#they’ll eat all your carrots

[sneaky-eel]

I don’t think they want the carrots Desmond

[turtlesandfrogs]

I made this Pre-pandemic for a "Starting plants from the grocery store" class I was teaching, here it is edited down for anyone interested.

For saving seeds, the fruit should be fully mature for the seeds to be fully mature. Therefore, you can use seeds from a winter squash but not a baby zucchini, and the likelihood that the seeds of a tomato (or red bell pepper) will grow are much higher than for a green bell pepper. Unfortunately, many are either going to be poorly suited for your conditions, or hybrid, which we'll touch on later.

Stem cuttings are a great way to start many common culinary herbs! Especially basil!

Some tubers to consider starting from are sweet potatoes and actual potatoes.

And then of course, the bulbs! Green onions and garlic are your best bets!

These are outdoor plants and thus are Somewhat Fussy if you're going to grow indoors. Do not overwater them (eg, letting them sit in a tray of water for days) nor let them dry out completely. Try to keep them evenly moist, with thorough waterings that then pour out the bottom of the pot unimpeded. 

Given that they are outdoor plants, a south-facing window (assuming you’re in the northern hemisphere) or grow lights are your best bet. If they don’t get enough light, they will turn pale and stretch towards their light source. They won’t grow as quickly or as healthfully as they would with sufficient light.  

Examples:

Tomatoes & peppers! Tomatoes are the one that actually inspired me to make this because I saw this clip on starting plants from kitchen scraps, and they buried the whole dang half of a tomato! Don’t do that! What a waste of a tomato half! EAT your tomato! Take the seeds out! 

If you’re intending to grow these outdoors, start them about 6 weeks before your last frost. If you have not grown plants from seed before, here’s some information from another class I taught: https://tinyurl.com/seedstarting2020

If you’re intending to grow them indoors the whole time, you will likely need grow lights for both tomatoes and peppers, and they like it if you keep your house on the warm side. I would suggest growing them outdoors and buying seeds for a dwarf tomato if you really want to grow indoors.

The down side is that most are hybrid, so when you grow out the seed, it's not necessarily going to grow well, be productive, or taste good. Even if it is open pollinated, it's probably been bred to thrive in conditions unlike those you can provide. If you need a successful crop, I highly suggest buying seed, or swapping with a reputable source. Although if you like and can find yellow pear tomatoes, those are an exception to this entire paragraph.

Basil! Basil is a great one to do stem cuttings of, get it started indoors, and then plant out once night time temperatures stay above 50f (10c). I prefer to start them straight into soil, and seem to have a higher success rate this way. To do this, remove all leaves except the top bud, and bury the stem in soil up to just beneath that bud and firm gently. Keep the soil moist and the pot above 60f, and you should have a good success rate. This method works for mint, lemon balm, rosemary, sage, etc, as well.

Green onions- really easy, put the bottom inch or so in soil and they’ll grow very well for you. I prefer soil over water because a) the water gets stinky, and b) they grow better and stronger in soil.

AND MORE:

Sage, rosemary, and thyme (also any stemmed herb): just like basil

Lettuce, carrots, beets: you get the tops, but usually they’ll try to bolt. Easier just to buy seeds. If you want, I usually start in shallow water and then plant as soon as I see roots growing. Again, keep the soil moist, and for these ones, keep them in a cooler part of your house. But really, they almost always bolt in my experience.

Sweet potatoes: Get them in the fall, it takes months for them to start growing (unless you're somewhere warm apparently? ). They will sprout, grow roots, take slips to plant outdoors once night time temperatures study above 50f (10c)

Garlic, just grab a clove and plant in the fall. Boom. GARLIC.

Squash- you don’t know what you’ll get, because they might be cross pollinated with another variety or hybrids. If you do grow it out and it’s bitter, don’t eat it, it’s poisonous. If you want to know more, search “toxic squash syndrome”

Ginger: Plant the rhizome in summer, harvest before frost, or overwinter indoors with a lot of light.

Pineapple: Doable, but it takes three years to get a harvest. Plant in well draining soil, and give it as much heat and light as you can.

Just for fun: (Unless you’re in the tropics or have a lot of patience.)

Mango, avocado, citrus. Take years, and a different climate than I have to fruit. If you’re in the tropics, go for it, but know that avocado pollination can apparently be tricky. I am not in the tropics, so I do not have direct experience with this. Citrus I think I've read also don't come true from seed.

Apples, pears: take years, and don’t come true to type. You do not know what you’ll get, and you’ll probably get something that is not worth eating (but would work for cider). These do need a cold dormancy period in the winter to do well. Of course, you could plant them and then top graft if it does turn out they don’t taste good.

Plums, peaches, apricots: take years, often do come true from seed, but peaches and nectarines are very susceptible to peach leaf curl, so may just die depending on where you are.

[spacetotbby]

SFW ONLY

POV LITTLE

You’ve been finding it rather difficult with your regression recently, wishing to be smaller, not just mentally but physically. So you’re able to do more things meant for your smaller side, like fit into more child clothing, or fit in safer rolls coasters made for young toddlers.

Your cg has magick, they’re a very powerful being and you run up to them with a small look in your eyes, you give them your best puppy dog eyes and gently and softly ask “(cg title) can make me smaller? Can me tiny? So you can pick me up n n carry me?”

They chuckle “And what age would you like to be my little munchkin?”

Your eyes gleam with joy, it’s the first time you’ve asked them to sue their magic on you, however they assumed one day you would ask and they’re more than happy to do so.

You hold your fingers up giggling “4” you show them. And within minutes you’re the size of a four year old, your clothes extremely large on you, your cg chuckles and picks you up.

“Common sweet pea I’ve got some clothes that’ll fit you in your little drawers.” You just giggle now in the mind set as your little self.

Your carer helps you into the most cutest outfit of your favourite animal. You’re the cutest little being ever.

“Now (cg title) has a question, is my little munchkin hungry?” They know it’s near lunch time. You nod.

After a few minutes getting to the kitchen they magick up a high chair for you to sit in, they also to keep you occupied while making lunch for you both let you play with one of your favourite toys, you have your favourite paci but it’s smaller magic was used to duplicate it in a smaller version for you.

Your carer makes all your favourites, a small Nutella sandwich, cut into little squares (one half your carer will eat the other half.) some cut up fruits a few strawberries and grapes, a small yogurt and some carrots. You pull your nose up at the carrots.

“Awe common my baby you love them plus they’ll help you see in the dark.” They giggle you love carrots but just not wanting them today, they see this and ruffle your hair “okay my sweet one (cg title) will eat them for you mhm?” You nod happily.

They get your favourite smoothie apple and banana into your favourite little bottle.

After lunch, your career helps you to your small room they’ve gotten the sweetest little set up for your little self for a nap with plenty space for them too, they read you, your favourite bedtime story and you slowly begin to fall asleep. They begin to hum soothing you when the book is done.

You’re content, you’re happy. You’re small, you’re small.

[entropic-saudade]

For @wellofdean (we interacted on your post on my main, but I had most of this in my drafts on this account).

Re: My disjointed, hastily verbalized thoughts on The American Dream as queered (and unqueered?) by Supernatural

The thing about Supernatural is that the thing that keeps the boys from being unable to reach The American Dream (a house, a successful job, a nuclear family) is that compared to the systemic issues (and the fact that it’s all a dangling carrot of a construct anyway) that keep most people from reaching it, what prevents them is the fact that monsters exist—at least, this is a premise as outlined by Pilot. These are two white, handsome, (debatably) cis, (arguably not) heterosexual men, and it should be something that should come as easy to them as others presume it should (See: Wishful Thinking). But a demon burned Mom on the ceiling, and then Jess, so that world is not for them.

But then the show does some interesting things.

They align supernatural beings with corporations (Hell and Crowley, Zachariah and Heaven), in S7 they use Leviathan as the literal embodiment of Thomas Hobbes’ defense of capitalism Leviathan, the all-intrinsic, insidious, corporate greed of corporate America. Even a lot of minor monsters who don’t get half-season or whole-season face times face the same underlying issues that hunters and other Americans (and people in general) face: they just want to survive. They want to keep food on the table. It’s eat or be eaten. Often, especially in later seasons (most notably in S15), we see glimpses of monsters living in dumps for houses just living relatively normal lives before the boys come in and kill them. To the monster, society at large and the hunter is what keeps them from their Dream of family and home and stability.

Monsters like Garth, Benny, etc, have to either be reformed or cooperative with humans, or else they face death. (I want to write on Benny and Garth later bc they’re SO fucking interesting, even among the monster archetypes).

Then, consider the fact that, yeah, monsters exist, but they’re just a decoy/byproduct of the fact that there IS an overarching systemic force that keeps them from ever exerting true free will, (note Hobbes’ social contract says we sacrifice a little bit of will in exchange for safety, that’s the condition of society; the safety here being so long as the boys follow Chuck’s stories they’ll forever be reincarnated into the rat race; if they want real free will they’ll no longer be safe from permanent death): God.

So the show in Pilot establishes that the American Dream apple pie life isn’t for them. Sam wants it, but he feels like a freak no matter where he goes. Dean claims he doesn’t want it, but you brush past his layers and you see how deeply he just wants a family and home (which John says he wants for him too, despite being the major force keeping him from it. Of course even without John, the other forces above kick in, because the system keeping them from it is God—John as an absent god figure represents that from the get go). They talk about the “apple pie life” with fluctuating tones of want and disdain throughout the show depending on their circumstances, but any time they get close to tasting it (Sam’s time at Stanford, Dean’s djinn dream in What Is and What Should Never Be, Dean’s time with Lisa, Sam’s time with Amelia—notably those examples stop after the boys get the Bunker, which I have more meta about I’ll RB & tag later, because it’s the closest thing to a home the show allows them to have), it gets poisoned by their past and snatched away by their path to the future.

Which makes the themes of “family don’t end (or begin) in blood” so important. (Though… consider also that most of their found family dies or isn’t shown by the end).

The way they get their American dream— a home (the bunker), a job (hunting, legacies, a hacked credit card), a family (all their found family, including Jack and Cas) is unconventional. In Lebanon, when John “I want this to be over, I want Sam to go to school, I want Dean to have a home” Winchester tells Dean he wanted him to have a home and family, Dean fully accepts and verbalizes that this is the best the life is going to give them. And that’s beautiful, and they’ll do anything to protect that. They make their little found families repeatedly: Ash, who burns down with the Road House; Jo and Cas and Ellen and Bobby, their family photo burned after Jo and Ellen die in AHBL. Every version of family they get is torn apart but they don’t stop, to the point that God literally has to take away everyone- and they still don’t stop fighting.

There’s smaller ‘jokes’ throughout— Dean never getting pie (never getting the apple pie life), Mary’s pie being storebought instead of homemade as representative of the fact that her home life wasn’t “real”— it was borrowed time. Even the pie in finale, is horridly, literally, delivered as a pie in the face. A joke. The apple pie life Sam got in the end isn’t necessarily even because he wants it anymore (Sam tells Dean such throughout, though he’s a little harder to read), but because Dean wanted it for him. The life Dean got in the end was in death.

Going back to Kripke and The Hero’s Journey as presented in his era of S1-5, the ending really subverted the ideas from Pilot. Dean got the apple pie life (and suffered), Sam did the furthest thing possible from normal and TOOK BACK POSSESSION FROM LUCIFER TO JUMP INTO A CAGE HE KNEW HE’D BE LOCKED IN FOREVER to save the world.

Then you get Gamble doing some interesting things with Leviathan/monster as Capitalist force, literally bringing the Campbell in Joseph Campbell back with Mary’s extended family— notably, Sam only fits in among them at the time because he Wasn’t Sam, and Dean feels like an outsider both in Lisa’s home (on the surface he keeps it together, but the life holds on), and among them even when he is hunting. They make fun of him for the traces of the American Dream apple pie life (golf clubs, magazines… even things he can’t control, like the ‘delicate features’ he gets from his mother, who waged a normal life so badly she made a deal with a demon while he inhabited her father’s body—the force that kept her from a normal life. More later on Mary and how she’s revealed to not be able to stop hunting regardless). The Campbells get killed off, and we get Mary in the form of Eve, Mother of All, who likewise is trying to protect her children. Is soulless Sam’s return in Exile on Mainstreet a “call to adventure”, presented as more of the inevitable same from Pilot— one so close that it’s Dean’s fear, that Azazel is back and will continue the cycle with Lisa and Ben? Ultimately, it’s not Azazel, but other demons and the existence of monsters, those pre-existing systemic family forces that keep Dean from his supposed idealized version of a normal life.

Carver’s era does some interesting things with Amelia (whose flashback scenes are so brightly lit they bring to mind the false cheery lighting of Dean’s djinn dream in What Is and What Should Never Be, of the false light lighting in It’s a Terrible Life— to the point that some have theorized the whole thing was a cope hallucination by Sam), with Benny (who I have meta written about elsewhere I need to post on here— but Benny is one of the most self aware, narratively echoed characters who aligns himself with every member of Team Free Will in just a few episodes. The notable/relevant thing here is that like Sam, Benny the blood drinker is a freak among freaks, feeling like he doesn’t fit in anywhere, has no home, and when he tries to find it (Andrea Kormos, Elizabeth in Carencro), he can’t get it either), with even the angels being thrown from the only home they’ve ever known, with Cain and Death and Rowena and God as a broken family with Lucifer and Amara and Chuck-as-God.

And then you get Dabb’s era, bringing Mary Winchester/Campbell back, the chance to unfridge a woman and tearing all expectations about who she is down, never acknowledging her family was also resurrected at one point, the boys living as “Campbells” in Lebanon (which I loved, but the “I have a home and I have a family” gets kind of thrown away by the end), Dean’s “I have a home,” The Heroes Journey even being lampshaded in S15 with the episode with Garth (more thoughts on Garth and how that episode shows the only real American Dream on the show, and he got to keep it, doubly queered by the fact that they’re monsters who are also hunters). Dabb’s finale brought the Heroes Journey story circle back, quite literally in the sense that time is a flat circle and Sam and Dean are returned to their Pilot expectations— right down to their clothing choices in Heaven. (I know some people find that beautiful, and there is a nice symmetry to certain elements, and I understand the need to end the story that way, BUT it’s the broader story and structure and narrative and message that upsets and baffles me— it undoes Kripke’s whole “rip up the ending” bit, the subverted Hero’s Journey from S5, and combined with everything else in the show (not going to touch Heaven rn but I have Thoughts about that too), it sends the message that what meaning you create in life doesn’t matter (the found family (who we don’t see in the finale and barely gets acknowledged. SAM’s new family barely gets acknowledged, his son is a xerox of Dean and his wife is a blur in the background who doesn’t have any family photos in the home), the queered way in which they create the American dream doesn’t matter)— true happiness comes in death.)

Something something “the one thing I want is something I know I can’t have.” Cas’ confession is not only a confession to Dean but a show thesis. To me.

[buckys-little-belle]

Hi hi 👋🏼 I really love your Eddie x little!reader series! I was wondering if Steve meets little fairy too and if they’d be friends? I just feel like fairy would immediately be one of Steve’s little nuggets and he’d help with the hellfire babysitting too by maybe passing cartoon vhs tapes to Eddie and Dustin for fairy or calling Dustin at school to check on them and his other nuggets. Or if Nancy and Robin find out about their regression too? They’d be such cool aunts 🥰🥰

Hellfire Babysitting Club (Part Six)

Little Nugget

Eddie Munson x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns)/ The Hellfire Club x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns)/ (Honorary) Steve Harrington x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns)

Warnings - Reader does eat food, (Chicken nuggets, carrots and some ketchup.), slight reader being sad, for like half a second, I think that’s it!

Notes - I love this series … That’s it

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and with this blog SFW.

- - - - - -

“Are you sure they’ll like me?” Steve asked, standing next to Eddie outside of the High School, here to babysit Y/n while the club finish up the very important end of a very important campaign.

“The Little Terror love’s everyone Steve.” Eddie remarked, greeting Gareth with a smile as he arrived and went inside, meeting up with the rest of the group. “You’re fun, okay? I’m sure they will love you.” He said reassuringly, patting Steve on the back as the two of them turned to enter the school, the sun setting slowly.

“Yah, I know I’m ‘cool’” Steve scoffed. “But I don’t know, this is different!” He said, stopping in the hallway and crossing his arms, suddenly feeling self conscious about his babysitter abilities. “What if I mess up?” He asked genuinely, worried he may do something wrong in a critical moment.

Eddie laughed, running a hand through his hair and walking towards Steve. “I don’t think you realize just how much of a terror Little Terror is Steve.” Eddie’s smile radiated confidence as he spoke. “You will mess up, my first time looking after Y/n they pulled an entire baby tree out of the ground.” Eddie said, not breaking eye contact with Steve. “Just keep the away from anything dangerous and you’re already doing better than half of us.”

“You guys let Y/n around dangerous things?” Steve worriedly asked, genuinely concerned.

Eddie shrugged. “Gareth didn’t notice glass once, plants are all over the outside, the bathroom has soap, honestly with Y/n even the floor is dangerous.” Eddie began to walk towards the drama room once again, reaching the door and calling out a quick ‘Litter Terror’. Y/n hauling it out the door and into his arms. “Hey Fairy, causing any trouble?” He asked, giving Y/n a quick peck on top of their head.

“Jus’ spilled some water ‘s all.” Y/n said, looking around and eventually spotting Steve, offering a small wave.

Steve waved back, he assumed the Hellfire clubs honorary member would look the part, plaid flannels, leather, a jean jacket at least, maybe some pins of bands? Instead he was met with Y/n wearing a pair of loose jeans, and a hoodie, no shoes, just some fun coloured socks. Their outfit made them stick out like a sore thumb in the group, sure Dustin and Lucas wore more colourful clothing, jackets and things, but they still looked the part of a Hellfire member. Steve laughed, Y/n at least wasn’t as intimidating as he thought, which meant they were probably even crazier than he assumed.

“You’re gonna hang out with Steve while we play okay?” Eddie said, his hands on Y/n’s shoulders as he told them the plans. “You can show him all your toys hm?”

Y/n nodded, suddenly looking sad. “Yah b’not my bear.” They pouted, still reeling from their lost bear.

“Well maybe next time you see him you’ll have a new one.” Eddie reassured them, it had only been a day since they lost their bear, and with their hurt hand they needed a comfort toy more than ever.

Steve overheard the conversation, he had a few bears back at home from when he was kid, the bears too sentimental to get rid of, but just sitting in his closet for the time being. “Otay Steve.” Y/n said, snapping Steve out of his thoughts, holding onto his hand as they lead him to a room a few doors down. The drama club/class’s practice room, a small square room that was empty, now occupied by Y/n’s backpack and a few toys the boy’s had brought from their houses.

Steve waved ‘bye’ to Eddie, who ran into his own drama room, beginning the last leg of his campaign. “So what do you like doing?” He asked, Y/n letting go of his hand and sitting on the floor, pulling out a puzzle from their bag.

“‘m whatever I want.” They shrugged their shoulders, opening the box and beginning to sort the pieces as best as they could. “Well, not whatever I want. I can’t go outside alone.”

Steve hummed, confused as to what he was here for, Y/n seemed perfectly able to sit on their own for an hour or two.

“I feel lonely, can you sit pease?” They asked, looking at Steve with puppy dog eyes, his heart shattering at how adorable they looked.

“Yah of course, sorry.” He stuttered, sitting down opposite to them, his hands going to sort Y/n’s already sorted piles o actually be sorted the right way. He stopped suddenly. “Can I help?” He asked, wanting to make sure Y/n knew he wouldn’t cross any boundaries, he was a stranger to them after all.

“Mhm.” They hummed, their tongue sticking out slightly as they concentrated, a habit clearly picked up from Eddie. “I get the last piece though.” The murmured, Steve laughing as he nodded.

- - - - - -

And hour an a half went by, Y/n clearly not the ‘Little Terror’ Eddie insisted they were. Steve and Y/n spent the time colouring, finishing their puzzle, Y/n showed him their toys, and told them about a cat they saw on their way over. They seemed to be very calm, not at all what he had heard. Dustin claimed Y/n was super unpredictable, but Steve just didn’t see it. How was this the person who picked up glass? Or pulled an entire tree out of the ground?

He stood up, grabbing the snacks Eddie packed out of Y/n’s bag, some chicken nuggets and ketchup, as well as some carrots. “I’ll be right back okay?” He said, stepping out of the room and walking towards the loud drama room that held the Hellfire club currently. “How’s it going?” He asked the room, everyone turning towards Steve, expecting to see Y/n at his side.

“Where’s Y/n?” Dustin asked, trying to peek around Steve’s back to see if they were hiding in the hallway.

“Don’t worry, I distracted them with their snack, their fine.” Steve said confidently, slowly worrying about his decision as the groups faces dropped.

“You packed ketchup, right Eddie?” Gareth asked, turning towards the group’s leader. Eddie’s head hiding behind his hands as he subtly shook his head.

“I did, yep.” He sighed, the group following suit.

“What? It’s just ketchup?” Steve asked, confused as to why the group was being so dramatic over this little fact.

“To us.” Mike said, looking around the room.

“To Y/n ketchup could be lotion, or paint, or hair colour.” Lucas added in, looking at Steve with pure rage.

Eddie stood up. “I’ll be back in a second boys.” He sighed, walking towards the smaller room, hearing Y/n humming along to a random song in their head as he got closer. As he approached the room he expected to see red, literally red ketchup everywhere.

Instead he saw Y/n happily sitting down, eating the chicken nuggets and ketchup properly, the ketchup still in the small Tupperware it was packed in. “Told you Munson.” Steve laughed, patting Eddie on the back, a huge smile on his face.

“I don’t get it, what did you do?” He asked. “Did you bribe them? Threaten them to behave?” Eddie seethed, worried about what Steve did to get Y/n to behave so proper, their manners clearly on full display.

“No!” Steve exclaimed, slightly offended Eddie would think he could do that. “Y/n’s just a good kid!”

Eddie looked back at Y/n, who in turn looked at him, smiling and waving before going back to their food. “You’ve tamed the Terror.” Eddie whispered in shock.

“It might just be the chicken nuggets.” Steve suggested, pointing to Y/n who was happily eating.

“Nope, Fairy eats chicken nuggets all the time, the ketchup never stays in the bowl.” Eddie mumbled, still confused as to the sorcery that was Steve Harrington.

“Well I guess Little Nugget just likes me more.” Steve proudly said, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling like the proud babysitter he was.

- - - - - -

“Steve!” Y/n shouted, running out of the school, the last bell having just rung.

“Hi Little Nugget.” Steve said, hugging Y/n and shaking them side to side in his arms. “I have something for you.”

“Y/n!” Eddie yelled, running out of the same doors Y/n had just run out of, him out of breath and worried as Y/n seemed unfazed. “There you are, jesus, don’t run off like that again.” Eddie sighed, taking a deep breath as he stole them out of Steve’s arms hugging them to ground himself in his worry.

“‘m sorry.” Y/n said, scooching out of Eddie’s arms, holding his hand instead, turning back to Steve. “Stevie has something for me!” They exclaimed, their voice a little too loud.

Steve turned towards the pair, his hands behind his back. “Ready?” Steve asked, Y/n violently shaking their head ‘yes’, Eddie reaching out with his free hand to place it on top of Y/n’s head, holding it in place, something he found himself doing often. Steve revealed a medium sized bear, the bear a classic brown.

“EEEEEE” Y/n yelled, grabbing the bear from Steve’s hands, twirling around with it tightly in their grasp. “I’m gonna name him Ketchup!” They screeched, pure joy displayed on their face as they pet the top of the bears head.

“Ketchup?” Steve and Eddie both asked at the same time, both their voices laced with confusion.

“Yah!” Y/n said, as if the name was so obvious. “I’m Stevies Nugget, so I need Ketchup.” They explained, tucking the bear into their arms, giving Steve a one armed hug. “Thank you Stevie!”

“You’re welcome.” He laughed, not expecting the big reaction he got.

“Can I show da boys?” Y/n beamed, pointing to the group of Hellfire club members congregating near Mike’s sisters car.

“Sure, but then we have to get you home okay?” Eddie responded, Y/n nodding in agreement, running towards the boys and holding out the bear.

“I still don’t know how you get them to behave.” Eddie said in disbelief, watching as Y/n caused havoc on the boys, ruffling their hair, and now tying Gareth’s shoe laces together, just seconds ago being on their best behaviour for Steve.

Steve just shrugged, Robin walking over and getting in his car, yelling at him that they would be late for work if he didn’t hurry up, Steve hopping in the car shortly after. Maybe it was Steve’s hair, or his charming personality, or maybe Y/n behaved so well for him because he slipped them a lollipop … Something he would never admit out loud, it would stay his and his Nugget’s secret, the others could deal with the sugar rush, as long as Y/n behaved for him.

[unexpectedstormy]

Prompt ask: Cuddles

Bonus points if it includes Wild, Hyrule, Legend, and/or Ravio or Wolfie 💜

Oops. Here's 1051 words of everyone's favorite chaos duo (and Epona too!) somehow managing mischief even when trapped in an icy sinkhole.

******

"Well this is fun," Wild said, hands on his hips and looked up at the tall and ice-covered walls of the circular pit they were in.

"I wouldn't call being portaled into an inescapable icy sinkhole as fun," Hyrule said.

"At least we got the horse," Wild glanced Epona who made an annoyed horse noise and shook her mane.

"And we got everyone's stuff too," Hyrule said eyeing Epona's saddlebags. "We should look through them and see if there's anything we can use to get out of here like a hookshot or something."

"Good idea, ehehehe, and we have a rare opportunity to see what cool stuff they've got hidden away," Wild said.

Three raided sweets stashes, two explosions, and one weirdly angry bottled bee later and the two boys found nothing that could help them escape their icy prison; annoyingly, the rest of their companions had kept their mobility items on their person for the portal jump.

“I hope everyone else is okay out there,” Hyrule said making a little next out of blankets and clothes from everyone’s bags. “The sky is clear tonight which means it is going to be very cold.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Wild said piling blankets on Epona’s back. “Probably. Hopefully…. They better be.”

“How thick do you think this ice is?” Hyrule tapped a bare patch of dark blue ice that filled the entire bottom of the sinkhole. “It looks thick enough to tolerate a fire, don’t you think?”

“If it can hold the weight of a fully-laden horse I’m sure it’s thick enough for a bonfire, let alone a regular campfire.”

“Oh? Bonfire time? I’ll start setting it up!”

“Don’t get too crazy,” Wild cautioned. “I’d rather not go swimming if we can help it. Also, you don’t happen to have any grass or hay for Epona in your pack do you?”

“Uh, sorry, no. I only have breadsticks, salted ham, and all of Warriors’ candy.”

“Hmm. Alright. Sorry girl, looks like you’re having only apples and carrots for dinner.”

Epona made a horse noise that was the equivalent of “I really don’t mind. Give me all the apples and carrots you got.”

******

Two hours later, Hyrule and Wild were cozied up together in the blanket and clothing nest well fed and sitting in front of the roaring bonfire with Epona standing close behind on her own bed of blankets laid down for her (sorry Legend, they’re your blankets).

“How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?” Wild asked. Hyrule sighed.

“Probably a while. The others have no way to know that we’re down here. It’s not like we walked here and left tracks or a trail for Wolfie to follow.”

“I have enough apples for Epona to last two or three days at the most, then we’ll have to start sharing our food with her,” Wild said. “I love you Epona, but I’d rather not give you all the wheat and rice I have, which isn’t very much to start with.”

“I wonder if she likes salted ham,” Hyrule pondered. “Or candy.”

“She probably does,” Wild shrugged. “They say horses are omnivores. Isn’t that right, girl?”

Epona made a horse noise that meant “I can neither confirm nor deny that statement.”

“Despite the literal icy prison we’re in, this isn’t so bad,” Hyrule mused. “We’ve got a bigger fire than Time normally lets us make, all the blankets we could ever want, and nobody to fight with over the food. We can eat as much bread and meat skewers and other people’s sweets as we want.”

“You know what? You’re right,” Wild agreed. “Let’s enjoy being in ice jail while we’re here.”

“I hope they don’t find us anytime soon,” Hyrule said. “We’ve only just begun to scratch the surface of exploring what’s in everyone’s packs.”

“Hehe, then let’s get back to it… in the morning,” Wild yawned. “I’m tired and it’s cold.”

“Sure thing,” Hyrule said and nestled even further down into the blankets like a kitten.

******

“Well you guys look cozy,” a voice woke both Wild and Hyrule in the early morning.

“Twilight!” Wild exclaimed disentangling himself from the blanket pile he’d burrowed into. “What are you doing here?!”

“Looking for you two. And Epona. And all our stuff. Which it looks like you took the liberty of exploring.”

“You realize this is an ice-filled sinkhole and we can’t get out of here right?” Hyrule said. “You just trapped yourself down here with us.”

“How do you think I got down here?” Twilight rattled the climbing harness and the rope that connected him to the upper rim of the sinkhole. Sky and Legend waved down at them. Hyrule waved back and Wild gave them a thumbs up.

“Oh yay, we’re saved,” Hyrule said apathetically.

“Why don’t you sound excited?” Twilight asked. “We’re going to fish you out of this hole.”

“Is everyone else alright?” Wild asked.

“Yeah, everyone’s fine. We all managed to find the same hunting cabin and stayed the night there.”

“How did you even find us?” Hyrule asked.

“We saw your smoke signal,” Twilight motioned to the smoldering remains of their bonfire. “You went a little crazy, didn’t ya?” Hyrule giggled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wild said.

“It’s a perfectly ordinary regular-sized campfire,” Hyrule said.

“Neigh,” Epona disagreed.

“Are you two going to get up or just sit there wrapped in blankets like a pair of hibernating bears?”

“Alright, alright, we’re going,” Wild reluctantly stood up and Hyrule groaned and wrapped the blankets around his shoulders even tighter.

“Four’s making berry porridge at the cabin, so if you want some before Wind eats it all, you two had better hurry up,” Twilight said.

“The question is how do we get Epona out of the pit?” Hyrule asked.

“That’s the easy part,” Wild said. “I have horse armor that can teleport the horse. All I—or you or Time—have to do is to whistle the horse-call song and poof! There she is beside you.”

“What? Seriously? That’s so cool!” Hyrule exclaimed.

“Let’s do that then,” Twilight said. “You two get up and pack up and we’ll rappel you up.”

“This has been one short lived vacation,” Hyrule said. “But it was a good one.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Wild agreed.

The End.

[notyour-valentine]

The Boy in the Window ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (Series)

Summary: (Y/N) thinks the boy her daughter sees in the window of the neighbouring house is nothing but a childish fantasy, after all, no one has lived there for years, but when she brings that boy to lunch, she realises that he is in fact very real, rather hungry and quite cold and above all- the son of none other than the infamous Tommy Shelby. Expect spoilers for Peaky Blinders Season 1-4.

Note: This is the prologue to a multi part Tommy Shelby x Reader series with the purpose of an introduction to the reader and her life.   I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other. 

Here, you can find my [Masterlist] and the [Series Masterlist]

Warning: Canon conforming mention of violence. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. 

Requested: no

Wordcount: 2835

Prologue

“There we go!”, she said with a smile, as she watched Emma step back from the fireplace. 

“It’s so pretty, Mummy!”, she exclaimed, clasping her little hands over her face in adoration. “Look, it’s red and green just like the wreath at the door!”

What a coincidence, (Y/N) thought that the Christmas stocking matched the decoration, but her Emma was at that age where everything was amazing, marvellous or simply glorious. Or she’d hate it with every fibre of her being. 

Christmas had truly captivated her - from decorating the house, to baking biscuits, to writing, reading and placing Christmas cards all over the house and now preparing the plate for Father Christmas and Rudolf. It almost made her sad that tomorrow morning this would come to an end. 

“Now, have we forgotten anything?”, she asked, with a deep and serious frown, which Emma mirrored at once. 

“Stockings?”

She pointed at the fireplace at once. 

“Very good - what about milk for Father Christmas?”

“And biscuits too!”

Emma had even picked the prettiest, which was half a shame since they deserved to be shared and now she’d have to eat them all by herself. 

Once more, (Y/N) nodded, but then the realisation hit her daughter. 

“We forgot the carrot for the reindeer!”

With a cry of shock and outrage, Emma shot up, running as fast as her legs could take her. She returned red cheeked, with her hair flying behind her like a banner in the wind, clutching the carrot in her hands like a trophy. 

“There!”, she said, placing it next to the biscuits at once. 

“Well done. That’s all I think.”, she said. “Time for bed!”

“Can’t we wait here for Father Christmas?”, Emma asked. “I want to wish him a good day.”

(Y/N) shook her head. 

“I don’t think so, darling. We never know when he will come, and we can’t spend all night. We’d be terribly tired and sleep through all day tomorrow, and you don’t want that, do you?”

Begrudgingly Emma agreed and took her hand as they made their way up the stairs together. 

She was already washed and changed, so all that remained was to brush and braid her hair while singing her favourite song.

“Can we have the story of the three little pigs tonight?”, Emma asked, once she was neatly tucked into bed. 

“Not tonight. Tonight’s a special night. We’ll read the Christmas story tonight.”

“But we already read it at church today. And they’ll read it again at church tomorrow!”, she complained. 

It was difficult to argue with, but in this she didn’t budge. Emma listened all the same. 

Then she folded her hands and they said the words of their goodnight prayer together. Over the years, it had found its own rhythm, becoming almost a singsong. 

“Good night, my darling!”, she said, as she pressed a kiss to her forehead, smoothing the hair out of her face. 

“Good night!”, Emma said in a softer, sleepier voice. 

But (Y/N) didn’t get far. She had barely reached the foot of the bed, when her daughter called out to her once more.

“Mummy, does Father Christmas really come to every child in the whole wide world?”

“Yes.”, she assured her. 

“Even to the boy across the street?”

(Y/N) scoffed. 

“Well of course. He always comes to Robert and Sophie.”, 

“Not Robert and Sophie!”, she insisted, waving off the neighbours’ children. “Across the little street- the one behind the kitchen.”

Calling that a street was generous indeed. It was a small gap between houses that was barely large enough for two carts to fit inside. Not that there would be any way out for them. 

The back of their house was right next to the back of the house on the other street, with a small and narrow gap that allowed every second house some air. Some council law, which had been long overturned had granted them this little privilege, which brought a bit more light. In Small Heath, that was a blessing. 

From Emma’s window, one could see right across to the house on Watery Lane. 

“Darling, no one lives there. No one has for years.”, she assured her. 

All the Shelbys had moved out of Small Heath, if not out of Birmingham long ago, as quickly as they should - the way anyone would if they had half a brain. 

Of the siblings, Ada had been the first to go- loud, reckless Ada who had never been afraid of anything, even at school. She also hadn’t been afraid to marry a communist and move to London. It seemed that communists weren’t all that strict with money, because she apparently had such a large house, she needed a maid to keep it in order. Or so she had heard from some women in the bath house. 

John and his wife and their ever expanding host of children had long bought a house in the country, and Arthur had followed soon after. And Thomas of course, lived in a house as big as a palace, somewhere in the green. 

The only Shelby to still live in the city was Finn, who, with his cousin, lived in the best part of the city, far away from the smoke. 

But just because they all left, didn’t mean they took their shadow with them. Once, it had only engulfed Small Heath but by now it was large enough to touch every part of the city. There was no way around the Peaky Blinders. 

“So Father Christmas won’t find him?”, Emma asked, wide eyed, as if the prospect caused her little heart to shatter. 

“I am sure that if there is a boy, he will get his presents.”, she soothed. 

Emma still didn’t look entirely convinced, but after another kiss, she settled. 

Once downstairs, she filled Emma’s stocking with sweets and biscuits, clementines, nuts, new socks, a dress, some coloured pencils she had held on to for months and a story book of fairy tales. When money was tight, and money was always tight, one had to buy presents early, whenever there had been a little to spare. She was only glad that Emma hadn’t found any of them yet. She was such a witty, curious girl, who only ever grew smarter by the day. Soon she’d be difficult to keep up with and to keep secrets from, but for now she was only her little girl, and she wouldn’t notice these things just yet. 

~

No parent, in history, ever got to sleep in on Christmas Morning, and nor did Y/N Hale, who was woken just short of six a.m. by excited cries of “Mummy, Mummy, Father Christmas came! He came!” followed by a little human jumping up and down on her bed with excitement, before grabbing her and pulling her downstairs. 

It had been a haze after that, of giddiness and excitement. And then a hassle, because they were so late, they almost arrived too late for the service. She had to call Emma thrice before she left the back window, proclaiming with ministerial certainty that she had to say goodbye to her “friend”, the boy in the window. 

Only at the Church Christmas Tea did (Y/N) have time to breathe. Originally it had been started during the war. Too many people felt alone during those originally festive days without their husbands or brothers, fathers or sons. As it turned out, a combination of individual grief and loneliness could create a companionship of sorts. 

After the war, they kept it up because there were too many families with aching gaps, who would rather come here for a few hours than stare at the empty chairs. It was also a kindness to the many injured veterans who had no one left to turn to. They had just kept it going, and (Y/N) and Emma always went. 

It was the usual suspects. Mr. and Mrs. Morrison had lost their only boy and of Mr. Leeming’s four only one came back. Mrs Richards was a kind woman with a round face who had been old since before (Y/N) could remember, but she was a school teacher, and later volunteered to watch the children who had to stay longer because their parents worked in the factories. The loss of so many men she had known since they were boys had taken away her laughter, but not her good heart. Even now, the children still liked her, but there was something in her eyes when she looked at the boys which sent shivers down (Y/N)’s spine. The children were too oblivious and too distracted by the lemon sherbets in her pockets to notice of course. 

Mr. Perth had lost a leg to the king’s ambition and Mr. Graham his sight. The Dudley brothers were particularly worthy of pity - all three of them returned from across the sea only to see their parents and younger sisters waste away from the Spanish Flu. 

It was always the same faces. 

A sorry lot we are indeed, she thought, but that was what Small Heath was. A sorry lot, who made do best they could. 

And sometimes the best they could do was huddle together on Christmas Day for one nice warm cup of tea and some biscuits and cake. 

(Y/N) volunteered at the church whenever she could and so these rooms were neither strange nor haunting to Emma, nor a lot of the other children. 

They enjoyed the cake, the sweets and most importantly the fact that their parents were a little more lenient than usual and so they ran circles around the Christmas tree they had decorated with the same ribbons as every year. 

“It’s good to see Emma so happy.”, Mrs Cook said with a smile. “I remember it being difficult this time of year. Especially at first.”

(Y/N) nodded, watching Emma taking over the role of ring leader as the children began to play a game of cards. 

Mrs. Cook had fifteen years on her, and her own weight to carry, not unlike the one she bore. The South African war had taken her husband. She owned the tailors (Y/N) found some work in. It wasn’t as fancy as the Chinese ones, but enough for the folks down here and she was never shy of teaching her a thing or two. 

“It’s the second for us.”, (Y/N) said with a heavy sigh. “I suppose that’s an improvement.”

Mrs Cook gave her arm a squeeze. 

“I know it sounds harsh now, but be glad Emma is so young. Younger hearts heal easier. And she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

(Y/N) scoffed. She had a long list of the things Emma was missing. 

Her father’s hugs, the booming sound of his laughter, the way he could carve toys out of nothing but plain wood and imitate bird sounds to perfection. She missed out on a childhood on a farm, on chickens, on fruit trees and green grass. She missed out on siblings, on fresh air and on the person (Y/N) had once been. 

“I am trying my best, but…”

She shook her head. 

“Emma is her father’s daughter, smart and brave and I am none of these things. Soon enough she’ll get bored of me.”

And it was a dangerous thing to get bored in a place like this, especially for a girl. 

“Sometimes I think it’s already happening.”

“Why would you say that?”, Mrs. Cook asked. 

“Currently, she has an imaginary friend.”, (Y/N) said. “I try to keep her busy, but apparently it’s not enough. Perhaps she is lonely?”

The older woman smiled, the soft wrinkles around her eyes deepening. 

“Oh my dear, don’t you worry. Your Emma is just fine. She’s a young girl with a great imagination.”

She shook her head. 

“And lonely? Emma could befriend a tree- just wait until she gets to school. She’ll be gobbling up all the books in the library, I bet.”

I hope. 

That was another reason why (Y/N) was so keen on involving herself with the church. A possible future reference from the priest could be worth more than gold, a recommendation maybe, perhaps even a scholarship. Opportunities were limited in a place like this, and she so wanted the best for her little girl. 

It was the reason she had learned how to speak properly, so that one wouldn’t hear a word out of Emma’s mouth and know she was from Small Heath- that worked with medium success. But talking to Mrs. Cook made her heart feel a little lighter. 

It was nearly two by the time they got home from the church. 

“I’m just going to heat up some soup, yes?”, she asked. After a Christmas dinner and all those treats not just on Christmas morning but also at the Church tea, she wondered if Emma would even be able to finish both a bowl and a slice of bread. 

It always surprised her how much people were able to muster up for the children - little sweets, biscuits, oranges, nuts - most people brought something, even if it was just something little just to brighten up the youngster’s days. And of course the parents had little chance of taking it away before it found their way to their mouths.

Emma nodded almost impatiently, staring out of the window again. It had snowed slightly. 

“Do you want to go outside?”, she asked, glancing at the thin white sheet. 

“Oh yes, Mummy, please!”, she said. 

“Well go on then.”

It was as if the factorie’s fire and heat found its way into the earth as it could snow as much as it liked, but it would all melt away within hours. Nothing good or pretty ever lasted long in Small Heath. 

If Emma played in the small enclosure between their house and the houses on Watery Lane, she wouldn’t be at risk to get hit by a car or get into trouble - and she could get back into the kitchen whenever she liked, never really out of sight. 

And so (Y/N) saw it at once, when Emma was balancing a plate of two clementines, some biscuits, a few slices of ham, a piece of bread and a block of cheese thick as her thumb on her gloved hands. 

“What are you doing?”, she demanded to know, putting down the wooden spoon she had used to stir the soup with. 

“He said he was hungry.”, she declared firmly. “You don’t mind me putting it out there for him?"

The boy from the window again. 

(Y/N) was fine playing along, but there had to be limits. 

“I do mind!”, she said. “If you leave food out there, we will have rats in no time and didn’t we just have a good night story about rats? Where do you think we’ll get a Nutcracker Prince to fight them off? I’ll have to do it all on my own.”

That made Emma frown, but her eyes soon went back to the window. 

“Well if I can’t leave it out, can he come here?”

Before she could argue, Emma tried again. 

“Please, Mummy, please. He’ll be ever so good and he won’t make a mess and he won’t be noisy either.”

If your imaginary friend was loud and made a mess I’d call a priest, she thought. 

“He’s so quiet, like a little mouse.”, Emma giggled. 

I was called a mouse once, she remembered, and nodded, as she took the plate from her hands. 

That had been a lifetime ago. But it was good to be a mouse in this place - quiet, easily hidden and unnoticed. Until she had been noticed, and swept off her feet into a better, calmer life away from the city, in a small cottage on a farm. That dream had lasted three years, before an accident had made her a widow and their barely two year old little girl an orphan, sending her right back into this place. 

“Fine. Your friend can come.”, she agreed to humour her. 

It wasn’t like he’d eat them out of house and home. 

(Y/N) poured the soup into a porcelain bowl and reached for the oven gloves.

“Emma?”, she called out. “Come now!”

“We’re already here, Mummy.”, she heard from right behind her, followed by an excited giggle. 

She turned and cried out, as the bowl of hot soup almost slipped from her grasp.

Still, she flinched so hard, some of it splashed over the edges. The gloves soaked up the most part, but some drops still hit her arms, burning her skin. 

But that was the least of her problems, she realised, as she stared into a pair of bright blue eyes.

End of Prologue

~

Here is the continuation in: [Part 1]

Thank you very much for reading. I'd be very welcome for feedback of any kind.

If you are interested in more, here is my [Masterlist] and the [Series Masterlist]

Taglist: 

@lilyrachelcassidy

[wri0thesley]

Imagine escaping Diluc only to realize you were better off with him.Your life was fine before, but there is no way of getting that back. Mondstadt would certainly side with Diluc if you ever tried to reveal the truth. They’d hand you right back to him. You can’t risk being caught, so you headed to Liyue. At least there it would take a bit longer for his connections to find you. You’ve mostly hidden in the wilderness running from monsters of all kinds, eating nothing carrots and apples you’ve found. You avoid all adventurers or people in fear they’ll later lead him to you.It was a relief the first few days, but you missed having a bed, being able to take warm baths. You missed the luxury of being able to socialize without fear. Eventually you come to the conclusion you’re better off by his side at this point. You can’t go back to your real home, and you can’t seem to make one, so you might as well go to the place where you will be a bit safer. Imagine Yandere Diluc who’s been frantically searching for his darling only to see them walking right back to him.

honestly, one of the things i think is so terrifying about yandere Diluc is . . . yes, he has a saviour complex. yes, he thinks you're better off with him, yes he thinks he could provide for you and keep you safe--

and in some ways, he's right. he's rich and well-respected and handsome and it seems that dawn winery as a whole pays a lot of mondstadt's taxes and keeps a lot of the economy afloat - even other taverns buy from him, after all. if you did escape . . . plenty of people wouldn't understand why. he's handsome and eligible and kind and really, it's almost a duty to your nation that you keep him happy.

you'd discover this quickly enough if you escaped; shunned from those you trusted, told to go back to him and swallow your protestations and be a good little spouse for him, keep him happy. ignored. perhaps even brought back by force by some mondstadters, eager to get on master ragnvindr's good side.

and whilst liyue might sound a good idea . . . you have nothing, in those wilds. no mora and nobody to help you and the fear of hilichurls and geovishaps and who knows what else.

it's lucky that diluc adores you so much . . . another yandere would not be so kind upon your return.

[thebluestbluewords]

cinderellaverse?? In my 2024??

it’s more likely than you think!

(for context: the rotten ot4 are wildly codependent, Ben is possibly seducing them all via unreciprocated acts of kindness, and this takes place directly after the iconic Good Boy scene, only with some AU changes that aren’t ready to post yet).

(why am i posting this if no other context is finished yet??? Because I’m needy and crave validation. Next question, please).

+

“Ugh,” Mal agrees. She looks mostly asleep still, which is understandable. “Weird. Did you eat yet?” 

Carlos lifts the napkin-wrapped bundle in his hands. “I brought food. To share. If you want.” 

This, predictably, gets Mal up. They’re far enough away from the isle that Carlos can almost believe that their parents aren’t lurking behind every dark corner of the castle, but not so far that they’ll turn down fresh food, even at stupid early hours.

“Berries?” 

“Yeah. Brought berries for you. And muffins.” 

“Evie wants chocolate,” Mal says immediately, stretching out both hands for the napkin-wrapped bundle. “And weird that Ben made you meet someone new. I thought we’d already been subjected to every princess-type in the school by now.” 

“Not a person. He made me meet a— a dog.” 

Mal stops with the muffins in her hands still outstretched. “Oh,” she says carefully, which is nice of her. Their Auradon education must be kicking in, or some shit. “And you’re not halfway home?” 

“I was. But Ben sort of—put the dog away and tracked me down? He was cool about it. We went over afterwards to check out the stables, cause he thought maybe it was like, just animals I don’t like, and they’ve got cats and stuff there. And the dog was on a leash, and he’s actually super tiny and not murderous.” Carlos shrugs, telegraphing the motion as much as he can. Which isn’t much. He’s supposed to be working on the whole expressing emotions thing. Even though it’s so much easier to shut down entirely whenever he feels an emotion. “So yeah. Still alive, still here! And Ben’s being weird.” 

“Weird how?” 

“Just weird. He was being all nice and stuff. D’you think he’s been bribed by Fairy Godmother to get info on us?” 

“Might be,” Mal agrees, tearing into her muffin. She’s unwrapped the whole bundle, and laid them out in an order that’s got to make sense in her head. (it shouldn’t make sense. They can’t afford to be predictable. Predictable is how you get your lunch stolen, or poisoned, or eaten by pirates who think it’s funny to take a perfectly rotten sandwich and swap it out for seaweed slime). “You should eat though. You didn’t tell him anything, right?” 

Carlos pulls a scrap off the cinnamon sugar muffin. It’s the one Mal’s put in his assigned spot, which is directly across from her own, with Evie’s double chocolate on the left and Jay’s lemon poppyseed on the right. He’s not really hungry, but it’s still too much to turn down food, so he rolls it between his fingers until half of the sugar falls off into the napkin, and the rest of it is compressed into the smallest possible ball of muffin flesh. He can eat a little piece of it, and then Mal will stop asking, and he can eat for real later. Once he’s alone. 

He pops the ball of muffin into his mouth. “No. Not really.” 

Mal shoves another mouthful of muffin into her mouth. She picked the blueberry one, and it turns the whole mess of it vividly purple as she chews. “Cool. He’s probably just being a royal brat then, trying to get some new intel for the gossip mill. But hey, it’s cool that he showed you the stables. Maybe next time we need to get to town you can steal us a horse, yeah?” 

Carlos snorts. He’s seen a horse now, and there’s no way they can get away with stealing something that big and ornery. Cars might be bigger, but they don’t bite and they don’t poop and they don’t have teeth the size of his fingers and a desire to bite through anything that looks even remotely like a carrot. “Yeah, no. Horses are fucking giant.” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Mal says casually. She throws one of her loose berries up so she can catch it in her teeth. Sometimes, when it’s just the four of them, Mal forgets to act human and does things like this. Things where she snatches treats out of the air with her teeth, when her neck bends in ways that a human’s shouldn’t, like she’s forgotten that she only has seven bones in her neck and not seventeen like a standard dragon. “Nobody ever wakes me up at the crack of dawn to show me cool shit.” 

Carlos wants to laugh and make this whole thing normal, but he’s fucking exhausted and the cinnamon sugar from the muffin is sticky on his fingers. He’s been trying to pull it apart carefully so that his whole hands don’t get covered in the crumbly topping, but that’s been working about as well as their escape plan so far, which is to say not at fucking all. “Yeah, yeah. He also made us run laps first, don’t be jealous.” 

Mal snaps her teeth. “I’ll be whatever I want. He didn’t do anything else?“ 

“Nope.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes, mom. He just wanted to talk a bunch about how we’re settling in. And how we’re doing emotionally.” 

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hey~ I want to request another school PTSD and also share a bit of my experience when I was in Uni. Reader who forgot to take care of themselves because they are busy with studying and assignments, causing the RoR characters worried because sometimes they forget to eat for a few days. They then find reader crying in frustration and anger because the people in her group assignment didn't do their part and forced it on them. And yes, this is based on my experience, the different is I have to swallow my pain and exhaustion because I am on my own.

Nice to see that times have not changed since I was in school. I remember getting all the work thrown onto me for group projects all the time. I got to a point that I would request to work alone, if I was going to do all the work myself anyway. I’m sorry that people are this lazy and cruel, especially for group projects, I remember that when I was in school, each member was responsible for a certain part and if their part wasn’t done, the whole project got dinged. My sweet revenge that happened to me after being ghosted by my partners in a final exam project will be portrayed below. If you are able to, and if you have proof, like messages, show them to your professor to prove that your group mates were trying to force all the work onto you, and you shouldn’t be penalized for them not doing their own work. They’re adults, time for them to start acting like one, as the real world doesn’t work like that, and they’ll find themselves out of jobs, money, and live miserable lives. Stay strong my sweet Anon, I’m here if you want to talk.

-Your jaw clenched as your teeth grinded together, staring at your phone, hot tears of rage welling up inside of your eyes as you read the message in your group text of your fellow partners in your final exam project.

-You had gotten to the point of nagging them, needing their parts to complete your own, as your final grade depended on this project, being worth a full letter grade.

-Since you had other exams and one other project to prepare for, you got your part done as quickly as possible, but you needed the parts of the other three members of your group to finish.

-Every single one of them had been ghosting you, telling you that they would get to it when they could, not responding and leaving you on read, until today, when all three of them basically told you if you wanted this project done so badly, you could do it.

-The tears quickly spilled over as you slammed your phone down onto your desk and stood sharply, but the room spun, only for a moment before you paused, trying to remember the last time you ate anything.

-You go downstairs, not realizing you were skulking, trying to wipe the tears away from your cheeks as you walk into the kitchen.

-Lu Bu was there, eating a carrot and he froze, seeing your tears and almost instantly you could see the rage inside of him, “What happened?”

-You sniffle, trying to form words as he approached before you step closer and wrap your arms around his midsection, making him freeze as you hug him tightly.

-His eyes glance to either side, as he wasn’t the best with comforting others, hoping someone would come by to help.

-His prayer was answered when Buddha and Hermes entered, seeing the scene, you crying and hugging Lu Bu, and Lu Bu panicking on what to do.

-Buddha approached, putting his hand on your head and you turned, seeing him and he could see that you were exhausted, tears running down your face, and to be honest, you didn’t look that great, “Y/N, when’s the last time you ate something?” you couldn’t answer him, giving them your answer in your silence before you stepped away from Lu Bu, “Gonna make some ramen noodles then get back to work, since nobody else is going to do it!” you voice rose in tone, showing your anger as you went to the pantry.

-As soon as the ramen cup was in your hand, Hermes slapped it out of your hand, not hurting you before he pointed at the table, “You sit down right now, I’ll make you something more substantial than ramen. Take a break, Y/N.”

-You wanted to argue but Lu Bu’s hands on your hips, picking you up like you were a rag doll before sitting you down on one of the empty chairs was a quick veto of any argument.

-Buddha sat next to you, having grabbed a wet washcloth and wiped your cheeks, which you did have to admit felt good before he spoke, “Now then, what happened? Who’s not going what?”

-You explain about the huge project and how your partners are either ghosting you or trying to force all of their work onto you, but you have several other projects and exams to study for and they were quick to realize, from overworking yourself, the stress these idiots were putting on you, and not eating for at least a full day if not more, everything was coming out all at once.

-You broke down into tears again, burying your face into you hands as your shoulders started to shake from the sobs. Buddha had to quickly try to calm you down, as you started to hyperventilate and hiccups started to escape you.

-Ten minutes later you were attacking a thick BLT sandwich, made with extra bacon, showing how hungry you really were while the three men offered their own opinions.

-You froze, hearing Lu Bu’s idea of letting them burn, he meant it literally, but you take it how you want as your eyes sparkled, “That’s it! I’m going to watch them burn!!” as you said this, you had stood up, arms raised to the roof, and your eyes burning like they were made out of flames as Lu Bu grinned but the other two shared a look, only half afraid that you were going to something that involved arson.

-After getting a bowl of ice cream you headed back upstairs, laughing manically the whole way.

-Hermes asked Buddha to hide the matches, just to be on the safe side.

-Two days later, your revenge was served deliciously cold, you had a skip in your step when you came into the kitchen, having just arrived home, seeing Hermes, Lu Bu and Buddha there.

-Buddha grinned at your glee, “You seem happy, something good happen?” you turn on him with stars in your eyes, “Oh yes! It was glorious!!”

-You sat down after grabbing a water bottle, an almost evil grin on your face, “Before class I went to my professor with my part of the project as well as print outs of all the messages from my partners. She said that my portion was done beautifully and that she would grade my part alone, as my final project. When it came time to present, I presented my portion only and my partners were expecting me to have done theirs too, but I didn’t do diddly shit!”

-They didn’t scold you on your language, Lu Bu actually ruffled your hair, proud of you, before you continued, “When my professor asked for their parts they tried to come up with excuses before she showed them the messages that I gave to her, which pissed them off royally, before she told them that for our group, we were all being graded separately for our individual parts, and not a group!”

-Hermes couldn’t help but grin, hearing what you did and he patted your head, “Brilliant, you used their own words against them! How many more do you have to do now?”

-You relaxed in your chair, a sigh leaving you, “Just the history exam tomorrow and I’m done for the next two and a half months!”

-Buddha stood with a grin, “This sounds like a reason for a celebration! Want to go out for barbeque?” He grinned, seeing both Lu Bu’s and your eyes sparkle as Hermes agreed and the four of you left to go and gorge yourself on all you can eat barbeque to celebrate your ice cold vengeance.

-On your way, you ask Hermes, “Do you know where all the matches went? I wanted to light a candle during my bath last night and I couldn’t find any.” Hermes and Buddha flinched, sending each other a look while Lu Bu grinned before question marks were flying around your head, wondering what was up.

[creature-wizard]

Something I think needs to be acknowledged more is that fear-based and hope-based motivation tactics are two sides of the same coin.

Mainstream Christianity is famous for using Hell as a fear-based motivation tactic, and so many consider Christianity to be a fear-based religion. However, many Christians would feel that this is a complete mischaracterization of Christianity, because they see Christianity as hope-based. To them, Hell is just a fundamental facet of reality, and the only ones who have reason to fear are those who haven’t been saved. Christian preachers constantly tell adherents that they shouldn’t be afraid because they have salvation and God on their side.

Of course, in this religion the hope of Heaven is meaningless without the threat of Hell, so it’s still fear-based no matter how much they try to deny it.

New Agers are very critical of mainstream Christianity’s fear tactics. They go so far as to propose that fear creates a kind of nourishment for malicious entities, and advise believers to avoid anything that makes them feel afraid.

Yet, they have many, many fear-based control tactics of their own. For example, they might claim things like:

Taking medications will calcify your pineal gland, so you won’t be able to connect to Source and ascend to 5D.

Taking the vaccine will sever your connection to God and turn you into a mindless zombie.

The elite are abusing children and eating babies, and that’s why everything the New Agers are doing right now matters.

You can’t trust people or institutions who disagree with them, because they’re on the side of the people who want to abuse children and eat babies.

If you don’t sign up for their Patreon you’ll miss out on an exciting new update from the Galactic Federation of Light!!!

They will claim that their spirituality isn’t fear-based because they’re actually focused on ascension. However, this is no different from Christians claiming they aren’t fear-based because they’re focused on God’s love and his plan of salvation. There is also no difference between telling someone they’ll go to Hell if they don’t follow your religion, and telling someone they’ll lose their connection to Source if they take medications or vaccines. None whatsoever.

I am not condemning fear. Fear is a useful emotion; its purpose is to keep you safe from harm. Yes, people can use your fear to manipulate you. But literally all of your emotions can be used to manipulate you. For example, nationalists often try to make you feel such an all-encompassing sense of love for your country that attacking whoever they declare to be its enemy feels like an act of love on your part. It’s far better to critically engage with your fear than to avoid it altogether.

It’s also important to recognize that carrots and sticks are typically employed together, and that the promise of the carrot doesn’t negate the threat of the stick.

[a-little-birdie]

can u do rottmnt x reader suffering from period

Heck yeah! Because you didn’t specify who or what the relationship is, ima just do general headcannon style (with some small blurbs) with the main boys and romantic if that’s okay! I wanted to try my hand at romantic for a bit, of course mikey is platonic!

Tw: female anatomy but I did my best to make the reader as gender neutral as possible, talk of periods, blood, menstrual pain, nausea, vomiting the works.

General

Im going to say it here and now: Splinter did not teach his sons about periods or anything like that. However April did explain everything to them before they met you so they actually understand quite a bit. They listened to April very intently because it means they’d be able to help her in the future with anything she might need or want.

So if you come to the sewers looking uncomfy or in pain, Mikey has the most awesomest chocolate in the world hand made by the one and only, Leo is in the kitchen making tea for you, Raph has plenty of pain pills and gravol to share and Donnie has blankets and heating pads!

Even though they understand the pain you’re feeling they’re still goofballs so they’ll pretend to be you while on your period sometimes and it’ll become a “who can make the best zombie impression” contest. It’s still great fun though.

Leo

I’m going to say he’s very sweet when you’re on your period, if you’re ever sore or in pain or just in general uncomfortable he’s always willing to help you out.

Has stolen menstrual health products for you and will do it again.

His favourite thing to do with you while your on your period is turn on the TV and cuddle while marathoning movies together. Sweet, salty, spicy and savoury overpriced snacks surround the two of you as you watch the movies together. It’s nice.

You sit cuddled up against Leo’s plastron while playing with the tails of his bandana. Leo currently has his arms wrapped around you as he slowly works through a small knot in your back. Another wave of pain hits you and you shudder in Leo’s arms. “Leo.” You whine out and he kisses your temple while moving the blankets around a bit to better cover the two of you. “I know, I know. It hurts, but it’ll be okay. It’s just a little longer.” You whine a little more before nodding and settling back down. Leo gives you another kiss as he squeezes you in a gentle hug and then starting to work more on the knot he was earlier. Just a few more minutes before the pain meds kick in. Then you’ll be able to eat all the junk food you want and marathon movies with Leo.

Raph

This man has all the pain meds you might need. Advil? Check. Tylenol? Yep. Aleve? What does he look like, a chump? And of course he also has Gravol for any nausea you might have.

Speaking of Gravol you tend to need it, a lot. It’s not something he’s upset about though. He’s the oldest brother to three other children in a sewer pipe, when they were younger they’d get into all kinds of crap that would make them sick. So it’s okay, just let Raph comfort you.

When you’re not nauseous and having to live with a bucket in between your hands, the two of you pretty much continue on as business as normal. While you still take it easy (because Raph refuses to let you push yourself to far) you still do some light workouts and stretching with him and the boys.

(Warning!! I know I already mentioned vomiting and nausea but this is where it’s ramped up! There is some description, but not much.)

You sat on Raphs bed with a blanket around your shoulders. He had quickly cleaned his room before you walked in which was really sweet but you couldn’t care less while you were puking your brains out. You swallowed as another wave of nausea rolled over you, trying not to lose whatever food you had left in your stomach before giving up. You gagged as you vomited into the bucket and looked at what was inside. Eggs from breakfast and…. “Carrots, why is there always carrots?” You mumble out loud as Raph rubs your back in a soothing motion as he hands you your water bottle. After rinsing your mouth of whatever bile was left in there you settle back against Raphs side. Raph puts an arm around you shoulders. “You gonna be okay?” You nod your head as you lean into him, a grounding and solid weight you can rely on whenever you want. Yeah, you’ll be okay, especially with Raph here to help you.

Donnie

Donnie understands your pain, at least a little. He’s had really bad stomach cramps and has just felt overall really bad. But Y’know what’s always helped him? Coffee, heated, weighted and normal blankets and video games. It’s to do with something something rest something something don’t worry about anything.

If you come over looking like and even feeling like death, he’ll set you up with a nice cuppa Joe (coffee) if you want and your choice of heated and weighted blankets. Then he’ll hand you a controller and join you for a game of your choosing. It’s quiet and he’s not the most physically affectionate but it’s more the silent “I’m here, don’t worry” message when he passes you the blankets.

Will get you anything you want. Literally anything. Remember how splinter wanted some extinct robin eggs or something like that and S.H.E.L.D.O.N. Got him DINO EGGS OF ALL THINGS??? Yeah, he can and will get you anything. So if you want some super fancy croissant? He’ll go to Paris and steal get one from the greatest pastry chef in France. Or you want some kind of cheese that was only available a long time ago? Hold on one second, he’ll send Sheldon out for you.

You sat comfortably on a separate gaming chair next to Donnie, both of you sipping on coffee while playing Stardew Valley (I play Stardew and it’s really comforting, if you don’t like it you can imagine something else) together. You were trying to get the perfection ending by the end of year two, which was a challenge but still nice. Of course Donnie figured out a schedule and a chart to be as efficient as possible, however with things like weather being random it became more of a guideline than anything. “Damn it.” You hiss out as you lost the fishing mini game. “You’ll get it next time.” Donnie reassures you and you look at him. “Right, like when you said that the last three times.” Donnie raises his eyebrows. “Scoff.” Is his only reply. “Snort.” You playfully retort back and the both of you smile as you continue playing together, enjoying the music of the video game.

Mikey (platonic)

This dude is so ready to help you feel better ASAP. Prepare for Dr. Feelings, Dr. Positive and even Dr. Delicate Touch if you need a swift kick in the butt. But you’re most likely just gonna be cooking in the kitchen with Mikey. You two are gonna make the greatest pizza in the entire world!

After pizza you two play some slightly competitive video games. It’s loads of fun with lighthearted banter and trash talk. Of course there’s some playful wrestling involved! You totally don’t steal his remote before he can reach the finish line in Mario kart

All in all, spending time with Mikey while on your period is mostly just him trying to cheer you up and help distract you from how uncomfortable your period is. You’re his best friend and he hates seeing you in any type of pain, so he’s going to do his absolute darnedest to help you out as much as possible!

You sat on a beanbag in front of the large tv next to Mikey, the upbeat and fast paced music of the racing video game keeping you focused on beating the other to the finish line. “Oh, you are going down!” You scoff as Mikey clicks away at his controller furiously. “Yeah right! We both know I’m the reigning champ!! And as always. Eat. My. Dust.” You say with a finality that is punctuated with your ultimate move. A big, fat “YOU LOSE!!” Screen flashes across Mikey’s half of the game and you let out a victory whoop. “Noooooooooo! My victory! My high score! My win streak!! Stolen from me by my one and only friend!” Mikey says with a theatrical air while dramatically sinking to the ground in mock despair. “What will I do now? How shall I live on?” You wheeze after holding back your snorts and snickers and burst into full laughter. Mikey joins you rolling on the floor and clutching his sides. After both of you calm down you purse your lips before looking at Mikey. “Wanna go for round two?” Mikey gives you a devilish smile telling you he won’t let his win streak go so easily. “You’re on!!”

Wow, much longer than I expected! They all aren’t balanced, especially in terms of quality I think. I tried to make it more balanced though between the four of them. Lemme know what’cha think! I absolutely loved writing this by the way, it was quite comforting. Periods really suck so I hope this might comfort anyone dealing with that stuff! I wanted to get a bit of all the different sides of a period but I didn’t really get to sadly. And I’m gonna stop there because if I don’t I’m gonna go into a big long spiel about periods and no one wants to hear or read that! Anyways hope you enjoyed and that this is what you wanted!!

[vashtijoy]

fic excerpt: akechi at thirteen

Here's another excerpt from the unpublished fic mountain. Akechi is thirteen, and turning increasingly bad—on the inside. CW child abuse and neglect, obviously.

. . .

When Akechi is thirteen, he’s living with his uncle Hiro over a greengrocer’s in Nerima. Nerima is renowned for its beauty, for its sprawling parks and for the rows and rows of cherry blossom that line the river. But the older he gets, the less easy it is to distract Akechi with pretty trivia, like cherry blossoms and ice cream and stars. They’re just a gloss over the reality of the world.

Nerima borders Saitama Prefecture to the northwest; it gets its prettiness from being about as far from civilisation as is possible, within the twenty-three special wards of Tokyo. It’s also about as far as you can get from Akechi’s original middle school, the one he won the scholarship to. I’m not paying for you to ride the subway every day, his uncle had droned, in his horrible voice that drags itself along like a drunken bee. Do you think I’m made of money? You can use that time to work in the shop.

Akechi had bowed, of course, and said yes, sir. He’s an old hand at eating shit by now. There are always different things they want him to do, different perfections he has to embody—whether to protect himself, or to keep his place, though these days he’s not stupid enough to expect that. Or just for practice, to entertain himself. Who cares if his plans are in pieces at his feet? If his father will never notice a boy with a public school education? Before long Akechi will be back in the city, and his old school will take him back; they’ll have to. He was one of the best students they had.

So: school every day. Homework in his lunch hour, and self-study too, because he’s getting more and more behind; his uncle has cut his cram school days to two plus weekends, even though Akechi gets a subsidised place by now—what? you don’t need to go every day, who do you think you are?—because he wants him to work in the shop, even though the only thing Akechi wants to do with fruits, or vegetables, or the customers, for that matter, is to hurl them repeatedly at the wall until they stick.

It’s not like he has outlandish plans—be the best, get into the best high school he can, study law, go into politics, destroy his evil father. A whole lot of boys all across Japan have those ambitions—with the possible exception of the last; a whole lot of boys starting from a much higher place than he is.

But almost none of Akechi’s relatives understand that those things are important. They want him to stay quiet, stay out of the way. Work in the shop, clean the house or car, run errands—and when he does all those things with a smile, they ignore him, just like when he brings home perfect report cards. Eat less, like he’s not two years into puberty. Sleep less restlessly with the TV blaring and the family yelling at each other around him. Little things like that. And none of them have been interested in him at all. More like the money they can pull in, for fostering a child.

Isn’t it all that way, though? The teachers at school—aren’t they in it for what they can get, as well? Even the ones who encourage Akechi, who seem to care if he does well—they don’t care about him. They just get points for helping him. They’re graded on performance, like Akechi’s graded on his schoolwork. Like the customers who walk into the shop and smile at him in his green apron—so young, so cute, so well-turned-out!—while Akechi stands there bowing and irasshaimaseing, and he helps them with their purchases and tells them what’s in season (because of course he knows), when all he wants to do is tell them that they sound like toads, or that their children are ugly, or that he hopes the carrots and lotus roots he’s exquisitely bagging up give them cancer. Little things like that. Beautiful smile, best bow, hand them the bag with both hands, thinking to himself the whole time, I hope your faces rot off.

Eventually it becomes routine, like all the other roles he’s played, all the other boys his so-called family have expected him to be. He doesn’t know why they haven’t stuck him in a home. Shame, probably; his extended family continue to scrape by in various parts of the city, and some aunt or uncle or cousin can always be guilted into taking on the shameful burden he is. At least for a couple of weeks at a time. By now, Akechi is the best houseguest in the world.

.

He’s still top of the class, through his own refusal to give up and his year at a private school, more than through the hands of any god. He has his own space, the attic above the tiny flat above the shop; he’s cleaned it up as best he can, and propped his futon on pallets so nothing can get in his hair. It doesn’t matter that the attic is unheated; he only sleeps up there. Everything is under control.

By now, he quite enjoys working in the shop. You’re such a good boy, croons an old lady in the shop, seeing her feckless grandson, probably. And of course Akechi smiles and thanks her, he has a gift for bullshitting, he’s a born salesman; at this point he thinks half of these women only come in to talk to him. Just to offer him a few words of impersonal praise, and spend all their money on salad or fruit or mushrooms they don’t need.

They don’t know him. They don’t ask his name. He’s playing a role, again, an actor on a stage. But he feels warm when they praise him, when they talk about how hard he works. Even while he’s cursing them in his head, those curses have no power, because someone has noticed him. Just like when his teachers praise him, even though their praise means less than shit, and only the weight of numbers, accumulating week after week like grains of sand, means a damn thing.

He’s not allowed to use the front entrance to the shop. But when he passes it, he sees the sign: 八百屋, yaoya, “eight-hundred-things shop”: greengrocer. He remembers, dimly, reading it over and over, for a woman with long fingernails and no face, a cloud of perfume with legs.

.

At school, he has more friends than ever, at least in general terms. He’s friendly and makes jokes; he’s confident and laughs at himself; he draws a crowd and people like him, because if you don’t get good at making connections, when you constantly move from place to place, you drown. Of course, there are the few who really hate him, who glare when he passes and would push him just to see him fall. Akechi is friendly to them when necessary, like he is to everyone. But he marks them in his head to be wrecked, when the opportunity and the excuse arise. People with grudges are so easy. Mind you, he thinks that about everyone.

He doesn’t know what he’d be, if he couldn’t charm a crowd. Probably one of those scruffy animals who sulk at the edge of class, who get sent home for having their hair dyed blond or blue or pink, who scowl like they’re on to society, but too stupid to fight it. That will never be Akechi, just because he can lie with his whole face and body, and make people like him. If he’s polished, and cute, and accomplished; if he lies fluently and makes others feel good about themselves, they have no idea he’s some leader’s castoff child. They don’t know he’s parentless and unwanted, that he’s only ever had a mother. They accept him for what he seems to be, for what he puts out into the world. Indeed, if he’s a good enough liar, then what he says goes, doesn’t it? The stories he tells about himself decide the truth.

At least, until somebody asks for his papers. Which are registered at his grandparents’ house, the one place, sometimes, he thinks he has never stayed at, never visited. One child, mother only (deceased), no father: his existence is a stain not only on his missing father’s life, not only on his own life, but on his grandparents’ lives. His grandparents, that he’s never met. A stain that can’t be erased even if he dies. Because Japanese society is simply that rotten.

So if he wants to get off on a few worthless old ladies cooing over him, who gives a shit, exactly? Nobody knows about it, nobody can see through him because nobody sees. They see what they expect to see, they hear what they expect to hear, and if you understand that….

Well, you can do anything. Can’t you?

.

The thing is, Akechi is smart enough to know he’s not unique. But he’s also sure he has insights nobody else could possibly have. Nobody has ever wanted him; that’s just a fact. His mother must have wanted him, or she wouldn’t have kept him, but she also didn’t want him enough to stick around. All the family he’s been landed on—nothing he could do was ever enough for any of them. He’s exceptional, and he’s still never good enough to break through the wall of their indifference.

And it’s not even just his family. All of Japanese society is the problem. Lies and smiles and formal language, all hiding uninterest and self-interest. A fixation on blood children and propriety that means children like him rot, an empty box on a family register and a woman leaving home alone enough to tarnish a whole family for life. It’s all rotten to the core.

And nobody who didn’t live it would even notice. Because nobody cares about anything they don’t have to.

Even the lies he tells others are society’s fault. He hasn’t done anything wrong, has he? He’s great at being anyone at all, other than himself. A walking hall of mirrors and masks that’s sometimes labelled Akechi-kun, sometimes tenin-kun—“Master Shop Assistant”—far, far less frequently Goro-kun, and typically these days at home a curt Hey, you.

[blu-joons]

Domestic Bliss ~ Kim Namjoon

Your eyes widened in horror as Namjoon grabbed the kitchen knife, cringing as you watched him try and the carrots that you had peeled to continue your dinner preparations with you and the boys.

“Not like that,” you hurriedly told him, moving around the kitchen and standing behind Namjoon, placing your hand over his at the handle of the knife. “You have to be careful Namjoon.”

“I can do it,” he tried to protest in reply.

You calmly began to show him what to do, dicing the carrots just like you had wanted to do in the first place. You could feel the nerves in Namjoon’s hand as he let you control him, his eyes watching with focus to see what you were doing.

Little did you know that several other pairs of eyes were watching you too as the boys watched on from your dining room. After hearing the panic in your voice, they all looked around, watching you both stood at the counter preparing the meal.

“Aren’t they just the cutest,” Jungkook whispered, resting his head into his hand. “When I get a girlfriend one day, I want a relationship just like these two.”

Several heads nodded in agreement with Jungkook from around the table, just like him, the other members too often found themselves in awe at how well you both got along.

“I’ve never seen Namjoon like this before,” Yoongi agreed, chuckling at the two of you, “doesn’t it just feel like we’re watching a movie right now?”

“The fluffiest movie in the world?”

A few laughs came in reply to Jin’s question as he too found himself sucked in by watching the two of you, admiring the wide smiles that were on both of your faces.

“They might become too invested in each other that they forget that we’re here,” Jimin added.

In the kitchen though, the two of you knew exactly who you were cooking for as Namjoon grabbed the other vegetables that you needed. He was still a little uncertain as he handed them to you, deciding to take a step back once he was done.

“Are you going to chop them? You just have to do the same as we did with the carrots,” you told him, pushing the knife in Namjoon’s direction.

“I think it’s better if I just watch this one.”

The corners of your mouth turned up as Namjoon raised his hands into the air, refusing to take any of the responsibility for what was left of dinner.

“I’ll do anything else,” Namjoon proudly told you, “but not cook.”

You began to chop the vegetables yourself as Namjoon looked around the kitchen to try and spot something that he could do to make himself busy.

“Maybe I’ll go and see if the boys want any more drinks,” he offered, catching your head nodding out of the corner of his eye. “They’ll probably drink the house dry tonight.”

You smiled across at Namjoon before he headed back through the door of the kitchen and into the dining room, surprised to immediately have all eyes on him.

The boys struggled to control their smiles as they looked at Namjoon, sniggering at the innocent look that he had in response to them. He was clueless as to what was entertaining them so much when either of you were yet to do anything as you hosted them for the evening.

“I don’t think any of us ever imagined you as the domestic type,” Taehyung eventually spoke up as Namjoon picked up a couple of empty bottles around the table.

His brows knitted together as he looked in Taehyung’s direction at the opposite end of the table. “What are you on about domestic? I’ve not even done anything.”

“We saw Y/N teaching you in there,” Hobi pointed out to him.

A shy smile appeared on Namjoon’s face as he realised that the boys had been watching him, knowing that teasing was inevitable from them too. It was something that always made Namjoon shy letting the boys see how much you helped him.

“I can’t believe you still don’t know how to cook though,” Jimin spoke up, “why did you invite us round for dinner when you can’t do it? You should have just ordered takeout for us to eat tonight instead.”

“Y/N insisted that we cook, she’s still trying to get used to cooking in a new kitchen,” Namjoon justified. “I offered to be sous chef, but I think Y/N soon realised that that probably wasn’t the best idea that she’s had.”

“But you helped each other,” Jin proudly smiled, “somehow you’ve both ended up contributing to this meal.”

Namjoon’s head shook back at him, “I don’t think you can call what I did help, Y/N would get it done much quicker without me there.”

As much as he tried to knock his role, the domestic moments between the two of you were both of yours to own. Despite not being the most helpful, the boys couldn’t help but softly watch how adorable you both were.

With Namjoon moving around the table and filling up empty glasses, the other members were all still watching him with grins on their faces. “I love watching you two but I hate watching you two at the same time,” Jimin admitted as Namjoon leaned across him in order to top up the wine that Jimin had in his glass.

“What have we done to make you hate us?” Namjoon asked in surprise as he stood back up, “we’ve barely even spoken to you since you guys arrived here tonight?”

“You’re too sweet, it makes me want to hurry up and be in a relationship.”

“It’s not just being in a relationship that makes Y/N and Namjoon work though,” Taehyung interjected, “they work because they’re a great team together, not just because they happen to get along with each other.”

The more the boys spoke, the shier Namjoon got, slightly relieved that you were in the kitchen and not listening to the boys all gush about you both.

“How do you do it?” Yoongi then asked him, “I mean I know you’re in a new home, but how do you make your relationship seem so homely and perfect at the same time?”

“We’re just us,” Namjoon defended, “we’re not trying to do anything other than be us, even if you guys like it.”

The boys hummed in reply at how innocent Namjoon’s smile was, knowing deep down that he was enjoying himself.

“We’re happy for you, you know,” Hobi then suddenly added, “we couldn’t be happier seeing you not just in your new home Joon, but so settled with Y/N. You know just how fond all of us are of Y/N too.”

“I’m enjoying being here,” he smiled in reply, “and having Y/N here too is great, I miss you guys, but I love living with Y/N too.”

“And we love that you’re living with Y/N,” Jin noted, “who else could we trust to live with you and look after you like Y/N does?”

Namjoon pushed against Jin’s shoulder as he walked past him, “I’m not as incapable as you guys think I am you know.”

“Joon, without Y/N, there would be nothing domestic about you,” Jungkook teased.

“Don’t underestimate me, I’d be just fine.”

---

Masterlist

[nami-writes]

[ an apple | a day | (keeps the doctor) away ]

couple month old 3 part story i conjured up! i came up with this concept and thought it was pretty cool so yknow. wrote it and now here we are <3

content warnings: implied/referenced abuse, emeto, bad/reluctant "caretaker," starvation, begging

It’s his first day being tasked with watching Villain.

He arrives half an hour early, signs in, and sits in the lounge to pass the time. This promotion may not be due to his competence— it's no secret the heroes’ main facility is becoming understaffed after their public support started dwindling— but he’s not going to let that disprove it. The heroes need all the loyal supporters they can get. Guard can ignore a couple of rumors to prove he's worth their time.

He triple-checks his sidearm before he rounds the corner and exchanges a nod with the guard already there, then takes her place. In five hours they’ll bring him Villain’s dinner to slide under the door and then three hours after that he’ll switch out with the night shift guard and go home. Easy as that. He just needs to ensure Villain eats and check the barred window every few minutes to make sure Villain is still chained up.

He is, upon Guard’s first glance in. The chains are longer than he expected and the cell is also much smaller than he expected. Villain is slumped against the wall, so still Guard can't quite tell if he's still breathing, but he decides that even if he's not, so be it. His job isn't to keep Villain alive. His job is to make sure he doesn't escape.

Things get boring quickly. He starts out looking in every dozen seconds or so, just out of curiosity and amazement that he’s this close to a completely helpless Villain, but nothing ever changes. Minutes and hours drag on and he thinks a strand of hair shifted out of place, but even that could be his imagination. Maybe Villain is just asleep. Guard passes the time counting the cracks in the wall. Then counting them again, just to make sure he didn’t miss any.

Finally, someone brings him Villain’s dinner tray. It holds a couple spoonfuls of what looks like mystery meat, half a cup of water, and a limp carrot. Guard frowns, then shrugs and slides it under. They must intentionally keep him weak. It doesn’t matter to him anyway, just makes his job easier. He's a little hungry too, in fact— maybe he'll bring a snack with him tomorrow.

He checks on him again a few minutes after sliding his lunch in. Villain still hasn’t moved. The chains must be as long as they are so that he can reach his food, but if he’s tried, he left no signs of it. Guard’s starting to think maybe he is asleep.

“Hey,” he calls, knocking on the door with a knuckle. “Wake up and eat your lunch before the rats get to it first.” He doubts there are actually rats, but it makes for a marginally meaner command.

Villain doesn’t show any signs of life. Maybe he’s just dead.

“Hey!” He slams a fist into the door this time. “Wake up!”

He flinches and his head lolls just a bit. Guard frowns, annoyed. So he is alive. He’s just ignoring him.

“Eat your lunch or I’m coming in there,” he shouts. He was instructed to avoid unlocking the door but he is authorized to use force if he deems it necessary.

Either way, that seems to get his attention. Villain’s eyes snap open and he scrambles for the tray of food that Guard isn’t even sure is fully edible. Just to be safe, he watches as Villain takes each painstaking bite. Each one comes slower than the last until he stops completely, with half the tray still untouched. He downs the water, stares at the rest of his food like it hurts to look at with a hand clutching his stomach.

“Stop wasting time and finish your food,” Guard says. Villain has survived this long on this same food. What makes this particular tray so awful?

“I…” He drags in a ragged breath. “I c-ca…”

And then he retches onto the floor, just beside his tray of food.

Guard doesn't know what to do. He watches Villain heave the undigested contents of his stomach onto the floor he now realizes has stains from previous incidents like this and he just stands there because he wasn't told what to do in this situation. He stares in shock as Villain coughs up the last of the chunky vomit and then drags himself back over to the wall, where he collapses again. He doesn't even bother to sit upright, just lies down on his side.

It's fine. They'll probably bring him something new to eat tomorrow. He did eat, technically, and he won’t die from one day without food. Guard knows that doesn't count as eating, but something twists in his gut at the thought of making Villain choke the food down and swallow back his vomit. So he leaves it at that.

He lets Villain sleep for the last hour of his shift, even though the next guard shouts and bangs on the door to wake him up the moment Guard steps away.

—

He brings his own food the next day. A sandwich and an apple. He doubts he's supposed to be eating on the job, but he doesn't exactly have a lunch break and Villain is in no shape to try anything funny.

Things go about the same way they did the day before. He looks into the cell every couple of minutes. There’s a fresh new stain on the floor now, no doubt from yesterday. It seems the janitors didn’t clean it up very well.

With nothing else to do, Guard nibbles on his sandwich. Villain only moves once and it’s to curl up on his side with his arms around his abdomen like he’s still in pain even though it’s been a day. He’s completely silent, though, so Guard leaves him alone.

Five hours have never felt so long. At least yesterday standing in the same place while glancing through bars on a door was new. Now, the minutes drag on and he recounts the cracks in the wall but when that gets old, he starts counting how many times he needs to nibble his sandwich to finish it. When it's gone, he still has three hours left. He could’ve sworn it’s been longer.

He’s bored. He’s tired of standing here. And his only source of entertainment is Villain.

He checks in on him again. Villain is still lying on the ground curled up in a ball. Vomiting should’ve solved whatever was upsetting his stomach, right? What’s still wrong with him?

“Hey,” Guard calls. “Something wrong?”

Villain curls himself tighter. “No.” His voice is strained. It’s a boldfaced lie.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“M’fine.”

He shouldn’t pick a fight with him. He knows it’s not worth it. But he’s bored out of his mind and maybe he shouldn’t just resign himself to letting Villain die, if just because he needs something to do.

He pulls out his key and unlocks the door. The click of the lock catches Villain’s attention immediately and wide eyes meet his as he steps into the room.

“W-wait,” Villain stammers and holds up a thin pleading hand, “wait, wait, I’m sorry, I wasn’t— I didn’t mean to—”

“What’s the problem?” Guard snaps at a cowering Villain. He didn’t exactly expect him to start grovelling, but he just needs to know what’s wrong with him.

His eyes flick between Guard and the door, but then drop to the floor fast. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look at the, um, I just— my… my s-stomach…”

“Throwing up didn’t fix it?”

Villain winces. “No, no sir, it happened, um… after.”

After? “What happened after?”

“...Nothing. Nothing. S-sir.”

“Spit it out,” Guard says, annoyed. “I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong. What is it?”

Villain looks torn and terrified. Guard doesn't understand why it's such a big deal. He lifts a hand to gesture “well?” but Villain only cringes away from him.

“Well, it’s something with your stomach, right? And it’s not a digestive issue,” he says. Villain doesn’t respond. That’s a yes. “Lift up your shirt.”

He freezes. Understandable, but annoying nonetheless.

Guard frowns. “You’re not exactly making it easy for me to figure it out a normal way, so lift up your shirt.”

“No, wait, just— I-I’ll talk, I’ll talk, okay?” He sighs and mumbles shamefully through grit teeth. “I… it was a punishment. For throwing up. Okay? That’s— that’s what happened. They, um… beat me.”

“They beat your stomach?”

He nods. He doesn’t lift his gaze from the floor.

“Why?”

“My stomach’s why I threw up,” he shrugs. “So, that’s… that’s what they beat.”

Guard hums in acknowledgment. He sees the reasoning, he supposes, but beating his stomach won’t make him vomit any less. Isn’t the goal to solve the problem?

Villain raises his head just a little bit, daring to glance up. “Am I… are you done now?”

That’s when he remembers he originally just came in here to harass Villain and entertain himself. He almost feels bad. He does feel bad. But he’s already established that he isn’t here to be nice to him, so he just gives him a curt nod and lets him suffer in peace. As close to peace as he can get, at least.

Villain doesn’t move again for the next two-and-a-half hours, save for painstakingly shifting back into the same position on the floor he’d been in before Guard entered the cell. He doesn’t know how Villain is going to stomach his dinner if he threw up last night and now his stomach is in pain. Guard doubts the food will be any better tonight.

He receives the tray on schedule and slides it in. It holds the exact same food as yesterday, only the mystery meat is replaced with beans. It’s not enough to sustain him, not when he didn’t eat last night’s dinner and probably couldn’t eat any meals in between. But what can Guard do?

Thinking about food starts to make him hungry again too, which reminds him— the apple. He’ll just snack on that until his shift is over. He pulls it out and brushes it off and goes to take a bite, then stops. He takes a second to check on Villain. Villain hasn’t moved.

“Hey,” he says. “Uh…” How does he say this without being weird about it? “Are you gonna be able to eat that?”

Villain looks up at the tray of food and his eyelids droop warily. “Yes sir, I will, I’ll… I’ll eat it. I'll eat it. Have to.” He mutters the last bit hoarsely like the knowledge that he needs to eat it to survive is painful.

“I told you to stop lying to me,” Guard snaps. He’s trying to help Villain this time. “I’ve got an apple. If you couldn’t eat that I was gonna give it to you.”

At that, Villain’s eyes light up with hope and desperation. “Please.” He doesn’t even hesitate to beg. “I’m sorry, please. Please, I-I need— I won’t lie to you again, I swear I won’t, I swear, please!”

Part of him relishes in being able to make Villain beg. The better part of him rolls the apple through the slot under the door to get him to stop. “Here. Just don’t throw up again.”

“Y’sir, I won’t, I swear.” He practically lunges for the apple and bites into it. He still winces when he swallows, likely due to his stomach pain, but he gobbles up the apple twice as fast as he tried to eat his dinner last night. “Thank you— thank you, sir.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, then adds, “Really. I doubt I’m supposed to be giving you food. Don’t say anything to anyone or you’ll regret it.”

It’s a bluff— he isn’t actually going to do anything about it, not really— but Villain either doesn’t realize or doesn’t care because he nods vigorously nonetheless. “Yes sir.”

“Good.” He looks down at the untouched tray of prison food beside Villain. “An apple isn’t enough to make up for a day’s worth of missed meals. Try and eat that too. Just don’t eat so much you throw up again and the apple ends up not doing anything for you.”

Villain eyes the tray painfully but at Guard’s command, he steels himself. “Yes, sir.”

He doesn’t make it past three bites, but at least this time he doesn’t vomit. Guard counts that as a win.

[crevicedwelling]

i sent in an ask awhile ago about what bugs would tolerate handling and you suggested mealworms/beetles and i looked them up and it seems like it will be pretty simple! but im not sure i trust all these guides especially since theyre mostly about keeping them for food. do you know a dedicated site to bug pet care? i need to know what substrate would be healthiest for them and which moisture sources theyll like the most. also since theyre supposed to be kept cool and dark and i live in california, would the inside of a cabinet be a good place for them to spend most of their time? i would leave it slightly open for air flow but it gets way hot and its the coolest darkest spot i can think of. im deeply deeply excited 2 meet them. i think the best part of keeping a bug is that they arent there to keep you company or be pet or dressed up or whatever, its all about taking something that would have a hard dangerous life in the wild and basically putting it in bug heaven with the caveat that you get to stare at it through glass a lot. its mutualistic in that way so i want my bugs to be the happiest and healthiest they can be. keep up my end of the bargain lol

cool temps is only if you want mealworms to last a long time and slow their pupation for feeding them to reptiles. if you are keeping them as pets, warmth is fine for growth!

I don’t know if any decent places with a pet mealworm caresheet vs feeder, so I’ll just summarize what I think will work here. for Tenebrio molitor, the yellow mealworm:

get a large tub or tank (lid optional but should be very ventilated—screen or cutouts work best) and fill to 2” or more with grain-based substrate like bran, oatmeal, or chicken feed and put some mealworms in it. put a piece of cardboard egg carton on top; you’re done!

they will eat pieces of pretty much any vegetable or fruit for moisture and extra nutrients—see what works with the scraps from your own meals. humidity is not a concern as long as there is moisture food to eat. take care to not wet the substrate too much which will support mold and mites, so with a small population of mealworms some carrot chunks or potato or 1/4 of an apple core will work well. remove treats as they get eaten, desiccate, or mold, and replace with fresh ones. feed them more treats as they breed. dry dog food or high protein chicken feed are often accepted as protein treats, and while there isn’t really a limit on how much you can feed them just a little should be enough. adults eat the same food as larvae.

heathy mealworm larvae should be plump and firm to the touch. soft, “C” shaped mealworms that do not move are getting ready to pupate. pupae start white and soft, become yellowish and hard, and then the brown limbs of the developing adult become visible through the exoskeleton and the adult will eclose. adults hatch white and sclerotize to red and finally dark black. they’ll lay eggs in the substrate or in the fibers of the egg carton. black, shrivelled mealworm larvae and pupae are dead and should be removed.

cannibalism can be a concern when protein and moisture are low, so keep on top of the supplemental food. having a sifter or sieve to sort out mealworms works well when changing substrates, as the lower levels will be mostly dusty dry frass (poop) once the upper levels of substrate are eaten. the powdery dusty frass may be of allergenic concern, and is gross to breathe in so do your sifting outdoors if possible or in a room you can vacuum.

you can also try keeping mealworm larvae on a mixture of barely moist coconut husk bedding, leaf litter, and rotten wood, offering small amounts of grains and vegetables as they eat it. this substrate is less edible but they can still grow on it, although the humidity may mean mites and mold which are both gross. superworms (Zophobas atratus) can thrive on this style of keeping since they eat more (less mold) and digest wood better. they’re quite a bit bigger and can make a worse stink, but otherwise care is very similar. they do fine on grain substrate too, but will need more moisture food.