#I do think that I need to get better about drawing teddy consistently

[modu-lars]

Here’s all of my Pink Ranger Teddy pics so far!

[scorpiobitch95]

Summary: You try convince Walter to love your favorite snack throughout your years together. The best dates are shared over cereal, after all.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: sugary sweet fluff, implied smut — nothing graphic, snarkiness, grumpy Walter to fluffy Walter, cursing, cuteness overload.

Author's Note: I let myself get carried away with this one. I needed grumpy but sweet Walter in my life. I hope you enjoy!

Edited by myself, sorry not sorry for the errors.

Taglist: @justaboringadult @greensleeves888 @cavillsharman @beck07990 @summersong69 @myloveforhenrycavill @kebabgirl67

Taglist for this fic: @lumiousmoon

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, or claiming any ideas or parts as your own.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

It started when you and Walter were early dating.

💋

“Mmmm, pause. I need a snack.” Uncurling yourself from Walter’s warm body on the couch, you made your way to the kitchen to find something to cure your hunger. You called behind you, “Want anything, Marsh?”

“Whatever you’re having... I’ll have the same.”

“Cereal it is!” You pulled the ceramic bowls from the cabinet and opened the fridge to grab the milk. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Walter’s face scrunch in confusion. “What?”

“Cereal? Absolutely not,” Walter scoffed. “Would you grab me those spicy crisps?”

“Spicy chips, coming right up.” Vernacular was the subject of an ongoing heated debate with the Brit: the great ‘Names for Snacks Debate’ was especially hostile.

Once settled back under the blanket and snuggled into his side once more, you unpaused the movie. The energy in the room shifted, you could sense that you were being watched, but you refused to look up to look at Walter’s face. The judgment coming from the bear of a man who crunched his chips beside you was glaring.

"Stop it," you told him as you kept your eyes on the movie.

Walter didn’t say a word. His eyes traveled back to the TV but kept finding their way back to you.

“Walt, what is it? Is there something on my face?” You giggled at him lightly, unsure of what was bothering him.

“You really chose that for a snack?” His face was bewildered as if you were eating a bowl of Jeep parts.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t eat cereal as a snack.” He shook his head curtly, wearing a look of disgust. Your eyebrows crinkled together as you followed by asking, “Not even as a quick dinner?”

“Cereal is meant for one time and one place, and that’s sometimes in the mornings for breakfast. That's why they call it breakfast cereal, love. Not dinner cereal, not snack cereal... Do you also eat cereal for lunch?” He was poking fun at you now.

“No, I’m not a heathen, Walter. Here, try a bite, just trust me. It’s amazing as a movie snack.”

His eyes were wide as a grimace was sent in your direction, “You’re crazy — no one does that.”

“Plenty of people do that,” you stated matter-of-factly.

“I’m really not the biggest fan…” Walter sighed and settled further into the couch, preparing for your exasperation that he knew was soon to follow.

“WHAT. Not the biggest fan of cereal? I’m sorry, you were sheltered as a child, weren’t you? There's cereal out there for everyone, Walt. Come on, try it.” You scooped a spoonful of your sugary Cinnamon Toast Crunch and held it to him. He reluctantly obliged your wishes, eating the bite but keeping a look of pain on his face for the entire time he chewed.

"See? Delicious. Ice-cold, crunchy, sweet, perfect." A sugary grin accompanied your playful tone, and Walter shook his head again, exaggerating his distaste for having to chew such an atrocity.

"Mhm. Definitely delicious." Your goofy bear was simmering under the surface of his scouring demeanor, though he stuck his tongue out in mock disgust.

"You're not the biggest fan," you muttered under your breath and rolled your eyes for dramatic effect. "I'll show you."

💋

Standing in the grocery store, you and Walter were having a battle of wits, arguing on the subject of your sweet tooth.

“I’m just trying to show concern for your dental health since you obviously won’t; all that sugar isn’t good for you.” Walter stood stern with his arms crossed, unmoving and solid like a brick wall.

“I appreciate your worry, Dad, but I’m going to keep eating it because I love it. One day, I bet I’ll convince you and you’ll be eating it with me. Plus, my dental health is immaculate, my dentist said so.”

The expression on Walter's face was unwavering as his eyebrows raised in a non-verbal challenge to your declaration.

“I don’t know how you can stand to eat that crap,” he muttered, thinking you couldn’t hear him.

“Oh no, don’t you dare, you grump! I don’t get on you about your snacks, back off mine. ” Despite his unnecessary grouchiness, you placed a hand on his crossed arms and raised up on your toes to give him a soft kiss on his bearded face. “Balance, babe. It’s all about balance.” You dug your way through his arms to find his hands and you drug him a little further down the cereal aisle.

“Come on, grumbly, pick out a cereal you think you might enjoy, for experiment’s sake.”

💋

“Fuck, babe. I’m going to be late, we just got called out on another accident. I am so sorry… I’m not sure when I’ll be home.” Walter had been working a ton lately, and his irritation with just how much he’d been working was starting to show. The two of you had been together for a few months now and had started to grow accustomed to having the other around consistently. You both became out of sorts when you hadn’t seen each other in a while.

“Don’t even worry about it, Walter. Just be careful, please... You should still come over when you’re finished tonight, but no pressure if you’re exhausted.”

“Of course, still need to kiss you goodnight. I can’t sleep if I haven’t.”

Walter Marshall might be a grump, but that grump could make your heart flutter in ways that you’d never felt before. Maybe it was that his sweetness and his charms were completely reserved for you and you alone. His teddy bear nature only appeared when he was near you.  After putting back the ingredients for dinner to save for another night, you went to change into your sweats.

Walter appeared at your front door at 12:30 that night, nearly asleep but still standing strong. You’d dozed off on the couch after his call, but were immediately energized again when you saw his beautiful form standing in your doorway.

“Hello, I’m here to have a very late night date with an incredibly beautiful woman,” Walter said, the gravel in his voice making you shiver. Despite his exhaustion, Walter managed to smile at you with one of the biggest smiles you’d ever seen him manage.

You smirked, waving him inside. “Get in here, Bear.”

Walter reached his arms out to you, inviting you into his embrace. Your arms wrapped around his thick torso and you ran your hands up and down his sweater-clad back; he melted into you and burrowed his face into your neck. Walter released an exhaustive exhale. It was heavy and forceful, as though he’d been holding it back behind a stone barricade for the entirety of his day. Warmth flooded your body as his words vibrated from his chest, “Mmm... I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. Let’s get you fed. Preferences?”

Still snuggled in your neck, he gave his reply, “Nothing heavy, please. I don’t want to fall asleep at the table. That wouldn’t make for a good date.”

“Oh Walter, we can postpone date night, you need to eat something and get to bed. It’s nearly one,” you observed gently as you leaned your head back to get a better look at his face.

“No. I came here to have a date night. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day. I need you.” Walter’s warm lips caressed your forehead, placing soft kisses on you. “You think you’re still up for it?”

Nodding at him sweetly, you untangled from his embrace and went to tumble through the fridge, offering out suggestions for food, but he insisted, yet again, that you don’t go to any trouble.

“Okay… you’re going to hate it, but my last option is cereal. Other than that, it’s gonna be random leftovers.” You continued moving containers around in the fridge, taking stock of what you had left from the week before.

“Actually, I think I can handle some cereal.” You whipped your head around incredulously to look and heckle him, but he gruffly interrupted, pointing a finger at you from where he sat at your kitchen table. "Don't. Don't start. It's been a brutal day, and something cold doesn't sound half bad."

You smirked in silence as you turned back and poured your bowls, dancing your hips lightly side to side. Grabbing the candles you had left out for your dinner date, you lit them and placed them gently on the table between the two of you. It was date night, after all.

“Late night cereal date, it is.” Reaching down to caress his chin, you kissed one bearded cheek before sitting beside him. Walter’s lips held a slight curl, softly smiling at your glee.

💋

“Love, snack break?”

The two of you were engaged in an intense game of Scrabble, one of your favorite date-night-in traditions. Nodding your head in Walter’s direction, you continued to study your letters and the board with pure focus until you heard the twinkling sound of cereal hitting ceramic.

Not wanting to draw too much attention, you peeked up from your letter rack to make sure your ears weren’t deceiving you. Walter was not just making a bowl for you, but he was also making one for himself.

No way.

Walter made his way back to the table with the cereal, and you looked up at him in shock as though you hadn’t already noticed what he’d done.

“What is this? What is this I see? Walter Marshall choosing breakfast cereal as a snack? Why, I just cannot believe it.” Mock-surprise overtook your form as you motioned fake mind-blowing explosions from your head. Walter rolled his eyes.

“I figured If I can learn to like you, I can learn to like cereal.”

“HEY.”

Walter shrugged, retaking his seat at the table.

You squinted your eyes at him as you declared, “You’re going down for that. And I don’t just mean by losing this game.” A wicked grin crossed your face when you played your double score word:

“CHEERIO”

💋

Walter worked a lot of graveyard shifts while you were dating and during your early years of marriage while you worked a normal 8-5. Sometimes the only moments that you could see each other were when he came home from his shift early in the mornings before you started your day or in the evenings when you got home before he left to start his.

One early morning during your engagement, Walt showed up unannounced after a hard few nights at the PD. He was worn down but happy to see you, smiling through his exhaustion. This was the longest you’d been apart in a while; you hadn't seen each other in 4 days. You kissed him, lips attacking his while his arms snaked around you and pulled you tightly to his body. He hadn’t even come into the house yet.

Pulling him inside, your hands reached up to hold his scruffy face as you placed a more gentle kiss on his lips. “Babe, have you had dinner? Let’s get you something to eat… what would you like?”

He unfastened his holster, dropping it on the table by the door. Sinking into a chair, Walter bent over to untie his boots as he answered, “Honestly, anything is fine, just some kind of food.”

“I can cook you something! Why don’t you let me —“

“Sweet, don’t go to any trouble. I just want to see you before you go to work.”

He looked at the table where you had just sat down to a bowl of cereal for a quick breakfast before he arrived and pointed lazily to it. “That, I’ll take some,” he said, sleep trying to overtake his form.

Slowly grinning at his statement, you mentioned, "Isn't this technically your dinner time?" Walter wasn’t amused as he tilted his head to look at you as you gasped playfully, “You do realize you're about to eat cereal for dinner, right, Marsh?" Too sleepy to give his verbal rebuttal, he glared at you, the corners of his lips turning up slightly, which was your signal to accept your victory and move on.

Smiling softly back at him, you made your way to pour him a big bowl and made him a cup of piping hot tea to accompany it. Watching his face as he ate, you observed the little creases and purple-gray rings that had formed around his deep ocean-blue eyes. His beard was unkempt and had grown past its normal length just in the few days you’d been apart; you could see this was a new level of exhaustion.

“Tough night?” You asked him, moving your chair closer to him.

He nodded. “Very.” The nights were becoming more strenuous recently. Ever since he had switched to the detective unit, work had been holding him hostage and was taking a toll more than he’d like to admit.

His hand reached over to squeeze the free one lying on your lap. “I’m happy to see you, love.” The hard lines on his face softened as he traced lazy circles on the back of your hand with his calloused thumb. You could see in his eyes that he meant it, that you were his safe space. Walter always was in protection mode, always on alert, even though you tried to keep him at ease when he was with you. He was only really ever at ease once he was home and you were safe in his arms.

The food began to rouse him from sleepiness, and as he gained alertness, Walter’s brow furrowed as he took notice of the cereal box sitting on the dining table. “This is the one we’re eating? I expected you to be eating more of one of those tooth-rotting cereals that you love so much.” He looked over at the box of Honey Bunches of Oats with curiosity and then back at you, lifting what you called his ‘detective eyebrow.’

“This is… surprisingly somewhat better for you? Or at least it acts like it is.”

“Oh come on, I’m not that bad. I only let you believe that I am. It is my breakfast time after all,” you winked at him knowingly.

“Good to know my words are finally starting to sink in. I mean, it’s not that much better for you,” he was reading the box now, “but at least it isn’t borderline fluorescent, like those artificial fruity ones you’re always eating.”

“You know, it’s almost like I expect the hate and just enact my deflection shield every time you walk in the door.” You started giggling, unable to keep a straight face as you threw your arms in front of your face as a shield to his words. “Don’t worry, Walt, my guilty pleasure cereal collection is well-stocked. And quit hating on my Fruity Pebbles.”

💋

Slowly over time, these seemingly random cereal dates became a large foundation for quality time. These dates became like snapshots, each one memorable in its own way.

When you two hadn’t seen each other in days, you caught up over a cold bowl of sugary sweetness. You, telling all the details of your days; him, quietly listening and trying his best to leave his nights behind.

From then on, all it took was knowing you could have a cereal date mixed in the chaos of everyday life. Anytime things got hard or heavy, it was time to have a cereal date. Anytime you had a fight: you both would pause and make a bowl of cereal, sitting across the table from each other so that you could speak your feelings. There weren’t many of the world’s problems, or your own, that couldn’t be solved over sugary cereal and cold milk.

💋

You’d dragged Walter to your shared bed as soon as he’d arrived home, having not seen him for more than a few minutes at a time for the past month. This current case of his was intense and ongoing, but he was finally finished. You knew he was defeated in energy, but you were ovulating and your hormones were raging. Your body craved his touch and the feel of his skin gliding upon your own.

The plan was to go to dinner for a romantic evening since it had been a long while since that had been possible, but as soon as he walked through the door, your feral sexuality washed over you and you jumped into his arms. You clung to him with your face in his neck, taking in his scent and the warmth of his strong arms holding you up. He clung to you just as tightly. There was no complaint from the bear, for he was more than happy to spend the evening spoiling his lover.

Cuddling in the afterglow of your countless orgasms, a storm raged outside as tree limbs slapped at your windows incessantly.

“Wow, it sounds awful out there. I know we were going out, but I think that point is moot now.” You glanced up at Walter, kissing his jaw. “Let’s just cook something easy instead.”

“That sounds great, and we can stay naked.” Walt’s eyebrows danced flirtatiously as he grinned down at you, his hands caressing your warm skin. “I’ll go hunt around so I can keep my woman energized for the night ahead. We are nowhere near done.”

He’d only been gone a minute when a crack of thunder shook the house and the lights went dark. You heard his mumbling coming from the kitchen; he had called in to get a status update from the energy company.

Walking back into the bedroom, Walter, in his naked glory, walked over to where you laid, illuminated only by the candle he held in his hand. Wow, your husband was delicious.

"Power’s out for the whole city. It’ll take hours since this storm doesn’t have an end in sight. Looks like a hot dinner is off the table… and no one will deliver in this weather. I guess we know what’s for dinner." Setting the candle on the nightstand, he crawled back into bed.

Feeling seductive, despite being completely spent from your ravenous love-making mere minutes beforehand, you still hadn’t had your fill of your husband. You bit your lip as you ran your eyes up and down his exquisite body and cheekily replied, “Me, I hope.”

He chuckled lowly, the fangs in his pearly-white smile glinting at you in the candlelight. “You? Yes. I plan to feast on you all night long, kitten. But you’re going to need some sustenance first.” He was hovering over you. You couldn’t help yourself as you reached to run your fingers along his hairy chest and wrapped a leg around his hip, pulling him closer to you.

"Make it a cereal date?" You grinned at him.

“You read my mind.”

💋

“Our child is going to come out looking like the Lucky Charms Leprechaun if you don’t change it up some, love.”

Your cravings were intense. You’d heard several different views from your girlfriends and sisters: some craved random things they never even liked before, and some craved more of the things that they already loved and ate religiously before pregnancy. You fell into the latter. Cereal was your most sought-after snack: a big surprise to no one.

There weren’t many cliche late-night ice cream runs, but there were plenty of cereal and milk runs. Walter was a dutiful dad already, not lecturing you too often on what you wanted; he knew you were doing what you had to for the baby, and you ate healthily enough… aside from the copious amounts of junk cereal.

True to numerous other times in your life, date nights were hard to come by, even still. Sometimes the only dates you and Walter would get were in the wee hours of the morning when you’d wake up with a craving.

Walter was extremely doting, and even though he’d always been a caretaker, he really came into his own when you both learned you were to become parents. He’d crawl from the bed without a word, rummaging in the kitchen to bring you a bowl of your favorite and even bringing a small one for himself. You two would snuggle in the bed and talk. Talk about your baby, about future babies, about the future, about your dreams, all of it. You never knew when you met the grumpy bear that he would become this sweet of a man, always tender with you even when he was rough. Maybe it was the cereal sugar that had sweetened him up, at least you’d like to think so.

💋

Your daughter had been in the world for a little over three weeks, and neither you nor Walter had gotten much sleep since her arrival.

Walter finally got her down to sleep while you watched from the nursery doorway. You hadn’t had a meal together or slept at the same time for more than 10 minutes in weeks.

He was standing over her crib, resting his arms on the side as he watched her sleep. He was infatuated with this tiny human who had completely taken hold of his heart.

“Honey, join me for a date?” Your smile was tired, and as your bear’s exhausted eyes met yours, you wondered if you two shouldn’t just go to bed, but you missed him. You’d barely gotten the chance to praise him for how good of a daddy he was to your little girl.

“Mhm, gladly. Our usual?” He quietly followed you to the living room, where the coffee table had already been set up with the works. Craving the feel of his touch on your skin, you both sat on the couch and you laid your legs across his lap while you enjoyed the serenity of each other’s company.

💋

A chill glided across your skin as you awoke from a dream. You rolled over, reaching your arms out to find your sturdy man, searching for his warmth. Instead, you found cold bedsheets.

Unlike Walter to not be in bed with a furry arm draped over you, you pulled on your robe and went to find him, a slight worry filling your mind.

Surely he would have woken me if he’d had to go in?

As you stepped into the hallway, you heard hushed giggles and whispers coming from the kitchen. You stopped to poke your head into your kids’ rooms. Their beds were empty.

At least it’s Saturday.

Quietly pitter-pattering to your kitchen, you peered your head around the corner to find one of the sweetest sights your eyes had ever seen: your two babes, 8 and 5, were playing a princess board game at the table with your Bear. Cereal by their side, giggles ensued as the sugar hit their systems and they tried their best to keep quiet.

Walter’s deep whisper quietly filled the space. “Shh, girls. We can’t wake Mum, she needs her rest.”

“Can I have more Cap’n Crunch, Daddy?” Your youngest had an insatiable sweet tooth, just like her mama. She was quietly bouncing in her chair and smiling a toothy grin at her daddy.

“You’re just like your mum,” Walter beamed at her, obliging her wishes. “Just a little more, love, then we need to brush our teeth and get back to sleep.”

Not wanting the girls to know that you knew about their secret, you decided to make your way back to bed, but not before catching your husband’s eye as he winked at you and a grin radiated from his face.

Warm tingles filled your body as you silently thanked the universe for Walter and the life that the two of you had built together. Walter was the best dad and husband in the world. How had you gotten so lucky?

💋

“Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Golden Grahams, love?” Walter called to you from the kitchen.

The movie was selected, the kids were away for the evening sleeping at friend’s houses, and you and Walter were having a much-deserved night in.

You called back to him, “I’m thinking I’m going to skip the cereal? I’m not really feeling it tonight. I will, however, eat the spicy chips. Oh, and grab that dip out of the fridge, will ya?”

“For the last time, they are crisps.” Annoyance was evident by his tone.

“They’re chips, Walter. You’ve lived in the states for how long now? Just give it up already.”

“No fucking way. Wait… You don’t want cereal? Are you feeling alright?” Walter’s head popped into the doorway that connected the kitchen to the living room, his face stern with confusion and concern.

“Ehh, not right now. Yes, I’m fine, Marsh,” you giggled. “Just feeling like something different for once.”

“Well, that’s shocking. I’m just wondering if you’re really my wife.” Giggles continued to flow out of you as he wandered back to where you were seated. He handed you your snack, and plopped on the couch next to you, cuddling into you as you tossed a blanket over both of your bodies. Walter started the movie and began to chow down on the bowl of cereal he’d made for himself. You couldn’t control the smirk that spread across your lips as you watched him out of the corner of your eye.

“What?” he asked, his mouth full of the golden and cinnamon squares. His eyes met yours, questioning you.

“I would just like to point out that I knew I could convince you.”

His brow furrowed in confusion, not sure what you meant. “Convince me of what?”

“That cereal is the best movie snack.”

“I don’t know if I’d say it’s the best…”

“Walt, I’m sitting here with your previous favorite movie snack in my hands, and you totally skipped over it and went for cereal. I’m just saying, I told you so. It’s okay, I’ve known I was right all along, you don’t have to admit it.”

“Hmm.” He growled, mouth full again as he ignored your statement.

“Give me a bite!” You pressed closer to him, reaching for his spoon as he angled his body and cereal away from you.

“Oh no, nice try. You tease, you don’t get any.”

“Fine, grumpy, I’ll go make my own. Keep watching, I’ll be back.”

Shuffling to the kitchen, you proceeded to grab a bowl and make your own, but you found both cereal boxes empty on the counter. Quickly turning to check your special cereal cabinet for a backup box, you discovered you were completely out.

“WALTER! Are you fucking kidding me? We just bought those!” Standing with your arms crossed in the doorway, you glared at Walt as he stared back at you unfazed.

“I hate to break up your gloating, but you created this monster, love. And don’t forget about our two other little monsters who take after you.” His grin was cocky; he knew he’d bested you. Laser beams could have been shooting from your eyes for all you knew. You shook your head in disbelief at the audacity of your husband.

That bastard. That beautiful bastard.

Walter smiled softly at you and motioned for you to rejoin him on the couch. Much to your dismay, your anger at him diffused immediately. “Love, I’ll go buy more first thing in the morning. Here, come and share mine. I’ll be nice… it is date night, after all.”

* I do not own Walter Marshall, Nomis, Night Hunter, or anything related to it.

[prawns-are-cannibals]

Taskmaster S10

I honestly love this series so much, and I'm glad this was the first series I watched as it went to air. I know it gets some hate which I can actually understand, but I feel its exactly what I needed when it was broadcast. The contestants seemed so giddy to be out of the house, and to be around other people after the lockdown. I loved how incapable all 5 of them were, especially Daisy and her prize tasks. How she didn't go into labour half way through the series just from laughing so hard is beyond me. I'm so glad Richard won too, and I loved how you could hear him giggling away in the studio after every task. They were the biggest group of dorks that have ever appeared, and will probably ever appear on Taskmaster UK. Mawaan and Kathrine both gave off such pure vibes, and Johnny was the exact degree of chaos I was expecting him to be. Let's face it though, Richard and Daisy were probably the best matched team for tasks ever, with the accidental/unofficial team of Kathrine I Alex coming in second. Daisy's attempts at saying 'phenomenon' in the last series was endearing.

Top 3 tasks

I had about nine or ten tasks I could have included on this list, it was so hard to narrow them down.

Eat the most watermelon

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. This one was horrific but will always make me laugh. I do love the contrast between the teams on a socially distanced perspective as using those grabbers must have been so tricky. The amount of coordination you would have to have to both eat and feed someone. Highlight quote for this team is Johnny saying “I want daddy’s watermelon”.

Daisy sounding like some kind of angry, rabid animal when eating it topped any of the food related tasks for me, as I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. As Richard described it “its like the walking dead". He eats so little if it compared to Daisy, it’s hilarious. I'm so glad that they paired those two up.

Quietly make a cocktail

Yet another one which consists of Alex consuming weird stuff. I’m so glad that this task was included in this series, as Daisy has to be one of the loudest, angriest contestants in TM history, and this wound her up so much. The name she came up with for hers had to be the best ‘the fucks sake'. I honestly think that Kathrine would have done so well if she hadn’t insisted on using ice for it. That’s where most of the noise came from, but she stuck with it. Johnny drinking straight from the champagne bottle was such a mood, as was him testing how loud a sparkler was just out of curiosity. This task did confirm one thing for me though, Richard is seemingly incapable of shouting properly, and I love it. I don’t know whether Mawaan was deliberately sabotaging himself with the idea of the bin juice in mind, or he genuinely didn’t realise how loud he was being. The question “do you think wine and milk go together?” will forever haunt my dreams.

Knock over the coconut/move the drinks

I was not surprised ir disappointed by Johnny being the one who knocked the coconut over the slowest. He gave so much in this task, but “me and Teddy are going on a bender" will live on in my mind forever. It gave me so much joy watching Richard carrying a Teddy that was roughly the same size as him or bigger. How he failed to notice the tray, I have no idea. I momentarily felt bad for Daisy when her tray went over taking a full pint with her, but she’s far too angry during tasks for anything she does not to be funny. I like to think that I would have done the same as Mawaan and somehow attached the bear to me.

Obvious shoutout to the best live task ever; the drawing task in E6 that gave us Hippo!Gate. Poor Richard having to feel the pure rage of Daisy but Jesus christ my body hurt from laughing even rewatching it. It was made even better by Daisy not guessing the very obvious kangaroo Rich drew. And to the last live task of the series where Daisy had a bit of a breakdown, and narrowly missed out winning the series.

Contestants

Richard

Daisy

Mawaan

Johnny

Kathrine

(It was so hard to rank this bunch, I love them all dearly, any of them would have been my favourite on any other series)

Series 9

Series 11

[tweetracer]

How do you think the Lost Boys sleep with their S/O? Not like- in a sexy way. Like how do they cuddle and stuff?

LOST BOYS x S/O SLEEPING HEAD CANNONS 

This one is a lil short! I’m working on my B&T Regency fic so I’m kinda doing these on the back burner!

DAVID

Frankly, David thinks sleeping horizontally is silly.

He’s a vampire he’s used to hanging from the rafters like the terrifying creature of the night that he is.

Yet when you scooted over and patted the mattress for him to join you he still found himself crawling in and letting you snuggle up to him like he’s the world’s grouchiest teddy bear.

His favorite thing is when you curl against his side, facing out towards his arm so you can wrap it around you and just feel your breathe and heartbeat against his skin.

It’s so warm and comforting and it also provides him the ideal position to turn on his side and get some top tier spooning in.

One of the benefits to dating a vamp is that he doesn’t have to worry about his arms falling asleep so no matter how long you rest on him he’s perfectly comfortable.

David is the most peaceful sleeper of all of the Boys. He barely moves or mumbles, just likes to hold still and drift off with his hand pressed to your abdomen and short nails drawing soothing circular patterns into your skin lightly.

The only thing

David is not a morning person.... or.... night person?

When it’s time to wake up he’s usually grouchy and groggy till he’s managed to come to enough and actually start bossing the other Boys around.

The only time he’s okay with being woken is when it’s you providing him with some.... assistance to his... morning needs. (Listen he’s a forever teenager what do you expect?)

PAUL

Paul will sleep in one position and one position only. Face literally flat against your chest with your arms wrapped as tightly around his neck as you can.

Listen, whether or not you have tits he needs to be buried face first into them.

As a vampire he doesn’t technically need to breathe so he’ll stay there the whole time if you let him. Something about just laying there, completely surrounded in your scent and being able to hear your heartbeat against his ear and the warmth of your skin.

Being there almost makes him feel like he’s living again.

The first time he tucked himself against you like that you’d thought it was sexual and it kinda was at first  but he just did it with such.... innocence?

It was a genuine desire to just be close.

He always insists you fling your arms around him, squeezing and holding him tightly like he was a security blanket. Or maybe you were his  he always felt safe with you wrapped around him.

And he hopes you feel the same

He’s a notorious wiggler in his sleep. Paul will squirm and shift and definitely steals the blankets despite being physically unable to get cold.

Is a way heavy sleeper. Like he moves around like crazy in his sleep but like this guy could sleep through a hurricane if you’d let him.

DWAYNE

When I say Dwayne wants you to sleep on top of him.

I literally mean

On top of him.

This man will wrangle you up till your head is on his chest and he can wrap his arms around your waist and keep you on top of him like a snuggly, warm weighted blanket.

When you asked him about it he explained that it just felt nice to have the weight, that the pressure was warm and grounding and just.... human.

If you do get uncomfortable he’ll shift the two of you around till you’re squeezed tightly to his side, a consistent solid presence that makes you feel safe and guarded.

He likes having you near when he sleeps and if that means having to settle down on a mattress for the night then so be it. Never budges or moves while he sleeps.

Like this dude is a statue.

Is actually a pretty light sleeper!

Dwayne’s prone to waking up in the middle of sleeping at the slightest noise or disturbance you think it’s a protective thing but he’s always sure to hold still so you don’t wake.

This guy is so insistent on being able to keep an eye on you that he’d probably jerryrig some sort of hammock in the back of the cave so he can get to you in an emergency.

MARKO

Marko is all about spooning.

When he big spoons he pulls you as close as you could possibly get against his chest and nestle his face in the crook of your neck.

He prefers to hold you, it makes him feel like your protector; like he’s here and nothing bad can happen to either of you when he’s got his arms around your waist.

Those times where he’s the one being spooned he’s like a barnacle.

Just cause he can’t hold you doesn’t mean he’s not gonna try and shelter you as much as possible. He’ll tangle your legs together (”Marko your feet are cold!”) and tug your arms till he can intertwine your fingers and press soft kisses to your knuckles.

While he doesn’t really move much in his sleep, he is prone to occasionally sleep talking.

Most of it is nonsense- an occasional question or humming sound but every once and a while he’ll formulate a sentence so clearly that if you didn’t know any better you’d assume he was awake and actually talking to you.

While being big and little spoon are great his favorite place to be is facing you.

He loves being able to just watch you. It’s not a creepy thing he promises! You just look so calm and serene and it makes his chest feel warm and soft.

Of course this is all fine and dandy till he’s overcome with emotion and just has to pepper your face in kisses and wake you up.

[sugar-petals]

Cuddling With SuperM

↳ ❤︎ CARO’S NOTE: their concept is all about badassery i know but we’re dealing with seven angels so let’s talk about that shall we

warnings ⚠️ some light teasing, innuendo

length: 1.5k

taeyong

am i really telling you something ground-breaking with this:

so this guy’s truly adorable

turns into a baby what else is new

draws his knees to his chest and just enjoys the ride with his eyes closed

you can do whatever the hell you want

back rubs, head pats, foot massages, caressing the neck or underneath the chin which is particularly sweet

and a whole lot of tickling he’s kinda obsessed with this

excellent chef he is, taeyong enjoys preparing snacks for a set cuddling time or movie night

so what if this turns into feeding each other basically are you ready for that

this guy’s impossible face up close is hard to bear for the faint-hearted just mentioning that in passing here

because… he has that one yearning expression and his eye contact is very steady

bit of a duality here huh

but worry not because taeyong’s tiger inside is more of a cat actually, tyongkitty behavior guaranteed right there

he does do friendly head buts and yeah the eye contact is also a cat thing now that i think about it… it all makes sense now

ten, baekhyun, lucas and taemin are pretty cocky types of cuddlers, taeyong leads the more subdued fraction in super m

it’s the kind of cuddling that needs rainy weather and a cup of tea

ten

quality time right here

banter is always included ofc

or at least a lot of talk because with ten, conversation and cuddles go together

likes pets joining, three’s a party, a cat can always make a snuggly contribution

add a ball of wool to play around

like. a-you, a-me, and a cat right in between ya see

music is always playing in the background, always

ten’s body is very sensual… you can tell he’s a dancer by the way he’s adapting, how he’s feeling it, how he moves in general

the reflexes are just so different he has great feeling for what you wanna do next it’s his bodily intuition and he just goes along with it

what you gotta tell him though is to keep it lowkey with keeping his jazzy outfits on

a hoodie cuddles better than high fashion and spiked jackets

plus he looks adorably small in it so two birds with one stone

never forget ten is really tiny that sure makes a difference

reluctant little spoon, he keeps it face-to-face or sleeps on his back

ten is glad to be approached with hugs he’s not always doing the initiative

shy thailand angel ikr

but don’t complain if he farts because he absolutely will

goddammit chittaphon

kai

if it’s without a plushie something’s going wrong it always needs one

his favorite teddy’s gotta participate y’know he’s a social creature

in this home we don’t discriminate against plush bears

and yeah, his bear ear hoodie likewise he is sure to put it on

jongin tends to be rather taciturn because he wants to enjoy the body-to-body sensations

meaning, don’t interpret his frequent silence as awkwardness he’s just observing

is not above teasing… if his outfit is showing some skin he’ll invite you to touch the area

also enjoys you putting your hands under his sweater

he’s laughing like crazy and kicking his legs all giggly if you put your head underneath it and let it roam oh la la

yeah nini likes some wit to it for sure, and some steaminess in the mix it’s just a natural byproduct if we’re honest

dim the lights down low for this one…

but also light the candles alright

cuddling is more of a soft and steady thing there’s not much position changes going on

this is the couch not the dancefloor your honor

while we’re talking about that: jongin is a buff biatch my god

prep a water bottle to chug when you’re cuddling this guy is effortlessly hot

also know that kai will almost definitely snap a picture of you huddled together for the memory of it

baekhyun

unlike his memes, baekhyun’s cuddling behaviour is entirely predictable

will snuggle against your shoulder by default pretty much that’s his favorite area

stays glued there for two hours if you’re not busy

im not kidding

needless to say he needs a partner who can handle this level of clinginess

baekhyun can’t keep his hands to himself in general

neither can you

it’s groping x cuddling these two are a dead sure combination

keen to snuggle casually while he’s gaming, cross-legged on the ground with you massaging his back

likes to lay his head into your lap, too.

baekhug i mean back hug enthusiast. something inside his face has an inbuilt magnet that sucks him into the space between your collar bones

especially when you’re at the stove cooking

caution: love bites. lots of them. does this count as cuddles? probably. it’s not like he’s eating you or is he. oop—

what am i saying all he does is nibble alright

and oh yeah bring on the sweater weather. he can’t stay still in bed it’s gonna be a pillowfort building session though

you gotta exhaust him until he naps off lmao!

energizer bunny bf

mark

enjoys being fed watermelon during the process how else could it be

wait until this guy hears what harry styles’ watermelon sugar is all about his world will never be the same again

anyway

he’ll look so cute in his striped shirt and his round glasses awh

cuddling is his favorite way to show his trust and affection before all else

his favorite time to cuddle is before going to sleep

he usually hugs pillows so you can tell how clingy he winds up as

mark really sleeps and dreams better if you do that it has an astounding effect. cuddles are his perfect recharging if you will it’s just that he’s actually calming down through it whereas he can be nervous throughout the day so he needs that downtime

spooning is a given

what he enjoys the most about it is the warmth

markie easily gets cold sometimes he just needs that tune-up with you he’s like blink blink there goes my dose of daily heat beep beep

what the fuck

anyway again

talk about tune

just like ten he’s very talkative all the way verbal stimulation and mark lee just go together

if you compare him to taeyong there’s not much of a transformation going on mark lee on two legs is the same mark lee during cuddles it’s all copy paste

all in all a delectable experience, extremely cute and heart-melting, super m truly has a super mark

taemin

much like xuxi he has that permanent smile on his lips that tries to make you laugh

in fact taemin is hard to stop with his puns and his humor

ffs he is a true brat

taems can’t help but try to escalate this into a playfight every time

not that he doesn’t enjoy the calmer types of cuddling but he needs some action in the sack

enjoys praise along the way who are we kidding

the clothes you both cuddle in are very important alright, the fabric in particular

taemin keeps it expensive here it’s just the way he rolls

satin my dear

it’s just so satisfying to the touch

but also beware of his most lethal clothing choice which brings out his innate maknae charm the most

THE FLUFFY TURTLENECK

gyeahh

which he will use during special occasions to turn you into a cuddle monster ready to pounce him

give it up for shinee my loves they taught him well and sent him out to fluff up the world

what else is there okay we also gotta mention that cuddling consists of many little kisses here and there

taemin wants to get absolutely peppered

he is and stays a prince

lucas

ideal body type for cuddling except that it needs the right place, not the environment but the spot i mean, you can imagine

lucas can explode any smol-size couch or bed

don’t even think about trying to cuddle on regular chairs my god why would you live so dangerously

king size por favor

there is a lot to cuddle against it’s really a whole wonderland

those big ole thighs are practical cushions for anything really.

and his face is just so amicable it has to be kithed

his hands… his hands! you will feel maximum protection with those giant baby fingers around your hips i’m telling you

admittedly yukhei is hard to properly hug around the shoulders obviously that’s a drawback but hey his waist is lithe and tiny so hello there, very inviting

oh, that infectious smile.

serious cuddling: 0 — funny cuddles: over 9,000

and tasty cuddles because foodcas brings some fried rice every time oh yum

hates to go to work he really prioritizes you and cuddles go on for long long hours especially when you watch your favorite series

xuxi goes the extra mile, he will touch your hair a lot, just gently combing through it

and he doesn’t mind it when you do the same, he’s got the most angelic blonde locks after all

lu calls you beautiful all the time the cheesy mf is really pulling the standard compliment alright

cue jonas brothers sucker for you

ugh, boyfriend

mlist

[poptod]

hello! can i request something romantic with either ahk or snafu or really any rami character where y/n has round dark brown doe eyes? like so dark brown they look black if you’re not looking at them in sunlight? and he’s just flirting with them and he says something nice about their eyes? i have round dark brown eyes and i’m kinda insecure about them cuz they’re so common, and it’s been one shit-show if a week for me and i really just need to feel good about myself

notes: damn, i can totally do that for you. hope your weekend is much better than your week :) thank u for requesting and i hope you enjoy it !

WC: 2k

+

Life never worked naturally to your advantage. You were born average looking – nothing special on either side of the spectrum, with average hands and common dark brown eyes. You grew up poor and worked your ass off to get into a good college on a scholarship, eventually getting kicked out for something you didn't even do. You auditioned to be part of an orchestra, but there were too many violinists already, and you just 'didn't fit the profile'. You tried to be an artist, but no one liked your creations. You tried to pick up another instrument, but you couldn't afford a good one, and the last time you tried to buy a cheap guitar, the neck broke on the third use.

Because of these many happenstances (and the many more, less mentionable ones), you considered yourself unlucky. It was a fact of life for you as much as the sun's existence in other peoples lives, or that the superbowl was too long. Or guacamole wasn't good. Fortunately, the years of nothing ever coming naturally had made you into a fantastic worker, and by some rare stroke of luck, you found you were rather good at physical labor jobs. You weren't strong by any standards – in fact rather weak – but your attention to detail made you the janitor of a prestigious museum you visited twice as a child.

It wasn't a fantastic job, and the poor pay led to having five roommates, but you enjoyed yourself. You tried to do that in every aspect of life; finding the joy in menial tasks, or solace in duty. After all, you got to see wonderful recreations of history in the still wax figures, and learn heaps of knowledge from the many information panels you came across when making your way through the museum. The only truly unfortunate part of your job was the time – right after closing, but you had to finish quickly, as you weren't allowed inside at night. A stupid rule, but the night guard and Dr. McPhee were insistent on it.

They thought you didn't know about the exhibits.

They were, obviously, wrong. You knew, and you adored the magic behind it all. While you hadn't actually ever seen any of the exhibits come to life, you watched the news on an evening where the exhibits broke out, and with your knowledge of the Tablet curse, you pieced the mystery together.

You hadn't meant to take this long. McPhee was already pissed at you for 'accidentally' skipping over the men's restroom yesterday, and taking too long at your job would land you on thin ice, something you couldn't afford. With a hurried pace you finished sweeping the floors in the last room, storing the broom away and moving on to mopping. Checking your watch once more, you noted the time, mentally checking if you would be able to finish before closing hours.

Mopping the Egyptian room usually takes five to ten minutes, and closing is in two, you thought, despair settling in your stomach. What would you do if you 'found out' about the tablet? What would McPhee do if he found out you knew? He wouldn't fire you, would he?

You truly didn't know. He was a bit of a loose cannon when it came to those things.

As fast as you tried to move, the hours of night came faster than you could mop, and the tablet began to glow behind you. Bewildered you turned, watching with your mouth slightly parted as the glow grew to the radiance of the sun. You knew the tablet brought the magic, but you didn't know about the glow – now that you were witnessing it yourself, the only thing you could feel in your pounding heart was fear. A fear that only grew worse when the Pharaoh's sarcophagus began to rattle.

You'd thought about the wax figures coming to life. You thought about the dinosaur. You, however, did not think about the 4,000 year old mummy.

Needless to say, you bolted. Leaving behind your supplies, you ran as fast as you could, wind pounding past your ears as the sound of a lion's roar came from the neighboring hall. You grit your teeth and made for the main entrance, but by the time you got there many of the exhibits had adjoined in the main room. Pressing yourself against the locked door, you watched with wide eyes as the Teddy Roosevelt statue began to talk to Attila, and in that moment you realized that perhaps magic was not always good. Not when you were spiralling into a panic at least.

It took a couple hours of you staring into space before anyone actually noticed you. To your surprise, it wasn't the night guard, or even McPhee – it was a Pharaoh, skin and everything intact. His crown remained polished upon his head, a stark difference from the crowns on exhibit, whose colors and carvings had faded long ago.

"Hello," he said with a pleasant, polite smile as he knelt, matching the height of your seated position on the floor. "Are you a new exhibit?"

You looked down at your clothes. Janitor clothes.

"No," you said, and instantly his demeanor changed.

"Oh dear," he said, and though you agreed with that statement, you certainly did not agree with him grabbing your wrist and dragging you into the crowd.

"I don't really want to be doing this," you said in a shaky voice, but he did not answer.

As he dragged you through the crowd you kept your eyes closed, wary of overstimulation of both ears and eyes. He eventually stopped at the top of the stairs, where you opened your eyes to find the night guard, Larry.

"What are you still doing here?" Larry asked almost frantically, looking between the dancers below and you.

"In my defense I didn't want to be here, I knew about the magic and I don't – I didn't ever want to actually see it," you half-lied.

"How the hell did you know?!"

"You don't do a very good job of covering it up, Larry," you said flatly, your voice still cracking from nerves.

You didn't have very many friends. Your roommates didn't talk to you much, and the life you had outside of work consisted mostly of quiet, indoor hobbies you could do just about anywhere. So, once the whole of the situation was sorted out (with input from McPhee), you took your drawing pads and notebooks to the museum with you, working for the first few hours and drawing into the hours of night while watching history come to life.

Despite your original discomfort of being in the presence of a 100% authentic, come-to-life mummy, you became rather good friends with him. Not fantastic, and he didn't know very much about you, but he was kind and handsome. You hated to admit it, but he held your avid interest. Another one of those unlucky things in your life – of course you had to fall in love with an immortal, reanimated mummy who only came to life at night.

"Why don't you ever come dance with us?" Ahkmenrah (his name, apparently) said as he sat down beside you on the loft, the only barrier between you and a fifteen-foot fall being a stone rail.

"I'm afraid I'm not all that good of a dancer," you said, not bothering to look up from your sketchbook. You couldn't ever bear to look at him that long anyway.

"Neither am I," he laughed. "That's the point."

Instinctively you looked up at him, holding eye contact with his grey eyes for only a second before you looked away, a blush already making its way to your cheeks. He had the opposite of your life – lucky beyond belief. The favorite of his parents, completely immortal, completely beautiful, almost too wealthy, and many, many friends, including yourself.

What got you the most however was his eyes. Cold eyes were already praised in modern society – people loved grey, they loved blue and green. But in Ahkmenrah's society, the one that existed thousands of years ago, blue eyes hardly existed. The mutation for the new color was one in a billion back then, making him one of the (probably) three people on the planet with blue eyes. And now that lucky mutation stood before you in its purest, oldest form, and you couldn't bear to look at them for any longer than a solitary moment.

For some reason, it hurt you. Maybe because you were boring. Dull. Brown in a brown society. Sure, they looked beautiful in sunlight – you knew that. They turned into swirling gold and the taste of chocolate, but Ahk couldn't see them in the sunlight. That made you dull.

Now, Ahkmenrah was not a man to point things out about people. If they were being a dickhead, yes, but most of the time he noted things and dismissed them. But you'd been doing this for so long that he grew weary of the dance.

"Why don't you ever look at me?" He asked, a question that had your eyes widening and your back straightening, alarm bells ringing all over your brain.

"I look at you plenty," you said while avoiding his gaze like a 15th century doctor avoids respecting women.

"No, you don't," he said softly. "Not even now. I wish you would – you've got such beautiful eyes."

Your sketching stopped at his words. At your silence he placed his hand on your jaw, tilting so you looked at him. Instead of meeting his gaze you looked to the floor.

"They're very common," you got out weakly, still unable to make eye contact, but he kept you where you were, in the easy sight of him. "They only look good in the sun."

He shifted closer, keeping his hand on your jaw in hopes of you changing your mind and meeting his eye.

"Even in darkness they're beautiful, voids as empty and long as night," he hummed, drawing closer yet till you could feel the heat off his body on your still fingers. "I've noted them quite a lot. Eyes are a beautiful thing, aren't they?"

"Yours are," you mumbled, barely catching the meaning and insinuation of your words before they came out.

"As are yours. Remember when we snuck into McPhee's office? The lamplight bounced off of them and they practically glittered like the embers and smoke of a fire," he said with a small smile. "And the bright lights in the hallways –"

Florescent, you thought.

"– and the candle lights that Nick brought, those flicker with that same spark within you. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

You couldn't move, stuck in place and stuck in your own head.

"The golden fireplace, Christmas lights – and the light of the moon, a dim, faraway light that can only be admired from a distance... like you," he murmured.

Sometimes you forgot his people were poets and admirers of nature.

"You have blue eyes," you whispered through the knot in your throat. He listened carefully. "And... I can see reflections in them. They're soft, like velvet. Despite everything, they.. you seem... happy. You always seem happy, and your eyes give it away."

"Have you ever kissed anyone?" He asked quietly, and in that moment you realized his nose was almost touching yours.

"No," you answered honestly. Another unlucky aspect of you.

"Neither have I," he said before he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a tender embrace you weren't at all expecting.

From both the view of the first kiss and of a Pharaoh's kiss, you weren't prepared, but the plush of his pink lips against yours sent sparks of delight into your heart. He moved slow, taking his time to map out your aspects just as you began to trail your hands over his open palm, memorizing the creases. You were reluctant to part, but he ran his hand through your hair and your brain short-circuited into placitude.

"You have the softest lips," he murmured, hand coming to cup your cheek once more.

You never applied aquaphor or did anything to make your lips soft.

Maybe it was luck.

Didn't really matter to you, because he kissed you again, and your eyes fluttered shut as everything in the world but him faded away.

[wallwriterstuff]

Anything You Can Do ||Demetri Volturi x Child!Oc||

Part 1: From The Doorstep 

Words: 3125

Warnings: None, just the usual parenting troubles

Summary: Part 2 to From The Doorstep (you can read this on it’s own I suppose but for the full backstory of how Demetri became a Daddy click the link to read From The Doorstep first!)

Demetri has faced many challenges since becoming a father, fighting hard for his little one every step of the way, so separating himself from her for a few hours a day is a lot more difficulty than he’d expected it to be. In short, this is what happens when mother hen Demetri sends Astraea Volturi to nursery! 

Demetri had never had a formal education like the kind the modern world provided youths nowadays. His education had consisted of lectures and practicing the practical elements of life; in so far as he remembered that often meant his father showing him how to knock an arrow or turn soil, then clipping his ear when he didn’t get it quite right. Still, it had served him well, and until the day Amun took him what little he remembered of his human life was successful. He had been healthy and his homestead was sustainable, he had done well for himself. Convincing him that sending Astraea to school was a good thing to do was therefore very difficult when he would have rather kept her home at his side, tutored by the Masters’ and other members of the guard.

He himself had degrees in geography, history and philosophy. Alec had degrees in all of the sciences. There was nothing in this world that she needed to know that they could not teach, but after reading through a few parenting books and websites (not that he was ever going to admit he’d scoured Mumsnet and various other mommyblogs – the torment would be never ending) he very quickly realised there was one thing he had failed to do as her father, one crucial element of growing up he had not provided for her in the five years she had been a part of his life.

He had not socialised her with other children.

At home, mixing with her found family, Astraea had no problems at all. She chattered happily with everyone that loved her and played nicely with the twins, but when they went out it was a different story. Demetri had noticed it more than once, her tendency to stay to herself when they went to the park or to cling to him until he pushed her to go a little further away to explore not something she shared with other children her age. After lengthy discussions about how much she had noticed about the coven and how much she might accidentally say to any school friends she might make, permission had been granted and Demetri had enrolled her in a local nursery. He hoped that meeting other humans from all walks of life might do her some good, but the first few weeks dropping her off in the mornings were hell.

Astraea’s first day had consisted of Demetri’s ears ringing as she sobbed and screamed at the top of her lungs, anxious about him leaving her in this strange new place with brand new people. He had held her close for most of that time, taking her around the room and trying to tempt her with some of the toys and activities on offer. No child had wanted to interact with the screamer clinging fast to her father’s hand and he had been forced to sit and listen to ridiculous, childish stories on a dusty floor surrounded by little humans all much more independent than his own Astraea was.

Day 2 was very much the same, the entire week passing by with little change until she surprised him by venturing a little further from him on the last day. They only spent a few hours at a time there but she knew the room well enough to know what she liked doing, and she’d sat at the drawing table on her own for a little while, checking all the while to make sure he hadn’t left her alone before she came back with a drawing for him. He felt awful that first week, like he had failed his daughter terribly, and it didn’t feel like it got much better for a very long time. She would traverse the room, but she wouldn’t talk to the staff running the nursery or the other children, selectively mute and never letting anyone but him hear her sweet voice.

It took a lot of slow progress, but after almost a full month, he was able to finally leave her for her first full day without him. Demetri had never felt anxiety like it. It clawed at the back of his mind, every minute dragged out into a small eternity as he waited for the moment he could pick her up, wondering if the other children were kind to her, if she was having fun, if she had injured herself with those oversized building blocks he had tried to steer her away from. It was a great relief to see her come streaking toward him when he came to pick her up, the venom stinging his eyes even though he could not cry as he cradled her close and pressed a lingering kiss to her hair.

“How was your day sweet girl?” he’d asked. Her answering smile was blinding bright, banishing his dark thoughts far far from his head – at least until tomorrow when he left her again.

“I think I have a friend now, but I missed you Daddy.” She’d replied. That was the first day that she had mentioned this friend, and it had been a welcome relief since it was what he had sent her to nursery for. Then one friend became two, and two became three, three became four, and suddenly there was a whole group that welcomed her every morning and said goodbye to her every afternoon. This is a good thing he told himself over and over, She is interacting with children her age, this is a good thing. So…why did it not feel like it?

Every night as the clock crept closer and closer to the dreaded time he would have to wake her and get her ready, a hollow would open in the pit of his stomach and it would grow and grow until it nearly consumed him whole. Demetri was forced to fake every smile he gave her as he helped her dress and tie shoelaces, and the hollowness was nothing compared to the bitterness that replaced it when he dropped her off each day. It was not jealousy, he was Demetri Volturi and he was not jealous of little humans, he was not! But she did seem to enjoy their company far more. She all but ran into the nursery room these days, desperately wiggling out of her coat to join her friends. Sometimes he had to chase her down just to get his goodbye cuddles. It took him a while to understand exactly what this horrible feeling was, and then it hit him.

She didn’t need him anymore.

The Astraea that clung to his legs when new people approached her was gone. She was more confident and smiled brighter. Even going to the park wasn’t the same as she actually got involved in other children’s games, and though Demetri wanted to be happy he had helped his daughter overcome the shyness he had accidentally instilled in her, he was quietly mortified by the whole process. He hadn’t realised preparing her for the world meant preparing her to leave him behind, and Demetri…wasn’t ready. Astraea didn’t even seem to notice his pain, his bubbly little girl far too excited about all of her new friends and school to register it.  

School was another thing Demetri was dreading. How much less would she need him once she started to formally learn to read, to write? How many more new friends would take her away from his side? Goodness knows what would happen if she wanted to sleep at a friends house. He might just sit outside the place on an opposite rooftop to keep an eye on her if that happened, he wasn’t sure he could cope. He wondered though if maybe school might also be better in some way, more structure and less play. It might knock out some of the odd habits she’d picked up from nursery at least.

He’d noticed it first a fortnight ago, after she’d asked to take something of his into nursery for something called show and tell and he’d given her an antique compass alongside a well-rehearsed story about how he travelled for work. When he’d picked her up that afternoon she’d reverently held his compass in her hands and had a grand old time “reading” it, giving him directions about which way to turn as she rode on his shoulders in their mission to find her after nursery snack. He had played it off as some lingering excitement and a fun game to play. They’d been looking at pirates in the nursery after all and pirates did love to find buried treasure.

A few days after that, he’d found his shoes had gone missing, and the scent in his room led him right to Astraea’s door. His first instinct had been to immediately stop her clomping about in his polished, far too big shoes, but then he’d paused and amusedly watched as she slammed her feet down to awkwardly waddle down her line of teddy bears, pointing to each one in turn and giving them orders. It was something she had seen him do with the lower guard, he and Felix in charge of their combat training and often talking to them about footwork and rules of engagement. Hearing them come tumbling from her mouth had almost made him laugh until she had repeated a few choice words from Uncle Felix’s repertoire he’d had to have a stern talk with both of them about.

It was little things like that that had added up over the span of two weeks that had confused and amused him to no end. Poor imitations of his growling, standing with one little arm tucked behind her back. She’d even copied the way he greeted Felix and other members of the guard in the halls, nodding at them with a quick enunciation of their name. The strange habit of mimicking his actions had extended to Uncle Felix to, and Uncle Alec and Aunt Jane, though he had to admit it was hilarious to watch her glare the young boy who had accidentally crushed her artwork with his foot as he stood from the carpet into submission, Jane’s signature smile on her lips as she did it. She looked almost disappointed that she hadn’t been able to make him writhe in agony as she did so and Demetri had had a quiet word with Jane about ensuring she didn’t use her gift in front of Astraea anymore.

It had all culminated in one silly little argument one morning as they got ready for another day at nursery, one of the last coming up before the Christmas holidays. Demetri was feeling the same hollowness he always felt, not in the mood for her to push his patience as she was, and it was all over a stupid necklace. He was crouched before her, hand outstretched as he waited with all the patience he possessed for him to place her coven crest back into his open palm. She held it clutched tight in her tiny little fists, small knuckles turning white with the effort as she shook her head vigorously, holding it close to her chest.

“No! I want to wear it!” she repeated. This was the fourth time she’d told him as much despite his protests.  

“Astraea Volturi I have been patient enough with you, you are not allowed to take it and that is final, now hand it back to me. Now.” Demetri ordered, curling his fingers for added emphasis.

“No!” she cried, lower lip protruding in a pout and trembling slightly. Demetri blinked, surprised by her reaction. He hadn’t expected his daughter to get this upset over it, but she looked genuinely distraught at the thought he might take it from her. He sighed, letting his hand drop and resting his forearms on his thighs, hands clasping as he studied her tight grip on the necklace. She hadn’t really worn it before, since it was rather large and she was still only small, so it would hang down her torso for sure and probably snag on things. He didn’t want her choking if the chain got caught on anything, or for her to lose it. It was a great honour to be part of their coven and she would cherish it in the years to come, but not at the tender age of five.

“Sweet girl, I worry you will lose it, or perhaps hurt yourself if it becomes caught on anything as you play. It would be safer to leave it at home.” He tried. Astraea shook her head again, turning her body away from him. He knew full well he could take it from her without any resistance but he had sworn to never use force on his daughter long ago.

“I’ll be careful!” she promised. Her small shoulders were all hunched up, so tense as she gripped onto her necklace tight. Demetri rolled his eyes skyward and took in a deep breath, mentally counting to ten before he exhaled slowly and checked his watch. They were going to be very late if this carried on.

“I am sure you would be, but that still does not mean it is safe to take it to nursery.” He reasoned.

“But I need it!” she whined. Demetri’s brows furrowed, mind racing as fear gripped him tight. She needed it? What had she said to the other children that required her to take in her coven necklace? Had she mentioned the crest? The Volturi?

“Why?” Demetri asked, keeping his voice as level as he could so as to not alert her to his underlying panic. There was a long moment of pure silence, neither of them saying anything as his anxiety grew till he was forced to press for an answer. When Astraea turned to face him, her puppy dog eyes made him falter.

“To be like you. You always wear yours.” She pointed to the golden ‘V’ visible against his chest, and Demetri subconsciously reached his fingers up to run them over the cold metal. His expression softened slightly and he lowered himself to the ground, gesturing for his daughter to come and sit with him. She hesitated for a moment before he motioned to her once more, her little legs carrying her right to his lap where she made herself comfortable. Demetri wrapped his arms around her, looking down at her inquisitively.

“Now why on earth would you want to be like me?” he asked. Astraea was everything to him. She was his happy, bright, gorgeous, warm, curious, sweet little girl, and he wouldn’t have changed her for anything in the world. To hear she wanted to be like him…well the most selfish parts of him relished in the news. She kept her crest in her lap now, looking up at him with a small frown.

“Miss Bellomo asked what we wanted to be when we were bigger, and I want to be a hero like you that protects people.” She said. Demetri felt his cold, dead heart shatter into a million pieces. For obvious reasons Astraea didn’t know the full scope of what he did, to her he was a security guard that protected the castle, and sometimes he had to go away to find people who had tried to get into the castle and give them a telling off. He was sure she’d be horrified if she knew the truth, that he was an executioner more so than a hero, but to see himself through her eyes was extraordinary and eye opening. Suddenly, all of the little things he’d caught her doing made sense.

Every gesture of his she had mimicked, she had done in an effort to be like him. Astraea had never left him behind at all; he was always in her mind, the protector and hero that was always with her. Demetri held her close, burying his nose in her hair to inhale her sweet scent. He didn’t care that it made his throat burn horribly. He simply needed to be close to his daughter and have a little time to compose himself. When he pulled back, he clasped her head to his lips and pressed a firm kiss against her hairline.

“Oh my sweet, sweet girl, no. Please do not try to be like me.” He whispered, voice raw with unshed emotion. Her little face fell into a frown again.

“Why can’t I be like you?” she asked. Demetri stroked her cheek with his thumb.

“You cannot be like me because I need you to keep being like you,” he replied, “Astraea, my sweet girl, there are so many people in this world who would seek to change you, the way you look or the way you act, but never let them. You are kind and strong, and smart and funny…to be anything other than yourself is taking away so much good from this world. Do you understand?” He knew she most likely didn’t, not fully, but after a minute to process it, she nodded, curls bouncing around her face.

“So…I have to be me?” she asked. Demetri nodded.

“Yes. You must always be you. I love you very much as you are. You are my hero, my sweet girl.” He kissed her forehead, the adoration he felt for his little girl ten times stronger than it had ever been before. She beamed up at him, throwing her small arms around his neck to hug him close to her. Demetri returned the hug whole heartedly, vaguely noting that hollowness that had plagued him was entirely gone now. She was certainly a hero, she’d saved him from himself.

“Will you keep it safe for me?” she held out her coven crest to him and Demetri stared down at it for a long moment before gently curling her fingers back around the metal.

“How about we compromise? If you promise to keep it in your nursery bag and not take it out for any reason, you can take it with you.” He suggested. Her eyes sparkled and she nodded vigorously.

“I promise I promise!” she cheered. Demetri chuckled.

“Okay then. Let’s put it in your bag now and go, we are already late.” He watched her bounce up from his lap, bounding over her to small backpack with all the eagerness of an overly excited puppy. Demetri had never expected that when he enrolled his daughter in nursery, he would be the one to learn something new. Sometimes parenting required you to step back, not too far, but just enough so you could watch your children thrive from a distance you could easily cross when you were needed, and Astraea still very much needed him, even if it didn’t feel like it all the time.

[nemesism-bibliophile]

Shadow Work Prompt - Day 14

What are you afraid to be transparent about? Does the shame come from others or yourself? List all your secrets and why you have chosen to hide this from others.

I hate acting like my dad. My ‘higher self’ starts to become conscious when I’m doing it, but then I feel myself resisting and starting to justify my actions. Scowl on my face, temper flaring, then the apologising and trying to make up for it immediately after. Even getting stroppy when Teddy and I haven’t been having sex. I immediately get resentful. I don’t want to imagine it but I expect dad is the same.

I feel bad. I thought I’d be more excited and happy about the prospect of going on holiday, but right now I’m frustrated and dissociative. How ungrateful is that? Teddy has been organising the whole trip. I haven’t been in the mood. I know I have been overly relying on Teddy for everything, and I must do better to retain independence.

A small voice whispers, a really hesitant hated voice, that I am only with him because he makes my life more convenient. That I am simply terrified of being alone. That I can’t make it on my own. That I need him. Then a larger voice tries to drown it out, to remind me why I fell in love with him. To remind me what a great person he is and how sweet and caring and witty. To tell me that every relationship goes through rocky periods and every relationship takes compromise. 

Doubts about the relationship probably indicate that I don’t want to be in the relationship anymore. I suppose these doubts are a secret. It’s a secret that I still stalk my exes new relationships. It’s pathetic. I shame myself, but others would too. Why would I still care? I feel ashamed for caring enough and am terrified they know it’s me (they probably do). I am tired of seeming weak and insecure. It also delegitimises my own relationship and makes it seem like I am unsatisfied with Ted, but that has nothing to do with it. Pure force of habit is what makes me check those girls pages. It’s not even curiosity anymore, because looking at their pages brings me nothing short of boredom. I thought this year I’d managed to break away from that, but since my phone addiction has gotten bad again I’ve noticed an increase in me doing it.

Since seeing my exes friends the other day I have been so anxious. I hadn’t thought about how desperate and weird it would seem for me to hang out with them. Now I am just paranoid about seeming like a nuisance. Again, insecurity that has come from wanting to be liked and caring what people think.

Seeing them and getting paranoid about how they all feel about me made me realise that there will never be a reality where I see my ex casually (out and about) and I am able to show him I am thriving and serene. It just won’t be. What it will be, is painfully awkward for everyone involved. I think I have had to come to terms with this reality. Was I secretly hoping I’d bump into him for years? Why do I even care? I know nothing good would come out of it. Maybe I still feel guilty about the way we ended and how much was left unsaid. I thought I’d made my peace with the fact I never told him I cheated on him, or that I knew he cheated on me. The last time we spoke, he sent me a snap of the mug I got his grandma. She was still using it years after we ended. Was that his attempt at reconciliation? Since then, we haven’t spoken, but I have often wondered what he was up to. 

I’m ashamed about the amount I smoke weed and my problems with addiction. It’s perhaps so obvious to everyone else but I pretend like it’s not a problem. I feel the need to carry it around with me, even if I don’t intend on smoking it, just to make myself calmer. I will work on leaving it behind and only smoking it in really special moments rather than for the sake of it.

I feel guilty about the fact I developed feelings for gym Niko. In Ted’s eyes, that’s cheating, and I promised him I never. Yes, I stopped him from kissing me and tried to draw boundaries when I realised what was happening, but was that my choice or because he seemed to pre-emptively withdraw? Teddy is too smart for me to be vocalising these thoughts. They must stay a secret in my mind, not even my mind conscious of it, so he never finds out.

I can’t write in my book anymore. Not since he peeped over my shoulder and we had that argument about gym Niko. I feel like I can’t write anything truthful. I mean a lot of the things that I want to write about is about the relationship. The journal doesn’t seem like a safe space for me to share things anymore. I resent Teddy for that. I was gaining momentum with my journaling practice and it’s been a great way for me to vent my feelings since I don’t have close friends anymore. Or rather, conversations with friends have ceased to feel comforting. The journal isn’t like that though. I am so grateful for this practice and I mustn’t allow a few obstacles to halt my progress. I was on the verge of doing something consistently for two weeks! 

Wow. I started this journal entry with a pit of anxiety in my stomach and a low mood, but I feel much better now. However it has made me realise how consistent these issues have been. Over the years, the same problems keep cropping up. I need to make some personal goals to move away from this and truly evolve.

1) Take an internet break this holiday.  2) Make an effort to not be snappy with Ted. Make a note when I feel triggered, take a deep breath and count to 10 before speaking. 3) Find some time to write every day. 

[rosesvioletshardy]

life as we know it - b.h. chapter 2

finally this is done. it’s a little shorter than last chapter but i can’t promise it’s better? anyways i might take a little while on the next chapter because exams are coming up and i need to study so i just hoping y’all don’t give up on this i have started writing chapter 3

masterlist

summary: when their two best friends die, it’s up to people to take care of their goddaughter and face the challenges that come with it

# of words: 2305

warnings: little bit of swearing, both characters being dicks to each other, fluff and cuteness

--

late september 2016

over the months, everything went smoothing. ben went back to filming and y/n went back to running her bakery. when christian and lennon came back, they had the post wedding glow but at the same time lennon had the pregnancy glow like every other pregnant woman would. nothing would stop that woman from teaching and decided that at her 8 month mark she finally decided to stop and go on maternity leave until she was ready to go back.

Because of this, y/n and ben have been on high alert and making sure that their godchild and mother and father were okay. it was revealed that lennon was going to have a girl and everyone was so happy for her and christian. her due date was halloween and no one was shocked seeing it was lennon’s favorite holiday. earlier in the day, christian had sent lennon, his mother, and her mother all for a spa day so that him, ben, and y/n would be able to work on the nursery seeing that it wasn’t done besides the crib. the only problem was that arguments started all over again

“no, why can’t you help christian with the changing table and i actually paint. i’m the only one here who is at least creative and can draw and shit, no offense christian.” y/n told ben already rubbing the sides of her forehead knowing that her headache won’t go away

“none taken, and she’s right jonesy, we can’t draw for shit let alone paint without screwing up.” christian said not even looking up from the changing table instructions already tired of the two adults fighting and acting like children

“are you joking? how would you, of all people, know i can’t draw? maybe i’m good at it and it’s a secret talent i have?” ben told at her

“yeah, and i’m a world class gymnast that can do everything perfectly without screwing up!” 

“can the both of you just literally shut the fuck up and paint different sides of the room the colors we picked out please?” christian practically yelled the two adults before continuing

“look, i know you both want to be the best godparents there ever is and make sure you make lennon and i happy, and that this baby gets everything handed to her perfect. you’ve already done that just by helping us with everything else and by being our best friends and family,  but just for this one time, i need the both of you to do something where it seems like she won’t be the adult and you two are the children. now, she’s going to be back in about 2 hours and i promised her we’ll get at least half the room done and we’ll finish the rest either tomorrow or the day after or whenever. just, do whatever we have planned and that’ll be great. thank you.” christian told them

“fine, maybe i could lay down the tape and you can paint i’m tired of this already. i got somewhere to be soon anyways.” ben said grabbing the tape

“fine, maybe i could lay down the tape and you can paint i’m tired of this already. i got somewhere to be soon anyways.” ben said grabbing the tape

The three continued to work on the room and filming some memories for baby wakes up until christian got a call from his mother telling him that lennon’s water broke in the middle of a facial

“i thought she was supposed to give birth next month?” ben yelled searching frantically over the couples house for the stuff they needed

“she was, the baby just decided to come out early i suppose.” christian told him not being able to find where he put the baby bag for lennon when she gives birth and y/n noticing causing her to react

“chris, why don’t you go to the hospital and we’ll meet up later with some of the stuff you’re going to need afterwards. okay? just take a deep breath, in and out. good, now go be a dad.”

“congratulations you got this we’ll see you as soon as she’s born.” ben told him hugging him

“okay, see you guys soon. I’m going to be a dad!” he yelled as he ran to his car

“i’ll get their stuff ready, you can go wherever you need to go. i’ll call you when lennon gives birth.” she told him as she started to walk to lennon and christian’s room and grabbing one of their bags

“are you sure? i can call and cancel and reschedule? i don’t want you to always be the one doing the work, especially in times like this.” ben said to her

“yeah, i’m fine. your meeting sounded important, like for a new movie or something. just go ben. it’s fine.”

“alright then, um, just text or call me if anything happens. bye.” ben said leaving the room and headed towards his car

y/n next spent the next few hours fixing up some stuff to take for them and fixing them some food to eat that can feed a whole army knowing that they’ll have their hands full for a while 

according to christian, lennon still hasn’t given birth but she’s close, so y/n decided to head down there in case. 

as soon as she left, ben entered the house again, feeling guilty that he left without helping her with everything and deciding to finish building all the furniture. when he was finished, he sat in the middle of the room thinking about how life can suddenly change for two people as another one came into their lives. he snapped out of his thoughts when his phone started to ring, he answered it without looking at the caller ID and he got his with someone yelling in his ear.

“SHE’S HERE! BABY WAKES IS HERE! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!” y/n yelled before she hung up causing ben to quickly get up and run back down to his car and to the hospital. 

When ben arrived at the  hospital after stopping at the store to get a few stuff, also known as a giant teddy bear and a couple of balloons, he saw y/n pacing back and forth waiting for christian to come and get them. she saw that he had gotten the exact same teddy bear as her and she wanted to call him out but it was normal for people to do this kind of stuff and plus their goddaughter was just born so they didn’t want to fight at the moment. 

“i would yell at you right now and be mad and annoyed that you got the exact same thing as me, but since we are in a very public space i won’t.” she told him

“thanks, have they said anything?” ben asked her as he sat down

“no not yet, christian came out to tell me everything was fine though, they just needed to clean her up and do some tests, and then are allowed visitors.” “okay. i really can’t believe that they’re parents now. it’s really unbelievable, when i was growing up with christian, never would i think that guy would be mature enough to become a father, let alone a lawyer, and now he’s both. jesus it’s crazy.” ben said shaking his leg with excitement

“same here, lennon was basically the wild child in college but she somehow is a schoolteacher. everyone thought i would be the first to get married and have a kid, but wow how have the tables turned.” she said finally sitting down

“so why haven’t you settled down or have kids? if you’re comfortable answering?” ben asked her curious seeing that she seemed like the type to settle down by their age

“um, i guess i just haven’t found the right person yet. i thought my ex would be the one, but the douchebag cheated on me.” y/n told him looking down at her hands

“i’m sorry that happened. i also want to apologize for earlier this year when we tried to go on the date they set up. i really should’ve been more presentable and nicer-” ben started 

“and not take a booty call in front of me?” she said cutting him off

“and not take a booty call in front of you.” he finished laughing a bit

“it’s okay, really. i’m actually seeing someone and i think he’s great.” y/n told him

“that’s amazing, i’m really happy for you.”

“what about you? what happened to the brunette from their wedding?” y/n asked curiously

“nothing. she didn’t seem like my type-” ben began before getting cut off by christian telling them they could come in

“hey, you guys can come now.” 

ben and y/n followed christian to their room and they couldn’t be more excited. as they entered, they saw lennon in her bed cradling their daughter and the two godparents couldn’t have smiled bigger at the sight.

“hi guys, we want you to meet  charlotte lucia wakes, charlie for short” lennon told the two before continuing

“do you want to hold her?” she asked

“uh, yeah. she’s so small.” y/n said taking the baby from her best friend as christian pushed a chair for her to sit in, cradling her head

ben walked over to where y/n was and looked over her shoulder. she lightly ran her finger over the baby’s face before she stopped at her hand and charlie tightly wrapping y/n’s finger in her tiny hand.

“hi baby, i’m your auntie y/n, i’m going to make sure you have some fun in your life and not be trapped with your parents all the time.” she said in a whisper

ben looked at her holding the baby and wondered what it would be like to be a dad. he was snapped out of his daydream when y/n asked him if he wanted to hold her

“ben, hello, earth to ben?” 

“yeah? sorry what did you say?” ben asked snapping out of his thoughts

“i asked if you wanted to hold her. you okay?” she asked him

“yeah i’m fine, just thinking.” he told her as she gave charlie to him making sure he was holding her head

the next few hours consisted of the four adults talking about the process up until lennon had to feed charlie and ben and y/n decided it was a good time for them to leave seeing that it was already late and visiting hours were almost over.

the pair said their goodbyes to the new parents and headed on their way out. when they got to the entrance, y/n pulled out her phone to order an uber since she didn’t take her car when it happened. ben noticed and decided to offer her a ride home seeing that it was nighttime and no one knew if the driver ended up being a creep or not. 

“hey, do you want me to give you a ride?” ben asked her putting his hands in his pockets 

“you really don’t have to, i just ordered an uber. thanks for offering though.”

“it’s really no problem, you still live in the same place right?” ben asked still unsure if she had move in the past several months 

“i still live in the same place, yeah. are you sure though? i really don’t want to bother you.” she told him 

“you're not bothering me at all and it’s really nothing. just please let me do this one nice thing for once. i sort of don’t want something to happen to you because you never know what’s going to happen.”

“ben jones, are you going soft on me? fine. i’ll let you drive me home.” she asked him while crossing her arms before opening the uber app once again, canceling her ride.

“no, i’m not. i’m just trying to be a nice person, don’t think charlie wants to grow up without an aunt and only have an uncle.” ben told her trying to avoid eye contact

“yeah that’s why.” 

“okay enough let’s go.”

y/n laughed as she followed ben to where his car was. when they entered the car it felt a little awkward. why was ben all of a sudden being nice to her? 

The drive to her apartment was too quiet to both of their tastes. neither one of them knew how to strike up a conversation, not even how their day was before lennon gave birth but they knew that  already, or what they’ve been up to. they kept quiet until she broke the silence,

“so, how was your meeting today?”

“it was fine, just some acting stuff that’s all” ben answered before continuing

“how’s the bakery going?”

“it’s going good, thinking about renovating it a bit, you know changing the place up, trying new recipes”

“That sounds nice. hope you get to do it.” ben told her stopping at the light

“yeah, it does but it’s also expensive so it’s on a hold until i can figure out something.” y/n told him as she looked at the window

“you know i can always help, just have to ask. it’s no big deal.” ben said as he pulled up to her apartment complex seeing the familiar gates

“no. i can’t take advantage of you, ben. it’s your money and you do what you want with it. i know you’re trying to help but i really don’t need to be seen as a charity case. please don’t try to argue with me.” she told him in a pleading tone

“fine. i won’t help you then. goodnight y/n.” 

“i’m sorry. goodnight ben.” y/n told him, her voice barely in a whisper closing the door

as ben drove off, the two can’t help but feel a sense of guilt in the way they both acted to each other a few minutes ago. ben, because of the way he started to act after she rejected his offer, and y/n for the way she rejected his offer.

[light-of-valentia]

headcanons: what they do when they can’t sleep

AN: I currently don’t have a set list of characters I will and will not be writing for headcanons, so if you want more than what I do, please leave a note! I will start off doing the Golden Deer kiddos for this one. -Admin Belle

(all characters in this headcanon are pre-timeskip!)

Claude von Riegan

He sometimes stays awake at night not because he has too much physical energy, but because he has so many thoughts and ideas running through his head

If he is alone, he will probably read from his countless books on alchemy, flora + fauna, mythology, crests, and tactics. If he has managed to snag a book from Hanneman’s office about crests or a “forbidden” book that Seteth tried to toss out, you bet he will stay up as late as he can reading it. He will typically read until he passes out, book still in hand.

As one would expect, he also loves to explore the monastery, going anywhere that he knows Rhea, Seteth, and the knights won’t notice

His favorite places include behind the greenhouse, the Officer’s Academy, the gardens, and if he’s feeling bold enough, the library. Basically anywhere outside, not dangerously far from the dorms, and with places he could easily hide if needed.

If he knows that Professor Byleth is still awake, he will sneak down to her room to “get some extra studying done”. 

He won’t admit it nor is it easy to tell, but he mostly does this because he gets lonely and he knows that Byleth has the same kind of rich inner world that contributes to interesting late-night conversations, assuming the conversation doesn’t consist of mostly him talking and her giving nonverbal responses.

Also flirting with Byleth while she’s tired is really fun, and he has no idea why she puts up with him at such ungodly hours.

On the very rare occasion that he somehow convinces Byleth to let him sleep over, he will definitely show up to class late the next morning because he can’t have anyone watching him leave from her room instead of his own.

Hilda Valentin Goneril

She doesn’t usually have problems sleeping, since she usually talks herself to tiredness during the daytime.

When she does, her first go-to is to get out an oil or scent like lavender or lilac to spritz across her pillow

Her parents definitely didn’t believe in aromatherapy like this, but after her first few sleepless nights at the academy and some conversations with Professor Manuela, she refuses to go anywhere that she knows she will be sleeping without a little bottle of lavender oil.

Every once in a while, she will also take the initiative to sort her jewelry and makeup into their proper homes, maybe playing with them a bit if she’s really restless.

If she knows that Marianne is still awake too, she will go to her dorm and braid her hair.

Hilda loves showing this quieter and gentler side of herself around Marianne, and when this happens, she will usually fall asleep before she remembers to go back to her own room.

Marianne usually likes being alone, but having the quiet company of a sleeping friend next to her brings her a sense of peace.

Marianne von Edmund

Lots of laying awake, staring at the wall or ceiling and worrying.

She will usually think about what she can do to be helpful on the following morning, and praying for forgiveness for whatever she feels that she has done wrong.

She actually struggles with insomnia, and after Byleth notices her trying not to nod off during lectures, she sends her to see Manuela, who gives her some sleeping medication with instructions to take from time to time

Sometimes she will use this, but other times she feels that using it is just a cop-out and that if the Goddess intended her to stay awake, then so be it

She Loves It when Hilda comes in to braid her hair

She feels so spoiled when it happens but she is usually too tired to tell Hilda that she doesn’t deserve her company

If and when all else fails, she will practice casting small healing cantrips until she feels tired enough to sleep.

Leonie Pinelli

Studying? Studying.

She would practice and train, but she knows that if she strays far past the dormitories that Seteth or Jeralt will lecture her the next morning after the knights catch her, and she would never want to disappoint Jeralt or Byleth.

She will usually study from whatever subject she feels that she is lacking in, or that will impress Jeralt or Byleth.

She tends to stay pretty in-the-loop about the wants and needs of other students, and she might stealthily try to run errands between rooms if requested, doing things like laundry and cleaning.

If she feels too tired to read, she will polish up whatever weapon is laying around that she found on the training grounds that needs some love, or she will do physical exercises like push-ups that she can do quietly in her room.

Bonus: One time while she was running errands or pacing around the dormitories, she spotted Claude slipping down off of the second floor balcony going to see Byleth. She confronted him about this, and while he never exactly told her his reasons, she now teases him occasionally for going to see the Professor at night, and uses his secret as blackmail to keep him in line when she can.

Lysithea von Ordelia

“Out of all the magic they teach me here at the academy, they don’t teach me a spell to make myself fall asleep.”

Sleep tends to come easy to her, but on the occasion that she is having issues, she will just quiz herself over cantrips and spells.

She wouldn’t dare leave her room past 10 or 11 unless she really needed to use the restrooms. Staying cooped up at night is much better than dealing with ghosts. Lysithea doesn’t have magic to deal with the incorporeal yet.

She likes to let her mind float between various things as she lays in bed, ranging from the dessert menu at the dining hall to how obnoxious Lorenz was yesterday.

She hides it under her bed during the day, but she also has a teddy bear from her father that she pulls out at night to fall asleep with.

Basically she is baby, and baby gets sleepy real quick.

Ignatz Victor

Usually if he is awake at night, it is worries and anxiety that are keeping him awake.

He likes to light a small candle under a lamp and watch it flicker, and right as he is about to fall asleep, he will instinctively reach over to put it out.

He isn’t afraid of the dark when he knows he is in his own room, but the artistic spirit inside of him loves watching the flickering tounge of a small flame and the way it ever so slightly lights up the room.

If he feels antsy, he will get out a somewhat larger candle, and use the light to draw out whatever catches his eye in chiaroscuro with some charcoal.

There is something about gliding his hand across a paper to produce the lights and shadows that puts him at ease, and once he feels like he has perfected his art as much as he can, he will fall right asleep.

If he is feeling particularly inspired, he will write a late-night poem about whatever floats through his mind. He rarely will willingly show this to anyone, but occasionally he will make paintings out of them if he finds himself with something overflowing with visual imagery.

Raphael Kirsten

Three words- late night snack.

He keeps a small stash of non-perishable snacks under his bed, like dried meats/jerky, bread, and whatever else he can get his hands on.

Very rarely he will sneak out with Claude to the kitchen, but he is less than stealthy and they’ve almost been caught once or twice.

Since he likes to make his awake-time useful, he tends to decide that he might as well look at his books and study a bit, but this usually bores him right to sleep.

Like Leonie, if he has extra physical energy to deal with, he might do push-ups on the floor of his room

If all else fails, he will sit on a ledge in front of his room and look at stars in the night sky

He’s a pretty relaxed dude, so it doesn’t take much to get him to sleep.

Lorenz Hellman Gloucester 

When he finds himself unable to easily obtain his beauty sleep, he gets annoyed pretty fast.

Likes to study or take his irritation out by playing hall monitor

He will just sit on a window ledge in the hallway outside of his room, half looking at the stars and half waiting for some unsuspecting miscreant to walk past

He always groggily tells anyone who passes him about “the importance of the rules”, but most people just tell him that they were doing something legitimate

He likes to hope to catch Claude mucking about or doing something suspicious, but he never does, since when Claude leaves his room at night, he does so by window.

He always has an herbal sleepy tea before bed, and his persistent belief that it works like magic convinces himself to fall asleep most of the time

[ebficnotes]

Lorebook notes on Worm Saga

Mannimarco’s manifesto taken at face value.  With copious comparisons to certain Summerset content, fair warning.

Text taken from UESP

Collection:

  Words of the Poets

Found in the following locations:

  Bookshelves in Deshaan, Grahtwood and Stormhaven

Worm Saga

by Mannimarco

Rhyming autobiography of Mannimarco

His actual name is on here! He’s openly a necro, worm reference and all. He is out, loud, and proud and is making zero attempts to hide it. At least for whenever this note is supposed to have taken place.

Mage from infancy, blood-selected for magicka, descended from isles of Artaeum forever! Destined was I from long before birth to exceed all mortals.

   Blood-selected - Actually born on Artaeum to Psijic parents, or otherwise powerful mages. Which could be legit because why not? Was a child prodigy of course. Yeah right, every power tripper says that. Or maybe it’s true, who knows?

  My pet theory is he’s actually not that great a caster, at least not at first. A common theme of necromancy in TES seems to be empowering people who can’t get it any other way. Manny himself complains in [world of corpses] and [oblivion book?] about his practice always drawing the lowest common denominator and it does, both morally and aptitude-wise. Not every one of course, but an awful lot. Also, a huge part of the practice is reanimating servants/helpers to fight for you, presumably because you are all alone and somehow summoning bones is easier than pulling Daedric servants out of Oblivion? So, Necromancy is a path for people who have an iron will and can-do attitude but don’t have the raw magic skill or reserves needed to fling fireballs at shit. It’s a power that suits the weak. Which is kinda cool/egalitarian if you think about it. Maybe Manny is like a necro teddy Roosevelt.

  Destined long before birth - May allude to his future godhood, if during the dragon break he could see himself as the necro-moon. Or just garden-variety destiny schitk.

  Forever - could be a fun theory that as a future god, he forevermore engineers it so he always is born in the best possible place for him to succeed and re-become a god every kalpa. Which means that, at some point, he was NOT born on Artaeum, but somewhere else. Maybe.

Altmer? Nay, Aldmer: scion of et'Ada by direct descent, summoned to Ceporah, and there was I sent: to Iachesis, to tutor, to test and ferment.

  Unless there are actual Aldmer on Artaeum, this probably refers to growing up among the practiconers of the old ways, i.e. not being brainwashed by the watered down faith on the mainland. He equates faith in the old ways as equivalent to being descended from the gods. Probably literally too, given his obsession with becoming a god.

  And/or, he can actually trace his ancestry all the way back to the Aldmer who first founded Artaeum. And why not? If he was born on Artaeum, he certainly could be this as well. The Psijics are both collectively old as fuck and consist mainly of massively inbred High Elves after all.

  Summoned to Ceporah - Just because you are born on Artaeum doesn’t mean you are automatically a Psijic. He has to run the gauntlet just like everyone else. I did always get the impression from past lore that Artaeum was more like a college town than a monastic hideaway in its own right. Like, the monastery is the big draw, but the local economy is made up of non-Psijics as well, maybe family of the actual monks, etc. Too bad we don’t get to see that in ESO at all.

Also sounds like he was asked to come directly. Like Ulfric Stormcloak with the Graybeards in Skyrim? I feel a type coming on…

  Iachesis was his mentor too, just like Vanus. Is Iachesis the defacto mentor for everyone, like a distant professor who fobs his students off on teaching assistants, or was he personal with it? I need to play Summerset again to get a better read on his character, because I didn’t pay enough attention at the time.

No magicka handler Iachesis Ritemaster, sage of the Elder Way, gentle spellcaster! To warp not the wind, unlike guild of the latter day, courting disaster.

  No magicka handler? Not a cowboy maybe? Cool and calm under pressure, poised, dispassionate, etc. Not reckless or showy.

  Sage of the elder way: Immense power that he refuses to use, in the name of Psijic neutrality? Manny admires Iachesis here, says he is a true believer who walks the walk. Lore says that Iachesis is famous in song and story too though, so this could also just be name-dropping.

  To warp not the wind. Winds of change? Psijic Neutrality and their mandate to study Change (which apparently also goes by ‘Sithis’ too, take that as you will). Iachesis is good at staying out of stuff that’s not his business - unlike the mages guild (the only guild he’d care about). Might be that Iachesis didn’t mess with Manny until Vanus insisted. In the 3rd and 4th memories in traitor’s vault, it really does sound like Vanus is the only one who gives a shit about his actions. “You’ll pay for this eventually”? Like prosecuting murder - or even plain old necromancy - in that place is an uphill battle.

  Courting disaster - This whole thing could be a dig at Vanus’s worm hunts, as seen in that memo on soul trapping! He’s telling Vanus to butt the fuck out, comparing Vanus to his beloved mentor Iachesis - who he name drops every chance he gets despite his giving him  the finger and leaving on his own - and telling him he’s coming up short. Maybe the mages guild/Vanus threw the first punch, and Manny is telling him to back off before he gets Really Mad. Who else do we know who’s a magicka cowboy Rambo wannabe who literally rides the lightening? Magicka handler lol.

It could also be that Mannimarco is a traditionalist about magic being an isolated and/or solitary practice, and not a big public institution like Vanus has done. Which would explain his cult set up and his penchant for caves and isolation in general, despite supposedly being some big shot politico and man-about-town.

Necromancy, death art, chose me stern and fast. To change not the present, but call up the past, obverse of Elder Way, forbidden without cause, deep-delved in death’s way, against Gray Cloak laws.

  Death-art - whatever his rationale for it, he was drawn to dead shit from the beginning. He’s a true blue death fetishist. Or maybe just an especially creative and socially minded taxidermist? He’s even a friggin bone-sculptor, as shown with that bone-golem in the vault. Or maybe he’s just tes’s answer to morbid goth guys lol. See HERE and HERE for bone and taxidermy art. Because that’s a thing of course.

  Call up the past - would be fun if this alludes to the RL necromancy practice of psychics and such channeling the dead to talk to them. Also/is another reference to the “True” old ways. Maybe lost knowlege of the ancestors? Knowledge so old that even the Psijics have forgotten it? That library again…

  Obverse, forbidden w/out cause - he claims that necromancy is a natural part of the old ways and he deliberately flouts their unjust rules against it. And the general way this game treats necromancy suggests to me that he isn’t completely full of shit about this. Also the Old Ways as a religion is said to be ancestor worship. Who else do we know who practices a form of necromancy under the guise of ancestor worship? Makes me wonder if Manny and Veloth would have been bros, at least on some points. Or not. I know the Tribunal hate necromancy, but I don’t know if OG Veloth’s stance on it was the same or not. Of course, the Morrowind stance on necromancy i believe, was “if its not Dunmer, it’s fair game”, so maybe yes?

  To change not the present? A big part of tes lore is the mostly undisputed fact that everyone on Nirn from a worm (lol) to a sabrecat to the emperor himself was at some point descended from the original god-spirits that formed the mortal plane itself. I.e. every living thing in tes is a god-baby and theoretically, everyone can re-become a god if they have the stones to try. Maybe this is where he and Vanus split views? Vanus wants to improve the world for future generations by making magic accessible, while Mannimarco is a tes-style gnostic who only cares about magic in as much as it lets him and any like-minded types get back to heaven. He doesn’t consider any atrocities he or his order commits as anything special because the world was fucked from the start. And the Psijics don’t bother to lock him up (which they are totally ok with doing when it serves their purposes, see Val’s husband) is because he’s partially right? Oooh boy…

Ill-timed then arrived one, Trechtus by name: ambitious, obstreperous, blind and deaf to shame, talented, reckless, thought himself my equal, his arrogance and envy determined our sequel.

  Ill timed - he was already actively studying necromancy and flouting Psijic authority when Vanus shows up like a bull in a china shop. This is funny because Vanus is 11 years old when he first arrives there. Wtf  is a shy 11 year old kid gonna do, even if he is a super-mage? Gotta say though, I think the idea of kid!Vanus holding his own in a philosophical pissing match against a 900+ year old Mannimarco is the greatest thing ever.

  Even funnier, that first vault memory shows Vanus at least in his 16-20’s if not older (so they’ve known each other a while now?) and makes them look downright friendly to each other. Vanus’s exclaimation and exceedingly casual “come let’s explore” makes it sound like they were the first two in the door. Guess it’s ‘ill timed’ in the 20/20 hindsight sense? He thought Vanus would be a good bet but he wasn’t. Hell, maybe Manny thought that Vanus would be interested in godhood too because of his shit life experiences, but Vanus is either too optimistic about the world or too grossed out by the necro shit to get on board. Or something else?

  Those vault scenes diverge from MQ Mannimarco in several different ways. They almost feel mundane, like whatever their disagreement was, it was literally about undead drones and nothing more. No godhood, no anything. There’s a mention of him murdering his classmates, but that feels weak somehow. My first thought in fact was they ripped this off of Nelacar’s quest in Skyrim, right down to the dead students, only they didn’t do as good a job explaining it. Maylen was driven crazy by Azura. What’s Manny’s reason? Sociopathy? Yeah maybe, but it still feels like a copout. Or an opportunity lol. Half formed understandings and all.

  Arrogance and envy - arrogance yeah. Vanus barging in waving a bible around shouting about good and evil - something that Manny’s hardcore old ways don’t acknowledge. Envy though? Vanus is a legit extremely powerful mage and the other smartest guy on the island. Manny himself is saying so here, so envy over what?

   His shyness? That load screen for the vault and Vastarie’s note suggests that the order lost a LOT of people when they booted Manny out. Maybe Manny already had a solid following on Artaeum and Vanus wasn’t nearly as charismatic, i.e. Manny has all the followers and Vanny doesn’t. Or just garden-variety wallflower shit. Him and Manny are friends but all the girls/guys want Manny or whatever.

  Power envy? That doesn’t seem to jive with the Vanus we meet in the game. He’s an overly boastful and/or massively insecure little shit that needs a good spanking (and would probably love it lol), but he doesn’t seem selfish like that to me. And what is “power” but either material resources or influence over other people? He’s got resources to spare now, and as said above, he is intelligent and magically powerful in his own right, so social/political shit is all that’s left. So we’re back to shyness.

  Could be just Manny slandering him, but I like to think there’s an element of truth to all his lies, since he’s supposed to be a very good liar and that’s how you lie good. Besides, this is a poem and poems are supposed to be all about feelings, right?

  Could be him projecting here too I guess, i.e Vanus was really the popular/smart one, and psychological shit doesn’t need to make sense to be true.

Class envy? now that would both make sense and be a nasty one for both of them, and would fit with his next line too.

  Obstreperous = loud/crass/graceless. He’s either calling Vanny inelegant because of his low class former life, which would be really shitty of him, or calling him willfully disrespectful of the Order’s mores of poise and grace, or literally just a clumsy, awkward little fucker.

  Or hell, all three. He’s really pissed isn’t he? Mannimarco himself doesn’t seem all that inclined to shame either, go figure. Notice how every word he uses could just as easily be used to describe himself. MQ Mannimarco certainly is ambitious, reckless, and loud. They’re like caricatures of each other.

  Thought himself my equal. Well Manny sure as hell treats him like one!  Oops.

  Trechtus - Vanus’s old serf’s name. How did Manny learn this? And the fact that he is lowborn? That Orc in the delve says the Psijics discourage talking about their former lives and Vanus also doesn’t appear to tell anyone about his past except his closest, whoever they are. His Artaeum lost says “those of you who know me well.” -Hermaeus mora’s anachronistic book dropping notwithstanding.

  Also, entertainers/bards/etc. are an artistic class, so as a member, Vanus wouldn’t be seen as low in Altmer society. Except Vanus was not an entertainer, he was an errand boy. But I think that entertainers are one of the few ways of social mobility that exist in Summerset. That house of revelries lets anyone join I think. So he could have just as easily been an apprentice, or in the running to be, if he hadn’t joined the Psijics. He was only eight years old when they found him and they kept him around for three whole years instead of just dumping him into an orphanage, so he must have been good for something. Mannimarco could have coaxed the name and what she knew of his history out of Heliand I guess. Or Maybe that shit hold was/is infamous to the resident npcs and we don’t get to read about it. Or Vanus could have told Manny himself…

Magic he practiced: open, raw power, flouted the Elder Way, endangered the tower, then with lowborn cunning cast me as the villain, engineered exile, made me Tamrielan.

  Endangered the tower?- Vanus is supposed to be a one of the most powerful mages on the planet. Maybe he’s saying Vanus threw a fit and almost burned down the dreaming cave. I can def see Vanus doing something like that, even if accidently. He doesn’t have the greatest judgement around personal squicks, even 300 years later.

  Flouted elder way - messing with whatever Manny was doing down there instead of butting out like a good Psijic? Vanus later claims the tower shook at their arguing - not at Manni’s ritual. He didn’t cast him as the villain there even with every opportunity and incentive to do so, so maybe it’s legit. I find it hard to believe Vanus hasn’t seen this little missive either. This appears long before his “Artaeum lost” does. Btw, I love the idea that the tower is actually sapient/sentient enough to express an opinion on the weird little dudes inside it having a tiff.

  Or more boringly, Vanus’s tower “lurching” could a euphanism for their fight, Which to me just makes Vanus look even worse here. I.e. he’s admitting in Artaeum lost that he DID start the fight alluded to here and almost burnt down the dreaming cave, by trying to be all vague and poetic about it.

  Lowborn cunning - refers to the prejudice in Summerset of the lowest castes being morally degenerate.  He’s saying that Vanus is ghetto-trash talking lies about his betters to get his own way. Think how Republicans (USA) often talk about welfare recipients. Ouch. That is a low fucking blow damn. Vanus would NEVER forgive him for pulling that card I don’t think.

  Or at least not before decorating his basement with the intestines of every worm cultist within portal calling distance lol. Maybe this is the impetus for those attacks in his soul gem note! Vanus may hate necromancy, but he has zero issue with violence in general. After all, that dremora calls his and Vanus’s mission an orgy of destruction. Coming from one of Molag bal’s, that’s really saying something.

  In very slight sympathy for the devil though, if Vanus did start that fight and did blame Mannimarco for fucking up the tower and thus getting him expelled, then I can see why he would call him probably the nastiest insult you could call a person in Summerset. He’s pissed remember?

  He’s already condemming Vanus for bowing to what he probably considers religious whitewashing by both the Altmer and his former order, why not a lowborn liar while he’s at it? And given the Psijics themselves are, in the Altmer pecking order, socially/symbolically above even kings and other heads of state, it’d be weird for him NOT have been exposed to those ideas growing up, even among the egalitarian Psijics. In his mind, Vanus doing what he did probably confirmed every prejudice he’s ever heard about the lower casts. [I may do more on this later. Talk about a can of worms…]

  Engineered exile? Seems like he’s saying Vanus got him kicked out on purpose by starting a fight in the tower and then blaming him for the fallout. In all the other sources though (including the last vault scene), Vanus appears to NOT have wanted Mannimarco to be let loose on Tamriel, his fault or not. So this is either gross misunderstanding or just lying through his teeth to push even more hate for the mages guild, as if necros didn’t already have enough reason for that, or he’s once again, just really pissed and resentful. He may not sound too torn up about leaving Artaeum in those scenes, but getting thrown out probably wasn’t in his plans either. Or some combo of all the above, because that’s where the truth often is.

All undervalued my will and resolution, my knowledge formidable, my wit and acumen. Thus found I new allies to study the death-rites, the sacrifice rituals, the summons of ghost-wights.

  Seems to be claiming that he did have a solid network on Artaeum, but when he got kicked out, they abandoned him and he had to start again from scratch. Sounds like a sympathy lie considering Vastarie’s note and that loadscreen, unless all those people who left Artaeum left, not to follow him directly, but because these events exposed the hypocrisy of the order on both sides and so they decided to go off and do their own thing.

  I found new allies: so poor Manny is all alone now and just want’s some new necro friends, awww. I can imagine Vanus’s own guild recruiting poster being nearly identical to this, persecution complex and all. IS there a Guild recruiting poster somewhere like this?

Robed all in black goes the Order of Black Worm, bringing wisdom to seekers who see beyond death-term, but Trechtus-now-Vanus pursues us to continent, to persecute worm-wrights his evil intent.

All in black - yeah goth boy lol. I bet he dyed his Psijic robes black too. Though he does go through a red phase at some point 😁

  Bringing wisdom - sounds like missionaries. So he’s mister goodwill here, now committed to bringing forbidden knowledge to anyone who wants it.

  See beyond death-term - the science of Undeath, or just being willing to work with the dead in general  maybe. It’s weird: in  gameplay we talk with, summon, and use tons of spirits, trapped and otherwise, and the npcs aknoledge them too, and i guess this isn’t considered necromancy? Maybe becasue they’re allready trapped down here anyway, so it don’t count? Or maybe it is and its just not called that? I’ve heard some people eat fish but claim to be vegetarians after all.

  Trechtus now Vanus - ooh outing him. Is directly calling Vanus an evil crusader who’s persecuting him and his religion. And of course he’s making Vanus’s leaving Artaeum all about himself, pegging his leaving to follow him and persecute him for for his beliefs, and not because Vanus himself was dissatisfied with things on Artaeum. Depending on how you see Vanus though, this may or may not have an element of truth. Also, there’s at least one lorebook that suggests Vanus used this line of thought to get his guild chartered in Firsthold, nevermind fucking Kinlord Rills himself was a necro. He sure knows how to pick’em doesn’t he?

Come, all necrotics, defend practice and life, against Mages who wield magicka like a knife, heedless of heresy and ignorant of Elder Way, hating necromancy yet heralding doomsday.

  Heedless of heresy - he’s definitely pegging his thing as a legit religion. Calling Mages with a capital M, no shit who he’s talking about here. Calling the guild and it’s anti-necromancy stance a heresy against the Old Ways. Wow.

  Wield like a knife - the guild mages are the ones cutting and doing harm, while he and his are just trying to defend their way of life. This may imply that Vanus has been making life hard for necros long before that mess with Bal goes public, otherwise what reason would already isolation-inclined hedge-mages like his ilk want with what seems to be just another magic club with its own set of problems? According to UESP, this thing is found in the capital cities, so it seems to be meant as a sort of recruiting poster for the Worm Cult. Something had to make those unaffiliated necros think this was the better deal.

  Heralding doomsday sounds like boilerplate end times shit but idk. He says this in “later” works too and I never could make heads or tails of it. There isn’t any Christian style Apocalypse in tes as far as I know. There’s that “second coming of Talos” stuff in Skyrim, but that is long after Tiber Septim ascends. As far as I know, he didn’t push that stuff himself.

  Awful Thought: what if Vanus’s persecution leads Manny to step up his godhood timetable by trying to mantle Molag Bal instead of just waiting around for Zurin Arctus to lose his mojo? Holy shit. (Assuming he actually remembers that bit in his dragon-break experience anyway.)

  Another awful thought: Vanus and his guild are directly responsible in lore for normalizing daedra summoning and conjuration. Daedra summoning is heavily linked to daedra worship in general, and as we all know, those princes don’t need much of an excuse to break Sohta’s no-meddling agreement, or at least to bs their way around it. Maybe Manny is accusing Vanus of tempting fate just as much as he is, by giving the people at large the ability to contact Oblivion. Heck, given his focus on bone-puppets and escape-proof soulgems, Manny might even think of necromancy as the “safer” form of conjuration!

Yet heralding doomsday? Maybe it’s not doom in the RL sense of the word? Doom in tes has a different meaning in lore, though I’m not really clear on it. I don’t think its entirely negative though.

Child of Nirn ponder, which would you choose: tyranny of mages, restricting spell use, or necromancy, communion with thy dead, ancestors returned, generations reunited?

  He’s in direct competition with the mages guild here. Follow Vanus and have to hide who you are, or follow him and practice among like-minded fellows. Awww. And given Vanus’s incredibly easy to misinterpret stance, if not outright lie, about soul gems, he’s got a lot of potential followers from this - me included, oy. What can I say? Freedom of information, man. Dammit Vanus, stop making me go dark side!

  Communion with thy dead, ancestors, etc. RL necromancy yay! He is, or at least appears to be, a proper old school believer, at least on some fronts, appealing to all those marginalized necros, or necro-curious, who want a community but are clearly not welcome in Vanus’s shiny new guild.

Other Thoughts:

  This reminds me of RL minority religious practices like voodoo and Santeria, that are vastly perceived as not good by mainstream (white/christian/western) society, but are actual religious beliefs with a long history. And even a vilified one. Has there EVER been a movie or TV show that cast voodoo in a good light?

I have no idea if tes necromancers actually deserve the hate or not. We sure as hell don’t see much in-game to suggest they aren’t anything but bad news, especially the worm cult itself, but whatever. That’s what fic is for I guess.

[shawnpetermuffins]

03.16

March Mendes Madness

Writing prompt #16 Needing each other

***

It's only supposed to be two weeks. We've gone so much longer without seeing each other - months at a time, even. But something about this two weeks was different. Our calls were longer. Our texts were random, but came frequently throughout the day, consisting of me telling him about this cute dog I saw, and him telling me about how Teddy fell in the kitchen because she was sliding in her socks.

It's nearing two a.m. here, and I can't seem to fall asleep while I'm scrolling aimlessly through Instagram, liking a few fan edits of Shawn every so often. The movie playing on my laptop beside me has long since been forgotten and I close it, suddenly frustrated that I can't sleep. But something keeps telling me to wait. I just have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I need to be doing something right now. And when my phone starts ringing in my hand, I know exactly what it is.

"Hi, rockstar."

"You're awake," is the first thing he says, to which I smile.

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep. Is everything okay? It's kind of late over there."

He doesn't answer for a minute or so and I pull my phone from my ear to make sure we're still connected. We are.

"Shawn? Baby, what's wrong?"

I hear him sigh on the other end, "I'm sorry. You should go to sleep. I'll call you in the morning."

"No sir." I sit up in bed, "I'm up now and I want to talk to you. What's wrong?"

"I need you," he says softly.

"In what sense of the word? Because if it's sexually, I have to change. Because this lost in Japan hoodie just isn't cutting it for me."

He chuckled, "well knowing you, you're definitely not wearing anything but your panties underneath, so it would definitely be working for me." I hear a shuffle on his side and I know he's switched ears. "But no, that's not what I need. Surprisingly. Maybe later though?" He asks hopefully.

"Sure, bubs. Whatever you want. Now, can you tell me what's going?"

"I just," another sigh. "We're working on this song and I can't seem to get this chord progression right. I really just called because I'm not inspired and I needed to hear you. So talk to me. Please. Talk to me about anything - everything."

I hum, "well let's see. I have a new assignment due next Friday. It's a group project." I ramble on for a good ten to fifteen minutes about the most random and insignificant things that have happened to me throughout the five days we've been apart. He mutters something every so often, a grunt of acknowledgement leaves his lips here and there so I know he's still listening.

I stop when I don't hear him respond anymore. My heart racing just a little in the anticipation of hearing his soft snores on the other side. "Shawn? You still there."

There's an intake of breath and I smile because I know that sharp intake means he was falling asleep. "I'm here," he says, his voice a low whisper.

"Maybe you should rest, baby. Just call it a night and get back to work first thing tomorrow morning. You're working yourself too hard."

He groans into the phone, "I wish you were here with me."

"I know. Me too."

"I hate being away from you."

"It's only nine more days," I reason, playing with the draw string of his hoodie. "If we've made it through nearly six months without seeing each other, I think we can manage nine days. You just gotta hold on for me, baby."

I know he nodded because I can hear the rustling of air on his side. "I think I can do that."

"You better," I say sternly. "And when you're back home, you can need me anyway you see fit."

He barks out a whine, "God, you'll be the death of me." He pauses, "I think I need you now."

I can only laugh at how desperate he sounds. "You still in the studio?"

"I'm outside. But... it looks like everyone is either slumped over on the couch, or in the kitchen. I might be able to slip past them to the bedroom, if you think you can help me with this growing problem."

"And why would I do that?" I tease.

"Because you're the cause of it. Now all I can think about is you in our bed in that damn hoodie, that you never give back. And I can just see myself pulling you closer to me by that thick fabric, and-"

I let out a low whimper and clench my legs together. "Okay, okay. I get it. I'll help you get off. But only if you help me in return."

"I can't think of anything I'd rather do more."

***

A/n: this is trash, I'm sorry.

Like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

[littleindigochildx]

I’m working on it ♡ [daddy’s prompt]

Things had been a little complicated at the Deschaine home since Declan’s release. Their lives hadn’t been the picture perfect imagine Savanna had drawn up for them. It was hard for her to understand why her father and mother weren’t getting back together. It was even harder for her to understand why they couldn’t all live under the same roof. Declan still came by to pick the kids up to spend time with them, but he wasn’t allowed inside and he wasn’t allowed to be in close proximity to Victoria.

A car horn in the driveway signaled Declan’s arrival. It was his day with the kids. “Savanna! Timothy! Your father is here. Please get your things.” Vic called up the stairs. Homework was already finished, but both children had a bag with their games, art supplies, toys, and snacks. Savanna’s bag also contained her beloved teddy bear. She couldn't go anywhere without him.

“Are we sleepin’ at daddy’s house t’nite?” Savvy asked. She was the first one down the stairs for a change. Usually it was Timothy, but they hadn’t seen Declan in almost a week and Savvy missed spending time with him. He certainly wasn’t perfect… (no Deschaine was) but he was their father and the kids loved him no matter what people around town said about him.

“Not tonight, Butterfly. You and your brother have school in the morning. Mommy has to run a few errands so daddy is going to take you to dinner.” Victoria explained to her youngest. Timmy came down to join them shortly after. Declan honked again in case they didn’t hear him the first time. “Be good.” Vic said as she kissed both children on the forehead. She watched them get in the car from the doorway and waved them off as Declan pulled out of the driveway.

Quiet moments like this were few and far between, but she missed the chaos when the kids weren’t home.

---------------

“Where are we goin’ ta eat, daddy?” Savanna asked as she bucked her seatbelt with Teddy secured in her arms. “Mommy said yer takin’ us ta dinner.” The little brunette beamed. Limbo was a small town, so there weren’t many options as far as dinner was concerned. Declan left the destination up to the children. “Where do you two wanna eat.” Without hesitation, Timmy and Savanna said in unison, “Dine ‘n Dash.” The diner was one of their favorite locations because they had food both kids would eat, and their desserts were to die for. “Dine ‘n Dash it is then.” Declan agreed.

---------------

“I wanna sit with daddy.” Savanna said as they entered the diner. Usually the kids argued about which one of them got the window seat in their favorite booth, but this time Savvy didn’t care as long as she got to sit with her dad. Timmy didn’t protest. He was already making himself right at home.

“I already know what I’m gonna get.” The little boy grinned. “What’s that, pal?” DC asked. It was in that moment he realized that he didn’t really know his children. Victoria knew them all better than she knew herself, but Declan was still learning what their likes and dislikes were. He missed out on so much while he was in prison and he was trying his best to make up for that now.

“I’m gonna get a bacon cheeseburger an’ fries.” Timothy replied confidently. His order was usually the same every time they went out to dinner. He was consistent. “Good choice.” DC smirked while he reached across the table to ruffle his son’s hair. “What’a ‘bout you, lil’ lady?” His attention shifted to Savanna. She was studying the menu, trying to decide which of her favorites she was going to order. “What are <i>you</i> gonna get, daddy?” She asked with an arched brow. She was still trying to figure out what he liked just like he was still trying to figure out what she and Timmy liked.

---------------

When the waitress came to bring drinks for the table, Declan placed dinner orders for everyone. Savanna settled on chicken tenders, her usual, and french fries. DC and Timmy both opted for burgers making sure they’d have enough room for dessert. “Daddy…” Savanna spoke as she colored the placemat that was set in front of her. “Are you ever gonna live with me, Timmy, and mommy?”

The question sounded so simple...The answer was anything but. In all honesty, Declan wasn’t sure if that would ever be a possibility, but he was a Deschaine and Deschaine’s didn’t let things go without putting up a fight first. “I don’t know, babygirl.” He responded. If he had it his way, he would already be living with them. That had been his original plan when he was released from prison. He hadn’t given it much thought since.

Nothing had gone according to plan since his release. Things between him and Victoria were complicated. They both still loved each other, that much was evident, but she deserved more than he was willing to give. Vic had already filed for divorce. She signed the papers. Declan was the roadblock. A piece of him (as small as that was) hoped things would change...That Vic would change her mind for the sake of their kids, but the reality was, she was doing this for them.

“Well…” Savvy spoke again. “...I wish you an’ mommy lived in the same house with us...cause we miss you.” He could hear the sadness in her tone. “Me too, lil one. I’m workin’ on it.” He promised. It wasn’t the first empty promise he made to his kids, but instead of Ransom and Dottie, it was Timmy and Savanna this time. They had been shielded from his <i>angry side</i> as much as possible so it was hard for them to understand why things couldn’t work out like they wanted. The situation was too <i>grown up</i> for them to comprehend.

“Is that why mommy has been so sad?” The little girl questioned. “Cause she misses ya too?” Declan wasn’t sure how to respond. He couldn’t speak to Victoria’s happiness because he was no longer the reason she smiled. Too much time had passed. They spent too much of their lives apart for things to just fall back into place. “I wish she could’a come ta dinner with us.” Timothy chimed in. He figured that some time together as a family might fix things, but Vic’s decision didn’t happen overnight. It was something she had been thinking about for a long time. Her happiness had to come first, for once.

Declan was just about to speak again when their dinners arrived. He dodged a bullet. Taking the kids to dinner was supposed to be so he could get to know them better, not talk about things that were beyond their control. Changing the topic was the only way to derail this conversation.

“So…” He began with a mouth full of food. Savvy chuckled. Clearly Timmy had inherited this trait from his father even with Vic’s constant reminders not to speak with his mouth full. “How’s school?” It may have been the first time DC had ever taken an interest in what his children were doing in their personal lives. He knew Savanna and Timothy were smart. They had report cards taped to the refrigerator as proof. “School is good. We’re learnin’ long division.” Timmy beamed. He was good at math and the only one of the Deschaine's who actually enjoyed the subject. “We took’a test on Monday and I got the highest grade in my class.” Declan grinned. “Might need ya ta do my taxes.” He teased. Like Declan Deschaine ever filed taxes.

Savanna sat quietly and listened as she ate. It wasn’t like her to be so quiet. “What’a ‘bout you?” DC nudged her gently. “What’are you doin’ in school?” Reading and art were her best subjects. “I made ya a picture in art class.” She almost forgot until now. Savvy wiped her hands off on a napkin and dug through her coat pocket to show him. “This is for you ta hang up at home.” She flattened the drawing so he could get a better look at it. She had drawn a picture of the two of them at Disneyland.

Victoria and Dora had taken the kids to Disney for the first time over the summer. They both had the time of their lives and wanted so badly to go back, but with school in session, it wasn’t easy for them to pack up and go. Victoria didn’t want them to fall behind on classwork. “That’s you...me...an’ Mickey Mouse. We are waitin’ in line for Space Mountain.” The seven year old explained. “Do ya think <i>we</i> could go ta Disneyland, daddy? You, me, Timmy, Dottie, Ransom, an’ mommy? We could all go. It's not just for kids, ya know...” Another question that wasn’t easy for him to answer. The old Declan wouldn’t have given it another thought when it came to disappointing his family, but he was a changed man...even if Victoria didn’t want to believe it. Seeing the sad expression on his youngest’s face made his heart ache. “I’ll have ta talk ta yer mom ‘bout that…" He changed the subject again. "Ya better finish yer dinner if ya want dessert.”

Timothy was nearly done with his burger while Savvy barely touched her chicken. As much as he wanted to be the <i>fun</i> parent… Declan knew Victoria would kill him if he let their daughter have brownies and ice cream for dinner. “If ya eat half, I might share my dessert with ya.” He teased. “Daddy…. I don’t wanna share.” She giggled softly. “I want my <i>own</i> dessert.” A mischievous little smirk spread across her face. “But maybe if <i>you</i> eat half I’ll share with <i>you.</i>” She teased him back.

---------------

<b>7:00pm</b>

Dinner was over and the kids were restless. The sugar was kicking in. Maybe sweets this close to bedtime wasn’t the best idea, but who was DC to deny them when it made them so happy? He’d deal with any punishment Victoria threw at him for this. She wasn’t expecting them to be home for another hour, so Declan hoped they’d burn off the extra energy before then.

“Can we go ‘ta the arcade, dad? Please?” Timothy begged. It had been months since he and Savanna had been to The Coin Slot. “Yea, daddy! Can we? Pleeeeease?” Savvy chimed in. How was he supposed to say no when they were looking at him with big doe eyes? “They got’a shootin’ game that I’m <i>really</i> good at.” The little girl added. She almost held the top score which was something she had been extremely proud of. Victoria, on the other hand… It gave her anxiety knowing her youngest was so good at a game that was so violent.

Savanna was her father’s daughter. There was no denying it. A Deschaine through and through.

[pavlovers]

blossom, blush, breeze, bright, cuddly, daisies, precious, smile, starlight, thimble, wispy

blossom; favorite book/movie/song?

book: for sure the great gatsby! almost every sentence in it is just gorgeous and it’s consistently been a book i feel like i can always come back to and gain something completely new out of it. 

movie: hmm this is a bit hard because i dont watch movies all that often and i even more rarely rewatch movies. but off the top of my head, heathers (1988), my own private idaho (1991), mysterious skin (2004), pan’s labyrinth (2006), and eternal sunshine of the spotless mind (2004) are all insanely good. oh and yesterday i actually did end up rewatching a movie (better off dead (1985)) with my friend and like,,, that movie is so stupid its borderline amazing. and oh of course i cant not mention paddington 2!!! unironically though that movie is so sweet and wonderful  :-)

song: lately tbh i have only been finding myself listening to various neil ciceirega mashups but yeah “rollercloser” (which is a mashup of the ohio players’ love rollercoaster and nin’s closer) is just,, it works too well. who allowed it to be that good?!

blush; what was your stuffed animal as a child?

honestly from what i can remember and the very few anecdotes my parents have told me about my behavior as a small child i dont think there was ever a stuffed animal that i had a really strong bond to. not that i had that many anyways, but i still remember some of the ones i did have. i had a teddy bear with a little red shirt that said “hope” on it, a plush of the bear from bear in the big blue house, and a care bear plush (idk of which one since i never watched the care bears as a child but im p sure it was the pink one?). also idk if it counts but i also had a panda pillowpet.  

breeze; most precious childhood memory?

either playing the game of life with my friends during indoor recess or playing tag with my friends at,, (normal?) recess. elementary school for the most part was alright. 

bright; mermaids or fairies?

while i greatly admire the concept of luring sailors to their death via song, i think im gonna go with fairies. being tiny, having wings, living in the woods and causing mischief sounds v rad to me. 

cuddly; what’s your favorite time period?

musically & aesthetically im gonna go with late 70s/early 80s. fashion-wise ill say the late 60s/most of the 19th century (referring to men’s fashion of course). 

daisies; describe a moment when you felt free.

3 days ago when i was at an orchard w my dad snatching up as many ripe peaches as we could from this peach grove even though the orchard specifically said that they were only selling blueberries and raspberries for the time being. it was just 5-10 min of my grubby little hands going ham. the cashier was very nice about it though and let us buy the peaches. 

precious; what is something valuable that you learned in your life?

that i owe a lot more to myself than i do to others. and that receiving assistance from others is ok! and essential sometimes. 

smile; what is one thing that has greatly affected you?

this might be a very obvious answer but well, the internet. i mean it’s shaped my tastes in art/entertainment, my politics (for the most part), my views on myself and my mental illness, and countless more aspects of my personality. its probably the single most formative part of my life (as im sure it is for most people nowadays) besides yknow my family life. and school. 

starlight; what was your favourite show as a child?

kim possible, wizards of waverly place, danny phantom, the emperor’s new school, etc. 

thimble; is there somebody you look up to? who are they?

theres some aspects of my dad that i really admire. hes definitely not perfect but he really is hardworking and motivated when it comes to his career and completing adult responsibilities in general. and hes also great at talking me down and explaining things to me in a calm, rational manner whenever i happen to get terribly anxious about anything. my friend grace, even though she’s a year younger than me, is also just,, a huge blessing. she’s a big idealist and amazing at so many things??? (writing, drawing, straight As, soccer, violin & piano). and shes also so empathetic and has the biggest heart, and has given me so many pep talks whenever i happen to be freaking out about anything school-related. 

wispy; do you like the place where you grew up? do you think you will live there when you get older?

i am perhaps biased because my childhood was and has not been the best but yeah i am not my hometown’s biggest fan. its most likely due to the fact that most people who live in my town are quite old and as a result there’s not a lot of spots for people my age to like,, hang out/meet up at, or really that many places where you can just enjoy yourself, so i dont really go out all that much. and personally i find living in such a sprawling suburb where its basically impossible to go anywhere without a car to be kinda suffocating. so yeah im not planning on staying here for long, but mostly because i feel that i badly need the fresh start. 

[tlatollotl]

There's no other way to put it: Maria de los Angeles Tun Burgos is a supermom.

She's raising five children, does housework and chores — we're talking about fresh tortillas every day made from stone-ground corn — and she helps with the family's business in their small village about 2 1/2 hours west of Cancun on the Yucatan.

Sitting on a rainbow-colored hammock inside her home, Burgos, 41, is cool as a cucumber. It's morning, after breakfast. Her youngest daughter, 4-year-old Alexa, sits on her knee, clearly trying to get her attention by hitting a teddy bear on her mom's leg. The middle daughter, 9-year-old Gelmy, is running around with neighborhood kids — climbing trees, chasing chickens — and her oldest daughter, 12-year-old Angela, has just woken up and started doing the dishes, without being asked. The older kids aren't in school because it's spring break.

Burgos is constantly on parental duty. She often tosses off little warnings about safety: "Watch out for the fire" or "Don't play around the construction area." But her tone is calm. Her body is relaxed. There's no sense of urgency or anxiety.

In return, the children offer minimal resistance to their mother's advice. There's little whining, little crying and basically no yelling or bickering.

In general, Burgos makes the whole parenting thing look — dare, I say it — easy. So I ask her: "Do you think that being a mom is stressful?"

Burgos looks at me as if I'm from Mars. "Stressful? What do you mean by stressful?" she responds through a Mayan translator.

A five-minute conversation ensues between Burgos and the translator, trying to convey the idea of "stressful." There doesn't seem to be a straight-up Mayan term, at least not pertaining to motherhood.

But finally, after much debate, the translator seems to have found a way to explain what I mean, and Burgos answers.

"There are times that I worry about my children, like when my son was 12 and only wanted to be with his friends and not study," Burgos says. "I was worried about his future." But once she guided him back on track, the worry went away.

In general, she shows no sense of chronic worry or stress.

"I know that raising kids is slow," she says. "Little by little they will learn."

Breast, formula or goat?

Burgos learned how to be a mom by watching — and helping — her own mom, her aunts and her neighbors raise many children. Throughout her childhood, she was training to be a mom.

Here in the U.S., many parents don't have this firsthand experience before having children themselves. Instead, we often learn about burping, potty training and tantrum control through parenting books, Google searches and YouTube videos. But this information comes with two big caveats, which aren't always divulged.

For starters, parenting advice can give the impression that the recommendations are based on science. But a deep look at some studies reveals that the science is more like smoke and mirrors. Sometimes the studies don't even test what the parenting expert is purporting they do.

Take for instance a study often cited as evidence that the "cry-it-out" method of sleep training is effective. The method claims that if babies are left to cry themselves to sleep, eventually they will learn to fall asleep on their own without crying, and sleep through the night.

But what the study actually tests is a gentler regime, in which babies were left to cry for only a short amount of time before being comforted. And the parents were supported by a hefty amount of personalized counseling on their babies' sleep and eating habits. The babies who made progress also did not retain the ability to put themselves to sleep and stay asleep over the long term.

As psychologist Ben Bradley argues in his book Vision of Infancy, a Critical Introduction to Psychology: "Scientific observations about babies are more like mirrors which reflect back the preoccupations and visions of those who study them than like windows opening directly on the foundations of the mind."

And sometimes the data supporting the recommendation are so flimsy that another study in a few years will come along and not only overturn the first study but completely flip the advice 180 degrees.

This is exactly what happened last year with peanuts. Back in 2000, the American Academy of Pediatrics advised parents not to give babies peanut butter because one study suggested early exposure would increase the risk of developing an allergy. But last year, the medical community made a complete about-face on the advice and now says "Let them eat peanuts!" Early peanut exposure actually prevents allergies, follow up studies have found.

So if science isn't the secret sauce to parenting books, what is? To answer that, we have to go back in time.

In the early 1980s, the British writer Christina Hardyment began reviewing more than 650 parenting books and manuals, dating all the way back to the mid-1700s when advice publications started appearing in hospitals. The result is an illuminating book, called Dream Babies, which traces the history of parenting advice from 17th-century English physician and philosopher John Locke to the modern-day medical couple Bill and Martha Sears.

The conclusions from the book are as clear as your baby's tears: Advice in parenting books is typically based not on rigorous scientific studies as is at times claimed but on the opinions and experiences of the authors and on theories from past parenting manuals — sometimes as long as the 18th century.

Then there's the matter of consistency — or lack thereof. Since the late 1700s, "experts" have flip-flopped recommendations over and over, from advising strict routines and discipline to a more permissive, laissez-faire approach and back again.

"While babies and parents remain constants, advice on the former to the latter veers with the winds of social, philosophical and psychological change," Hardyment writes. "There is no such thing as a generally applicable blueprint for perfect parenting."

Take, for instance, the idea that babies need to feed on a particular schedule. According to Hardyment's research, that advice first appears in a London hospital pamphlet in 1748. Sleep schedules for babies start coming into fashion in the early 1900s. And sleep training? That idea was proposed by a British surgeon-turned-sports writer in 1873. If babies "are left to go to sleep in their cots, and allowed to find out that they do not get their way by crying, they at once become reconciled, and after a short time will go to bed even more readily in the cot than on the lap," John Henry Walsh wrote in his Manual of Domestic Economy.

Even the heated debate about breastfeeding has been simmering, and flaring up, for at least 250 years, Hardyment shows. In the 18th century, mothers didn't have high-tech formula but had many recommendations about what was best for the baby and the family. Should a mother send the baby off to a wet nurse's home, so her husband won't be offended by the sight of a baby suckling? And if the family couldn't afford a wet nurse, there was specially treated cow's milk available or even better, the baby could be nursed by a goat, 18th-century parenting books advised. (If you're wondering how moms accomplished such a feat, Hardyment includes an 18th-century drawing of a young mom pushing a swaddled newborn underneath a goat's udder.)

Goat udders aside, perhaps the bigger issue with parenting books and advice on the Web is what they aren't telling you. And boy, is there a large hole.

These sources ignore most of the world and come almost entirely from the experience of Western culture. But when it comes to understanding what a baby needs, how kids work and what to do when your toddler is lying on the sidewalk (just asking for a friend), Western society might not be the best place to focus.

"WEIRD," stressed-out parents equal anxious kids?

In 2010, three scientists at the University of British Columbia, Vancouver, rocked the psychology world.

They published a 23-page paper titled "The weirdest people in the world?" And in it, uncovered a major limitation with many psychological studies, especially those claiming to address questions of "human nature."

First, the team noted that the vast majority of studies in psychology, cognitive science and economics — about 96 percent — have been performed on people with European backgrounds. And yet, when scientists perform some of these experiments in other cultures the results often don't match up. Westerners stick out as outliers on the spectrum of behavior, while people from indigenous cultures tend to clump together, more in the middle.

Even in experiments that appear to test basic brain function, like visual perception, Westerners can act strangely. Take one of the most famous optical illusions — the Muller-Lyer illusion, from 1889.

The Müller-Lyer illusion, devised in 1889.

Americans often believe the second line is about 20 percent longer than the first, even though the two lines are exactly the same length. But when scientists gave the test to 14 indigenous cultures, none of them were tricked to the same degree as Westerners. Some cultures, such as the San foragers in southern Africa's Kalahari desert, knew the two lines were equal length.

The conclusion from these analyses was startling: People from Western society, "including young children, are among the least representative populations one could find for generalizing about humans," Joseph Heinrich and his colleagues wrote. The researchers even came up with a catchy acronym to describe the phenomenon. They called our culture WEIRD, for Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich and Democratic societies.

With that paper, the ethnocentric view of psychology cracked. It wasn't so much that the emperor of psychology had no clothes. It was more that he was dancing around in Western garb pretending to represent all humanity.

A few years later, an anthropologist from Utah State University, David Lancy, performed a similar analysis on parenting. The conclusion was just as clear-cut: When you look around the world and throughout human history, the Western style of parenting is WEIRD. We are outliers.

In many instances, what we think is "necessary" or "critical" for childhood is actually not present in any other cultures around the world or throughout time.

"The list of differences is really, really long," says David Lancy, who summarizes them in the second edition of his landmark book The Anthropology of Childhood: Cherubs, Chattel, Changelings. "There may be 40 to 50 things that we do that you don't see in indigenous cultures."

Perhaps most striking is how Western society segregates children from adults. We have created two worlds: the kid world and the adult world. And we go through great pains to keep them apart. Kids have their own special foods, their own times to go to sleep, their own activities on the weekends. Kids go to school. Parents go to work. "Much of the adult culture ... is restricted [for kids]," Lancy writes. "Children are perceived as too young, uneducated, or burdensome to be readily admitted to the adult sphere."

But in many indigenous cultures, children are immersed in the adult world early on, and they acquire great skills from the experience. They learn to socialize, to do household chores, cook food and master a family's business, Lancy writes.

Western culture is also a relative newcomer to parenting. Hunter-gatherers and other indigenous cultures have had tens of thousands of years to hone their strategies, not to mention that the parent-child relationship actually evolved in these contexts.

Of course, just because a practice is ancient, "natural" or universal doesn't mean it's necessarily better, especially given that Western kids eventually have to live — and hopefully succeed — in a WEIRD society. But widening the parenting lens, even just a smidgen, has a practical purpose: It gives parents options.

"When you look at the whole world and see the diversity out there, parents can start to imagine other ways of doing things," says Suzanne Gaskins, a developmental psychologist at Northeastern Illinois University, who for 40 years has been studying how Maya moms in the Yucatan raise helpful kids.

"Some of the approaches families use in other cultures might fit an American child's needs better than the advice they are given in books or from the pediatricians," she adds.

Who's in charge?

So what kind of different philosophies are out there?

When I spent time with Maya families that Gaskins has studied, I saw a very different approach to control.

In Western culture, parenting is often about control.

"We think of obedience from a control angle. Somebody is in charge and the other one is doing what they are told because they have to," says Barbara Rogoff, a psychologist at the University of California, Santa Cruz, who has studied the Maya culture for 30 years.

Gelmy, one of the five kids in Maria de los Angeles Tun Burgosa's family, rakes the backyard of their home in Yucatan, Mexico.

And if you pay attention to the way parents interact with children in our society, the idea is blazingly obvious. We tend to boss them around. "Put your shoes on!" or "Eat your sandwich!"

"People think either the adult is in control or the child is in control," Rogoff says.

But what if there is another way to interact with kids that removes control from the equation, almost altogether?

That's exactly what the Mayas — and several other indigenous cultures — do. Instead of trying to control children, Rogoff says, parents aim to collaborate with them.

"It's kids and adults together accomplishing a common goal," Rogoff says. "It's not letting the kids do whatever they want. It's a matter of children — and parents — being willing to be guided."

In the Maya culture, even the littlest of children are treated with this respect. "It's collaborative from the get-go."

The idea is so strong that some Mayan languages don't even have a word for "control" when talking about children, Rogoff says.

After visiting the Maya village this spring, I've been trying this approach with my 2 1/2-year-old daughter. For instance, I often struggle to get Rosemary to put her clothes on the morning. In the past, I would nag and yell: "Put your shoes on! Get your jacket!"

But now I try a more collaborative approach. "Rosemary, mom, dad and Mango [our dog] are all going to the beach," I explain. "If you want to go to the beach, you have to put your shoes on. Do you want to go to the beach?" So far it's working.

And if Rosemary says she doesn't want to go to the beach? What would a Maya mom do? She would drop her off at an aunt's or neighbor's house and spend an afternoon without her. Because Maya families also have a different idea about who is supposed to care for the kids. One way to think of it: They don't keep mom in a box.

Get mom out of the box

In our culture there's a lingering belief that the ideal family structure for kids is a stay-at-home mom who devotes her full attention to the kids. That may sound like a relic from the past. But even just 10 years ago, 41 percent of people thought moms working outside was harmful to society, PEW research found. The result is a mom stuck in an apartment or a single-family home — which are both essentially boxes — raising children, alone.

But if you look around the world and throughout human history, this parenting approach is arguably one of the most nontraditional out there. The notion that the mom is responsible for raising the children, alone, is even strange within Western culture. Up until about 150 years ago, households were much larger and included extended family members and sometimes paid help, historian Stephanie Coontz documents in The Way We Never Were. And women were expected to earn some income for the family. "Women not only brought home half the bacon, they often raised and butchered the pig," Coontz says.

Anthropologist David Lancy compares the "mom in the box" approach to parenting to what happens with an Inuit family in the Arctic, when inclement weather isolates a mom and her child in an igloo and forces the mom to be the only playmate for the children. Most of the burden of parenting is placed on the mom. "There is every reason to believe that modern living conditions in which infants and toddlers are isolated from peers in single-parent or nuclear households produce a parallel effect," Lancy writes: a mom left to a perform a role typically performed by children — that is, siblings, cousins, neighborhood kids and whoever else is hanging around a home.

Human children didn't evolve in a nuclear family. Instead, for hundreds of thousands of years, kids have been brought up with a slew of people — grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings, the neighbors, Lancy writes. It's not that you need a whole village, as the saying goes, but rather an extended family — which could include biological relatives but also neighbors, close friends or paid help.

Throughout human history, motherhood has been seen as a set of tasks that can be accomplished by many types of people, like relatives and neighbors, the historian John R. Gillis writes in The World Of Their Own Making. Anthropologists call them "alloparents" — "allo" simply means "other."

Across the globe, cultures consider alloparents key to raising children, Lancy writes.

The Maya moms value and embrace alloparents. Their homes are porous structures and all sorts of "allomoms" flow in and out. When a woman has a baby, other moms work together to make sure she can take a break each day to take a shower and eat meals, without having to hold the baby. (How civilized is that!)

In one household with four kids that I visited, the aunt dropped off food, the grandma stopped by to help with a neighbor's baby and, all the while, the oldest daughter looked after the toddler — while the mom fed the livestock and started to make lunch. But in Western culture, over the past few centuries, we have pushed alloparents to the periphery of the parenting landscape, Gillis writes. They aren't as valued and sometimes even denigrated as a means for working moms to outsource parenting duties.

In the past few generations, fathers have stepped up and started helping with a big chunk of parenting duties. Since 1965, American dads have more than doubled the number of hours they spend each week on child care, PEW research found. But moms still carry most of the load. They spend, on average, 14 hours each week on child care while fathers spend about 7.

The result is something unique in human history: A mom stuck in a box, often alone, doing the job typically performed by a handful of people. As Gillis writes, "Never have mothers been so burdened by motherhood."

[ol-razzle-dazazzle]

Rattus Rattus- Chapter 3: Guinea Pig Nibbling

Finally! I only have two exams left, so I should be updating more consistently, maybe after my History exam on Monday, I’ll write a Halloween special? I’d like that. Either way, here we finally have Pushkin! Hopefully I’ve added more to his character to make him somewhat likeable (He got cheated out of canon real bad let’s be real...) Thank you for your continued support!

Trigger Warnings for this chapter: 

-Implied disordered eating (this is loosely based off irl Nikolai’s experiences of abuse- so the nature of said disorder will be somewhat expanded on during their school arc- however will not be romanticised and will have a respectful portrayal as I can try) 

"Whatcha doing here?" The voice comes from the ceiling, as a pair of eyes and curly orange hair peer over him.

"I just transferred here."

The other boy clamours down, and Fyodor notices he has chubby cheeks and a solid build. "Pushkin. Alexander Pushkin."

"Okay."

"…I really thought you'd react more. That's like, the whole cool thing about those violent movies- the stoic villain, calm and cool as he loads his gun and pow…or something like that."

"Why are the pillows a mess?" He glances at the pile, in the corner of the wall.

"I'm testing my aim. Y'see, I've always had perfect accuracy for these things- I wanna be a marksman or something." He tugs on his hoodie strings proudly, "I'll have you know I hold the school's record for most vases shattered- marbles, paperclips, waterguns."

"So this is why you're in the worst room?" Fyodor grabs the pillows, setting them neatly on the bottom bunk.

"Ack- well, the room isn't that bad, I just keep a lotta stuff. Gum, paper clips, straws- you name it. Hope that won't be a problem?"

"As long as I have my own maintained space of cleanliness, it won't have to be."  Fyodor shrugs.

"Fair enough, fair enough. I'm a senior here- so I'll get more space, 'course."

"A senior? Kolya and I are-"

"Wait- Gogol himself?!" Pushkin's eyes open wider, "Wait, you're 'rat boy'."

"…Is the name…really necessary?" How strange…the events of today already spread.

"Oh shit, that was a riot! I have to hand it to you two, you got caught by a tough customer. Usually you can spout something self-righteous and 'self-improvement'-ish and most of them will leave you alone." Pushkin chuckles, "Don't worry, it'll blow over, kehehehe."

"What an odd laugh."

"Look, a good villain needs a good laugh, okay? Some people have morning rites, some people practise their evil laughter…" He hums in thought, "I bet Gogol's the kinda kid that does. Go on, rat. Try it, kehehehe."

"As much as I love mice, I'd prefer a better name."

"You haven't told me your name yet though."

"Fyodor."

"Okay, Fyodor- give me your evil laughter."

Fyodor takes a breath. Hm, well, it's an easy enough way to gain favour with a potential ally.

"…Ha ha ha ha ha."

"Uh…"

"Haha…ha ha ha…"

"Fyodor…"

"…Ha ha."

"…" Pushkin scratches his cheek, "Well…the good thing is that you'll make me look good."

"That's rather cruel."

"Kehehehehe!" He snickers, offering a high five. "See? Nailed it."

"Kol- Nikolai is a much better comedian."

Pushkin makes an overdramatic pained noise, "Keheheh, well I won't try to mess things up between you two. You and Gogol, that is."

"Now why would you do that?" Fyodor has an inkling Pushkin wouldn't do that kind of thing, but he's certainly...something. Wait, him and Gogol don't have a 'thing' in the first place- they literally just met.

"Hmph, I don't know." Pushkin shrugs, "People around me always get real pissed."

Perhaps it's because of his fouler language, "At you?"

"Nah, nah." He waves a hand dismissively, "I've always been a real terrible mediator. I try get in between two people fighting and they want to fight even more!"

"Maybe you're just antagonising."

"Don't be so rude. I coulda deceived you and said I hid the bodies of the other two that were in this room, but I didn't." He folds his arms, "You're lucky it's just us two, if it was one more, you'd be stuffed- you're a pretty scrawny kid."

"So...the other two people fought here? With no provocation?"

"Eh well...okay- maybe as a little prank- I spitballed them and made it look like the other person did it." At Fyodor's raised eyebrow he moved his hands quickly, "But even when I admitted it, something I rarely do, mind- they were fucking breaking bones and shit!"

Fyodor flinches a little, "Must be some bad luck."

"Yeah, so they're in the hospital and they both got expelled- not my fault. I might look stocky but I'm not that great at punching."

"You could probably throw me." Fyodor mumbles, "For the record, that is not encouraging you to."

"Heh, I probably could. Maybe I will…" He shakes his head, "Nah- the greatest pleasure taken is watching the big people fall down. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, the more I cackle."

"I am starting to rethink your innocence…" Fyodor turns to the door.

"Hey, hey, hey! Come on." He cackles, "You're an interesting one, Fyodor. Gogol too, I think I'll keep an eye out for you two, as a good ol' senior."

"How kind of you, but I have no intention of owing anyone anything." Fyodor reaches into his pockets, getting some of the lemon drops for potential bribery. "Also, sadly- there will be someone else taking residence in the room."

"As long as I get the top bunk I'm fine with it, I ain't the one getting hurt."

"No, you see…" Now here is an interesting test to see if Pushkin is to be trusted. "I have a pet." He picks up the rat.

"Oh my god- you are Rat Boy." Pushkin snickers.

"His name is Myskin."

"Wow, real creative. That's like naming a kid 'humanie'."

"I'll keep quiet on any of your wrongdoings, and provide alibis for you as need be, you keep quiet and protect him." Fyodor tosses some lemon drops on the table, "To sweeten the deal."

"These are the sherbet-filled ones…very nice, very nice." Pushkin pops one in his mouth, "Alright, alright. Pleasure doing business- I'll give you the bottom bunk and the table, I'll get the other half and the top bunk for miscellaneous supplies."

"Miscellaneous supplies?"

"Jeez, I'm in my first year of high school- I'm not carrying drugs. Just don't fucking touch it."

"Okay, I wasn't trying to attack you for it." Fyodor shrugs, flopping on the bed. "No need to be so abrasive."

"…Ugh- yeah, pardon." He rubs the back of his neck, "I can't yell my head off- you say damn and everyone freaks out, so things kinda slip out. Wait, why the hell am I apologising?" He groans, messing his hair a bit, "You're a sucky roommate."

"I wouldn't really know."

"Fine…" He fiddles with his hoodie pocket, cursing a little as there's a soft beep. "I gotta go- get insulin and crap- feeling woozy, thanks for the drops." He opens the door, and Fyodor can just barely hear a, "Kehehe, Rat Boy."

Fyodor takes the time to sigh, and of course- check the top bunk to look at what Pushkin has. Insulin monitors, batteries, jelly beans, a multi-tool, 'Volume 3 of Tragic Duels of the 1800's' and a teddy bear. After inspecting these items and putting them back, Fyodor didn't particularly notice anything out of the ordinary, or rather- anything he wouldn't already expect.

He curls up, popping the candy in his mouth and waiting for the sugar to spill through as he stared up at the bed frame. Pushkin seems fickle, but Nikolai's moreso unflappable. He ponders for a moment if him and Nikolai could ever fight. It's entertaining to consider Nikolai covered in someone else's blood, but the idea of him getting hurt or the boy swinging a punch that doesn't magically warp into a hug is strange.

A hug? He tries to recall the feeling a little.

He doesn't have any particular attachment to his family. In a way, everything feels new and so much to take in. So many different kinds of air and noises too.

Ah- there's the sugar, it's a lot different from pills. The only thing worse than having to do math is having pills that are semi-dissolved in one's mouth.

He thinks back to the thought of Nikolai hugging him. He's definitely a hugger- though no such evidence has been presented, it's absolutely certain. Apparently, it's precisely seven seconds for a hug to have it's chemical effects- it's a shame it isn't a multiple of three. Would the effect be stacked if a hug continues or must it be repeated every seven seconds?

He reaches over to grab Myskin as his lab rat. 1…2…6…7. It's kind of nice. 8…27…53…Myskin squeaks softly…441…777…1563…

Wait shit. That was 26 minutes. He glances at the clock on the wall and he has 7 minutes to get there- one of which was most likely wasted on reading the analogue clock. Another which is wasted in not wanting to get up. He nestles Myskin in his bag, on his free day he'll have to get a cage…Rats need big cages though…What if he gets lonely? What if he needs a friend? What if he psychologically has a breakdown, gains a Napoleon complex and opposable thumbs and can hold an axe and ends up murdering one of the teachers?

And now he has 2 minutes.

That would be a very tiny axe though.

He puts on a jacket to hide the fact that he hasn't gotten changed out of his uniform, and...wait, where was the dining hall again?

And after circling his dorm approximately 2.521 times, he found it, smiling sheepishly at the stare of the teacher.

"Fedya!!! Fedya!!!" There were two arms frantically waving in one of the corner tables, of course belonging to Nikolai.

"You can yell quieter, you don't have to draw so much attention." Fyodor smiles a little, taking the seat next to...no, that's too much- the seat opposite Nikolai.

"But then what's the point? The purpose is to garner your attention." Nikolai shrugs, "Did you get settled?"

Fyodor thinks back to the 27 minutes spent hugging his rat instead of setting up his room. "...Somewhat."

"Oi, seat's taken?" Pushkin slides in next to Nikolai, and Fyodor internally curses that he should've done so earlier.

"Not until a second ago, who're you?"

"We're dorm mates..." Fyodor shrugs, "Actually, wouldn't you have other people to sit with?"

"Eh, not really..." Pushkin shrugs, "Constantly skip class, being the one left in between brawls…"

"Hm?" Nikolai tilts his head, "Isn't there policies against that?"

"Gogol, Gogol." Pushkin smiles a little, "Look at me."

"I am looking at you." Nikolai nods, "…?"

"Pushkin."

"Yes, I am still looking at you." "Am I really the kind of person that cares about that kinda thing?"

"No, not particularly- you seem like the kinda person that puts chewing gum under tables."

"Are you serious? That's what you think of me? I'm cut, Gogol." Pushkin huffs, "I have standards- I put them in the bin."

"Oh, the food's ready. I think it's schi." Fyodor mumbles, putting his hands over his ears a little- thankful they got a side table.

"Alright, I'm going up." Pushkin moves, "You guys want me to swipe some extra bread?"

"No, I think I'll wait." Fyodor waves a hand dismissively.

"Ah- I'm not that hungry." Nikolai mumbles.

Pushkin shrugs, moving to join the queue.

"You sure?" Fyodor turns to Nikolai, "I know cabbage isn't the greatest thing in the world, but you didn't have anything for lunch."

"Ah- I had some while I was in my dorm room."

"More communion wafers, or bread?"

Nikolai laughs, "Bread, bread. I had a sandwich, some water." He's looking away a little, or maybe it's just because of his eye.

Fyodor mulls over the sentence, "Do you have a lot of carrots?" Fyodor points to his own left eye. "I mean, not to be insensitive or anything."

"No, no- it's fine." Nikolai smiles, "It's not really that- I just kinda have…what's it called? Cataracts?"

"Oh, so your lens is clouded."

"Yeah- but I'm gonna get surgery for it later, probably after I graduate- it's apparently pretty easy."

"Ah I se-" Fyodor coughs, "I get it."

"It's no big deal- it's fine- but it does help when I glare at people, with an 'evil eye'."

"That's great and all- but I don't think I can imagine you actively glaring at people."

Nikolai puffs his chest out, "Well, that's because I'm hiding my true powers!"

"…You have powers, you remember that right?" Fyodor deadpans.

"…Oh." Nikolai pouts, "Dammit. Forgot about that."

"You guys gonna get food or what?" Pushkin sits down.

"Yeah, I think I will." Fyodor stands up, "You want to join me?"

Nikolai glances at Pushkin raising an eyebrow, "Sure."

The two get up, moving along the line, "You okay with the noise? You keep blocking your ears…"

"Ah- well, it's fine, I'm just not used to it…"

"Hm..." Nikolai hums in thought, "Maybe you should get some headphones or something to muffle it…"

"That would look ridiculous though, constantly walking around like that."

"Well- it's an idea!" Nikolai moves along the queue, skipping the soup- getting some salad.

"You hate cabbage?"

"I prefer borscht." Nikolai shrugs, averting his eyes away from the table of staff in front of him. Fyodor swears one of them was staring at them, but…considering the fiasco during the day- that's to be expected, right?

Still, there was something odd- as Pushkin tried to push Nikolai to eat some bread as the other poked around in his salad, trying to talk to Fyodor about the classes they had to avoid Pushkin's scolding.

"Honestly…I'm just trying to look out for him."

"If he doesn't want it, we shouldn't push him."

Pushkin groans, "Heh, well at least I sneaked it into his jacket pocket- he's gonna wake up in the middle of the night, stomach grumbling- and reach into his pocket and 'wow! That Pushkin is a real nice guy, ain't he?' Kehehehe…"

"I suppose." That's useful- he's a sneak, but somewhat okay. A decent enough ally.

"I'm gonna go back to the dorm- the rat isn't gonna bother anything, right?"

Fyodor shakes his head, "No- I put him in a container I put holes in…It's not good- but it'll do until I get a cage on the free day."

"Alright." Pushkin shrugs, leaving Fyodor to walk around the place, peering in to notice

Nikolai washing up.

"You need some help?" Fyodor picks up some plates, struggling at the weight, before putting them on the sink.

"Oh…sure. You can dry them off." Nikolai gives him a towel. "I didn't really know what else to do, so I thought I'd help out…I guess."

Fyodor nods, drying the plates and cutlery. Nikolai's shirt sleeves are rolled up, and he notices the litheness of his arms.

"Fedya? You stopped." The words stir him, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine…" He turns his gaze back to the task at hand.

"Also, could you throw the bread in my jacket back?" Nikolai says, "I noticed Pushkin putting it in, but I didn't want to be rude."

"Ah, so you did." Fyodor shrugs, putting a hand in the other's jacket, grabbing the bread and- his hand feels plastic brushing against it.

"Just drop it."

Fyodor relinquishes his grip, as the garbage bin moves softly.

"I could've walked, you know- you didn't have to use your ability."

"I wanted to see if you would freak out over it."

They continue washing and drying, until the work thins. "Do you think there's other people with abilities?"

"Probably." Nikolai shrugs, "I'd like to think if you had one- it'd be kinda quiet, nothing flashy, something silent- but powerful."

"You think so?" Fyodor stifles a laugh, "I wouldn't call myself 'powerful'."

"Why not?" Nikolai smiles, "Okay, let's practise- carry as many bowls as you can into the cupboards."

Fyodor was heaving with four, Nikolai was effortlessly moving them ten at a time.

"You're using your ability, that's not fair." Fyodor pouts, "Anyone can lift something heavy for but a millisecond."

"Hmph, fine. I'll take seven, I bet!" Nikolai carrys them, resting his chin on the rims of the bowl, as his thin arms shake a little. "Al…most…-"

"You really shouldn't push your-" But Nikolai had already feel, the ceramic bowls going through his coat to clatter loudly against the counter.

"What's going on over there?" A teacher walks over, the same one that had issued them detention.

"We didn't have much homework, so we wanted to help clean up." Fyodor murmurs, "I was carrying too many plates and made Nikolai trip accidentally, is all."

"…" She scrunches her face, "Well, I appreciate your initiative to help, but I would rather you run along back to your rooms. Curfew will be approaching soon."

"Of course." Fyodor nods, helping Nikolai up. "Are you okay?"

Nikolai brushes himself off, "Yeah- it's weird, I should be fine with carrying that."

"It doesn't matter- but I think we've had enough cleaning up for today." Fyodor shrugs. "You won't trip on the way to your room, right?"

"Oh, come on- I'll be fine. Probably."

"Hmph, fine." They stand there, for a while. Are…they supposed to hug goodbye? Is that what friends do? He didn't do it with Pushkin. It felt nice with Myskin, it would be better with Nikolai, right? "Um…goodnight, Kolya."

Dammit. Maybe another night.

"Goodnight Fedya."