#actually a great dad

[mermaidsirennikita]

Usually when I'm reading my brain doesn't assign characters any permanent, significant attributes and just kinda has them exist as blobs with names that it labels "hot" and "not hot." This makes fancasting super difficult, but for whatever reason the moment my brain read about Bourne it was like "oh that's Theo James." I honestly don't remember any visual description of him as a character cause my brain just goes "you don't need this information, you already know he's Theo James." This has never happened to me with any other character, idk why Bourne has me by the throat.

Dude are you in my brain because HARD SAME. During this re-read, I keep thinking of Theo. My perception of characters is similar to yours. When I do fancast, I'm often less about how much an actor is like the character's physical and more about how they fit the character's Vibe, but I think Theo happens to both fit the description of Bourne (tall, dark, handsome in a very classical way, but with a kind of arrogant, chip on his shoulder sense--not that Theo is necessarily that guy lmao, but he definitely plays that guy often) and the Vibe.

MacLean is never SUPER specific about her heroes physically, which I appreciate, save some defining features. (I often hate it when authors are overly specific in a way that makes it clear who they had in mind--and nothing makes me drop a book faster than a contemporary that outright compares a hero to a famous person, I will LOSE. MY MIND.) With Bourne, I think the main takeaway is: super hot in a conventional way that people in society notice without him having to make an effort (compared to Cross, who I think is supposed to be less immediately BAM in your face hot, but is super charismatic and slick as hell--Bourne doesn't have to be charismatic, what I'm saying is Bourne Has Pretty Privilege, he ain't slick, he thinks he is but he profoundly is nOT). Dark-haired... I think? (I don't think MacLean writes many blond heroes, tbh.) And when Penelope sees him in the beginning of the book, she basically says that he'd be beautiful if he didn't clearly have a darkness about him, aka his shitty attitude lmao.

Bourne also has me by the throat. He's honestly even better than I remembered. Has a gambling addiction--owns a gambling hell. In love with his childhood sweetheart--marries her and says it isn't about love at all. Finally realizes he's been an asshole and just sits there with a slab of beef on his eye because his friend just beat him up and is like "well what do I do NOW to be released from a prison ENTIRELY OF MY OWN MAKING!!!"

Also, the way he clearly has all these welled up memories of Penelope and like. So much affection. The way he's able to guess what she's trying to say during charades when nobody else can. The way she accidentally puts her tits on full display and he's like, leaning forward to get a better look (in front of her family, the SCANDAL). The way she praises him for getting the very obvious charades thing right and he like. Preens about it. He's like a junkyard dog that gets taken in and domesticated extremely easily and loves to sleep on your feet and do tricks for treats but when he sees a plastic bag he snarls at it because he needs you to remember he's a NASTY BIG BRAVE DOG.

Edit: just re-opened the book on to Bourne fantasizing about a row of little blond daughters and practically sighing with how much he wants to have Penelope's babies. As a note, one of the things I remember from a later book (I wanna say from her next series?) is the scandal sheets being like "local loser the Marquess of Bourne was seen climbing through a window to give his gaggle of daughters presents, is sad and pathetic now".

[blueskittlesart]

Dear Big Brother

kind of a sequel to this comic

[theerurishipper]

One thing I appreciate in The Batman (2004) show is the way Dick is always helping people up.

Like, my boy is always helping everyone out. It's such a Dick Grayson thing to do. I love that they put that little detail in there.

[haveihitanerve]

The comments were usual. Frequent even. Bruce bore them all with a smile, either acting like a bored teenager forced to attend the events he had planned, or blushing, sculpting the Brucie persona before he had even reached his twenties. 

“Oh Brucie!!!” They would twitter at him, women and men alike, pawing at his arms, his shoulders, chest, some even boldly reaching for his ass, snaking an arm around him, pulling him closer. “You look delicious baby.” They’d murmur, pur, coo over him. 

Alfred would get rightfully angry over the comments, when Bruce told him, but after the anger led to nothing, Bruce stopped coming home with the stories. He just went to bed, showering off all the handprints and touches. 

And then Dick came along.

“Bruuuuuuuuuce!” The nine year old whined, hissing the ending syllable like a snake. “I wanna gooooo!!!” Bruce chuckled lightly, fixing his cuffs in the mirror. 

“I highly doubt it chum.” He murmured, glancing over at his ward, seated on the foot of his bed. Dick pouted, the full package; lip out and arms crossed, and Bruce laughed, walking over to grab his tie and ruffle the boys hair. 

“Its a boring Gala, bud. Not too exciting.” Dick huffed, watching as Bruce expertly wound the tie around his neck, swinging the sides over and through. 

“Its a pARty!” He pointed out. “And I wanna go.” Bruce hummed to show he was listening, buttoning up the bottom two buttons of his suit, before letting his hands drop to his side. 

He sighed. “Do you want to wear a suit?” Dick’s eyes sparked up with excitement before he wrinkled his nose. 

“Do I hafta?” He complained. Bruce laughed, turning to face him. 

“Yes. Its a formal event. Suit, or you’re not coming.” The threat of a suit made the words take a moment to sink in, but once they did Dick rocketeded across the room, flying into Bruce’s arms. 

“For real???” He squealed, all excitement and little kid energy. “Hell yeah!” He bolted out the door to his own room before Bruce could so much as open his mouth to chide “language.” 

The car ride over was a new level of annoyance Bruce didn't know existed, as Dick bounced around in his seat, eagerly looking out the window for the first glimpse of his first “real adult party”. Still, he couldn't help but smile at Dick's unbridled joy.  

Hank, Bruce’s chauffeur, bore all of it with a smile, regaling Dick with stories of picking up Bruce when he was a teenager, and all the college hell, while Dick cackled and Bruce rolled his eyes. But, then again, Hank had his own three kids at home, and was marginally more used to the watts of energy than Bruce was. 

“Here ya are Mr. Wayne.” Hank finally cut off all of Dick’s peppering questions about Bruce’s college stories, a relief, as Hank was really getting into the bad stuff, or in Dicks mind, the good stuff, and Bruce hopped out, opening the door for his son. “Thank you!” Dick twittered as he leapt out, waving. 

Hank chuckled, dipping his hat. “Of course Mr. Wayne, hope you have a fun night.” Dick grinned back, and it surprised Bruce that he was so okay with hank calling him “Wayne.” But, then again, his boy and the driver seemed to have an easier relationship. Bruce certainly wasn't going to call him out. 

It did something to him, flooded his body with something heavy and warm, to hear Dick be called “Wayne”. Maybe a primal thing, an old animal instinct, the need to claim and own and have Dick. Dick was his son, maybe not by blood, but by… everything and anything Dick allowed him to have. 

“B!” Dick chirped, already a few feet up the steps, a frown on his face as he looked back. Bruce realized he’d been lost in thought at the side of the road. 

“Coming chum.” He agreed quickly, hurrying to his wards side before the entered. 

“Woah.” Dick breathed, the second they breached the door, and Bruce silently agreed. Gala’s weren’t fun for a plethora of reasons, but they were always beautiful. 

Almost immediately though, camera’s swarmed him, not only flashes of light but also of sickeningly white teeth, too wide mouths, pale skin pawing for his attention. 

“Brucie, darling!!!” One man twittered, and they successfully separated them, dragging Bruce over to one gaggle of rich twats while a few others circled Dick. Dick seemed to be taking it remarkably well, nodding politely and smiling, shaking hands, but his eyes darted to Bruce every few seconds, questions in his eyes. 

“Excuse me-” Bruce brushed past his virus of people and forced his way beside Dick, kneeling so he was at eye level.

“Everything alright?” he murmured quietly, tucking Dick into his space, warding off others. He almost wanted to say “i told you so” but figured it’d only do more harm than good. Pointing it out when Dick was clearly overwhelmed would not be helpful, or nice in any capacity. 

Dick nodded, shoulders imperceptibly dropping in relief as he allowed himself to be caged by Bruce’s body. “Y-yeah. Fine. Better now.” Bruce let the unspoken words hang between them, “-that you’re here”, and nodded instead, standing. 

“Stay close.” he flicked his fingers and Dick obediently stepped closer, pushing into Bruce’s space with hardly a thought.

And, Bruce realized quietly, he didn't mind either. Having people in his space… touch had never been his thing, after his parents death. Especially not when that touch came from unsympathetic elites after his parents money. But with Dick… it was, easier. Nice. 

The rest of the night went by a little better, and Dick even stepped away a few feet, always close by, but straying enough that he wasn't hiding behind Bruce’s legs. In his shadow. It was then that it happened. 

“Oh aren’t you just beautiful.” The words came from Mrs. Braught, a well known widow with enough wealth to compete with the Drakes, if not Waynes. She was… known for her affinity to younger men, boys, really, and Bruce had only managed to not make the cut because he had known, as a boy, and avoided her, and wasn’t as “appealing” to her, due to his depression. 

Dick stiffened slightly at the words, but still offered her a smile, polite, as always. The reaction made Bruce relax marginally. He was okay, he was handling it, just like Bruce had. 

But… but Dick’s smile was strained, his shoulders inching near his ears, and there was a definite tilt to him, a lean away from Braught that was easy to miss. But not to Bruce. 

Before he knew what he was doing, Bruce was at his wards side- no, in front of him, shoving Dick behind his legs. Dick stumbled, lightly, at the sudden push, but quickly straightened, grabbing the back of Bruce’s coat. The trembling Bruce could feel through the fabric was enough to make him see red. 

The Brucie persona was gone, slipping off without a singe thought, fast enough that Bruce wondered for a fraction of a second if it had even been on when he had entered the Gala, and Bruce realized it wasn't just Dick’s hand trembling, but Bruce’s whole body. 

His fists curled, hard enough that his knuckles turned white, jaw clenched to the point where his teeth squeaked, entire body quivering with rage. 

Mrs. Braught glanced up, surprised, almost caught off guard even, as she realized Brucie Wayne wasn't there for a pleasant hello, but Bruce was there, a man- no, a father, furious at what was being said about his son. 

Bruce could hear, faintly, as though through water, people beginning to whisper, eyes wide as the elites gathered around, no one bold enough to step in, and no one truly believing Brucie would do anything. 

Bruce didn't care. Dick was his, and he would not allow the traumas of the past to repeat, though he had failed to stop him from being orphaned. No more. He vowed, hands fisting at his sides. He had failed Dick in the one, true way that mattered, keeping his family, but he would not fail him any other way. Not in the ways Bruce was failed. 

His hand began to move back on its own accord, when a tiny, stubborn hand caught it, grabbed his wrist. Bruce looked down in surprise to find Dick staring up him solemnly, shaking his head.

Before Bruce could say something, another woman, another widow Bruce recognized as Mrs. Kershaw, stepped forward, fire bright in her weathered eyes. 

“You go on and git out of here Gertrude, before I tar your hide.” She hissed, and Bruce recalled how her own daughter had been raped and murdered when she had been barely thirteen. Gertrude knew it too, and backed away, scurrying for the exit. Mrs. Kershaw made sure she left, eyes kind when she glanced at Bruce, a subtle nod of solidarity her only acknowledgement. 

Dick tugged on his hand, but Bruce ignored him, sending a viscous glare at anyone who dared step too close. 

“Dad.” Dicks voice was soft, so soft, but proud too, grateful. That finally dragged Bruce from his never ending anger, and he looked down. Down at those wide blue eyes, that head of messy black curls.

“Come on Dad.” Dick whispered quietly, eyes darting around nervously at all the people, the cameras, but always going back to Bruce. Meeting his eyes. 

Bruce bent down and scooped his son into his arms, uncaring of who saw, who cared. He blocked his son off from the world, heading for the exit, one of the waitstaff, Aisha, nodding at him to inform him Hank had been called. 

“Thanks Dad.” Dick murmured, face buried against Bruce’s neck, and Bruce’s arms tightened around him, heading out into the streets of Gotham with his son cradled to his chest. 

“I’ll always protect you chum.” He swore, and something in his heart lightened at the Justice he was doing for his son, but also for his younger self. “I will always protect you.” 

thanks to @frownyalfred and @astorianyxkings for the idea!

[lazylittledragon]

pls dad astarion i beg of you

as much as i really want to i don’t know how much sense it makes, so for now let’s just be unserious

[arkangelo-7]

I hc that after Bruce’s infamous spine-breaking fight with Bane, all the Batkids pitch in and get Bruce one of those super bougie gamer chairs for the Bat-Computer. Like this thing is all leather, it’s got cup holders and LED lights, and that bad boy swivels smoother than butter.

It’s also bright fucking red. Robin red.

[divineandmajesticinone]

4 MINUTES (2024) I EP 5 "How about this. How much do you want? Give me a number."

[bigfootsmom]

please tell him he did a good job. just look at his face….tell him he gets a good grade in making a baby. it took him nine months he’s very proud.

my commission info

my kofi

[north-noire]

My Michael Afton throughout the years! ft. his own little doodles. I'll try to be brief about the timeline and how my Michael was without saying too much since it'll be explored in the Hidden Hands AU fic's chapters anyway so I won't say all the details. Feel free to read if you guys like! I have a lot to say about him.

1983 (FNAF 4) - Michael was 12 or 13-ish when the Bite happened. Very reckless yet adventurous kid. Didn't really hate Evan (William, as much as he had a soft spot for Evan, still loved Michael all the same), just had really bad friends and influence (his friends were mostly bullies) - and didn't really like that he's being told to parent a little brother he had no idea how to take care of. It didn't help that Evan tended to be a tattle-tail sometimes about the trouble he was getting into. Michael also, deep down, got scared of what the bullies would do to him if he dared stand up for his brother or spoke out against them, so he ends up going along with what they did for his own sake. After the Bite, Michael was still deeply guilty about what he did to Evan, and it haunts him every night, knowing he had no good excuse but irresponsibility for what he did to his brother, because after all, it wasn't like William wasn't giving him enough attention. Michael just knew that he deserved anything unfortunate coming to him, but is genuinely surprised that his father kept telling him he loved him all the same. From this point on, he becomes easily troubled, tends to stay close to his dad. Makes sure he follows the rules and doesn't do trouble. Just wants to do a complete personality shift, and is deeply ashamed of who he was before. 1985 (Charlie's death, Fredbear's Family Diner shuts down) - Michael was 15 here. Over the years, he slowly isolated himself from most of the people in his life since he gets worried about his past scars coming back to haunt him. Mostly a recluse and reserved. He's not handling things well after Charlie's death and a family divorce - not to mention the non-existent social life he had. Just prefers to be left alone, but he's nice if you get to know him. Doesn't really have a good relationship with Elizabeth, but is actually pretty close with William. Feels extremely guilty and hates himself/blames himself for Charlie's death. He gets paranoid easily, as he thinks whoever took Charlie is now after him, but his father tells him to not worry too much about it. 1987 (FNAF 2) - (17) Slowly having a good relationship with Elizabeth. Starts to get into stuff like the supernatural and becomes superstitious to a degree over the years. In public, he's mostly polite and nice, but his actual personality shows through whenever he's with his father or Elizabeth - he's sarcastic, and has quite a dark sense of humor, can be a bit of a rebel, he's just more subtle about it. A bit of an over-thinker - he gets lost in his imagination/head easily. Has a (surprisingly) good relationship with his dad, as he's not really afraid to be himself around him - sometimes gifts him funny things or something he knows his dad would love/would use (he gifts William a rabbit's foot - for good luck, he says). He also helped William build the Fun-Times with blueprints and other technicalities (He's not really aware of the questionable features they had, unfortunately). He couldn't really come with his father and Elizabeth on Circus Baby's Pizza World opening due to things he had to catch up with his home-schooling, he had been skipping classes to work on the Fun-Times, but he really wanted to graduate highschool with a bang, so he's giving everything his all, here. Then Elizabeth suddenly goes missing all of a sudden, and, well... I would say more, but my fic sort of takes a canon-divergence route around FNAF 2/SL-FNAF 1 so that would spoil half of the stuff I've been working/writing about! Reference-sheet wise, I just wanted to show how he progresses from a rebellious, happy and adventurous kid into a more reclused, anxious and soft-spoken adult. Sorry for the long post! I've just been wanting to talk about him for some time now. There's a looot more that I've left out but yeah that's because there will be more in the fic!

[luminique]

You don't have to do this but I NEED me some Lighter as an adopted older brother or has a baby with the reader. I'm a sucker for big brother or fatherly things!!

‘it’s a rough life out here in the outer ring.’ those words echoed through his head as he scooped up the little baby wrapped up in a blanket. it’s face was all red, seemed to be a few weeks old at most, but he didn’t recall seeing this small package here before. its cries were quiet, due to it being muffled by its own blanket.

the hatred he had in his heart could not overtake how much it throbbed at the sight of such a small bundle of joy, pressed up into his chest as he cradled it to sleep. how was he going to explain this to the rest of the girls? how was he going to explain this to you? but more importantly, how was he going to bring it back without waking it from the loud roar of his bike? piper’s driving was out of the question and calling all of the girls over would just scare it even more.

as he made his way back to his bike, the baby’s little fingers had found its way to his scarf, tugging at it gently. once he had sat down on his bike, he carefully removed his scarf and used it to cover up the precious baby. it was preoccupied enough to not notice him turn on the engine but now was the difficult part; driving back one handed while ensuring it doesn’t wake up.

slowly, he was able to arrive back, a lot later than usual however. he was carefully shushing the baby, stroking its cheek so gently as he made his way to the fire pit. he paid no mind to lucy questioning his absence, nor did he try to entertain caesar’s invitation for a spar. he flopped down on the couch, the warm fire reflecting off of his shades. he looked around for you, desperately wanting some sort of reassurance in this situation.

of course the girls had immediately swarmed him but the moment their eyes landed on the little bundle of joy in his arms, they immediately softened up. awww’s and ooh’s could be heard, like a weirdly harmonized symphony. not before long, your head popped through the crowd and it felt like he had let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

the baby was so good, barely making a noise as he carefully handed it to you, albeit a little clumsily. however, it’s little hand was wrapped around lighter’s finger, gripping it like it’s life depend on it. “this little one really likes you, huh?” you’d try teasing him but he was using all of his power to not just melt at the sight.

he didn’t know he was such a softie. yeah, the Sons of Calydon have made fun of him for being soft once in a while, especially when it came to you, and he knew it but constantly denied it. now seeing you cradling this baby, cooing at it, something in his chest felt warm and it was definitely not from the fire.

after a few minutes, the baby started crying and of course everyone went into a panic. they scrambled around, trying to figure out what had occurred and it turned out that the baby just needed a change of diapers. a kind mother nearby living nearby was more than happy to assist, teaching how to clean and feed. no one ever told you about how stressful it is to handle a crying, squirming baby but after changing it’s diapers and giving it some milk, this was when you realized that the little baby was a girl.

everyone was exhausted and the girls had gone to rest in their rooms. it was fun nonetheless but taking care of a baby is a lot more work than you thought. you flopped back on to the couch, baby still in hand, slowly patting her to sleep. lighter followed you around, wanting to keep the baby close in his sight.

“what should we do with her?” you quietly asked, eyes slowly closing as the baby’s breathing could be felt on your chest.

‘it’s a rough life out here in the outer ring’ there it was again. that same voice in his head. was it telling him to keep the baby? or was it telling him that staying here isn’t the best option? the proxies down in sixth street might know an adoption pla-

he felt your head resting on his shoulder, the slow rise and fall of your chest. a bundle of joy, all wrapped up in his scarf, gripping it tightly like how she did with his finger. as long as he had you, he was sure she would be brought up well. the other members of the Sons of Calydon would also not reject because that’s another girl for them to adore.

he removed his sunglasses, taking one last look at her small face before resting himself. then he looked at you, clearly exhausted yet keeping still for the baby. they say it takes a village to raise a child, he’ll come to understand if it’s true. the start of a new life, for not just this abandoned baby, but for him too.

[blaithnne]

CBS Ghosts is my new guilty pleasure so take my new OCs. The Blanchet family were distant French cousins of the Woodstones who visited the house in the early 1900s, only for a violent house robbery to take the life of their youngest daughter, Mercedes, and her loyal self appointed guard dog, Horse. Only 8 years old, it takes some time for Mercedes to understand her fate, and for some time she’d be very distressed that her family seem to be ignoring her. On the bright side, the other ghosts are there to try and make things easier, though the misfit collective have a hard time caring for a child given their circumstances, and conflicting ideas on how best to raise a little girl.

Of all the ghosts, she is closest with Thorfinn. He has a soft spot for the little girl.

[fistfuloflightning]

Winterfell

[sunshinepixels]

Merry Christmas

some bonus shots that didn't fit aka night shots of the house, ig we can call it the night before christmas

[unluckedtj]

“If I don’t have this, I might just fall apart.”

[astro-nomaly]

Been thinking about Dragons Rising, and I haven’t seen anyone else mention this, but: the departed realm also merged. It’s probably secluded away somewhere so all the spirits and dead people can’t get out, but wouldn’t it make sense for a spirit to slip past if, say, they had a living body outside of the realm? A body missing half of it’s soul?

There’s a real possibility that Garmadon’s human side has reconnected with his Oni body, and he’s out there somewhere, all his memories and personality intact, looking for Lloyd. Like, maybe he’s stuck in Oni form, maybe he can freely shift, whatever. The point is that he would have his memories back. That his humanity was intact again.

One: it would be the perfect end to the Garmadon angst. It’s consumed so much of Lloyd’s character, but how he has kids and Ras and conduit shit to deal with. After Crystalized, he already sort of accepted Garmadon as he was, but Garmadon returning to his pre-resurrection state would wrap up their relationship. Also, how convenient would it be for Lloyd to finally have an adult to lean on and guide him? Sensei G would be so helpful dealing with the Forbidden Five, and putting him in the Tournament of Sources would be a fantastic callback to Tournament of Elements.

AKA Ninjago put me in that writers room right now

[bookinit02]

guys i. literally last night i read a nonfiction piece at writer’s open mic. not that unusual. my favorite professor was there. Slightly unusual. afterwards he knelt down by me in TEARS and told me to never stop writing. boom. instantly started sobbing. what is WRONG WITH HIM