#about a thimble the last time i did

[mamamittens]

So, I've been thinking on Thatch's sad bean hour time and here's a decent one i think

Now, as head cook and commander, Thatch takes his job very seriously. With a crew this large, it's not hard to get lost in the details, which is where his division comes in to help lessen the, at times, overwhelming workload.

Still there are some things that he personally likes keeping an eye on, to the best of his ability.

Allergen safe work areas for particular foods is key among them.

The kitchens are massive, of course, which is the only way he's able to ensure certain foods go no where near particular areas. It took some clever work arounds in some cases, but it works!

Thankfully, meals are rather self serve style, so he usually can relax after prepping and cooking is finished when it comes to cross contamination. His division is well trained, after all, and utterly serious about food health and safety.

So, he's enjoying dinner, sitting beside Izou as they both gossip about interesting, new things that popped up recently in the papers or on board. Visibly pleased when he spots Nikia make her way to the food and wave to get her attention after she gets her plate.

"She's so cute when she does that." Thatch murmurs, referring to the little fluffing her wings do when something abruptly catches her attention. She jogs over and sits across from them in an empty spot, most not wanting to eat directly beside any commander, let alone Ace. Her wing briefly brushing across his back in quiet greeting before she considers her food.

Thatch notes, still quite pleased, that it was pretty healthy fare. Teriyaki chicken and cauliflower rice with raw veggies, a small serving of clear soup, and two cookies as a treat. Healthier than usual, but he was hardly complaining. It was surprising though, that she didn't eat regular rice, considering how much she usually liked it with certain meals.

"Good picks." Thatch said cheerfully, watching as she smeared the sauced chicken over the cauliflower--apparently intending to eat it as she would white rice. "Wanted to try something a little new or have you had it before?" he asked curiously, watching as she scooped up a healthy serving of cauliflower and chicken before eating it.

"What? The rice? It's just small, still white though, isn't it? Or something like that--"

Her face immediately scrunched up as she started choking, confusion clear as she swallowed hard. Face red as she blinked furiously, trying to control her breathing.

"F-Fuck, that was spicy as shit! Where'd that come from?!" Thatch frowned, looking down at the food.

While he knew she had a sensitive palette, nothing on her plate was particularly spicy.

She was wheezing as he stole a bite of chicken and cauliflower rice.

It certainly didn't taste spicy--though he'd apologize for the theft regardless.

"There's no spice besides teriyaki, baby. Just chicken and cauliflower." Thatch mused, focusing on her face again only to realize she was struggling to breath. Lips tinted faintly blue, wings trembling with distress.

"Ah. Get Marco. O-Or epi." Nikia blinked away tears and swallowed with greater difficulty.

Thatch and Izou froze in horror as they realized what was happening for only a moment, but luckily Ace wasn't passed out and quickly reacted.

"Marco! Here!"

He was over in an instant, hand on fire as he gently placed his palm over her throat.

"Right, let's get you to the med bay--this will only hold it, not treat it." Marco advised gently, helping Nikia leave. "Got your inhaler--ah, good! We'll use that after we treat the allergic reaction."

Nikia was in good hands, thankfully.

Thatch, however, was spiraling. It didn't matter what Izou told him, Thatch could only replay the moment in his mind when Nikia ate something she was incredibly allergic to without realizing what it was--

right in front of him.

Nikia, on the other hand, was fine after some medication and ordered to take it easy for the rest of the day. No running, flying, or eating foods she didn't recognize.

She returned to her room and got ready for bed, quite exhausted from the startling event. Settling down for sleep when there was a knock at her door. Confused, she answered, finding Thatch swaying in her doorway.

He was utterly despondent, eyes red, reeking of booze as he whimpered apologies. Arms quick to wrap around her in a tight, drunken embrace.

"Oh, b-baby cakes--'m sorry--I should have kn-known--knew--was right there--" Thatch whined and she was quick to pull him into her room. With difficultly, being mostly blinded by his arms shoving her face into his chest, she steered him to sit on her bed.

"H-Hey, Thatch, it's alright! I'm okay!" she reassured him, rubbing his back as he shook his head and kept mumbling apologies. "I should have realized it wasn't actual rice--cauliflower is like, the literal only thing I know I'm allergic to. And usually it's just spicy but I guess it got worse without me realizing it--ah, beans, that's not helpful is it?" she balked as he started weeping, eyes watery pools as he cupped her face.

"You couldn't breathe, baby. You couldn't breathe because I didn't make sure the food wasn't mixed." Thatch breathed out.

"Hey--look at me--it's not your fault. I'm breathing fine now, see? Everything is alright. It's not your fault. I don't blame you. Feel that? I can breathe just fine now. Because I felt safe eating something new--because you helped make it. And you don't make it weird if I decide not to eat something after trying it. Normally, I would have not eaten it at all--or eaten it while alone." Nikia reassured him gently, sliding one of his hands to her throat.

He froze, fingers pressing into the delicate skin that throbbed with life. Trusted so implicitly with her life, even now, that she openly let him touch her neck. Which he knew she hated. But his palm was there, pressed against the side of her throat as she breathed steadily.

Slowly, Thatch slid his hand further behind her neck. Watching as she didn't even flinch, not even as he used the leverage to pull her into his arms. Lifting her into his lap to hold onto her better, bury his face in her hair. He collapsed against the bed as tears kept falling. Now more from a place of relief than anxiety.

It was his literal worst nightmare as a chef.

Bad enough to trigger her asthma--which she apparently had.

But she still trusted him.

Still let him hold her like this. Shifting only to rest more comfortably on his chest, wings tucking in like the edges of a thick duvet. Feathers brushing against him gently as she rubbed the sides of his ribs in comforting motions.

Izou found them sometime later, sighing as his voice crept out from the doorway.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I can take him to bed now." Izou offered.

"It's alright." Her voice vibrated against his chest as one wing lifted up. "He was scared. Scared me too, today. You can join if you turn off the light." she offered.

There was a moment of hesitation and the room was cast into silken darkness. His body gently shoved further up the bed by firm hands until a familiar body slipped in beside him.

"Ki?"

"...yeah, 'Zo?"

"I'm glad you're okay... please don't do that again, though." Izou asked softly.

"Don't plan on it." she snorted before settling back down.

From that day forward, Thatch carried a little case with emergency epipens on his person at all times. And it was a while before he stopped hovering over Nikia when she got food, quietly listing out the food she considered and major ingredients. Just in case, Thatch gently steered her away from anything closely related to cauliflower, such as brussel sprouts and cabbage.

When he gets to be a little too much, Nikia gently lifts up his hand and places it on her neck. A silent reminder that makes Thatch's stomach flip with a mix of emotions.

He just never wants to see her like that again.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

They Unknowingly Bring Up and Insecurity| Seungmin Pt2

Pt1 Pt3

Seungmin sat in the living room with the guys while you were in the kitchen with Lee Know preparing something for your guy's weekly hangout. You all decided on playing monopoly together, with you and Seungmin partnering up.

Bangchan carefully set up the board while Felix was handing out the money.

"Seungmin hyung." Jeongin asked as he handed his elder the thimble to him.

"Is Y/N okay? She's been really quiet. She won't even talk to me." Jeongin's face was droopy as he stuck his lip out. "I was wondering if she was upset about something?"

Seungmin took a breath and spoke quietly. His voice soft and rather sad.

"I think I said something that hurt her feelings really bad." His voice was starting to wobble a bit, and that told Jeongin all he needed to know.

"Did you say sorry?"

Seungmin nodded and his cheeks puffed out slightly as he pouted. "She said she was okay but I don't believe her."

Jeongin grabbed the hat and messed with it. "Well, what did you say to her?" He inquired.

Seungmin pulled out his phone and scrolled up to his texts with you. Which it didn't take long for him to scroll up because you hadn't been texting him as often. He only heard from you for important or urgent things, and he was missing the little random blurbs of somewhat unnecessary - but entirely endearing - information about what you were doing.

He handed his phone to Jeongin and the maknae quickly read it through.

"Hyung, you know why Y/N and her last boyfriend broke up right...?"

Seungmin shook his head and Jeongin opened his mouth to speak but you walked in with Minho with a tray of snacks.

"Did Minho teach you how to make something new?" Chan asked you. Seungmin could tell the rest of the guys had picked up on your odd silence, but you nodded.

"Kinda...he taught me how to set a charcuterie board. It's pretty."

You set it down and Jisung immediately went to go grab something.

"MMM Y/N THIS IS SO GOOD!!" He popped a piece of cheese into his mouth and his cheeks puffed up. "You need to teach me now!!"

The effort Jisung had given to get you to respond was in vain.

"Jiji, I just grabbed the cheese from a package..."

The wide eyed quokka boy scratched his neck. "Oh um. Its still good though."

Throughout the first thirty minutes of you guys playing, minimal conversation was made and Seungmin was feeling antsy.

He missed your voice.

When you stood up to go to the bathroom and go restock the snack supply all the guys turned to you.

"Seungmin apologize. I miss my baby girl..." Jisung whined.

Seungmin deadpanned and Jisung frowned. "What she was my baby girl before she became your baby girl..."

"I don't know how I'm supposed to fix it! I don't know what I did wrong really..."

"Hyung, her boyfriend broke up with her because of her tendency to overshare...and you know...talk a lot."

Seungmin's puppy eyes narrowed as his eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"It was a stupid reason to break up really. She only told me because one time she was feeling insecure when we were hanging out and some lady told me that 'my girlfriend talked a lot'; which I told her that I wasn't dating her but also that it didn't matter because I talk a lot too." Jeongin frowned.

Seungmin blinked a few times and bit his bottom lip.

"I don't think she's upset at you Seungmin..." Changbin spoke. "From what I see it seems like she's trying not to be a burden."

"Burden?"

"She doesn't want you to break up with her so she's trying to change that aspect about herself. You're naturally a quiet person and she probably thinks she's too much for you and that you'll get tired of it."

Seungmin shook his head. "No! I could never get tired of Y/N-ie!"

Chan chuckled. "You guys really are perfect for each other." He says, marveling in his work. "But...tone doesn't translate over text."

"And you're a sarcastic motherfucker." Minho adds.

Hyunjin stretches across the floor. "You can say that again."

Jisung huffs. "Well go on and apologize! Because I want my gossip buddy back! She never finished telling me about the drama on her mom's side of the family! I was invested in which side piece got her cousin pregnant!"

Hyunjin shoots up, sniffing the drama. "Ya! Seungmin fix it! I want to know now too!"

Seungmin looked down at the board as he contemplated just how he could fix this.

Because sometimes words weren't the cure.

But actions were.

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

Sorry for the short work 🫠. But in all the drafts of my 3 part angst series (oops theres more?) the 2nd part tends to be shorter since its the down hill of the plot.

[itsa-me-lily]

God I love this au, it's feeding me so good today. The last one with the part about only one bedroom has me thinking about a sick reader, the gross kind of sick where you're sweaty and wheezy and snotty, and the fact that if it were anyone else Simon would be quarantining them. But because it's his spouse, he wakes up to you nasally wheezing and mouth breathing while sprawled across him, and all he can think about is when you're due for your next round of medicine and if he needs to buy more tissues.

Sometimes love comes coated in mucus, and is reciprocated with an artificial cherry taste. Also do the guinea pigs have names and what do they look like?

I'm dying. This is the first ever ask I've ever gotten (that I recall) and I'm going to pass away. Also "sometimes love comes coated in mucus, and is reciprocated with an artificial cherry taste" that is such a good line, I'm apologizing in advance if I steal it.

Also warning for content of being sick, this is based off my last bout of plague.

Also Also Here's the Simon & Thimble playlist

Also Also Also Here's the Military Program Spouse AU masterlist

Bedsharing in general does not happen at first. (Now I want to percolate an idea about sharing the bed for the first time). You're way to use to having your own bed that sharing with someone means you're not sleeping easily and I think Simon would rather sleep with the guinea pigs in their cage than have another human being that close to him when he sleeps. (This was also not something he initially thought about when being told a spouse was to be picked)

So what's the solution? Obviously bunk beds! Kind of, sorta...okay not really but the look on Simon's face when you had suggested getting bunk beds had been entertaining. Who knew so much indignation could come through a medical mask. Really his eyebrows did so much talking.

With the dream of bunkbeds dashed, the next best solution was either two twin beds crammed into the bedroom with a bedside's worth of space between them, or a pull out couch. You managed to find a couch same day that didn't terribly clash with the artwork you have yet to hang up.

You two actually manage to come up with a schedule for who slept where. Obviously you'd get the bed when Simon was deployed, made no sense for you not to. And when he was home the bed was all his unless he was having a night that he knew he wasn't going to trust a deadbolt to keep monsters at bay. Then he made himself comfortable, TV playing low until he managed a few hours in the early morning before you try to leave a silently as you can for work.

(Funny thing, even if you aren't sharing a bed traditionally, you both most certainly have your own sides, along with bed stands that told two different stories)

The first time you get sick is when Simon is technically deployed. Well actually, the day he returns is the day you spike a 101.8 fever and work forces you to go home so you don't become a walking petri dish and expose the college kids that come into your office.

Once you're home you appease the little beasts demanding some sort of vegetal boon, change into the rattiest clothes you have, and then huddle under a staggering amount of blankets that have made their home on your bed. (Simon may have side eyed them when you first set them out, but you've seen the mountain he creates under them, you knew the magic of weighted blankets)

Sleep isn't peaceful, you hadn't broken out the Nyquil quite yet, but you do manage to drift off for a few hours. And then the coughing starts. It's the kind that's a bitch to deal with, dry and pushing your ribs to the limit with how often they can expand and contract. By the time Simon comes home you've steamed yourself twice, taken only a smidge over the recommended amount of cough suppressant, and slathered yourself with Vic's Vaporub. All in all, you were properly miserable.

You're in the kitchen, staring into the abyss of your over-steeping tea as if it will magically make you feel better if you only sell your soul to it, really a tempting offer, when the wheeks of the pigs announce that another person they know has arrived.

If Simon wasn't clued in that something was off at seeing you home before the end of your work day, the pungent smell of menthol would have been a dead give away. You're still communing with your tea when he knocks against the wall, pulling you out of the deal for your soul to meet him with bleary eyes and a flushed face.

You croak out a greeting that makes Simon wince in sympathy, though that's about all he really does. Simon doesn't really do pleasantries and doting probably wouldn't be the first word people use to describe him, so with your brain function reduced by an overflow of mucus and fever, the kitchen was rather silent.

Until you started coughing, face buried into the crook of your elbow to try to keep your contagion to a minimum and back bowing to nearly double you over. That drives Simon to action, coming to try to keep you up incase you collapse, grabbing your free arm.

When you feel him touch you, you try to pull away, shaking your head and finally finishing your bout, gasping a little as you try to daunting task of breathing and speaking to dissuade him from getting close lest he catches what you have. He clearly wasn't persuaded, hands clenching and unclenching like he simply wanted to pick you up and put you...somewhere.

How exactly Simon Riley would take care of you, he didn't know but he'd be damned sure to at least try. He'd been left to fend for himself while sick before and he didn't like the idea of you going through that. When it was clear that he wasn't going to just leave you to your suffering you relented enough to try to reach a compromise; if he'd be alright watching the pigs while you were sick that would be more useful than a nursemaid while you camped out on the couch.

That...that was something Simon could do. He'd watched how you took care of the boys, surely this was something he could do. And then his brain caught up to the rest of what you had said. There was no way he was going to let you sleep on some pull out couch, as nice as it was. Being Sick meant sleeping in a proper bed, on a mattress that didn't spend it's days folded up.

You tried to insist it was alright but he wouldn't listen to a word of it. Instead he practically herded you back to the bedroom, ignoring your murmurs of your abandoned hot beverage. He didn't lift you to plop you onto the bed itself but it was a near thing. He had to bribe you with the promise of a proper cup of tea for you to even lay your head on your pillow, eyes already heavy with the need for sleep. By the time he had actually made a cup you were out for the count, nasally mucus filled snores letting him know you hadn't perished in the time it took him.

The next few days were filled with mucus, the attempted escape of your lungs via coughing fits, and more Vics than the human body should be exposed to. And the entire time you insisted that you could fend for yourself. Simon didn't push to play nurse, but your tissues never ran out, a dose of medication was always ready on your bedside, and a warm cup of tea stood waiting for you after each nap, like a solider committed to his guard.

Edit;

I'm going to make a separate post for the guinea pigs, because honestly I'm torn on if they're based on my guinea pigs I used to have, or guinea pigs I'd want to have in the future

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 14

Hey guys! Welcome back! So this chapter is getting a little heavy on the angsty side, so just a heads up.

Things have been going great for all the stories especially the Christmas one.

This will be the story that keeps its usual schedule next week. Every other posting day will be finishing up the Olympic Swimmer one. So be on the look out for that.

Also super long chapter!

Steve tries out some hobbies, Joyce pushes, and Steve gets depressed.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

~

Steve would like to say he got right on the job search the next day, but he really didn’t. He woke up refreshed and feeling good about himself. After a run on the treadmill and big breakfast he had already talked himself out needing to.

But instead he decided that he wanted to learn new hobbies. He had the money and pretty much unlimited time so why not?

The first thing he tried felting. Yeah, he had a lot of money, but he wanted to start with something cheap in case he got bored with it.

Taking the kit out of the box, he already ran into a problem. The leather finger gloves were much too small. Like he didn’t have fat fingers or anything but they were much too tight to fit on even his pinkie fingers he turned them inside out to see if he could make them bigger somehow.

He only succeeded in ruining the finger gloves. He tried rubber thimbles as replacements but still the sharp tool would pierce even the tough rubber.

The kit sat abandoned in a corner of his hotel room until one of the porters saw it and asked if he could have it. His sister did the felting all the time and she was having trouble finding colors she liked.

So Steve let him have it. Three days later the porter came back with a bright yellow canary and a female robin. He proudly displayed them on his nightstand next to the phone and alarm clock.

Robin loved them, but refused to take the robin. She said they shouldn’t be separated at any price.

Steve loved her a little bit more when she said that.

The next thing he tried was painting.

That lasted all of six hours before they got handed off to Will. It was a beautiful oil, acrylic, and water color set, with all the paint brushes and pallet and metal wood-handled pallet knives.

It lasted that long was because that was the time it took for Steve to set everything up, including an old sheet Rosa let him have, start painting and promptly knock everything over. The water, the paints, the easel. Everything. He broke the easel, knocked a hole in the canvas, and smeared paint all over the apron he had bought just for the occasion.

Will was happy to receive the paints, but in turn he gave Steve a simple notepad and pencil and taught him how to draw.

Steve liked that.

It was just for doodling and making silly pictures so it didn’t make him feel like a failure. He went to the bookstore and bought a bunch of books on how to draw certain things. Animals, the human figure. He even found this great reference book on clothes sorted based on the English monarch who was in power at the time the were wore.

Which was all well and good, but it wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

One day while he was over at Will’s talking art and whether or not kneaded erasers were worth the pain they caused if you dropped, Ellie introduced him to a new hobby. Will was against the things, Steve was for.

Jonathan huffed, “That’s probably a class issue as Steve here can afford to replace them and Will can’t.”

Steve and Will stared at each other in complete shock, but had to admit that Jonathan was probably right.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve huffed, “that’s fair. I guess I really didn’t think about it because it’s not my money I’m spending.”

“Have you tried looking for a job?” Joyce asked. She didn’t like that someone was paying to keep Steve safe. As nice as it was, in her experience the well tended to dry up when you least expected it to.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mrs. Byers.” Which he had. Yes, he had been focused on trying to learn things that would keep his mind from atrophying, he had also been looking. “If they seen me coming they take down the sign or if they don’t get to it in time, they say it’s an old sign and that they forgot to take it down.”

Joyce’s shoulders slumped in sympathy. The rumor around town is that because Mr. Harrington was the landlord for a lot of the properties that the businesses were on, he had threatened to raise their rent if they gave Steve a job.

Something that all the adults promised not to tell Steve so that he wouldn’t get so discouraged as to not try at all.

But surely Clint Harrington didn’t own every business in Hawkins and she told Steve so.

“No,” Steve huffed. “But he’s friends with ones that he doesn’t. I’m going to try the mall next. Most of the them are franchises and have their main bosses outside of Hawkins.”

She let out a little sigh of relief. It showed that Steve was trying and actively thinking of these types of pitfalls.

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “What have you got there, Ellie?” he asked trying to shift the focus off of him for a moment.

Joyce was watching Ellie while Hopper was at work.

The young girl held up long satin strings of embroidery thread. She had three shades of pink, a white, and a red. She tied the ends to a safety pin that was pinned her leg.

“I’m making friendship bracelets for me and Max,” Ellie said proudly. “The pink is for me, and then I have these colors for her!” She held up blues and purples.

“That’s way cool!” Steve said scooting over to sit next to her.

Jonathan and Will shared a smile. Steve was lost to the shiny allure of friendship bracelets.

“I could teach you if you like,” she said with a smile. “I also have boondoggle!” She held up shiny plastic strips. “I make key chains and other things that need to last a lot longer than the thread.”

Steve really lit up, but then frowned when he saw out intricate it all was. “I’ll never be do anything that fancy.”

Ellie sat closer and pulled out a little paper that she had in her caboodle. “I couldn’t at first either, so I went to the library and took out a book on all the different ways you could plait and how to do boondoggle. Then I copied a couple of the pages I wanted to try.”

She handed it to him and pointed to the easiest. “That’s the one I started with and it will probably take a little bit to get the spacing right.”

Steve tilted his head. “Is this like braiding hair?”

“Yes!” Ellie said excitedly. “That’s right. I forgot you braid Max’s hair all the time. So then it will be easy for you.”

Soon they were off in their own little world.

Joyce watched with her arms crossed and a concerned expression. Jonathan spotted her and shook his head. He stood up and went to stand next to her.

“You’ve got to let it go, Mom,” he said gently. “You aren’t his mom and even if you were, he’s still an adult. As near as anyone of can tell, whoever is footing this bill isn’t in it to exploit Steve, just making sure he’s taken care of.”

Joyce breathed out through her nose as she tried not to snap at her son. She didn’t know that as a fact and Hopper’s reassurances weren’t enough. She hated having to take his word that whoever this was wouldn’t harm Steve. And that galled.

“It’s all the expensive gifts,” she tried to explain. “The car, the unlimited credit card, cash drops weekly, the gold necklace, the hotel. It’s just not right, it’s not decent.”

Jonathan shook his head. “What about all the non-expensive gifts? Things this benefactor thought Steve would like or get a kick out of? Like that little canary with top hat that he keeps on his dashboard? Or all the music tapes they send, thinking Steve might want to try something different. Hell, according to Steve until they left the country, they talked once or twice a day. That doesn’t sound like someone out to hurt him.”

She let out a shuddering sigh. Because Jonathan was right, that didn’t sound like someone trying to use Steve. “I know.”

Jonathan patted on her shoulder and then went into his room, probably to call Nancy. Another person like his mom who worried Steve was being taken advantage of. But even if he was, that was a lesson he was going to have to learn the hard way.

On his own.

Will had long since left to go hang out with Mike while Ellie and Steve made friendship bracelets. He made four. A black, red, and dark grey one for Eddie, a red, a brown, and a light grey one for Robin and two yellow, white, and black ones. So he could one each to Eddie and Robin.

“Those are really pretty, Steve,” Ellie congratulated him. “Those are some interesting color choices.” Spoken as though she was silently judging, but too polite to say so.

He blushed and held up the first one. “This is for my special friend, they are his favorite colors.” Then he held up the second. “And this is for Robin. The colors remind me of a female robin and the last two represent who I am now.”

Ellie blinked for a moment as she took in the information. “I can see that now. Thank you for explaining it to me.”

“I get my thread at Melvand’s,” she said serenely, “if you wanted to continue to make more, that’s where you would go to get your own.”

Steve kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Ellie.”

He didn’t stay much longer than that, now that both of the other boys were gone, Joyce was keeping too close an eye on him with Ellie. He knew it wasn’t the gay thing as she didn’t mind Will being around her. And it wasn’t being a barely legal adult considering she would gladly leave Jonathan to look over her.

Nope.

It was entirely because she didn’t know who Steve’s mysterious benefactor was. And the thought of this unknown, probably male, person might hear about Ellie later? Yeah, that’s where she drew her invisible line.

Which was bullshit, like with Robin’s mom, Eddie wasn’t going to prey on little girls. He was freaking out about Steve might be underage when they met in the club. But it wasn’t like he could tell Joyce that. She might revoke his time with Will and Ellie if she learned he had been underaged drinking that night. The night Eddie saved him.

Steve went up to his hotel room and flopped face first into his bed. He was tired. Tired of all the questions about finding a job and getting out from under Eddie’s thumb. Like Eddie was financially abusing him or whatever.

He just wanted to bring people to his hotel room and show them all the little things Eddie sent him just because he walked into a gas station and saw something cute he thought he would like. The keychain from Kansas City with his name on it. The bright yellow shirt that said “I don’t take no shit” and had the Iowan state bird of the American goldfinch. That one came with a little note explaining that it was a canary, but the black on the wings reminded Eddie of the deliciously tight black leather pants.

Steve blushed for hours after that one.

He wiggled onto the bed and crawled under the covers without having taken off any of his clothes. Maybe he could hibernate until Eddie got back in America.

~

Steve managed to bury himself under the covers before the porter with the felting sister ripped the blanket off from over his head.

He stared blearily up at the porter. “Martin?” He struggled to sit up, but flopped back down on the pillow in distress. “Just leave me alone.”

“It’s Marty actually,” the porter huffed. “The only people that call me Martin are my boss and my mom. You’re not either.”

“Marty, I just want to go back to sleep.”

Marty pulled the rest of the blankets and yanked Steve off the bed. He went with a startled yelp. He leapt to his feet to fight him, but he saw that Bob and Rosa were standing by his bed with looks of concern on their faces.

“I have the shower running,” Bob said, “you will get in there and at least clean off the sweat you reek of. Then Rosa will change the sheets. Marty will bring up some food while you are showering, then the three of us are staging an intervention, because this isn’t like you!”

Steve opened his mouth to refute that statement, probably something about how no one called the whole time he as sulking.

Bob pulled out a stack of messages. “I have thirteen messages, and that’s only because the answering machine is full.”

Steve looked behind him and sure enough the machine was blinking complete with a full tape.

“Oh.”

He meekly went and did as he was told. He was only going to do a perfunctory wipe down because they were waiting for him, but once he got under the water it felt so good that he began to thoroughly scrub himself down. Normally going without a shower for a couple of days really didn’t do much, but because he had barely moved to pee, he was covered in thin layer of sweat.

He washed his hair and got out of the shower. He dried himself off and put on the long robe Eddie had gotten him. He opened the door and was instantly hit with enticing aroma of chicken noodle soup. He moved out of the bathroom to the main room, lured by the scent of real food.

The sofa was full of the hotel employees so he grabbed his bowl of soup and spoon and sat down on the armchair curled up as small as he could make himself.

“You frightened us, mi corazón,” Rosa huffed. “You weren’t answering your phone, you weren’t ordering food. The only way we could tell you moved at all is that occasionally the cup in the bathroom would be wet or you would be on the other side of the bed.”

Bob nodded. “We were told to look after you, money was no object. That’s what we were told, but you turned out to be kind and generous and frankly better than ninety percent of the patrons here. You treat us like we’re human, so it became our pleasure to serve you. So when you weren’t opening your door to anyone or answering your calls, we knew something was wrong.”

“Sorry,” Steve muttered into his bowl. “I just got so tired of everyone trying to find out who is bankrolling my life style and telling me to get a job that I just didn’t want to deal with it anymore.”

“It’s none of their business,” Rosa huffed. “They’re just jealous that they don’t have this life. I know your papa wants to hurt and all this for you protection, but it seems to me your friends just see the money you...” she snapped her fingers. “What’s the word?”

“I’d use ‘splash around’,” Steve said with a shrug.

“Ehhh,” she knew it wasn’t the word she was looking for but it would have to do. “They see the good. Not the bad. They see new car, but they weren’t there to see you give up your old car. They see the fancy hobbies, but they don’t see your big room and no one to fill it with.”

“She’s right,” Marty said. “I don’t think even the girl that comes with your gifts from Eddie Munson quite understands the crippling loneliness and isolation you have to be feeling right now.”

Steve sniffled into his soup. “Thanks, guys. I don’t know how to impress upon them how dangerous this all is for me. Like the only ones that remotely understand are the Hendersons and that’s because my dad showed up on their doorstep. But even then I don’t think Dustin quite grasps the enormity of it all, but then he’s thirteen so...”

“The only reason your father hasn’t penetrated hotel security,” Bob said with a grimace, “is that the owner, Dr. Sam Owens hates business men like your father. Otherwise, his hold over this town would have extended to here, no doubt about that.”

“So this is what’s going to happen,” Marty said, “if you need to sneak out and just go for a drive to get out of your head, call Bob and he’ll arrange it. If you need someone to talk to ring up Rose or myself. We’re here for you. We understand that Mr. Munson is out of the country right now and it makes it harder, but we’ve got you, okay?”

Steve nodded and said weakly, “Okay!”

~

Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts

[rindragon-from-twewy]

Swap au character intros part 4!!!

Spoilers for specifically Raincode Chapter 0 ahead!

Let's start with Zilch! In this au his forte becomes Audial Aptitude - thanks in part to his animal ears. If you've seen my art of Zilch before, you'll probably have noticed I like drawing him with his animal ears as his actual ears and not on top of his hat. It's cuz I generally just hate the ambiguity of it. Are the animal ears real? Are they just on his hat? Why do they move? Why does he have 4 ears? So I just like making his animal ears his only set of ears. That being said, apparently they're fox ears??? I always assumed wolf??? But I digress- His uniform has been changed up to be reminiscent of an orchestra conductor cuz hahah audio. His face tattoos are meant to be those spotify code scanners - the right cheek leading to It's All So Incredibly Loud by Glass Animals and We Own The Night by Chandler Kinney on the left (cuz I think it's funny!) As for his last name change, "Allegro" in musical terms means "to be played very quickly" which I thought would suit him quite well as someone who can solve cases really fast. His personality is basically the same, the only alteration being that he carries around a notepad and pen in order to help keep track of all the hundreds of things he's constantly hearing all the time.

Next is Pucci. She's received Spectal Projection from Melami and if you thought being good at hearing made her existential then BOY HOWDY does being able to use her body as a vessel for spirits fuck her up even more! Originally I was going for a classic "fortune teller" look for her but I instead went with a cute seamstress-y sort of look instead cuz I couldn't really get what I had in mind initially to look good. She wears a tape measure like a scarf and a thimble as a necklace charm. Her eyes, while cute, have a sort of dead look in them that make others wonder if she's even alive at all. Her last name has been changed from Lavmin to Lavender because in flower language, they're representive of purity, serenity, grace and calmness - all traits she seems to exhibit until she actually starts talking and you realise she's just sort of awkward and shy. She finds it easier to talk to ghosts/spirits then living creatures and honestly probably gets along reeeaaally well with this AU's version of Vivia.

Now, you may be looking at Aphex and going "Rindude! You changed fuck all about him!" And yeah, you're right... The only major changes I made was switching out his coat, boots and like doubling his muscle mass. He's strong. He could beat you up, no questions asked and it definitely shows! His forte is now Thoughtography but he's just as angry as ever - originating from the "front lines" that canon Zange mentioned in his own backstory. For that reason, his coat is inspired by WW2 trenchcoats and while my art doesn't show it very well, everything he's wearing looks and smells like he's crawled straight out of a dumpster. Originally I was going to change his last name to Harkness as an homage to Captain Jack Harkness, a WW2 soldier inspired character from (surprise, surprise) Doctor Who but considering the fact I did that exact same thing with an oc of mine for my A levels earlier this year... I instead went with Tyler; an homage to another Doctor Who character called Rose Tyler who is also a badass blonde <3

And that's all the details I'm sharing for now! It's a little strange considering I've written the Storm Cypher fanfic about half way through its chapter 0 already so I have a lot more to say about the train gang then I did anyone else - since they've already had stuff actually written for them. Melami and Zange's swap au designs will drop like... as soon as I figure out how to draw elderly people. So soon, hopefully! But yeah, I'm cooking super good atm I just can't really share much due to the nature of writing lol. I've been loving getting asks about it though! Deadass, it makes me kick my legs and giggle to know people are crazy enough to care about this AU- >w<

[anyroads]

Every so often I come on here to shamelessly plug my Etsy store where I make leather thimbles out of reclaimed offcuts, but today I don't have to because Bernadette Banner apparently did it?? 

Listen. Listen listen listen. I've been making these thimbles for a few years now and every time I think, oh maybe this will end up in someone's sewing bag, maybe it'll be their little sewing friend, or knitting friend, or whatever they use it for, and I will have gotten to make something that means a lot to someone. But I never know! They go out into the world and that's the last I hear of them. So to hear that someone cherishes them?? is so moving. You have no idea. And that it's Bernadette, who's such a brilliant needle maven??? I can't. Shh. I'm not crying, you're crying. 

Anyway, I'm beyond excited. If you want one, I'm linking my store below. I just restocked so I'm about to add a couple new colors, including a gorgeous hunter green that I'm doing my best not to keep all for myself.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 8 - Trophy Room

@wolfstarmicrofic November 8, word count 557

Previous part First part

The door slammed shut behind them and faded from view. Sirius didn’t like this one bit. 

The room they had walked into was full of trophies. Some were tiny things no bigger than thimbles, others were nearly as tall as Sirius himself and they were everywhere. Every surface, including the floor, had a trophy, some were even suspended from the ceiling on strings. At the far end of the room lay another door. 

“Well, I guess we should try the door?” Sirius said, raising a brow at Remus. The Grim offered a rumbling growl from his chest, and they walked towards the door. 

Sirius managed to get about halfway across, dipping and weaving around the trophies, not wanting to knock any over and risk breaking them. He’d just walked past a particularly pointy one, first place for fencing, when the sound of metal hitting stone rang out. Deafening in the silence of the room.  

The trophy bounced a few times, ringing out as it did, before coming to a stop. Remus had retreated from the sound after his tail had flicked and knocked it over. “Try to be more careful, my love, we don’t…” But whatever he’d been about to say, died in his throat as the trophy on the floor trembled and split into two. “Remus come away,” 

The trophies trembled again, and both spilt into another. “That can’t be good,” Sirius muttered. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

One of the trophies hit a spindly displace and knocked more trophies on the floor, instantly splitting, each faster than the last. “Run, Remus!” Sirius urged as the trophies began to pile up. 

They ran as fast as they could but were soon swept up in the wave of bronze, silver and gold. “Remus!” Sirius called out, losing sight of the massive black dog. “Remus!” He heard a yelp below the sea of trophies and pushed through them the best he could, his hand brushing against something warm and soft. He lifted Remus’s head above the trophies and led him towards the far end of the Trophy Room. 

Their progress slowed as they battled against the onslaught. Sirius dared to glance behind and wished he hadn’t, as the multiplying trophies had reached the ceiling and were knocking over more and more. The door was slowly being buried by the blasted things. 

Suddenly, Sirius and Remus were being forced forward, the wall of awards had caught up to them. Sirius’s eyes widened in horror as he realised what was about to happen. They were about to be crushed into the wall by tons of metal. 

He shoved Remus over as far as he could, lining him up for the door. “Trust me,” He shouted over the cacophony of banging and ringing. Remus couldn’t talk, but he could have sworn he heard Remus’s voice say ‘Always,’ inside his head. 

Sirius pulled himself so he was in front of Remus. They were feet away from the far wall now. He reached out and grabbed the doorknob, twisting it until the door gateway, and they tumbled through, the door slamming shut behind them and vanishing into the stonework. Sirius let his head flop back onto the floor as he let out a long breath of relief. They’d done it. 

“Ahem!” A voice behind them coughed, and Sirius groaned. What now?

Next part

[thehaberdasheress]

This week we did the first two live markets of the year!

To be honest, the net profit was -$10 at one and positive $55 at another, but while I wish they made more, I don't just do these for the money.

It was great and chaotic and a huge learning experience, figuring out how to visually present all our products and demonstrate them to people.

Every market, I get more information on what works and what doesn't. Last week I spent time in the woodshop making different display elements, like a turntable to put all my embroidery patterns on, and now I've learned I need to change one of the base plates to make it turn smoothly. The signs and packaging that I made were way too small for people to easily make out from a normal standing distance—I'm way too used to working with photography that captures all the details, not thinking about how it gets viewed from 20 feet back.

Also, I'm working on building up stock of sewing supplies! In three categories:

Premade tools, unadulterated (buttonhole gauges, thimbles, scissors, etc)

Convenient package sizes I've made of tools and materials (thread wax buttons, bobbins of thread made from natural fibers and/or dyed using pre-modern techniques, sewing kits, etc)

Custom kits for common projects, like an embroidered belt purse or a blackworked renaissance shirt, with materials and detailed step-by-step instructions

When will any of these be up on Etsy? I wish I could tell you. My bank gave me a wee bit of funding so I could afford to hire a part-time online marketing assistant, but unfortunately she's been having some health issues lately. Hopefully she gets better soon, but until then, I can't give you an ETA.

[carolinahope]

8x02 When the Boeing Gets Tough...

This was a really great episode. It was probable, if not realistic. It was fun. And also touching. Had great pacing and cool effects. With Captain Jerk and Thimble gone, everything is suddenly more enjoyable.

When the focus turns on the police is when the show is at its weakest. I really hated Dennis Jenkins talking about refusing the early release. I understand that he killed Athena's fiancé but the narrative is treating him as though he was worse than Dahmer and Bundy combined. Athena's eulogy felt really ingenuine, especially given her repeated overboard behaviour. But the last call for Emmett did make me tear up.

I have to say I enjoyed the way they treated the airplane emergency. That it was acknowledged how crazy it sounded for Athena to fly the plane. The little plane enthusiast was a little convenient. But it is a story and it made for a good one. Especially the scenes with his dad.

I like how they involved the 118 and showed how competent they all are. And how the people on the plane came together as well. Those are always some of the best scenes on the show. I liked the older couple, especially. And the young woman with the dog was really great.

And poor Buck. Feeling so guilty. And the rest of them just celebrating the peace and quiet.

Now we know why Buck was running the other way. And it makes so much sense. And I loved Bobby just commandeering the prop engine and being exasperated with Brad but not having time to deal with him.

We really need more scenes of Bobby and Buck being a father and son. After all the verbal acknowledgments - from May, Athena, Bobby, Buck, it's time to get to the show part of this show and tell.

I'm really curious about the next part. Because for being the middle of a three-part arc, this one more than held it's own.

[kay-elle-cee]

@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 11 || 828 Words || Read on Ao3 —

Unlike most days, Lily’s awakened not by the light filtering through the gap in her curtains, but the smell of bacon. In fact, as she blinks and takes in the ceiling above her, she realizes there’s barely any light in the room at all, though the sounds on the street below indicate that it’s definitely a time of day when people are out and about.

She stretches lazily, blinking a few more times to adjust to the darkness, and is hit with the sudden realization—

This isn’t her room. 

She shoots straight up in the bed, a small squeak escaping as the covers fall to her waist and she realizes she’s completely exposed in this strange room. Footsteps outside the door announce someone’s approach and she scrambles to pull the covers up to her chest, mind racing through the haze of pulsating music, flashing lights, and alcohol.

The door opens quietly, and she sees the head of a man pop through—wild, black curls falling across the top of square-framed glasses, a curious look on his face that gives way to a small smile.

Oh. She remembers him. 

Through the haze of the night cuts certain sensations: warm hands running gently across the skin of her back, the taste of cinnamon and whisky against soft lips and an exploring tongue, the way desire had pooled hot and tight in her abdomen as lips and teeth trailed up the inside of her thighs with a teasingly rough—

“Hi,” he says, moving through the door slowly, and Lily can spot the culprit of the wake-up aroma. In his hands (his warm, gentle hands) is a tray with a few rashers of bacon, toast, a small bowl of porridge, and black tea with a little thimble of milk next to it.

“Hi,” Lily breathes, brows furrowing as she takes all of this in and pulls her mind from the memories of last night. “What’s all of this?”

The man places the tray beside her, still taking care to stand, and she’s floored to see his smile take on a decidedly bashful quality as his now free hand runs through his black curls (oh yeah, she remembers that too.) “Sorry if it’s a bit overkill, I don’t really know what you like.” A pause. “I don’t really know you at all.”

Lily’s eyes travel down to the food beside her and back up. It’s so…nice. Something has to be amiss. “Are you about to tell me we didn’t use a condom or something?”

His face reddens and he chokes on something between mortification and a laugh before regaining his senses. “No! No, absolutely—of course not—I mean of course we did—I just…” he trails off, pursing his lips as he looks around the room, undoubtedly searching for the words to say what he needs to say. 

Satisfied enough during his silence, Lily’s grip on the quilt tightens with one hand as she reaches for a piece of toast, eyes on him as she waits.

He sighs and his gaze meets hers once more. “I don’t…well…fuck…” he rubs his forehead. “I don’t remember your name and I feel like an absolute dick about it.”

Lily blinks before throwing her head back in a laugh. When she looks at him again, she notices the tension in his shoulders has eased and he’s lost some of the utter mortification from his face.

“So you made me breakfast in bed to apologize?”

A flush crawls up his neck and Lily’s eyes are drawn to a darker spot just below his ear that is undoubtedly her handiwork—oops. “I mean it’s also, you know, polite. But I was feeling awful about it the whole time.”

She takes a bite of the toast. “You know, most guys wouldn’t put in half this effort whether they remembered my name or not.”

“Well those guys are knobs,” the man replies with a furrow in his brow. Lily hums in agreement, setting the toast down and reaching for the mug of tea.

“I might be a bit of a knob as well,” she confesses, hiding her smile behind the rim of the mug, “because I’ve forgotten your name, too.”

He sinks down on the very corner of the bed (his bed, Lily thinks), a sigh of relief rushing out of his lungs as a mischievous smile tugs at his lips. “And you waited this long to tell me?”

Lily grins back, shrugging before tucking the quilt under her tea-holding arm to keep the modesty cover in place (though he’s seen it all) and extending the empty hand to him.

“Lily Evans. Pleasure to re-meet you.”

“James Potter,” he states as he takes her hand, and the electricity of his touch shoots straight up her arm, to her spine, and down to somewhere low in her abdomen. “Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”

“Not all yours,” she comments lightly, and revels in the way his grasp on her hand tightens ever-so-slightly at the words.

[gotham-ruaidh]

Who I Am - a 7x07 and 7x08 story

Set in the “Tell Me About Your Family” universe – where William visits the new Big House at Fraser’s Ridge together with Jamie, Claire, Brianna and Roger and their kids, Ian and Rachel and wee Oggy, Fanny, and Jenny Fraser Murray, in an imagined Book 9-ish timeline. He’s known that Jamie is his father for some time, but this is his first “family” visit.

Catch up on the story here:

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10

--

“I thought ye said ye were raised on a farm.”

Jenny Fraser Murray reached across to undo the knot that William had somehow tangled in the wool. “Here. Ye pull the strands apart like this, and then ye wind them together.”

William flushed but kept his head bent to his work. “I lived on my stepfather’s plantation for a time, but I was always busy riding or studying with my tutors or helping him entertain guests. I’m afraid I’m not much of a farmer, Auntie Jenny.”

She tsked. “So I assume ye never learned to clickit, either?”

“Pardon?”

“To make socks or scarves wi’ yarn using needles.”

Carefully he wound the strands of raw wool. “To knit? No, I never learned that either. Though I do remember my grandmother Dunsany had a basket full of yarn and thread and thimbles in her sitting room. I got into it once when I was a boy and she was not too happy with me.”

Jenny expertly tied off a handful of raw wool, and carefully took the wool from William’s hands. “Jamie and I learned to clickit from our Mam when we were bairns. My husband Ian – we grew up together, and one year for Hogmanay before we were courting, we knit each other hats wi’out knowing.” She smiled at the memory. “No’ like I needed one, mind. But it was a nice gift all the same.”

William gathered the tied-off piles of wool from the table and began stacking them on the tray Jenny had brought out onto the porch. “Was that before or after he lost his leg?”

“Oh, before. And he didnae lose the whole leg, just the part below the knee. He took grapeshot to the leg when he and Jamie were mercenaries in Flanders.”

That got William’s attention. “Da was a mercenary?”

Jenny nodded, stretching the cramp out of her neck and shoulders. “Aye, for the year after Father died. He had a price on his heid, so he needed to be somewhere else. He spoke French, so the choice was simple.” She turned to look at her nephew. “Did ye not ken that? Weel, I suppose there’s still a lot you don’t ken about my brother.”

William pursed his lips. “I didn’t know, no. It must have been his first time serving with an army, I suppose. And a foreign one, too.”

They watched a hawk glide soundlessly over the mountain. Smiled at Jem and Germaine sitting high up in the oak tree at the edge of the dooryard, swinging their legs from a high branch.

“He’s no’ spoken to me about it. Ever. Ian came home wounded, but Jamie didnae come back to Lallybroch wi’ him, on account of him being a wanted man. It took months until Ian was back on his feet, and while I mended him he told me a few things here and there about what it was like with the army. But then we turned back to running Lallybroch, and we were marrit not too long afterward, so…”

William stood, and extended a hand to help Jenny to her feet. Carefully he gathered the tray, now heaped high with wool. “Where may I take this for you, Auntie?”

--

It was a fine, crisp late summer evening. Roger supervised Jem, Germaine, Mandy, and Fanny washing the supper dishes at the trough in the dooryard, taking advantage of the last light. Jenny and Brianna’s voices drifted from somewhere inside the house, planning for the next day’s spinning of the raw wool into yarn. Ian and Rachel had retreated to their cabin with Oggy, who had fussed quite a bit during supper and clearly needed somewhere quiet to rest.

“Here.” William looked up to see his father holding out a pewter cup, took it, and shifted a bit on the bench to allow room for Jamie to sit beside him.

“I still can’t believe how peaceful it is here,” William remarked, watching the last rays of sun touch the treetops on the mountain.

“Aye. I’ve a short list of things I’m most happy about in my life. Getting the grant for this land is on it.” Jamie held out his own pewter cup, and William tapped it. “Slainte.”

“Slan-juh,” William echoed, taking a sip, feeling proud he did not immediately grimace.

Jamie smiled. “Good lad. We’ll have ye speaking the Gaidhlig fluently before too long.”

“You speak French?”

Jamie frowned, a bit surprised at the sudden question. “I do. And the Latin and Greek, a bit of Cherokee, and a wee bit of Chinese as weel.” He sipped his whisky. “And you, wee William? You must have the Latin and Greek, if your education was as good as Lord John has told me.”

“Yes. And French, and now some of the Prussian language as well.”

“Of course, on account of the Hessians.”

William nodded. Sipped his whisky. “I’m asking because Auntie Jenny told me today that you had served as a mercenary.”

“In Flanders. Aye. That was a long time ago.”

“Was that your first time serving in an army?”

Jamie stretched out his long legs, exposing his kneecaps as the drapes of the kilt fell away, pocked with scars.

“It was. I didnae have much choice, mind you. I had escaped from the English at Fort William, in the Highlands. I was being held for murdering an officer. I hadnae murdered him, mind you, but there was no reasoning with the garrison commander. That man had had me flogged twice in the space of a week, after all.”

William’s eyes bugged at this information.

Claire emerged onto the porch, medical apron tied over her skirts. “There you are. Is now a good time?”

Jamie shifted his pewter cup to his left hand, and extended his right hand over the rail of the bench. Claire pulled up a chair so that Jamie’s four-fingered hand lay in her lap, and pulled a jar out of a pocket.

William blinked, remembering his manners, and craned his neck to see. “What’s that?”

Claire opened the jar and set it between her knees. “It’s a salve I make for Jamie, on account of the pain he still feels in his hand. Helps to loosen the tension. Especially on days like today when I know he’s been using it too much.”

“Near every bone in this hand was broken when I was no’ much older than you,” Jamie explained casually, grimacing a bit as Claire’s sure fingers kneaded the salve into the tissue. “Pained me for years. And then at Saratoga I injured it again. Both times, Claire mended me. She promised me I’d have a working hand, and I do.”

“My first real surgery, this hand was,” she murmured, massaging the palm with both thumbs.

Jamie leaned over to kiss her forehead.

William cleared his throat. “I knew that Saratoga was not your first battle.”

“But it was yours,” Jamie interjected.

William took a sip of whisky. “Yes. I – I thought I would be better prepared.”

“There’s nothing that can prepare you, lad. I was but twenty years old when I fought my first true battle. I’d done the occasional cattle raid here and there, so I thought I’d be ready.”

“I wager you weren’t.”

“No. Drilling is easy. Knowing what to do in the heat of battle, right after you see your comrades die in front of you…that’s something else entirely.”

William watched Fanny and Mandy carefully carry a stack of clean plates and pewter cups across the dooryard and back into the house. Smelled the sharp, clean tang of the ointment.

“I am ashamed to tell you this, but I do not think I acted too honorably in the first battle.”

“At Saratoga, you mean?”

William nodded, looking down at his hands. “I froze. My comrade…my friend…took a bullet right next to me. All I remember is General Fraser screaming at me, but I couldn’t hear any of the words.”

He watched Jamie’s hand slide on to his, gripping it. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, son. It’s the hell of a shock. I’ve experienced it myself, a time or two.”

“Prestonpans. Culloden. The war with the Regulators,” Claire murmured.

William swallowed. “I recovered, of course, and led the next charge. Though now I realize it was you and your men I was fighting, and that fact makes me absolutely sick to my stomach.”

Jamie squeezed his son’s hand. “Take that feeling, lad, and multiply it by the largest number ye can think of. And then you’ll know just how I felt, when in the second battle I shot your hat right off your heid.”

William raised his mug to his lips, watching the liquid slosh as his hand shook. Feeling his body seize up with tension. “Dear God.”

His vision swam. His pulse dropped.

Steps – Mother Claire. Gently taking away his mug, and resting her hands on his shoulders. “William. It’s all right. You’re here with us now. Breathe deep.”

Jamie’s hand gripping his. “In and out, lad. Follow me.”

Claire undoing his stock, settling a hand on the clammy back of his neck. “Slowly now.”

He did not know if it was minutes or hours that Jamie and Claire surrounded him, comforted him, soothed him.

But when he did return to himself, he was crying.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped.

Jamie squeezed his shoulder, and kissed his temple. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, lad.”

“It’s called a panic attack.” Claire felt his cheeks and forehead with the back of a cool hand. “Have you had them before?”

He licked his parched lips. “Yes, but never that strong. Only when I’m truly upset.”

“I can give you some guidance on what to do, should it happen again and we’re not here to help,” she said gently. “But there’s no cure. I’m sorry to tell you that even in my time, these things happen. Perhaps even more frequently.”

William swallowed. “Have men not discovered a way to end all wars, then?”

She knelt on the porch, still holding his pulse between her fingers. “I’m afraid not. You know that Jamie’s endured several wars. I endured a war of my own, in the years right before I met him. England and France and the Americans were all on the same side of this war, if you can believe it. Fighting the Prussians, in the fields of France.”

“They called it a world war,” Jamie added. “Men fighting each other wi’out swords, but with guns, and with bombs dropped from the sky.”

“I worked in an aid station, right at the edge of the combat zone.” Claire looked at him, but her eyes were so far away. “Patched up many men not too much older than you. So, I understand.”

William swallowed. “I – I am a soldier. Being a soldier is what I’ve aspired to for my whole life. To be like my stepfather, and the men in his family.”

Jamie and Claire listened, patient.

“But I like this – being with all of you, here in the quiet. Perhaps I’m more cut out to be a farmer. I love my men, but this life here…”

“We understand, William.” Jamie reached to cup his son’s cheek, for the first time in his life, as if he were a wee lad. “And we will love you and support you no matter what you choose.”

“The Americans will win this war, will they not?”

“They will,” Claire said softly. “Of that I’m certain.”

William set his jaw. “Perhaps I should start spending a lot more time here.”

“There’s nothing we’d love more. But you have a life outside of this place, William – we cannae keep you from it.”

“Being here, with all of you, this past week – it makes me wonder whether this life here is more important. I need more time with you, Da – and with you, Mother Claire – and with Brianna and her family. I need to know who I am.”

Jamie smiled. “You already do, lad.”

[clavissionary-position]

The Day Luke Got His Purple Shirt

Gilbert: Taa-daa~ What do we think?

Luke, age 19: Did ya make this?

Gilbert: Ahaha, be serious.

Luke: (searches for any hint of goth or lace on the shirt) Not bad. Goes with my green stuff so I guess it's alright.

Luke: But why's it so big?

Gilbert: Because I predict you'll reach a final height of 7 feet. Aren't you just the luckiest?

Luke: I haven't grown in years.

Gilbert: Only because Obsidian air limits the vertical growth of its residents. You'll sprout like a weed once you're back in Rhodolite.

Luke: Is that what ya tell yourself?

Gilbert: It's an empirical fact that 87% of my vertical development happened during my Rhodolite stay during my youth. My only regret in life is not conquering it during puberty.

Luke: ...Right. Well what about that cousin of yours or whatever? The Fifth Prince?

Gilbert: (smiles while scraping his fork across the table) That little teacup? Isn't it obvious? He'd have been the size of a thimble were it not for that hideously crisp croissant-infused Rhodolite air.

Luke: I can't tell if your jokin' or if this is actually what ya believe.

Gilbert: (ambiguous smile)

Luke: Cool. Thanks for the shirt. Is this your way of tellin' me you won't be paying for my clothing expenses anymore?

Gilbert: Not unless you join my sewing club.

Luke: For the last time, Gil. No. I like sewing alone. I know YOU like sewing alone.

Gilbert: Hehe, you're not wrong. But what if I told you I managed to convince the Third Prince of Rhodolite to join? Only a fool would pass up an opportunity like that, right?

Luke: More like coerced him probably. (groans) I'll think about it

Gilbert: Perfect. We meet twice every day.

Luke: Why.

[so-very-small]

A Late Night

A continuation of these two story snippets here and here, commissioned by the wonderful @belethlegwen ! I had such a fun time writing this!

ko-fi | patreon

--

The open bar doors did nothing to dissipate the heat in the air. The rural little town was never anything but hot and humid, even long after the sun went down and the bar fell empty. It was a late night, the weekends always had patrons lingering longer than usual, putting more work on the Bartender and the Barmaid's shoulders.

She was perched on the bar top, wiping down sticky puddles of spilled drinks, hauling old napkins across the polished wood to drop them in the trash. The soft sound of the cicadas outside kept her company, along with the Bartender. He was putting all the chairs up on the tables, reading the floor for a much needed mop. Despite trying to focus solely on her work, the Barmaid couldn't help but send over little glances, watching him lift chairs the size of entire buildings as if it weren't nothing.

(It was a little hypnotizing.)

(He was a little hypnotizing.)

The two always worked in tandem in a comfortable silence, as they always had since she moved there about six months ago. Giants had long since gone from intimidating to every day, but there was something specifically different about him. He made her nervous, but not in a bad way, not at all. She kept a careful watch of him from the corner of her eye, unable to deny the little buzz in her chest when he got a bit closer to the bar.

The Barmaid paused, lifting a hand to run a sleeve over her face. The day had been long. The heat was worse than it was back home, still sweltering even in the late hour. She took in a shaky breath, realizing just how long she had been working without a break. A small pang of dizziness hit her head, the foggy feeling reminding her Hey, hydration is important! A small thimble of water was on the other edge of the counter for that specific purpose, and she dropped the napkin in her hand so she could navigate over to it.

She made it about halfway.

Movement sent the dizziness into overdrive; stars burst in the corner of her vision, sweeping up into a black vignette. The bar grew hazy, and then she couldn't see at all, limbs failing her at the same second she went totally blind. She had the vague sensation of landing on something warm and calloused, and then all her senses went out entirely.

It could have been minutes, or seconds, but eventually her eyes did drift open. She blinked hazily a few times, a looming shadow blocking out the overhead lights of the bar. Two brown eyes took up her entire field of vision, staring down at her in intense scrutiny, worry making the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"Are you alright, darlin'?"

The Bartender's voice was low, intentionally soft, but it still felt overwhelming this close. She blinked once more, still returning to the waking world, putting her hands down by her sides to help prop herself up into a sitting position. Her small palms met warm, rough skin, and it's only then that she noticed the arch of his fingers over her, his pulse thrumming heavily underneath her in his palm.

(Another rush of dizziness fell over her, this one a bit different. This one prompted by the honey of his eyes, the closeness of his face.)

(Her heart skipped a beat or two.)

(He'd never held her before.)

"Yeah," she squeaked out, remembering he had asked a question, "Yes, sorry, I... I think the heat got to me."

The Bartender nodded, pulling her back from his face slightly. He frowned, eyes worriedly scanning her up and down, and she felt like a bug under a microscope. His gaze was damn near as overwhelming as the hot air. The man carefully pursed his lips, gently blowing over her. It was like a gentle gust of wind, chilly on her face and blowing back a few loose strands of her hair, slightly sweet with just the faintest hint of tobacco from his last smoke break. Goosebumps erupted over her skin, and she told herself it was just from the chill, and nothing else.

"Did that help any?" he whispered.

The Barmaid couldn't help but smile at his concern.

"Thank you," she said, because it was all she could think to say.

The Bartender smiled, lips pulling up into that familiar crooked grin. He stood straight, hand cradling her coming near to his chest, and he quickly crossed the distance to the bar. He picked up the thimble of water carefully, and handed it over to her. Her small hands brushed his fingertips as she took it, and it felt like itty bitty sparks dancing across her skin.

"There's a lil’ breeze outside," he said, glancing at the door. "I think we're both overdue for a break."

Finishing her sip of water, she nodded. Today had been far too long, and a few moments of respite were needed. His hand shifted slightly under her, cupping her more carefully as he drifted out of the bar, into the marginally cooler air outside. The breeze helped, if just a little. He took a seat on an old crate in front of the building, taking in the dead streets around him. No one else was awake or out; it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

"Would you rather my shoulder, or..?" he asked, not quite sure where to place the tiny woman.

"Is... is it alright if I stay in your hand?" she asked in turn, and quickly took another sip of water, hoping it'd conceal the flush in her cheeks.

The Bartender had no such thing to hide behind, and she saw the gentle pink that crossed his face. He nodded, smiling down at her, shifting his fingers lightly. She leaned back against them, never feeling more safe than she did in that moment.

"That's more than alright with me, darlin'."

[itsa-me-lily]

Work sucked and just...yeah.

Simon & Thimble playlist

MPS AU master playlist

Simon knew something was wrong as he shut the door behind him. Typically you had something playing; music or some sort video from the internet. But the inside of your home was quiet, and you were just laying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling in this solemn way. His first instinct screamed that something had happened with the pigs again, but a quick look told him that all three were fine, save for the staring they were doing. Probably wanted another treat if he had a guess. So at least the boys were safe. That just left everything else in the world...great.

He made a point to make as much noise taking off his boots as he could, just so he wouldn't startle you. Last thing he needed was you falling off the couch and hurting yourself. You didn't move much, just turning your head enough to look at him. He noticed that your eyes were red rimmed and it instantly made something in his chest tight. You'd been crying.

He was going to ignore the way it made him want to hunt down whatever or whoever did it.

"Everythin' alright?"

You sighed like the weight of the world was pressing down on your chest, looking back to the ceiling.

"It's stupid."

"Let me be the judge of that. I do work with Soap."

It didn't pull a full smile from your lips, but Simon could see the corner of your mouth twitch as he went to get himself a glass of water. Small victories and all that. He didn't rush you for an answer, letting the sound of the water faucet fill the space before the silence came again.

"They took the holiday party from me."

"Isn't it already December?"

At least it was the last time he checked, and from what he recalled of your ranting, you'd had that wrapped up a month prior.

"Next years. They want a fucking committee to plan it next time."

Simon was...confused. By his reason it seemed like it would be a win for you. You wouldn't have to deal with any kind of deadline or planning issues. All you had to do at the end of the day was just submit the bills. He must have taken too long to answer because you just sighed again, turning so you were facing the back of the cough.

Fuck.

Yeah to him at least it was kind of stupid for you to be all upset about some office holiday party. Planning them sounded like a pain in the ass. But you were upset and just ignoring it would be a dick move on his part. Not to mention he'd still have to deal with it, he liked sitting on the couch now and again.

Resisting the urge to sigh himself he took his cup over to sit on the ground at the end of the couch where your head was. He saw with his back to you. Maybe it'd make it easier for you.

"Come on. Explain it to me so I get it."

He could only imagine the look on your face. You probably had your brow furrowed, lips all puckered so it made your cheeks puff out a little.

"I worked really hard on the holiday parties."

Simon hummed, hoping it would encourage you to keep going.

"I made sure that it could work for everyone but it still isn't good enough."

He didn't expect for your voice to start to get creaky, like you were trying to talk through a throat full of tears. He also didn't expect it to feel like a stab to the heart.

"I'm trying to help take something off everyone's plate, make sure that its a nice way to end the year and they're just throwing it back in my face."

Oh. Oh no. Simon could hear a sniffle behind him. This was a terrible plan of his and he couldn't just tell you to just stuff it now could he?

"I'm not respected enough to do my job right, helping just ends up with people being angry with me. I'm so frustrated and I just want to be done with it all."

Simon was tempted to tell you that technically speaking, if you wanted, you could quit your job and just stay at home with the boys. He had enough saved. But he didn't. Didn't think it would actually solve the issue.

He let you both sit in the silence of it all for a while, until the sniffling dwindled back down.

"So what'cha gonna do."

"My job."

Well that didn't seem very satisfying to Simon at all.

"And just my job. No offering to do anything, no going out of my way. Follow the job description to the letter and not a single thing above it."

Simon should have fond it concerning how attractive he found the idea of you being spiteful. Well a little malicious compliance never hurt anyone right?

"Atta girl."

[guild-of-lilguys]

[via bleedinghearth]

Zzz...zzz...

What's he doing here? Why's he on the sofa? None of these questions will be answered. Instead, he simply is, and he's deeply asleep, hugged onto a throw, and draped in another, snoring in a sunbeam spearing through the window in the early morning. A warm mug of tea sits forgotten on the coffee table, steam still curling up from its sandalwood surface, smelling richly of cream and herbal, floral goodness.

He must have gotten so comfy that he just passed out.

@bleedinghearth

Moments later after the being had drifted off to sleep, a small orange and badge ship no bigger than a thimble... Came flying inside through an open window, softly puttering while orange light and light gray smoke trailing behind it! It did a quick scan for a proper landing place.

"Alright... Perhaps... Ah yes! right here should be g-" Just as the pilot was about to finish that thought there was a sudden droning sound. Like loud thunder or engines from a big machine revving up. Yokki took a pause, wondering if that was some type of fluke? Must be coming from some of the wildlife around here right? 'zzz...'

"Oh! Oh! There it is again, that's a bit too loud to be any other creature- It might be treasure, I could fill up on Sparklium... Let me- A this is a good platform!" The little ship put-putted all the way to the tall end table next to the giant couch, the onion followed after and landed neatly in the middle. Captain Yokki beamed down with their trusted bulbmin, giving it a little pat on the head. "Let's survey the area shall we, Bubs? The drone is still down after last time so we have to do this on foot." Bubs chirps and bent a knee to let them hop on it's back, using it's stem Yokki can steer Bubs where they want to go. Treading across this large lumpy shape, it seems to rise and fall in a certain rhythm... Could it be alive? The two pressed forward, towards the orange fuzzy thing on the other end. That's where the sound is loudest, unbeknownst to Yokki-... They'll be treading on this poor person's face;

[hellcheer-heaven]

You’ve Got a Friend in Me

Chrissy can’t help but stare at the Build-A-Bear Workshop whenever she and Eddie pass by it at Starcourt Mall. This gives Eddie a little idea.

Bearded Eddie edit was created by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Link to post here

Like any giant mega mall in the US, Starcourt had received a new face lift. From paint jobs, trendy stores, and a play area for small children to run around and blow off their steam before inevitably slipping off of a climbing structure; Starcourt Mall was the place to be for families, tweens, and teens. As for the adults with no kids, well a fair amount of the mall still had the spirit of the 80s still in tact. Jazzercise was still around, Spencer’s was still selling their usual novelty items with the back area still receiving an influx of adults only merchandise, and Scoops Ahoy was all the rage with new flavors coming in every couple of months. More kid friendly places were included to appeal to the ever growing population of young children in Hawkins; Build-A-Bear Workshop was certainly no exception. Lines were formed each day the moment that store hit the mall, it was the place to be to make a best friend that you can cherish for the rest of your life. That is if said child didn’t end up leaving it at a park or giving it away because they were “too old” to have stuffed animals anymore. Still that didn’t stop the grown up children to stop and take a peak through the windows to see what it was like inside.

Any time Chrissy and Eddie took a trip to the mall, she often kept her eyes on the establishment whenever they passed by. The giant brown bear sporting its tutu, holding up its sewing needle, and hat thimble appeared so inviting. The little lopsided smile always plastered across its face as if it were saying to come over and play. She felt an unusual sense of joy whenever they walked by, but then urged herself to look away. She hoped that Eddie didn’t notice the way her blue eyes sparkled with child like curiosity, but she forgets that even his cynical eyes could recognize unambiguous love.

Chrissy absentmindedly stirred the ketchup in the little white container, sighing softly through her nostrils.

He looked up at her after taking another sip of his lemonade, clearing his throat, “Something on your mind sweetheart?”

Her hand continued to move the condiment, “Hmm? What’d you say?”

He chuckled, “Well I mean you’ve been stirring the ketchup for a good five minutes now. I figured you should probably eat that fry before it gets soggy.”

Chrissy shrugged and took a bite, resting her chin on her palm, “So, where do you want to go next?”

He could tell her, but maybe it was better if she answered first, “Well maybe we could try a store we haven’t gone to yet?”

Her brow rose as she thought for a moment, “So… you want to check out Hot Topic?”

He was offended, “What?! No way.”

She rolled her eyes with a smirk, “Had a little change of heart big boy?”

“Chrissy I’d rather be dead than go to Hot Topic!”

Her smirk was still there, “Eddie you’re not even goth. Why do you care so much?” She realized her mistake, quickly placing her finger on his lip, “Actually don’t answer that, because the last thing I need is a speech about how it’s not ‘real goth’ or something. Right?”

His defeated expression was enough of an indication that she knew him all too well. She may be sweet, but she could be a little smug especially when she was right about something.

“Okay, let me rephrase my question: Is there a place here that you’ve had your eye on?”

She gulped, he doesn’t know does her? He simply wouldn’t know about her intention of visiting the workshop. Chrissy did that little action where she sucked her lips in and looked away whenever she felt nervous.

She popped them free“I… I don’t know.”

He leaned in, allowing himself to fall into the role of a private detective, “You sure? There isn’t any place in particular? Anything having to do with something… customizable?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stated bluntly.

Okay forget private detective, might as well just confront the matter. “Chrissy, do you want to go to Build-A-Bear?”

Her eyes widened, although it wasn’t out of excitement, “What? No! That place is for kids! I’m not going in there.”

Eddie titled his head, “Mmm, no I’m pretty sure you do want to go.” He held up his hand, “Hold on, ‘bear’ with me on this.” He was awfully proud of that one, “I’ve seen the way you look at that place when we come to Starcourt. You look so interested and I thought maybe we could check it out.”

Her heart rate started to rise, “Eddie we can’t.”

“Why not?”

She had to think and fast, “Because we just can’t.”

He couldn’t fathom that reasoning, “We can’t or we won’t?”

Her eyes began to dart around, were people watching them? Did they hear them?, “Eddie, please let’s not fight.”

Eddie reached over and held her hands, speaking sweetly to her with a gentle smile across his face, “Baby, we’re not fighting. It’s okay, everything’s alright.”

She looked away, “Can we go please?”

He pecked her knuckles, “Very well.”

Chrissy stood up and held herself, “I’m sorry, I just… I want…”

Eddie cradled her shaking form, a loving kiss to her forehead helped to quell a little bit of her anxiousness, “It’s okay, let’s just go home and relax.”

She looked up at him with sadness behind those sky colored irises, “I’m sorry, I know you wanted to get new jeans and I just ruined the day for you.”

Another kiss to her forehead and then one upon the tip of her nose, “No babe, it’s okay. Not the end of world that I didn’t get my jeans today. There’s always next time. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Eddie felt bad for questioning her like that. To him it was a regular conversation, to Chrissy it felt like an interrogation. She had some difficulty distinguishing whether Eddie was being serious, joking, or just playfully teasing her. All those years of being under Laura’s iron thumb made typical interactions feel like threats to her. She tried her best in her childhood and adolescence to just simply smile and take it. Being with Eddie allowed for her to express whatever she was feeling. It wasn’t always easy, she would experience uncomfortable sensations at the pit of her stomach, an increased heart beat, chills running up her spine, and shortness of breath. Eddie was her biggest supporter and would offer her whatever she needed when she felt distressed. Sometimes the best options involved finding a new place to breath or leaving the area altogether. Chrissy was grateful for his love and assistance, but she often felt guilty for departing. This wasn’t the first time either. Their first Christmas together at the Harrington household caused her to feel out of place and they stayed for about an hour before Chrissy made up an excuse about feeling queasy. When they went to the community pool and she felt self conscious about wearing a bikini for the first time in her life. When they rented a movie that dealt with strong subject matters, he stopped the tape and cuddled with her under a blanket. Chrissy blamed herself for being too sensitive, often calling herself “stupid” or a “big baby.” Well she wasn’t, she was in touch with her emotions and sometimes she needed that bit of extra support from the ones that cared for her.

Another week passed and the two of them made it their plan to drop by the mall to grab his jeans, window shop, and maybe even check out the latest drama film that was all the rage according to top film critics. They were there a bit early, one of the first groups of people to wait in line before the place opened. They recognized a few familiar faces here and there, said their hellos, and resumed practicing patient until it was time to step in.

Eddie leaned in closer and whispered, “Chrissy, I was thinking that we could make a quick stop somewhere before we get my stuff. Is that alright?”

She nodded, “Yeah sure. Where do you want to go?”

He popped his lips, unable to hold back his mischievous grin, “Well I heard that supposedly a new store opened.”

She cocked her head, “Already? That’s weird, I didn’t hear anything about it.”

“Well, it’s kind of new. I heard it’s pretty popular actually.”

She jokingly quipped, “Since when do you care about popularity Eddie?”

He chuckled as he crossed his tatted arms, “Well I figured I could make just one exception. Just for today.”

The floodgates opened and everyone poured into the vicinity, ready to spend their time and money on everything that the mall had to offer. As for Eddie his mind and money were set on something much more special for his one and only. As they drew closer, he whispered to Chrissy to close her eyes. Christmas wasn’t going to be for months and her birthday had already passed, but either way she was a sucker for surprises. How is it that Eddie had eyes behind those long locks of chocolate curls was beyond her, but somehow he managed to remind her to keep them closed. What was his plan?

His gentle voice spooked her, but still she kept her sight in darkness, “Ok, we’re here. Go ahead and open your eyes.”

Her vision was bombarded in a sea of bright colors, fluffy coats, beaded eyes, and little outfits. Small children and their families basked in the wonderful warmth of plush and promises as the little ones eagerly waited for their chance to pick a lifelong friend. Most people would be excited to step in, Chrissy wasn’t feeling very good about being here.

Her worried eyes went to him, “Eddie, why are we here?”

He didn’t have a care in the world, “Surprise Chrissy!”

She held his hand, body turning and ready to march out, “No, no we can’t be here. Please we need to leave-”

He freed himself, his tone shifting from fun to concerned, “Chrissy what’s bothering you?”

She was losing her patience, but she didn’t want to yell, at least not in the store, “Nothing is bothering me.”

He held her shoulders, “Chrissy, please tell me what’s wrong.”

She heavily sighed through her nostrils, standing on her tip toes to whisper in his ear, “Okay, but not in here. Over there at the bench, then I’ll tell you.” Chrissy felt bad again, but maybe it was time to say something, as silly as it may have seemed. Well maybe silly wasn’t the right term, bothersome was more like it. “Eddie, I know this is going to sound crazy, and it probably is.” She looked down at her hands before meeting his eyes, “I really do want a stuffed animal, it’s just… I… I feel… weird about going into a toy store.”

“Why do you say that?”

Chrissy moved a strand of strawberry blond behind her ear, “Well look at me Eddie. Look at us. We’re both unmarried, we don’t have kids, and… well… I’m just scared that someone will try to confront us.”

He cradled her hands, rubbing little circles on her skin, “Why do you think someone would do that?”

Her thoughts continued to plague her, “Well wouldn’t you be weirded out that a couple of adults are going to a toy store together? I mean, all those parents in there looking at us like we’re doing something wrong.”

Her point did hold merit. While Hawkins was one of the few small towns making some progress in terms of living in a “non traditional” way, the judgmental mindset was still just as strong as it’s always been. Perhaps it will take another generation or two until people start to see that those who were deemed “different” were not a threat in any way shape or form. For the time being, Eddie had to keep in mind that his way of looking at life and people differed greatly compared to Chrissy. Her whole life has been nothing but harsh criticism and order. Should anything that strayed just a tad from the “correct” way of life was considered deviant and was meant to be shunned. Learning to enjoy life’s little treasures and oddities would take time. That meant also having to deal with naysayers that chose to use their time to look down on others rather than utilize what little time they have left to let others be and enjoy themselves.

Eddie pecked her cheek, “Well I don’t think we’re doing anything wrong. We’re both law abiding citizens spending time together. There’s no rule stating that we can’t go in… maybe just look around a little.” His ringed hand brought her closer until she laid her head upon his shoulder. “Maybe you’ll see something that you like or maybe you won’t.”

She gulped, “But what if someone comes up to us?”

He twiddled a lock of her hair between his fingers, “Then I’ll tear them to shreds. And you can sew them back up again. Maybe we can get them a little tutu while we’re at it.”

She tried to sound firm but still ended up chuckling, “Eddie be serious.”

He held up his hands in surrender, that bashful grin stretching across his face, “Okay, okay. Sorry that was stupid… and pretty morbid.” Eddie held her hand once more, pecking the back of it, “Hey, we’ll just walk in and check it out. Just for a couple of minutes.”

“Promise?”

He crossed his chest as he gave Scout’s Honor, “I promise.”

When they walked past the doors, an employee welcomed them with a big smile across her slightly acne ridden face. Her tone was warm like a blanket fresh from the dryer, inviting them into the workshop like she usually does with all customers.

“So have you been here before?”

The question was directed to Chrissy and she felt nervous, “W-Well no I haven’t. I- We came here to just look around.”

“Alright and if you’re interested I can show you where the friends are.” She noted, gesturing to the area filled with stuffed animals. Chrissy’s interest was piqued as she gazed over the stuffies looking up at her. The employee continued, “We want to ensure that all of our friends find a home where they’ll be loved and taken care of.”

Eddie simply stood back and watched the way Chrissy’s body language changed from fearful to absorbed. Her fingers gliding along the rows of cute little animals, the artificial fur tickling the pads of her fingertips. They all looked so cuddly and so loving. Chrissy looked back over to Eddie, he still had that compassionate smile on. She didn’t need anyone’s permission to be here. Nor did she need said permission to find that spark of joy in something that many would deem childish. Her eyes spotted something sitting on a display shelf, a cozy brown bear with dark eyes, a soft nose, and big paws. The toy wore a little sweater with a name embroidered into its top.

The worker came up, “If you’re interested in adopting, I can show you how it works. All you need to do is pick out your buddy.”

Maybe she would, maybe she did need a little buddy in her life. It was no contest when she picked out the same brown bear, although it’s body looked like a deflated balloon. The process seemed simple enough for a small child to follow: Pick a friend, have them stuffed, perform a little heart ceremony, grab an article of clothing, pay, and get out. Easy peasy lemon squeezie! Of course it was necessary to remember that small children don’t have the level of self awareness the same way that an adolescent and certainly an adult has. Chrissy’s anxious feelings returned when she was to participate in the ceremony. A part of her wanted to simply ask if she could skip that portion, but another part of her was curious to know what had to be done. She picked out the little red heart, the material felt so soft in her palms. First she needed to warm up the heart between her hands, so that her friend would always feel warm. Then she needed to shake the heart because the bear does have a lot of energy. She then followed through with rubbing it on her nose so her bear knows her, on her back so her friend always has her back, on her knees so it always needs her, on her funny bone so bear can always tell her funny jokes, on her muscles so bear is always strong, on her forehead so he can show her how smart and clever he is, and finally on her heart.

“Rub it on your heart because bear loves you,” the worker noted in a sing song tone and with an endearing smile. “Okay, just one more thing! Make a wish to the heart.”

To an outsider this whole thing must have appeared so silly. A grown woman doing these motions and playing this little game as if her bear would come to life like the toys in Toy Story. Yet everyone in the store was much too busy with bringing their own friends to life; even those that passed the store were focused on other matters. Chrissy brought the soft heart to her lips and whispered something to it. Something so sweet and loving that only the little bear would know it. Finally the little cartoon shaped organ was placed into the stuffed animal and she was ready to go clothes shopping. Nothing really spoke to her in terms of what she believed would have suited the animal best. Eddie figured that she would have picked something similar to what she has at home: Bright, patterned, and perhaps pastel colored. If only the place had a cheerleading uniform, now that would be adorable. Or perhaps a mini faux leather jacket, a rock band shirt, and jeans ripped at the knees. Maybe he should consider sending a letter to the company for possible clothing options. Chrissy picked out a simple white sweater and asked for an embroidered name, however she informed Eddie to not look until it was ready.

He humored her and covered his eyes, “You’re the boss.”

He suddenly felt a fuzzy paw brush his cheek, a silly little voice spoke to him, “Ok Eddie, you can open your eyes.”

Before he could respond or even look at the bear, his eyes went straight to the golden embroidery upon its top. In big bold letters the name “TEDDIE” stared right back at him.

“Surprise!” Chrissy said with such enthusiasm. “I named him after you. He’s my little Eddie teddy. What do you think?”

He couldn’t stop his lip from trembling, “Baby that’s so sweet.”

Once the payment process was complete, they made their way over to the food court, picked out a couple of jeans for Eddie, and made their way over to the movie theater. Most people were eagerly awaiting to see the newest animated film Hercules and so they decided to buy tickets to that instead. They sat in the far back so she could watch the comedy musical while nuzzled up against Eddie and Teddie. Finally it was time for them to head home and she continued to snuggle up with her bear during the drive, ruffling up its fur and nuzzling her nose upon its nose. Pressing a little kiss to its forehead before placing it upon her lap.

She placed her hand on his thigh, “Thank you Eddie, I had a great time today.”

He held her hand and kissed it, “I’m happy to hear sweetheart.”

“I’ll love this bear forever.”

“Oh no, I’m being replaced,” he mentioned as he dramatically placed his hand upon his heart. “Oh my little felt heart!”

Chrissy rolled her eyes, reaching Teddie over to kiss his cheek, “Better?”

“Much better.”

Later that night Eddie found Chrissy fast asleep with Teddie snuggled up in her arms. He just wanted to capture that moment with their polaroid camera, but opted to take his place at her side instead. Her mind was at peace and all she needed was a little buddy in her life. Of course no stuffed animal could ever replace her beloved. Still Teddie may get a little lonely all by himself, especially when they have to go to work.

Perhaps he may need a companion one day.