#toddy answers

[fredmundo]

For tommy double booking buck and eddie means double the cock

he's a homewrecker i love him

[ragingbookdragon]

Life becomes a bit simpler after her chat with Price; the others definitely notice as she’s not calling Ghost “sir” consistently, and she’s also not avoiding him like the plague. It’s almost upsetting for both Gaz and Soap, mainly because it gave them something to tease Ghost about—it was hilarious watching the way his jaw would clench when they did so. She may not be avoiding Ghost like usual, but she doesn’t go out of her way to directly engage him either. She’s calm, cool, collected when he speaks to her, even smiles at him from time to time, like she used to.

It’s her eyes that unnerves Ghost though.

She knows. And he knows she knows because his skin crawls when he recognizes the look in them. He used to hate it when he saw that. Saw it in every soldier, every superior, every civilian’s gaze when they whispered in the halls about him. But where theirs held pity, hers shine with understanding. With grace. With welcoming.

It makes his stomach churn uncomfortably and weight like lead settle in his bones.

***

Ghost has a routine when he can’t sleep. Usually wakes up at one, drinks a cup of decaffeinated tea, and goes back to sleep by three. No one else is usually awake during those hours except routine security and he trudges into the kitchen, intent to make himself a cup in his tired state, when he stops at the entrance, eyes widening when he sees her sitting there with a steaming cup of tea in front of her, and a bottle of whiskey.

She looks up at the intrusion and smiles tiredly at him. “Hiya LT. Funny meeting you here.”

“It’s one A.M.” he mutters. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Can’t sleep,” she replies, looking back at her tea.

Ghost takes a step into the kitchen, goes to the kettle when his eyes fall on the table again, and he realizes she has two cups of tea ready.

“You’re a piss poor liar,” he says under his breath, abandoning the kettle as he pulls out the chair and plops down beside her. “You makin’ hotty toddy’s?”

“Those don’t have tea in them,” she answers, but pours a decent amount of whiskey in his teacup. “But yes, I am.”

He hums, lifts the mask above his upper lip and takes a sip. “Not bad,” he cuts himself off with a cough and she purses her lips, trying not to laugh at him. “Not bad,” he wheezes, eyes watering, but he feels something light in his chest when he sees her smile.

It’s a comfortable silence they find themselves sitting in, drinking tea and staring at the board on the wall across the room in front of them. It’s Soap’s turn on dishes for the week. He’ll probably try to smooch his way out of it—he hates washing dishes. He’ll most likely ask her to switch duties with him; he’ll probably win.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you the other day.”

She blinks and looks over at him, but his eyes are still on the board, moving like he’s reading. “It’s…it’s okay, LT.”

“No,” he answers back immediately. “No, it wasn’t. And I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve acted like an adult and instead I acted like a ten-year-old.”

A laugh passes her lips and he looks over at her curiously; she shakes her head. Price said something like that.” Her eyes meet his. “I’m sorry I’m always up your ass. I know it can be annoying.”

Ghost shrugs. “I’m used to annoying.” He catches the way her expression pinches and he corrects, “You’re not annoying, you’re just…”

“A lot?”

“Will you let me try and dig myself out of this hole, please?”

She smiles and reaches over, patting his leg. “I know what you mean. I’ll try to not be it.”

Ghost blinks and looks at her hand then back at her. “I miss it, y’know? You being…you.”

“Really?”

He nods. “It’s too quiet around the base. I realize how much your laughter makes us all feel when I don’t hear it.” He sips his tea.

She stirs the spoon in hers. “…Price told me about your family.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

He shrugs. “I figured he’d said something.” He nudges her in the side. “Gave you a talking to, didn’t he?”

“You’re one to talk,” she retorts, and he grins for a moment before he lets out a sigh.

“My old man was a drunk arsehole.”

“LT, you don’t—”

“No, I do,” he interrupts and leans back, staring at the ceiling. “He was a complete cunt. Beat me and my mum and brother. Tommy was a drug addict, started stealin’ from mum.” Something flickers in his expression. Cold. Old hatred. “I beat the shit outta my old man. Kicked him out for good. Got Tommy into rehab.” His tone eases somewhat. “Things got better. Tommy married Beth, had Joseph. Things were good.” Ghost’s eyes take on a sadness, an ache, a wound that has never seemed to really heal, just scab over. “Things were good,” he murmurs.

“And then…”

He inhales and exhales, swallows, tries to speak, until all he can say is, “I don’t like talkin’ ‘bout Mexico.”

She lays her hand on his. “You don’t have to.”

“I got vengeance for the blood that was spilled from my family.” He inhales and exhales again, closing his eyes for a moment. “…I’m claustrophobic. An’ I hate being around people. I hate bein’ in a room where I don’t know the exits. I hate gettin’ new people ‘cause I’m afraid to trust ‘em.” When she gives him a funny look from the last statement, he adds, “The people you know can hurt you the worst.”

“LT, I would never betray you.”

“Don’t ever say you won’t until you’re in a—”

“Simon, I would never betray you,” she repeats firmly, gazing at him intently. “I would rather die than betray any of the people on this team.”

He searches her gaze for some kind of lie before he turns his head back to the wall. “I’m afraid to let more people in ‘cause I’ve already lost so much of myself from it. I don’t know how much more I can take losin’.”

She goes quiet for a moment, thinks on his words, then counters, “I’d rather lose the people I care about than never know what it was like to love them in the first place.” She can see the way the man beneath Ghost aches to wish he could still be that man. “I’d rather lose you as my friend than never know what it was like to know the man beneath the mask.”

“I’m not a good man to know,” he murmurs, and she scoffs lightly.

“That’s your prerogative.”

“It’s the right one.”

She turns in her chair, her knees brushing against the outside of his thigh as she affirms, “Whether or not you think you are, you are my friend, and I am a better person for knowing you.”

“Puffin,” he mutters. “You gotta aim higher, love.”

“Or you can let me in.” She watches the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I’m not going anywhere. You can either accept that and be my friend, or you can reject it and ignore me forever, but I’ll still be here.”

Ghost‘s face pinches and he gripes, “You’re a pain in my arse, you know that, don’t you?” Her smile is bright as he sits straight again and leans against his arm, her head on his shoulder.

After a moment, she whispers, “LT, do you think…do you think in a different life we’d be better people? Happier?”

He tears his gaze from the wall to look down at her and he thinks for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, pet, I think we’d be better.” He shifts his arm, wraps it around the back of her chair and adds, “But I think you and me are doing just fine in this one.”

[takenbypeter]

I'm dying for more x men evolution brotherhood x reader please I'll give you my life

Our Own World

Todd Tolansky x reader

Words: 609

Rocking back and forth on your heels you stood at the entrance waiting for the front door to open. 

You knew the brotherhood was home, you could hear the tv and laughs coming from the other side. So of course you knocked again. Louder and harder until finally, “what? What?” Pietro whined as soon as he opened the door.  

You threw him a somewhat friendly smile before entering the house. Pietro reclaimed his chair while the other boys barely looked away from the screen. 

“Is Todd here? He was supposed to meet me ten minutes ago.”

“He’s probably still in his room,” said Pietro. 

“Really?”

“Lance said he was two-thirds monstrosity in him,” Fred said, immediately tattle tailing from his spot. 

“Hey, I was just messing around, Pietro’s the one who called him a greasy, vile creature.”

“You’re the one who started it though.”

Rolling your eyes at the group you mumbled out a, “jerks,” just loud enough for them to hear before pointing to the stairs. 

“Which one is he?”

“Second on the left,” revealed Fred, which you thanked before heading up. 

You knocked on the door first, “Toddy! I’m coming in,” you shouted, turning the handle. 

Looking around trying to find the mutant, you spotted him, hiding underneath his bed. 

With a small and confused smile threatening to appear on your lips you closed the door behind you and walked up to the him.

“What are you doing?”

Toad gave you a sheepish smile, “I’m late aren’t I?” 

“Yeah you are but that doesn’t matter right now, why are you under the bed?”

He shrugged his shoulders, which was slightly hard for you to see given that that part of him was nearly hidden by the bedframe.

“Sometimes it’s more comfortable here.”

You nodded and then titled your head before bending down to meet him down there. You noticed how he scooted further, slightly distancing himself from you. 

“Are you okay? I heard what happened with the guys.”

“Oh that,” he pointed, his expression giving off nonchalant. “That’s just what we do, they rag on me, I rag on them it’s cool.”

“Okay, then why are you hiding under your bed.”

“I’m not hiding…sometimes it’s just nice down here. I don’t have to act, I can just be by myself.”

You understood that, with you being used to putting on a face yourself at times. 

Looking at him and the open space beside him, you couldn’t help but ask, “…do you have room for one more?”

Toad looked behind him back under the bed before giving you another nervous smile, “I mean yeah, if you don’t care about the mess.”

Taking that answer, you went to the floor scooting yourself next to him. 

He looked at you and you looked back at him. With you just laying that close to him, he had to smile, “this is weird isn’t it?”

“A little bit but that’s okay, it’s nice under here.” And you were being honest, it was comfortable, cozy, sure a little messy but that’s alright. 

After another lull fell over the room you spoke up again, “I’m sorry your friends ragged on you, they’re jerks.”

He stays silent but shoots you a thankful smile before his expression turns wide, “what am I doing ? I’m ruining our date!” He pushes himself up only for his shoulders to be met with the bottom of his bed and he’s once again sent back down. 

“Ow.”

It takes you a moment to control yourself from laughing, “relax our date is fine, we can just relax here for a few more minutes. In our own little world, just me and you.”

[thewriterg]

♡︎𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰♡︎

pairing(s): Jess Mariano x gn!reader, Jess Mariano x Gilmore!reader

summary: One of the many things Jess didn’t expect in the ungodly hour of the night was for you to be waking him up out of his sleep about ‘the smell is snow’ when it wasn’t even supposed to even start flurrying for another four weeks.Right?

word count: 680+

warning(s): Jess being grumpy per usual, first snowfall, pet names, kisses and language

A/n:—GIFs; @buffysummers— Me waiting for winter break; 🤨🧐

“Come on wake up, wake up hon you’re missing it” You whisper shouted shaking Jess lightly as he grumbled tossing and turning not even thinking to fully peel his eyes open and look at whatever hell hour of night it was

“Is it sleep because In that case you’d be right” The brunette mumbled into the pillow his head rested on as you rolled your eyes still attempting to shake him awake

“Smell the air, come on smell it.” You threw the covers back from the both of your bodies wrapping you arms under his dragging the boy to his feet

“Smell the air, come on smell it.” You threw the covers back from the both of your bodies wrapping you arms under his dragging the boy to his feet

“It smells cold, No it’s freezing!” Jess objected as soon as he could register what you were doing which made him try and pull the dead weight trick he used to do on cops but it was no use you were to blinded by it to even notice what your boyfriend was trying to pull

“The floor is cold” Now he tried to bargain with you plead to go back to bed but you still didn’t budge as you dragged him slowly to the front door

“God your so obsessed with the cold” You teased mocking the deep growls and groans that came from Jess as you began to hand him thick jacket having not switched over to a big coat yet

“That’s because it’s cold!”

💌💌💌💌

“I’m turning numb. Are my feet still attached to my body or did they snap off coming down the stairs?” The brunette complained as you both walked out into the middle of the empty streets clutching his body in a warm hug as if he were trying to keep himself together from falling apart under the harsh cold airs and winds

“They’re still there.” You sarcastically replied even going as far as to look back as if you were giving him the reassurance they were in fact Still there

“Why are we out here?” Jess could practically hear himself start whining hell he could get on his knees and plead for you to go back into your home if he didn’t already know your answer wasn’t going to change

“Take a Deep breath, yeah I smell snow” You declared as if it was you final decision and there was no turning back and Jess couldn’t look at you anymore crazy than he already was

“What!?”

“It’s coming I always know i can smell it and I’m never wrong” You both stopped abruptly in a random spot as you looked to the sky just waiting for it to finally fall

“It wasn’t in a forecast” Any other time you would have laughed at the thought of Jess sitting and actually watching a news station to get a weather report

“It’s Just my favorite time of the year the whole world changes color. Flakes, flurries, swirls, crystals, whatever form it comes in I’ll take it we go back snow and me we have a beautiful history.”

“I saw two forecasts neither ever mentioned snow cold, but no snow.” The brunette stated filling in the temporary pause of silence in your ranting

“Sleigh rides, ice skating, snowball fights I’ll even take curling and God I hate curling” You smiled brighter than a kid on Christmas morning starting to get a little antsy in your own skin

“Cranston on channel six said it would be dry. Kimmi listing live at five same thing no snow, nothing” Your boyfriend tried reminding you but as if he were talking to a wall he got no avail

“Hot cocoa, toddies, it’s the best time of the year.” It was so damn close you couldn’t practically taste the salt of it on your tongue

“Jimmy Mountain in a cue chopper once said it would be at least four weeks befo—” Jess’s word we’re stuck in his throat as flurries and snowflakes began to fall from the sky around you both

“Cranston and Kimmi are dumb asses.” Jess sighed in defeat wrapping his arm around you and you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face even if you wanted to

“Welcome friends.”

💌💌💌💌

Taglist; @maybankslover

If you ever wanted to me put you on or take you off of a taglist let me know!

[icemankazansky]

What about a spy AU for Ice and Mav???

Thanks for playing! I hope you are open for an omegaverse spy AU, because that is what happened.

Maverick takes the long way around the safehouse as per usual, checking the perimeter before entering.  He notices a single white rose tucked between the curtains and the glass in his bedroom window, and smiles.

The traps have been disengaged, as he knew they would be, but he’s careful opening the door, anyway.  It’s dark in the entryway; Maverick can see low lights on down the hall, and there’s a record playing softly somewhere further into the house.  He follows the noise, the low light, like a moth drawn to flame.

“Honey, I’m home,” he says softly when he reaches the source.  

There are lamps on in the living room: just low, warm light.  The record spins; it’s one of Ice’s, playing something slow and moody.  Ice himself is in the plush armchair beside what was once a fireplace and is now a cleverly concealed cache of weapons and tech.  When Maverick enters, Ice slides a bookmark between the pages of his book and sets it down on the side table.  

He smiles, a warm, gentle thing.  “Hey, stranger.”

They meet halfway, embracing in near synchrony.  Ice nuzzles Maverick’s cheekbone, then finds his mouth, kissing him slowly, deeply, well.  

“Missed you,” Ice murmurs, then licks hot into Maverick’s mouth.  

Ice’s hands grip him, not needfully, but almost like he’s afraid if he doesn’t hold on, Maverick will slip away.  Something feels off.  Maverick runs his hands over Ice’s body gently, checking for any sign of injury.  He finds none.  Disquieted, he breaks away from Ice’s kisses, just a little, kissing his cheek, the joint of his jaw, his throat.  Maverick licks over the scent gland on the side of Ice’s neck, urging a shuddering breath out of him, and then breaths in deep, lips parted so he can get every bit of information Ice’s pheromones have to offer.

Ice feels safe in Maverick’s arms, a respite he’s been desperate for finally here: the one safe place that is actually safe.  He wants to burrow into his alpha’s embrace and never leave.  That’s not unusual.  Maverick smells that on Ice often.  But there’s something else behind it, a much fainter but nevertheless insistent sour tang of anxiety.  And something else beneath all of it, the whisper of a powdery sweetness, like a young girl’s first perfume.  Not the warm, sticky sweet of Ice’s heat, but something Maverick cannot place.

“You could just ask,” Ice says softly.

Maverick pulls away just enough to look him in the face.  “Do you feel like talking?”

Ice looks at him.  Pulls back a step, out of his embrace.  “You want a drink?”

Ice doesn’t wait for an answer, just goes to the kitchen and begins pulling out ingredients.  Maverick follows him.

“Ice,” he says gently, “are you in some kind of trouble?”

Ice laughs, short and sharp.  “Uh, that is … an interesting way to put it.”

Ice sets the kettle to boil.  He’s fished bourbon and honey from the cabinets; Maverick imagines he’s looking for cinnamon sticks, which he won’t find there.  It’s cold today, but not cold enough that Maverick thought of a hot toddy when Ice offered him a drink.

“Look at me,” Maverick says.

Ice turns.  Looks at him, eyes the steely blue of a stormy sky.

“I don’t care what it is,” Maverick says.  “Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll fix it.  I’ll take care of you.”

He sees Ice soften so quickly and so completely that it’s like watching a video of three months of winter and snow transitioning to the bright blooms of spring, sped up to play in mere seconds.

“I’m pregnant,” Ice says.

And now this moment, time slows, mere seconds stretching over a season.

“Oh,” Maverick says.  And then, “Oh.  Oh.”

Ice looks away, some of the frost returning.  “You don’t have to do anything about it—”

“Stop,” Maverick says.  He closes the space between them, takes Ice by the wrist; when Ice won’t look at him, he uses his free hand to turn Ice’s chin so he’s facing him.  Ice’s eyes flicker up, the Arctic Sea, an impossibly clear, glacial blue.  He looks hopeful.  He looks young.  

He’s beautiful.

“You’ve already decided, haven’t you?” Maverick says.  “I know you better than anyone.  I can see it on your face: You didn’t think you could ever have this, so you wrote it off.  No use wishing for something that’ll never come.  But now it’s happened, on accident, almost, and you find that you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything.  But you still think you can’t have it, so you’ve decided that instead of letting yourself have the best thing that will ever happen to you—”

“It’s impossible,” Ice says.

“We do impossible things every day!  We were trained for it, Ice.  It’s our business.  It’s our … our craft, our art.”

Ice is breathing shallowly, and he’s flushed high up on his cheeks, which Maverick knows means he’s trying not to cry.

“Ice, I love you.  I want you.  I want you always, I want the baby; I want any and every single thing that will make you happy.  I will get it for you.  I will do it for you.  This will be hard, but we can do it together.  We’ll get you out.  We’ll get you a new name, and I will find you a safe place, and if you just trust me, I will spend the rest of my life making impossible things happen for you.”

Ice does cry, now, and he closes his eyes against it, reaches out for Maverick, who pulls him into a tight embrace.  Maverick can feel Ice’s heart beating against his chest, can smell the relief and joy coming off him like a lighthouse beacon, and he knows what Ice’s answer is before he even speaks it.

“Yes.”

[ghostradiodylan]

Do you have any headcanons for how the hacketteers would deal with being sick? Maybe how often they get sick, what type of illnesses they are prone to, etc….

Way behind on Quarry asks but I am home sick with some kind of crud right now so what better time to answer this one?!

Emma - Emma is a people person and always on the go, so she's exposed to a lot of germs. I feel like she'd be the one to get into juicing and making smoothies for immune health and the 'sexy' supplements like Moon Juice or whatever Gwyneth Paltrow is selling (but nobody’s sure if she really buys into them or if she’s just trying to get a sponsorship). Emma has a system for any kind of normal illness that doesn't completely knock her on her ass and that is to take a very hot bath with peppermint and eucalyptus bath salts and drink a hot toddy while she's in there. (Just the one, she doesn't want to drown!)

Jacob - This guy gets the dreaded Man Cold and is the sickest person who has ever lived. He doesn't get sick often because he's fairly health conscious, but he's absolutely pathetic and mopey about it when he does. He wants to be babied because his perfect male specimen of a body and extensive supplement regimen have betrayed him. He hates going to the doctor and puts it off until someone makes him go. Kaitlyn brings him soup and yells at him (affectionately) to stop being pathetic. He drinks a ton of Gatorade when he's sick (always Cool Blue flavor).

Kaitlyn - Look, Kaitlyn's Asian and her family was wearing masks during cold and flu season long before it was cool. She doesn't totally buy into the traditional Chinese medicine stuff but she does believe in the healing power of food that's spicy as fuck, especially if she's having sinus issues. She's also a fan of long, hot baths or showers, chicken soup with a ton of garlic, drinking a bunch of tea with lemon and ginger, the sauna at the gym, exercising even if she doesn't feel like it, hot yoga, and acupuncture. If that doesn't knock it out, she's not too stubborn to go to the doctor, people like that (who have insurance but don’t use it) drive her crazy (Jacob!).

Abi - If something is going around, Abi just knows she's going to get it. She’s a worrier and a bit of a catastrophizer when she does get sick. She's a hand sanitizer addict, she's got those cute sparkly holders from Bath & Body Works (but she uses the Halloween ones all year). She's good about letting herself take time to rest and get her strength back after an illness though. She likes to catch up on trash TV while she's recuperating. She also gets allergy shots because her environmental allergies are insane. She uses a neti pot or saline spray often to ward off sinus infections.

Ryan - Our stoic boy is stoic. Ryan takes all the necessary precautions to not get sick, he's kind of an obsessive hand-washer for sensory reasons anyway, but when he does, he follows doctors' recommendations to the letter and rarely complains. He will typically muddle through like normal if he's not got something contagious, but if he has to take time off work or school, he doesn't really talk about it or look to be cared for, just holes up in his room alone trying to not spread it around--he is very conscientious. Ryan gets the occasional migraine and that's one thing he can't really muddle through. He has to be in a quiet, dark room to recover, with an ice pack on his head, a caffeinated beverage, and a guided meditation podcast.

Dylan - People love to make our boy a damsel in distress because he's a cute gay string bean that bad things happen to, but Dylan is pretty tough in the game (like, unrealistically tough at times). I tend to consider his amputee arc as main canon, so given the assumption that he doesn't die of sepsis after surviving werewolves, he's got to have a pretty robust immune system and probably doesn't get sick that often. He does have that whole under-react/overreact thing going on though (the air freshener lol), so I imagine that when he does get sick, he either just carries on until he physically can't anymore (he'd wear a mask and get vaccinated and all that good stuff, he's a scientist after all, but he’s bad about making sure he gets rest) OR he starts Googling his symptoms and getting paranoid, convinced he has some rare incurable disease (he doesn't). He also doesn't really like to slow down and let people take care of him but when they really insist, he not-so-secretly loves the attention, from his mom, his boyfriend, his roommate/bestie, whoever.

Nick - Nick turns into a slimy wet sex pest whenever he gets sick. No, I’m kidding. I think it’d be funny/ironic/unfortunate if chef Nick had kind of a sensitive digestive system. He will eat anything, especially if Jacob is eating it. But, alas, Jacob has an iron stomach and our poor Nicholas does not. So he gets a lot of tummy troubles from doing things like eating 20 year old snacks or trying to go head to head with Jacob and Kaitlyn in a spicy ramen challenge. Nick gets sick a regular amount with stuff like head colds and is just kind of middle of the road as far as how he handles it. He does however have a habit of making up untrue facts about Australia that he tells his coworkers and campers when no one has the internet available to fact check him and one of them is that a steaming mug of hot pickle juice is a favorite folk remedy for colds there.

Max - he doesn’t get sick often but he is highly accident-prone. Like, so accident-prone that his family has started calling them ‘Maxidents’ when he has a major mishap. He routinely falls off ladders, gets attacked by migratory waterfowl, trips while trying to carry more groceries than he should into the apartment, etc. Max is luckily a very good patient because he has a lot of practice. He also has a lot of ice packs in the freezer at all times.

Laura - she gets onto Max about being careful, getting enough sleep, eating healthy, etc, but Laura is a do as I say, not as I do kinda gal. She does try to be healthy and active but she’s really busy (busier than ever post-canon because she thinks she can outrun trauma if she never slows down long enough to think about it). When Laura gets sick she gets Leslie Knope sick.

Max has to put her in bed and take care of her because she will not admit she needs it until she is practically on death’s door.

[sirdolraan]

Meet-Awkward

(( DWC August 2024 Day 4, Ego/Coincidence, CW: None; @daily-writing-challenge ))

"Ah, Sir Dolraan, it's good to have you and the Meddlers at our side," Khadgar said, shaking Dolraan's hand as the others filed in behind him.

"Same to you, Archmage. A few years of relative peace aren't enough to rob us of our edge, where are we needed?"

Lorellai's gaze wandered as Khadgar and Dolraan began to discuss the ghostly memories that were appearing across the world, and fell on the glittering, still form of Magni Bronzebeard, with Queen-Regent Moira kneeling at his side. The former king's body shone in the low light of the chamber, and Lorellai could hardly drag her eyes away. The stories hadn't done it justice, a dwarf made of living diamond.

Her reverie was broken by a warm hand on her shoulder. "And who do we find but one of the League's finest up-and-comers, ready to answer tha call!" Brann Bronzebeard declared, giving her shoulder a friendly shake as a handsome young man with spectacles and pockets full of scrolls and tomes followed in behind him. "Toddy speaks highly of your abilities lass, glad to see yeh here!"

Lorellai smiled back, taking his hand and shaking it. "Well, just happy to help where I'm needed."

"Is this a friend of yours, Uncle?" the dark iron lad asked, straightening his glasses, his gaze torn between the unconscious speaker and his desire to be polite.

"Ach, that's right, you've not met yet. Dagran me lad, this here is Lorellai Truthhammer, one of the Dragonscale Expedition's finest champions. Aided in several key discoveries -and- stood against the primalists t' boot! Lorellai, this is my nephew-"

"Dagran Thaurissan the Second." Moira's voice rang out, putting a chill over the conversation. "My son, would you please attend me, your grand-da needs us both right now." Something about her voice and gaze made Lorellai feel only a foot tall.

"Oh, of course Mother. A pleasure to meet you, Lorellai, perhaps we can talk about your discoveries once things are calmer," Dagran offered, smiling genially as he strode to his mother's side. Lorellai nodded, then barely held back from shrinking under the icy stare of Queen Moira.

"Oh, would yeh look at that!" Brann said a bit louder than he needed to, "I think yer meddler friends are gettin' ready to head out, go on lass, we'll catch up later." Brann patted her on the shoulder, before leaning in close. "Don't take it personal, lass. Old hurts and all that. You're a good egg."

Lorellai nodded, stepping back with a slight bow to the royals before turning to join the others at the portals, her gaze lingering as it met Dagran's once more, before she went off to join the fight.

[002yb]

do you have any thoughts about priest jason todd? haha i want to see your take on it, esp if in this au dickjay was a thing or happened. i was thinking about priest jason todd and mirrorverse batfam so he’s like the only “good” one and he has a code not to kill while everyone else here doesn’t care ab killing, also the thought of dick tempting jay ^^ or honestly just the entire batfam just mourning and being basically mob bosses until jason gets resurrected and eventually comes to gotham and is oike “so i know i’m back but now i’m a god lover and a priest and hey oh also i don’t kill” and everyone is just “now hold on a second-“

Demons have followed Jason all his life - metaphorically and literally. At least in the literal sense, it's always the same fuckers, too. They're relentless.

Maybe it's because Jason was one of them, but by some twist of fate he was given absolution and reborn with a 'clean slate' to do right. Or maybe it's a plea bargain - help as many souls as he hurt while Jason was a demon and that will be his retribution, his mercy from hellfire. Or he's part of some twisted game. Stolen from his home and influenced to reject it.

For the sake of this ask: he died. He came back wrong. No memories, no corruption - just a penchant for attracting the wicked. Everything else is open to interpretation.

The family wants him back though. And Jason might not realize, but he's darkness welcomed past the church's threshold; he brings damnation by association.

Not necessarily by the family, but by others. Because Jason's soul is tortured. Tormented. It's known suffering from a life he can't remember and one he does - caused by men created in his God's image and by monsters that were cast from his kingdom.

Basically Father Hot Toddies is prime real estate (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Anyway, background. Jason attracts abusive people. He influences people to abuse him. Try as he might to help, there's a darkness at his fingertips and devastation in his wake.

Instant distraction -- Jason self-flagellating whenever he feels he failed to help someone or thinks he led anyone astray. It's supposed to be a penace, but sometimes Jason is weak and it's just punishment

Okay, we're back. Jason recognizing that something's wrong with him. Because too many bad things happen for him not to pick up the pattern.

Another distraction and it's kinky, I apologize -- Jason being assaulted in the church proper. In the confessional booths or in the pews ahhhhhh blasphemous okay okay

Protective of the people in his community and is well loved, in turn, but is conscious to keep a distance for their safety. He has compassion in spades and shows that in the ways that he can (putting the fear of God into cruel people, going out and sneaking food and blankets to the homeless, nagging at punks across the street to get their asses to school or the orphans at the church to mind the nuns).

Not as lonely a life as it seems because choice demons harass him on the regular.

They look after Jason in their own way, but it's wicked

Every person that hurts Jason turns up dead. It's part of Jason's motivation to keep withdrawn. There's forgiveness for everyone, even those who lose their senses around him.

Would Jason have the same forgiveness if the man who tried to assault him turned on a child? And Jason pauses, because his answer is no - burn him ---- and he burns.

Oh. For a time Jason thinking himself mad. Or figuring he's invited a demon into him because there are voices in his head and in those moments of weakness when he can't be temperate -- people get hurt.

Which leads to a lot of torment and praying because what's wrong with him? Tell him. Let him be better.

Jumping over to Dick's perspective on things for a moment because okay. The family loses it when they realize Jason has been lost to them. They bring apocalypse and travesty in their rage and it's a bad time.

But then - the familiar flicker of a damaged soul. Jason.

Dick going to Jason first. Following the sound of his cries and the smell of his suffering. And where some in the family might like that - Dick isn't one of them. Pain that Jason endures is Dick's to inflict, after all. Possessive!demon!Dick Grayson yes please.

Anyway, Dick shows up and suddenly Willis is shot dead on the doorstep. The cigarettes he would use to burn Jason with stamped into his forehead.

And Jason sees Dick there, stooped over Willis's body. Dick flicks the cigarette away. Looks at this small, scrawny boy and marvels at how Jason is still perfect - even like this. A soft smile, still all teeth and bite and menace. It's vicious in a way that even demons cringe away from, but Jason smiles. Tentative, innocent.

Because he thinks Dick is his guardian angel.

The rest of the family piles on if only because Jason really does attract all sorts of terrible things. They can't fathom what it is. Jason has always had that way about him, but it's amplified now and it puts him in danger. Jason's soul is theirs though; no one else can have it.

It's Gotham that wants it. Cursed land that outdates even the first of their kind.

Jason thinking he has angels looking out for him until he recognizes them for the demons they are. He tries to escape them, seeking asylum in a church and it deters them for a time, but only until Jason's own evil taints hallowed grounds.

This is so convoluted ahhhhh sorry

But basically overprotective!bats trying to save Jason's soul to sate their own desires

Jason rebuffing all their efforts and being a stubborn ass

He only relents when Gotham sends its worst after him and desecrates the church that housed him and the children under his care that he loses it and strikes a contract with some of hell's finest

It's a zero sum game though

Because Dick and the others - they can have Jason's soul. But only once the evil in Gotham is purged. Only the evil.

Just an endless war but it's fine because all the losses and suffering only makes Jason's soul that much more sweet

They're content to starve until then

Only they're not. They taste and nibble when allowed. And Father Hot Toddy? He's a generous man. //u////

Can an AU like this not get a little kinky? It feels like a crime that it wouldn't. Father Todd gets down  (*°∀°)=3

Extra Dickjay details:

Jason seeking out his 'guardian angel' because there's nowhere safer than with Dick. They sit in a grimy alley and Jason falls asleep with his head pillowed on Dick's thigh, or curled up against Dick's chest. And Dick humors it. He's soft about it, content if only because he can wrap himself around Jason and possess him for even a short time

Jason calling for Dick when he finds Catherine, not realizing Dick was the devil whispering in her ear. Jason loved her; Dick didn’t. He tested her love of Jason and she fell short

Dick being the demon Jason calls to in order to make that contract. Because he remembers the times Dick was kind (because for as jaded as Jason has become, he wants to believe that was genuine - not another manipulation). He'll sell Dick his soul, but only if Dick gives Jason hope.

Reverence. Shoulder and spine kisses. Worship. It’s overwhelming, tempting, addictive.

Dick knows how to play Jason. He never considers Jason knows Dick just as well. <3

Something something Dick won’t pray to anyone, but he’ll dirty talk marvel Jason like he’s something holy

Something something Jason anticipating a kiss. To tease him, Dick raises the cross of Jason’s rosary between them - a barrier because ‘what would your god say, little wing?’ And Jason is already succumbed, but he’d bite back a challenge, ‘you would let him stop you?’ And Dick would smile and snap the rosary from Jason’s neck, beads clattering on the stone floors beneath them as he defiles not an innocent lamb, but a wolf in sheep’s clothing. //u///

‘Never,’ he’d breathe against Jason’s lips, his skin. A promise and an oath and the devotion in it would tear Jason apart. 💖

[krirebr]

Hey Kris! If you feel like playing, here's some match time fun 😁 Match vacation destination to a babe:

ski resort

exotic beach

old cities sightseeing

camping

with: Ari, Ransom, Curtis, Steve

Oh this is a fun one, Eva! And I was surprised by how quickly and easily all of my answers fell into place. I didn't really have to even think about it!

Ski resort - Ransom Obviously! He's already dressed for it! And while I can't really see him hitting the slopes, you know he feels at home at a chalet. So if you really want to ski, you go right ahead and he'll be waiting for you back at the lodge with a hot toddy ready. And if that's not enough, I'm sure he'll be able to think of other ways to warm you up. 😏

Exotic beach - Ari Another clear one. It coincides with his allergy to shirts. He can swim or do whatever other beach stuff he wants, while you get some sun on the beach and appreciate that gorgeous view. 👀

Old cities sightseeing - Steve Ok, this one is my personal choice. I love old cities. That's my ideal vacation. And I think Steve would love it too. All of the art and architecture! The history! Wandering cobblestone streets hand in hand, trying to see as much as we can. While also sampling all the food and drink we can. Perfect.

Camping - Curtis Ok, I know canonically he hasn't been outside in seventeen years, but there's something inherently outdoorsy and primal about Curtis. There just is. He'd be all about getting back to nature and putting up his own tent and building fires and the like. And truly being able to be away from everything would be very appealing to him, I think.

Listen, did I give my first choice babe (Curtis) my last choice vacation? Yes, I did. But that just tells you the integrity with which I treated this very serious question!!

Thanks for sending it dear!

[hilarychuff]

"Alright, Cunningham," Eddie says, wriggling his way into a comfortable position on his side so he can face her, both of them in matching band tees and sweatpants. “So, I’m no expert like you, but I’m pretty sure this is the part of the slumber party where we talk about all of our crushes. Should we start with the movies? What’d you think about King from Victor/Victoria?” He already knows the answer. She fucking hates the guy. He’d seen her face while James Garner’s character was on screen, watched her brow furrow into an angry frown and her nose wrinkle in disgust when King washed out Norma’s mouth with soap, when he spied on Victoria getting into the bath, when he told her to quit her gig as a female impersonator so she could come be his girlfriend in Chicago instead of his boyfriend in Paris. It’s kind of funny. King had actually been the reason he’d picked this movie. Eddie’s seen it before — Wayne’s got a real thing for Julie Andrews, so they’ve gone through pretty much her whole catalog — but it had been a while back. Still, he’d been prepared to have an entire conversation with Chrissy about King Marchand, the macho man who starts to fall for Victoria before he knows for sure that she’s a woman and not some guy in drag, a nightclub owner and general tough guy who ends up in a pseudo-gay relationship with Julie Andrews’s character. Eddie even had a speech half-planned in his head about how King met a person he didn’t think he would or even could like and found himself attracted to them anyway. About how sometimes you meet someone and their gender just doesn’t matter, the space they occupy in society doesn’t matter, because the connection that exists between you goes beyond that. The things that draw you together aren’t so simple. Don’t always stick to the rules you thought you’d established. How there aren’t really any rules at all. Sometimes you just love someone in whatever way you can. However you can. No matter what the rest of the world thinks when they look at you. The same sort of stuff she’d been saying about her queer cowgirl flick last night. And then they’d gotten to those parts of the movie and, honestly, they were a lot less gay than he’d remembered. It was also clear that Chrissy was not impressed by the love interest — but she holds her tongue now, offering only a tiny shrug. “Um, I didn’t really see what Victoria saw,” is her only answer. “No?” he asks. “Well, how about Lesley Ann Warren? Maybe Norma and her little strip tease is more your type?” “She was OK,” she hedges. “I liked Toddy and Victoria.” “Oh yeah?” It’s interesting to see her mention Toddy, one of the two actually gay men in the movie, but Victoria he can see, especially when she’s dressed up in the tux. “Julie Andrews in tails,” he says. “Kind of like Buckley wearing those blazers.” Chrissy flushes a little, and from the way her mouth twists he can tell she’s biting the inside of her cheek. “Think maybe you’re into that?” he pushes gently. “Girls in coats?”

all the best people see you (all the best people know), chapter 11, a season 4 buckingham au

[candiedspit]

Chocolate Cherries

Toddy was talking his shit again. As we were fucking reversed missionary style, I might as well have been a microphone. Above us, I knew there were those cheesy plastic stars splayed across the ceiling. Toddy’s idea. I watched the freckle on his chin bounce up and down as he spoke. The only way to keep myself sane. 

And then, we’ll go to Cuba and smoke some fat cigars, get twisted on the fumes. And a thousand shots. And billiards. And hot women for me, hunks for you. I want to fuck you on the beach. I want to drive a cadillac. 

I stopped moving and simply laid on top of him. Once he started, there was no stopping him. I could hear the vibrations of his voice rumble through his chest. I loved Toddy; silly little man. He was sweet though he tried to act tough for reasons I still can’t wrap my head around. Maybe he thinks that’s what men do. I got off him after a while and put my clothes back on and went to piss and sat in the love seat, reading from the Bible. 

What are you reading that thing for? Toddy asked, wiping himself with a towel. It’s full of ghosts and lies. It’s basically a fairy tale. 

That’s why I like it, I said. Who thinks of this stuff? I wanna be Christ, with my magic powers and wine and healing people, dressed in white like a baker. He’s like a rockstar; the first rockstar.  

Toddy turned on the television, arranged the antennas so the picture showed up clearly. Then, took a seat on the floor and worked at his thousand piece puzzle. A lion covered in roses. 

Around seven, the phone rang. I picked it up then regretteted it when I realized it was my mother calling. I answered the customary questions. Yes, we were fine. Yes, not too bad. Yes, we had pizza. Yes, I’d like to. When I hung up, I put the phone back on the receiver and rubbed Toddy’s head. 

My mother wants to take us out to lunch next week. 

That’s alright. 

As the evening settled in, I did a little. I stuck the needle into my elbow and Toddy watched. 

A little more at an angle, he said with a hand on my back. 

I nodded and he pulled the needle out as the black magic hit me. As though a witch had wrapped a nest around my head. I couldn’t see. 

Are we in Antartica? I asked, crumbling to the carpet. Toddy rubbed my head. 

No, we’re in America. It’s beautiful here. I love you. And there is chocolate cake in the fridge. Not too sweet. Just how you like it. 

I looked at the window and began to cry. 

Outside, It was starting to snow.

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

For the prompts, I honestly think it would be fun to see Greyson and Matt building a gingerbread house for an event while one (or both) of them is sick

But if you’re looking for suuuuper simple prompts, Elijah locked out of the restaurant because he’s sick and forgot his key?

ghostlychill, you always know just how to get me to write something lmao.

Greyson and Matt sick while making a gingerbread house, under the cut. 500ish words. Thank you for the prompt :) :)

“Hold still.”

It’s Greyson who says it, and Greyson who pulls away moments later. “Huh-! Hh-NGTSHH-ue!”

Matt coughs out a laugh. “‘Hold still’,” he says, mocking. The sous uses his tweezers to gently place a gumdrop on the front door of the house; it barely has time to set before his eyes glaze over. “HTSH! HhIGTZSHH!”

The two of them stand with arms over their noses and mouths, a game of chicken they’ve both already lost. “Bless,” Greyson says first, wiping his nose and sniffling.

“Ditto,” Matt says, coughing into his sleeve before removing his own arm.

They stare at their barely-begun gingerbread house in agony; this Christmas cook-off was supposed to be a fun, silly little event that they were doing to raise some money for charity and get some press for the restaurant. When they signed up for it three weeks ago, they thought it’d be a good excuse to make Elijah close the restaurant on a slow Sunday evening. They’d make their little house, the event would be over by seven, and they’d get to drink hot toddy’s at a Christmas-themed bar until they blacked out. A perfect winter’s night.

Now, it’s nine-thirty pm, the gingerbread house portion of this never-ending event has just begun, and Greyson and Matt are sporting dueling headaches and twin fevers; matching Christmas colds to go with the stupid Christmas sweaters Elijah forced them to wear. They glare at one another, sniffling in tandem.

“Do you think Elijah will find out if we forfeit?” Greyson asks, clearing his throat to save his rapidly-disappearing voice. Matt thinks it over before answering.

“...do we care?” he asks eventually. The two of them glance silently at their sad, dilapidated gingerbread shack, weighing the cost of Elijah’s anger with the agony that is staying in this stuffy, overheated ballroom any longer. Eventually, Greyson crumples back into his elbow.

“HhhETSCCHH-uh! Hh-! HRRTSHH-ue!” He groans into his sleeve, and Matt winces in sympathy.

“You sound like total shit, Cheehhh – ETSHHH-ue!” Matt dips into his hands to catch the sudden sneeze, winces at the spray. Greyson coughs. Several other chefs from the area glance over at them with pity or disgust thinly veiled on their faces.

“Fuck it,”Greyson says, and swipes his hand across their table, wiping their little gingerbread hovel out of existence. “We forfeit,” he calls to no one in particular, prompting a round of nervous laughs from the other participants.

Matt wipes his hands on his apron and Greyson loops his arm around his sous’ shoulders, leading them both out of the ballroom and into the hotel’s lobby bar.

“I think we deserve a drink after that fuckin’ spectacle,” he says, settling Matt onto a bar stool and plopping himself down beside him. The younger man laughs, a throaty sound that immediately turns into a cough.

“I think we deserve the bottle,” Matt says. “HHETSCHH-ue!!”

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 13

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: None- a bit fillery AN: Look, I've been sick for like a week and I'm drinking hot toddies like they're water this weekend so at least my throat won't hurt. I'm sorry in advanced for *anything* that may be posted.

Masterlist

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

Mia hated moving. Growing up in poverty, it was a near annual event for all of her life and it never got easier. The idea of moving alone stressed her out. It made her stomach roll. It was never a pleasant experience. 

At least, that was, until now. 

Tom hadn’t been kidding about the moving crew. She didn’t even have a chance to pack anything before they were at her door, bright and early. All she could really do was keep Sally out of the way, try to hype the child up about how exciting the move was going to be and then send her off to the babysitter’s for her shift. 

That was something she hadn’t thought about before moving. Mia had counted on the connivance of having a babysitter next door. Now she’s have to make the drive back to her old complex to drop Sally off before going into work and then do it again to pick her up. Sure, the new apartment was closer to work but in reality it hadn’t ment anything. 

Tom would probably not mind if she enrolled Sally in a proper preschool on his dime. 

Mia swept the thought away. She wouldn’t do that, not so soon and not without talking to Tom about it first. He’d already spent so much money.

He’d been gone for just over a day and she was right, she did miss him. It was a simple fact that caught her off guard. It left a sweet taste in her mouth as she rolled around the concept. 

That she could deal with fine, overall. What she struggled with most was that Sally missed him. 

Tom had texted when he landed and they had attempted to chat by text while she was getting ready for bed but the conversation was stifled, awkward. 

Now she was busy and so was he, or so she assumed. Maybe he was sleeping? He has texted her early in the morning to bid her a good morning but she hadn’t heard from him since. 

It felt weird to leave the movers in charge of packing her apartment, her whole life while she left for work. They had her mark what was to be disposed of and accepted directions to watch for bugs and call for any questions. If they found anything that they believed would bring bugs to her new home, they were to call her to verify what to do and if she didn’t answer, make a judgment call. 

She had to trust them.

That was a lot of control to give strangers but Tom insisted that he arranged the best. Small appliances and electronics would be cleaned and packed safely. Food would be safely stored during travel and fragile items would be given the most care. Furniture would be disassembled and reassembled at the new apartment for her and she could expect each box to be placed in their assigned rooms. 

Mia insisted on filling a suitcase with her intimate items as well as Sally’s underwear. Sure, they were professionals but it still felt strange to have strangers pack those items. 

~~~~~<3

On her way to work, Mia ran by the new apartment complex. Just as Tom had promised, she got the keys and there was no fuss or surprises. The unit was the same one they were shown and everything was exactly as she was promised. It was clean and well taken care of. Not even the windows had the slightest smear or dirty or finger prints. 

Tom must have told them about the child- it’s disclosed on most leases anyway but it surprised Mia that there was childproofing done to the unit. There was a simple chain lock installed higher up on the balcony doors and a second stronger deadbolt added to the front door as well, higher. Like Mia’s old apartment, this one provided valet trash service. The trash can was the same small black can however rather than being picked up weekly, the service walled the halls nightly and would pick up whenever needed as long as the can was outside before the designated time. 

The front door locked by a programmable key code. It took only a few moments to show Mia how to program a guest code that would expire in twelve hours. She also got a backup key should the battery die or she finds she’s forgotten the code. As was typical of a rental, the office also maintained a hard copy of the key. 

~~~~~<3

It felt good to be at work. At work Mia could dodge questions about her personal life, hide for her breaks and be too busy to chat. She put everything into her work. For just over eight hours of the day, she could just live her normal, not complicated life. 

The small dress and flashy makeup made her look different than she did on her personal time, more dolled up and with a side of glamor. She wondered if anyone would recognize her from the photos of her and Tom. She didn’t even know how well she was shown or if the pictures even showed her face but she worried anyway.

Tom had said not to look and so far she hadn’t. 

Before she knew it, it was one in the morning and it was time for her to go. She was dead on her feet and not looking forward to driving from one end of the valley to the other and back again to get Sally. 

How would her new neighbors feel about her coming home with a small child in the middle of the night? Would the sound of her coming home bother the unit below her? It wasn’t something she had to worry about before, her neighbors in her old apartment were well used to her schedule.

~~~~~<3

Sally was a hard sleeper and didn’t wake while being carried to the car. Mia had always felt bad for the way her work caused her daughter to have a chaotic sleep schedule. Now it would only get worse. 

Once she was strapped in with the windows down, Mia handed Gretchen her payment for the night. She had raised her own kids as a single mother in poverty and knew well the struggles Mia faced and passed on a lifetime of kindness in the forgiving rates she charged Mia. 

She was retired, on social security and food stamps. Gretchen, like most Americans born into poverty, never managed to escape it. Her rent was subsidized and her boys, now men around Tom’s age themselves would send her money and deliveries when they could. 

Nothing official to put on the records but it was enough to ensure their mother was comfortable in her poverty while ensuring she always had access to the programs that would provide for her should they fall on hard times themselves. Generational poverty taught them how to game the system and not feel bad about it.

“That fancy man moving you uptown?” Gretchen was a old school country woman who would talk in country music lyrics if you let her. It always caught a newcomer off guard when she would first speak but Mia had always loved to sink into the warm twang of her voice. 

Gretchen had dark skin that carried deep wrinkles with the scars of battles long ago fought. Her stark white hair was nearly always in a series of simple braids and adorned with small golden trinkets. Sometimes she added vibrant colors to her hair, raking advantage of the blank canvas her age provided. 

People expected urban when they first saw Gretchen but the truth was urban was what her boys, not her. She had fought and sacrificed to give them access to what benefits came with growing up in the city. Her heart was forever in the ranches of Utah, a place where she loved but never really felt like she belonged. 

Being a black woman, she never did fit in there even though she had been born and raised. Too much unconscious and blatant racism both but still, home called to her heart. It was better to stay in the city though. She felt safer having people that looked like her around. 

“Seemed to me it happened pretty sudden. You ain’t have men around much before, now a fancy one is moving you. Better be careful, Girl.” 

Gretchen never called no one by their names. There was always a pet name or nickname regardless of if you wanted it. That was part of her charm and just one more way god had made her beautiful. 

“I promise, I’m being careful.” Gretchen was like a second mother to Mia in many ways. She was forever thankful for the way she would fuss over her and Sally. The love of someone who didn’t have any obligation to love you felt a the more sweet. “The apartment is paid for the year up front. There’s no losing it and I don’t know how much he’s going to be around anyway.” 

“If you say so.” Gretchen opened the driver’s door for Mia, signaling that the time for talking was done and it was time for her to get on going. “Sugar, would it be better if I came to Sally for the next few weeks or so while you get settled?” 

Gretchen was an angel, truly sent by the heavens. 

~~~~~<3

Mia was beyond exhausted when she pulled into her assigned parking spot. Sally was likewise exhausted in the backseat of the car, sleeping soundly. She was excited to see their new home bit there was only so much excitement a kid of her age can manage when it’s two in the morning. 

Carrying the child, Mia made the walk to her unit. The elevator was a godsend, saving her from having to climb stairs to the fourth floor with the dozing child in her arms. 

It felt surreal to unlock the door to the unit. Her unit. Their home. Would he call it his home too? Surely not- he had a home in England somewhere. London, hadn’t he said? 

“We’re home.” Mia whispered softly to the dozing sack of potatoes in her arms. “Let’s take a look around and then get you to bed.”

The apartment was clean and neat, even with all the boxes. Just as promised, the small dining table was assembled in the dining area. Boxes were stacked neatly against the wall, clearly labeled with their contents. Inside the refrigerator and freezer was all their perishable foods.

On the counter was a fruit bowl that she hadn’t owed piled high with fruit. A card was propped in front of the bowl that read: “Welcome Home” and signed by the management. Next to the bowl was a coloring book and simple pack of markers, a box of trash bags, a bottle of dish soap and a pack of sponges. 

It was such a kind gesture that she had never seen before. It felt good to be treated with such respect by the management. Was this what it felt like to not be renting a poverty apartment?

Mia showed Sally the master bedroom so that if she woke in the middle of the night she would know where to go. Next was the hall bathroom between the two bedrooms. The outlet in the hall was topped with a built in nightlight. It was a soft white light. Was that always there or had they made that change for her as well?

The bathroom had a similar built in nightlight above the light switch. When Mia turned the light on, the nightlight turned off automatically. She was sure that light wasn’t there before.

How much trouble did they go through making such small changes for her comfort in the unit? Had Tom asked for it or did they do it themselves? Was it difficult? She hoped it hadn’t cost them much to do. 

In Sally’s room, there was no built in nightlight. She appreciated that, she had been wanting to wean Sally off the nightlights. For now though, they would use the nightlights to keep the dark away. It was hard enough to sleep in a unknown space.

Sally’s bed was assembled and made. Her dresser was placed against the wall with her bookshelf next to it. They had unpacked her books and placed them back on the shelf. The toy bins were placed back in the shelf they belonged to. 

It was a relief to see that the room didn’t have the same level of strangeness that was in the rest of the apartment. The movers had made an effort to settle this room. 

Did that cost extra or were they just that kind?

The bed was made, blankets neatly folded back and waiting for Sally’s little body. Mia had planned to wash the bedding in the morning- the apartment had a built in washer and dryer set- since someone else had been handling them. Moving was a messy business anyway. But as she nestled Sally into her bed, it was clear that wasn’t needed. The bedding was freshly laundered and smelled linen fresh. 

~~~~~<3

She tripped over her dress as they ran through the hotel halls. His laugh, ever so unique and warm seemed to surround her. Holding her hand in his, he kept her on their feet. 

Hurry, hurry- keep running. Run as fast as your legs can take you to your future. Don’t look back. Let him lead. Follow him to the ends of the earth. Her white dress tangled around her legs and she struggled to hold onto the heels in her hands. 

She knew better than to be running around a resort without shoes but couldn’t be bothered to care. This was a fairytale where the floors were clean and no drunk’s vomit or spilled drinks would dirty her feet. 

Tom’s hand reached out and blocked an empty elevator door from closing. As it opened again, he slipped inside, pulling her in with him. The car was empty and they were alone for the first time. Finally alone. 

Oh how good it felt to be alone with him. 

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller @alexakeyloveloki, @jennyggggrrr, @dangertoozmanykids101 @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri @wizardcherryblossom @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @kats72 @soulpiercing

[resowrites]

Toddy - drabble.

Summary: Henry’s girlfriend exacts revenges when his inconsiderate behaviour goes too far…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Girlfriend!OC

Warnings: fluff, banter/British humour, dialogue heavy, language/slight sexy talk, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 744

A/N: My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Toddy - drabble.

"D'ya want a hot toddy?"

"Sod off, I'm not talking to you. Look at me, I'm chilled to the bloody bone." Henry was well and truly getting on her last nerve. He'd not only missed food off the shopping list but also bought the wrong Christmas tree which he'd proceeded to hack apart in the living room. He then broke the chainsaw when she demanded he go outside to finish trimming it and when he requested her help bringing it back inside (he'd scratched loads of paintwork dragging it through the house), he lobbed snowballs at her from behind the garden shed.

"Oh that reminds me, did you defrost the chicken?" She caught the smirk on his face just as he took another glug of the piping hot drink. She chucked the towel she'd been using to dry off right at him.

"Get upstairs and bring the decorations down. Now."

"Hang on, let me have a bloody drink first…"

"I think not. A couple more glasses and you won’t be able to get up there, now go." She shooed Henry out of the kitchen only to feel her backside being thwacked with the towel when she wasn't looking.

***

About fifteen minutes later she heard him yelling her name. She sighed and threw aside the knife she'd been using to chop carrots. How she wished she'd bought it with her though, especially when she saw his grinning face poking through the attic door. "What, you idiot? I'm trying to make lunch."

"I need you to hold the ladder so I can get down, or do you not want the decs?" A thought then crossed her mind and she leisurely moved the ladder aside. "What are you doing? I have to get down, you know I'm too heavy to be up here long." But she ignored Henry and pulled her phone from her back pocket.

"Of course you can come down, darling. But first you'll need to answer these three Yuletide questions." His mouth fell open.

"Are you joking? I'm about to fall through the bloody joist, get the ladder!" She blinked at Henry then cleared her throat.

"What year was the chocolate advent calendar invented?" He stared at her in disbelief. "What? Too hard? I thought you'd easily get that one. Do you want a hint?"

"No, I want the ladder before I crash land in the fucking kitchen."

"Darling, this will go a lot quicker if you just answer the questions. Come on, take a guess." Henry sighed and rubbed his forehead. "No? Okay, well then you have to get the next two correct. Now this one actually has two answers but I'll accept either. What does the Yule log represent?"

"Other than the fact you've lost the fucking plot? This isn't funny, I've got to get down!"

"Well it wasn't funny telling me I've got a fat arse. So here we are."

"I never said that!"

"No? What did you say after you finished pelting me with snowballs, Henry?"

"… I can’t recall."

"Really? Because I believe the exact words were 'it's not my fault your arse is a moving target.'" He waited a beat.

"Well then I never outright said you've got a big arse…" She pursed her lips and reached for the cover of the attic door. "No -- don't trap me up here!"

"Why not? If you're quiet, I'll still bring up your lunch."

"Hold on! You've got a gorgeous arse, darling. Ample but firm--" she sighed and turned to head back down the stairs. "Wait, where are you going?!"

"To sit on it, seeing as how you won't apologise or answer any questions."

"Wait, wait. I'm sorry, okay?! And I don't know the bloody answers!"

"… What else are you sorry for?"

"Everything! I'm sorry for bloody existing, alright--" an ominous groan sounded above her. "SEE?! I need to get down, now!" She somehow managed to keep a straight face.

"Calm down, you've still got one last question. Get this right and we'll call it even. How long does it take for hypothermia to set in? I'd give you a hint but I'm still recovering." Henry wracked his brains.

"Oh wait, hang on… I know this one. Around thirty minutes?" She pouted.

"Sadly that's correct. Oh well, better luck next time I suppose…" She returned the ladder and held it in place but was wise enough to make a run for it the minute his feet touched the floor.

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@marytudorbrandon @luclittlepond

[docholligay]

This was originally a footnote but is now its own unhinged rant

How is it that Montana is so far behind in the hot alochol department? I have seen so many delicious hot alcohols here in the UK and Germany, and I am borderline offended that we don’t seem to have any of that. If you try to get a mulled wine in Montana they will look at you like you have three heads, even though mulled wine is easy, cheap, and, I can’t emphasize this enough, it is constantly fucking freezing between the months of, conservatively, November to February. Our October weather is almost exactly like the UK’s December weather, and yet we have a dozen harvest festivals where the only alcohol everyone is serving is fucking cold beer. What, in the shit, are we thinking, as a people? 

Every time I have had people over to my house for parties in winter, I have to convince them to try the mulled wine and every time I do, they comment on how good it is, and, yes??? The only hot drink I can consistently get in Montana is a hot toddy, and do not mistake me hot toddies are one of my absolute favorite drinks, points to the UK for that one, but I don’t understand why we don’t have the mulled wine and mulled cider and gin toddies and extra shots and all the things that I know would sell at a fall festival. It was so cold at Harvestfest this year! I am legitimately considering applying for a cabaret license, which is fairly cheap in Montana, and seeing if I can fucking rock up to Harvestfest in some cute dirdl thing and be like, “Let me change your fuckin life, Len,” because I don’t have enough to do on a day to day basis. 

Do we have too much sunshine? Is desperation the answer here? I’m willing to do what it takes.

[mendeshoney]

“I can be your kingdom” pls

this one is another installment of the andrei x older woman thing i've got going on because I have zero restraint

"Andrei you cannot be serious right now." You chastise, words coming out in a hissed whisper. "We are in my parents' house."

"Technically," he points out. "We're in the linen closet in the basement of your parents' guest house."

In the low light, he can see your face go blank as you deadpan "I am not letting you fuck me anywhere on this property, period."

"Not even if I get on my knees and beg, moya koraleva?" He asks softly, pulling out every trick in the book he knows to try to get you to cave in.

There's a pause, and even with this shitty lightbulb hanging over the two of you, he can still see the way your brain starts to consider the offer, the way your pupils move as you examine him.

"You're serious?" You ask, tone careful.

He nods. "Da."

The corner of your mouth quirks up slightly. "What exactly about all of this is doing it for you? Was it the apple pie? Or was it the hot toddy's my sister and I made?"

Andrei answers your question by allowing his eyes to fall to where the tights that are the same color as your flesh rest on your legs, and where your knee high socks rest over those tights, tucked behind your knee high boots.

His eyes drag up to that ridiculous skirt next, where he knows you're not wearing a damn thing beneath them or the tights, and then to your chest, where your gray sweater covers the lacy bra he saw you put on earlier.

When he finally meets your gaze again, giving you a pointed stare, you roll your eyes. "You're such a male."

"I don't hear you saying no." He points out. "If you want me to beg, moya koraleva, just say the word and I will."

You bite your lip, considering, and even as you look Andrei over once more, he can already tell you're leaning towards yes, so he doesn't waste another second.

Carefully, he rests his hands on your hips as he lowers himself onto one knee, then the second, and glances up at you from under his lashes.

"Pozhaluysta, moya koroleva. Prosto nemnogo vkusa."

Please, my queen. Just one taste.