#to make it softer and easier to scoop

[marimaru1301]

can someone emind me thst i can pull up microwave recipes because i got hungry and while my puny ass was eating expired ice cream i forgot i coul use those microwave recipes i watch on youtube as a recreational hobby and wtaching my sbiling make scarmbled eggs in the microwave reminded me of that but it was too late

[mypoisonedvine]

Have you seen Peacock yet? In love with the idea of Yandere!John and Yandere!Emma keeping you as their pet. They both love you so much. Emma’s a softer yan but she still doesn’t want to let you go. 🥰🥰🥰

YES. YES. YES YE SYE SYES Y-

warnings: dark, implied/described noncon, kidnapping/captivity, yandere, housewife kink

You shivered slightly as Emma ran her hands over your hair, humming to herself. "Is the water too cold, sweetie?" she asked.

You didn't answer. It was a little tepid, but that wasn't why you shivered. She sighed a little as she ran her hand down your back, fingers ghosting over a bruise by your shoulder.

"He can be a little... rough, can't he?" she noticed, lowering her voice, and you still didn't respond, looking away from her even more as if the tile wall by the bathtub was suddenly fascinating to you. "Lean back, sweetie, so I can wash your hair."

You did as you were told, laying back to submerge the back of your head in the water; you kept your eyes open at first, but when she looked right at you with those dark brown eyes, you quickly shut your own.

Her hand scooped water over your hairline, carefully avoiding getting any in your eyes. You sighed as you felt her be so delicate with you... you only wish those hands had been so kind before. John didn't say anything when he fucked you; he just held you down, and left you in the bed alone when he was done. Emma came in after, seeming surprised and uncomfortable at the sight of you like that, before softly suggesting 'lets get you cleaned up, dear.'

She sat you back up carefully; at first, you were so unwillingly lost in your memories that you didn't notice her trying to prompt you to lift yourself again.

There was silence, spare the gentle sloshing of water around the tub, and Emma's quiet humming.

"Will you ever let me go?" you blurted out suddenly.

She stopped humming. She sighed a little. "He thinks you're safer here."

"But what do you think?"

She bit her lip, looking away demurely. "Well... I don't think that makes any difference, does it?"

You felt anxiousness stir in your gut as you thought of what you could say then, but feared it would get you in trouble. You couldn't really afford to keep any cards in your hand now, could you? "You could... you could tell him to let me go," you suggested hesitantly.

"Oh-- no, that's not an option," she insisted quickly. "It would be easier to help you adjust to living here now."

Your shoulders sank; realizing this route of conversation was useless, you mostly stopped listening and tried to just think of anything else.

"He's just trying to court you," she explained, "but he doesn't know how."

Not getting a response, she still went on, but moreso talking to herself.

"Maybe he just needs a little help..."

~

Don't be so nervous. She might like you if you give her a chance! -Emma

John looked at the note with a frown. He wasn't sure what to think of it. He really would've preferred that Emma stayed out of his romantic life, but he also couldn't deny that she probably had some advice he could use... a woman's perspective, that is. John really didn't know anything about women. Hence, keeping you here.

Stepping into the room, he winced a little when he saw you jump, obviously trying to hide how afraid you were of him. He couldn't blame you. But he couldn't help it, either.

For a long moment, you just looked at him; he suddenly realized it was bizarre that he hadn't said anything.

"You look pretty."

He found himself absent-mindedly rubbing his palms on his slacks. "Um... she picked out the dress for me..." you informed him.

"It's pretty. You look pretty," he said again.

You jolted slightly, again, when he stepped in, but he ignored it and walked to the record player. He turned it down-- way down-- and started a slow song quietly. He wasn't sure what he expected; he certainly imagined what might happen, that he might be able to dance with you, but he didn't expect it. You wouldn't want to--

"Do you want to dance?" you offered suddenly, making him whip his head around in surprise. You'd stepped closer to him but seemed to shy away when he looked at you-- he tried to soften his face.

"...do you?" he returned incredulously.

"I... I might," you shrugged, acting a little shy suddenly-- he thought it was rather adorable.

"Why?" he wondered bluntly.

"It sounds fun," you answered with a little smile, but then you glanced away and gave a second answer-- the more honest one, it seemed. "I... I want things to be different, with us."

He nodded. He did, too. He didn't like hurting you... he just didn't think he had any other choice.

"So, I thought... maybe we could dance!" you finished.

"Y-yes, um, sure," he agreed. "I haven't... danced in a long time..."

"That's alright," you assured sweetly, "I'll teach you."

He didn't completely trust your kindness, even if it made his cheeks burn a bit. You'd been so scared of him before, so empty behind the eyes when he forced you onto the bed--

"Can you waltz?" you asked.

"U-um--"

"We can do something easier," you decided quickly instead, motioning for him to come a little closer. Nervously, but obediently, he did.

He carefully took your waist, sighing harder through his nose than he meant to-- he didn't want you to know how nervous he was.

But he probably gave it away when you reached up and held his shoulders, and he looked at you with wide eyes.

Then, you started to sway together-- slowly, in time with the music. He couldn't look away from you, even when he realized that you were looking away out of awkward discomfort. You just looked so beautiful like this, and holding you in his arms just felt so right. He held his breath when you leaned in and laid your head on his chest, as if one wrong move would scare you off.

He thought about asking you why you were doing this. He thought about telling you that he knew all along you were made for him-- that you would be happy here, if you let yourself accept it. He thought about just grabbing you and pulling you closer, desperate to feel your body against his own. But he was too scared: he didn't do anything, not until you told him to.

You looked up at him suddenly, with wide and pleading eyes. "You can kiss me, John," you whispered.

What could he possibly say to that? Thankfully, he got the sense that he didn't really need to say anything... he could just kiss you, apparently, so he did. He wasn't really sure if he was doing it right-- but it felt right, pressing his lips to yours softly. You were so sweet and delicate... he melted a little, right then, knowing more than ever that he made the right choice bringing you here. His heart was pounding and his mind was swarming with the overwhelming obsession with you that he could hardly believe he'd once tried to fight.

You started to pull away, but his desperation took over-- he grabbed your face and kissed you harder, following you when you stepped back until you stumbled into the dresser and he had to catch you. "John, wait--" you mumbled.

"Don't wanna wait," he groaned in reply. "I waited so long for you already--"

Still, you pushed him back at the shoulders, and he quickly wiped his mouth as he broke away from you. "I'm sorry," you said right away, "it's not-- it's not that I don't want you to... I just wanted to talk to you first."

"Oh... okay," he mumbled, feeling more confused than ever. What was there to talk about?

"I... I think you're very sweet," you told him, "and I always thought that-- it's why I came to the bank so much, you know. To see you."

He smiled a little. He'd always suspected that, but never let himself truly believe it. A girl like you would never go for a guy like him... or he wouldn't have had to do this.

"But it's just... it's not practical, is it?" you said. "The way you went about it--"

"I-I just need you too much," he tried to defend.

"No, I understand," you promised with a sigh, "and I'm not angry. But... I think maybe... it might be better if you let me--"

"No."

You whined a little. "You didn't even hear what I wanted--"

"I don't need to. You want to leave," he accused. "And I won't let you."

"John, you can't do this. You can't keep me here forever!" you yelped.

"You say you want things to be different with us, then you say that," he sneered. "You want to make me angry, don't you?"

"No, John," you denied quickly, but he was already stepping closer, backing you into a corner. "John, please--"

"You want me to be like this!" he continued regardless. "You're trying to make me angry!"

You shook your head, eyes welling as he pushed you back.

"You know you can't leave. You know I can't let you leave," he growled, grabbing you hard as you whined and tried weakly to fight him. His chest swelled with an addictive sort of rage... no, he didn't want to hurt you, but something made him feel sickly proud when he did, because he could. "You belong to me now. Nothing's ever gonna change that."

"Please," you sobbed weakly, hiding your face in your hands-- but he pulled them away and pinned them back, pressing himself to you until you looked up at him fearfully.

"I'm never letting you leave this house," he assured, "you'll be lucky if I let you leave that bed again."

You had barely even opened your mouth to protest when he wrapped his hand around your neck, choking your cries into silence.

"Not another word, Mrs. Skillpa," he whispered sharply. "This is my house-- and I own everything in it. I'm in charge here, understand?"

[pix3lplays]

OKAY BUT YOURE SO REAL FOR SAM!!! He is….. sobs. (/pos)

Anyeay

Might have penacony spoilers? Haven’t actually played it yet but I’ve seen his model and heard shit through the grapevine so. Idk

Okay so he’s like, an extraordinarily violent semi human cyborg thing or whatever BUT what if he carried his partner, fucking everywhere, regardless of size. Everywhere. I choose to believe he cannot feel pressure through the metal but he CAN feel heat so he’s like constantly touching his partner (esp if they run hot) and he just so happens to be inhumanly strong so. Why wouldn’t he just carry them around?

Idk how your writing requests really work but I saw that you write for sam and my brain instantly exploded so. Hopefully this idea rattles around in your brain as hard as it did mine lmao.

YOU GET IT, SAM IS SO-

Ugh I’m just. Literally whatever he wants I will get it for him-

Lore discussion for Sam so spoiler warning-

But yes he’s a “remnant of Glamoth's Iron Cavalry — a genetically engineered warrior…” so if I refer to him as a robot that’s just because it’s easier than “genetically engineered warrior” haha so YEAH I’m AWARE he’s NOT a robot it’s just easier to call him a robot…

But okay onto the ask-

The way I’ve had TWO asks about Sam picking up and carrying around his partner I’m obsessed…

But why wouldn’t he? He’s literally superhumanly strong, he can pick you up EFFORTLESSLY, and you seem to like it when he does it so…

It’s funny, he wants to show you something and instead of just saying, “hey follow me,” he just scoops you up off the couch and carries you to whatever he’s trying to show you.

So YES what you said about him not feeling pressure is interesting-as far as I can tell he is Literally a killing machine, I’m led to believe that’s Actually what he’s made for…so it takes him a while to learn how to be gentle enough with you-

At first it’s a lot of “SAM you’re holding me WAY TOO TIGHT!! Put me down-” and not to mention he definitely runs hot with all that fire stuff…so if he’s not managing his temperature when he picks you up…ow, HOT METAL-

The amount of times Sam has accidentally hurt you is sadly pretty high…

You still remember the first time you tried to hold his hand-the robot almost broke your fingers-

Getting distracted, BACK TO THE FOCUS-

Sam carrying you around and you get to a closed door so you think Oh surely he’ll put me down so he can open the door but NOPE he just holds you with one arm so he can open the door AND keep ahold of you. Whoa-

Kafka definitely makes jokes about how you’ll forget how to walk with Sam always carrying you around, but she genuinely thinks it’s cute that big bad Sam is such a softie for you.

But yeah once he gets the hang of holding you without injuring you it’s pretty nice honestly.

Also him just being fascinated by being able to feel your body heat is SO-

He’s different from you, he really is. You are much more…delicate. You’re really alive and much softer and you actually trust him enough to let him touch you. Frankly, he’s a little obsessed.

He gets a little…protective, lowkey possessive when he’s holding you…scary for anyone else, but you have never felt safer.

You’re also most of his impulse control and he can’t be all that violent and insane while he’s got his favorite person in his arms, I mean what if he HURTS you in the process? So that’s a plus too.

Seriously, it’s magic to see how that maniac robot actually calms down when you’re involved.

You can really be like, “Sam I think you need to pick me up for a little bit before you hurt someone-” and he actually listens to you, it’s great.

Ok that’s what I’ve got haha, please carry us Sam~

[narrycherries]

🌼like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do🌼 part 5 (dadrry)

..

masterlist

word count: 3.2k

warnings/tags: harry x reader, dadrry, fluff

(a/n: you guys voted, so the baby name is revealed: Vivian/Vivy)

You happened to be waking up when you heard the noise through the baby monitor. The baby was whining and babbling to herself in her crib, waiting for someone to tend to her. You turned off the monitor so it wouldn’t wake up Harry before you left to go get her.

When you opened her door and flicked on the light, she pulled herself up and started giggling, excited to see you. She was still a bit wobbly, but she was getting better at trying to stand.

“Good morning, Vivy.” You said with a laugh as you scooped her up. “I should’ve known you weren’t gonna let me and Dada sleep in.”

“Da da!” She squealed, snapping her head around looking for him.

You tickled her side. “We’ll go see Dada in a minute.”

She continued to mumble little sounds to you as you changed her diaper and let her pick a stuffed animal to carry to the bedroom. She grabbed a small pink bunny, one of her favorite ones, and held it by the bow around its neck.

Once you were done, you made your way back to the bedroom. Harry was still asleep, his arms tucked by his sides as he laid on his stomach. He had shifted since you left, probably noticing you weren’t there anymore.

“Da da.”

“Shh, let Dada sleep a bit longer, baby.” You sat her on the bed so you could pull your shirt over your head.

It was easier to completely take it off, especially when you were comfortable and in the privacy of your bedroom. When you picked her up again, she let out a squeal and a few giggles, which made you grin at her.

“Mommy’s pretty girl, yeah? You’re such a cutie.”

She smiled back, but soon settled on your lap as she realized she was getting hungry. You let her latch on whenever she was ready. The older she got, the easier it was for her to do this more on her own, but it was also harder for you to handle the pain. She was cutting another tooth, so it hurt occasionally. She definitely got comfortable as she nursed, which made you slightly hopeful that she’d fall back to sleep.

After twenty minutes, she decided she was done. You slipped your shirt back on and sat her on the bed between you and Harry. At first, she was occupied with her bunny, not really paying him any attention. The moment he let out a grunt, her head lifted and her eyes went straight to him.

“Da da da.” She waited a moment, then whined because he didn’t answer. “Da da.”

“Give Dada some pats, like this.” You said as you reached over and pulled the blankets back, gently patting your hand against his shoulder blade.

She gave you a curious look then proceeded to copy you, but with a bit more force. The sound of her hand smacking his skin made you laugh.

“Do it soft, baby girl. Don’t hurt Dada.” You demonstrated again.

“Ma ma ma.” She softly spoke as you took your hand away and allowed her to try again. She did it only slightly softer, and this time he groaned.

“Da da da!” She squealed, quickly grabbing onto his back with both hands, and every nail digging into his skin.

You couldn’t resist laughing as she started slapping him with both hands, chanting his name over and over in between her giggles. You got a video of her doing it, just so you could show him later. It was always so adorable to watch her interact with him, and this was making your heart flutter. She squeaked as he opened his eyes and shifted his head.

“Vivy.” His voice was scratchy, but she definitely knew he was awake now.

“Da da da.”

He chuckled and brought his arm from his side to put it around her. She had been sitting on her knees, so when she fell forward onto his head you both started laughing.

“G’morning, baby. You’re a little ray of sunshine this morning, hm?” He said as she started climbing onto his back, one hand tugging his hair for support.

“She’s been happy since she woke up, Dada.”

He smiled as he finally got a chance to see you. “Vivy.. can I get up, baby?”

“Da da da da!” She started patting his back again, well her version of patting.

“That means no.” You said in a whisper, making him playfully roll his eyes.

“You girls make all the rules, yeah?”

“Someone has to keep you in line.”

“Da da!” Vivian suddenly shrieked, making Harry flinch and you laugh.

“C’mere, babe.” Harry tried to look over his shoulder at her. “I wanna give you some cuddles.”

“Ma ma!”

Harry laughed. “Telling on me, hm?”

“Ma ma ma ma.” She continued.

“Someone’s going to be in trouble.” You gave him a nudge as you laid down, leaving a space for the baby whenever she decided to get down.

“Please go easy on me, m’already getting beat up.”

“Vivy, give Dada a break.” You smiled as she looked your way.

She was grinning like crazy still, very pleased by the fact her parents were with her and paying her some attention. Harry looked back at her, calling her name to get her attention. She leaned towards him, pressing her forehead against his ear. He chuckled and tried his best to reach for her without knocking her over.

“C’mon, baby girl.” He said with a smile as she squealed straight into his ear, making it ring for a moment. “Come cuddle with Dada.”

“Da da!” She happily shrieked back.

It didn’t take any more begging. Harry rolled over the moment she climbed onto the mattress between you two and, of course, nuzzled her way into his arms, right against his chest like she liked. You were always so in awe at the way they acted together - how special he was for her and how much he adored her. You decided you’d give them some space, besides you had some alone time with her earlier anyways. It was his turn. His eyes shifted to you as you pushed yourself up on your hand, your lips finding his quickly. He grunted, furrowing his brows while you pressed a few pecks against the baby’s head.

“Where y’goin’?” His voice was still scratchy from his slumber, which made your heart flutter. The simplest things drove you insane sometimes.

“M’gonna take a bath. Wan’ you to have some baby time.”

Harry sighed, reaching for your hand. “Babe, you don’t have to go. We can love on our little bug together, y’know?”

You licked your lips and smiled, shaking your head slightly. “She’ll be perfectly happy with just getting some love from Dada.”

“Da da da.” The baby repeated his name, her face was now mushed in the crook of Harry’s neck. She wanted to be as close as possible.

“I guess you deserve a nice bath, hm?” He pursed his lips for a moment, then let a smile shape to them. “Enjoy your alone time, darling. We’ll be waiting for you.”

“I know.” You squeezed his hand while your lips met his once again, just for a few seconds. “Don’t steal all her cuddles.”

Harry pinched your wrist before letting you slip away from him. “I’ll save you some.”

To Harry’s surprise, the baby was completely fine with you leaving her alone with him. She’s slowly starting to overcome some of her anxiety. You believe that she if she feels safe and comfortable, then she won’t freak out as much or at all really. And now right, she couldn’t get more comfortable.

She was laying on Harry’s chest, her small fingers toying with the chain around his neck. He always worried the pendant would come off and she’d try to put it in her mouth, but he knew right now she was safe. She was just occupying her attention by pinching it and rubbing the chain against her skin. It was a comforting thing that she did often. He never minded. It kept her happy and that was all that mattered to him.

“Vivy.” Harry mumbled her nickname quietly as she let out a few soft whines. He was concerned because she had been so quiet for the past fifteen minutes. “Baby doll.”

She gently moved her head, which he took as a sign of having her attention. She didn’t seem very active anymore, which was bothering him. Maybe she just wanted to relax and rest. He hoped nothing was wrong, he couldn’t possibly handle that right now.

“Da da da.” She spoke back, her small hand slapping down on Harry’s chest.

He chuckled and gave her sides a tickle. She squealed, struggling to sit up on his chest. He helped her and kept a hold on her waist once she was up. She reached for the necklace again, this time pulling the chain up with her.

“Do you miss Mama?” He asked softly, not sure if you could hear him or not from the bathroom across the room. She looked up at him, eyes widening at the mention of your name. He smiled sweetly to her. “Yeah? Bet you do, hm?”

“Da da da.. Ma ma.. ba ba.” She kept on babbling, saying a few things he recognized but mostly it was just noises.

He couldn’t help but laugh at how cute and confident her words were, even if they were hardly words. She let go of his chain and slid off his chest, which made him roll back over to keep a hold of her. The last thing she needed to do was tumble off the side of the bed and hurt herself.

“Mama’s taking a bath, baby girl. She’ll be back in a bit.”

“Ba ba!” She suddenly said as she grabbed the stuffed bunny off the bed.

Harry watched in amazement as she rubbed her hand over the texture of the fur, almost as if she was petting it. The bunny was one of her favorite stuffed toys. Lately, she has been gravitating towards it more than usual. Harry figured it was because it was cute and soft.

“Mooo!” She threw her arms up, the bunny flying from her loose grip.

Harry chuckled and reached for the toy, it had went a bit far out of her reach. “Baby, m’afraid bunnies don’t say moo.”

“Moo! Moo.. moo, Da da.” She said back, very sure of her words.

“If you say so, baby cakes. Moo moo.” Harry made the bunny do a little dance, which made her giggle and reach for it. She tried copying him, which was just adorable to witness. “Speaking of cake.. my angel’s birthday is coming up, hm?”

She was now fully focused on shaking the bunny around, imitating the actions he was doing. It was cute to watch her make the toy dance and soft, quiet “moo’s” come from her mouth as she watched it move around in the air. She hit it against the bed a few times, giggling as she babbled nonsense sounds.

“You’re going to be the cutest one year old in the world. We’re getting you the prettiest cake, baby girl. All pink and sparkly for Dada’s princess.”

Vivian’s eyes lifted and she grinned, letting out a shriek that made her shoulders lift and her nose scrunch. Harry pressed his hand against her back as she began rocking from excitement. He wasn’t sure what specific word made her so happy, but he figured it was princess. Even though he knew she probably didn’t care what the word actually meant, she knew that her daddy called her that a lot. He figured it was one of her favorites.

“Yeah?” He nodded. “So excited for your party? I bet you’re gonna get all the presents in the world.”

“Da da.” She said as if she was trying to get his attention - little did she know, she already had that. “Da da da.”

He lifted his brows and smiled as she extended her arm, the bunny in her hand. He wasn’t sure if he needed to take it, but when she dropped it in front of him, he figured that’s what she wanted. He picked it up and sat it against his chest, making her giggle and fall forward on her arms.

“Da da!”

“Is this my bunny now?” He asked with a tone of shock in his voice. “Can’t believe you gave me your favorite bunny!”

“Da da!” She replied just as excitedly as before.

“Aw, my sweet baby.” He cooed as she crawled the very short distance to him and put her arm around his neck. Her face smushed against his, making him chuckle and put a tighter grip on her. “Dada’s got the cutest little bug, doesn’t he? My pretty girl. Love you so much, princess.”

“Da da da.” She pressed her open mouth to his cheek, slobber covering his skin instantly. Her version of a kiss was always so cute, even though it was messy.

“Thank you for the kissy, baby girl. Dada loves you the mostest.” He rubbed his nose against her cheek, making her squeal from the ticklish feeling.

Once she calmed down, he noticed that she was acting tired again. He lifted her above his head, making her grin and stick her tongue out. A bit of drool was pooling in the corner of her mouth, and he quickly put her down before it dripped onto him. She let out a little whine, but he could tell it wasn’t because of any distress. She was comfortable back on his chest, his arms holding her tight.

“Go back to sleep, angel baby. Dada won’t let you go.”

You took a very long bath, mostly because you wanted Harry to have time with the baby - but also because your bones were aching and you wanted to relax in the burning hot water. You dried off and wrapped the towel around your body before leaving the bathroom. You were greeted by a sleepy smile from Harry and a quiet mutter of your name from the baby, who was still laid on Harry’s chest.

“Going back to bed?” You asked while walking over to them.

Harry sighed. “Thought she would.. but she kept whispering for her Mama.”

“Whispering?” You lifted a brow, somewhat smiling back at him.

He patted her back gently. “Mhm. She was quiet for a bit, but once she started she didn’t really stop.”

“My poor baby.” You pouted to her, but she didn’t try to sit up. She seemed tired still, which was worrying you slightly because you thought she had slept good.

“She may be hungry. I asked if she wanted a ba-ba but she just said Mama back.”

Harry sat up with a groan, placing the baby on his lap. Her head fell against him, her hand gripping the skin over his stomach. It hurt a little, but he wouldn’t’ dare make her stop.

“I’ll nurse her in just a second.”

You walked over to the closet to grab something to put on, but as soon as you disappeared beyond the door, the baby started whining.

“Baby, hold on. Mama’s coming back.” Harry told her with a gentle sigh. “She’s gonna give you somethin’ to eat, promise.”

You could hear them both from the closet, but you didn’t try to rush back in there. You knew that the baby needed to learn how to cope with you not always being around her, and same with Harry not being there. She’s gotten a bit better, but she’s still learning. Harry kept a hand on her back, slowly rubbing in circles to soothe her, as he waited for you to return.

“See, there Mama is. Told you she was coming.” Harry said with a smile as you walked back into the room, now wearing a pair of cotton shorts. The t-shirt you planned to put on was hanging from your fingertips.

“Was she a good baby while I was gone, Dada?” You asked as you joined them on the bed, laying the shirt beside you to put on once you were done.

He chuckled while you scooped her from his lap. “She was a bit playful with me, yeah. Got sleepy though.”

“Sleepy? Hm, you don’t need to sleep til your nap later on, baby love.” You told her as you adjusted her in your arm and leaned against the headboard to relax your spine.

Harry watched as she latched onto your breast and curled her arm against her own chest. He wondered if she wanted to hold onto something, so he quickly grabbed the bunny she had given him earlier. You were about to question what he was doing, but he lifted her arm and laid the bunny down before you could get the words out.

“The world’s best Dada.” You whispered as his eyes caught yours.

He shook his head, grinning back. “She’s got the world’s best Mama, too.”

You hummed as he joined you against the headboard, his arm sliding around your back. His fingertips gently rubbed against your hip, which made your heart skip a beat. You missed him a lot in that way, missed the intimacy. It hadn’t been forever, just a few long days, since you last got to spend time with him alone. You thought maybe you could mention it today and he would do his best to make it happen. With the baby becoming very needy and his work on new music piling up, it was hard to find the time. You held out hope, he always came through for you.

A few minutes ticked by, and the thought was bugging you now. You swallowed gently and looked over at him. He had his phone in his hand, mindlessly scrolling on it as he waited for the baby to be done so you could officially start the day together. You licked your lips and glanced down at his legs. You missed the way it felt to have him resting his body on top of yours.

“Harry.” You mumbled, much quieter than you wanted to.

He hummed back, his eyes still on the screen. You looked back at the side of his face, admiring how handsome he was, even his profile. You felt a tug in your stomach, but you tried to ignore it. You were nervous, even though there was no reason to be.

“I think.. we should have some.. Mommy-Daddy time later.”

He clicked the button on the phone to lock it and dropped it on the bed. His head turned and his eyes met yours immediately. It happened so fast that you didn’t have time to look away. A thick layer of blush rose to your cheeks. You watched him lick his lips and gently bite on his cheek as he stared at you.

“Yeah?” He smirked softly. “I do miss you a lot.. been a few days.”

“Do you want to?”

He smacked his lips. “Of course!”

His eagerness made you laugh. You looked away from him and down to the baby, who was satisfied with her current arrangement. Harry gripped your waist, leaning into you so his lips could press against your jaw.

“Gonna love you on so good, babe.”

.

.

(a/n: someone requested some morning time dadrry content, so hope u enjoy! It’s a bit short, but I love this pairing + baby so don’t worry! More to come x)

taglist:

@walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @victoriasigaard @ariiscringe @harrystylesrealwifeong @harlowsgirl @lomllover @haniaaa04 @cherrymelonx @mydearestsunflower6 @oh-austin @coralsweetsharmony @eiffelmezarry @cupcakemachete @s0phlabrunette @fangirl125reader @luvonstyles

[pianocat939]

down with the sickness but the reader catches it. So like they’d take advantage of the reader being like super affectionate or whatever. Pls 🙏🙏

turtles are Yandere btw

Something tells me this is gonna have people feral-

Tw: pill-swallowing, mostly fluff.

You could only glance around the room you're in wearily, fatigue and sickness weighing down on your body like an elephant sitting on you. You feel a firm, but gentle tightness around your arms and waist, with something scaley rubbing against your neck.

"Oh poor you, you'll get better soon..."

With an evidently concerned expression, Raph holds you close in bed, his face nuzzling into your neck. You don't move, as you're too sick and exhausted to feel bothered by it; letting him cuddle you as much as he pleases, and you can't deny: it's comforting in your miserable state. Then the door opens and the rest of the brothers flood in, cradling items of all sorts in their arms.

"Hydration! Medicine! Food! Comfort! We have everything!" Donnie exclaims, his metallic spider arms clenching medicine bottles and water bottles within its claws. He marches to the bed, his eyes brows furrowed with a stern look, but you can tell he's panicking for your well-being. He motions Mikey over, who's holding a bowl of soup and seasoned bread.

"Now, my dearest divinity, we know pills aren't for everyone...So me and Donnie agreed it would be easier if we combined it with the soup to make it easier on your senses!" The youngest scooped a spoonful of the soup, and let Donnie place a pill on the spoon as well before hovering it before your mouth. You reluctantly opened your mouth, knowing it would only do you good to swallow the pill. Mikey then lets you swallow the soup and its contents, with the pill.

You can still feel the drug, but they were right, it is easier to swallow than taking it with just water: especially with the bits of vegetables. After slurping down the food, Mikey holds another spoonful and continues to utensil-feed you. You didn't protest, knowing he would only insist and beg for you to let him feed you.

Then you feel a damp, cool towel gently plopped down onto your forehead; the feeling makes you flinch in surprise, but you relax after a second. You hear a soft chuckle from above, and someone gives your head a few pats. "Ah, you're so cute~ Especially when you're letting me take care of you~" Leo comments with an amused tone, an eyebrow muscle lifting upwards slightly. He then proceeds to stroke your head in a pattern, his smirk morphing into a softer one.

"We're so happy you're letting us help you get better~ For me to provide for you..."

"Yes, for once I do agree with 'Nardo. It's praise-worthy you're letting us assist you in your time of illness."

"Mhm! I'm so happy to serve my divinity!"

"And when you're with us, we'll always be by your side...We'll always be ready to protect you and be there for you whenever you need it. Always..."

You're held closer to Raph's plastron as the four smiling at you with admiration.

And for once, you crack a slight smile back.

It's nice there's someone always there to care for you in your time of weakness, even if they're immoral criminals.

(I've been taking pills since like forever, but I know other people aren't used to it so for a- small courtesy I suppose I wrote the pill swallowing difficulty in there.)

[ohbo-ohno]

at a certain point it finally clicks with the reader that johnny's fully been put through the same thing that's happening to you, that he was 'captured' and 'domesticated' in the same way he and simon are attempting to 'tame' you. suddenly his complete and utter devotion to simon becomes somehow even more terrifying, like a walking, talking reminder that if you don't keep your head and wits about you, that you'll be just as brainwashed as he is. it sets back your 'progress' quite a bit, and neither of the boys know what happened or where it came from until simon finds the notebook you'd stolen from him and stashes in the walls, the first page reading IN CASE OF MY DEATH and the rest being detailed notes about your kidnapping, the torture you've experienced, and the sad, sad tale of brainwashed john mactavish

the words domesticated and tamed made my heart skip a beat.

it would take a while for you to put together the pieces. you've heard johnny say things like "it was hard for me too" and "it's easier when it makes sense" during punishments, but he's so enthusiatically into literally everything simon does, how could he not be here of his own free will??? it's also difficult for you to see him as a victim in the same way you see yourself as one - this is the man who took you and won't let you go, who holds you down while his partner whips you with a belt, who keeps you still when he wants to fuck you. how can he also have had those things done to him by simon?

and of course, you don't know the full story. simon and johnny really are a match made in heaven, a pair of freaks perfectly crafted for one another. simon may have forced the relationship with johnny, but there's nothing unwilling there.

but that's not how you see it - if you're unwilling, he must've been too, right?

flips your whole world on it's head for a while. you get real mean and cold to simon, but a little softer to johnny. not really nice, but you just... don't fight him as much. it's weird. that's not how you had behaved at any other point in the relationship - even after punishments, you were mad at johnny once you came back to yourself because he held you down for the whole thing. you've not, at any point, been agreeable for either one of them.

it clicks and makes sense when simon finds your little secret journal. he's offended by several parts: johnny is absolutely not his captive (hasn't been for a long time), you are absolutely not going to die, and you absolutely haven't been tortured. he can't really deny the brainwashing thing, even if he rationalizes it in his head as just showing johnny what he likes

he'd be sort of cautious about showing it to johnny. johnny has never once seen himself as victimized by simon, and simon doesn't want to upset him by showing how you apparently think of him. so he doesn't.

either waits til johnny leaves for a bit or talks to you while he's asleep. tells you harshly that you are not going to die, you are not being tortured, and nothing about his relationship with johnny is fucking sad. and you get all defensive, because you've gotten it into your head that johnny is a glance into your own future. you're snapping at him, and he finally reaches a point of detailing his whoooole relationship with johnny. their total co-dependence, their experiences in the military, the way simon forced johnny into a relationship but how fucking easy it was, how johnny didn't show even a hint of resistance to simon once he realized what was going on

you don't want to hear it. don't want to hear about how johnny isn't a victim. it makes you feel lonely, a little hopeless.

so after simon's done with his tirade, he scoops you into his arms and sighs at your little hiccupping sobs. tucks you under his chin, curls you up in his lap and strokes through your hair and down your back. whispers in your ear all the things he and johnny will do for you when you give in, how good things will be.

the whole ordeal is a big step in the process of breaking your brain. johnny never finds out - simon knows it wouldn't help anything, might even draw a wedge between the two of you. he can't have that

[isaac031]

More Bird fun! I don’t often remember it but mammal mouths and cheeks are so helpful! Like all the specific consonant sounds we can make! Mind blown! But to the matter at hand, the power to suction above water. ( fish have it easy to suction with water physics) Like it makes drinking so much easier! Birds gotta dunk the beak and scoop water up and tilt their head back. Swallowing food too! Like Philza is gonna miss his favorite mug. That and beaks get so messy eating !(tons of cute parrot photos after meals) That and birds mouths are much drier than mammals, less germs to. ( some researchers think this is why there are so few venomous mammals, our mouths are straight up nasty already). That and teeth are so good for cutting up food into manageable bits. Birds like crows gotta pull food apart with their foot pinning their meals. Dude is gonna feel like a toddler, gotta have the food cut up for him, can’t use his utensils gets his face messy.

I added this already but I did it with softer food but one of crow Philza's insecurities is eating in this form. Cause he makes a mess.

Phil is a bit insistent in eating manners cause noone want to see people chewing with their mouths open, so when he has to eat he tries to do it by himself.

[chaotic-vibes-only-please]

a request lol

yan! ej with an s/o who genuinely loves him back? like straight up wants to marry him and live with him forever

Yandere Eyeless Jack with an S/O Who Loves Him

A/N: This made me happy 😭🍵

He will be much softer with you. Jack doesn't see any reason to keep you locked in a single room, chained to a wall. And on top of that, he would never physically harm you because there's no need. But, he would absolutely not allow you to go outside of his cabin.

In fact, he'd be even more desperate and paranoid about keeping you out of harm's way. Jack will spend all of his free time with you, just so that he can keep his eye on you at all times. Expect normal medical check ups so he can make sure you're healthy. Any threat to you will be eliminated right away. Hell also force you to take care of yourself. Little things like drinking water everyday, taking vitamins, ect.

Wouldn't be surprised if he makes you wear a tracker of some kind. Maybe an ankle bracelet or something. Like seriously, you won't be allowed to step a foot outside unless he's right next to you.

On the softer side, Jack is genuinely happy. He's excited to spend the rest of his days by your side. When you admit your feelings for him, he scooped you up in his arms and spun you around. Basically, you bring out the "Good" in him.

But some things will stay the same. He'll demand you still wear his clothes so he can scent mark you as his. Jack will keep biting your skin to leave as many marks as possible.

He'll try his best to mimic a human wedding as best as he can. Jack's way out of touch with mortal traditions. His view of marriage is *cough cough* mating, where he can deliver a bite on your neck to claim you that way. Jack isn't the most romantic partner, but he's more willing to try and make an effort

Jack would for sure find you guys matching necklaces or bracelets. Matching Rings would be harder for him to gather since the sizing would be weird. And if you want vows, it'll be more like promises when he gives you the jewelry. It would be subtle though, because Jack prefers nothing too shiny

Would have a little "ceremony" by a pretty spot in the forest where you do all of it. The vows, exchanging jewelry, and celebrating . It's a cute and very intimate setting where you two show your love for each other.

He helps you make his cabin feel more like home. Jack would let you decorate however you want. After all, he's horrid with interior design and could use your touch. Basically his goal is to make it domestic/homy and to your wants.

In conclusion, it makes his life easier overall and might even help bring out the better qualities he has. He gets to love you and you get to love him. That's all Jack could really ever ask for.

[twst-drabbles]

Jack 12

Summary: You have a little stalker tailing you after you left the cemetery. The little creature, the church grim, the spirit of fog, follows you to keep you safe.

(Requests are still open. Two more slots! Get that angst request out. Anyways, have this silly idea that entered my head at the ungodly hours of the night and dawn.)

The forest was a difficult thing to traverse for a spirit as small as Jack. At the start, he was born on a pleasant hillside place by a lake, and his next home was in a clear cut cemetery. Both of these places didn’t have the confusing cluster of tress and roots with paths narrow and inconsistent. It’s easier for Jack to become a cloud of fog, but he never manages to stick the landing quite right.

So, what is a creature such as he doing in a place that he was clearly not familiar with? Well, simply put, Jack had a goal. And said goal was walking further and further away from him with the greatest of ease, with five little plant nymphs that were having even easier time keeping up.

A human’s senses are dulled to the sounds of nature around them. A farmer would have an easier time knowing what’s off and what’s not, but even that doesn’t compare to the razor sharp instincts of animals and magical pets. Jack’s ears were raised, his tail still and puffed. The plant nymphs, especially the smaller red and blue one, were constantly looking around themselves.

The deeper you went, the softer and more muffled the noises of nature became, but they were never silenced. No, they blended. Tweets of birds warbled out into rushes of leaves. The crack of a rotted bark piece echoed into the breath of a flame.

As the sounds became nothing more than a messy thrum of its former self, the trees and roots became more and more twisted. Natural juts of strong roots began to resemble gnarled grips into the ground, spiraling and digging into the dirt as though trying to become its parasite. The leaves, as you walked deeper in, grew bigger than the last until they all consumed the last of the sun’s rays.

The forest was quiet. The forest was hungry. And yet, you and your little group kept walking in deeper, as if you knew your goal was somewhere beyond.

Jack’s chest huffed and puffed, but something kept him from making any noise. Perhaps he knew if he was too loud, he’ll catch the attention of something. He dispersed his form into fog once more, looping under a large root to close the distance, but not quite enough to catch your or the plant’s attention.

However, when he solidified once more, his foot got caught on a stray rock. He didn’t yelp, but something gurgled in his throat. He rolled forward when he landed on the ground. Little Jack did not catch his balance in time, for he crashed right into your ankle.

Only then was there pure silence. The lingering echoes all held their breathes.

Then you sighed and corroded noise returned, just the slightest bit more distinguishable than before. You reached down and scooped up Jack, who was trying to shake dirt from his eyes.

“I was wondering who was following us. What are you doing all the way out here? Didn’t you want to stay in the garden we left behind?”

The abandoned cemetery was nothing short of a paradise of glorious flowers and lush nature. Not even a flood would be able to wash away the land Jack wanted to protect. But…

Well, the flowers you planted were beautiful. The glossy leaves and sturdy stems were perfect for Jack to run through. The headstones and those that sleep no longer have to worry about being left alone. Nature has taken this place, as as such, Jack no longer has to linger. He can leave it behind, knowing it won’t simply be taken by the floods.

That’s why he chased you.

But Jack was a prideful little critter. His face pinched up, huffing out as though that will help him regain his cool. The plant nymphs, all looking up to you, knew better. And so did you.

Either way, when Jack puffed himself onto you shoulder, you didn’t fight it. Though the red and blue plant nymphs certainly squeaked a complaint out.

“Well, I guess we have a new addition. Welcome, Jack.”

[kingkatsuki]

Your older Bakugo scenario is give me so many thot rn!!! I think!!! That he has a strength kink bc even at his age he's in top shape and he loves randomly scooping you up and spinning you around just to make you giggle and cling to him. Loves manhandling you in bed and seeing how much you trust his steady hands to move your body, giving him 0 resistance.

(+don't even think about saying some shit about being too heavy/hurting him bc then he'll be so insulted like "Hey, I'm not that old! I literally threw a car at a villain last week!")

OMG BUT IMAGINE you’re saying you’re too heavy because you think you’re fat but he thinks it’s a dig at him because he doesn’t see you that way at all, and he thinks you think he’s weaker in his old age. Tears in my eyes wahhhh.

I love the idea of him with a little extra pudge because you just round out a lot when you’re older, so he’s softer but still full of strength and power.

But then he gets insecure with all these new sidekicks and Pro’s coming up because he knows he won’t be number two forever, so you have to convince him that it’s okay to take it easier and relax a little🥺 and now he has you, he’s got a reason to do that?

[foundtherightwords]

All Our Yesterdays - Chapter 1

Pairing: Ralph (Timewasters) x OFC

Summary: Thu, a museum archivist, only wants to escape her dull life in 21st-century Hanoi. The last thing she expects is to end up in 1929 Indochina via a time-traveling elevator and cross paths with Ralph, an Englishman on the run from the French Foreign Legion. Romance blossoms between them, but in a colonized country, unrest is always looming on the horizon, and Thu must decide if she wants to stay with Ralph in the past or return to the safety of the future.

A/N: In the show, Ralph ends up somewhere in Morocco or Algeria (judging by this photo - thank you, @quinnkeerys, for doing the Lord's work), but I'm more familiar with French Indochina, and a Legion regiment was stationed there at the time, so I transferred him there to make the research easier for me.

A few notes on the Vietnamese names/pronunciation:

- Thu is pronounced like "too", but with a softer "t" sound. - The "D/d" letter in Vietnamese is pronounced as "z", so for example, "áo dài" (long tunic, the national costume of Vietnam) is pronounced like "ao zai". "Đ/đ" is pronounced as "d". It's confusing, I know. - For easier reading, I left the diacritics out of the characters' names (Hoang instead of Hoàng, Phuong instead of Phương, Lien instead of Liên.) The place names and other nouns are kept intact though. If they are difficult to read or mess up the format, let me know and I'll take them out.

Also, I only watched the first 2 episodes of "Timewasters" (the ones featuring Ralph), so I had no idea what is canon about the time machine.

Warnings: outdated/period-typical attitudes, mentions of war, mentions of pregnancy and abortion (involving a supporting character), some angst (it's mostly fluff but you know me, I can't do without angst altogether), some smut (non-explicit)

Chapter warnings: outdated attitudes about women/marriage

Chapter word count: 3.3k

Chapter 1

"Thu, are you even listening to me?" Hoang's irritated voice brought Thu out of her reverie. With difficulty, she turned her eyes away from the vendor selling tofu pudding—tào phớ—outside. The vendor's hand was moving in a blur, scooping silky tofu from the big container into smaller cups and pouring sugar water on top. She was remembering how, in her childhood, such vendors would use a big mussel shell as a scoop instead of the ubiquitous aluminum ones now, and how the tào phớ of childhood seemed to taste sweeter, fresher. Now she was struck by a sudden craving. It was the first of September, but summer was still holding on stubbornly, and the air-conditioned interior of the coffee shop felt close, stuffy. A bowl of cool, slightly sweet, jasmine-infused tào phớ would just hit the spot.

"You want some tào phớ?" she asked Hoang.

"What?" Her boyfriend stared blankly back. She nodded toward the vendor, and Hoang made a face. "No. And you shouldn't either. It's not sanitary, you know. I wish the city would just ban all street vendors. So untidy."

Thu rolled her eyes. "But they're such an integral part of Hanoi!" she protested. "It's been that way for hundreds of years and will continue to be."

"I doubt it," Hoang said callously. "Already there are fewer of them after the pandemic. People's buying and eating habits are changing. Soon they'll be gone, just you wait."

Thu sat back, chagrined. They had had this argument often enough for her to know it was a losing battle. She shouldn't have said anything at all.

"Anyway," Hoang continued, "we're good for this Saturday?"

"What's happening Saturday?"

"My parents coming to talk to yours."

"About what?"

"About the wedding, what else? Have you not listened to a word I said at all?"

The truth was that she had tuned out the moment Hoang mentioned his mother had been to see a fortune-teller. It was exhausting, the way his mother always consulted fortune-tellers before doing anything, so after a while, Thu stopped listening. But now, the mention of "wedding" sent a chill through her, as she realized what it could mean.

"Wedding?" she repeated, trying to hide her rising panic.

Hoang let an exasperated breath out through his nose. "Yes, our wedding. Mom is determined to have it before the Lunar New Year."

"Before the Lunar New Year..." Thu did some mental calculations. "But that's only five months away!"

"So what? Plenty of time to plan a wedding."

"But why the rush?"

"Because you're turning twenty-six next year, and it's not an auspicious age to get married," Hoang explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"So let's wait until I turn twenty-seven then! Or twenty-nine!"

"Come on, we are going to get married anyway, what's the difference a year or two going to make?"

It makes all the difference in the world! Thu wanted to shout, before stopping herself in time. She and Hoang had been together for four years, and it had always been understood that they would eventually get married, though they had never officially discussed it. And now, when Hoang finally brought it up, she realized, with horror, that she did not want to get married. Not yet. Perhaps even not at all. There was so much she wanted to do.

"I want to get my Master's first," she said.

"You can do that after we're married," Hoang replied breezily.

Easier said than done. After they got married, there would be kids (When are you going to have a baby?), responsibilities, and more kids (Two is always better than one, you know!), and before she knew it, her life would settle into monotonous drudgery, rushing home after work to put dinner on the table, dropping off squalling kids at daycare and picking them up again, arguing about what primary school to enroll them in, and on and on and on. Try as she might, she could picture none of the marital bliss people often boasted about. She shuddered and reached for her pendant, twisting it between her fingers as she always did whenever she was nervous.

"Actually... my parents might have... plans this Saturday," she said, trying to stall.

"Really?" Hoang raised an eyebrow. "But when my mom called, your mom said it was all good."

Thu's stomach churned in anger. Her mother always did that, deciding what was best for her without asking what she wanted. "Looks like they got it all under control," she said coldly.

Hoang didn't hear, or pretended that he didn't hear the frosty note in her voice. He leaned back and took a sip of his iced coffee. "Yep, I figured, moms have a lot more experience in this kind of thing, so why not let them take charge? They're happy, we don't have to worry about all the trivial details; it's a win-win."

Thu clamped down a bitter retort. It wasn't that Hoang didn't make an effort in their relationship; he remembered her birthday and their anniversary and other important dates, but he was always very matter-of-fact about them. His gifts were the practical kind, and he never got her flowers, saying there was no point since they were going to die anyway. Anything else would just be a "trivial detail" to him. She appreciated his pragmatism, but once in a while, she wished they could have been a little more spontaneous. It was like Hoang was afraid of being seen as sappy. She knew if he had it his way, he wouldn't even have a wedding at all. They would just go to the city hall and sign the marriage certificate and that would be that.

"Where are we going to live, after we get married?" she asked.

"With my parents," Hoang said, the "of course" plain in his tone even though he didn't actually say it out loud.

"You know I don't like it when so many generations live under the same roof," Thu said. Hoang lived with his parents and grandparents. She knew it was still the norm, but the very idea set her teeth on edge.

"What's the big deal?" Hoang shrugged. "In your own words, it's been like that for hundreds of years, and it's much more convenient. You know, for someone who loves history, you sure are picky about which part of it you love."

His words stung. "Just because I love something, doesn't mean that I'm blind about it!" she snapped, then gathered up her things and stormed out of the coffee house before Hoang could say another word. A bit of an overreaction, perhaps, but she was looking for any excuse to escape further discussion of the wedding. She wasn't brave enough to tell him that she didn't want it, and even if she did tell him, she wasn't even sure if she could get through to him.

That evening, over dinner at home, Thu tried to broach the subject with her parents first. If she could get them on her side, then maybe she could convince Hoang to push the wedding back a few years.

Her mom wasn't having any of it.

"But you two are going to get married anyway," she said, maddeningly echoing Hoang's words. "I don't see why you'd want to wait."

"We don't have our own place yet," Thu said. In this, she knew her parents would support her. No parents want their daughter to have to live with the in-laws. "And I want to get a Master," she added hopefully.

"What's the point? It's not going to raise your salary at the museum, is it?"

"It'll allow me to get a teaching position at the university."

Her mom snorted. "And their salary is better, I suppose? Your dad and I can lend you the money to buy your own place."

Thu turned to her dad in dismay. "Dad?"

"Mom's right," her dad said, his face hidden behind his phone. "We won't charge you interest."

"If you don't want to be in debt, then take that job with Cousin Minh," her mom continued. "He's been calling again. He says they can really use someone with your English skills, and they pay very well. You'll save enough for an apartment in no time."

"Mom, he sells illegal IDs!"

"Nonsense. He runs a visa agency."

"Yes, which includes selling illegal IDs. He's lucky he's not getting arrested. I am not going to work for him."

"Ooh, if you're getting married and moving out, can I have your room?" her younger brother, Tung, piped up.

Thu dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, frustrated. There would be no help from this quarter.

"Look," her mom said in a softer voice, "we just want you to settle down. Hoang is a nice boy. He has a good job. It's the right time to get married. If you wait longer, something else may come up."

Settle down. Get a job. Get married. Have kids. The same path as everybody else. Deviate from that, and you'd risk disapproval and pity. What will happen to you? Who will take care of your parents in their old age? Who will take care of you in the future? And of course, that was the sting. Hoang might be dull, but he was safe, stable, predictable. She could imagine a future with him, even if that future was not particularly bright.

Thu went into her room and took refuge in her history books. At least with them, she knew how the stories all turned out; it didn't matter if the endings were good or bad. Perhaps that was why she loved history so much. There was none of this worrying about the future in history.

***

Those gnawing thoughts were still going around her head the next day at work, grating on her nerves and making her snappish with everybody. It was a slow day. Usually, she relished days like this, when she could settle into the backrooms of the museum, going over the archives, or walking through the echoing halls, looking at the artifacts, pretending to be a visitor, but today, the quietness of the museum felt stifling, its familiarity stale. It probably didn't help that she was stuck doing paperwork, cataloging the findings of a recent dig just outside of Hanoi. Sometimes, this job felt futile, like there was nothing else they could discover about the past. Vietnam's history is a bewildering patchwork of myths and half-preserved facts, destroyed by centuries of war and natural disasters and just plain old bad weather, impossible to make sense of, and Thu had never felt the futility of that task more acutely than she did that day, while logging broken pieces of roof tiles and ceramics into the computer. She was glad when, near the end of the day, her supervisor asked her to leave off the work and deliver some invitations for the museum's upcoming seminar to the nearby Institute of French Culture.

Leaving her motorbike at the museum, Thu walked the short distance from behind the Grand Opera House down Tràng Tiền Street. It was rush hour; by the time she got her bike out of the museum's parking lot and found a parking space near the Institute, she would've already gotten there on foot. The concrete pavement still retained some of the day's heat, and the currents of roaring cars and bikes and their constant honking only added to the warmth, but already, there was a slight crispness to the air that whispered of autumn, of moon cakes and green rice, of lantern processions. As Thu wove her way through the traffic, she imagined herself as an office girl from the French School of the Far East, which used to be in the same building as her museum, walking to the IDEO Printing House, where the Institute now stood, on some errand...

Her phone buzzed, cutting off her daydreaming. She glanced at the screen and groaned inwardly. A text from Hoang:

Confirmed with my mom, we're coming to your house 10 AM Saturday. Prepare lunch. Something not too heavy.

The bossy tone of the text pricked at her. He couldn't even say "please" at the end! Was this a taste of how their marriage was going to be, with Hoang dictating the terms and Thu following obediently? To hell with that. And if Hoang and her mother refused to listen, then she would find a way to make them listen...

Without stopping to think, Thu logged into her mother's account, still remembering the password from when she set it up for her. She scrolled through until she found the string of messages between her mother and Hoang's, and fired up a text:

I'm very sorry, but we're going to have to cancel the plan on Saturday. There's an emergency.

Would that be enough? No. Better make it clear. She added, Also, to be honest, we can't afford a January wedding. It's too soon.

Better make it double clear then. And I think Thu and Hoang can benefit from having more time to think. They're both too young to—

No. She deleted the last sentence. It would be too obvious. Of course, it would become obvious who sent the text if Hoang's mother decided to call hers, but she was hoping, if nothing else, this would at least get their attention and allow her a chance to really talk about what she wanted.

Thu went into the Institute and dropped the invitations off at the main office on the fifth floor. Her head throbbed from the heat and the stress. While waiting for the elevator, she reached for her stash of emergency M&Ms in her backpack. She just popped a handful into her mouth when her phone rang, shrilly, accusingly. She glanced at the watch on her phone. Her subterfuge lasted a total of eight minutes.

"Hi, Mom," she answered, resigning herself to a dressing-down.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Her mom sounded furious. "You sent a message to Hoang's mother to cancel the plan on Saturday, didn't you?"

"I did, yes."

"Why?!"

"Because I don't want to get married, Mom. Not yet. I've been trying to say this but nobody—"

"Do you have any idea how humiliated I was? I couldn't tell her that I didn't send that message! I had to say there was a misunderstanding and reschedule for Sunday."

"Mom—"

"That's final! I'm done discussing this with you!"

Her mom hung up. Thu sighed. Why won't they just listen?!

The elevator arrived. The door slid open. There was already a man inside, a Westerner. Thu eyed him curiously. He looked to be in his sixties and was terribly unkempt. Despite the heat, he was dressed in a long, dark coat. His pale, straggly hair stuck out from under a woolen hat, and he had a scruffy white beard. If she didn't know better, she would've said he was homeless, but she had seen plenty of backpackers looking far worse on the streets of Hanoi.

"Going down?" she asked in English, indicating with her hand.

The man grinned, showing a mouthful of rotten teeth. Thu recoiled slightly. But it was getting late, and she was exhausted. She just wanted to go home, avoid her mother, have a long, cool shower, and curl up in bed with her books. So she shrugged and stepped into the elevator, carefully reaching around the man to press "1".

As she stepped back, Thu noticed him eyeing her bag of M&Ms hungrily, practically bending down to sniff it.

"Would you, uh, like some?" she asked.

The man gave her another rotten-toothed grin and snatched the whole bag out of her hand.

Before Thu could even protest, the phone rang again. Hoang this time. "Did your mom just reschedule our meeting for Sunday?" he asked.  

Thu wondered how he managed to make it sound so formal, like a business meeting. But she was in no mood for arguing. "I tried to cancel it, but she didn't want to," she said in a defeated voice.

"You did what—what the hell?"

"We're too young to get married! I'm only twenty-five and you're only twenty-seven, for Heaven's sake! Why is everybody in such a rush for us to get married? Is there an old relative about to die? Are you about to die?"

"Don't joke about that!"

"I'm not joking!"

She heard Hoang take a deep breath. "I don't understand your hang-up about the age thing," he said. "It's a perfectly reasonable age to get married. You know people got married in their teens back in the day—"

Thu wanted to scream. The fact that he thought this was about "the age thing" proved, all too clearly, that he didn't understand her doubt and her fear at all. "Stop talking about 'back in the day'," she hissed. "You have no idea what it was like 'back in the day'! If I could, I would go live 'back in the day' just to get away from all of you!"

"If this is how you insist on behaving, then maybe we should just call the whole thing off!"

"Good!"

"Did you hear me? I'm not just talking about our wedding, I'm talking about us! If you do this, it's over!"

"That's the best news I heard all day!"

She hung up, and, for good measure, turned the phone off and threw it into the depth of her backpack. She didn't want to give Hoang a chance to tell her that he didn't mean it, that it was just a heat of a moment thing...

Next to her, the homeless-looking man was munching on the M&Ms—her M&Ms!—and fumbling with the keypad. Then he turned and handed her a folded piece of paper.

Thu opened the paper and saw a few lines of Vietnamese scrawled on it:

RULES FOR TIME TRAVELERS

Don't kill anyone

Don't impregnate or get impregnated

Don't touch any animals

Try to blend in, and have fun!

Mystified, she looked up, but the man was gone. Before she could even wonder about his disappearance, a persistent beeping coming from the keypad caught her attention. The elevator was shaking.

Great. Just great. The elevator was breaking down, and now she was going to get stuck in it. Just the cherry on top of an already perfect day.

The shaking intensified. A flashing light made her look up, and she couldn't believe her eyes.

The elevator was not breaking down.

It was breaking up.

As in disintegrating. Above her and all around her. The debris was getting sucked into some terrifying vortex of dark clouds laced with lightning, while the beeping continued, piercing in her ears, and all the numbers on the keypad started flickering in a dizzying sequence. Thu had a horrible sensation, similar to when she was little and had a high fever, of being stretched long, as long as possible without snapping, while at the same time getting compressed into something tiny, tinier than she could ever imagine. She sank to her knees, wrapped her arms around her head, and screamed.

Then, as abruptly as it started, everything stopped. The elevator dinged and came to a halt.

Thu cautiously opened her eyes. She was still in one piece. She was still in the elevator, which was in one piece as well.

Perhaps it had all been in her imagination. There had been something wrong with the elevator, certainly, but in her stress and fatigue, she had imagined it to be something much worse. And the man... he must have gotten out when she wasn't looking.

Letting out a breath of relief, she fixed the straps of her backpack more firmly on her shoulders and exited the elevator.

And immediately realized that something wasn't right.

Chapter 2

A/N: This first chapter is just a setup, so please bear with me. Ralph will appear in the next chapter, which is coming tomorrow! Also, as usual, if you want to be added to the tag list, let me know.

[middleearthpixie]

After the Fire ~ Chapter Fifteen

Fandom: The Hobbit - Post BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a grievously wounded Thorin is brought back to the kingdom of Erebor, which is still mostly in ruins. Although he’s survived the wounds he received at the end of Azog’s blade, his recovery is far from complete. Grief, regret, anger, all are making his journey that much more difficult and the physical recovery isn’t quite the most difficult challenge he faces.

Jasna Stoneham is no stranger to loss, as she is a survivor of Smaug’s wrath upon Esgaroth. When she is asked to help the dwarves healers of Erebor, her instinct is to say no, but she needs the job, and so agrees to it. However, no one told her that of all the patients, she would be responsible for the king himself, Thorin Oakenshield. 

Unfortunately, the road to recovery isn’t necessary a smooth one, but if there’s one thing Thorin will learn, it’s that Jasna is just as stubborn as he is and for every step back he takes, she is there to push him three steps forward. And Jasna will soon find out that there is a gentle, softer side to the dwarf king, one that very few people have ever seen and one he fights to keep hidden from her as well. But like his recovery, that is also easier said than done. 

Thorin finds Jasna out in the courtyard, on a snowy night… 

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Jasna Stoneham

Characters: Jasna, Thorin

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,018

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @quiall321

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

Jasna couldn’t sleep. In the days before Smaug, when sleep mocked her, she would walk to the northern end of Esgaroth and sit on the lowest dock and just watch the water. She loved the way the moonlight sparkled across the surface, imagined that surface glittered with diamonds and all she’d need do was reach in and scoop out a handful and all of their problems would be solved. Papa wouldn’t need to pray for a good haul of fish. Mama could sleep late and bake all of the cakes and pastries she desired, for baking was her passion, if only she had the energy after a long day on her feet in the market. She used to talk of opening her own shop, but life had a way of mocking her plans at every turn.

But of course, no diamonds dotted the lake’s surface. And the waters that fed her family stole her father from them as well. By the time Smaug came, her mother had sold their last things of value to fund Jasna’s education. With or without his destruction, the tiny Stoneham family would have had to rebuild their lives one way or another. Smaug’s attack only hastened things.

Her breath rose in a frosty cloud as she stood out in the middle of the courtyard, snow swirling silently about her, settling in her hair, on her cheeks. When the snow stopped and the moon broke through the clouds, the ground would sparkle, just as the lake’s surface did. Only now she knew there were no diamonds to be had. She didn't mind being out in the cold, even if it made her shiver now.

“Jasna?”

Thorin’s voice slit softly through the silence and she turned to see him just beyond the doorway, cane in hand, snow already frosting his hair, which fluttered this way and that on the light breeze. “Your Majesty? Is something the matter?”

“I—I’m not certain, to be honest. It might be.” He came out into the courtyard, stopping only feet from her. 

“Your wounds?” She stepped closer.

“No. They are fine. A little sore, still, but otherwise all right.”

“Then what?”

“About last night, I—”

“You needn’t a-apologize,” she said, her voice barely a whisper as she shook her head. 

“No, I wasn't about to. I’d be lying if I told you I was sorry for kissing you, because I am not sorry for doing it.”

That was not what she expected him to say. Her heart sped up. Her mouth went dry. She looked up at him, so imposing in the soft darkness surrounding them. “I’m n-n-not sure I understand.”

He closed the space between them. “I am not at all sorry I kissed you last eve,” he rumbled, his voice low and growly, “and all I’ve been able to think about all day is kissing you again.”

As he spoke, his huge hands came up to curve against her face, his thick thumbs brushing along her cheeks. A gentle smile played at his lips as he murmured, “How are you not frozen?”

“I-I don’t know. I just… I don’t feel the c-c-cold right now.” She brought her hands up, let her fingers curl about his wrists, which were too thick for her fingers to meet. “Your Majesty, I—”

“If you wish me to leave you be,” he whispered, his eyes searching hers, “you need only say so and I will.”

“N-no,” she shook her head, “th-that w-w-won’t be necessary.”

His lips just brushed hers, stealing the breath from her lungs as he whispered, “Good.”

His kiss came softly, his lips pressing gently to hers. He slid an arm about her waist, pulled her flush against him, and bent her body back ever so slightly. Ever so slowly, she wound her arms about his neck and as his lips parted and his tongue swept along hers, she tightened her hold on him.

His kiss lasted an eternity and ended in the blink of an eye, his lips soft and slow, his tongue lazy and teasing. She tried to be mindful of his healing scars, but he wouldn’t allow a hint of space between them, his body solid and thick against hers. 

When he drew back, he was breathless, his eyes heavy-lidded and swirling with desire she could just barely make out. His hands skimmed down over her backside, curving against it to gently squeeze, then he tightened his grip and bent to slash his mouth over hers once more.

Fire filled his kiss, his hands weren’t still on her backside, but kneaded the cheeks he grasped, kneaded and pulled her hard against him. She shivered as they made intimate contact, as his heavy woolen trousers couldn't hide her effect on him. Her eyes snapped open at the subtle, yet insistent pressure of him growing hard against her. It took her by utter surprise, as she never dreamed she would ever have that effect on a man. Boys rarely looked twice at her—she was short and not particularly shapely, with a wild mane of red curls that refused to behave. Her nose was too long, her face too angular. 

And yet, this man responded to her with only a kiss. 

Thorin broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers as he whispered, “I’ve thought of nothing but this all day, Jasna.”

Her name was a low, seductive purr on his lips, one that sent a gentle shiver along her spine and made her heart beat that much faster. “I was surprised when I returned from Dale to find you gone.”

“Óin surprised me as well. But, he’s right. I’m no longer in need of being under his watchful eye.” He drew back, but didn't relinquish his hold on her. His thumbs brushed lightly along her back, his eyes held hers. 

“S-so, where d-d-do we go from here?”

“I don’t know.” He offered up a sheepishly boyish smile. “I didn't think much beyond this moment, to be honest.”

“Óin would be furious if he kn-knew I was here w-w-with you.”

“I’m the king,” he replied softly. “He does not outrank me.”

“He does outrank me, th-though.”

“A minor detail.” 

He bent to her again and this time, she lost herself in his kiss, in the sensations his lips, his tongue, his hands on her body sent screaming through her. The air lost its chill, and it seemed as if steam should rise between them as the snow came down harder still. His cane settled against her, resting against her thigh as he bent her back ever so slightly once more and all but devoured her lips.

This time, when he broke the kiss, it was to sweep his lips along her neck, her head lolling to the side as he did so. Tingles rushed through her, beginning where those soft lips touched her to ripple through her entire body, to set a spark to the kindling inside her and bring it to life. It began as a gentle warmth, but quickly erupted into a crackling heat, one that had her slipping her hands beneath his tunic to skim up along his bare back. His skin was warm and firm, solid beneath her fingertips. No give to the muscle anywhere. As she slid her hands up, she encountered rises and ridges she assumed were scars from battle, although she didn’t think the Battle of the Five Armies was responsible for all of them.

Without thinking, she let her fingernails scrape against him and to her surprise, he shuddered against her, his, “Oooh…” a low, breathy kiss against her neck. 

She did it again and this time, he trembled against her and his hips rocked to meet hers. That part of him had grown further, and curiosity swept through her, guided her hand down to the front of his trousers, where she let her fingers just graze along the bulge that wasn't there a few minutes ago.

He moaned softly, arching to meet her touch, and when she curved her hand against him, he whispered, “Jasna…” into her neck.

His hand slid down along her thigh, then back up, along the curve of her waist up. It slowed along her ribs and she held her breath, waiting to see if he’d slide it higher. She wished she were braver, that she was one of those women confident enough to curl her fingers about his wrist and guide his hand to her breast, for she almost ached for him to cup one, to knead it the way he did her backside. 

Then, he did.

He hesitated, as if afraid she’d clout him for taking such liberties, but then his hand grazed over her ribs and his palm just barely grazed the outer curve of her left breast. His thumb swept over her nipple and she couldn’t hold back her sigh as it tingled sharply, tightening into an oh-so-sensitive nub that he then circled with a slow, teasing thumb. The tingle spread outward, flooding her body, growing stronger with each lazy pass. Those tingles were sweet and heady, and without thinking, she arched her back to press her breast harder into his hand. 

He kissed down along her neck, into the slight scoop of her neckline, tugging it down as he moved into the shadow of her breasts. His lips swept along the inner curve of the one he so wonderfully teased, and for one wild moment, she thought he might ease it from the confines of her shift and the thought of his doing so filled her with equal parts thrill and fear. No man had ever seen her breasts bared, and snow still fell, but somehow, she didn't think she’d even feel it, just as she no longer seemed to feel the cold. 

But, he did no such thing. Instead, he slid his hand down and around her waist to pull her flush against him once more, and then kissed his way back to her lips. He swept a kiss along her cheekbone, over her ear, where he murmured, “Mesmel…”

Her head spun wildly, her, “What… what does that mean?” barely audible over the roar of blood in her ears. 

He cradled her against him, his lips soft and tender as they came upon hers once more. This time, there was no fire behind his kiss, only gentle passion. And when she was able to think clearly again, he whispered, “We should go back inside before you freeze.”

“I don’t think I’d feel it even.”

He laughed softly, wrapping her in his arms, pulling her flush against him once more. He pressed a kiss into her temple, took the cane once more and said, “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see.”

“Thorin.”

“Ah… finally… you’re using my name.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled as he reached for her hand, swallowed it up in his huge paw, and as they met, heat swept through her once more. He led her back inside, moving slowly, but steadily. 

Erebor’s heating system was running at almost full capacity now and the warmth was welcomed after the cold chill of standing out in a snowfall. Thorin led her through the infirmary, moving quietly until they reached the threshold of the Great Hall.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“Thorin.”

He grinned. “Just be quiet so we don’t wake anyone.”

“You’re the king. How m-much trouble could y-you get in?”

He brought her hand up to brush the back of it with his lips. “Let’s not find out.”

He led her down the corridor and she knew where they were, whispering, “The kitchens?”

“I thought you might like something warm to drink.”

“What are you about, Your Majesty?”

He gave her hand a squeeze. “What? I did. It’s cold out there and you were shivering. Did you think I didn't feel it?”

In the kitchen, he let her to the long, battered work table. “Sit. And I’ll make us tea.”

“Do you kn-know h-how to make tea?”

“Actually,” he grinned at her over his shoulder, “I do. It’s just… well… sometimes starting a fire gives me trouble.”

She came up along side him, taking the flint and steel from him. “I c-c-can show you.”

He gestured for her to do just that. “Show me how, mesmel.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means show me.”

She just looked up at him. Somehow, she didn't think that was what it meant at all, but she didn't want to argue with him, so she crouched at the grate and struck the steel against the flint. Once. Twice. And the third time was the charm. A few minutes later, and the fire was lit and coming to life slowly.

Peering up, it was to find Thorin gazing down at her with an odd look in his eye, something that at first glance, seemed to be awe. “What?”

“You. You are unique, Miss Stoneham.” He crouched alongside her, taking the flint and steel from her. “You’ve brains, talent, and you’re beautiful besides.”

A pleasant heat stung her cheek at his whispered words. No one ever told her she was beautiful. She was teased for her stammer, for her wild mass of untamed curls, for her lack of height, lack of curves—you name it, someone poked fun at it.

“I don’t know if anyone would agree with that assessment.”

“They are fools, then.” He caught her hand once more to draw her up alongside him, even if he rose slowly. In the soft glow of the fire, his eyes glittered like slivers of ice, only without the chill behind them. They were beautiful pale blue crystals beneath heavy brows and without thinking, she leaned in and rose onto her toes to press her lips to his.

He slid an arm about her waist, gently pulling her up against him. When she drew back, he bent to nuzzle her, then drew away from her to set the kettle over the fire. 

The tea did much to pull the chill from her bones and as they sat at that long work table, side by side, Jasna realized she felt comfortable with him, and without thinking, she leaned her head against his solid shoulder. 

“H-how long do you think it will t-t-take to finish the renovations here?”

“Here? Or Erebor as a whole?”

“Erebor as a whole.” 

He looked about the spacious, somewhat cluttered kitchen. “Years, if I’m being completely honest with myself. Smaug was here for a century and a half and there is a lot of damage from what I’ve seen.”

“And how much h-h-have you seen?”

“Enough to know this might not be finished in my lifetime.”

“But it might be.”

“It might.” He lowered his mug. “But I’m not much of an optimist.”

“I cannot im-imagine why.”

He stared at her for a long moment and she wondered if perhaps she shouldn’t have been quite so flippant. 

“What do you know of me?” 

“I know you were here when Sm-Sm-Smaug came. I know you blame yourself for everything that l-l-led up to the Battle of the Five Armies, f-f-for the dragon sickness. For what ha-happened to Fíli and Kíli.” She let her hand come to rest on his arm, her fingers gently tightening about it. “And some of it I s-s-suppose could be yours, but not all of it. I also know that you are kind. And f-f-fair. You treat everyone as y-y-your equal. And your p-p-people respect you. They remain l-loyal to you. I’d even say they l-l-love you.”

He sighed softly, looking over at her. “I owe my life to you, you know. To you and Óin and Narnerra.”

“I was only in the r-r-r-room. I did very little to help you.”

“You did enough.”

She leaned her head against his arm once more. “I should return to my chambers. Dawn will be here very soon and I’ve no desire to face Óin’s wrath again.”

“Might I steal you away for a while tomorrow?”

“I might have some free time, depending on when you were thinking.”

He smiled. “I would like you to have dinner with me.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes. I’ve seen you eating alone in your room since you arrived. I would like you to join me.”

“In the Great Hall?”

“That’s where we take our meals, yes.”

“You wish for me to join you, at your table, for dinner?”

He smiled. “You sound surprised.”

“Well, I am surprised.”

“Why?”

“Well, you’re the king, for st-starters.”

“Ah-ah, you’ve not been stammering and I’ll not let you start doing so again.”

She smiled. “Thorin.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Thorin.”

“What?”

“Are you mad?”

“I was for a while, but I am no longer, no.” He bent and brushed her lips with his. “So, will you? You might as well say yes, for I will only keep asking until I wear you down.”

“Will I have to dress formally? I have nothing appropriate if so.”

“Wear what you are comfortable in. It will be fine.”

“Are you ce-certain?”

“I am positive.”

“Then yes.”

“Good.” To her surprise, he winked, then leaned in and brushed her lips with his. “Let me see you back.”

“No,” she whispered, her lips still against his, “if someone should see you…”

“Ask me if I care.” He kissed her again, harder this time.

“I might get in trouble, then.”

He sighed softly and sat back. “Very well. Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow.”

They parted then, and as she slid beneath the covers in her cozy little room just off the rear of the infirmary, Jasna smiled into the darkness. She had no idea what she would say to the others, or if they would even acknowledge her, and she could only hope she didn't embarrass him by stammering like an utter fool. 

[pomegranarchy]

Have You Any Faith? Chapter 2: Arrival

wordcount: 1339 content warning: none link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47796682/chapters/120743410

---

arrival: noun ar·riv·al

1: the act of arriving 2: the attainment of an end or state 3: one that has recently arrived

In the time since, a strange bug had wandered into the village.

The bug’s steps are loud and heavy. Hopper had told Tiak that they reminded him of the clack of a broad shelled beetle. Not that very many of those came around this crook of Hallownest. A few conspire that the bug used to be a guard, given their height and imposing voice. Tiak himself thought it must be a ruse, as the bug possesses the easy mobility of a softer shelled bug, twisting and bending with what seems to be no limit. Pretending to be a much bigger and tougher bug would help protect anyone that seemed so… well, Tiak isn’t sure what the right word is. Lost? Sad? It would have been easier to tell if the bug didn’t always cloak themselves in loose fabric. Or maybe, if the bug explained anything themselves.

Either way, there was work to do. Tiak stepped into the mill, peering towards the silhouette at the grinder. It was impressive how dedicated they were to the task, but any normal bug had to take at least one break by now. What compelled somebody to settle down in the middle of nowhere, anyway?

“Ah, Tiak!” He jolts, having missed the other bug in the room. Thea chitters with amusement, setting down her scoop. “You came just in time. Our new friend was just getting to the good part!”

“The good part?”

“Yes! I used to dread my turn in here, but it’s so much easier with a story. It’s about a princess, and these terrible bugs trying to test her every night!” Thea waves an antenna in the taller bug’s direction. The grinding slows to a halt.

“It’s really only a simple story,” They say. “Nonsense!” Thea exclaims. “You’ve kept me more interested in flour then I’ve been in-- who knows how long! Maybe ever! Come on, catch Tiak up quick.”

Tiak grinds his mandibles together for a second. “Actually, I came here to see how much longer you’d be working.”

“Ah,” The bug exhales heavily. “Until I finish my story, I guess. Why, how long has it been?”

“You came in here when-- when most of us had first woken up, and now the kids are fighting themselves to stay awake! Don’t tell me you’ve been here the whole time?” At the bug’s lack of answer, he twitches.

“Have you really?” Thea asks sharply. “You can’t keep on like that! You’ll be so exhausted you won’t wake up again! How many times do we have to tell you? You don’t have to work your shell off to stay here, you know!”

“It’s okay,” The taller bug assures. “I’ve taken breaks. This isn’t all that taxing for me.”

“Honestly,” Thea chides, “You’d think you want to work yourself to death.”

They make a strange huffing noise that bounces up and down in pitch. “Don’t get your head in a twist. I’m fine, really.”

“A twist?” Tiak asks.

“It’s, uh… another expression. It means getting overly worried or panicked about things. Panic can make you feel dizzy and confused, so your head is ‘in a twist.’” The bug waves a sleeved arm about, making a swirling motion in the air.

“I never know how you keep coming up with so many of those,” Thea says. “It’s like little mini stories. Speaking of, you haven’t finished the one you started!”

“Hey!” Tiak interjects. “Overly worried? It’s a perfectly fine worry! Come on out, leave the rest for tomorrow. You can tell Thea the rest of your story outside.”

The bug steps away from the grinder, gesturing towards the doorway. Thea bounces out ahead of them, buzzing excitedly. “Alright. By the way, is there some sort of holiday or event soon?”

“No,” He says, confused. “Not that I’ve heard of.”

“Oh. You said the kids were trying to keep themselves up. I thought there could’ve been something they wanted to be awake for.”

“Ahh, I see. No, most of them are just afraid of sleeping. I was too.” And still am, Tiak thinks to himself. The strange bug makes a humming noise, and leaves it at that.

----

The stranger had taken to telling the children stories whenever bedtime came near. Effortlessly, they spun fantastical tales of all sorts. Filled with strange words, figures of speech, and turns of expression. They explained what wordplay was, and what making puns meant. It had become such a routine that the village had taken to calling them ‘Wordsmith.’

Tiak had molted out of being considered a child some time ago. It was an important event, and it meant he could help the village like he couldn’t before! But it was times like these where he wished he were still a little younger. Then, he could join the little group that hounded the Wordsmith, begging them to tell another story. To tell another clever joke, explain another big, strange word. Tiak could hardly contain the urge himself. It was just so exciting! It made the question of where they came from all the more curious. Where had they gotten all their stories? All of those brand new words? Surely they hadn’t come up with all of them alone. Tiak made the excuse of personally guiding the kids to their respective homes, just to catch snippets of the Wordsmith’s talk.

Once, he had overheard Hopper ask the Wordsmith if they minded looking after the children. In response, they had said that they were ‘enamored’ with them. Now, bedtime was something of celebration rather than dread. The difficulty in getting the kids to sleep were in their retellings, not their fear. At times, Tiak felt the same. But at others…

A child tugs at the Wordsmith’s loose sleeve. Perhaps the only form of touch that they allow; any other sends the Wordsmith shrinking away.

“Hey, um, I have a question… about your story.”

“Yes?”

“Isn’t… wasn’t the sleeping beauty afraid of going to sleep?” Tiak lingers. The child attached to his hand tightens their grip. The silence is aching.

“No. Do you want to know why?” The Wordsmith kneels, snapping a piece of long grass from the ground. “Because she had a dreamcatcher. It’s a very simple thing, really. You make a loop, like this, and then use something to make a net in the middle.”

They tie the ends together, forming a loop. Tearing a piece of thread from their robes, they wind it around the grass loop. The child-- no, the group of bugs-- watch attentively. No one dares interrupt them. Once it’s finished, the Wordsmith holds it out to the child. Tenderly, the child touches a hand to it.

“But… what does it do?”

“That’s simple, too. A dreamcatcher protects you, making sure that your sleep is peaceful and safe. It’ll catch all the nasty things before they can get to your head. Anyone can make one.”

“... Anyone? Really? Even though I can’t do magic?”

“Yes, really. The best part is that it works because of why it was made. That’s the thing about dreamcatchers. You can’t buy or trade one, or make one for yourself. It will only work if someone gives it to you, because they want you to be safe. Like this one. I want you to sleep safely, from now on and forever. All you have to do is name it, and the dreamcatcher will know it’s yours.” The Wordsmith holds out the completed dreamcatcher. As the child looks down at the gift, Tiak feels awe spread through him. Can a single bug really do that? If this works… if this gift is as valuable as they say…!

“Will you make one for me too?” Before he can stop himself, the words are spilling out of him. The Wordsmith looks sharply upwards. After a pause, they nod. All at once, the other bugs are asking them the same question. Tiak would have felt bad about overwhelming them, but all he can think of is how much he hopes that this grass and string will keep his village safe.

[haus-seeblick]

Suptober Day 6 - "Just Dean"

Rating: Gen

Tags: Narrative Character Study, The Many Masks of Dean Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Bobby Singer is Sam and Dean's REAL Parent, Dean Winchester in Hell, Castiel Saves Dean Winchester, Childhood Trauma, Coping Mechanisms, Childhood to Adulthood, Angst With a Happy Ending

Summary: Sometimes Dean pretends he’s an actor. One of those grinning, quick-witted sitcom kids who always says the right thing.

~ A short exploration of the different masks Dean develops as a child in response to John's parenting, and how they follow him throughout his life. And how Castiel sees right through it. ~

Read under the cut, or on ao3 here!

Sometimes Dean pretends he’s an actor. One of those grinning, quick-witted sitcom kids who always says the right thing, who makes everyone pat them on the back with an indulgent smile.

When Dean’s one of those kids, he can imagine that his dad’s an actor, too. That Dad’s not really mad, he’s just reading his lines. He's just faking the narrow eyes and the deep frown, selling his performance. Dean finds it a lot easier to choose the correct words if he pretends none of it is real. 

It helps him deal with Dad’s long absences, too. Dad’s been gone on a hunt three days longer than he said he’d be? That’s okay. He’s just not in this episode. But like any recurring character, he’ll be back for the next one. 

So Dean doesn’t sweat it. He cracks his jokes, imagines the motel room’s a deserted island where he and Sammy got lost on vacation. It can be hard to find food on an island, after all, so he acts like he’s happy with what he can scrounge up. Sam's still small enough that he believes anything Dean says, anyway.

Like any actor worth his salt, Dean's great at reading body language. He just has to glance at his dad to figure out what kind of scene it’s about to be. Are his shoulders tense? Is he breathing loudly, or evenly? How about that twitch at the side of his mouth? Dean can take it all in in less than a second, and then he knows which TV kid to pull out. Might not be time for Funny Dean right now. If Dad had a rough hunt, he might need Sweet Dean. Sweet Dean's usually quiet and quick, and it's his job to make sure his Dad's not hurt before getting him a beer, and then to keep Sammy occupied for the rest of the day so Dad can rest. 

Dean loves it when he gets to whip out Funny Dean. Whenever the motel door opens and his dad walks in whistling or calling a greeting, Dean’s anxious anticipation falls away in a warm rush. His smile is real in moments like these, and he hugs his dad and tells him about the weird things they've heard the neighbors do through the motel walls, or about some new skill Sammy learned, like using a can opener. And Dad will ruffle his hair and scoop Sam up in his arms, and they'll all watch TV together with a real takeout dinner. As long as Funny Dean sticks around, and stops Sammy from tired-crying too much, he can usually keep the tension out of his dad's shoulders for the night. 

When Dad starts teaching Dean to hunt, Dean develops a new character: Tough Dean. 

Tough Dean has some parts of Funny Dean, but they’re rougher, older, like they got put in a shredder and came out gritty. Tough Dean’s pretty cool, because he doesn’t feel pain, and he can shoot guns, and he has a swagger that looks good on Dean’s longer limbs and taller frame. It’s an effective mask for the softer way Dean actually moves his body, which for some reason triggers Dad's disapproving face whenever he sees it. 

Yes, the best thing of all is that Dad loves Tough Dean. He praises him and wraps his big arm around his shoulders, and brags about him to other hunters they meet. The hunting is an unfortunate side effect, and Dean kinda hates it, but Tough Dean doesn’t complain about the blood or the fire or the bruises. He just does his job. On days when Tough Dean plays his part well, things are smooth sailing.

Dean's least favorite character of all is Bad Dean, but he does have to play him during some episodes. When his dad comes home really tense — stomping, slamming doors — Dean knows he needs a place to put all that anger. (It gets harder, as he gets older, to pretend that Dad is acting, too.) So Bad Dean sits on the couch and lets Dad yell at him, and sometimes more, but it's okay because Dean's a talented actor and can take it, and soon enough he’s got Tough Dean to fall back on. 

It's way better for him to do these scenes than Sammy, after all. 

The only place in the world where Dean can be Just Dean is at Bobby’s. At Bobby’s, there’s food on the table, and games to play, and a whole huge salvage yard to explore, and Dean never even has to read Bobby’s body language because Bobby’s never mad. 

If he tries to be Tough Dean at Bobby’s, like hiding a cut he got while playing airplanes on an old car, Bobby finds out. And he makes Dean sit at the kitchen table while he gets his first-aid kit, and he gently cleans Dean’s cut and bandages it, and tells him not to hide his injuries, boy. But he never sounds mad. 

Funny Dean can come out at Bobby’s, but it doesn’t really feel like playing a character because Dean can drop it anytime and nothing bad happens. Bobby laughs at his jokes, and when Sam starts tired-crying, Bobby smiles and puts him to bed and Dean’s allowed to just keep watching cartoons. 

When John and Bobby have a falling out and they don’t go back to Sioux Falls for a long time, Dean almost forgets what it’s like to be Just Dean.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time passes and pushes Dean into adolescence and then adulthood, and as the weight of his reality settles heavier and heavier onto his shoulders, some of his willful delusions fall away.

Acting becomes less a method of controlling his environment, and more a way of keeping the world at arm’s length. Of protecting himself from being known — even by Sam, who has shared their life, who knows him better than anyone. Sam may have shed the bulk of his blind childhood idolatry of his brother, but some things Dean still can’t bring himself to reveal. Truths he avoids facing even in the quiet of night. 

Tough Dean becomes his baseline. It has to, if he wants to survive. 

Funny Dean, however, sticks around. He comes out to play at bars, on cases, with men and with women, with cops, anytime Dean wants to be a little more likable, a little more . Funny Dean gets him into places and out of situations, and although Dean's knack for body language is sharp as ever, once John’s gone he doesn’t let anyone push him around without pushing back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean is dragged to Hell, and as he’s stripped beyond any measure of humanity, as he screams for his brother, he flinches from the scraps of sanity that float back to him. When he breaks, at his truest, at his worst, he hates himself. 

He doesn’t have a name for the role he plays after taking up Alistair’s blade. For the mask he shows the souls he tortures. It’s the most grotesque parody of himself that could exist.

Then he meets Castiel.

Of course, at first he doesn’t know it’s Cas. At first it’s the bright white light that washes him clean, that brands his arm, that lifts Just Dean, battered and broken and self-loathing, from the pit. 

When they actually meet, in the barn in Pontiac, Dean’s back to being Tough Dean. Back to keeping everyone firmly out, even Bobby and Sam. Funny Dean’s working overtime just to maintain a semblance of normalcy, a semi-believable façade.

Castiel meets Tough Dean, and tells him he deserved to be saved.

And from then on, through everything, whenever Dean acts in front of Castiel, it just… doesn’t work. Cas doesn’t get it. He tilts his head and furrows his brow and sees past any bullshit Dean serves him. He peers right in, all the way down to the truth, to Dean’s core, and nothing Dean ever does can mask what Castiel sees. 

It terrifies him at first. Irritates him over the years. But eventually, there’s a relief to it, to knowing that someone exists who simply knows him without needing any explanation. 

“I know how you see yourself, Dean,” Castiel says, and proceeds to rip it all down, every wall and every mask and every role, and as the angel cries, he tells Dean who he is. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean’s been Just Dean for a while now. 

He moves softly. His smiles are all real, even if some of them are tired. When he wakes up every morning, it's not with a frantic scramble of determining which Dean he needs to play today.

It's to a pair of sleepy blue eyes. It's to the freedom of just being.

[foodandfolklore]

Stingy Jack; The Story of Jack-o-Lanterns

With Halloween nearing, I thought it'd be fitting to talk about Jack-o-Lanterns. A time honored tradition for this odd fusion holiday of Christian, Pagan, and Pop culture, is to carve a lantern from a pumpkin. Traditionally a face, but people can get very creative and I've seen animals, cartoon characters, and machines.

Fun fact about Jack-o-Lanterns, they were not always carved in Pumpkins. When Halloween or All Hallows Eve was still being celebrated in Europe, they would use a root vegetable. Normally a Turnip; I'm guessing because they were large and round. But when Europeans came to North America, they discovered the pumpkin. And that was WAY easier to carve up. First, Pumpkins were already mostly hollow, you just needed to scoop the seeds out. Second, they were softer so cutting into them was easier. Third, their orange flesh and exterior accentuated the fire glow. Pumpkins were in, baby!

But why do we carve Jack-o-lanterns at all? As Halloween falls on the start of Samhain, many people think it has something to do with the dead. Many cultures believe lighting candles, lanterns, or lights help the dead find their way. Perhaps the lantern is a place the dead can take pause for rest. Or maybe the Lantern serves to protect you malicious spirits. There are lots of reasons why people choose to make a Jack-o-Lantern for the season. But there is an old story from Ireland behind it.

Long ago in a small village in Ireland lived a drunkard named Stingy Jack. He wasn’t held in very high regard by the townsfolk. One evening, Satan overheard stories of the devious deeds of Jack and decided he must have this fellow’s soul. Jack may have been stingy, but he was quite clever. When Satan came to collect his soul, he successfully made the case that the least Satan could do was allow him to have a final drink at his favorite pub. After which, Stingy Jack left Satan on the hook for the tab. Jack suggested he turn himself into a coin to pay the bill and they would be off on their journey to the underworld. Satan was fooled when Jack took the coin and put it into his pocket alongside a crucifix, thereby trapping Satan in his pocket. The devil begged and pleaded, and only upon agreeing to leave Jack alone for ten years was he released.

Exactly ten years later, Satan found Jack stumbling home from the pub. With a heavy sigh, Jack looked at the devil knowing full well that he intended to drag him to hell. Jack made the request of Satan to climb a nearby apple tree to get him a final snack to eat before the journey southbound. Satan, apparently still not as clever as Jack, climbed the apple tree. While Satan was climbing the tree, Jack carved a cross into the trunk, thereby trapping Satan up in the tree. The devil begged and pleaded, and only upon agreeing to never take Jack’s soul to hell was he released.

Many years later, when Stingy Jack took his last breath and died, St. Peter refused him entrance into heaven for all his evil deeds. Satan refused him entrance into hell due to their contract. In one final parting gift, Satan gave Jack an ember ablaze with hellfire. Alas, Jack was stuck roaming the earth with only a carved turnip glowing with hellfire to light his way. When Stingy Jack ceased to be, Jack of the Lantern began. On Halloween night, keep an eye out for a restless wandering soul every time you see a Jack O’ Lantern, for it may just be the hellfire glow from Jack’s lantern. 

[jancys-blue-bayou]

could you talk some more about why you think s3 and 4 are some of the worst written tw

Hoo boy there's a lot. Off the top of my head:

Bottom line their biggest problem is they completely overstuffed the show with way too many characters and locations. This is a basic problem that feeds into so many other problems like the pacing being thrown off (remember how smoothly they cut between different plotlines in s1?) and several characters (mainly Jonathan, Mike, Will) being completely sidelined.

In s3 they focused more on memes (Scoops Troop, Alexei etc) than anything else.

In s1 character moments and character development drove the whole season. Now the character moments we get is only crumbs. As for character development, Steve from s3 and on has been reduced to nothing but a walking meme, Jonathan is completely sidelined, Nancy gets some badass moments but they screw her over by tying her up in the mindnumbingly dumb love triangle writing. If they make Stancy happen in s5 they'll have completely walked back any and all character development for three characters.

Further, especially in s3 think several characters acted very out of character. Like some of the stuff Nancy said to Jonathan when they fought in the car came off as very OOC to me (the Oliver Twist dig etc). Dustin is nothing like the sweet smart boy in s1 who kept the peace and cared more about the party all being friends than anything. But most of all, I hated Hopper in s3, how mean and cruel he was to Mike, Joyce, El. Go back and watch s1, he's so much softer. Also ridiculous that he doesn't flat out believe Joyce right away in s3 after s1-2, esp since he comes around to believing Joyce easier than you think in s1. Also his letter voiceover end of s3 that was supposed to be emotional was just trash.

They can't write relationships for shit. Once a ship is canon all the writers can think to do is "let's have them fight and break up!" which is so cheap and dumb.

The spoopy Russians in s3 and that whole plot was so lame, over the top and bad. It was completely unbelievable (yes it's a show where monsters are real but that doesn't mean the human stuff doesn't have to make sense. The realistic human storylines in s1 was what made the monster stuff work so well against it), incomprehensible and just *so* hokey.

They had a full on Coke commercial in an s3 scene. Yes product placement has been part of the show since s1 but the New Coke scene was another level, completely shameless.

The Never Ending Story musical number broke the Geneva Convention and should be investigated and prosecuted as a crime against humanity.

In s3 they give so much screentime to Billy and give his racist abusive ass a sort of redemption by the end.

In s4 they waste soooooo much screentime on the incredibly one note Jason the jock character while the likes of Mike, Will, Jonathan don't get anytime at all. They're not even in ep 7 and spend the climactic fight watching from the sidelines.

The Byers move makes no sense.

They completely don't give a shit about the Byers family anymore when for me and many other viewers they were the emotional heart of s1. It all started and ended with them. In s3 Jonathan and Will are in the same plot line for a bunch of time but we don't get any Byers bros stuff even then, and at the end of the season we don't even get a family hug, Joyce just hugs Will even though Jonathan is there too (and the Duffers told Winona there "was no time" for her to hug both her sons...) In s4 Joyce abandons her kids to go off on her Hopper rescue mission. We get the Jonathan and Will talk and hug which was great (and completely shocking to all of us that they allowed for that) and a family hug at the end but like... please let Jonathan and Joyce talk at some point?

Nancy and Mike spent a lot of time in s3 in the same plot too but we didn't get any sibling bonding between them.

They straight up just abandoned Will's arc halfway through s3. In s4 they repeat the "Jancy has communication issues" which was their arc in s3, negating that s3 arc. And they refuse to complete the arc in s4 to drag the dead love triangle into s5.

The meat monster in s3 was a super lame monster and s4 revealing the big bad as Vecna aka edgelord 3000 I'm not a fan of.

The cgi looks so bad. Vecna being tossed into the UD/whatever that place is in s4e7 takes the cake.

Them retconning so much of s1 in s4 is trash writing.

The s4 scene of El being bullied at the roller rink was really bad, like completely over the top and hokey.

Overall I'm not a fan of the direction they've taken the overarching plot in, with the spoopy Russian, Vecna etc.

Them repeating the same seasonal structure year after year is so boring. Separate cold open. Checking in on all the characters going about their lives. Supernatural stuff slowly starting to happen. Everyone being split up into different plot lines. Plot lines converging towards the end. El fights the monster of the season. Aftermath epilogue. Rinse and repeat.

The human threat of the US government makes no sense anymore. Owens and his super loyal agent men being some sort of good guys for no motivation, the spoopy Russians being set up as more evil than the Good Americans, together with the Bad Americans now being some army branch it's all just... what happened to s1?

They make cheap, dumb and so easily avoided mistakes like forgetting Will's birthday, having the cops interrogating El (a minor) without a guardian present etc yes these may seem like small things but there's so many small little mistakes like these.

They don't have a script supervisor, the Duffers openly admit they don't watch the previous seasons. Which explains a lot of why later seasons don't make sense with earlier ones.

Basically I just think it's like a completely different show compared to s1, and the writing is the main cause of it. Go back and watch s1 and see how the plot develops organically, character driven, at such a nice pace, Will and Barb going missing and El being found setting everything off and then it's all driven by the characters growing and developing and they cut between all the plot lines perfectly before they all dovetail nicely at the end. Compare it to s3 and s4 and it's just like night and day.