#baby alpaca throw blanket

[chronicangel]

Pacifica Northwest's Sweet Sixteen

Link to this fic on AO3. Words: 4169 Date posted: October 17, 2024

Summary:

You are invited to the greatest party of the century!

When Pacifica wakes up, it’s still dark out.

She reaches over instinctively to turn off her alarm before she realizes that her alarm isn’t going off, and then she just stares up at the silk canopy over her bed. She must have had a nightmare, but she can’t remember it. That’s good, she thinks. It’s always harder to get back to sleep when she remembers them.

She picks up her phone to squint at the time. 5:03 AM. Happy birthday to me, she thinks, rolling her eyes. She’d check her social media, but it’s too early for any of the other people who actually care about her birthday to have said anything to her, and she doesn’t want to scroll through all of the pictures of happy families and families pretending to be happy for the holiday. She’s going to get plenty of that at home today, she thinks.

As much as she’d begged and pleaded for Susan to let her work today, her boss had rightfully pointed out that even if the diner wasn’t closed for the day to give all of the other employees time off with their families, they wouldn’t have any customers. No escaping her parents, then. They probably wouldn’t have reacted well if she tried to skip their party, anyway.

You are invited to the greatest party of the century! Celebrate Gravity Falls’ own winter miracle with us once again at the annual Northwest Winter Gala, Christmas and a birthday all wrapped into one. This year’s theme: Sweet 16. Colors are champagne, lavender, and the Canadian dollar. Gifts are mandatory.

She wanted to puke when her mother handed her the invites along with the guest list and told her the envelopes had to be in her handwriting as if she’d had any choice in who was coming.

She gives up on getting back to sleep. It was stupid to think she’d be able to in the first place. She almost never can, and her birthday is an especially miserable occasion. She still remembers when Mom used to wake her up at midnight with a slice of chocolate cake that she was absolutely not allowed to eat in bed, back when her parents still pretended to like her.

Despite the drafts of snow she can see through her bedroom window, her room is nice and toasty when she throws the blankets off. She used to have her own fireplace. It was probably a safety hazard, but she liked sitting in front of it to read on late winter nights.

She glares at her closet. The dress her mother has picked for her this evening looks like the middle step between a wedding dress and the sort of dress you stuff a toddler into for Easter pictures. She hates it, but she knows not wearing it will be a bigger issue than it’s worth.

For now, she skips right past it to put on winter clothes instead. Fleece-lined leggings, fluffy socks made from alpaca wool imported from Peru, a turtleneck that had been knitted for her by the Austrian prince’s grandmother, and a coat she bought with her own money during their last ski trip to the Alps make up the basics of her outfit, and by the time she gets downstairs and to the front door, they’re joined by a scarf that feels like running water in her hands and luxury brand hiking boots made from shell cordovan.

There’s something so refreshing about the gust of cold air that hits her face when she steps outside, immediately whipping her bangs into her eyes. It is not a still or quiet morning in Gravity Falls. After they had lost the mansion, they moved into a new one in the closest thing Gravity Falls has to “the suburbs,” and there is no big hill or private patch of forest to block the wind from biting at her nose and fingertips. She sucks in a deep breath of it and watches it fog up in front of her as she exhales.

Maybe it’s because she’s a winter baby, but she’s always found the cold weather so grounding. When her boots sink into the snow and it threatens to pour over the top against her socks, that’s when the world feels the most real.

The woods are never far in Gravity Falls even if your family doesn’t own their own private portion of the forest, and when every other scent has been crowded out by pine and the snow is in a thinner layer on the ground because it has too many tree branches to get through to pile up, that’s when she really relaxes. She thinks she can’t have been walking for more than twenty or thirty minutes, and a quick glance at her phone confirms it. Her hair isn’t being thrown around by the wind anymore, safe within the barrier of the trees, but the damage has already been done. She can practically hear her mom’s temper tantrum about what a tangled mess it is, but that’s a problem for later. This moment, right now? This is just for her.

She closes her eyes and takes another deep breath. There’s a richer smell to the forest with her eyes closed. Snow doesn’t smell exactly like rain, but there’s a hint of that earthy smell, wet trees and wet grass and wet dirt all drinking up whatever they can before they freeze solid. She walks until she finds a place to sit down, a knocked-over log that’s frozen over with just a little bit of snow, and she figures it’s not a big deal if her pants get wet because she has to change before the party anyway. Mom and Dad aren’t going to like it, she thinks, but rather than the anxiety that would have gnawed at her only a few years ago at that idea, it only brings a smile to her lips. The only thing that would make this moment better is a cup of coffee.

She doesn’t know how long she just sits there like that, soaking in the peace of a winter morning. She thinks the snow must have stopped, because there aren’t even stray flurries rushing between branches anymore. Her fingers are bright red, and she can barely feel them. She should have put gloves on before she left.

Eventually, she sees the sun starting to peek over the tops of the trees, casting a golden glow on the whole forest. More than that—the snow on the ground reflects the light in a gleaming rainbow that shimmers over the entire ground. She picks her phone up to take a picture, and once she’s snapped a few that she likes, her eyes catch on a few notifications.

Mabel Pines 🌟: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!! 🩷💜💙💖💖💫🌠🦙🌲🎄Mabel Pines 🌟: omg i still cannot beLIEVE that your birthday is CHRISTMASWendy Corduroy : happy birthday, dude! hope your family is less terrible this year.Dipper 💙: Happy Birthday, Paz. I’ll call you later, ok?

She snorts. Dipper texts like such a middle-aged dad. Still, as she goes through replying to them, she tells him that she’s looking forward to it.

And she is. Even though the twins haven’t visited Gravity Falls in-person since that summer when they were 12, they’ve been a near-constant presence in her life since then. She calls Dipper in the middle of the night when she has nightmares and can’t get back to sleep (and he never seems to be able to get to sleep in the first place), she and Mabel send each other at least fifty selfies with a million filters each per day, and she jokes about running away to see them in Piedmont at least twice a week most weeks.

She hadn’t even realized that she was smiling until it drops when her mother’s caller ID pops up on the screen, and she answers before it even has the opportunity to ring and disrupt the serenity of the forest. “Where are you?” Her mother practically shrieks on the other end of the line. “We told you that we were doing birthday breakfast promptly at eight o’clock.”

Pacifica pulls the phone away from her ear to check the time and winces. It’s almost 7:45. There’s no way she’ll be able to get back to the house by eight. “Sorry, Mom,” she says when she presses the phone back to her ear, not feeling very sorry at all. “I guess I lost track of time.”

“Doing what?” Priscilla demands. Before Pacifica has the opportunity to answer, though, she continues, “Oh, it doesn’t matter. Just get your ass back here, young lady.”

It’s always bad when Mom swears. Priscilla Northwest insists that swearing is improper and unattractive, and that if you can’t get your point across without harsh language, you’re too dim-witted for high society. Pacifica thinks that most people think she and her mother are too dim-witted for high society anyway, and that if she cares so much about seeming intelligent, she probably should have spent the years curating a different image.

“Okay,” she says simply. She doesn’t apologize again before hanging up, just presses the button and hops to her feet. The cold has sunk into her bones by now, even through all of that expensive winter clothing, and it takes closer to an hour to get back to the house. It’s hard for her to feel very apologetic, though, when her mother immediately starts fussing about how dirty her clothes are and how tangled her hair is and not the almost blue color of her fingertips.

It takes hours to get ready for the party, and she doesn’t know where all of the time even goes. Hair, makeup, clothes, decorations, food, all of these things were settled so far in advance, so how can it still take until almost noon to get it all in order? By the time of the party, Pacifica is so tired she can barely muster up the energy to smile at the right people and make the right kinds of small talk. She’s sure it hardly helps that she doesn’t even like most of these people, and the few she does like don’t really like her back.

By the time dinner is being served (each attendee gets their own roasted quail and a side of rice pilaf), the only thing she wants to do is run away and hide in her room. She does the next best thing: lounging on a chaise in the parlor her parents keep their still-lightly-mud-stained white rug in when they have guests over, where people are strictly forbidden to enter, scrolling through Tittat videos on her phone. When she hears the door creak open, she knows it must be one of her parents, and she’s not sure which one she wants to see less.

“I have something for you,” her mother’s voice says, and Pacifca doesn’t really have to fight not to cringe because she’s been suppressing it her whole life, but she still feels something curl up unpleasantly inside her. Great, so I have to pretend to be grateful now.

“Mom, I thought that we were doing presents after dessert,” she says, as though it’s actually possible Priscilla forgot her overstuffed itinerary for the night.

“Well, I can’t give you this one in front of everyone else,” Priscilla huffs, and that only makes Pacifica’s dread grow. When her mother sits at the foot of the chaise, she holds out a wine glass, and Pacifica stares. “I want you to meet my friend Chardonnay.”

“Mom, I’m turning sixteen. I’m still not old enough to drink.”

Priscilla rolls her eyes. “Oh hush. I’m doing something nice for you.”

Pacifica doesn’t exactly know how giving her a glass of wine is doing something nice for her, but she knows better than to argue at this point. She takes the glass and takes a tentative sip. She doesn’t have any of the fancy adjectives to describe a very expensive glass of wine. She doesn’t know anything about tannins or acidity or barrel aging or whatever.

It’s bitter. She can’t completely stop herself from cringing, and Priscilla laughs at her. “Yep, I remember that. It’s terrible, isn’t it?” Pacifica stares again. Her mother gave her bad wine on purpose? “You get used to it, eventually. You’re going to have to, being a member of this family. It’s the only way to get through these awful parties.”

“You don’t like the parties?”

Her mother laughs again, and there’s a bitter note there that she hardly recognizes. “Goodness no. Does anyone?” Pacifica’s brows pinch together. Then why do we keep having them? She wants to ask. “Sweetheart, I know being a Northwest isn’t easy. When I first married your father, I was petrified by all of the… rules and systems. I was sure I’d never be able to learn all of it.”

Priscilla stares down into her own glass of wine, and Pacifica watches her face. There’s a slight flush to her cheeks and nose that Pacifica is familiar with after a lifetime of exposure. She must be drunk already, which is impressive, because her father strictly forbids cracking the wine open before dinner at parties. Day-drinking is a private pastime, something Pacifica supposes isn’t classy enough to be associated with the Northwests.

“But it’s for our own good, right? These are the things that we have to do to maintain our lifestyle. And isn’t that worth it?” This is not a light Pacifica has ever seen her mother in before. Never before in her life has she ever been given any reason to think that Priscilla might resent all of the conventions they’ve been forced into as much as Pacifica does. You just don’t get it, she’d told Dipper once, and maybe she doesn’t get it either.

“The day you were born, your father and I still hadn’t chosen a name for you,” her mother says, and if there was some segue into the topic, Pacifica missed it in her introspection. It seems more likely that there wasn’t any. “We knew that we wanted it to start with a ‘P’ because both of our names did. That’s the sort of opportunity that doesn’t come up very often, you know. We figured early on that you would be our only child, so we might as well make you stand out, right? But it was almost impossible to find a name suitably dramatic. And then you were born on Christmas and everything was so hectic, and we worried you were going to end up with no name at all.”

Pacifica settles back against the chaise and takes another sip from her wine, and she manages to ignore the taste for how interested she is in her mother’s story. “They put you in my arms and you immediately started crying, and I thought, ‘Great, she already hates me.’” She laughs, but there’s an edge to it, something that jabs painfully at Pacifica’s chest. “But after a minute you calmed down, and then you looked up at me with those big blue eyes, and I thought they looked just like the ocean. ‘The Pacific ocean,’ I thought, and then I grinned at your father. Pacifica Northwest. It sounded like an actress’ name. It was perfect.”

They stare at each other for a long, silent minute, and Pacifica’s brows furrow. What was the point of telling her this? Was there any point, or is it just some of Mom’s drunken rambling? Priscilla reaches out to grab a strand of her hair and opens her mouth to talk some more, but she’s cut off by Pacifica’s phone ringing, and Pacifica startles to angle the phone so the screen isn’t visible because she knows exactly who’s calling and her mother does not need to see. “I’ll let you get that. Cake in 30 minutes, okay sweetheart?”

“Okay,” she agrees, and her heart pounds with anxiety that she’s going to miss the call while she waits for Mom to leave the room before she answers. She almost drops the phone in her rush to finally hit the green button.

“Hey!” Dipper’s voice comes through a little tinny, which is a quality that Pacifica is used to when talking on the phone to anyone outside of Gravity Falls. She doesn’t know if there’s a scientific explanation, but it always feels like the rest of the world is just… dulled.

“Hey,” she says back, and whatever clawing sense of anxiety or discomfort had been lingering in her chest since Mom came into the room finally dissipates. “You’re early, I’m gonna have to go for cake and presents soon.”

“Your parents are giving you cake and presents?”

She snorts, bringing her hand up like she can catch the noise before it reaches him. “There’s still a whole party of people here to convince that we’re a happy family.”

“Ah, that explains it then,” he says, and she can hear the grin on his voice. He needs to get with the times and get a uPhone so she can see his face without going all the way upstairs to get on her computer. “So you don’t know which kind of sports car they got you yet?”

She laughs again as she hops up to her feet and starts the trek back to her room. “Oh please. They’re not going to get me a car. That’d be too much freedom. They couldn’t threaten not to let the chauffeur drive me to work anymore.” She rolls her eyes.

“They have to get you a car. It’s the whole sweet 16 package: Big fancy party with your big fancy dress, a bunch of bratty rich girls you can’t stand, and some luxury vehicle that costs more than my house. If they don’t get you a car, they don’t sell it.”

“Oh shut up,” she laughs, bedroom door swinging shut behind her. She glances at her bed for a second, but if she lays down, she’s not going to get up again, and as nice as the idea of falling asleep talking to Dipper sounds, there’s still the rest of the party to get through. As she sinks into her desk chair, she sighs and says, “Did you do anything for the holiday?”

“Oh, you mean Just Some Friday Day? Yeah, we got Chinese food and watched cheesy romcoms. I guess it’s sort of a stereotype, but I think that’s kind of why we do it in the first place? It’s hard to explain.”

“Just Some Friday Day, huh? Wow, so I mean nothing to you.” He practically cackles on the other end, and she grins.

“Right, how could I forget the most important holiday, Pacifica Northwest’s Birthday? That’s why all the banks were closed.”

“Damn straight. What would they even need to be open for? All of the people with money are in my living room.” Another laugh. She sinks back in the chair, pressing the power button on her desktop with her toes as she asks, “Can I call you on DistantChat?”

“Is that such a good idea with your parents still prowling around downstairs?” He asks, with a legitimate tinge of worry to his voice. “I mean, you know I always like seeing you, but I don’t wanna get you in trouble or anything.”

“Oh come on. It’s my birthday, they can’t yell at me for calling a friend. Plus, there’s too many people still here for them to yell at me.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, and then, “...Okay. Let me get my laptop.”

It takes a minute for him to get everything set up, and they stay on the phone while he does even though it’s mostly Dipper mumbling to himself and the rustling of pieces of paper on his desk. When he calls her, he’s in bed, and he’s not wearing that stupid hat for once, so she can see peeks of his birthmark through his fringe.

“You need a haircut,” is the first thing that comes out of her mouth, without any input from her on the matter, and he laughs.

“You sound like Grunkle Stan. That was the first thing he said when we picked him and Great Uncle Ford up at the docks for Channukah. Kid, you need a haircut.” His impression of his uncle is terrible, and it makes her laugh, throwing her head back and her hand over her mouth.

When she’s done, his cheeks are a little flushed, but she can’t really call him out on it because her cheeks are a little flushed, too, so they sit in silence for a minute. “I like the dress,” he says eventually.

The camera quality of the call isn’t great. In the video, the delicate white lace that makes it look as though there are flowers painted directly onto her chest and shoulders just look like blurry polka dots (where they’re even visible), and the lace stops being visible completely at the sweetheart neckline of the bodice portion of the dress. Not only that, but from the angle of the camera, the silky lavender band around her waist isn’t even visible, nor is the princess-style skirt that fluffs out down her body in an A-line that could give Princess Diana’s wedding dress a run for its money if it wasn’t only tea length. But, more importantly…

“Ugh, this? My mom picked it.”

“Well, as much as I hate to admit it, your mom was right. It looks really good on you,” he says, and she sees his cheeks flush a little darker. Again, not that she can say anything.

“...Thanks.” She still doesn’t love the dress, still wishes Mom had let her buy the hot pink one that was half the price, but it’s nice that Dipper likes it. She wants him to like her clothes.

They return to silence, and she thinks of all the things she’d like to say. She wants to joke that he should see how much better it’d look off of her. She wants to ask him what he got her for her birthday just to see his little panicked reaction. She wants to ask him if she can run away to his house in Piedmont and never come back.

Instead, she just watches his face. He always looks so tired these days, and she wonders if he ever sleeps at all if she’s not on the phone with him. She knows that sometimes he doesn’t get to sleep even when she is on the phone with him. Sometimes she wakes up and the time is still ticking on the call and he seems startled when she mumbles good morning.

“Pacifica!” Mom’s voice calls up the stairs, and she almost jumps out of her skin. “It’s time for the cake and the presents, dear,” she says, and the pet name makes her wrinkle her nose.

“I have to go,” she says. She’d rather do anything in the world than hang up, and she thinks it shows, because Dipper looks more than a little guilty.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to just sit here staring at you,” he says, and if she didn’t have to go she’d probably tease him for it. “Let me know what kind of car you get. I bet it’ll be an Edison. Your dad is just like that guy.”

She laughs. “Can I call you again later? Like, for bed or… something?” She asks, speaking quickly so he can’t hear the desperation in her voice.

“Of course,” he says without even a second of hesitation, and it makes her chest squeeze with fondness.

She ends the call without saying goodbye. She usually does. She hates saying goodbye, and it’s not like she won’t talk to him later, anyway. Still, she lingers at her desk for an extra second after the call is over like she’s waiting for him to call her back and scold her for it or something. She knows that he won’t. Even though they joke a lot about how terrible she used to be, Dipper rarely takes it upon himself to correct her for her social missteps, not unless she directly hurts him or Mabel by it.

Her eyes slide down to her desk drawer, and with a paranoid glance at her door, she pulls it open.

Emancipation papers.

Printing them out had marked her very first use of the Gravity Falls Library, a service her parents believed was for poor people. Once they’re filed, she guesses that’ll be her. It’d be nice if they bought me a car before I was out of here.

“Pacifica! What are you doing up there? You’re keeping everyone waiting.”

She shoves the drawer closed and trudges back downstairs.

They don’t get her a car. Giving her that much control over her own life would be against the rules, wouldn’t it? But when she calls Dipper later that night, he assures her that she’s welcome to use his car whenever she wants once she gets out of there, and she knows that he means it.

[1ce11u1a]

Alpaca  Shop & Weaving Studio

 Alpaca Loom Coffee Shop & Weaving Studio

Alpaca  Shop & Weaving Studio

Stop by the farm and enjoy the pastoral island views dotted with alpacas grazing. Longueuil, QC, Canada 4 4 cats to cuddle in Montreal 3 hours ago · Whatever Irving’s other shortcomings, playing offense is not among them. AAWW Grace & Joy Alpacas We Grow Hearts and Minds www. Located just 15 miles west of Downtown Brenham and 55 miles northwest of Houston, Peeka Ranch is 60 acres of hay meadows, oak trees and 100 alpacas. Commercial Brake & Clutch … Offering Alpaca farm tours, selling alpaca made products, Alpaca livestock sales and more. Enjoy alpacas, learn about alpacas, and shop for alpaca products. 55 per adult Viator Exclusive Tour - Mt. We also offer llama therapy visit opportunities. A … Our alpacas have access to fertile pasture, orchard grass hay, and chow (grain) as well as natural well water that has been tested to confirm its quality. “The people that are getting into it have a friend or a neighbor who is into alpacas,” Mirro said.

Faux-fur blankets work well in many spaces, and make especially great picks in the colder fall and winter months. According to Alessandra Wood, director of style at Modsy, “They’re luxurious and a great way to stay warm in the cold months while adding a ‘winter wonderland’ feel to a space.” They’re also more affordable (and less ethically complicated) than blankets made from actual fur, but often just as cozy (and cozy-looking) as the real deal. “They add instant warmth and elegance to any space,” says Decorist creative director Jessica McCarthy. For a comfy pick at a relatively approachable price point, few styles beat this extra-large throw from CB2. As Lydecker says, “size is super important. Remember to stay within the range of 50 to 70 inches, so it’s large enough to snuggle up in.” This throw blanket’s gray shade should work with most rooms’ décor schemes, and its rich, textured layers make it look much more expensive than it actually is.

Overnight and express domestic shipping is an extra charge. Ground shipping to American Samoa, Guam, Puerto Rico, and the US Virgin Islands is calculated by USPS. 3. Nordstrom features a ton of options, ranging from crisp white sheet sets to super cute decorative pillows. Your bed truly never looked so good. What they have: All your bedding basics, but a ton of adorable decorative pillows and duvet covers. Shipping: Free shipping for almost anything on the site to anywhere in the United States-even Alaska, Hawaii, and Puerto Rico. 4. Target has everything to help you fully style your bed. It even has babies' and kids' bedding if you've got some little ones! What they have: Something for all ages! Teen bedding, comforters, pillows, and bedding sets. Shipping: Free ground shipping on orders over $35 or orders placed with a REDcard. Orders worth $35 and under are charged a flat shipping fee of $5.99.

For a portable propane tank for a gas barbecue grill, for example, you could shop at dozens of retailers; for a 100-pound propane tank for a welding project, Tractor Supply is the more likely go-to. Much like specialty pet retailers, Tractor Supply is getting a tailwind from the pandemic surge in pet adoption. Overall, animal feed and agricultural products like fencing and fertilizer generate about half its net sales. Those staples are central to getting people into stores, where they might round out a shopping trip with a puppy chew toy or a baseball cap from the Kevin Costner TV ranch drama Yellowstone. “We want to get people in with their essentials, and then we can get the rest of the basket,” says chief merchant Seth Estep. That approach helps explain why Tractor Supply has managed to increase sales during each of the last three downturns, including the pandemic mini-crash: People feed their alpacas at the alpaca shop, and their livestock, through thick or thin.

[axlaru]

New game plan:

Use one more skein that's the same yarn but in a color I hadn't planned to use bc it doesn't quite go well (embracing chaos)

Use a to be determined number of skeins of a different brand of yarn that's similar enough in weight and composition that I have a shit ton of different colors in. Really I should have made the blanket with this shit in the first place, but the yarn I chose has a slight softer feel, hence my choice. But we're getting both, baby.

If I wanted to be cruel to myself I could also throw in a similarly weighted alpaca yarn that I have. Just make this thing a textural nightmare and impossible to wash.

Moral of the story: I am a chaotic knitter.

I'm such a doofus

With the current amount of yarn I have the blanket I'm making right now is gonna be like 42×20

Like i knew it would be small but like that proportion is ridiculous. I think I'll go get 2 more colors to add.

[starfleet-jelly]

Some Vulcan Headcanons

They have like no base in canon just things I thought about Vulcans most of them don’t have evidence either. Most of my Vulcan fanfics will probably be based off these headcanons, I’ll be adding and editing this post whenever I feel differently or think of new things~ 💕

* Vulcans can outrun humans with speed, however humans can outrun Vulcans by distance.

* Vulcans are better climbers

* Vulcans have death grips. Once they have you, it’s gonna be difficult to get away.

* They have slightly longer fingers, better for climbing!

* Vulcans can’t jump as high as a human can, however, it isn’t by much, a couple inches at most.

* Vulcans eat a lot more than they are shown. Even though they have slow metabolisms they have dense muscles that need lots of protein, luckily there are lots of high protein grains and vegetables on Vulcan.

* Ancient Vulcans were cave dwellers. The caves provided protections of predators and kept them cooler in the extreme heat of Vulcan.

* Due to the fact that the seas are small and in few numbers on Vulcan, most Vulcans cannot swim, however, in coastal towns, more of them have the knowledge on how to swim, but it seems most Vulcans still prefer to not to go for a dip. There is always the odd duck who loves to swim though.

* Before sonic showers, Vulcan use small bucks of water with a rag, or more commonly sand to bathe with

* Because of their muscles and flexibility, Vulcans don’t take a lot of fall damage, even a Vulcan child could fall from the a height that would easily kill a human and walk away with minor injuries

* Vulcan have very strong leg bones and muscles because of the slightly higher gravity than Earth

* Vulcans in the north prefer spicier food while people in the south prefer food with little, if any, spice. Humans to try the food are often stuck with something that seems boring to them, or just downright painful from the spice

* Because of their telepathic abilities, Vulcan babies need a lot of skin contact in their first few months after birth. It is not uncommon for a Vulcan mother or father to carry their infant child to their bare chest, even in public, usually tucked into their robes

* Because Vulcans are touch telepaths children get a sense of calm from their parents when they are in contact but also form familiar bonds, lack of touch can lead to malformation and damage to new neural networks in the infants brain

* Vulcan toddlers are volatile, they have yet to master their emotions and tend to throw fits over many things. Skin contact, such as hugging, holding and cuddling, from their parents usually calms them down. It’s common for children from ages 0-5 to sleep in their parent’s bed as they need near constant contact. During this time Vulcan parents begin to tech meditative practices such as hymns and monturas. As Vulcan children grow older, parents will begin to slowly step away from skin contact in exchange for led meditations

* On Vulcan, it is common practice for one of the parents to stay home and raise the child or children, however, if one of the parent die, close family such as grandparents or aunts and uncles will also help take care of the child or children.

* Young Vulcan children (5-12) do not completely suppress their emotions, they do however learn not to express them. Bullying, fighting, and rebellious behavior is not uncommon for this age group.

* For older Vulcan children (between 13-25) who have difficulty controlling their emotions, even with led meditations, the child is usually sent to a monastery for education.

* Vulcans aren’t fully mature until after the age of 30.

* Vulcans usually don’t experience Pon Farr until after the age of 30, usually between 30-35, but there has been some outliers. Some Vulcans can go through Pon Farr as early as 26 and as old as 40, but this is uncommon and usually means there is a health problem.

* Both male and female Vulcans go through Pon Farr.

* I don’t care what anyone tells me, Vulcans do and will have sex outside of Pon Farr.

* Vulcan ear shape is hereditary. The more curved ears you see on Spock, Sarek, Taurik are less common than the flat ears you see on T’Pol and Tuvok

* Vulcans with light colored eyes tend to have bad vision and worsens with age. They tend to spend more time inside because the sun can be unbearable at times. But Vulcans with light colored eyes can see in the dark better than Vulcans with dark colored eyes. Light colored eyes was a mutation that only accrued after urbanization of Vulcan.

* Vulcans are cold to the touch, like someone who has been outside without a coat in winter. Because they’re naturally cooler Vulcans don’t need to sweat to keep cool. If ancient Vulcans got too hot they could move into caves to cool down.

* Young Vulcans (under the age of 10) and old Vulcans (over the age of 130) have a difficult time keeping warm. On modern Vulcan it is fixed with indoor heating and cooling.

* Vulcan has many hot springs, most of which are underground, and are popular. However most tourists, such a humans, cannot use them as most are too hot.

* Vulcans have two different types of robes. Robes they wear during the day that keep them cool, and robes for night to keep them warm.

* The silk that Vulcans robes are made of are actually from a plant. The plant produces a silk like substance that is sticky to prevent animals from eating it. It’s very strong and ancient Vulcans scrapped the silk from the plants and ate them. Modern day Vulcans grow these plants near the seas in the north and far south near the pole.

* Other Vulcan clothing is made from wool from an animal that is similar to sheep and alpaca. Their wool is usually use to make evening wear. The wool also used in the making of blankets, pillows, and rugs

* The soles of Vulcans shoes are usually made from a hard woody root, which were better for walking on rock. Vulcan shoes can also be made from a type grass that is common on Vulcan, which are better for walking in sand. Shoes for military are made from rubber.

* The reason why Vulcans in tos have all kind of different hair styles is because at that time period Vulcan youth wanted to rebel against common standers, it’s also why T’Pring did not wear a traditional Vulcan wedding dress.

* It’s common for Vulcan women to cover their hair, whether it be long or short. Not only does it keep their hair clean from sand but it also protects their head from the sun.

* There is actually a wide variety of fashion on Vulcan, differing types of robes, dresses, and suits. Most common colors are usually neutrals but silvers, blues, purples, and greens are common in the south while golds, reds, oranges, and yellows are more common in the north.

* The common Vulcan bowlcut, humans call it, is more common in the government and military of Vulcan. The short hair is easy to maintain and keep care of. Many Vulcan citizens has varying hairstyles and most depend on what region they live in. It is not uncommon for Vulcan men and women to have long hair, especially if they do not work in manual labor.

* Most Vulcan men shave their faces. There are many reasons for it, such as, it’s cleaner, easier to maintain, keeps them cooler, and it looks more professional.

* When it comes to body hair, it is 50/50 on who shaves. The area around the reproductive organs are usually maintained but not shaved, as for legs, arms, and under arms, some areas it is more common to save than others. Young Vulcan men usually shave their chest, but as they get older is more uncommon.

* Vulcan women have on occasion worn makeup. Buying makeup on Vulcan is uncommon, many women on Vulcan grow plants that can be use for make up such as flowers that can be ground for lipstick or a crushed leaf for rouge. These plants usually have other uses such as medical or as food.

* Sehlats are not the only pets Vulcans keep. They also keep small rodents and occasionally a ferret like animal too.

* Vulcan pet names are usually old Vulcan names no one uses anymore or names of monsters or animals from ancient Vulcan literature.

* Sehlats aren’t fed meat, but instead high protein grain and vegetables and eggs. Sehlats are naturally omnivores but the need for meat was bred out of thousands of years.

[letarasstuff]

Too itchy, too loud, too bright

(A/N): This was not requested but I had to get this one off my chest, it started to bug me in my sleep (like Hamilton did to LMM).

Summary: How fast is Spencer able to connect the dots when his daughter complaints about the feeling, loudness and brightness of everything?

Warnings: Descriptions of sensory overload (I described like I feel when I get them and what the internet gave me)

Wordcounts: 1.1k

✨Masterlist✨ ________________________________

When Spencer starts his day, he never expects it to have this outcome. He wakes up his daughter, like every time he does when he is at home and not away on a case. Breakfast, brushing her teeth and doing her hair goes also uneventful. The young doctor likes to get her ready in the bathroom before dressing the girl in order to avoid toothpaste stains. The first mishap happens when the father wants to dress her.

“No Daddy”, (Y/N) screams and throws the shirt he put on her away.

“But Baby”, he tries to console her, “You need to wear a shirt. Or something else. What about the fluffy hoodie with the TARDIS on it?” Spencer hopes she agrees to that, because if not his options are running out.

Luckily for him she nods and lets him change her into the aforementioned clothing article. This is until she begins to whine again. “Daddy, it ITCHY!”

Patiently he asks: “Where does it itch? Is it the sweater or is there something inside that itches.” (Y/N) points to where the label inside the hoodie is. Spender sighs in relief. Finally he is getting somewhere, he thinks while cutting the label off. The father makes a mental note to do the same with all of her shirts.

Because of the whole clothing debacle the small family is running late, which results in them power walking to the train station. “Daddy, loud!” The girl stops and looks up to him. Given their small time window Reid just picks her up and starts walking faster. “Sweetheart, I know the streets are loud, but they are every morning. It will be quieter on the train.”

It seems like anything he does just upsets her further. “NO DADDY! YOU NOT UNDERSTAND” After her outburst, (Y/N) puts her head into her father’s shoulder and her hands over her ears. Only now Spencer connects the dots. The sudden realization makes him mad at himself, he deals with the human psyche on a daily level, but can’t see the symptoms in his own daughter?

“Oh Baby, I think I do now. Let’s get home, where it’s quiet, alright?” While screwing her eyes shut and clamping her little hands over her ears, she nods. As they find their way back with him carrying (Y/N), Reid shoots a quick text to Hotch saying he can’t come in today, because his child isn’t feeling well.

After he shuts the door quietly, he sees an answer from the Unit Chief telling him he hopes that she gets better soon. Spencer nods to himself at that, sure that Hotch thinks something different is wrong than what the case is.

“Ok Sweetheart, what about I shut the blinds on your window and change you out of your hoodie and leggings? Then I’ll wrap you into a little burrito with the soft blanket you got from Auntie Emily and I can read to you while you try to take a nap. You can even wear Daddy’s eye mask, if you want.” Worn down by even the short amount of time she was awake the little girl nods tiredly. “Yes please”, she says in a small voice.

Just like he said, Spencer dims all the light sources in her room, undresses her except for her underwear to reduce any kind of irritating material and swaddles her with the rather heavy blanket in order to make her feel warm and secure.

While reading a cute book named “Rumple Buttercup” by a guy that looks oddly familiar to him (gifted by Garcia for exact that reason), (Y/N) dozes off fairly quickly to Spencer’s relief. He takes a hamper he left next to her closet and takes all of her clothes out laying them in it.

While cutting off all the labels in them as he watches old reruns of Doctor Who on a low volume, a phone ringing startles him. “Dr. Spencer Reid”, the young agent answers it without looking at the caller ID.

“Woah, since when are we this formal? Do you want me to introduce myself with Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan or is Derek fine with Mr Three-PhDs?” Though Spencer knows his friend is just joking, it kind of ticks him off.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you, but next time I’ll make sure to take your call with ‘Yo, what’s up man’.” “Wait, what got your panties in a twist, Reid? I just wanted to check up on you. Hotch said (Y/N) doesn’t feel good and I wanted to know if I can swing by on my lunch break?”

Spencer now feels bad for snapping at him. “Morgan I’m sorry. It’s just- yeah. When you get here, can you get milkshakes? I’ll prepare lunch, if you are fine with dinosaur shaped nuggets and french fries.” With a laugh the older one takes the order and confirms the menu.

Not long after this Reid opens the door, he texted Derek to tell him when he gets there to avoid ringing the bell.

“Uncle DEREK!” An excited toddler greets him by the door, a blanket around her neck like a cape. “Woah, hey there my little hero”, he picks her up while getting into the apartment, “You feeling better?”

With a solemn face she nods. “I felt really overwhelmed, everything suddenly got really itchy and was loud and sunny. But Daddy helped me, he read to me and let me wear his cute eyes mask. I looked like an alpaca. Oh, Daddy said you got a surprise?”

After a sweet lunch with a very energetic (Y/N), who is afterwards sent to play in her room, Morgan sits with Spencer down. “You do know, what happened, do you?”

“I-I do. (Y/N) got a sensory overload and I tried to guide her through to the best of my abilities. I think it was mainly sparked by the reasons that she slept bad for a few nights in a row and my mom is not doing good right now and (Y/N) always kind of feels it when something is off. I also assume that the labels on her clothes ends the whole ordeal off. But I know how to prevent them and what to do when she has one. You don’t need to worry”, the father rambles.

After making sure that both of them are fine, Derek plays for a bit with his favorite (and only as of right now) niece before going back to the BAU. The rest of the day for the Reid family is filled with watching several Disney movies, reading books together and color some in. In other words: A day off in the Reid household.

Taglist: 

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid:

@calm-and-doctor

x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[ghcstfm]

As if it isn’t already known that I’m the GREATEST friend in history of friends?? I’m throwing Jackie a surprise baby shower, surprise! SATURDAY 1st OCTOBER, ind your way to the town rec center, Celebrate the impending doom that is CHILD BIRTH, bring GIFTS. also accepting gifts for the spawn of satan. and for the most exciting part???

DRUM ROLL please! You’re all invited. upset and disappointed but the lack of whimsy in the invitation?? APPARENTLY storks were unavailable for purchase?? a mishap with the chickens getting loose, and not following institutions?? like ur whole job is to lay eggs?? CAN YOU NOT RELATE?? Pigeons were an option?? but they way a singular bird looked at me?? I was scared what an entire flock would do, so I called the whole thing off. 

what’s so fun about GIVING up your Saturday for a baby shower??? a fucking petting zoo, chickens, alpacas, pigs, unlimited donkey rides, fun games like sperm splatter, that one game where you eat chocolate out of a diaper, YOU NAME IT, I got it. even got prizes for the winners, and I’ve been told gifting me isn’t an acceptable prize, so prepared to be disappointed with a crappy medal, real gold tho, didn’t cheap out on this shit. 

food trucks, hotdogs, corndogs, pigs in blankets, cream pies, meatballs, alcoholic beverages cocktails of the evening?? afterbirth. and seed of chucky. 

PS. dress code, come as you favourite childhood story book character. example, I’m the hunky woodsman from red riding hood. 

[nugnthopkns]

take the sadness out of saturday night

word count: 2.8k 

warnings: insinuated fem!reader, a couple of curse words, alcohol consumption, vaguely described feelings of inadequacy 

recommended listening: chinatown | bleachers featuring bruce springsteen

a/n: will i ever write anything more than 3k? probs not. also this baby is completely self indulgent but i don’t even care

All you want to do is sleep. Or drink an entire bottle of wine. Maybe both. 

Graduate school is a lot harder than you expected it to be. You obviously weren’t naïve enough to think it be as easy as your undergrad, but you didn’t think it would be like this. It’s competitive; with people doing whatever it takes to get ahead. You’ve almost had your thesis topic stolen twice. The workload is also incredibly different. Gone are the days of small tests and assignments: everything relies on your thesis paper being of the utmost quality. You feel like you’re drowning in the middle of the ocean.

Today was the worst in a succession of terrible days. On the way to campus you dropped your coffee but didn’t have enough time to get another one. The conditions didn’t get any better once you reached school. Your lunch got left behind on the kitchen island and your advisor didn’t show up for your meeting, putting you another two weeks behind schedule. To top it off, you left campus later than usual and caught in the horrendous Philadelphia traffic. By the time you reach your apartment complex you’re thoroughly exhausted and two seconds away from crying. 

How you can afford your current lodging is beyond you. Tuition is waived by the university, which certainly helps, but you’re mostly relying on loans. It will be a bitch to pay off in a few years, but you don’t have any other option. The building isn’t ridiculously flashy, with semi-outdated furnishing, but it’s in a central location that anyone in Philly would kill for. Every day you wake up grateful there isn’t an eviction notice on your door; though you’re very careful to pay rent on time. Only the small lamp in the entryway is on when you unlock the door, but you keep it that way. Kicking off your sneakers and haphazardly hanging up your jacket, you shuffle into the bedroom portion of the studio. The pyjamas tucked under the pillow are calling your name, and it feels so good to free yourself of business casual clothing. 

The next stop on your mad-dash around in order to plant yourself on the couch as quickly as possible is the bathroom. You scrub your face vigorously, knowing you’ll pay for it in a few days when a breakout appears, but you can’t find it within you to care. It feels so good to be clean and in control of a situation. The kitchen is where you meander to next, filling the largest glass you can find with rosé. A bag of candy is grabbed as well, and then you’re tucking yourself into the corner of the couch and piling on the blankets. You open Netflix and briefly debate what to watch before deciding on something you’ve seen a million times before that won’t require your full attention.

Half an hour into the film you get hungry, but with no ambition to cook for yourself. Take out it is. You place an order at your favourite sushi joint and lazily return your gaze to the T.V. The scene on the screen no longer appeals to you, so you dig around the cushions to find your phone. It’s been a while since you’ve called your mom and you know she’s been missing you; truth be told you miss her a resounding amount. Philadelphia is a long ways from home and you can’t afford to travel often. Not being near your pillar of support is definitely wearing on you. She picks up on the fifth ring. 

“Hello?”

A tear slips out at the sound of her voice. Yours catches in your throat slightly, and your response is garbled. “Mom,” it breaks at the end, and the tears quickly turn into a waterfall. 

“Oh honey,” she sighs, chest filling with pain at your apparent despair. “What’s the matter?”

You sob for a minute or two before it subsides enough for you to actually speak. Through hiccups and sniffles you detail your horrible week, and the one before that for good measure. Your mom stays silent, listening with intent, and the one sided conversation eventually turns into you fretting about how you feel inadequate in your academic community and how you can’t picture a future. Only once you’ve ran out of words does she speak, negating the argument put in place by your imposter syndrome and doing her best to inflate your ego. 

“You’ve earned your seat at the table Y/N,” she says with conviction. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you deserve to be there. You’re cut out for this; no one is more passionate about their work than you.”

Another hiccup slips past your lips as you respond. “Thanks Mom.”

You don’t have to see her to know she’s sporting a smile. “We’re so proud of you honey, and always will be. No matter what you decide to do. Hell, you could move to Peru to become an alpaca farmer and your dad and I would be the happiest parents on Earth.”

The comment is meant to make you laugh, citing the time you called her during your undergrad to inform her you were dropping out and moving to the Andes. It works. You can’t help it, and have to admit it feels good after days of negative feelings. She distracts you further, recounting a story about your youngest brother’s recent baseball game that ended with a trip to the hospital after an unfortunate sliding incident. You wince at the mention of the basemen’s cleat colliding with his ankle, and chuckle when she talks about Connor singing showtunes in the recovery room. The story swapping continues, and it brings comfort. If you close your eyes you can envision yourself sitting on your mom’s bed, hiding your face in a pillow when anything embarrassing happens. 

A knock at your door ends your conversation, and the sadness slowly trickles back into your bones. “Mom, I’ve gotta go. The delivery person is here.”

“Okay sweetie. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Having lost track of time, you’re wildly unprepared to pay for your food. “One minute,” you yell in the direction of the front door, praying the person on the other side heard you. You root around your wallet for the appropriate amount of cash before sliding across the floor and unlocking the door handle. The person standing there is not in fact a food delivery service worker, but your neighbour from across the hall, holding what you presume to be your dinner. 

“Nolan?” 

To say you’re shocked is an understatement. Though you’d go as far to say the two of you are casual acquaintances, he’s never shown up unannounced on your doorstep. Most of your interactions take place in the elevator or hallway, and you’ve only been inside his apartment once when you left your keys in your advisor’s office. Being a professional hockey player means he typically isn’t around a lot, but you had learned from a friend he’s spending the season sidelined by an injury. He still hasn’t been around a lot from what you could tell. 

His low rumble catches you off guard for a millisecond but it doesn’t take long to adjust. “They, uh, sent it to the wrong door,” he mumbles, holding out the bag to illustrate his point. 

“Fuck,” you swear. “Sorry. How much do I owe you?” A ballpark figure is in your brain, but you aren’t above throwing in a few extra dollars for the inconvenience. No one wants to receive their neighbour’s food. 

Nolan shakes his head profusely and shoves his hands in his pockets when you try to slip the money into them. “It’s on the house,” he shrugs. “Think of it as an apology for being a shit neighbour these past couple of months.”

“You’re a great neighbour Nolan. I have no complaints.” He returns your smile but doesn’t speak. An awkward tension fills the air between you, almost as if each of you is waiting for the other to talk. 

“Well I’ll let you –”

“Would you like some company?”

The question stops you dead in your tracks. A look of bewilderment must appear on your face because Nolan starts blabbering. “It’s just that you looked upset when you came to the door, like you’ve been crying. I can also see the nearly empty bottle of wine on the counter and that’s never a good sign.” He pauses for a second to take a breath before blurting out a final sentence. “And there’s a game tonight and if I don’t distract myself from it I think I might die.” Ragged breathing punctuates the sudden stoppage, and when you look up to meet his eyes you feel a sense of desperation. 

Without saying anything you open the door wider and retreat into the unit, hoping he gets the hint. It takes him all of two seconds to follow you, quickly darting across the hall to lock his door. You’re at the fridge when he returns, and turn around to ask him what he’d like to drink. 

“It seems like an alcohol kind of night,” you chuckle. “What are you having?”

He looks at you sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. “Could I have a glass of that rosé?” 

You nod and gesture for him to pass you the bottle. “Never pegged you as a wine drinker,” you comment as you fill his cup. 

“Travis teases me relentlessly so I don’t keep it at the house anymore. Can only drink it in private.”

At the mention of his teammate’s name you understand. It’s exhausting to fit into someone’s mould of you. “Your secret is safe with me.”

The two of you migrate to the couch and once again become shrouded in silence. It’s comfortable this time, as you nurse your glasses and watch the skyline. Just having someone by your side is enough to quell the upset you’ve felt all day. You wonder why you hadn’t sought Nolan out sooner. It seems he’s been in a similar situation; having terrible days and feeling alone. Conversation only comes once he realizes both your drinks are empty. Nolan opens the fridge to find one more bottle of wine; a cheap, fruity one that’s meant to taste like a cooler. It’s strawberry flavoured, which equal parts thrills and disgusts him. He’s thrown back to his first high school party, when this was the only alcohol he could get his friends’ older sisters to buy him.

“I feel like I’m sixteen again,” he laughs, not bothering to fill his glass. Instead, he swigs from the bottle before reaching over the back of the couch and placing in your lap. You follow his lead, drinking directly from the vessel.

“Don’t judge me,” you huff. “I like the way it tastes.”

Nolan gazes sideways at you before dropping his voice to a near whisper. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

In a streak of boldness that came from god knows where, you place a hand on top of his. He doesn’t retract but doesn’t push forward either. You’re too scared to do anything else, and soon retract your hand and place it in your lap. “So,” you cough. “You need a distraction?”

☀☀☀☀

One comedy special turned into three, and it’s safe to say both you and Nolan are feeling exponentially better than when he knocked on your door. The alcohol flowed until you ran out, but neither of you are drunk. Perhaps tipsy; most definitely content. It’s so nice to enjoy someone’s company without the pressure of maintaining a perfect appearance. Nolan must feel it too, because he slowly begins to open up, talking about his career and ambitions for a life after hockey. You sit quietly, much like your mother had done hours before, as he describes his frustration with the migraines and how he yearns to bond with his teammates.

“I’m just so scared this is it, that I’m done,” he hiccups. 

You tentatively shuffle closer to him, looking for signs that he’s uncomfortable. Once you’re squished beside him, shoulder to shoulder, you take yet another page from your mother’s book. “If tonight is a good indicator of who you are, then you, Nolan Patrick, are going to be just fine. Seems to me that this is nothing but a bump in the road. You’re destined for greatness.”

He smiles, possibly the first completely real one he’s given you all night, and it reaches his eyes. “You really think that?”

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t believe it to be true. You see, in my line of work, truth is of the utmost importance.”

At Nolan’s incessant prodding you talk about school, your thesis, and what you hope to achieve. It doesn’t sting the way you thought it would, possibly because you’re speaking to someone who’s completely enamored with the topic. Academia clearly fascinates Nolan, though he makes it clear he has no interest in joining the community. The only way you can describe the feeling of explaining everything to him is refreshing; he asks insightful questions about your research and isn’t bogged down by the technicalities like so many of your fellow scholars. When you’ve exhausted all you can say and Nolan’s ‘poked’ holes in all of your theories, he gets a serious look and turns so your body is framed by his. 

In this position there’s no denying how attractive he is. Of course you’ve always found him easy to look at when you passed in the halls, but knowing him as intimately as you now do makes you realize how much you like him. “Come to a game with me?” he asks. 

Your rhythm is once again thrown off by the man in front of you. “A game?”

Nolan nods enthusiastically. “A game. I’ve been meaning to go to one for a while, but I can’t find the courage to go alone. The next home game is on Tuesday, but we can obviously go to another one when it fits your schedule. If you want to come, that is.”

He’s yet to be this excited about hockey all night, and who are you to deny your newfound friend something he wants so badly? “Tuesday’s perfect Nolan.” He pumps his fist in happiness and you giggle at his antics. 

“I’m so happy I could kiss you.” It slips out before he realizes, and the shock on his face lets you know it was an accident. 

“You can if you want.”

You’re surprised at your own boldness, but don’t have much time to read into what the statement could mean because Nolan’s leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The moment his lips touch yours it feels like a homecoming. He’s gentle but firm, letting you know he doesn’t want this to be a one time thing without saying anything at all. Nolan brings to you a sort of warmth that settles in your chest that makes you truly content with how life is going. You lose yourself in him, letting your heart steer the ship. He never waivers from you, only pulling back slightly to card his fingers through your hair. They settle at the nape of your neck and make shivers tingle your spine. You’re impossibly close, but you wish it would never end. After what feels like a millennia you break apart, chests heaving slightly from the lack of oxygen. 

You can’t find the words, but you know you never want to be without Nolan again. All the anguish you experienced earlier feels light years away after a few short hours of truly knowing him. It seems that he’s on the same page, because Nolan makes no effort to remove himself from the situation. In fact, he seems perfect content to never move again: arm comfortably around your shoulder as he places a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

“So is Tuesday a date now?” You squeak, voice small. You’re worried you’ve ruined the moment, but he cuts off your overthinking with a squeeze your bicep. 

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” he replies, and you know he means it. 

You can’t help yourself and slot your lips against his once again. “I’d like that a lot. There’s one condition though: I want to meet Gritty.”

Nolan’s laugh echoes off the walls and sounds like the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard. “Think I can manage to pencil you in to the schedule. It has a soft spot for me.”

As he reaches for the remote to put on highlights of the game that’s well over, you shuffle to rest your head comfortably in his lap. Your fingers find his and lazily combine. Nolan mumbles something you don’t quite catch, something about a play Travis made, but you hum in agreement anyways. He’s most likely right. Your eyes begin to droop, and as you fall asleep you forget why you were even sad in the first place. 

☀☀☀☀

taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

[graciebaberams]

Here's the Plymouth Baby Alpaca Grande, it's 19.99, but it's super bulky, so it would probably only take like 5 of them to make a full blanket, so I'm assuming you'd probably want like $150-$200 for the blanket (since the raw materials here would be like $100)?

Malabrigo Rasta would be good too.

As would The Fibre Company Tundra (but that's more expensive).

So I have calculated how much yarn I’d need, and it would be $140 worth of yarn alone so I would charge $290 for a throw size. What goes into cost is how many hours I work on the blanket, plus yarn, packaging, and shipping. So in short, yes I can make you a blanket out of that specific yarn, it will just be considerably more expensive. But if you want me to make you a blanket still, I would be happy to do so! DM me and we can discuss details!

[cashmerebabyblanketnews]

What Is Better: Cashmere Baby Blanket Or Plaid?

Regardless of the way you want to look and feel this winter, we’ve chosen 19 of our favorite winter coats that can help you tough it by way of the worst of it. I would think about that it’s each comforting and tough to have older children around when experiencing a miscarriage more information here. My pal despatched me this e-book in the days after my miscarriage and it was extraordinarily comforting. I appreciated that the e-book wasn’t about miscarriage or stillbirth or being pregnant, however it nonetheless touched on lots of the issues that I was feeling and helped me really feel a sense of solace.

Swoon Worthy Kiwi The Cat Cashmere Baby Blanket

It doesn’t seem like it’s going to depart anytime quickly. Then suddenly somebody got the intense thought to create the “teddy coat”, which you can see pictured under. This one definitely takes a unique strategy to the teddy coat by masking the complete thing in a scenic pattern. If you’re in a metropolis the place your lift move gets used greater than Lyft app, this winter coat from Patagonia will be your greatest pal. Made from 90% recycled materials, this sturdy and gentle coat supplies loads of waterproofing do you've got to take a spill on the slopes.

If wearing socks to bed is not for you, many of the same advantages could be achieved with a warm foot bath earlier than you fall asleep or placing a cashmere baby blanket over the bottom of the bed. In addition, experts suggest preserving your bed room temperature between 60 and 67 degrees. Sock sporting can also lower your risk of Raynaud’s llness, which causes some areas of your physique, similar to fingers and toes, to feel numb or chilly. When paired with making use of moisturizer, it may possibly additionally assist cut back dry feet and cracked heels. Antica Farmacista is a luxury residence fragrance brand offering distinctive blended scents and a complicated aesthetic. Indulge in the sublimely delicate and supple Giza 45 Percale, our most revered percale bedding collection.

Premium Child Alpaca Throw Blanket

Receive $20 off your next purchase if you sign up to obtain exclusive presents and promotions. Our Creswick Mill retailer is open 7 days a week, 10am – 4pm with new security measures in place. Lightness, power and the allure of the weather air, water, earth and fireplace categorical the stories of the 2021 collection, inspiring rarefied atmospheres that are tranquil or stuffed with mystery. Click here to study more concerning the true risks of purchasing for faux products and how one can shop smarter to keep your beloved ones protected.

The perfect Cashmere and Wool Blend child blanket in basic Mini Cable Knit design. Cashmere Baby Blanket is large enough for the infants to be all wrapped up heat and comfortable. Our Cashmere is sourced from Inner Mongolia, China and all of the design work is proudly done in USA. Knit from pure Cashmere, our Baby Blanket is the right reward . Adds a soft contact of luxurious to nurseries, strollers or even car seats.

Barry Samaha is the style commerce editor at Esquire, the place he covers all things trend and grooming. Combine the two, and you get a pair of cool cropped trousers that are virtually too hot to handle. Corduroy is't the only cotton contending for a place in winterwear. Moleskin can additionally be densely woven to be sturdy and prevent wind from penetrating onto the skin.

Our cloud-like, cosy and long-lasting Luxury Baby Blankets are easy to the touch and delicate on baby’s delicate pores and skin. Made with the finest Cashmere and Merino Wool fibres, our soft wool baby blankets make a special new child present. On the most chipper of winter days, there’s no better feeling than bundling up all of your heat, cozy winter equipment. To top it all off, your finest winter coat, of course. And, to prime THAT all off, a sherpa hooded inside may have you feeling as cosy as a bug in a rug.

Shipping And Delivery

Everlane’s gone out and 100 percent recycled polyester created from 64 renewed plastic water bottles to create one of many coziest coats you’ll ever placed on. A spiffy coat whereas serving to the surroundings at the identical time? SPY is your daily file into everyday luxuries, undiscovered gems and the individuals and products making information all over the world. As industry insiders, we scout out probably the most unique, quality and discerning products and experiences. Then, we show you how to entry them, usually earlier than anyone else. A little little bit of CBD oil could make it that a lot simpler to relax or go to sleep, even whereas grieving (the oil is non-intoxicating however can promote a feeling of calm or well-being).

Cashmere blankets are an heirloom quality present for the baby. In truth, you also can make a cashmere blanket gift even more special by personalizing it with embroidery of the child's name or initials onto the blanket. You can even order custom designs at some specialty boutiques. You should purchase baby blankets created from cashmere at each local shops and on-line. You could possibly discover a wider choice of blanket colours and designs on-line, including pashmina cashmere blanket options at an inexpensive price.

Goats’ fur, like human hair, will get fluffier and more luscious after a wash. Firstly, conditioner is formulated to be rinsed out and incorporates oils and generally colouring that will stain. Lay the item flat to dry on another massive fluffy towel. And there a quantity of tips to strive, in case you have the power to experiment. All of these things may be tried on a knitted item, or on a skein.

Royal Mail International Tracked and Signed delivery methodology is absolutely trackable with proof of supply. Should you require a quicker shipment please get in contact and we can organize it for you. Vinyl A Frame Folding Chair, Set of 2Also manufactured from stable hardwood with a cherry finish, this convenient chair is upholstered in off-white vinyl.

In this luxury blanket, your baby will be tucked in love and off to dreamland. This beautifully vivid blanket is 36" x 36", plus fantastic satin borders for the proper end. It is historically crafted by hand to give you a fabulous blanket. Sublimely delicate and snuggly, our 100% cashmere includes a honeycomb knit and heatheredyarns. Enjoy unique entry to particular provides and information. Lightweight but warm, say goodbye to winter bulk with UNIQLO ULD.

Please delete some items if you want to add different items in your cart. Light as a feather, warm as mothers hug, so gentle and it can be used instantly on baby pores and skin. Our greatest goal is to create distinctive items to inspire candy, memorable moments for our shoppers and their families. If visiting from exterior the United States, you will be automatically directed to our UPS i-parcel-enabled website.

We make every effort to please you with every order. But if an item doesn't go well with you, we are going to accept its return for a refund, excluding any transport expenses, for up to 60 days from the date of our cargo to you. Returned gadgets should be unused and in salable condition.

San Patrignano is the most important and most profitable neighborhood for drug abuse and addiction on the planet. A restricted version of blankets, plaids and baby blankets could be personalized with name initials. This baby blanket is 100 percent cashmere yarn and is completely handmade by a mixture of old-style weaving methods. The products reveals love for Italian craftsmanship and objective to make residents free from drugs.

Falling Snow Blanket

Please remember customized items are not returnable so please enter your initials with care. Petit Tresor Luxe sells unique particular treasures and items, and is the go to source for classy mothers internationally. This Hat has playful pompoms and the Mittens don’t get lost with the hooked up twine.

Give the perfect present to deliver their creativeness to life with teepees and tents, or nurture their creativity with collaborative video games and arts and crafts. Toddler toys like blocks and stuffed animals are fun picks for little ones. Get the proper storage on your youngsters' gear with bookshelves, packing containers, chests and dressers to assist pack away all their clothes and toys. From baby to toddler and past, ensure your family has the furnishings, bedding and toys you have to assist your youngsters tackle every single day.

Pashmina cashmere has a popularity of being the softest, warmest and more sturdy of all cashmere wool. It is generally dearer than other cashmere grades. Many child blankets are made with pashmina cashmere.

You can even access or replace your selection by clicking the flag and choosing the nation to which your order might be shipped. This will replace the pricing on the site to the native foreign money, and you'll then browse the site and add gadgets to your bag. Once you proceed to checkout, you will be directed to a secure purchasing cart managed by UPS i-parcel, from which you will complete your transaction. Once your order is submitted, you will receive an order affirmation instantly. Note that orders can't be canceled or modified after submission. After the blanket is dry, iron it on a low setting, if necessary.

[monaisme]

One Week Later - Chapter Two

This is the sequel to my one-shot, “The Battle”

He woke up in stages.

The first time he sort of came around, Peter didn’t even bother to open his eyes. In his sleep stupor, he noticed only the blanket. It smelled—which was weird ‘cuz Aunt May knew that scents bothered him, but this smell wasn’t offensive at all—it was fresh, real, maybe spicy? Its weight was off, too. It was heavier than his favourite Iron Man comforter, which was nice. The extra pressure made him feel safer than he could remember, though he didn’t understand why. He just knew he felt like he could sleep forever, and so he burrowed a little deeper into the warmth and drifted off.

The second time he thought about waking up, it was a quiet, underlying hum that drew his limited attention. It was like something, no—everything was vibrating, and not crazy like an engine... more like a cat’s purr and Peter imagined soft fur through his fingers as he pulled the blanket up to his chin. He hummed in contentment. It felt good. It felt relaxing. It lulled him back into sleep.

The third time Peter was aware of his surroundings he knew he had no choice but to stay awake. The blanket still pressed against him, and the hum of whatever still strummed through him—but hushed whispers of a man and woman nearby meant that people were there, that they waiting for him to come back...

And then he remembered.

His eyes flew open as he gasped which alerted whoever was in the room to his waking. Who that was, Peter wasn’t sure as he clamped his eyes shut in embarrassment. How could he have behaved so... gah! How would anyone ever take him seriously when he kept acting like a baby? –First on the battlefield and then before his surgery. If only he could just figure out some way to toss himself in front of a train, then maybe everyone would be distracted from what had happened.

Thoughts flew through his suddenly racing brain at a mile a minute and Peter tried to throw the blanket over his face to hide himself. He couldn’t face them... but then the pain of trying to move his still not healed arm caused him to gasp again and cry out in pain.  He’d hoped for invisibility but his reactions brought the hands of his visitors to him, straightened him on the bed.

The pain brought nausea and he was sure he was going to puke all over the nice smelling blanket and he couldn’t feel the hum anymore for the panic he was trying to tamp down and it hurt- it hurt- it hurt...

“You’re okay, Peter. Just breathe through it.” Mr. Stark was at his side, trying to settle him. “You’ve got this,” he encouraged as he ran his calloused fingers through Peter’s tangled locks. “Just keep breathing.”

It only took a minute for Peter’s breathing to regulate, which helped the pain, which helped the panic, which helped with the nausea—and Peter was left only just as tired as he’d been before he’d decided to spazz out like a weirdo, again.  He groaned and finally managed to pull his blanket over his head using his good arm. “Kill me now, please?” He whispered to himself as he flushed in utter humiliation.

Mr. Stark heard his pleas, however, and simply replied. “I just got you back, Petey. I’d much prefer it if you made an effort to keep breathing for me, bud.” Mr. Stark gave a light tug on the blanket and stayed beside him.

—Which was new?! Mr. Stark was supposed to say something snarky and then hightail it out of the room to call someone better suited to whatever occasion, be it a nurse or doctor or... well. It didn’t matter. The point was, he didn’t do all of that emotional stuff. The man had always insisted that he was stunted that way—which was maybe true, but it was alright, because he was just... Mr. Stark.

So Peter waited under the blanket and hoped that the room would clear, like it always had... even if Mr. Stark had been off-script, he’d leave, right? Peter just needed to wallow in private for a bit before he had to face—

“Peter?”

He closed his eyes and wondered if he could wait him out.

“Peter? Please?”

Mr. Stark would grow tired and leave eventually, right?

“Hey, kid, c’mon. Let me just see that you’re okay, okay? And if you want some time to yourself after that, I’ll go—I promise.”

Peter snort laughed. That sounded exactly like the old Mr. Stark. “Yeah, right,” he muttered.

Even under the blanket, Peter could hear the huff of frustration from his mentor, and then the scraping of chair legs against the floor as Mr. Stark seemed to station himself more comfortably at his side.

“You’ll find, my dear Mr. Parker, that many things have changed over the last five years... and one of those things is my ability to wait out all things stubborn—be it teammates, children, or alpacas. So if you think this is gonna put me off, you can think again, kiddo. I’ve got all the time in the world.”

Peter didn’t believe him.

He knew Mr. Stark. He knew him almost as well as his Aunt May—and was sure that Mr. Stark would start up a fuss soon enough—that this was all a bluff, but then he started to think too much and too fast... again.

Five years had passed. He had no reason to believe anyone was lying about the length of time he’d been in that place. Dr. Strange had said it before the battle, Mr. Stark had said it just then, and May wasn’t... well, May wasn’t here.

Maybe no one would judge him for his freak out?

And he needed answers and hiding under a blanket wasn’t going to get him anything.

But coming out of from under the blanket meant getting those answers, and the start of the now telltale tingling of his spider-senses told him that putting this off just a little longer might—or might not—be a bad thing.

Peter sighed as he warred with himself.

“Peter?”

His eyes filled and he fought back tears. “I’m okay, Mr. Stark. Promise. I, um...” his voice warbled. “I think I need a second, please.”

A gentle press of a hand against his good shoulder, still trapped under the blanket, “You can take all the time you need, as long as you’re okay. I’m right here when you’re ready.”

Peter blew out a slow breath and a few tears fell. “What happens if I don’t think I ever will be?”

The hand squeezed in support. “You will be, sweetheart. And when you are, I’m going to be right here.” Mr. Stark laughed that self-deprecating laugh that he always did. “And I’m not nearly the asshole I used to be so when you’re good, well, you know, I may even be helpful, but take your time. Honest. There’s no rush.” Another squeeze, and then Mr. Stark pulled his hand away.

A rush of urgency washed over the boy, and he knew that while Mr. Stark wasn’t lying to him, what he’d said wasn’t true.

He blew out another breath, this one of determination. Peter almost threw the blankets back—almost, but then thought better of it. Instead, he took a second to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks. Only once he’d done that, and was sure that no more tears would escape, did he ever so slowly pull the blanket down from his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes still shone with wetness, but he made himself look over at the man at his side. He cleared his throat and whispered, “Hi, Mr. Stark.”

He’d have thought Mr. Stark had just seen a pile of puppies for the soft look on his face. “Hey, Peter. Are you okay?”

Peter nodded a ‘yes.’

Mr. Stark nodded as well. “That’s good. Dr. Cho said your surgery went really well... and your blood work is almost back to normal. The guessing game starts now, though. Will your shoulder finish healing before your spider-powers come back completely or will your powers come back and then it heal your shoulder?” Mr. Stark chuckled. “Regardless, it’s almost over and I’m hoping that you never... ever have to go through that again.” He shuddered in remembrance. “It was awful to watch. I couldn’t imagine having to go through it.”

Peter shrugged with his one good arm. What could he say to that? “It’s okay.”

“No,” Mr. Stark replied. “It’s not. I didn’t even think that you coming back would have meant and we thrust you into the middle of a...” He stopped himself from speaking. Peter could see him visibly shift gears and then deflate. “No, we’re not talking about that yet. So much has happened, kiddo, and I don’t know where to start.”

Peter fiddled with the blanket underneath his hand nervously and voiced his biggest concern. “Can you tell me about May?”

Mr. Stark smiled down sadly at the boy. “I told you that we’d get you in front of a screen for a reunion once you were done with all the medical stuff, kiddo, and I wasn’t lying.” Mr. Stark gestured to the room at large. “I did manage to convince Dr. Cho that you would recover better in here, by the way, so you’ve managed to already hit the ‘temporary quarters’ portion of the event.”

Peter couldn’t help how unsure he sounded. “... and May?”

Mr. Stark looked at his watch. “New York is six hours behind us and it’s just after 1pm here, so that means that May is getting ready for an appointment just now...”

Mr. Stark knew Aunt May’s appointment schedule?

“... but I can give her the heads up that we’re waiting for her and maybe we can make some magic happen?” He smiled and gave Peter a wink. “But for now, why don’t we get you out of bed and get some real food in your stomach? I promised Dr. Cho that we’d stay on top of food and hydration if she took the IVs out, so...” Mr. Stark was trying to look nonchalant about the request, but he seemed concerned. “Does that work for you?”

Peter really wasn’t sure about the food idea, and he definitely wasn’t a fan of leaving his bed. It felt like sanctuary in what was about to be chaos and Peter couldn’t help but wish he could feel that way forever—but Mr. Stark seemed keen on seeing movement and Peter had already caused so much trouble—he nodded, “Okay. I can do that.”

Mr. Stark clapped his hands together and stood up. “Good man! Now—“ He started reaching toward the bed. “Let me help you out. You’ve been off your feet for far too long and, nutrients or not, I’m sure you’re gonna feel a little unsteady.” He pulled the blankets back and supported Peter as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Okay. How are you feeling right now?”

If Peter were being honest, he’d have told Mr. Stark that he was feeling a little vertigo—that the room was tilting a little funny and that he wasn’t sure he was up for the task. And it wasn’t like he thought Mr. Stark would keep things from him, but delays because Peter couldn’t pull it together meant potentially waiting to hear word about May and he couldn’t risk it. “I’m good, sir. Thanks.” He gave a half smile, committed to the ruse and wiggled toward the end of the bed.

“You’re killing me, kid! I thought we were friends! You know that ‘sir’ garbage is absolutely unacceptable.“

Peter grinned at the familiarity. “C’mon,” he lowered himself to stand up on the floor, “You know I was raised to respect my elders.”

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Respect, my ass.” Mr. Stark cuffed Peter playfully across the back of his head. “The day I get any respect, is the day I sprout flowers out of my ass.”

A light tap on the door drew Peter’s attention as the words left Mr. Stark’s mouth, and then it opened enough for Ms. Potts head to peek into the room. “Now Tony, you know better than to use language like that in front of impressionable young children.” Ms. Potts playfully chastised him.

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes, “Sure he’s impressionable like I’m a—“

“Yes, Tony. I know, you’re the victim here and Peter was being a big meanie.” She looked at Peter and smiled affectionately before staring down the man beside him. “You know I wasn’t joking about the swear jar. Behave, Mr. Stark, or else.” She shook her head in mock disapproval and looked back at Peter. “I’m sorry to interrupt, I heard you two talking and was wondering if you wanted me to order something from the kitchen for lunch.”

Peter smiled awkwardly at her consideration and turned to Mr. Stark. “I’m not sure...” he started, only for Mr. Stark to interrupt.

“Yeah, Pep, that would be great.” Mr. Stark scrutinized Peter for a second, and saw enough that he turned back to Mr. Potts. “I don’t think his sandwich made it past Clint, so we’re gonna have to improvise. Can you see if they have a vegetable soup or broth—maybe some bread or crackers or something, too? I think we’ll keep it light for now... just until his metabolism is up to snuff again.” The request was made as he turned to Peter again. “Does that sound good?”

His stomach churned, and while it may not have sounded good, it was probably going to be at least manageable so he nodded ‘yes.’ “Thank you, Ms. Potts. That’s sounds great.” He smiled feebly.

The atmosphere in the room shifted, and Peter wondered why both adults seemed so uncomfortable.

“Actually, Pete,” Mr. Stark rededicated himself to getting Peter up from where he’d propped himself against the bed. “It’s Mrs. Stark now.” He chuckled nervously and cleared his throat. “It’s all official and everything. No take-backs.”  

Peter brought his attention over to Ms. Potts—um, Mrs. Stark, where she nervously wiggled the fingers of her left hand to show off a simple wedding band.

“Oh.” Peter frowned, then blushed, embarrassed again at his reaction. That had been unkind, and it wasn’t their fault. He tried to recover with what he hoped was his normal exuberance. “I mean—Oh! That’s awesome! Congratulations on your marriage, Mr. And Mrs. Stark.” He imagined the fanfare; imagined a large ballroom with dancing and food and laughter. He figured that May had gone. She and Ms. Potts—damn it! Mrs. Stark had been friends before—And his mentor? The man he thought of as his... crap. He stopped that train of thought and tried to shake off those five missed years. He huffed out a breath of regret. “I’m sorry I missed it...” He half smiled as his voice trailed off. That had made it no better. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispered.

Mr. Stark wrapped his arm around Peter’s waist and started moving them slowly toward the door Mrs. Stark was still standing at. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Pete... at least for you. You’ve been in and out of it for the last week and we didn’t think it made sense to fill you in on all of the changes while you couldn’t really retain it. That’s on me, and I’m the one who should be sorry.”

Mrs. Stark moved out of their way and excused herself to get lunch for everyone, “That will give you boys a chance to talk,” she said quietly, and she left the suite for the kitchen.

Neither of them said anything as they shuffled toward the living room, which Peter appreciated. His emotions were all over the place in that moment, and physically, he knew he needed to sit down before he did something stupid like fall on his face.

“Peter? Are you doing alright?”

They were mere feet from the couch so Peter waited until he was sitting before he nodded. “Yeah,” he panted from the exertion. “I guess I’m just a little out of shape.” He joked. Peter took in the room around him with its glass and metal as he continued, “But sitting is good.” His head spun, but just a bit. “I guess I’ll take this over the being stuck in bed.”

Mr. Stark sat on the coffee table across from him and smiled. “That sounds like the Peter Parker I know.”  He leaned forward and put a strong hand on his knee. “Now, how do you want to work this? Do you want to ask questions, should I start at the beginning, or will this devolve into one of your trademarked Peter conversations where any semblance of order is thrown out the window so we should just jump right into it?”

Peter shrugged and simply answered, “I really want to know about Aunt May.”    

Mr. Stark exhaled slowly, then nodded. “Okay, so—May.” He pulled his hand back from the boy’s knee and clasped his hands together, almost like he was praying. “Alright. First and foremost, May is alive. She was not dusted so she’s still here. She knows you are back and has been updated regularly regarding your recovery... Oh! Thanks for the reminder! She says you’re grounded, by the way and,” Mr. Stark leaned forward and planted a big ol’ kiss on the top of Peter’s head. “That is from her, and she is so excited to hear from you now that you’re awake and coherent.”

Peter couldn’t hide his relief. “Okay. That’s so good. That means she’s okay, right? Is she just busy with work? I can’t even imagine how crazy the world must be...” Peter rambled before seeing that Tony wasn’t sharing in his exuberance. “Mr. Stark?”  

Mr. Stark jumped into it with an explanation, “Before I start, kid, please know that most of the story is what I’ve been told. I was stuck floating on a spaceship for three weeks and only found out about this after we came back, so I may not be able to answer your questions... but if I can’t, we’ll find someone who can. Okay? Maybe Pepper? Heck. Maybe we should wait for Pepper? She shouldn’t be too much longer and then—“

“Is it that bad?” Peter asked.

Mr. Stark closed his eyes, like he was steeling himself up to do something awful, and that’s when Peter knew. He closed his own eyes for a second, tried to temper the emotions warring within him. He needed to be strong.

“After the first snap, she couldn’t find you—or Ned, or anyone, I guess, so she called Pepper who didn’t know what the hell was going on either. Steve... uh, Steve Rogers,” Mr. Stark added, in case Peter needed clarification, “He got in touch with Pepper and brought her over to Wakanda to rally the remaining troops, I guess, but—yeah. May was invited to come, too, but with all of the chaos after that snap, May decided to stay and keep working. The ratio of healthcare workers to the injured was horrifying, Pete, but your aunt was a freakin’ hero. She worked harder than anyone and saved so many lives over the course of the week after...”

“And?” Peter was growing impatient.

Mr. Stark hesitated.

“Mr. Stark, please.”

Mr. Stark leaned forward again, “She’d worked another overtime shift and was leaving the emergency department sometime around 2am. From what the police could gather, a drug addict was heading into the hospital hoping to get a fix when he saw your aunt in her uniform and approached her instead.” Mr. Stark tried to catch Peter’s eye, but Peter refused. “She tried to talk him into going in and getting help but this guy’s dealer and his back up had both been dusted and he was next level desperate and, um...” Mr. Stark’s mouth twisted as he tried to say the words. “She was stabbed in the side eight times, and would have bled out in minutes if not for the fact that she was only steps away from the ER doors. She was rushed into surgery, where the doctors were able to save her, but she ended up losing a kidney.”  

Peter blanched. “She was stabbed?” He squeaked.

Mr. Stark held his hands again, “Yeah, bud.” He ran his thumbs gently over Peter’s knuckles. “Do you need to take a break? I’m not expecting that we’ll be able to talk to her for a bit, so there’s time.”

It was like the universe was listening as a disembodied voice interrupted them and announced, “Incoming video call from May Parker’s primary physician.”

Peter dropped his head into his hands waiting to see what cruel joke it had in store for him.

Mr. Stark didn’t hesitate to reply. “Answer it, FRIDAY.” He stood up and moved to shield Peter from the camera. “Dr. Bonwick, we didn’t have a call scheduled for today. Is everything alright?”

Peter couldn’t see him, but could hear the concern in his voice, “No, we didn’t, but Mrs. Parker has developed an infection at her access site and we’ve had to move her back into the med bay for further treatment. She had mentioned a video call to her nephew,” Mr. Stark shifted again, “and had seemed quite agitated about missing it, but with the fever, she’s struggling with pain levels and we’ve had to adjust med dosages temporarily.”

Mr. Stark placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “So no phone call today,” Mr. Stark stated.

“No, Sir. We had to bump her dialysis treatment up to very early this morning in order to accommodate the antibiotics schedule, so she’s currently sleeping.  We anticipate that she’ll stay that way until we can get the right dosage working for her.”

Mr. Stark sighed. “Alright. Please let me know when she’s awake, Doc.” Mr. Stark’s hand moved and he ran his fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. “She wasn’t the only one excited about that call. FRIDAY, disconnect.”

Neither of them moved, but Peter spoke first. “Tell me.”

Mr. Stark dropped to the seat beside him, but kept his fingers moving through Peter’s hair. “When they removed her kidney, it was obvious that it wasn’t healthy, so they did every test under the sun. It turns out that May has a genetic condition called autosomal dominant polycystic dominant kidney disease—and you’re lucky that I got it right that time, ‘cause I’m never saying it again.” Mr. Stark shifted to wrap his arm around Peter’s torso and hugged him to his side. “Some people can have it and never know, while others get sick, suffer chronic headaches, develop cysts, high blood pressure... there’s a list somewhere.” Mr. Stark stopped for a second, regrouped, and then continued. “Regardless, your Aunt May didn’t know she had it, didn’t even know it was something in her family, what with—“

“Them all being dead?” Peter finished his sentence for him.

Mr. Stark side hugged him again. “Yeah, that.”

Peter shook his head. “I don’t know what to say—like, what kind of treatment is she receiving? Where is she? Is she gonna be okay? Can I go see her?”

“Breathe, Peter.” Mr. Stark reminded him. “Of course you can see her. We were waiting for you to be better before leaving, just in case things went all topsy-turvy, but you seem to be in the final-final stretch so Pep and I were thinking that we’d head back to New York tomorrow.”

Peter nodded eagerly, ignoring the lingering dizziness.

“We’ll head straight to the tower then, okay? May’s been there since she was released from the hospital five years ago. She’d wanted to keep working, but I figured you’d want me to keep an eye on her, especially after... so we compromised and she moved into Nat’s old quarters. When she started getting sicker, we moved her into the penthouse and brought in a team to treat her specifically. She’s in the med bay right—“

“Wait! Sicker?” Peter interrupted. “It’s just an infection, right? That’s what the doctor said!”

“Peter, your aunt’s condition worsened in the years after the stabbing,” Mr. Stark moved again to sit back on the coffee table—took his hands in his again. “Peter, I need you to understand. With only one compromised kidney, it wasn’t long before your aunt was on dialysis and the organ transplant list, but with half the population gone...”

“No.”

“Peter. Look at me.” The stern tone brought Peter’s eyes up. “We have done everything humanly possible to take care of your aunt, I promise you that—and now that everyone is back, there may be a chance...?”

The laugh that came out of Peter bordered on hysterical as the reality he’d reformed into came crashing down around him before he’d even taken a breath. “Stop. I can’t hear it.” He looked wildly around the room, “I just need to process this and then figure things out and then I’ll be good.” He stood up, forcing Mr. Stark to lean back on the table. “I need to talk to May.”

“Peter, she’s—“

“I know, okay!?. I know! I heard him!” He was trying not to panic but it vibrated through him like that earlier hum. He wished he could go back to however long ago and that peace and safety but he’d already wasted so much time recovering and five years in that damned stone! How could he--? May had needed him and he was gone and she was hurt and sick and he was gone and now he was here and he was still too far away! Why couldn’t he ever be in the right place at the right time? First Ben and now—Damn it! “I need to—I need to take a walk,” Peter stepped away from the couch, unsteady, but determined to pace. “I’m gonna take a walk and then I’m gonna sit down and make a list—“ Aunt May always said to make a list if he felt too overwhelmed, and if ever there was a time—Peter’s heart started to race as he gulped in air. “I’ll do that and then I’ll have a plan—and then when I talk to Aunt May, I won’t need to worry her��“ He swayed. “I can’t worry her, Mr. Stark.” Peter could feel his heart breaking. He crouched low and curled in on himself. “I can’t do this again.”

Peter felt him come up beside him and usher him back to the couch. “C’mon, sweetheart. I hear you, but we need to get you lying down before you pass out.” He pressed him down onto the couch and manoeuvred Peter back so he was stretched out. Some throw cushions somehow made it under his feet and Mr. Stark was again sitting on that stupid coffee table at Peter’s head. “You’re okay, kiddo. Just breathe for me.”

Peter turned away from his mentor and pressed his face into the back of the couch. “No.” He brought his arms up over his head, not even noticing that the pain in his shoulder was almost gone for the pain in his chest. “I can’t.”

Mr. Stark moved from the coffee table to the narrow strip of cushion behind him. “Yes, you can, Peter. You do it all the time.”

“But what if I don’t want to...” He sounded so pathetic even as he gasped.

“Well, if you don’t want to do it for you, then you do it for someone else—like your aunt... just until you get the strength back to do it for yourself.”

“But when she’s gone...”    

“Then you do it for someone else, Peter Parker.” Mr. Stark shifted a bit, then came in for a hug from behind. “Because if you think, for one damned second, that you’re alone, you are wrong—do you understand me?”

A gut wrenching sob tore from Peter’s throat and he couldn’t—he just couldn’t. He shook his head to disagree, but the warm pressure of his mentor at his back, staying beside him as he struggled, told him that he was wrong. It was too much to bear and Mr. Stark was there and he needed something—someone to anchor him before he lost himself completely. He forced himself to move right then, because if he didn’t, he never would again. He sat up, awkward and gangly as he fought against cushions and emotional exhaustion. Mr. Stark was there, waiting to see what Peter needed, and so Peter threw himself into his arms and wept as Mr. Stark’s arms came around him. “I wanna go home, Mr. Stark. Please. I just wanna go home.”

Mr. Stark rocked him, “Alright, buddy. We’ll get you there,” he promised. “We’ll get you home to May.“

* * * * * *

Mrs. Stark found them that way only a short time later, and Peter was drained enough that he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Tony?” She whispered as she gently placed a tray laden with food on the coffee table. “Has something happened?”

Mr. Stark continued rocking as he answered. “May’s doctor called. We had to postpone the video call and we talked about May—all of it.”

And that was enough for Mrs. Stark to understand. “Okay. So what’s the plan, honey?”

“When Peter’s ready for me to move, I’ll get in touch with T’Challa and Dr. Strange and arrange for a portal back home.” Peter snuggled deeper into Mr. Stark’s chest and the man pressed a kiss into Peter’s hair. “Not yet, baby, I know.” He shifted to accommodate Peter’s wiggles and continued. “Other than that—“ Mr. Stark shrugged. “I guess we figure out how to move forward from all of this?”

And Peter wondered to himself if he ever would.

[jilytho]

Never Lose You P2

the second (and final) part of my Jily fic, Never Lose You, totally inspired by Cornelia Street by Taylor! You can find Part 1 right here and read part 2 below, or the whole thing on ao3 here 

By the time they had climbed the three flights of stairs up to their apartment, Sirius dramatically pretending to gasp for air by the top, all the feelings had completely rushed back to her. Despite the time separated, and the awkwardness of their last conversation, she was quickly remembering why James was one of her favorite people in the world. She never could forget that smile, the way his lips were quirked permanently on the edge of laughter or a quick joke. Remembered how he and his friends had their own secret language and world, but made sure their other friends were never excluded. Always with a finger on her back, a wink shot her way.

Marlene and Lily went straight to the kitchen to gather beers and solo cups and some vodka for Alice. They worked as a team, efficient and quick, finding mismatched large mixing bowls to pour some slightly stale tortilla chips in with some salsa.

In the small living room, Alice had quickly put the boys to work, instructing them to scour the apartment for other seating options they could cram into the tiny living room to make a circle around the coffee table. 

Sirius and Remus made quick work of Marlene’s room, grabbing her extra throw blankets and pillows from her bed to toss about the living room floor and give someone something to sit on. Sirius found ‘the armchair’ that Marlene had found in the alley across the street and threw all of the clothes and makeup piled on top of it onto Marlene's bed. He dragged it out into the living room before throwing himself into it sideways, tossing his legs over the arm of it.

Remus, too, tossed out the beanbag chair from Mar’s room and promptly launched himself onto it, claiming it for the night. 

Lily and Mar loaded up the coffee table with their various drinks and snacks. Right as she was about to settle herself on the couch Marlene interrupted her actions, “Lily-love, could you grab a deck of playing cards from your room? Just in case we want to play Kings or something,” Marlene's smirk was met by a chorus of agreement from the boys, so Lily dragged herself into her room. Yanking off her heels as she walked down the hall, she immediately launched them into the corner of her room containing her closet without looking and planned to go right to her bedside table when a deep voice let out a “Bloody Hell Evans!”

Lily promptly shrieked and whipped around, hand over her heart, to spot James clutching one of her heels in the corner of her room, the other laying a foot to the left of him. 

“Watch where you toss these things, Lily! They’ve got spikes!” James huffed indignantly, waving the heel of the shoe at her. 

“In case you hadn’t noticed James,” Lily started, hands immediately finding on her hips, “this is my bloody room! I can throw my shoes wherever I bloody well please! What are you doing in here?” Lily tried to sound angry or annoyed but really it just sounded a bit breathless. Her heart was pounding way too fast and while she’d like to blame the fright he gave her, she figured it actually had much more to do with the boy in her room. And the bed separating them. The big bed. 

James seemed to realize how incriminating it was for him to be just standing there, in her bedroom, where she kept her underthings, clutching her shoe. His hand immediately shot to his hair, a strong blush following it up his neck. “Alice told me to come look for a chair or cushion or erm something. I got a tad distracted by your erm photos and things,” he gestured to the wall of pictures Lily had covering the wall behind her bed. She noticed him looking particularly at one photo in the bottom left corner. A picture of them, all snuggled up laughing. In the photo, Lily was looking ahead towards the camera, eyes closed as she laughed raucously. James, on the other hand, had been staring right at her. Even in the picture, you could see the sparkle in his eyes. 

“Oh of course.” Lily stepped closer to the photos, abandoning her search for the cards. “Makes me happy to see them all when I come back from work. Do you remember this one?” She pointed towards a photo in the dead center, “Right after the championship match before that wild party, right?” James laughed as he leaned closer.

She wouldn’t tell him but it was her favorite picture on the whole wall, showing Lily tightly pulled under James’ arm, smashed in between him and Sirius grinning wildly, red and gold facepaint covering her face while Marlene clung to Sirius’ back mid laugh, waving the championship trophy overhead. 

“That was a great day. Remember when Sirius broke that table trying to do a cartwheel and almost landed in the fire?”

She could have spent the whole night there, reminiscing about their stupid mates and telling new stories as James pointed to picture after picture, asking the stories. She told him all about the photo of her and dad surrounded by alpacas, about the tiny little chubby baby, who she had to assure James that it was not her illegitimate child, but rather Petunia’s new baby boy. “Dudley Dursley, isn’t it horrific? I mean give the boy a chance!” He laughed so hard that he felt his face becoming red and his cheeks hurting as she explained the one of Marlene and her on a boat in Greece, where her skin was painfully bright red because the wind had blown away her floppy hat so she had to spend the rest of the boat ride painfully sunburnt. 

 She hadn’t even noticed that as they spoke and laughed they both moved from standing to sitting on opposite sides of the bed, facing the photos. And then slowly turned to now face each other. Still on opposite sides of the bed, but closer now, much closer. Close enough that she could smell him, feel the way his laugh vibrated. She felt electric being this close to him, and if she had thought it through she undoubtedly would have jumped up and moved further away, but she couldn’t do that when it felt so undeniably natural to be sitting here laughing with him. 

He was in the middle of telling her about the time him and the boys had their own exploits in Greece, including waking up after a long night to find Sirius asleep on the balcony surrounded by 16 cats, when Alice burst into the room.

“Lily, did you get lost? What is taking so long-” Lily and James both shot off of the bed in different directions as Alice walked in and took in the scene before her. 

“Okay then. See you guys out there.” Alice nodded calmly and walked right back out of the room. 

“I guess we should-”

“Yeah, probably.” James had his hand back in his hair ruffling again and started to leave the room. Lily stared after him for a second before clearing her throat and digging through her bedside table for the card deck. Right as she was leaving, she noticed his jacket still around her. She shrugged out of it, folding it lightly but not quite ready to give it back to him. She left it on her bed.

When she reentered the living room, cards in hand, she saw that Peter had stolen her seat on the couch, leaving the only open space being on a pillow, on the ground, next to James. 

He nodded at her awkwardly and took a large gulp from his cup as she lowered herself carefully onto the pillow next to him, careful to keep all of her limbs to her regulated area. 

She reached out for a beer of her own and took a long drink. Marlene tried to catch Lily’s eye but when she only saw the underside of her cup instead, she quickly understood it would be a discussion for later instead. 

“Okay! So! The game is Kings! If you’ve never played-” 

“McKinnon, no!” Sirius interrupted, “I want to play never have I ever!” 

“Sirius, you lose Never Have I Ever every single time. You’ve done everything. Shut up and listen,” James retorted, throwing a chip at Sirius who caught it and ate it. 

“It’s because I’ll try anything once,” he said wolfishly, giving Alice an exaggerated wink. 

As the night went on, the drinks and laughs continued to flow and Lily’s strict personal space slowly shifted as she traveled into the neutral territory between them. But then at some point, James had shifted so he was lying on his stomach, with just his elbows on the pillow and his head in his hands, and Lily had shifted slightly so she was lying sideways now along her pillow and really the easiest place for her feet to rest was on James’s back. And really, when he complained that they smelled and she was infiltrating his space with disgusting feet, the only thing that made any sense to do was to leap on top of his back- “Infiltrate your space? I’ll show you infiltrated!”- and then as she lied there on top of his back, full weight on him, she realized just how poorly of an idea this was. It would have been much worse if he had been facing up because then she’d have to stare at his face, but this was also worse because now she was left with her head practically in his hair and oh my god why does it smell so good? What 20 something year old boy has hair and body that somehow smells like peppermint and cinnamon and delicious? And as if the smell of him wasn’t enough, just from pressing along his back she could feel how hard his body had become. Strong and toned. Gone was any of the former squish teenagers had. This was the body of a man and dear god that was terrifying. 

Right as she was contemplating the least awkward way to remove herself from his person Sirius FLEW on top of her as well, making both James and Lily groan, screaming “DOG-PILE”. Marlene quickly followed Sirius’ lead and soon Lily was completely and utterly trapped, smushed with her face lying straight in James’ delicious peppermint/cinnamon/something combo hair and having her person and front bits all smushed alongside his back. She wondered if he could feel her thundering heart against his back. 

“Sirius, you oaf! Get off of me before I vomit all over you all!” Lily shrieked. James grunted in agreement. 

Eventually, they all climbed off and Lily slowly was able to roll off of James, now lying alongside him, facing the sky while both her and James stretched out the kinks. “Well, that was fun,” James groaned turning his head to look at Lily, who was still staring at the ceiling.

Lily hummed in agreement, refusing to meet his eyes, knowing that they’d be warm and golden hazel and beautiful and be far too much for her to handle after being reminded what he smelled and felt like. 

“Lily?” he questioned quietly, while all the others continued to refill their drinks and settle back in, still laughing at Sirius. 

She gulped and turned her head to meet his eye, surprised at how close they still were, barely two inches between them. She could feel his warm breath on her face and the depth of emotion immediately took her breath away. Hazel eyes filled with warmth but not light, no they were quickly becoming pitch black and full of something else. Lust or passion, heat, something, but whatever it was, Lily was quite sure her eyes matched his. 

She held his gaze evenly, completely tuning out all of the other voices around them, as they lied there, breathing heavily. 

“Lily,” he whispered, voice laden with want and fear. The want part scared her the most and she tore her gaze away from his, to look back up at the ceiling. The ceiling that was now spinning. Oh god. 

She took a deep breath and pulled herself so she was sitting up, James twisting around to do the same, looking at her like he was afraid of her. Like she was a delicate bird that would fly away at the first sign of movement. 

“Lily,” he spoke again, cautiously. She looked at him for a moment, unable to make any words come out before jumping up. “Um, bathroom.” She explained to Mar when they all looked at her in alarm as she stood up. The girls nodded slowly like they understood something else was going on. 

Lily stood there for a moment, taking in the room around her. Peter was now asleep in the corner of the couch, snoring lightly with his mouth open, while Remus seemed to be making a game of trying to throw pieces of chips into his open mouth. Sirius lazed still in his armchair, drink in hand, head hanging off the opposite side of the chair. And James, sweet, good James. Sitting there, watching her desperately.

She turned on her heel and walked in the opposite direction of the bathroom but instead to the small balcony off the kitchen. It was barely big enough to squeeze two little chairs but it was Marlene and Lily’s favorite part of the whole apartment. Coffee or wine on those little chairs were their favorite ways to pass any weekend. 

Now, Lily walked out and leaned up against the railing, looking down at the street below. 

“What are you doing, what are you doing, what are you doing?” she whispered fiercely to herself, running her hands across her face, before pulling at her hair, whipping it quickly into a ponytail. 

She didn’t hear the sound of the door sliding open, but she heard it close, and instantly knew who it would be. Of course he would follow her out here. He always followed her, always knew. How could he still know her like that, after all this time? 

“James,” she whispered. 

“Hey, Lils.” He said it casually, with a kind of lightness that Lily envied. Clearly he was not as affected by her because she knew she couldn’t match that level of lowkey. 

With a deep breath, she turned around to face him and found him leaning against the door, watching her. His posture was casual and calm, but she saw something else in his eyes entirely. Some forced guard hiding the emotions he usually left in plain sight. 

“Why’d you come out here, James?” Despite any attempts at casualness, her voice came out as nothing less than desperate.

“Why did you, Lily?” He sounded like he was trying very hard to not shout the words at her. 

“I don't know,” she looked down, “I don’t know anything anymore. The room was getting hot and uncomfortable, I just needed… air I guess” 

“That’s exactly what you told me you needed that night.” he sounded less angry, more defeated. “You asked me to come get some air with you, that the party was getting too ‘hot, busy, and uncomfortable’ so I took you to the roof to look at the stars.” Now James was the one refusing to meet her eyes. Staring pointedly at something behind her left shoulder. 

“I remember,” she whispered, “James, that night. I am so sorry.” the words were pouring out of her now, desperately trying to escape and explain what she’d been trying to figure out for the past five years. 

“James, you meant so much to me. Mean so much to me. I was just… scared,” she explained pathetically, feeling vulnerable and weak. He searched her face with his eyes and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold herself together. 

“Scared of what, Lily? Me? You know I would never hurt you. You meant everything to me. And I thought we were finally in the same place, finally in a place where we could admit that, without the pressure and expectations of school and then you just, rejected me. Rejected me without an explanation or reason or a backward glance you just�� left. You left me alone up there.” There was no anger left in his voice, just hurt and pain. 

She couldn’t stand to see that pain in his eyes, knowing she had caused it. She took a step forward, reaching out an arm to his shoulder and then quickly bringing it back to her side without touching him. 

“You meant everything to me too, James, you did! You still do! I just wasn’t ready. I could handle the pressure at school, but I couldn’t handle that in the world. We were just kids! I wanted you, of course I wanted you, but I didn’t think I could start something when we were just starting out on our own,” she was speaking fast, rushing to make him understand, “I was so scared, James. We were going to be starting new lives and I knew you deserved better than me but I couldn’t take it. I was being stupid. I was stupid and scared and I blamed it on you and I am so sorry James, I would take it all back if I could. I was so stupid” she reached out for him now, gripping one of his hands between both of hers.

“What about after?” he whispered urgently, still looking at her with such intensity. “Why did it take so long and a random run in at a bar to make you tell me this?” 

“I don't know, I assumed you moved on. I thought you might not want to see me, I was just scared and embarrassed that I ever pushed you away. But James, I am so happy I ran into you. I am so happy you came into that dive bar, whatever drew you there. It was inevitable and I am so sorry I ever did anything to stop it.” She reached one of her hands around the back of his head, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck, keeping his eyes level with hers. She felt her stomach flip as some of the guardedness leaked out, leaving behind so much emotion to show. 

She knew whatever happened, whatever he said, she would never be the same. She couldn’t lose him again, she would never be able to go back to that bar. To look at his picture again. This would be the heartbreak time would never mend. 

“Lily,” he brought the hand not holding hers up to wrap around her neck, thumb caressing her cheek. “If this is going to happen, you need to know that this is for good. I am not letting you walk away again.” He stared into her eyes honestly, looking for any hesitancy. 

“There’s nowhere I’d want to go,” was all Lily could whisper before she pulled his head down and reached up to meet his lips in the middle. 

They kissed softly for half a second before it turned hungry, passionate, strong, and utterly mind robbing. James was quick to switch their positions and hold her up against the door, pressing into her with all of his weight. She pulled him down harder, loving the feel of him against her, the smell of him, the feel of his hair in between her fingers.

He groaned her name out as she pulled at his hair, which she responded to by nipping lightly at his lower lip. He reached an arm around her lower back to pull her in closer, holding her up as he began to travel, down her neck. Kisses punishing and powerful and so James. With him working on her pulse points she was left to pull at his hair and whisper his name heatedly, about to yank his mouth back to hers by his hair-

“Well, well, well,” Sirius yanked the door to the balcony open, “what do we have here?”

James yanked his head away from hers to look at their intruder, but continued to hold her up against him as he shot the finger towards Sirius. Lily hid her red face in James’s shoulder as their friend laughed obnoxiously.

“Marlene, you’ll never guess who is ruining your balcony with their depraved sinfulness,” Sirius called over his shoulder, while James groaned, pushing his nose into Lily’s hair to hide. 

“Guess we’ve run out of time,” Lily whispered into his ear.

“Nah, love,” James pulled away, grabbing his hands in hers and walking them backwards towards the balcony door Sirius had left open. “We’ve got forever.”

They walked back in to loud cheers and whistles from their friends, which quickly woke Peter up and he immediately began to cough up the few tortilla chip bits Remus had successfully thrown at him.

Lily felt embarrassed for half a second before looking up at the extremely fit bloke holding her hand. Suddenly she quite felt like cheering as well. 

[styledby]

...that blanket, though...  from Brooklinen:  

Our brand new Baby Alpaca throw blanket in plaid is guaranteed to be your new favorite blanket. Woven from Peruvian eco-friendly Alpaca, it is is soft, cuddly and perfect for year round lounging.

[snarkythewoecrow]

Peter gets the chickenpox

Rating: G

Wordcount: 2.5k

Summary:  Peter and Morgan both catch the chickenpox. Morgan's case is mild, but Peter's is severe. Tony takes care of them both.

AN: Written for my friend Jade, who wanted to see the kids get chickenpox. I’m open to Irondad prompts, too. So feel free to leave me one.

Read on AO3

The spider bite came with some great perks, but it also came with some serious downsides that no one predicted. For example, his overactive immune system that instead of calmly taking care of viruses, amped up like the Hulk after someone stole Bruce’s last pint of ice cream.

Which was how it came to be that he was in his Hello Kitty pajama pants and long sleeve shirt trying not to scratch at the blisters littering his skin with Morgan beside him. They had chickenpox. Despite having been vaccinated herself, she’d managed to pick it somewhere and spread it to Peter. She wasn’t as nearly affected as him. Her case was mild, only a few spots dotted her neck and arms that didn’t bother her much. The pink splotches of calamine lotion covered each one, unlike Peter, who was practically painted in it. Much to his dismay, it did little for the itching. He was starting to think it was making things worse.

Overall, she was handling it like a champ. Peter, on the other hand, was not. He itched and wanted nothing more than to sandpaper his arms for some relief, and thanks to his haywire immune system, the virus was causing blisters in his throat and ears, too. To put it simply, he was miserable. The parts of him that didn’t itch, hurt or ache, and he felt generally lethargic and tired. A low-grade fever lingered just enough to make him chilled one minute and hot the next.

Whenever his fingers even twitched toward his skin to itch, Morgan would snap her gaze to him, giving him a disapproving stare. It was the perfect mix of Tony and Pepper.

Tony was making lunch, something Peter wasn’t looking forward to, and Morgan was observing him from the corner of her eye as she played tea party with her stuffed alpaca and raccoon. The raccoon was something that Rocket had gotten for Tony after the Thanos thing. Something about a build-a-bear. Peter didn’t ask.

A spot on his neck burned and tingled, and it was driving him crazy. He needed to scratch it. Checking that Morgan was distracted, he quickly reached up and itched the spot. It was both painful and soothing.

“Daddy!” Morgan’s voice cut through the air, and Peter blinked at her, caught red-handed. He lowered his hand from his neck, but it was too late. “Daddy! Peter’s itchin’ again.”

“Hey, Mo, not cool. I was barely touching it, see?” He turned his head to show her that it was fine.

She shook her head, forehead wrinkled as she scowled. “Mommy says that itchin’ ‘em will cause an ‘fection.”

Peter sighed as he heard Tony’s footsteps approaching. “Thanks, Mo.”

She shrugged and went back to her tea party.

Tony appeared beside the couch, a dishtowel draped over his shoulder. He put his hands on his hips, gaze raking over Peter. “Pete, you know you can’t itch. Do you need more calamine lotion?”

Peter laid his head back against the couch, trying to ignore all the tingling and prickling spots on his body that he wanted nothing more than to claw at. He let a breath out his nose and then rolled his head to the side to look at Tony. The action made his throat ache. “If you put any more on me, I’ll look like a bottle of Pepto. Isn’t there something you can do?”

Tony’s expression softened. “I wish there was, kiddo. It seems your weird immune system isn’t doing what we thought. It’s struggling with this one, so you’re just gonna have to suffer like the rest of us lowly humans.”

“It’s not fair. I was vaccinated.”

“And like Bruce said, maybe something about the bite reset your system. Either way, you’re sick, and you need to rest—no itching. I know it’s not fair.”

A small hand touched Peter’s knee and glanced down to see Morgan holding out a teacup. “I made you my special tea. It’ll make you feel better.”

Peter couldn’t help but smile as he took the cup from her. “Thanks, Mo Mo.” He took a pretend sip. “It’s good. Feel better already.” His voice was rough, though, from the blisters in his throat.

“Okay, well, lunch is ready, grilled cheese for Morguna and soup for Petey Pie,” Tony said, pausing to step closer to Peter, placing a hand on his forehead. He frowned. “And some more super-powered fever reducer for the spider-baby.”

Peter didn’t even argue, which said a lot about how crappy he was feeling. Following Morgan, he shuffled his way toward the kitchen, plopping down in a chair at the table. Morgan climbed into one across from him, kneeling in the seat. She was still too small to sit without a booster, but she refused to use one because Peter didn’t, and despite Tony offering to make him his very own booster seat, Peter declined, throwing his support behind Morgan.

Tony set a plate of grilled cheese in front of Morgan, cut diagonally, no crust, and a bowl of what looked like canned chicken noodle in front of him. Steam tickled Peter’s nose and made his stomach rumble. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and that was only applesauce and some scrambled eggs, foods soft enough not to scratch his sore throat.

His back began to itch again, not that it had really stopped, and he rubbed his back against the chair, much like a bear would a tree. His eyes slipped closed at the sensation, and he breathed out his mouth. A hand gripped his shoulder, though, making him stop. It was Tony, looking at him with one eyebrow raised.

“As good as it feels, it’s not gonna feel better if you tear them open, especially if you get an infection.”

Peter’s shoulders sagged, but he nodded, picking up his spoon and taking a sip of broth. Morgan was peeling her sandwich apart, picking the cheese out, and then eating the bread. Peter huffed a laugh, regretting it when it stung his throat. He went back to his soup, eating carefully. The warm broth soothed his stomach, but he was starting to feel worse. He hated to say it, but he needed a nap. Being up all morning had drained him.

Tony took a seat next to Peter, sliding two white pills across the table to Peter. “Few more bites of soup, and then I want you to take those. They’ll hopefully help you feel better, maybe you’ll be able to get some rest.”

“Doubt it, can’t sleep when it feels like ants are crawling all over me and biting my skin.”

Tony sighed. “If I could trade places you—with either of you—I would in a heartbeat.”

Peter nodded, swallowing some noodles with a wince. He took the pills and washed them down with the glass of juice Tony had brought him. He really hoped they started working soon. He knew they wouldn’t do anything for the itching, but maybe they would take the edge off the general achiness he was feeling. There weren’t many options for him, most things didn’t work for him since the bite, but Bruce had developed a few things for him, like the super-powered ibuprofen and the anesthetic he’d needed a few months back after being shot.

Soup mostly gone, Peter pushed the bowl away and leaned his elbows on the table, resting his aching head in his hands. Morgan was humming something beside him as she finished her lunch. He loved her, but the sound was making his head hurt even more. His senses seemed so much sharper since he got sick.

“Hey,” Tony said, carding his fingers through Peter’s hair, making Peter groan. “Why don’t we get you to the couch, or up to bed?”

Peter hummed in agreement and lifted his head, blinking tiredly at Tony. “This really sucks.”

“I know. Let’s get you tucked in. Maybe you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“Doubt it.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Not with that attitude.”

With Peter tucked into bed in his room, Tony pulled the door shut, leaving it just cracked, so he could hear him. He hated when either of his kids were sick but was thankful that at least Morgan was fairing pretty well. She hadn’t had her booster shot yet, so maybe that was how she contracted the illness, though her case was very mild. It didn’t seem like she’d be down long at all. Peter, though. Peter was a mess. Blisters covered him from head to toe and even inside his mouth and throat. Tony hadn’t seen him look this miserable before, and that was saying something, especially since he’d been there when Peter puked on his shoes after getting carsick on the way to the robotics conference in New Hampshire.

When Tony got back downstairs, Morgan was stretched out on the couch under her Iron Man blanket, watching Paw Patrol. With one last glance at the TV, he went to the kitchen to make a coffee and refuel. It was draining, taking care of two sick kids. He didn’t know how Pepper managed to take care of him for so many years.

Sipping his coffee, he pulled up his emails and started reading. There were a few things from Pepper that needed his attention, but nothing that couldn’t wait a day. As he finished his coffee, a muffled whine caught his attention, and he straightened, tilting his head to the side. He crossed back to the living room to check on Morgan, but she was sleeping, the TV still playing in the background.

A loud thump from upstairs had Tony bolting for the staircase, taking the steps two at a time despite how his knees protested. He went straight to Peter’s room, pushing the door open to see the kid sprawled out on the floor beside the bed in a tangle of blankets.

He went straight to his side, and as he got closer, he could hear Peter murmuring, but he couldn’t make out the words. Tony brushed a hand over his forehead, seeing the splotches of red that were highlighting his cheeks. He jerked in surprise when he felt how hot his skin was. His fever had gotten much worse. Cursing, Tony started trying to rouse him, but Peter just kept mumbling, fighting him as he tried to untangle him from the blankets.

“Easy, Pete, I’m just trying to help.”

“Ben?” Peter’s voice sounded small and broken, making Tony’s heart clench.

“No, kiddo, it’s Tony. We’re gonna get you back into bed, okay? Then I’m taking your temperature and calling Doctor Smashy.”

A tear rolled down Peter’s cheek as he nodded, seeming to understand. Tony wrapped an arm under Peter and helped him back onto the bed, pushing him to lay back. Peter complied, glassy eyes looking unfocused as he blinked. With him back in the bed, Tony darted to the bathroom and dug through the cabinet until he found the thermometer. He rushed back to Peter, seeing the kid as he left him, and held the thermometer to his ear for a second before it beeped.

Tony held it up, reading the digital display—102.4. His fever had gone up nearly three degrees from when he took it last, which was hours ago. He should have checked it sooner. The kid had felt warmer in the living room with Morgan. He shouldn’t have waited to give him his medicine.

A whimper drew Tony’s attention, and he looked down to see Peter’s face twisted in what looked like pain. Instinctively, he reached out and ran his thumb over his brow, smoothing the wrinkles.

“You’re safe. You’re okay. Everything’s gonna be alright, kiddo. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Peter’s mouth twitched, and then he relaxed again. Tony took that as his chance to check in with Bruce. He went out into the hall to make the call. After a short discussion, Bruce reassured him that Peter wasn’t in danger and that he might need another dose of the fever reducer sooner rather than later. They still hadn’t worked out all the kinks yet, and treating Peter was always a bit of a guessing game as to what would work. Peter’s healing factor could be a bit of a wild card at times, and so was how he metabolized meds.

When Tony slipped back into the room, he found Peter sleeping, so he tucked him in and went back downstairs to check on Morgan.

When Peter awoke, his eyes were sticky, and he had to rub them open. Looking around, he could see it was dark outside. He still felt crappy, but nowhere near as bad as before. His skin didn’t feel like fire ants were gnawing on him anymore, so there was that. He pushed himself up in bed, leaning back against the headboard, pillow lumped under his back. He yawned for the first time in two days without wincing in pain. The door opened, letting light in from the hall, and Tony stepped into the room, wearing a pair of sweats and his Metallica shirt. He looked exhausted, though he brightened at seeing Peter up.

“How’re you feeling?” Tony asked, crossing the room and turning on the light.

“Better, I guess.”

Tony pressed his palm to Peter’s forehead and then the back of his hand to his cheek. “I think the fever’s gone, and looking at you, I think your spots are fading, too.”

“How’s Mo?”

“She’s still a little itchy, but she’s a trooper.”

“What time is it?” Peter asked.

“A little after four. Sun should be up in a few hours. You’ve been sleeping a while.”

Peter glanced at the window and then back to Tony. His dreams had been strange, a mixture of Spider-Man and school, and of course, Ben. He’d dreamt about his uncle, and the ache from his loss lingered in the room. Frowning, he looked down at his hands that were twisting the sheet between them.

“You okay?” Tony asked, sitting on the bed. He placed a hand over Peter’s, stopping him from tearing the sheet.

Peter shrugged. “I guess. I mean, I’m fine. It’s no big deal.”

“I thought we were past pretending. I can tell something’s bothering you. What’s wrong?”

“It’s dumb because it’s been so long. It’s stupid that I haven’t let it go.”

“What is?”

“I dreamt about him—about Ben—and it felt so real. He was taking care of me like he used to when I was little.”

Tony squeezed Peter’s hands. “I can promise you, kid, Ben has never stopped looking out for you.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Peter sniffed, tears threatening to make an appearance. “It’s stupid, though.”

“It’s not. Ben, your parents, they will always be part of you. It’s not stupid to dream, Peter.”

Peter nodded, feeling his grip on his emotion slipping. Tony seemed to sense it and nudged him to move over, sliding in next to him. Tony put an arm around him and pulled him close, so his head was on Tony’s chest. Peter could hear his heart beating, and the sound grounded him. He drifted off to sleep with Tony beside him, carding his fingers through his hair.  

[quicklime-girl-blog]

alpaca pillows sale alpacas for sale in devon 2014 alpacas for sale cumbria free knitting patterns using baby alpaca yarn alpaca wool throw peru

[elisaphoenix13]

(AT) To Bring Them Home

A more in depth version of Remembering The Departed (but with Harley and Cassie added so other fics fit).

"Hey Mama Bear. If you find this recording, don't post it on social media. It's gonna be a real tear jerker." Tony sighs heavily and leans back against the wall of the ship. " It's not like you're ever going to see these anyway. I watched you fade to nothing in front of me after all. You and Peter. I guess I'm recording these for my own sanity. It helps to pretend you're getting these messages. Totally lame right?"

The engineer clears his parched throat. He was desperate for anything to moisten his mouth at this point.

"Today's day twenty-one? No. Twenty-two. You know if it wasn't for the existential terror of staring into the literal void of space, I'd say I'm feeling a little better today. The infection has run its course thanks to the blue meanie back there." He weakly motions to Nebula somewhere in the vicinity behind him. "Oh you'd love her. Very practical. Only a tiny bit sadistic."

Stephen probably would like the cyborg. He may have been cautious of her at first, but if she treated the kids well, the sorcerer would have immediately warmed up  to Nebula. The poor woman just needed a friend.

"So the fuel cells were cracked during battle and we figured out a way to reverse the ion charge by ourselves and bought 48 hours of flight time. But it's now dead in the water a thousand light years from the nearest 7-11. Oxygen will run out tomorrow morning, and that'll be it." Tony rubs his eyes. "It looks like...well you know what it looks like. Don't feel bad about this. I mean actually if you grovel for a couple weeks and then move on with enormous guilt..." He trails off as he fights off the impending lure of sleep.

"I should probably lie down for a minute. Rest my eyes. If by some miracle I make it back home, the first thing I'm going to do is look for Harley and Diana. God I hope they're still at home. If I go home and they're gone too...I don't know what I'm going to do." He would very likely off himself but he didn't need to say that. Tony was sure that if somehow, Stephen was able to see these messages, he would know. "Please know, when I drift off, it'll be like every night lately. I'm fine...totally fine. I dream about you. God it's always you." Tony says with a broken whisper.

He was hungry, dehydrated, and lost in space with a robotic woman and for once he looked forward to sleep. Dreams of Stephen and their family was his only salvation in this terrible situation he found himself in. He was already hallucinating blue butterflies, and he tried to touch one the first time he saw it, but it had disappeared as soon as his fingers went through the illusion. Tony just ignored them after that. He never asked Nebula if she saw them, because he knew the answer would be a 'no', and she would watch him like a hawk.

With a sigh, he shuts off the recording mechanism in his helmet and pulls on a jacket before laying down. This would quite possibly be the last time his eyes would be open, but at least when he went, it would be to pleasant dreams. Dreams, and the part of him that believed that the blue butterfly settling on the arm he was laying on, was Stephen watching over him.

________________________

Carol had miraculously come across them and took them back to Earth, and once an IV was shoved into him, the remaining Avengers held a meeting. Tony really just wanted to keep to his promise and looks for his other two kids, but he also needed to know who else they had lost. Picture after picture popped up on the multiple screens in the meeting room at the compound, and Tony had to hold himself together when Stephen and Peter's picture came up. He almost lost it when Harley's appeared as well, but then the pictures stopped and the screens vanished.

He never saw Diana and that made him jump to his feet and almost fall over from how weak he was. Pepper had to step forward and steady him as he points a shaky finger as the previous location of the screens.

"D-Diana?" He mentally curses when he stumbles over the single word. "Where...is she...is she alive?"

Steve steps over to his other side to help keep him steady, and offers him a small smile. "She's alive. Out of all of the kids, she and Cassie are still here."

Tony nearly sobs with relief. "Clint and Scott?"

Natasha frowns. "Neither of them are responding to any of our calls. We have to assume they were victims too."

"I want to see my daughter." The engineer whispers, and Pepper gently rubs his back.

"You will, but you need rest."

"I'll rest when I..." Tony blinks away the black spots forming in his vision and the room begins to spin. "When I--"

Then he collapsed. The little bit of effort he had put into talking and standing was too much for his body, and it forced him to rest. He slept for two days without waking, but he woke up on third day and Rhodey all but forced him to eat. In any or he scenario he would have fought, but Diana was alive and all he cared about was seeing her. Tony caved when his best friend promised he could see her as soon as he ate, and he did. He ate as much as he could stomach and Rhodey kept to his promise by having Natasha bring Diana to him. Big blue eyes brightened when his six-month-old daughter saw him and she squealed happily as she reached out for him.

"Dada!"

That one simple word was what broke Tony when he finally got to hold his baby girl. She was all he had left if his family. His husband was gone, his two sons were gone, and half of his friends were gone too. He was broken and tired and wanted to get away from it all. All of the memories.

So as soon as he was able again, Tony took Diana and Cassie with him to a lake house he bought. Cassie's mother and stepfather were out of reach since they had been traveling over seas when the snap happened, so they didn't know if they were even alive. Scott was MIA as well, but Tony promised to take care of her. She was surprisingly happy that the engineer told her to get her things and she did without a fuss.

Tony watched Diana and Cassie grow up over the next five years. As Cassie got older, she helped with Diana and eventually took a liking to cooking and baking that she was starting to throw Tony out of his own kitchen. Like now.

"You're kicking me out of my own kitchen?! You have a lot of nerve Miss Sass." Tony moves away from the island counter and accidently knocks a glass cup off of it and watches it fall and shatter on the ground. "Shit."

Cassie giggles. "That is exactly why. How did you manage to feed us before I took over?"

Tony picks up the broken glass with a towel and dumps it all in the trash bin. "I'll have you know I made dinner plenty of times. I make a mean sauce. Even Peter drank--"

He immediately clams up at the mention of his youngest son. Tony locked those memories away tears ago, but every once in a while, one would slip through. What were once pleasant dreams when he was dying in space, now haunted him in the safety of his home. In his dreams and just looking at Diana. She reminded him of Stephen every day and it was hard to ignore. She even inherited the man's cheeky mouth.

Cassie learned how to read him over the five years they lived at the lake house, and she could tell that talk to him about his family wasn't a good idea right now. "Can you see if there are any raspberries left? They would be good in the salad."

Tony scoffs. "If there are any left."

"With the way your alpaca eats them I wouldn't be surprised if they were gone!"

"My alpaca? You and Dia were the ones that wanted a pet!"

"Yeah! Like a cat! But you had to be extra and come home with a freaking alpaca!" Cassie snarks as she points a knife in his direction and Tony holds his hands up.

"He has a name." The engineer says with a smirk.

"Gerald is a terrible name." Cassie throws a walnut at his head, and narrows her eyes when Tony catches it in his mouth. "Check for berries."

"I've adopted a slave-driver."

Cassie sniggers as he walks out the back door and he pats Gerald's head as he passes by the mammal and into the garden. It was Cassie's idea and he had to admit it was nice having fresh vegetables and berries a few feet away, even if he had to beat their pet alpaca to them. The girls wanted a cat, but it only would have reminded him of Tibbs, and even the poor cat had been a victim of the snap. He just wasn't ready for another one. Tibbs was a pretty awesome cat and Tony kind of missed him sometimes.

"Alright Gerald, I hope you left us some raspberries or we'll both be in the dog house." Two more steps and he found a plant full of the berries. "Small miracles." He glances over at the blanket fort a few feet away and smiles. "Princess Diana! Come help me pick berries!"

"I'm coloring Daddy!" Diana shouts from inside her fort and Tony chuckles quietly. She definitely had Stephen's snark, and she even said it in an exasperated tone.

"I guess you don't get Cassie's chocolate chip cookies for dessert!"

A loud groan follows and Tony grins as Diana comes out of her fort and joins her father. "It was important."

"Oh yeah? Well you'll have to finish after dinner."

Diana doesn't argue any further and the two of them pick enough berries to fill a small container that Tony gives the responsibility of holding to his daughter. A couple of raspberries disappear into her mouth and Tony gives her a fond look as he wipes away some of the juice at the corner of her mouth before it stains. Sass aside, he was lucky that Diana was so well behaved. She even stopped asking about her mother and brothers because she didn't like the forlorn look Tony always wore when they were brought up, but he was also pretty sure that Cassie was telling her instead. Tony always kicked himself over that. Diana should be able to ask him without worrying about him getting upset over it, but instead her pseudo-sister was telling her the stories. Sometimes Pepper, Happy, and the other Avengers whenever they had time to stop by.

"Don't fill up Little Miss. You think we have enough?"

Diana nods. "Uh-huh."

"Alright. Let's get these back in to the Alpha Female if we want to have dinner. I can smell it from here." He kisses her on the cheek before standing back up and lifting Diana into his arms, and he stops next to Gerald when the exit the garden. "Give one to our loyal guard alpaca."

The five year old grabs a raspberry from the container in her hands and gives it to Gerald who eats it out of her hand happily and thanks her with a nuzzle. With that done, Tony walks back toward the house until he hears the unmistakable sound of tires crunching over gravel. He and Diana look at each other before Tony makes his way around the house to the driveway, and his eyes widen when Scott all but falls out of the car in his haste to get out. Steve and Natasha followed after him as the ex-criminal approaches the billionaire and Diana pushes Tony's mouth closed.

"Scott?" Tony wonders with surprise.

"Cassie? Is she here? They said she was here." The man rambles, but before Tony could even reply, the front door opened and Cassie stepped out.

"Daddy?"

Scott's head whips around and the fifteen year old girl immediately runs over to him and hugs him tightly. Everyone else watches the small reunion as Scott hold his daughter close, and he eventually moves away to study his grown daughter.

"You're so big!" Scott looks Cassie over for a few more seconds and then sniffs the air. "Is that food? Oh my god, I'm starving."

Both Cassie and Tony laugh. "You have good timing Thumbelina. You guys can stay for dinner and tell us where the hell you've been."

"Good, because according to Nat and the Cap, I literally haven't eaten for five years."

Tony looks over at the other two adults. "Dinner?"

Natasha smiles. "Only if I get the baby."

"You heard her Little Miss. Go to Auntie Nat." The engineer says as he takes the container of berries and Diana happily goes to Natasha before they head inside.

Scott was quiet for the majority of dinner because he was too busy eating, but when he eventually slowed down so he could at least breath and taste his food, he told them where he had been. The Quantum Realm. What felt like an hour to him had been five years, so when he finally escaped, he was confused when he saw all the missing posters and the monuments with the names of the Snap victims. He explained that he went straight to the tower but when he found he empty, he went to the compound where he found Steve and Natasha. He told them the same thing he was telling Tony and they jumped right back into the car and came straight to the lake house when he asked about Cassie.

Steve clears his throat and Tony watches Natasha suspiciously when she mumbles in Russian and herds Diana away from the table after dinner. An adult conversation was coming up and he wasn't sure whether or not he was glad that the assassin took the initiative to distract his daughter. As soon as the two were out of ear shot, Scott opened his mouth again.

"Tony...we think we can reverse what happened. Bring everyone back."

His breath catches in his throat. "What?"

"Like I told you, it only felt like an hour in the Quantum Realm for me when realistically it's been five years. Time works differently there. Maybe if we can manipulate it--"

"You're talking about a time machine." Tony interrupts.

Steve grimaces. "For lack of a better word, yes."

"I can't take that chance." Scott opens his mouth again but Tony cuts him off and points toward the direction Natasha and Diana disappeared to. "She is all I have left. I can't risk that for a chance. Diana is the only reason I'm even still here!" He admits and the other two men wince and Cassie frowns. "I lost my wife, and my two sons. I can't lose her too."

The three stare at each other in silence until Diana and Natasha return, and Tony's heart clenches when he finds a familiar leather book in his daughter's hands.

Peter's photo album.

"Where..." The mechanic starts and Scott sighs.

"I told you I went to the tower. I grabbed that just in case." He says quietly as Diana sets the album on the table in front of Tony.

"Tony...at least look through it." Steve says quietly. "Even if you still don't want to help, you and Diana both deserve those memories."

Cassie places her hand on the album and pushes it closer to Tony. "I think it's a good idea."

Tony sighs. "Even Miss Sass is ganging up on me."

He reluctantly agrees though and they all eat their dessert of cookies before everyone sans Tony retires to bed. He offered for them to stay since it was a long drive back, and they accepted gratefully. Cassie was nice enough to take Diana to bed since she knew the little girl's schedule and Tony had gone into the makeshift lab to look through the photo album. Not until he had FRIDAY working on potential ways to be able to use the Quantum Realm as a time machine though. He highly doubted they would find anything, but he could at least say he tried. Looking through the album was hard but it was necessary if he was going to have to tell Diana the stories behind each picture. His daughter deserved that much if FRIDAY couldn't--

"Test run successful Boss."

Tony's head snaps up to the hologram and he drops the album so he can cover his mouth in disbelief. He did it. He found a way to time travel. Something he never thought possible if he were honest. A Time Stone was one thing, but a machine? Even he had been skeptical.

"Shit."

That one single word about summed everything up.

He could bring his family back.

[moodrose]

Thank you for the tag @thatfeanorian ! ♥

1. What is the color of your hairbrush? black, i’m boring

2. Name a food you never eat: i don’t eat red meat anymore so i guess that qualifies here

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold? i feel like i’m always too warm or too cold... but maybe too cold usually?

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? watching tv

5. What’s your favorite candy bar? fazer blue chocolate with raspberry filling :3

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports game? yeah, i’ve been to a few hockey, football, and soccer games

7. What is the last thing you said out loud? hmm i was practicing my presentation for work tomorrow earlier today, so probably something about my data

8. What is your favorite ice cream? vanilla (:

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? orange juice

10. Do you like your wallet? yes, because it has pictures of colorful alpacas on it

11. What is the last thing you ate? sandwich

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? no

13. What’s the last sporting event you watched? uhhh i have no clue. but my money’s on hockey because that’s what people usually watch from tv around here

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? butter

15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to? my tinder match (:

16. Ever been camping? a few times yeah

17. Do you take vitamins? very rarely because i always forget i have them

18. Do you regularly attend a place of worship? no

19. Do you have a tan? ghjhjgf i’m finnish so nope

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? pizza

21. Do you drink your soda through a straw? if i order it from somewhere

22. What color socks do you usually wear? all colors, but maybe black most often

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? i don’t have a driver’s license

24. What terrifies you? humiliation

25. Look to your left, what do you see? my bed

26. What chore do you hate most? cleaning the drain

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? some guy with a red hat XD

28. What’s your favorite soda? dr pepper

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? i can’t drive so i just walk in

30. What’s your favorite number? 9

31. Who’s the last person you talked to? my thesis supervisor

32. Favorite meat? if fish and chicken count i’d say salmon

33. Last song you listened to? ellie goulding - power

34. Last book you read? joe abercrombie - the trouble with peace

35. Favorite day of the week? friday

36. Can you say the alphabet backwards? umm yes?

37. How do you like your coffee? with no-fat milk and one spoonful of sugar

38. Favorite pair of shoes? my gray slip-ons which are super old and broken but i don’t wanna throw them away because they’re too comfy

39. Time you usually get up? 8-9 ish?

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunset? sunset (because i’m rarely awake at sunrise hahaha)

41. How many blankets on your bed? 1

42. Describe your kitchen plates: white ikea plates

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment: a lot of unwashed dishes there

44. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? pear cider

45. Do you play cards? yes

46. What color is your car? don’t have one

47. Can you change a tire? no

48. Favorite state or province? i used to live in colorado so i guess it’s that

49. Favorite job you’ve had? i work in academia and so far i’m enjoying this!

50. I tag: i will SLEEEEEP so if you are not a sleepy baby like me please consider yourself tagged!