meal waiting for him

his ex certainly never did; he always had to be poked and prodded into cooking, never wanted to eat anything they already had or waste time making something when they could just order in. even in other relationships, sure they would ask if he was hungry or make an extra portion when he wasn’t home so he’d have leftovers

but no one’s ever cooked something just for him. just because they wanted to

johnny thickly swallows the last bite

and doesn’t flinch when he looks into the vent and sees the shine of eyes looking back at him

“thank you,” he whispers

the eyes twitch back, almost like the man flinched, then they cock to the side and sink down into the very edges of the darkness, blending into the shadows like a ghost

but he doesn’t leave

and neither does johnny until riley pokes him with his nose, looking for his own dinner

[theeroticlover]

Missed me ???

[non-un-topo]

POV: You're a tavern owner who just turned away a raccoon and an owl