#Tiny Tatty Teddy

[bharv]

Happy Gortoween everybody. Thanks @gortash-week for all the food!

Sweet Thing

Modern AU verse Durgetash. Prompts: Costume party, sweet delights, the devil you know. CW implied feederism and coercion.

(This is basically fluff for me.)

“Come on. We’re going out.”

He’s drunk, because of course he is, though he’s not sweating enough yet to have moved onto anything harder. Manva moves to shut the door, but he catches it and moves past her before she has a chance.

“I’m not going anywhere. It’s late.”

“It’s bloody nine-thirty! What is it with your generation. You’re tucking yourself in with your teddies by nightfall.”

“I have a class at six tomorrow.”

“Christ. I didn’t think students got up for anything before ten.”

“A Pilates class, not a class-class.”

She’s already exhausted by his presence. Decked out head-to-toe in black, his hair pushed back and the only hint of colour an ugly pair of red-tipped boots that must have been some designer’s idea of a joke, he strides through the grey of the studio apartment like a fly across a fruit bowl.

“Come on,” he says again as he opens up the fridge and takes out one of her sparkling waters. “Get something black and slinky on and let’s pop out. I’ll have you back by midnight, promise.”

He walks back to her, slipping a hand over her waist, his thumb pushing past the fabric of her vest. There is a smile playing at the edge of his lips, and she knows why. He has already won, and they both know it.

He calls a cab and takes them into old soho, the backstreets of the city that heroically resist the lure of gentrification. They stop down an alley with one illuminated door with missing letters, and she follows him down a narrow staircase that leads to a tatty looking retro diner. There is a DJ feebly playing generic fifties music, and they are led by a lone waiter to the far corner of a tacky, tattered old red Formica booth. She had worried that she was underdressed; the only black clothes she had in her wardrobe was a two piece Lycra workout set, but as she shrugs off her coat she only thinks of how the plastic seats will stick to her arms.

“This can’t be what you’re all dressed up for,” she says as she fingers a sticky menu on the table.

“I’m going on,” he explains as he pulls out a cigarette. “Lady Jannath’s Costume Masquerade.”

She recalls seeing the photos when she was younger in Orin’s copies of Tatler. Wisteria Jannath and her daughters in couture garments that would have been just as welcome at the met ball.

“And where is your costume then?”

“Ah yes,” he replies, and pulls out a cheap pair of plastic horns from his inside pocket that he places on his head with a flourish.

She hates that it makes her laugh. “Hardly up to the dress code, is it?”

“Dress code is for people coming through the front to be papped,” he explains, lighting his cigarette and taking a long, measured pull. “I’m there for the real party. Oh, I almost forgot…”

He pulls out a tiny witches hat from the jacket, a delicate little hair clip that he reaches across to place on her head.

She flinches. “I don’t do Halloween.”

He scowls, pulling his cigarette from his mouth and flicking ash across the table. “Why not? Lighten up a little.”

“It’s not… for me. I don’t want to.”

“Come on. Don’t be such a little-”

“You can’t smoke indoors, Mr Gortash.”

A heavy, masculine, and above all exhausted voice pulls her out of their little bubble. She feels embarrassed as she looks up at the poor waiter, who is surely only doing his job and is sick of late-night nonsense like-

“Quite so,” Enver replies with a smile, and takes another quick puff before pulling out his wallet. “Bring me an Old Fashioned, two Ring-a-ding-ding burgers, and a milkshake. Chocolate, dear? Strawberry?”

He doesn’t even look at her as he pulls out a wedge of cash and folds it for the waiter. It must be at least three hundred.

“I don’t want anything,” she tells him.

He smiles at the waiter and puts the money in his hand before leaning back.

“Chocolate, I think. With all the toppings. Bring it over with the whiskey bottle and then leave us be, there’s a good chap.”

The food arrives and it is fine, nothing remarkable, with generous portions of fries and beef-bacon instead of pork. She looks around the room as Enver talks about his day, something about international markets that is impossible to follow as he tops up his glass, and notices that the room is full of suited men with women. Some look younger, others perhaps hired. All of them tucked away, just like she is, in dimly-lit booths.

“Why did we come here?” she asks him as she dips one of her fries in the melting ice cream. “We could have stayed at mine.”

“Maybe I wanted to treat you.”

“But not enough to take me to the party.”

“Would you have wanted to go?”

She considers it, just for a moment. The crowded space, the photographs. The feeling of hanging on his arm. “…No.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“But why here?”

“It’s an old favourite. Now come on. You’ve barely touched your food.”

She looks down at the half-eaten burger and seemingly endless chips. She already knows how heavy her body will feel tomorrow on the reformer, how it will sit on her chest.

“I’m done.”

“Truly?” He moves closer to her, and runs his hand over her stomach openly as he leans into her neck. The feeling of shame lurches in her as she tries to pull away, but there is nowhere to go as she traps his hand in hers. “You don’t feel full at all,” he murmurs against her neck. “And there’s not much to hide behind, is there?”

“Enver-“

“Fine. If you’re sure.”

The hand on her stomach slips from her grasp, chasing up her skin as he leans in to kiss her. The kiss is hard, forceful, and she almost chokes on it as she pulls away.

“I want to go home,” she tells him, her hand reaching to try to find her coat as he laughs at her.

“Then go! Do you want to go back to the home that I pay for, the one I furnished and supply for you with only the ask of your company in return, or would you prefer to go back to your real home?”

He leans in and kisses her again, and she can feel her head swirl as if he has drugged her. She knows he has not, would not.

It wouldn’t be so fun for him if he had.

He pulls away, holding her by the back of her neck. “A girl your age should be out at a party, getting felt up in the corner by some quivering boy for a quick fumble in the dark,” he tells her. “Chasing little memories, gathering little discretions for the diary. But you’re not there. And you’re not at home. You’re here, with me, and you’re here because you like it. You like what I am.”

She breathes in the scent of him, takes in the feeling of his thumb moving down her collarbone and his other hand reaching down her thigh as everything dissolves but him. Smoke and ash, the silly plastic devil horns an unnecessary addition.

Perhaps it is better to stick with the devil you knew, after all.

[hellslittleprince]

Had Ash not fully expected it to end with his blood all over the walls, he would've laughed. Not at Yongsun, not at the situation or the loss of what was clearly a very cherished member of the family... But at the fact that finally, finally, someone seemed to see the cracks in Lucifer's facade as clearly as he did. Others were finally seeing that daily, more and more innocent people were being torn apart for whatever point Lucifer was trying to make, and to this day Ash still couldn't understand it. When he'd started this jobs, there'd been more pups than he could learn the names of. Now, there were maybe just over a hundred.

They were trying to create more, of course, but if Lucifer kept sending for them the moment they grew old enough, there'd be no chance of keeping up.

He was so quiet, so lost in pained, angry thought that he missed Squirt bounding back over. Missed the way the pup immediately lifted onto his hind legs, tiny front paws resting against Yongsun's leg with a somewhat tatty looking teddy hanging from his jaw. He missed it, right up until it was too late.

When he blinked back to the moment, with half-baked thoughts dancing on his lips, he caught it, sighing at the sight. "Sorry, he's... He's always been great at telling when people are... hurt." he mumbled, "He won't bite."

And even with those reassurances, his mind was racing. Wolf... come back injured twice, talking about a stranger, and then disappears from his pack not long later. Hounds with human forms were sometimes harder to predict, but... not that much harder. Eyes on Squirt for a moment, watching the way his head tilted back and forth, Ash's own thoughts started to knit together.

"I heard... he came here alone, right? Crawled in here on his own? Which means he had a life before. Could be someone from before. But it still wouldn't be enough for him to leave on his own. Not if he's stayed through multiple painful experiences. If what you're saying about Lucifer is true, and fuck, I believe it with my entire damn being, then... I wouldn't believe him, personally. Wherever Wolf's gone, for whatever reason... Lucifer knows more than he's telling. I'd bet my life on it. Hell, I'd bet my pup's lives on it."

Guilt was a weird thing. A weird, stupid thing. Doubly so when just the sight of a young little runt, timid but eager, trying to make his way over suddenly filled Yongsun's chest with it. Every single bone in hiss body tore in half, wanting to hold the pup, coo at him and play and another half that couldn't shake the feeling that not a single cell in his body deserved to. It came again, after a small breath left him as the runt trotted off. Really. What even was he? He Who Devours, whose heart trembled like a leaf at the sight of a tiny, scrappy little hound.

But fuck what came next sure as shit didn't help. Because of course Wolf was part of his pack... But for some reason, hearing it from somebody else just made his absence all the more gutting. And maybe.. just maybe that was why the that last little question stoked flames of pure ire in his gaze and pinched his lips in disgust.

"When hasn't there been?" It fell in a slow whisper, soft and quiet like the beaches before a hurricane, barely holding so, so much back. The glowing of his eyes, now slits, betrayed him here, though, as he looked off to the side in thought.

"Being at First's side these past years... Hardly a single one of us hasn't gotten carved up or left half alive by his enemies.. Nobody has really....Nobody but him." He didn't bother softening the way his growled out the last bit as the realization of that truth really hit him. Here and now, in a stranger's home, searching for a member of his family, his pack that First, ever unscathed, promised had just turned tail and run.

"Somebody under The Unnamed's control tried killing him and one of my brothers not too long ago... Nearly took me out in the process of trying to heal them.. Then again...a handful of months back. He kept it close to his chest so.. Whatever it was, it had to have shaken him pretty bad. I was just there when Yang brought him to be healed. He---" Lips pulled to a line and brows knit. The flame in his eyes extingushing for just a moment as his throat closed over the words, mind trying to close away the memory.

"His arm was broken. Kept whimpering something about how he... 'Tried' 'Still wasn't strong enough' ... Somebody named.. Fang or something like that.. I don't..." He swallowed a little, eyes to the floor, head shaking just once. "Don't think many people know. Dunno if he even knows but.. That first night he was healing? He cried that name a few times. Asking him to 'come with us', apologizing for not being strong enough still.. I don't know what to make of it but.. After that he just.. Nothing felt right.."

[esthrmend]

Going Home Baby Layout- KaiserCraft- White Rose Crafts

Going Home Baby Layout- KaiserCraft- White Rose Crafts

Welcome Back! I took a small break from my duties over at White Rose Crafts but I’m back. I will be working on baby layouts for the next few months so make sure to follow along this crafty journey. I used KaiserCraft Barber Shop Collection, Tim Craft Tiy Tatty Teddy – Pearls, and my Cricut for the circles. Going Home: Close Ups: Items Used: KAISERCRAFT BARBER SHOPPE KAISERCRAFT PAPER PAD…

[tsarisfanfiction]

Heroes Made of Gas

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: John, Jeff

Yes, another contribution to @gumnut-logic‘s #iirelief, this time using the prompt “A brother scared of the dark. (Bonus points if you include Jeff or Grandma Tracy)” from @louthestarspeaker.

A spaceman and his stars. 

Looking out from Thunderbird Five, John’s favourite view was watching the sunrise wash across the surface of the Earth.  He had pinpointing the exact moment dawn broke on Tracy Island down to an art, even without technology to guide him (EOS had expressed surprise that any human was capable of such a thing, even if it was him).  Thanks to the nature of the atmosphere, wisps of cloud trailing across various parts of the planet at any given time, it was an ever-changing vista and one he could truly never tire of.

The other view rarely changed – at least, not without looking through a telescope for the subtle shifts. Beyond Earth, past the red spark that was Mars and further, further away in the reaches of space that not even Alan had managed to reach, were the stars.  Hung in the sky like a curtain of diamonds, they were the steady, silent guardians of memories.

When John wanted to think about the here and now, or the future, he looked to Earth and the tiny speck that was Tracy Island, where his family belonged.  When John wanted to reminisce, he looked to the stars.

A favourite memory of his, and one that had run through his mind many, many, many times since he took up residence of the satellite, was also one of his earlier ones.  It was sometime back when he didn’t have four brothers – he could never quite remember if it was before or after Gordon graced them with his loud, obnoxious presence, but he was fairly sure Virgil had at least graduated to throwing paint where it should go instead of the walls and lalalaing in some sort of vaguely-comprehensible melody (much to his younger self’s distress; he hadn’t come to appreciate Virgil’s voice until some years later, but that was a different memory).  He might have been five, maybe six if Gordon existed, but the only thing that really mattered about it was that Dad was there.

Dad wasn’t always there during his childhood.  Lee – Uncle Lee, back then – would come along and regale them all with outlandish stories before whisking him away for months at a time.  Mom raised them by herself for much of the time, with Scott leaping in to help at any opportunity (for all that Scott tried to emulate Dad and asked ‘what would Dad do’, John vividly remembered his older brother being a Mommy’s boy as a kid.  Then again, they all had been, except Alan).

But Dad had been there, this time.  Mom had been in bed, Scott had been… somewhere, either in bed or dealing with Virgil, John couldn’t recall, and John’s little nightlight had died.

John was scared of the dark. Always had been, and probably always would be.  He didn’t do rescues in dark, dingy places unless he had a guaranteed light source, and Thunderbird Five’s lights never turned off.  It was one of the things that made her so perfect for him.

Dad had come in, a sixth sense telling him his second son was in distress even as John muffled tears of terror in his blankets and hugged a then not-too-tatty teddy bear close to his chest (the tales of the teddy bear were, again, another story).  Jeff Tracy wasn’t good at the whole comforting-crying-children thing, and was always the first to admit it, but that night he’d scooped John straight out of bed, blankets, teddy and all, and carried him to the window.

That was a night sky John would never forget.

The stars had shone brightly, their little pocket of Kansas far enough away from the conurbations of light that there was nothing to curb their glow.  Dad had known each constellation, pointing them out to him in turn and telling him the stories behind them until John’s tears stopped and wonder overtook him.

In subsequent nights, the stars became his friends, Orion standing guard over his dreams with Canis Major loyally at his heels.  It might not have been a cure, but it was a comfort.

“The stars will always be there,” Dad had told him, when he’d worked up the courage to ask how long they’d guard him for.  “You might not always see them, but they’re always there.”

Now, of course, John knew better.  Stars were balls of gas and had a life cycle of their own.  They weren’t heroes there to guard him in the night, bravely chasing away the fear of the dark.  But their little pinpricks of light still stopped the dark from being all-encompassing, and he found comfort in them just the same.

[bohemian-rhapsody-slash]

Could you write something featuring james and andy's dynamics when they were kids?

“Look, James,” Roger says softly. “Andy’s got something for you.”

James rubs his eyes with tiny fists, blinking up at the older boy miserably.

Andy bites his lip and shyly takes a teddy bear out from behind his back. It’s a bit old and tatty, a very used teddy bear, and one of the button eyes have been sewn back on, most likely by John.

“For me?” James asks hesitantly.

Andy nods. “I know you’re sad that you left yours behind at the park yesterday and lost him. I don’t really play with mine anymore, so you can have him.”

James blinks at the bear with wide blue eyes.

“I know he’s not the same,” Andy says quickly. “I know he’s not as good as yours. But I don’t like to see you crying and he’s really good for cuddles.”

James reaches out and takes the bear. “Thank you, Andy,” he says in awe, before holding the bear close to his chest and hugging him tightly.

“Isn’t that nice of Andy?” Roger grins, stroking his son’s hair.

“Yeah.” James nods happily. “I’ll take good care of him, Andy. Promise.”

Andy beams.

“Why don’t you give Andy a kiss to say thank you, James?”

The younger boy eagerly waddles over to Andy, and tugs at the older boy’s jumper to make him lean down. Andy does so with a blush, and smiles when James places a tiny smooch on Andy’s cheek.

(N.B: James still has that teddy bear as an adult, even after he’s claimed by Andy.)

[naenaex0xx]

jsbjdbdb omg thanks for tagging me (again) TᵕT

you can call me nae-nae or nae :3

picrew link here!

something I'm passionate about:

it may or may not be an obvious one, but I really really reaaaally love music! I've had a connection with it my whole life anyways (I played the piano since I was 5), so I genuinely dunno what I'd do if music wasn't a part of my life. music is the bestest and I really wanna make music people will love and hopefully feel comforted by (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

my favourite way of spending free time:

honestly, I just love spending time with friends, even if we're not chatting or messing around together. it just feels nice to do my own thing in someone else's presence, while being able to have someone to ask advice or genuinely just goof off. it rlly adds that extra spark to just doing things in life TᵕT

quote/piece of advice that stuck:

there's one thing I've been trying to stick with lately, "do it bad". I've been struggling to just start certain things because I expect to much, so I'm trying to push myself to do it even if I feel largely uncomfortable with however "bad" it may be. Another thing I tend to follow with anything is "better to do something than nothing at all" ♡

my go-to comfort food:

it definitely has to be cornmeal porridge. maybe because it has something to do with my culture, or maybe it's simply comforting, but I love it! I usually crave it most when I'm sick, n my mom makes it taste amazing. I've gonna ask how she does it one day .. (i will defo add the recipe one I get it – all I rember is that you use cornmeal powder n condensed milk n some cinnamon or whatever substitute you'd like ^^)

oh also peach tea !!!! it's the first tea I tried (outside of caffeinated tea) and I fell in love.. it helped me get through all my final exams so much n I still love it to this day,,, peach tea my beloved<3333

the most meaningful gift I've given/received:

hmmmmm welllll I'm not good at giving gifts, and I'm terrible at looking after gifts. makes me feel like a bad friend TᵕT there was this one gift a friend gave me, it was a tiny hedgehog made out of some porcelain thingy, and it seemed to me hand painted. I could carry it on my finger and I adored it so much!!!! I wish I still knew where it was (he was just a lil fella ..)

one random fun fact about me!

i can't think of much ... but uhhhh, I have about 7 kirby plushies n a waiter waddle dee, and I wanna add more to the collection (not to mention the kirby/splatoon/animal crossing amiibos)! I also have a bunch of tatty teddy scattered about, and I have two shelves of lalaloopsy dolls. I definitely wanna go to the kirby cafe one day !!

im looking at you (🫵) join in 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵

Tag Game!!

I thought it'd be fun to make a tag game for everyone, so here's my version!!

alongside this picrew, and 2 pictures you think describes you, and answer some questions about yourself.

What’s something you’re really passionate about, and how did you discover it?

What’s your favorite way to spend a weekend or free time?

What’s a piece of advice or a quote that has stuck with you over the years?

What’s your go-to comfort food or drink when you’re feeling down? (Bonus points if you can give a recipe)

What’s the most meaningful gift you’ve ever given or received

Bonus: What’s a random fun fact about yourself that most people don’t know?

i'll go first

I'm Alyssa!

What’s something you’re really passionate about, and how did you discover it?

Mythology! I've been super into mythology in general since I was in middle school, and i can just talk about it for hours. I first discovered it when my friend forced me to read Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson series, and it spiraled from there.

What’s your favorite way to spend a weekend or free time?

Most of the time I have to take extra classes during weekends, but other than that I read whenever I can! Be it a physical copy, a pdf or even fanfiction I spend most of my time reading. But when I can find some time for myself I either write or make bracelets. Sometimes I work on my ocs' lore with my friend, so it really depends on how busy I am at that moment.

What’s a piece of advice or a quote that has stuck with you over the years?

My mom once told me "If someone isn't willing to value you or your efforts, don't waste your time on them. Don't give your all to people who won't do the same." And while it sounds mean at first, it's actually helped me over the years.

What’s your go-to comfort food or drink when you’re feeling down? (Bonus points if you can give a recipe)

Sütlaç has been one of my top comfort foods for years now. It's a Turkish dessert made with rice, milk and sugar (and cinnamon, honey or nuts if i'm feeling fancy) Though sometimes i make cookies instead!

What’s the most meaningful gift you’ve ever given or received?

I made over 300 paper stars in a sitting for my friend, each star representing a day i'd have known her on her birthday. I chose paper stars because they meant a lot to her. I also got her a (plastic) rose because she told me she thought she'd never get flowers from anyone.

Bonus: What’s a random fun fact about yourself that most people don’t know?

I used to be afraid of dogs when I was younger. The reason was because my granddad had a little dog that loved running around. Whenever we went to visit my grandparents the little thing would chase me around the garden until one of us dropped because of exhaustion. I think this was my first childhood trauma.

Tagging (no pressure!) : @romaritimeharbor , @kopivie , @ruruumin , @strxnged , @femivi +

@mlkbwunnies , @aureusveill , @milk-violet , @camvrin , @strryskys + anyone who would like to join!

[hotheadhero]

Snow Day! || kid!Caspar & Sylvain

starter for @gallantgautier let’s get all them snow shenanigans in here 👀

“Whoa…”

It never snowed this much in Enbarr or in Fort Merceus—or at all, for that matter—and little Caspar’s eyes were agog at the sight of all the white fluffballs falling from the sky. It all looked like the cotton fluffs he pulled off his tatty old teddy bear, but cotton was never this cold, nor did it disappear the moment he tried to grasp it. The boy squirmed and twisted in Sylvain’s grip, trying his darnedest to catch one of the elusive fluffs, not at all realizing how difficult it was now for the other to hang onto him while simultaneously leading an admittedly tame horse over the rugged, snow-covered fields of Faerghus. Caspar just couldn’t help it; all of this was so amazing! White mountains, white trees; (cold) pillows to play in for days, what wasn’t there to love? He was still flailing when the first flake finally landed in his hand, and Caspar immediately stuck it into his mouth before it could disappear again. Of course, it melted on his tongue; but unlike other questionable things he’d eaten before, this snowflake didn’t make him violently sick straightaway--so were these things edible? So cool! Why didn’t they have any of this back in Merceus? Inquisitively, he poked a hand out of Sylvain’s cloak, questing for more falling flakes, heedless of the biting cold. Most of the tiny crystals fell right past him or melted in his hand before he could show them to the older redhead, but then came a point where their pace slowed and he could collect a whole bunch of it in his stubby little hands. The seven-year-old giggled. “Why didn’t you tell me you could eat this, Uncle Sylvain? Here, have some!”

And then he promptly shoved it all in Sylvain’s face without even waiting for the redhead to twitch his mouth open.

The sight of his guardian’s face all dusted in white, with little flakes crusting his hair and eyelashes, made Caspar laugh. “Haha, you look like Saint Nick now!” he chortled. Normally such behavior had him literally rolling about on the floor, but the moment he started to tip back, he felt a horrible falling sensation and hastily grabbed onto the front of his guardian’s coat before he could fall off the horse. Sylvain’s chest was warm, and he promptly buried his snow-catching hand in the other’s scarf. His very audible sniff did nothing to dull the excitement in his eyes as his bright gaze shifted between Sylvain and the snowy road ahead of them. Uncle Sylvain was so cool if he got to grow up in all this, and he was from so far away too! Why hadn’t Father ever introduced him to him and Julian before?

Half the reason they were out here was because Uncle Sylvain had told him all kinds of fantastic stories about snowmen and snow monsters and brave knights riding dogs as big as horses and sledding and none of it sounded like anything he’d ever seen back home. A few questions and wheedling pleas later, he’d convinced Sylvain to take him to Faerghus for a day just to see it all. The boy tried to be patient, he really did; he knew Sylvain had a special place in mind he wanted to show him before they could finally play; but he hadn’t counted on the journey taking so long (and he probably wasn’t making it any easier on Sylvain, what with his every other question being a constant refrain of “Are we there yet?”). But still—if they had stopped moving by now, had they finally arrived?

“Are we—” The boy’s question was cut off by a mighty sneeze that went straight into Sylvain’s scarf. Nonchalantly, he wiped the remaining gunk off his nose with the soiled end and looked innocently up at the redhead. “Are we there yet?” he asked.

[intizzies]

JAM  SANDWICHES  -  a  study  in  connie  and  childhood . 

pls  do  not  read  if  you’re  easily  triggered .  implications  of  sa ,  abuse  &  drug  usage . 

“It’s jelly, not jam!”

Hazy memories are still jarring, softly seeping through her mind as she drifts off to sleep. 

“I don’t care, my Daddy calls it jam!”

Little girl wearing brown boots glares at her friend playing in the stream, brown hair in two thick plaits, resting on her shoulders. Brown eyes narrowed in conflict, staring straight into blue eyes opposite.

Wendy, her friend, places little hands on her hips. She has a little smirk on her little face and she giggles a little giggle. 

“Your Daddy is stupid. Jam’s not an American word.” she raises her little eyebrows. 

“He’s not American. He’s Irish. And he’s not stupid, you bitch!”  

Connie Ripsom makes contact with Wendy’s face with her fist and she bolts upright. 

Her room is white and chipped and peeling like her lipstick she hasn’t taken off. Anger fills her throat till she can’t swallow and she’s frozen like she always is until she moves her fist. This time, it’s shaking, and she unfurls her fingers to take the week old bottle of water from the floor beside her bed. 

“Don’t drink that, Connie! It’s a week old at least. Who knows how long it’s been there?” A woman hisses from the front seat. She’s sulking because her husband has forgotten to pack drinks for their lunch. From the middle seat, a young girl with dark brown hair in pigtails sips on a carton of apple juice. Her Mother always carries one in her purse. It’s the girl’s favourite.

Connie puts the bottle back, one leg crossed over the other. Her shorts are too short and she knows it, but she’s practically an adult now, so it doesn’t matter. She’s not. She’s thirteen. 

The back of her neck burns but she doesn’t move her legs. She knows he’s watching from the other side of their sister. She still doesn’t move her legs… 

“I made jam sandwiches, kiddos.” Connie’s Dad puts his thumbs up in the driver’s seat. Connie’s heart stutters and she smiles just slightly. 

She crumples up the plastic in her hand and unscrews the top, shaking hands powdery - the remains of something she also had under her nose. She throws her head back and chokes on stale water, oxidised and poisonous. She thinks it tastes worse for her than the angeldust she had earlier. Her Mother was right.

Her head swims and rocks like a boat and she hates how sick she feels in the pit of her stomach. The front door clicks open and slams shut and Connie’s breathing becomes laboured. She crawls across her bed and her eyes fall on her tatty old teddy bear with a stained bowtie. That bear has never been washed. 

Teddy bear and glass of milk in hand, rosy-cheeked Connie Ripsom bites into a strawberry jam sandwich. Her older brother bites into his strawberry jam sandwich, too. Jam spills out of the sides. Connie giggles and Randy grins, wiggling his sticky fingers at her. 

Her little sister cries from her highchair and her Mother picks her up. Connie and Randy stop grinning and observe their Mother coo at the perfect little baby. The woman smiles down at the tiny human and looks up. 

“Wash your hands. You’ll get jelly everywhere.” she rolls her eyes and carries Betty upstairs. 

Connie whispers ‘jam’ under her breath and her brother peels back the bread from his meal. He scoops up the filling with his finger and leans across the table, unceremoniously wiping it on Connie’s nose. She laughs a laugh only a three and a half year old girl could laugh, and she claps. 

“Jam.” Randy nods and licks his fingers. 

She can’t leave her teddy there. She picks him up and throws him under her bed. 

“Connie!” 

She wishes she could still fit under there, too. 

“Connie!”

Fourteen year old Randy Ripsom has his friends over. They’d been giving each other chinese burns in the room next door. She has to be ready. She’d been cross-legged on her little bed since they’d come home from playing in the stream, staring at the wall at the end of her room, her teddy in her arms. Connie’s nails dug so hard into his fur that the stitching beneath was starting to fray. 

And when he calls her name, she takes her teddy and wriggles under her bed. The record playing in the next room is suddenly louder and distorted in her little twelve year old mind. She wishes he wouldn’t call her name like that, she wishes he wouldn’t even notice her. Maybe this time - 

There’s a herd of footsteps down the landing, bare wooden planks ricocheting echoes across the house. Her Mother has to have heard, please, this one time…

Maybe this time - 

All five of them are over today. She sees the pairs of shoes in her doorway as it’s flung open in a hurry. 

“Connie, you’re so stupid. That never works.” 

Her neck feels fuzzy, like she’s stood too close to the fire. There’s a hand on her hair and it yanks, but she doesn’t feel anything. She crawls out from under her bed, and there’s laughter. 

“What are you doing with this thing? You’re too old for teddies now.” Randy grabs her toy and drops it immediately. “What the hell is that shit on it?” His friends laugh harder. 

She doesn’t like how he’s saying it. Doesn’t he remember the jam sandwiches they had for lunch? Connie hates teenage boys.

“Have you been playing without us? I thought I told you not to…” 

There’s a clink of metal, a zip and Connie’s mind goes blank, fuzzy like her neck. 

“What the fuck do you want?” she groans, voice faint and wavering. She doesn’t like the way it comes out. Whatever she’s taken is still in her system. 

“Sounds like you’re happy to see me.” eighteen year old Randy leans in her doorway. His arms are smudged with motor grease. Connie hates the way his tank top parades his muscles like they’re things she shouldn’t be scared of. “What are you on?” he takes off his combat boots and throws them across her room, already reaching to his belt. 

“I ‘unno. Whatever was on the fucking table.” she shuffles across her bed to sit on her pillow. 

“Why are you wearing that?” her brother’s nose crinkles in self-repulsion as he looks her up and down. 

“Thought I’d get my Betty on, Randy-Pandy,” Connie cackles her spiteful little laugh only a fifteen year old girl could laugh. “Why, don’t you like it?” she flips her hair, hands on her hips, kneeling forward. 

Reginald “Belch” Huggins is thoroughly distracted. He’s caught her and Henry will be mad, but this is definitely a first. 

Connie Ripsom flips her hair as she sits on the grassy bank next to him, on her knees, leaning forward, fluttering her eyelashes. Her breath smells like strawberry jam.

He’s got to admit, she’s pretty. Eyes like a bug’s and a nose like a pug’s, but pretty. 

Plus, she’s hot now. His eyes snap back up to meet hers again.

“Come on Belchy Baby, you don’t want to let Henry have all the fun, do you?” she grins lopsidedly, screaming at herself in her head. Calm down, Connie, she tells herself. She supposes it’s fun… And it’s not like he’s someone else she’d rather not think about. 

“I dunno, Henry-”

“I won’t get you into trouble. I’ll still be here to entertain Henry when we’re done. You just have to take me somewhere quieter, that’s all.” Connie’s bug-eyes flicker from Belch’s to the long grass over his shoulder. They’d be catching up soon, and she doesn’t want to face Henry Bowers and Patrick Hocksetter and least of all Victor Criss. Least of all Victor Criss because she actually likes him. 

“... Okay.”

It’s easier to fuck up with people you don’t like.

“Got a light?”

“You don’t like your other sister so much, do you?” she reaches for her lighter balancing on the windowsill. 

“Shut up, you little bitch.” Randy spits at her. He knows she’s done this on purpose. She knows it too, although maybe influenced by her state of mind. 

“No, that’s Betty. I’m a jammy cow, remember?” Connie laughs again, and Randy snaps. He takes his big beefy hands and slams them into the side of his younger sister’s face, pressing her head against the wall. She’s still laughing. 

Connie tries to remember when she stopped trying to fight back. 

The pressure from Randy’s fingers increases as he pushes down, Connie’s head pounding. She wonders when it’ll be over. Maybe he’ll make her head explode and all her brains will flop out onto his hands. 

And like that, Randy freezes. 

“What can I smell?” he asks, the same self-repulsed look of disgust creeping across his face. 

“Made you a jam sammy.” Connie gestures with her hand (as her head is currently occupied). 

“You did what?” the older boy’s voice is far away. 

“Strawberry.” 

She crawls out from under Randy’s grip and offers him the plate on the nightstand. He takes half of the sandwich and she takes the other. 

Connie sits next to her brother, mascara smudged as usual. She closes her eyes and lets the flavour of the strawberry take over the metallic sting of the blood on the inside of her cheek. 

She wonders if her Dad will notice they’re out of jam. 

Probably not. 

She bites down onto the inside of her cheek and swallows. 

Connie opens her eyes and resolves to buy herself a jar.

[greymantledlady]

imagine it’s a wet, cold, rainy sunday

and steve wakes up to the sound of rain on the windows, and tony warm and cuddly and curled into steve’s neck, fast asleep and snoring very quietly. steve turns his head and kisses the soft warm skin of tony’s forehead.

he can hear peter in his cot bed in the next room, singing a quiet baby song to himself and playing with his toys. steve smiles to himself but doesn’t move, because peter’s happy and tony is a warm trusting weight along steve’s side. he wants tony to sleep for as long as possible, because tony’s been burning himself out lately, looking after peter.

steve doesn’t expect the quiet to last for long, of course, because while peter doesn’t mind playing by himself, he’s got a sixth sense about when his dads are awake. sure enough, soon he hears little scampering feet and muffled giggles, and then peter’s soft brown head appears at the side of the bed, chubby fingers tugging insistently at the covers.

‘papa!’ he says. ‘up!’

steve smiles. ‘morning, petey-pumpkin,’ he murmurs. ‘shh-h, daddy’s sleeping. only quiet people allowed on the bed, okay?’

‘i be quiet,’ peter says instantly, in a loud whisper. steve feels tony’s mouth curve in a little smile against his neck, but his eyes stay closed, his body relaxed and soft. steve smooths his hand down tony’s back, and then reaches out with his other arm to scoop peter up on to the bed with them.

'up you come,’ he whispers, 'remember, no loud voices.’

peter nods solemnly and cuddles into steve’s other side, propping his tatty brown teddy on steve’s chest and tucking a thumb into his mouth. steve strokes his hair.

soon, peter’s thumb pops wetly out of his mouth. 'daddy sleeping,’ he says, leaning forward so he can see tony’s face.

'that’s right,’ steve tells him. 'daddy’s real tired. he needs his sleep.’

peter climbs over onto steve’s chest so he can get close to tony, gently patting tony’s arm with one little paw. he curls up between them both, looking up at steve. 'i help,’ he says. 'i help daddy sleep, papa, see? i help.’

steve chuckles. 'yes, you are helping, it’s very good,’ he says, tapping peter gently on the nose. 'can you hear the rain, sweetheart?’

peter listens, head tipped to one side. 'pap-pap-pap-pap-pap,’ he says. 'makes sounds.’

'yes, it does,’ steve says. 'maybe if you’re real good we can go up top with daddy later and play in the puddles. Would you like that?’

'YES,’ peter says gleefully, forgetting to be quiet. 'puddles! papa, i love puddles. i splash. i splash in my red boots, papa?’

'yes, your red rainboots,’ steve confirms, smiling. 'but quiet voices, remember?’ he looks down at tony, running a hand over tony’s messy curls; tony’s eyes slowly open, hazy and soft with sleep.

'what’s all this about puddles?’ he murmurs.

'daddy!’ peter says delightedly. 'wakey up! look papa!’ he flings himself on tony, wrapping chubby arms around him and nuzzling his forehead into tony’s chest. 'lovey lovey lovey,’ he sing-songs. 'lovey huggy.’

'love you too, baby boy,’ tony says, his voice morning-rough, and he slides an arm around peter and cuddles him.

steve strokes a gentle thumb over tony’s jaw. 'morning, beautiful,’ he says, and bends down to kiss tony’s cheek, ghosting his lips up to drop a second tiny kiss on the tip of tony’s nose. tony scrunches it, smiling, and then leans up to press warm sleep-soft lips to steve’s chin.

peter pops his head up at that. 'i kiss too,’ he says earnestly, and then plants a big wet one on steve’s neck. 'i kiss, papa. i kiss you!’ he giggles and then falls on tony again. 'i kiss my daddy,’ he says into tony’s shoulder. 'i kiss you, daddy. i doing kisses.’

'i can feel them,’ tony tells him, grinning up at steve. he runs his fingers through peter’s hair, and kisses his forehead.

and steve puts his arms round both of them, a warm safe circle, holding them close. later, they’ll get up, and steve will make rainy-day pancakes for breakfast while tony dresses peter, and there will be splashing in puddles on top of the tower, and cuddling with blankets and hot chocolate on the couch afterwards, and it will be wonderful, everything steve has ever wanted in the world.

but for now - tony is soft and warm and comfortably tucked into steve’s side; and peter is sleepy again, clutching steve’s shirt, his other small hand gently petting the side of tony’s face. and steve looks down at them both, and he’s simply happy.

'love you,’ he whispers, and tony smiles softly against his shoulder.

'love you back.’

(more ficlets under the 'stevetony ficlet’ tag on my blog)

(might do a follow up later with the puddle splashing)

[80smikewheeler]

Whenever the boys go over to Mike’s house to play D&D, or have a sleepover, Holly Wheeler always finds herself wandering down into the basement after them. 
She often gets bored and lonely, everyone else in the house usually being too busy with other things to play with her. So, curious as to why the boys always disappear down there for what seems like an eternity or two, she frequently follows them down there, carefully clambering down the old wooden steps of the basement. When she reaches the bottom, she usually sees the boys huddled around the D&D table, shouting and laughing as they play.

Sometimes, Will will be over in the corner working on his latest masterpiece, trying not to get paint all over the floor. (Once, while Will was painting a portrait of Mike’s basement, and adding in all the colourful hues, he accidentally spilt paint all over Karen’s rug, but Mike being Will’s best friend, and kind hearted as always, took the wrap for him, and said it was him who knocked over the paint jar. Will worked for days on a portrait of Mike, to say thank you, which Mike hung up proudly on his cork board, which were full of his talented best friends’ little paintings and drawings.)

Holly often approaches Mike and asks can she play, or usually just stares at Mike in a puppy-dog kind of way, which Mike takes as her asking to play with them. Mike hates to be mean to Holly, but she can get winey very easily, and she doesn’t understand how to play, and as any sister does, she annoys Mike at times. He usually tells her to, “Go away.” And “Go and find Nancy, she’ll play with you.” But Will always feels bad at seeing little Holly sulk off, looking sad and lonely, gripping on to her tatty teddy bear, as though it is her only friend. So, Will decides one afternoon to take a break on playing D&D with the boys, and plays with Holly instead, to which she is delighted, and her huge smile when he says he will play with her, makes him feel good.

He starts off by showing her how to paint flowers and butterflies, and Holly takes great pleasure in Will showing her how to cover her hands in paint and print the paper with them, folding it over, to make a big, colourful butterfly, like a cool magic trick. 
They both end up with paint all over them, and Will has to scrub pink paint off a very ticklish Holly’s face. She constantly squirms and squeals, as Will tries to wipe it off her cheeks, wondering how she got it there in the first place, but she won’t keep still, and the pair end up in fits of giggles.

Afterwards, Holly gives Will her tiny, pink and purple, plastic hairbrush, and miniature multicoloured butterfly clips, and gives him the puppy dog eyes, until he agrees to plait her hair for her. 
Will enjoys combing through Holly’s hair, it’s soft and sleek, and he finds it soothing and calming to do. Holly never once squeals, or tells Will to stop, because it’s too painful. For some reason, she’s very calm around Will when he is brushing her hair, unlike when Karen or Nancy try to do her hair for her -she constantly screams and cries that they’re doing it too rough. 
Will takes out her scruffy looking piggy-tails, and plaits either side of her golden hair, neatly tying the ends together with little pink and purple ribbons to match her hairbrush.

Often, when Mike, Dustin and Lucas go outside to play, Will will occasionally go rooting and rummaging in Mike’s shed, finding one of Nancy’s old skipping ropes, and skip with Holly, who is miles better than Will, and ends up showing him how it’s done. 
They find two pairs of roller-skates wedged in the back of the shed also, and Will -being hesitant at first, agrees to attempt to roller-skate with her on the street outside, while his friends have bike races up and down the street.

Will is very wobbly at first, and struggles to keep his balance, often causing him to fall flat on his face, and Holly giggles as Will shakily tries to get himself up. He eventually masters it though, and he tries his best to help a stumbling Holly, and lightly pulls her behind him, as he skates up the road, trying to catch up with Mike and the others in their bike race.

At the end of the day, when Karen calls for Holly to come inside for her pre-bedtime bath, Holly presents her mum with her favourite strawberry ice cream, and Karen gives in to her, and makes a bowl up for her and Will, to say thank you to him for playing with her daughter and making her smile.

Holly always gives Will a massive hug before bed and thanks him for playing with her, and on occasion, she will pull out from behind her back, a small bouquet of handpicked daisies and buttercups, and presents them to Will, smiling proudly as she hands them over.

Will is overcome with gratitude and happiness at the adorable flowers she picks out for him, and makes Holly giggle as he holds one of the buttercups up to her chin, and tells her she must like butter, because her chin is illuminated in a yellow glow from the flower. 
She waves goodbye to him, and bounces up the stairs joyfully. Will feels happy that he’s made Mike’s little sister happy. He hates to see her feeling ignored, or overlooked, and Mike secretly loves to watch the two play, entranced in how good hearted his best friend is, and how calm Holly is around his best friend.

Mike thinks Will would make a fantastic father one day. Kind souls are few and far between in this world, but Mike knows, Will is definitely one of them, the best one, in his opinion.

[butsomeofusarelookingatthestars]

Would you be able to write something about Luke dating a professional dancer (like Broadway) and maybe combine it with the song "Little Things"? I feel like he would be the best body worshipping SO a gal could ask for 😉 I've been reading your imagines nonstop for the last few days and idk I would really love to see what you do with this one. Thanks!

Urgh, I feel you so much on this! My main headcanon is that Luke would be the best body worshipping SO! I changed it up a little bit to help soothe the plot over. I hope you like it

Little Things

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Luke Alvez x ReaderPrompt: Request (song inspiration: Little Things – One Direction)

Description: Things had changed, but one thing hadn’t…Luke was still hopelessly in love with you. 

Your hand fits in mine like it’s made just for meBut bear this mind it was meant to beAnd I’m joining up the dots with the freckles on your cheeksAnd it all makes sense to me

It was early when Luke woke up. Bright beams of sunlight shone onto his face, warming his skin, as he stirred sleepily. He smiled at the feeling of the light pressure on his chest, tenderly kissing your hair as you peacefully slept.

Almost instinctively he turned to glance at the baby monitor perched on the bedside table. All was peaceful.

He sighed contently as he sank back into the fluffy pillows, the serenity of the scene particularly soothing given the stressful case he had worked on yesterday. When he finally returned home late last night all he wanted was to cuddle up with you and wish his son goodnight.

Ever since he had become a new father, he had been struggling to keep his emotions in check when dealing with exceedingly horrific cases involving children. It sounded stupid, but he just couldn’t take his mind off his own baby at home.

He glanced down as your hand gripped his shirt tighter, murmuring quietly in your sleep. He bit his lip to contain his laughter at your drowsy mumblings. All he could make out was something about the ‘tatty teddy’ being on the living room table. Apparently, even in your slumber, you were still thinking about your son.

It had been a surprise to find out about your pregnancy.

Certainly, neither of you had planned for it to happen. But, it had been exciting news regardless. You had been dating for a long time now anyway and he loved you immensely. So, starting a family together was something he was more than happy about. In fact, the team had been delighted to see the bright grin on his face as he proudly showed them the ultrasound scans of his little boy.

He couldn’t have been happier.

I know you’ve never loved the crinkles by your eyes when you smileYou’ve never loved your stomach or your thighsThe dimples in your back at the bottom of your spineBut I’ll love them endlessly

You looked so peaceful, almost angelic as you breathed softly – the rise and fall of your chest soothing against his skin. He tenderly brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, tracing the lines on your face.

He could stay like this forever.

You stirred slightly at his touch, shuffling in the sheets as you yawned sleepily. You sighed softly as you stretched your body, glancing up to see Luke’s soft smile.

“Morning.”

Luke didn’t respond with words, wrapping his arm tightly around your waist to guide you back down beside him. A contented sigh escaped your throat as he pressed light kisses onto your neck, trailing downwards as his warm breath tickled your skin.

You groaned slightly in protest as he reached your stomach, pulling the sheets down to get a better view of your body.

“Luke, please don’t-” The rest of your complaints didn’t even register with him.

He just stared down at you in awe as his eyes swept over your form. Their warm brown depths seemed to almost radiate adoration as he leaned down to place tender kisses on your stomach, tracing the lines of your stretch marks lovingly.

He knew you still had hang-ups about your post-pregnancy body. It had especially been a problem for you given your career. Professional dancing required a lot of hard work and you still needed time to adjust to being a new mother.

He was well-aware that you were self-conscious about your body following the birth of your son. But, he couldn’t possibly understand why. You looked like a vision of perfection to him. If anything, each faded stretch mark made him love you even more. He just wanted you to know that.

“You’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks blushed as he held your gaze, the intensity in his eyes making your heart flutter. The scene was incredibly intimate, in a way you had rarely experienced. You just felt so comfortable…so safe in Luke’s arms.

I won’t let these little things slip out of my mouthBut if I do, it’s you, oh it’s you, they add up toI’m in love with you and all these little things

His hand gently caressed your face as he captured your lips in a passionate kiss.

A loud wail echoed around the room, followed by a bark – there was no really need to have a baby monitor with Roxy acting as a canine nanny. You tapped Luke’s cheek affectionately, kissing him softly as you murmured that you would attend to your son.

He was grateful for your offer, still a little exhausted from getting home so late last night. Besides, he would have the entire day to look after his son. You were heading to a meeting with your personal trainer, with the intention of slowly getting back into dance practice in time for important auditions in four months’ time.

You had both taken time off work to be there for your son. Of course, it would never be enough – the two of you entirely smitten with your tiny baby. But, you were both also determined to make it work – balancing your own ambitions, careers and new parenting responsibilities.

So, Luke had been thrilled to be able to do solo parenting today – allowing you the chance to return back to your other love, dancing.

You can’t go to bed without a cup of teaMaybe that’s the reason that you talk in your sleepAnd all those conversations are the secrets that I keepThough it makes no sense to me

He smiled to himself as he heard you cooing softly to your son in the nursery. A wide grin spreading across his face as he lent back into the pillows, observing your tea-stained favourite mug perched precariously on the bedside table next to the baby monitor.

The domesticity of the scene struck him. Never would he have imagined himself doting on a family, delighted to wake up to the sound of his baby gurgling and the sight of half-filled cups of tea beside the bed. But, here he was…and he couldn’t imagine anything better.

He still remembered all the nights you had stayed up together, murmuring softly about what baby names you preferred and how he still had to find the time to assemble the crib. Stroking your growing stomach lovingly as you felt the baby kick. But, even those nine months couldn’t have prepared him for the actual joy of being a father.

I know you’ve never loved the sound of your voice on tapeYou never want to know how much you weighYou still have to squeeze into your jeansBut you’re perfect to me

His lips curved upwards into an even bigger smile as you entered the room, rocking your baby gently in your arms as his cries subsided. Luke outstretched his arms as you passed his son over to him – allowing you to start getting ready for the day. Your son gurgled slightly at the disruption, calming down as Luke ran a gentle finger down his cheek soothingly.

“There. There little man.”

You smiled softly as you observed the two of them, Luke tenderly holding your son’s tiny hand in his as he rocked him from side to side. It was a sight you would never get tired of seeing.

You returned back to the task at hand, grabbing jeans and top to quickly pull on. However, you groaned as you tried to zip up the pants. It definitely wasn’t as easy as it used to be. Your son was the greatest thing you had ever done, but it had been difficult to accept how hard it would be to get back into dancing after the birth.

“God, what if I never fit back into them the same.” You muttered quietly, quickly throwing your shirt over in order to prevent yourself from looking at the soft layer of skin.

It was just hard considering what your body had used to be like. After all, you were a professional dancer. It was part of your job to have good fitness and it would take a lot of hard work to get back there.

Luke smiled kindly as he shook his head at your comment. He had already told you that you could achieve anything and that you would always be perfect to him regardless.

I won’t let these little things slip out of my mouthBut if it’s true, it’s you, it’s you, they add up toI’m in love with you and all these little things

As you prepared to leave the apartment, Luke stood up, cradling your son against his chest as he approached you. He smiled softly before swooping down to capture your lips in a loving kiss.

“Have a good day at work. We love you.”

[shopwithtlcboutique-blog]

Personalised tiny tatty teddy unicorn swim & school bag

£14.99 + postage

http://www.scboutique.co.uk/#a_aid=Tlc24

[heart-of-a-wildflower]

What's your favorite trinket?

I have a tiny tatty teddy which I gave to my Nan in hospital when I was 10 before she passed away x

[beautyfulboutique18-blog]

Personalised tiny tatty teddy unicorn water bottle £15.99 + p+p you can use up to 12 characters http://www.scboutique.uk/#a_aid=Tlc24

[krystalroser-blog]

Always Kiss Me Goodnight: 10/02/18 by pinky-chocolatte featuring glass bottles ❤ liked on Polyvore

Jenny Packham see through lingerie, $725 / Jenny Packham dressing gown / MUK LUKS Delanie Women's Green Slipper S M / BERRICLE chain necklace / Cara bow hair accessory / Face cleanser / Catherine Jean wash bag, $52 / Vetro Vero glass bottle / Me To You Tiny Tatty Teddy Hanging Heart Frame ***Free Valentines..., $17

[velageleva-blog]

Tiny Tatty Teddy album for baby boy