#teeny weeny newborn

[those-pony-vibes]

G1 My Little Pony teeny weeny newborn (for sale) | Instagram | Toys For Sale

[kittyball23]

Hey, Kittyball23,

I was wondering if you could post part 2 of "Taking the News"? Though, I am waiting patiently for it to post, and I gave you time to write the fanfiction I was hoping that you will post it whenever you're finished.

After you post it, can you write another fanfiction of the very SPECIAL DAY when Poppy and Branch's baby was BORN?! (Or maybe include a baby shower scene and a BIG CELEBRATION of their FIRST NEWBORN CHILD?!?! 🥰😁🥳🎉👶🎉) If so, I would be very grateful. ☺️ (Don't forget to include their friends and families as well.) If not, that's okay. I understand you have like a few other requests from others for Trolls fanfiction stories. But, I gave you plenty of time you needed.

Thank you. Sincerely, Ceci-Butterfly 🦋

Part 2 👇

Taking the News - Branch Edition (a Trolls fanfic)

Branch scrunched his nose, considering the fact that there were a number of better things to be doing than willingly being in the presence of a vomiting individual.

But, when that said individual was Poppy, he put aside the feelings of distaste as best he could and focused on making sure none of the rainbow-colored, glittery substance got onto her hair.

He held back the pink strands delicately away from her face and grimaced more than a few times at the combination of her retching, and just how much she had heaved.

While it had felt like forever, Poppy finally was able to get herself under control, and sat back with an exhausted sigh. Branch eyed her with a raised brow, and the Pop Queen felt sheepish upon the question that he presented.

“So… the stomach bug is all gone, huh?”

She fiddled with her fingers and looked down. “Um, well…” A nervous titter came out, and then she gave up. “Oops.”

Branch sighed. “It's not ‘oops,’ Poppy. If you were still sick, you could've told me. It hardly takes anything for me to go get you something to treat it. Dr. Moonbloom has plenty of supplies!”

“I know, Branch,” she said meekly, “I just didn't want you to worry…”

“You don't want me to worry?” he repeated incredulously. “Well, now I am. If this thing's not gone by now, it could be something serious!”

But to his surprise, Poppy was not as overly concerned as he would've figured. As a matter of fact, she got shy, and spoke her next words bashfully. “It's, um, not as serious as you might think…” Poppy almost wanted to laugh at the deadpanned expression he donned in that next second, but she knew better than to do so. He was clearly under the worst impressions of her health. Which meant it was finally time to come clean. “Look, Branch, there's something I have to tell you about… or, um, I guess I should say someone.”

Branch crossed his arms. “Okay, what exactly are you talking about, Poppy? What do you mean ‘someone’?”

“Oh, you know,” she said, attempting to sound matter-of-fact, “someone teeny and weeny, and cute as heck… assuming he or she comes out looking like you.”

Wait… what? Branch blinked, his brain making the connections it had to make in order to fully comprehend the situation and its full truth. The unexpected vomiting, the shyness in Poppy’s voice, the mentions of a mysterious ‘someone’ by themselves didn’t quite make as much sense as they did when he considered them all together. And, to add further confirmation for what he was coming to conclude, she slowly lifted a hand and allowed it to rest on her belly, her gaze shifting down at it first before it met his.

“Branch,” she whispered softly, “I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I guess I just wasn't sure how, but, uh... I'm... um..."

"Pregnant," he finished, the tone in his voice mystified. 

Poppy nodded. "Yeah."

Silence settled between them for what seemed like an eternity as Branch processed this. He supposed it made sense, with how, er… active he and Poppy had been in the more intimate aspects of their relationship. But still, the idea of becoming a father was rather jarring; one that left him wondering if he was ready for that kind of responsibility and commitment that he never figured would be in the cards for him in the first place! And yet...

I'm going to be a dad... 

His gaze softened, and without thinking he reached out a hand toward her belly, where it still lay quite flat. He lightly brushed his fingertips over the slight swell that was there, the Troll marveling at the fact that it would one day be the very life that they'd created, running around singing songs like his (or her!) mother or crazily preparing like his (or her!) father. A perfect product, a wondrous blend between him and her that could only result from something as strong as their love. It almost felt surreal, like a dream. Like he'd suddenly been thrust into a completely new reality in which things went beyond what he thought possible, in the best way possible.

A soft sound escaped him, akin to a breathy chuckle, and his eyes glistened with moisture.  The hand withdrew from Poppy's stomach to rest on top of hers instead, as a smile - growing increasingly wider upon his lips - pulled at his cheeks. "Poppy, I-" He cut himself off abruptly, unsure exactly WHAT he could say in this circumstance that could voice everything he felt at the moment. How excited he was, how proud, how honored he was for having been given the opportunity to experience such joy, and most importantly, how he loved her with every fiber of his being, even more than he could possibly go on to explain.  However, the only thing he could seem to articulate in a simple, and rather dumbfounded manner was…

“Poppy, you're PREGNANT!”

And, despite the telltale chime of their bracelets that was usually indicative of Hug Time not ringing, Branch swept Poppy in for an embrace, his arms wrapped snugly around her waist, careful not to press too firmly against the abdomen carrying their precious bundle. Poppy giggled joyfully and returned the hug with a great enthusiasm, the bubbly feeling within her heart overflowing and making itself known through laughter and tears, neither one being able to be kept in check. "Oh, Branch," she cooed, her voice sounding slightly choked with emotion, "this is just so.... so...."

He lifted his head from where he'd nuzzled it against the crook of her neck to give her smirk, blue eyes twinkling playfully. "Fantast-amazing?" he suggested.

The mention of her sister's favorite phrase made Poppy gasp. "Oh, Branch!" she said again, this time  with more urgency and excitement. "Viva! And John Dory, and Bruce, and Clay, and Floyd!" she spewed, each name tumbling out in a rush. "Oh my goodness, we should tell them!!"

Branch's face lit. "Yeah!" he was quick to agree, the elated mood that gripped him too much for him to contain.

"Uh-huh!" Poppy agreed. "But first - "

She interrupted herself, by grabbing him by the vest and pulling him in for a sweet kiss. Branch melted, obliging happily to her and relishing the sensation. For once he couldn't bring himself to fret over the sudden change in their lives, and all the worrying over the crazy preparations he would go on to make in order to ensure everything went absolutely flawless with their parenting. Branch simply enjoyed his moment of bliss as he let it flow through his entire being, letting him revel in the feeling of his and Poppy's euphoria.

Their family was going to get bigger, and he was beyond thrilled for what wonderful surprises lay ahead!

[marmiteprinter]

In the middle of the night, somewhat overdue, Monique went into labour. Jennifer literally leapt in shock.

"What do you need, Monique? What shall I do?" she asked frantically.

Monique just screamed.

Soon, their nooboo was born! Welcome to the world, little Elliott Hansen-Wiggins! His mums have changed both of their names to the double-barrelled Hansen-Wiggins now as well. From his baby face template, it looks like he maybe has Monique's eyes and Jennifer's mouth and teeny weeny nose. We’ll have to see how that suits his face as he ages!

They fed him and put him straight to bed in the crib they had purchased from Kyle's store, before both falling straight back to sleep in exhaustion.

That brings us to the end of Round 5. Jen woke up to feed and change little Elliott the next morning while she allowed her wife to rest a bit more.

At the end of Spring, Jen is now 44, Monique is 34 and Elliott is a newborn. They've unlocked the Law career for anyone with a PoliSci degree (eventually) and Monique is working on building up her business until she reaches Level 5, at which point she'll be able to take a job in the Business career track and start working on her LTW.

The next family are the Hudsons (formerly the Mackenzies), who we left on a bit of a cliffhanger last time. Let's see what's happening!

[mdecredico]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NWT -☀️ Koala Kids Newborn Bikini.

[intriga-hounds]

Hello! From your experience being around newborn puppies, bigger puppies and grown-up puppies, what is your experience, can a teeny-weenie puppy's personality or base character be concluded even this early? (Like when looking for a puppy, is it a good indicator of their personality how they are behaving very young?)

not really! you can tell some really big broad strokes things. for example, the last time paloma had a litter, it was just a week after olive had had her litter. ponzu and her siblings were waaaaay quieter and more lowkey than the loma babies right from the start. those things can change, ofc, but that’s an example of being able to see a big general trait that ended up holding true.

it would be silly to try to select a dog for things like drive, temperament, biddability, and structure at this age. these things become clearer at 8-12 weeks, but even then you should assume you’ll get surprises as the dog matures. a temperament or structural evaluation at these ages is also just one snapshot on one day in one location. your breeder will have the best idea of who each puppy is, based not just on their daily behavior but also on that of their parents. but even then, nothing is a guarantee. you’re just making the best educated guess with the information that you have.

[hazbincalifornia]

Stolas is afraid that newborn Stella will scratch herself with her teeny weeny claws that he puts on little mittens he made himself. Blitzo is confused as to why his baby is wearing mittens when its not cold outside.

It's that or claw caps! She looks very cute in her baby mittens, though, and her skin's a bit more delicate than baby imp skin would be, so it's warranted.

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

I drew an itsy bitsy teenie weenie tiny Namekian baby ❤ I tried to give him that gangly little newborn look. And here's some headcanons about namek babies nobody asked for ! 🌠

-they develop the skin patches at puberty, we saw baby piccolo hatch without them

-they hatch with bitty little claws that they use to break the shell, but they need to be trimmed by their parents (or have thick gloves on) so they don't scratch themselves, just like human babies

-their eggs are laid after 2 months and take approx. 6 months to hatch

-they like being held and sung to in their eggs, their sensitive ears allow them to hear it and they can sense the energy of whoever is holding them ❤

-they all sound like DB baby Gremlin Piccolo™️ for like a few months no I don't take criticism

-they don't know how to control their telepathy and will project thoughts and images into other people's heads if their antennae are out, but will also be able to see your thoughts if you aren't careful so put a hat on them or keep bad vibes FAR away

-(I also hc this is why Namekians cover their heads, so their antennae don't pick up other people's thoughts all the time. It is both rude and annoying to have to listen to everyone's thoughts lol)

I can't think of anything else but I hope people like this :,)

[aloysiavirgata]

Love’s Austere and Lonely Offices

Title:  Love’s Austere and Lonely Offices

Author: Aloysia Virgata

Rating: PG 

Words: 5758

Timeline: Season 9

Summary:   “ A letter is in fact the only device for combining solitude and good company.” -- Jacques Barzun

Author’s Notes: This fic was written in 2015. I couldn't bear the thought of their only communication in all that time being the "Dearest Dana" letters. (Which I added to just a teeny-weeny bit. Also added a little to Scully's Carterlogue to William.) Scully quotes from (what else?) Moby Dick and Mulder from The Divine Comedy. The title is from Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden. 

Fe3O4 is magnetite and R2NCl is chloramine. I know my little ads are cryptic, so there's an addendum at the end for those interested parties. (See the end of the work for more notes.)  

Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, May 26 2001 In this world, shipmates, Sin that pays its way can travel freely, and without a passport; whereas Virtue, if a pauper, is stopped at all frontiers. R2NCl + H2O = Bellefleur + Braddock Heights? So claims a woman with node at C5 **** Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, May 29 2001 These have not the hope to die. Developments? Nothing on my end. **** E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 18 Jun 2001 Things are calm for now and hopefully communication can be somewhat regular for a time. I have a cash-under-the-table job at the moment and it covers basic needs. I know you wanted to come, but this is no life for a child. I will be home as soon as I am able. I know that goes without saying, but it makes me feel better to say it anyway. I have to go now. Tell me about William. **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 18 Jun 2001 Mulder, It's so good to hear from you, you have no idea. Have you made any progress yet? There have been strange goings-on since you left, but I don't know what to make of any of it. I don't know whom to trust right now and just tell everyone I cannot contact you. I have not been able to make any sense of my last inquiry and am at a standstill. Please tell me everything you discover and let me know what I can do. Don't leave me in the dark on this, Mulder. You can't protect us that way. Let me be of use. Things are fine here. William eats well and sleeps less well, but I nap when I can. He's growing nicely and can focus his eyes for very long periods already and tracks objects at two feet away. His head control is excellent and he is already making deliberate reaches for objects rather than just grasping reflexively. He makes a gurgling sound if I run my finger up the midline of his foot. In addition to snapshots and videos, I have been keeping a journal of all of his changes for when you get back. My mother helps as much as she can but the truth is I prefer to be alone. She wants to talk, and doesn't understand that I just can't right now. I think she's afraid of the quiet and fills it up with noise. She talks to me but doesn't say anything. You know how to let me be silent, Mulder. I miss that. Frohike says William looks like me and Byers says he looks like you and Langly says he looks like Jack Ruby. Which is pretty much what you'd expect to hear from the three of them. Write when you can. Pictures attached. **** E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 22 Jun 2001 He still looks like Skinner to me, your feeble protestations of fidelity aside. He's got your eyes, Scully, and I wonder whose warped sense of humor he's going to claim. I'm not surprised he's ahead of the developmental curve. You read him Brian Greene while you were pregnant. That sets the bar rather high for a baby. Let your mother in. You're all she has nearby and she won't forgive herself for everything that's happened if you don't. Smile and nod, Scully. You do it better than anyone I know. Learn to let people love you. I haven't found much yet because I don't even know what the hell I'm looking for. **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 23 Jun 2001 We can only hope that his sense of humor is all his own. I think our particular brand of amusement wouldn't go over too well with the preschool set. Can you imagine Career Day, Mulder? We're going to have to be vague. Pictures of William attached, including one of him eating my hair. Have to run. Stay safe. **** E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 28 Jun 2001 We'd be a hit at Career Day. You could tell them about your Invisible Guy Autopsy. And you know all the kids would want to hear about my time in low orbit. I'm leaving here soon, so it may be a while before I contact you again. Thank you for the pictures. I cannot believe how William has grown. He looks like his own man now instead of just a newborn. I know I once said I never saw you as a mother before, but I must not have been paying attention. You're beautiful, Scully. I miss you both constantly. **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 29 Jun 2001 Mulder, I hope nothing serious has happened to necessitate this move and that you have made some headway. I am still having no luck. I'm going to start teaching at Quantico soon. I feel like I'm abandoning you in some way, Mulder. Abandoning our work. But I can't do field work like I used to - not with William - and Doggett and Reyes are doing a good job. I think you'd be impressed. William has been going to sleep at around 10 at night and sleeping until 6 or so. He is such an easy baby and already a hit with the ladies. I bring him to work sometimes and he's quite popular. Skinner gave him a stuffed McGruff the Crime Dog, but he prefers the doll you gave him and sleeps with it now. He's still rather small for the basketball, but that was never my sport anyway. I played field hockey, so free-throw instruction falls to you. Attached is a video of William laying on Skinner's desk. Stay safe. **** E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 19 Jul 2001 He spit up on Skinner's desk? I could watch that all day. You're damned lucky it wasn't Kersh's or you'd be freezing your ass off in a Minnesota field office right now. And of course he's a hit with the ladies, Scully. Not everyone's as hard of a sell on the Mulder men as you. I made it to Wal-Mart and printed out some of those pictures you sent. Keep them coming. Don't ever feel like you're abandoning the work. The most important thing is that you and William stay safe and chasing mutants and government conspirators isn't really conducive to that. Sometimes the only thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that you're okay. The job at Quantico will be good for you both. I'm doing a little air guitar of "Hot For Teacher" right now… **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 23 Jul 2001 Mulder, I'm sorry it has taken me a bit to get back to you. My mother and I took William to the beach for a couple of days. I dipped his feet in the surf and I was reminded that seawater has a similar chemical makeup to both blood and amniotic fluid. We crawled from those primordial seas so many millions of years ago and carry some of it inside of us to this day. I know you get seasick, but I think we are hardwired to crave the ocean and I want to take William sailing when he's older. I think he has the genes for it. You may not be a sailor, Mulder, but you know the unquenchable lure of the unknown and thrill of riding out a storm. I had a good time with my mom and tried to do as you suggested. She asked after you and I am confident that whatever else she thinks of my life, she accepts that you're an integral part of it. I start teaching next month and I must confess to some anxiety. It has been so long since I stood in front of a lecture hall. I've gotten used to an audience of one for my technical soliloquies. And Van Halen, Mulder? Really? What happened to the King? **** E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 4 Aug 2001 Was it Chincoteague, Scully? It's right around Pony Penning Day, isn't it? When he's bigger we'll get a place out in the country and let him pick out a pony of his own. And hell, I'll take some Dramamine and we'll all go sailing too. Get out your list-making paper and get to work. I'll be back soon and we'll have the rest of our lives to get it done. P.S. - I always kind of got turned on by your technical soliloquies, so you may want to be careful around some of your more discriminating students. **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 5 Aug 2001 Mulder, We went to Assateague, actually, but he did see the ponies and we found horseshoe crabs washed up on the shore. Despite 445 million years of existence, they've scarcely changed at all. It makes you think, I suppose. All the work we humans do to better ourselves and horseshoe crabs have attained perfection. And a pony?! That's a pretty heavy upgrade from your fish. I was thinking we could move more slowly from Cyprinidae to Perissodactyla. Perhaps a stop at Rodentia would be appropriate if you want to venture into mammalian territory. (Are you getting turned on by this?) William holds his head up and looks around without any trouble at all. He wants desperately to sit up and is so frustrated that he can't manage it yet. Any news? **** Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, August 13, 2001 For where the instrument of intelligence is added to brute power and evil will, mankind is powerless in its own defense. Fe3O4 + R2NCl = ? **** Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, August 15, 2001 And some certain significance lurks in all things, else all things are little worth... I'll let you know if I hear anything. **** E-Mail From: knitterific@earthlink.net To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 20 Aug 2001 Let me know if we can move lunch on Wednesday to 12:30. I printed out pictures from our trip and made you some copies. I will bring William's Celeste Sun toy with me at lunch if that's okay with you. Charlie, Larissa and the kids are coming in for Christmas this year. Talk to you soon. Mom **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: knitterific@earthlink.net Date: 21 Aug 2001 Mom, That would be fine. Thank you for printing the pictures for me, and William will be fine without Celeste until Wednesday. **** Letter received on September 8, 2001 William Mulder 107 E. Cordova St. Apt. 35 Washington, DC., 01833 8-14-01 Dear William, I can only hope this finds its way to you but even if it doesn't, it's something I had to get on paper. Walking away from you and your mother is the single most difficult thing I have ever done in my life. I did it for reasons that I tell myself are right and noble, so why do I feel like I've let you both down? All I want is for you to be safe and I tell myself that leaving and searching for answers is the best way to do that. But the truth is, William, that your old man isn't making much headway here. Your mother sends me pictures and videos of you and sometimes at night I can close my eyes and recall your new-earthling smell. But it's not the same. I know your mother and I know that every night she shows you my picture and tells you I'll be home soon. I don't want to make a liar of her and I promise you both I'm doing the best I can. Every day I fight the urge to let this all go and come home, but I feel I have more to accomplish before I return. One day I hope you will understand all of this. One day I hope I will. I have no real wisdom to offer you, but let me at least tell you this. I have made many mistakes in my life, but through them all, I have tried to do what I feel is honest. And I have learned - as you doubtlessly will - that the right thing is not often the easy thing. I don't know what this world is going to be like when you are older or what role you will have in it, but to thine own self be true, William. I hope to see you soon. And in case your mother forgets to tell you: Elvis > Three Dog Night Hips before hands The Knicks will always be better than the Miami Heat Love, Your father **** E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 12 Sep 2001 Scully, let me know you're okay. I know you don't work at the Pentagon, but please check in. On the move again, but will write as soon as possible. **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 13 Sep 2001 Mulder, We are fine and no one we know was hurt. While it feels as though the world is falling apart, knowing you're okay gives me something to hang on to. There's a long line of people waiting for this computer so I must run, but I got your letter to William. Be careful. We miss you. **** Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, September 17, 2001 There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke… Quantum suicide? **** Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, September 18, 2001 And downward to the secret things we went Biloxi MI - 6/ 86 Camden NJ - 11/91 **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 20 Sep 2001 Mulder, Thank you for your help on the case. Do you have any updates on your end? Not much to tell here. I'm enjoying teaching very much; the students are so engaged and interested. It's a nice change from the endless parade of world-weary cops and agents. Were we ever that fresh-faced and eager? Thinking of you and aching to see you. **** E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 23 Sep 2001 It is no longer safe for me to contact you. **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 24 Sep 2001 Mulder, What's going on? Please find a way to let me know what's happening. **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 13 Oct 2001 Mulder, William and I baked a cake and we sang Happy Birthday to your picture. We went shopping for presents and William picked out an oven mitt. I tried to steer him towards the Yankees DVD collection, but he was adamant that you needed protective gear. I have begun to entertain theories of genetic memory. Please let us know you're all right. Many happy returns of the day. **** E-Mail From: rocbronzin@rutgers.edu To: dana_scully@fbi.gov Date: 17 Oct 2001 Hey there partner. Wanted to thank you again for the CPR. They don't really cover that in entomology doctoral programs though, so I'm hard pressed to return the favor. I know you're a mother but I assume you still eat so let me know if you want to grab a bite next time I'm in DC. **** E-Mail From: dana_scully@fbi.gov To: rocbronzin@rutgers.edu Date: 19 Oct 2001 Dr. Bronzino, Thank you very much for the offer, but it would not be appropriate at this time. Dana Scully **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 25 Oct 2001 Mulder, I know you can't tell me where you are and I am trying to respect what you're doing but this feels impossible sometimes. Not everything has to be a crusade, does it? You wanted to find your sister and while it wasn't the resolution you wanted, you found out the truth. Isn't that enough? We can have a life now. We have a son who needs both of his parents. Let this go, Mulder. **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 4 Nov 2001 Mulder, I don't even know why I'm writing this. I don't even know if you're alive. Attached are pictures of William in his Halloween costume. He went as a skunk and can sit up perfectly. **** Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, November 21, 2001 Lost: Norwegian Elkhound Answers to Heinrich Come home, Heinrich We miss you ****                                        

                                                                                     December 3, 2001

Mulder,

I am so concerned for your safety right now that it is overwhelming. I am trying not to be angry with you - truly I am - but it isn't easy. I know what you've told me, I know we discussed all of this and I know we agreed it was for the best, but the reality is proving far different than the theory. As a scientist, I ought to have expected it and yet I was completely blindsided.

I asked you once years ago if we could just get out of the car and you looked at me like I was crazy and you kept driving. And I stayed. Hundreds of thousands of miles I've traveled with you, Mulder. Endless black ribbons of highways full of nightmares and lost souls and we went after them with badges and guns because we had a job to do.

But I'm asking you now - not as your partner, but as the mother of your child - to get out of the goddamned car. I can't live like this anymore, Mulder, and I will not subject William to it.

I love you but I cannot do this for the rest of my life.

I have nowhere to send this letter.

****

                                                                                                                             December 15, 2001

Mulder,

William said "Da" when he saw your picture today. I have a video.

****

E-Mail From: phishphood66@yahoo.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 20 Dec 2001

Hey Danes -

Our gang's catching an earlier flight from Puerto Vallarta and I wanted to see if you'd be free for dinner. I'm trusting you to pick a not-shitty restaurant because last time I left it up to Bill he said he knew of a "really good Italian place" and took us to the fucking Olive Garden and I swear to God Tara put some of those breadsticks in her purse.

Can't wait to meet my new nephew (you have a kid, Danes!) and see if either of my rugrats is taller than you yet. They're growing like weeds and Larissa's firm is keeping us in Mexico until the resort's finished, so they're all sun-kissed and blonde and I'm mostly a giant freckle.

Mom specifically told me not to ask about William's father, so I'm asking. This Fox guy…what's up with him? Is he good to you? Bill paints him as a kind of Anton LeVay meets Forrest Gump character, but Bill thinks condoms are Satan's party balloons, so what the hell does he know about relationships?

I'm bringing a case of fine champanya to ring in the new year.

Charlie

****

E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: phishphood66@yahoo.com Date: 20 Dec 2001

Charlie,

I can't wait to see you all! It's been far too long since your jet-setting crew has ventured this way. Things with William's father are complicated, but it's due to factors beyond either of our control. I don't mean to be curt, but that's all I can say right now.

Dinner would be great. William still doesn't go to bed until fairly late and can be kept happy with a steady supply of food. He has an excellent pincer grasp.

Did Bill really take you to the Olive Garden? That's classic.

****

                                                                                                                             December 31, 2001

Mulder,

We celebrated Christmas at my mother's and Bill and Charlie and their families flew in. I have lots of pictures to show you of all of the kids together. William is babbling like a champion and I gave him a crayon to draw a picture for you on the back of this card, so turn it over. I remember New Year's Eve two years ago. Zombies, Mulder. And then you kissed me and here I am wishing maybe the world had ended after all because I'm remembering zombies with fondness and what the hell is wrong with my life and my God I miss you.

There was half a bottle of champagne left and now I'm drunk.

Happy New Year

Putting this card with your other unsent mail.

****

                                                                                                                                 January 1, 2002 Dear William,

One day, you'll ask me to speak of a truth - of the miracle of your birth. To explain what is unexplained. And if I falter or fail on this day, know there is an answer, my child, a sacred imperishable truth, but one you may never hope to find alone. Chance meeting your perfect other, your perfect opposite, your protector and endangerer. Chance embarking with this other on the greatest of journeys; a search for truths fugitive and imponderable. If one day this chance may befall you, my son, do not fail or falter to seize it. The truths are out there. And if one day you should behold a miracle, as I have in you, you will learn the truth is not found in science, or on some unseen plane, but by looking into your own heart. And in that moment you will be blessed - and stricken. For the truest truths are what hold us together, or keep us painfully, desperately apart.

Know this, William, for it is the most important thing I can hope to teach you: It is not a weakness to love someone. There may come a time when it will be the only strength you have.

****

E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 07 Jan 2002

Dearest Dana

I've resisted contacting you for reasons I know you continue to appreciate. But, to be honest, some unexpected dimensions of my new life are eating away at any resolve I have left. I'm lonely, Dana, uncertain of my ability to live like this. I want to come home. To you, and to William.

****

E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 07 Jan 2002

I am physically shaking right now seeing your words - wishing it were you speaking them to me. I want so badly to see you too, but you are still not safe here. You don't sound like yourself, Mulder, and it's frightening me.

Where in the world have you been?

****

E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 07 Jan 2002

I've seen things I cannot accept and don't know how to change. I feel like the fight has gone out of me and all I want is to come back and put this time behind us.

I will be home soon.

Details to follow in the usual manner.

****

Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, January 8, 2002

It was evening here But upon earth the very noon of night.

ncrl

****

E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 10 Jan 2002

Mulder,

I hold no hope you can respond to this. Or that it reaches you. I only hope that you are alive.

I cannot help believing that you jumped off that train because you knew what I now know - that these "super-soldiers" - if that's what they are - can in fact be destroyed. That the key to their destruction lies in the iron compound at that quarry.

I am scared for you, Mulder. And for William. The forces against us are unrelenting. But so is my determination to see you again. To regain the comfort and safety we shared for so brief a time. Until then, I remain forever yours,

Dana

****

Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, January 14, 2002

The whale, like all things that are mighty, wears a false brow to the common world.

Fe3O4

****

Letter received on January 27, 2002

Dana Scully 107 E. Cordova St. Apt. 35 Washington, DC., 01833

1-16-02

Not much time to write Sorry so short saw your note Agreed on Fe3O3 though not sure how yet Love to you both

****

                                                                                                                            February 2, 2002

Mulder,

I got your last letter and nearly wept with relief to hear from you. I hope this can all end soon. I pray you stay safe until then.

Not sure what the weather is like where you are, but the most beautiful snow has fallen here. William and I have been playing in it at every opportunity and there's a respectable snowman in front of my building now. William likes to eat the snow and blinks when the flakes cling to his eyelashes. He looks more like you every day.

I send regards from Skinner and the Gunmen and my mother lights candles for you.

I wish I had an address to send this to.

****

E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 11 Feb 2002

Mulder,

I am hesitant to contact you in this way because I know it is a risk, but I am beginning to fear the worst for William. I don't know what he is but someone does and they are trying to hurt him. I have been working with Reyes and we suspect it all goes back to that artifact I found in Africa, though I can't say I truly understand it. My mother says our son is a miracle and that I must simply accept him as that. But how can I do that, Mulder? After what happened to Emily, how can I not want to know how he came to be whatever he is?

William has been taken from me twice now and I am starting to despair of ever being able to protect him. All the sacrifices we're making right now - what if it comes to nothing? I don't know what to do.

****

E-Mail From: MAILER-DAEMON@n55.bullet.mail.sp1.hotmail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 11 Feb 2002

Sorry, we were unable to deliver your message to the following address.

< trust_no1@mail.com >

****

Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, February 23, 2002

O lady, you in whom my hope gains strength, you who, for my salvation, have allowed your footsteps to be left in Hell, in all the things that I have seen, I recognize the grace and benefit that I, depending upon your power and goodness, have received. You drew me out from slavery to freedom by all those paths, by all those means that were within your power. Do, in me, preserve your generosity, so that my soul, which you have healed, when it is set loose from my body, be a soul that you will welcome.

****

Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, February 24, 2002

Let faith oust fact; let fancy oust memory; I look deep down and do believe.

****

Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, March 20, 2002

All men live enveloped in whale-lines. All are born with halters round their necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realize the silent, subtle, ever-present perils of life.

Gunmen dead.

****

E-Mail From: dana_scully@fbi.gov To: john_doggett@fbi.gov Date: 26 Mar 2002

John,

My thoughts are with you and Barbara at this time. Take care.

Dana Scully

****

E-Mail From: john_doggett@fbi.gov To: dana_scully@fbi.gov Date: 26 Mar 2002

Thanks Dana. It's been hard but the closure has come as a relief after all this time. I hope you are coming to terms with your own loss as well. They were the good guys.

John Doggett

****

                                                                                                                          April 20, 2002

Mulder,

I have come to an act of desperation. I have had no way of contacting you - no way to talk this over with you - and so I had to make this choice alone. I have had assurances that our information is to be expunged from every record and I tell myself moment by moment that this is his only chance at a normal life, but what if I have made a mistake that can never be undone?

I vacillate between thinking I have sacrificed my own happiness for his and thinking I have sacrificed him because I am not strong enough to accept what he is. What if that's the case? What if I was just too afraid to see him suffer? Watching Emily die slowly through the glass left me so cold I thought I'd freeze everything I touched, but I didn't know how to grieve for her. They had no right to take those ova from me, no right to create her, and no right to destroy her. She was supposed to be mine and whatever other children were created should have been mine also. But by the time I came to terms with the fact that I was truly her mother, she was already gone. What if the same fate was in store for William? I don't know that I could have stood it.

All I wanted was a child - your child, as the years went on - and I just cannot understand why anyone would create these lives for the express purpose of later destroying them. I don't think we can ever fully know what William means to the Project, but they wanted him dead, Mulder. They wanted to take our son and kill him and would have in time and came close even as I watched over him, and all this before he turned a year old. Jeffrey Spender came to me - terrible things have been done to him - and said that no matter what he did to undo the changes to his little body, William would never have any peace from the men who have been working towards the ends you and I have been fighting.

I believed him, Mulder. I looked into his ruined face and I believe he was telling me the truth and I believe it still. I did the only thing I could think of to protect our son and I can only hope now that you can forgive me.

I don't know what else to do but keep going. It's all I've ever known how to do.

****

E-Mail From: wjscully8@navy.mil To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 22 Apr 2002

Dana, what in the hell have you done? Pick up your goddamned phone.

I just got off the phone with mom a little while ago and she's half-hysterical and I'm not far from it myself. What were you thinking? You put your son up for adoption, Dana? That really struck you as the best possible solution? That's what you have a family for. To help you. And no matter how bad things were you should have come to us. I don't know what has happened to you over the years and I don't think I even know who you are anymore, because my sister would never have done something so insane.

We could have taken him in for you if you couldn't deal with being a single mother. God knows where Fox is and why you put up with the crap he dishes out is beyond me, but he has molded you into a woman I don't recognize and I think there is something severely wrong with both of you.

I have faith that you are not beyond salvation, Dana, but you need to cut your ties with him. Come out to San Diego and stay with us. I have already contacted an attorney about having the adoption reversed and because of the extreme emotional duress you've been under he thinks there's a very good shot that Tara and I can get temporary custody while you get your life back together.

It's not too late for you. We love you and want to help, but you have to let us. I am praying for you.

Your brother,

Bill

****

E-Mail From: phishphood66@yahoo.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 22 Apr 2002

Hey Squirt. Just got an earful from Bill. Mom's too freaked out to be coherent.

I don't know what the fuck is up with you the past few years Danes, but the shit seems to have royally hit the fan of your life. Despite what Bill thinks, you were always the smartest one of us and if this is what you thought was right, well, I guess I have to trust that. I'm just so sorry that you're dealing with this.

We're moving to Marrakech in June for a restaurant Larissa's designing and we have this awesome house with plenty of room for decompressing Feds. Take some leave and come stay for a while.

Worried about you, big sister.

Charlie

****

E-Mail From: knitterrific@earthlink.net To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 24 Apr 2002

Dana, I am so worried about you and I think you might need some professional help. Please return my calls. We need to talk.

I love you.

Mom

****

E-Mail From: monica_reyes@fbi.gov To: dana_scully@fbi.gov Date: 25 Apr 2002

Dana

Please call if you ever need to talk. I am here for you.

Monica

****

E-Mail From: d_scully@fbi.gov To: m_reyes9@fbi.gov Date: 25 Apr 2002

Monica,

Thank you for your concern. I'm going to be fine. I will be back to work on Monday.

****

E-Mail From: j_doggett3@fbi.gov To: d_scully@fbi.gov Date: 25 Apr 2002

I hope this finds you well. Just wanted to see how you were doing.

John Doggett  

****

E-Mail From: d_scully@fbi.gov To: j_doggett3@fbi.gov Date: 25 Apr 2002

John,

Thank you for your concern. I'm going to be fine. I will be back to work on Monday.

****

E-Mail From: reits@clinicalassociates.com To: dana_scully@fbi.gov Date: 9 May 2002

Dr. Scully,

My name is John Reits and I am a parapsychologist. I'd like to meet with you concerning a former patient of mine. Please contact me at this address or give me a call at 714-555-0146.

****

E-Mail From: walter_skinner@fbi.gov To: dana_scully@fbi.gov Date: 19 May 2002

Scully -

Do you ever answer your phone anymore? I need to see you in my office at once. Drop what you are doing and get over here now.

It's about Mulder.

****

The End

****

Notes:

Addendum:

R2NCl + H2O = Bellefleur + Braddock Heights? So claims a woman with node at C5

The Warrior Princess Super-Soldier chick had a node on the back of her neck (around the C5 vertebra) and had informed Scully that chloramine was being introduced into the water supply to transform the populace into super-soldiers. Scully was reminded of the water tampering in Braddock Heights (Wetwired).

****

Fe3O4 + R2NCl = ?

Mulder has discovered evidence of a connection between chloramine and magnetite, but isn't sure what it is.

****

Quantum suicide?

Scully's hoping to get some help on the case from 4D. Quantum suicide - as it pertains to the many-worlds interpretation and the case - encompasses the idea that all moments (however unlikely) with possibilities of occurrence greater than zero are experienced in some dimension.

Mulder's reply is just directing her to some related case files. Which I made up.

****

It was evening here But upon earth the very noon of night.

ncrl

Mulder's train will arrive at the New Carrollton train station at midnight

[lokigayforhela]

Love Bites, Part 8

Word Count: 1110

Pairing: Hela x reader

Warnings: None

Notes: More quipping, and some actual plot development, look at that! Also of import: I have no idea how crime scenes work so I’m very sorry for the inaccuracies. Please enjoy, all the same, though!

Prompt: Ten from this list.

Previous Chapter .......... Next Chapter

You and Hela walked down the sidewalk in comfortable silence, but found yourself continuously glancing over at Hela to check on her every so often, your arm hooked around hers as you disinterestedly watched the hustle and bustle of the city around you.

“Do you really turn into dust in the sunlight, or is it, like… really, really bad sunburn?” you asked after a short while, your curiosity getting the better of you, once again.

Hela chuckled humorlessly, gaze trained in front of her. “That’s not something I’m in a hurry to find out.”

You nodded once as you considered that. “Fair enough.” You looked down at Hela’s hands, which were hidden beneath the too-long sleeves of her layered-on sweaters. “But you’ve never even accidentally gotten in the sunlight? Like a teeny, tiny little bit?” You were trying to lighten the mood a little. Hela was so serious in her anxiety to get the newborn taken care of, and you just wanted her to relax a little bit. “Eenie-weenie, itty-bitty, wittle little-”

“Don’t make me change my mind about letting you come with me to help,” Hela deadpanned, but when you glanced up to look at her, you could see a smile hidden in her eyes. “How far away from the neighborhood are we?”

“Well, the news said it happened a few blocks from Central Park, in the Upper West Side. And we’re about halfway across the Park now, so it shouldn’t be too much farther.”

Hela nodded, but said nothing. For a few minutes, you continued your walk in absolute silence, and you turned to look out across the green expanse of Central Park, watching as children played with their dogs, and as couples sat together at benches, completely oblivious to anything and everything that wasn’t a part of their little world. You couldn’t help but smile. People-watching had always been one of your favorite pasttimes, and walking through Central Park was the prime place to do it. Over the years you’d lived in New York City, you had seen and met so many people, each with their own story and their own goals in life. You found humanity’s will to adapt and persevere through all, and to never give up a comforting thought, and you hoped that maybe, someday soon, you’d be able to find out why exactly you were here, and be able to properly start down the pathway to your own goals.

“What are you thinking about?” Hela asked gently, and you turned to see that she was looking at you with curious eyes, head tilted the slightest bit, and lips curved in a soft smile.

You smiled in return, and turned back to look at a family enjoying a picnic spread out on a blanket. You were silent for a bit, just watching as you tried to figure out exactly how to word what you wanted to say. “So many different families, so many different people… From all walks of life, with different backgrounds. Hundreds and thousands and millions of stories, waiting to be told, waiting to be heard. I could live a thousand lifetimes and never grow tired of listening to someone talk about the hardships they’ve overcome to get to where they are today.”

Hela said nothing for a while, and when you turned back to look at her, she had an expression on her face that you couldn’t quite read. There were a thousand emotions going through her eyes, fondness, understanding, grief, regret, pain. Too many emotions for one person to have to bear on her own.

“What are… you thinking about?” you asked, treading gently, in case it was something Hela didn’t want to talk about.

She was silent for a few moments, and you watched as she fought to make her expression decidedly emotionless, glancing up at the sky briefly. “I’m thinking… The sun needs to, what you mortals say, ‘to fuck off’.”

You knew better than to push the matter, and instead settled on feigning offense. “Mortal? Is that how it is? That’s how it’s going to be?”

Hela only laughed, and shifted to put an arm around you as she carefully maneuvered so she could press a kiss to the top of your head without upsetting her hat. “Yes. But you’re my little mortal.”

You had to admit, that sounded a lot better than just ‘mortal’, and you gave a quiet, happy little sigh as you let your head rest against her shoulder.

The rest of the walk passed by in silence, and before you knew it, you were standing in front of an apartment draped with caution tape, watching as various cops and investigators looked around and asked questions to neighbors and standers-by.

“Okay… So how are we doing this?” you turned to look up at Hela, who was glancing around the crime scene with narrowed eyes as she took everything in.

“I’m going to go talk to one of the investigators. See what I can find out. While I do that, I need you to sneak into the ambulance and check for a bite mark. It could be anywhere, but… you’ll know what it looks like if you see it.”

“You really think they’re going to just tell you information about an investigation?” you asked dumbfoundedly, and then the rest of Hela’s sentence sank in. “You want me to sneak into an ambulance to check a dead body for a vampire bite?”

Hela looked at you with an amused little grin. “You said you wanted to help, right? That’s helping.”

You didn’t answer, lips curling into a pout because you knew she was right, and you were worried if you argued against it, she wouldn’t let you help at all. “I still don’t think they’ll tell you anything,” she muttered grumpily.

Hela only grinned more. “Darling, I’m a vampire. Charm comes with the job.” She winked at you, and you scowled back at her, turning to look at the ambulance parked along the sidewalk. Hela followed your gaze, and reached for your hand, voice softening a little. “You’ll be fine. I promise.” She waited until you were looking up at her to smile encouragingly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before gently pushing you toward the ambulance.

You took a few steps toward it, and then turned to look back at Hela, but she had already disappeared to go talk to whoever she was going to talk to. You heaved a sigh and turned back around, making sure no one was watching as you slunk over to the ambulance, coming to rest in front of it anxiously once you were close enough.

“Well… Here goes nothing.”

Previous Chapter .......... Next Chapter

[honeylikewords]

*cries* Imagine Viktor holding his baby singing in Bulgarian and leaning down to kiss their little forehead. Imagine Viktor and the baby having Tummy Time, so the baby is on their stomach getting their neck muscles stronger and Viktor is on his own stomach talking to them, Viktor getting a costume jersey shirt for them with “Tiniest Krum” written on the back. Viktor walking around with the baby strapped to his chest in one of those carriers as he cleans up.

Viktor is a VERY hands-on dad! 

He doesn’t actually like letting other people hold his baby. He’s very, very defensive about it and protective, uncomfortable with the idea of strangers or even people he knows laying their unclean hands on his very special and very precious little angel.

He’s almost aggressive when other people start trying to ask him about his baby, asking to touch or hold them; no! He doesn’t know where those hands have been! He doesn’t trust this person to hold and support his delicate little lovedove!

The only other person in the world he trusts to care for his baby is, obviously, his wife, the baby’s mother. She is the only person who he believes is capable of caring for their child, and he’s going to defend that.

As such, Viktor spends most of his time holding his baby, carrying them around, taking them with him so that he can always keep them safe, near their beloved daddy. Everything will be okay, because he’s there, and he’s gonna take care of them.

Viktor is very quiet, but will talk to the baby in soft whispers, unwilling to get too loud and upset his little darling. If the baby comes to his games, he makes sure his wife and infant are seated in the quietest part of the arena and that special precautions are taken to make sure that the baby will be alright, i.e. the baby may wear noise-cancelling headphones to keep their delicate ears safe. 

He’ll feed them himself with the bottle when his wife isn’t around to help feed the little munchkin, and he doesn’t mind cleaning up spit-ups or burps. Stinky diapers are no challenge whatsoever. Doing all these menial, semi-gross tasks doesn’t bother him. He actually kinda likes it; there’s something very distinctly heartwarming for Viktor about being able to actually contribute something, to be able to help nurture a life.

He loves to rest the baby on his chest so they can do their tummy time, watching them lift their head up as he coos Bulgarian encouragements to them. When their oh-so-heavy noggin flops back on his chest, he kisses the crown of their soft, peach-fuzz head, rubbing their tiny back and murmuring “Dobra rabota, moeto bebe! Tolkova silen!”

Well done, my baby! So strong!

Viktor is immensely proud of his teeny-weeny little one, and he can’t help but talk about them all the time, showing off pictures and bragging about how strong they are, how they learned to smile so quickly, how sweet-tempered they are, how well they eat and how big they grow.

People are honestly sick of him shoving photographs of his newborn in their faces, grinning and pointing at them to talk about the day they turned over on their own, or how they’re able to lift their chin up all on their own, or how they held his finger with their whole hand.

He can’t help but adore his baby: that baby is the culmination of everything that could possibly matter to him. Winning World Cups is wonderful, yes, but there’s something absolutely incomparable to the fulfillment and joy he feels knowing that he’s been part of bringing this brand new life into the world. 

[wolveswithhats]

For WIP Week

Abandoned idea from a few years ago, a melding of two of my favorite things, Buffy and Portal! Of the idea that the Initiative ships off some of its demons to Aperture. Because....reasons. Spike-centric (or, well, Spike-exclusive ). Very sloppy. Outline-quality, lots of meandering, unfinished, unpolished concepts. Riddled with editing notes. I didn’t even bother with capitalization. Still, there’s some fun stuff in here.

(I don’t care if anyone reblogs, just don’t put it on any of the aggregators, please. This is too rough drafty and embarrassing to be filed away as Content Worth Looking At.)

(captured by initiative again. s4 – s5. initiative shutting down, cementing off. exterminate all demons. riley pulls some strings to have spike shipped off instead of staked. the smallest of favors. i'm still on team riley-isn't-a-total-douchebag. he's aight.)

an hour later, spike and three of his ugliest friends are caged and carted into the back of a semi for a cross country drive across america's finest bypasses. through a hole in the wall watches steel and mortar slowly give off to rolling green-gold fields. teeny tiny farmsteads, clarkston and robin glen and with some disgust, notes the turnoff for a lake angelus, some thirty miles north of detroit.

(his initiative vamp neighbor, 90s grunge clothes, grunge name – trevor – fledge too young to drop game face.)

“christ, i heard about this place. some science lab in a salt mine underground. they say this place does weird experiments.”

met with deadpan, disbelieving stares, and a disgusted tsk from the blond lady-vamp, what's-her-face, something with calendars. april or may or half-past-eleven, day day day, sunday, right, that was it.

“they took my appendix, trevor.” sunday lifts her shirt, revealing a line of stitches, “for their mix-and-match potato head monster. what the hell is a frankenzombie going to do with a shriveled, century old organ? it doesn't even do anything. how is that not weird.”

“no man, I mean really, really weird. cross-dimensional travel, like stargate. bug people. turning your blood into gasoline.”

spike snorts. “I drive a '59 fireflite. gorgeous piece of machinery, but bollocks for mileage. single digits. could due for some petrol on tap.” sad, longing, separation anxiety. his desoto was 2200 miles away baking in the california sun. once he made his way back to the west coast, he'd find those military wankers for a dechipping, kill the whole lot of them, and piss on their corpses for good measure. then he'd book it to south america, away from scalpel-wielding lab jockeys, bouncy-haired slayers and the root of every major humiliation of his unlife over the past three years. bon-fucking-voyage.

ugly demon: “that's why you should switch to a hybrid. my prius gets great fuel economy.” how does a demon that big fit into a mid-size?

(ugly demon = horned, beastly. “your primitive human anatomy lacks the necessary mouthparts to vocalize my true name. what sort of creature only has one tongue? you may call me henrietta.”)

trevor is oblivious. “they were some respected science lab back in the sixties. now? when they're not making you test out their weird experimental products, they make you run through test courses, solve puzzles. and it's all orchestrated by this giant murderous robot. like HAL from space odyssey. once people go in, they're never heard from again. it's true. my cousin knew a guy who was there, he told me all about it.”

“if no one ever gets out, how the hell does your cousin know a guy, you stupid sod.”

trevor's fangs close with an audible click, and he sits sullen for the rest of the commute.

as it turns out, stupid sod and cousin-of-sod actually did know what they were talking about.

housed on the outskirts of a wheatfield, through a gated parking lot, innocuous brick building. on the loading dock, a hispanic man in blue work coveralls wheels a dolly into the back of the mac truck. looks at his living cargo with what spike considers to be an appalling lack of concern, considering the very blatant human trafficking unfolding before him.

“you're not the parts I ordered.” gruff texan drawl. yells to the front, “where are my chamber parts?”

driver swings around front, clutching a clipboard, hands it off. “friday, likely. this is your wednesday shipment.”

“these are people.” texas squints at array of annoyed, tired faces, takes in the gnarled brows, the shackles, and the powder blue scrubs, eyes finally settling on the barbed, hulking form of henrietta. “theoretically. why do I have a shipment of mangled faces, billy idol--”

“hey!”

“--and one-fifth of gwar? are we making a music video?”

the driver shrugs. “i just deliver. sign the thing.”

texas reads off the clipboard: “subject donation from sunnydale university. volunteers?”

“experimental lab rats,” trevor offers.

“prisoners,” spike corrects, growling. “this has got to be in violation of the...what's it? geneva convention. I feel unduly treated. I want an attorney. actual, not one of those 800-number infomercial suits. due my civil rights.”

texas blinks owlishly. “what civil rights? you're not even american.”

“i'm sorry, I didn't realize I needed to shit red, white and blue to not be accosted against my will.”

ignores bitching. “are you even human?” points at henrietta. “i don't think that's human.”

(“what multiverse are you lot from?”

“california.”

“huh. always had my suspicions.”)

he was hoping for an upgrade to trousers, denim, in a dark blue or black. maybe a pale wash if it had a grunge-enough look to it. what they gave him was a pair of coveralls in sunshiny bright incarceration orange, with lines of white piping tracing the seams and a stitching of black lettering across the breast pocket labeling him as HST0017. for fuck's sake.

“i'm not wearing this.”

“as soon as you pass through that emancipation grill, any unapproved paraphernalia is forfeit.”

“meaning what?”

“your current clothes will be emancipated. pffft! you could go naked, wouldn't be the first test streaker, but I gotta warn you, there's the acid pits, the gun turrets, and oh, the lasers. burns like a bitch, and that's not even touching the potential crotch-rotting radiation--”

“just give me the fucking jumpsuit.”

they surgically grafted a band of white metal to the back of his shins, where a long curved spring of steel could be notched, lifting his feet into a painful arch, weight balanced on his toes. he was suddenly that much more impressed with the slayer and her preference for fighting evil in teetering heels, which did wonders for making her teeny weeny hobbit legs look elegant but offered only a promise of scuffed heels and snapping ankles in grave dirt. angelus-grade torture, he decided, hobbling awkward and bird-like from one side of his little glass prison to the other.

he found the entire affair ludicrous, demeaning, and oh, stupid, until he witnessed another test subject slip on a slick of orange goo and nosedive off a platform, pancaking wetly across the tile in a display of hilarious cartoon physics. it was admittedly very, very funny, and funnier still watching jaded custodians squeegee up the red smear that used to be a person, but not something he was looking to experience himself first hand.

“you know, I can see the upside of not doing my best wile e. coyote impression,” he groused, “but you should really have these things in boot form.” shifting uncomfortably as the screws in his knees creaked, puckered and itched.

rick looks at him, surprised. “that's.....that's an idea. we'll take that into consideration.”

(aaaaaaand a jump to the P2 section. slightly better quality, a little less outline-ish. tho very stream-of-consciousness)

waking up with a dry mouth, mouth full of cotton, mouth full of fluffy biker beard, and where had that image come from? like all the moisture had been sucked from the room, stale recycled air like new car smell and musk. where is here? bed, desk, dinged up dresser, ceiling-mounted tv, blacked out and coated in dust. walls decorated with murals of snowy mountains and ski lodges, tacky thrift store oil paintings. the bed he's laying on has a threadbare blue hospital blanket, and a man-shaped crater pressed into the mattress, like a police chalk outline with serious gravity. motel room? UGLY motel room. there's no windows in the room, just slated blinds stretching the length of one wall.

can't move, groggy, wet limp noodle muscles, the dead waking. stares down the length of his body. dressed like a petrol station attendant, orange jumpsuit rolled mid-shin, legs bony and corpse-white. wow, seriously overdue for a date with mr. sunshine.

figure out the who the what and the why after he quenched this sahara on his tongue. room to the left of the bed, loo, good, yes. force himself to move, up and over, muscles clenching in rebellion, stumble over with white white legs buckling like a newborn deer. sink, yes, water churned and choked god why is it taking so long finally sputters out, drinks and drinks tinny tap water until he feels like he's going to burst. sates the fire in his mouth but not the thirst, the hunger, god what is that?

looks up in the dark of the bathroom into the mirror, and sees nothing, just dingy white tile where his face should be. huh. well that's just... different. it's unnatural, he knows, because hello, does still remember how a mirror works, even if he can't remember much of anything else. experiments, lifts the crusty dry slab of soap and watches its reflection bob phantom-like in mid-air. right, so, the mirror isn't broken, just him. but it doesn't feel wrong, like somehow he's just used to staring at empty space in the mirror.

what the hell is he?

sits back on the bed, hands clenching knees.

beyond the doorway, he expects a hallway, maybe, decked out in the same mottled 70s look his room is themed, or a carpark dotted with out of state license plates and neglected marquee signage. but there's no cars, no buildings, no outside. just a massive storehouse, stretching up and out beyond what he can see, dimly lit by flickering yellow halogen. snaking lines of track above his head following the catwalk he's standing on, weaving between towers of grafted metal and grey-green storage units stacked like legos. huge. massive. his own room was in a storage box, labeled next to the door.

test subject packed on 11/17/1999 EXP: indefinite ADT SLM M SHRT

short? was he short? well sure maybe by comparison of the super humongous warehouse he was stored in. not a very helpful selection of information, most of which he had already established. a picture would be helpful. a name. a passport. a blockbuster rewards card. literally any brand of identity.

goes back in, shuffling about, looking for something he's not aware of yet. there's a pad of paper in the desk and a cheap ballpoint pen. picks up the pen, but it feels awkward and childish gripped in his hand. moment of panic that he's illiterate, until he swaps the pen to his left. it feels much more natural.

--mirror challenged. am a ghost? --left-handed. evil ghost? --posh penmanship though --orange is not my color --i could do for a tan

pauses thoughtfully.

--who the fuck am i

sound of screeching metal and cracking drywall, urban destruction at its finest. implied shortness a sudden and unexpected gift as something ghosts over his head, ruffling his hair, clipped english accent as a storage crate cranes above him: “--ten thousand flippin' vegetables--” carves a winding trail of destruction as it tears through crates and cables and catwalks before finally coming to an explosive stop, half buried in the far wall.

his own crate tips, agonizingly slow with groaning whale song of careening metal, before momentum and gravity takes it for its own. crash bang boom, gaudy motel mountain ski lodge avalanches into another stack of crates, creating a domino effect. check-out achieved, in more ways than one. leaves him stranded on a creaking catwalk with no more than an ugly jumpsuit, a pad of paper, and more questions then before. he left the pen on the bed. bugger.

picks a direction and walks. periodically checks crates. like his own, all decked out like vintage motels, oil crusted murals and tacky faux-wood paneling. and on every bed is a person. all coated in a fine layer of dust, gray-skin, perfectly preserved but very, very dead. room after room. men, women, children. old young tall short fat skinny. a varied collection of corpses lined up like sleeping porcelain dolls. flippin' vegetables, indeed.

turns a corner and comes face-to-cornea with a massive metal eyeball. yells in surprise. the eyeball screams, then rears back on the rail suspending it. in its backwards attempt at escape, cracks into a closed door where the rail vanishes, and stirs woozily on its axis.

“what's that then. you alright?” he asks, cringing even as he speaks. it feels more obligate social politeness than actual concern; he honestly could not give one flying fuck about its condition. beyond that, asking a metal eyeball of its well-being seems ridiculous, even in light of this entire weird situation, but it—he—chuckles nervously, looking all at once embarrassed and grateful for the inquiry. an impressive emotive feat, considering he's lacking the other 95% of his face.

“sorry, sorry! you startled me! wasn't expecting a human to come waltzing out of nowhere, considering all of them are dead. corpses usually aren't so ambulatory.” the glowing iris slits to a suspicious blue line. “though in your particular case--”

“you're bristonian,” he says, realization dawning.

“no,” the eyeball chided slowly, with a patronizing squint, “i'm a robot.”

“your accent. you talk like you're from bristol. bristonian.” stubbornly. not getting into an argument with a fucking metal orb. “i heard you speak before, back in that warehouse. you're the one who almost ran me down with a crane. who taught you to drive, mr. magoo?”

“hey now! how about some leeway? bit of a limb deficiency here.” the robot waggles its handlebars in demonstration. “i haven't exactly mastered the art of ten-and-two.” sudden realization: “say, you talk like me! i'd say we came from the same development wing, but that's unlikely, you being organic and all that.”

did he now? that hadn't even occurred to him.

he weighs the language on his tongue, the thoughts in his head, parsing through words, foods, spellings, culture. carparks and car boots, wheatabix, man-u, european craft beers, and a strange smug superiority over chirpy, obnoxious californian twang. and of course, a beautiful array of curse words rolling fluid off his tongue. “bloody hell, sodding, blimey, shagging, knickers, bollocks – oh god, you're right, i'm english too.”

he was a londoner, his accent said as much, though with a sort of languid, unpolished quality that came from excessive travel and extended exile from the mother country. he hadn't been home for a long time. expat? study abroad? he didn't feel like a student, well past adolescence, but he didn't feel like much at all, beyond hopelessly confused.

[bluestationtoo]

Hello Lovelies!!!

I just listed some old doctor who merch (some pillows and a skirt), some old band merch, and a sailor jupiter costume for sale, send me an ask or a message if you're interested in anything and i can send more pictures and information!!!! I also have other regular clothes (not pictured) from teeny weeny kid sizes (newborn baby to approx 6t) to womens large and mens 2xl sizes!

[creativityworks-sx]

4 Legendary POC (People of colour) you SHOULD be watching on YouTube & if you aren’t, pls WHAT ARE YOU DOING?- By Cheryl Bruce #injectit

1. Rhea Ellen

Man like Rhea Ellen you knowwww, 27, well known for her ‘Rhea Rants’.... Legendary.... absofigingely fantabulously legendary if it isn’t her elite sense of humour, adlibs, random singing outbursts or the famous ‘STRESS PON MI LEFT BREAST’ then her facial expressions and raw realness will have you tumbling & hooked. I first stumbled across her channel back in 2018 and was wondering WHY I hadn’t heard of her sooner, her channel covers everything from very relatable everyday life nuinsenses, tv/ reviews & dilemmas to mental heath and now including clips of everyday life whilst with a newborn.

Rhea’s like that one reaaaaaal best friend you have who isn’t afraid to tell you wa gwaaan and that’s essentially why we all need her in our lives or at least on our screens, her topics are so relatable she’ll have you ‘omadaiiizzz-ing’ with every story.....

‘Loiiiiiike that l-i-t-o-r-allly just happened to me the other day,like, yaknowwhata meannn’

Honestly at this point you really just need to head over and have a nosey for yourself grab ya popcorn, grab ya lemon water and in Rhea’s words ‘move pon di left’

Instagram: @rhea.ellen

Twitter: @rhea_ellenn

2. Murad Merali

Murad Merali, 23, Clinical Psychiatric, Cognitive Neuroscientist & avid content creator.

The most consistent content serving you PIPING, HOT Tea, reactions and serious/ controversial disscusions daily, sometimes even as the tea brews. Murad Merali isn’t afraid to open discussions on racism, politics, sexuality, mentality and more placing these topics in a central light allowing room for needed conversations within our society.

Murad uses his profession as Clinical Psych to give non biased perspectives and informative anylasis on his social platforms, he is direct and to the point meaning the majority of his YouTube videos are usually under 5 minutes and since beginning his Podcast ‘I’m over it’ he is able to expand his initial opened discussions.

Murad’s ability to question the taboos within our cultural society and not tip toeing around these issues is what drew me to his channel initially and of course he stans’ hard for us Black women ‘INJECT IT’ and we’re here for it! He isn’t afraid to call out people on their Bulls**t but what’s most important is he’s able to remove his own opinions and give multiple points of views.

Instagram: Murad_Merali

Twitter: MuradMerali

Podcast: I’m over it

3. Janai Briggs

Janai Briggs, 21 also known as Janai Kirsten which she goes by on her social media platforms, is one of my fave Natural hair youtubers to watch since doing my second buzzcut. It was her creative flair for eclectic hair colouring/ Bleaching videos that had me hooked! Being a Londoner, during those times it wasn’t as common as it is now to dye your hair all the shades of the rainbow, her influence as an American blogger gave me and I’m sure many others confidence in rocking our natural ‘TWAs’ (Teeny Weeny Afros) providing straight forward hair colouring tutorials she herself was able to achieve, aside from Hair dying tutorials Janai also is a Skin care & Beauty blogger.

In November 2019 Janai Launched ‘Kristen Parlour’ her own hair Care brand focusing on products tailored to those with colour treated hair and is now gearing up to launch a collection of semi-permanent hair dyes. A Multi talented Entrepreneur to definitely watch!

Instagram: @Janaikirsten

Twitter: @Janaikirsten

Tumblr: @janaikirsten

4. Lloyd Lothian

Lloyd Lothian, who goes by Chuckie, 37 is an outstandingly well known Versatile DJ

Who became one of England’s top underground club DJ’s serving as the main DJ for U.K rapper Angel.

Also an Official DJ for Jay Prince (@loungeinparis), WSTRN (@wstrnmusic), Nike (@nike) & Monster (@monsterproducts) as well as the DJ’ing Chuckie is the Host of the #Halfcast podcast

I know some may question why I’ve placed him in the ‘top YOUTUBERS’ category my reason for this is that’s where I first came across him. About 2 years ago his famous podcast did come up in conversation but my attention is drawn visually so it wasn’t until his Chanel was recommended to me via YouTube that I tuned in and 2 minutes in began following the podcast.

Halfcast is essentially a series of a range of topics from Grime, Rap music & culture to covering discussions on the LGBTQ+ community, Mental health, society and topics gender focused; this is where his YouTube channel is essential as each episode depending on the choice of topic Chuckie will invite at least one panalist who associates with that particular community (as well as familiar members of the cast) in order to have a non biased conversation whilst learning and listening to an opposed insight/ opinion. Halfcast for me is like being in a room with your close friends and ‘talking about everything and anything’.

Personally I enjoy his conversations on both platforms but in order to listen to the full topic I’d definitely follow up on Halfcast Podcast how I spend my Sunday afternoons whilst I change my bedding.

Instagram: ChuckieOnline

Twitter: ChickieOnline

Podcast: HalfcastPodcast

[mdecredico]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NWT -☀️ Koala Kids Newborn Bikini.

[alicemoonwonderland]

The Thief’s Jewel - Part Eleven

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 12]

Fandom: The Hobbit Pairing: Nori x Jaida (Orignal Fem!Character) Rating: NSFW for later chapters

Tagging: @atlerion (Let me know if you want to be tagged)

Jaida felt her mind blank out, thanking Mahal for that as the birth wasn't easy. Panting heavily for air as she pushed. Her skin covered with sweat. But dwarves were tough, hearty. And somewhere amongst Nori's encouragements, and the midwife instructions, she heard crying. The high pitched cries of new life. She tilted her head to look down as the midwife lifted the baby for her to see. A girl. She swore she heard that. But she was too focused on the enormous red fuzball being carried away to be cleaned.

Nori had tears in his eyes, turning to Jaida and beamed at her. Stroking her hair back carefully. Squeezing her hand. "You did it. It's a baby girl. A girl." Nori choked up and kissed her forehead. So proud of his wife. Smiling so adoringly at her.

She blinked rapidly, feeling so weak, and yet alive at the same time. "A girl. Can I take a bath too?" She chuckled weakly. Squeezing his hand lightly.

He squeezed her hand. "Uhm. I don't know." He laughed sheepish. "But I can get some moist cloths to wash you, if you want?" He asked her softly as he stared into her eyes. "A girl." He mumbled to himself.

"Moist cloths.” She scoffed. “Run me a bath." She grumbled, pushing up slowly to a sitting position. Hell no was she seeing anyone like this. The bedsheets needed changed and everything! Looking over to the midwife who was prepared to protest but immediately gave up at the look she gave her.

"Bath! Yes, Amrâlimê!" Nori dashed off and started the bath. No way was he going to protest with his wife when she had that look on her face. He wasn't stupid. Returning to Jaida and carefully lifted her up, bringing her to the bathroom.

"Thank you." She said softly, letting him help her from her clothes and into the bath. "Change the bedsheets please. I'll make it quick."

"Yes yes." He kissed the top of her head and moved back into the bedroom, quickly changing the bed. Smiling over at the midwife who was cleaning his baby girl. He was truly an Adad now. Blinking rapidly as his eyes burned. When the bed was clean again, he walked back to his wife.

She moaned as she finished cleaning herself, she did not like the feeling of sweating in her clothes. Looking up to Nori with a smile as she rinsed out her hair. Already feeling more alert from the bath. "Clothes. Comfy clothes. Please?"

Nori nodded, kissing her deeply for a moment. His adoration and pride being poured into the kiss. He walked away again and soon returned with wide and very comfortable clothes. Grabbing a big fluffy towel to dry her.

Jaida groaned a little as he helped her from the tub. Dried her off and helped her get dressed and brush out her hair. Then he walked her back into the bedroom. She carefully propped up some pillows so that she could sit upright. The midwife noticing their return. Instantly bringing over their wrapped up bundle of joy. Placing her in Jaida’s arms.

Nori whimpered when he saw their little miracle. Well, no one could ever doubt it was his baby because damn the kid had red hair. "She's perfect." Nori cooed as he sat down beside Jaida. His finger very carefully touching those little chubby cheeks. Adoring the little one with all his heart. "She's so tiny."

She brought the little one up and rubbed their noses together. Giggling as she was so happy. The baby blinking as she opened her eyes. "Ah. Those are mine. Adad's." She turned to Nori with the most adoring look.

"Yes, yes they are." He smiled tenderly at them, resting his head against Jaida's. Sighing contently and mumbled to the sweet little dove. "She's so tiny, Jaida! So teeny weeny!"

"She needs a name Nori." She turned, handing the baby off to him.

"Name?" He squeaked and carefully cradled the baby in his arms. Looking utterly lost. She was so tiny. He was just scared he would accidentally drop her. "I'm not good with names." He stared into the baby's eyes, feeling such intense love. Now he understood Dwalin.

"Well. I have one if you don't mind." She whispered. This was her new favorite view, watching her one, holding their baby in his arms. The little one wiggling around a bit, grabbing at his beard.

Nori snickered. Leaning in and rubbed his nose against the baby's, just like Jaida had done moments before. Making silly noises. "Tell me, Amrâlimê."

"Mettalise." She said softly, leaning back against the headboard. "I want to name her after Amad."

"Mettalise." Nori mumbled to his daughter. "A pretty name for a pretty girl. You'll do your grand-Amad proud. I just know."

She smiled, holding her arms out to take the baby back. "Will you get Adad and Uncle Balin? Oh! Wait I have something else first."

"Mmm?" Nori tilted his head as he carefully placed that tiny miracle in her arms. "You two look beautiful together."

"Do you think Bofur would be the god-Adad?" She asked carefully. Her Adad and Uncle, even Dori, they were older dwarves. And Ori was so young.

"Oh yes. He'd be so delighted. We just have to make sure he doesn't run off with our little bundle of joy." He brushed his finger against his daughter's cheek, cooing for a moment and getting up. "I'll be right back." He walked out of the room and asked for Dwalin and Balin to come in.

Dwalin clasped Nori's shoulder for a moment and walked into the room. Choking up the second he saw his little jewel with a bundle in her arms. "Hello." He whispered with a hoarse voice as he slowly approached.

Balin was right next to his brother, tears immediately in his eyes. Taking a deep breath as he moved towards Jaida and holding out his arms. To which she carefully passed the baby to him. He looked down with an adoring smile as the girl started entangling her hands in his beard. "Well those eyes suit you better than my brother. Told your Amad that the first time I held her too." He sniffed.

Jaida shook her head amused as she watched her uncle. Then turned her gaze to her father.

Dwalin moved to her and hugged her close. "I'm proud of you." He mumbled against her hair, holding her tightly for a long moment. Then he turned to his brother and held out his arms. "Give me my granddaughter." He spoke gruff and Balin handed the tiny girl to him. Dwalin cradled her in his arms and felt tears roll down his face. His breathing a bit choppy as it brought back so many memories. "You look just like your Amad did. Just as tiny. Expect that hair of yours. That's all your Adad."

]"Aye. That it is. Unfortunately there will be no convincing of otherwise." Balin drawled out, winking at Nori. "Alright then. Give us a name."

Jaida reached out and brushed the baby's hair back. Then folded her hands in her lap. "Her name is Mettalise."

Dwalin froze when he heard that name, looking at his daughter with glassy eyes. "Mettalise?" He turned to the baby, holding her closer and rested his forehead so carefully against hers. "Your grand-Amad would have adored you so much." He cried softly.

Balin had never felt more proud of someone than he had in that moment. Leaning in and pressing a kiss to Jaida’s forehead. Backing up to watch his brother. Knowing how conflicting of emotions must be running through him.

A tear ran down Jaida’s cheek as she watched. This moment was it, she could truly die in peace. Beaming when the baby started to coo and giggle, reaching up to touch her grand-Adad.

Dwalin broke out in real sobs now, rocking her in his arms and blubbered how precious the little one was. A little precious gem, just like her Amad. Promising he'd keep her safe, always. And no boys! Boys are stupid.

Nori couldn't help but chuckle when Dwalin warned off his granddaughter from boys. Wrapping his arm tightly around his Jaida and discreetly brushed away a tear himself.

Balin huffed, his face turning a bit disgusted. "Right hand to the King, greatest warrior dwarf in Erebor my arse! You're more of a baby then the newborn!"

Jaida giggled, reaching out to take the baby back from her father. Her cheeks hurting. "Alright. You can visit later. I want Dori, Ori, and Bo to see her before I fall asleep."

Dwalin pulled a face to his brother and gave his little granddaughter a kiss. Handing her back to her Amad. "Trust me. I'll come over a lot."

"I know you will. As will we. Have an extra place set at Friday’s dinner and Sunday’s tea." She said softly, cradling the baby again. Leaning towards Balin as he gave the baby a kiss as well.

"Shall we send in the lads?" He asked as he pulled away.

"Yes please."

Nori cooed to his daughter again, playfully brushing his braid against her nose and made her giggle.

Looking up when his brothers moved into the bedroom. Moving immediately towards the couple and their new niece or nephew.

"By my beard." Dori whispered breathlessly. Tears brimming his eyes. "It's a girl." He stepped forward and placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Jaida nodded softly as she looked at Ori. "Do you want to hold her?"

Nori beamed up with pride. "First girl in our line in five generations, am I right?"

"Can I? She's so tiny! Dori? Was I this small when I was a baby?" Ori carefully took the baby, smiling shyly at her. Rocking her.

"I believe so. I'd ask if you were sure she was yours. But there's no denying that ball of sunshine." Dori chuckled, squeezing his brothers shoulder. A proud look on his face. "You were a bit bigger than that Ori. But still small enough you barely fit in my hands yes."

"Oh wow. Her hair is so pretty. So red! Redder than yours, Nori!" Ori smiled brightly when the baby babbled and tried to touch his face. Whispering to the baby and introduced himself. He was an Uncle now! He wasn't the baby anymore.

Jaida looked so adoring over at Nori, for such a long time before she turned back to the baby. "You'll start teaching her young right? I want her to be as smart as her Uncle."

"Oh of course. I'll come over every day to read to her. She'll be even smarter than me!" Ori puffed with pride.

"Yikes, Ori. Don't set such high standards for the kid. She's barely an hour old!"

"Oh she's going to love her Uncle Ori. I can see her now. She'll follow you around. Be your little shadow." She said softly.

"Alright alright. Amad looks tired let me hold her for a moment." Dori made grabby hands as he turned to his youngest brother.

Ori pouted at Dori for a moment and reluctantly handed her over. "Really? I'd like that. I always followed Dori, or sometimes Nori. I'll keep her safe. I promise!"

"I know you will Ori. You're a strong dwarrow. And I'm proud you're my brother." Nori spoke seriously, making his baby brother look startled.

"Oh Mahal fatherhood is already making him soft. Quick. Hurry up and have another." Dori teased. Holding the baby in one arm and tickling her belly. "Oh that hair looks better on you."

"Jaida. He's being mean to me. Say something about it!" Nori complained as he nuzzled his wife's neck.

Dori rolled his eyes, playing with the baby for a moment before handing her back to Jaida. "Name?"

"Mettalise." Nori smiled adoringly, kissing his daughter's head carefully. "Our little Mettalise."

Dori took a shakey breath, wiping a rogue tear as he watched the trio. "Alright Ori. Let's leave the happy family to themselves." He opened his arm to his brother.

Jaida looked up from the glorious sight before her. "Send in Bofur? I can handle one more visit I think." She yawned.

Ori moved to Dori, leaning against him for a moment and beamed at his family. "Get some rest and we will!"

They turned and left, Bofur moving inside shortly after, taking off his hat and smiled kindly to them. "Ello, how ye'll doing?" He asked as he came closer.

"Hey Bofur." Jaida said softly. Her eyes a bit tired, but they were sparkling like the starts in the sky.

He sat down on the bed, looking adoringly at the baby. "Such a wee little thing, innit?"

"Yes she is. Bofur. We wanted to ask you something." Nori smiled at Jaida.

"Yes. Here, relieve me for a moment." She smirked, holding the baby out to him.

"Oooh. Wee little bairn." Bofur muttered and took the baby. Knowing precisely how to hold her as he had held many of his nieces and nephews. "Pretty little thing. Much prettier than your Adad. Just as pretty as your Amad."

Jaida leaned against Nori. Feeling absolutely at peace with everything. Her decision all the more clear when she saw Bo with the baby. "Her name is Mettalise. And she needs a god parent. Seeing as Adad and Dori are older. And Ori is so young."

Bofur looked at the two of them, blinking rapidly for a moment. "It will be an honor to be little Lise's god-Adad." He puffed up with joy and pride. Laughing with the little one grabbed his braid. "Curious little thing."

"I take back what I said about Ori. She's going to have a hard time choosing between him and Bo. She's already got you wrapped around her finger." She said softly.

"That she does. Little blossom. Oh I've so many toys for you. You'll want for nothing." Bofur promised her as he carefully stroked her hair back.

"Now she has a personal toymaker and a private tutor. She's set for life." Jaida murmured. A blissful smile on her face as she closed her eyes. Starting to sink against Nori's side.

Bofur looked at Jaida. "I think it's best if I leave now. Ye all need your rest. I'll come back soon." He said softly, handing the baby over to her father.

Jaida blinked, shaking her head as she sat up. Smiling sheepish at him. "You better. Maybe we should make up a schedule." She teased, letting out a wide yawn.

"That is fine with me!" He stood up and tucked Jaida in more. Kissing her temple brotherly. "Rest." He ordered them softly and shook his friend's hand.

"I'll see you later, Bofur."

"Bye Bo." She managed out. Somehow as she had already drifted off before he reached the door.

***

Jaida mewled as she stirred awake. Blinking rapidly to adjust to the darkness around her. Shivering as she registered that she was cold. "Mmm. Nori?" She rolled over, patting the bed but it was empty. That made her jerk awake, worry running through her. Slipping out of bed and moving from the room. Prepared to call his name again but stopped when she heard noises coming from the nursery, so she moved there instead. She leaned against the doorframe when she saw him sitting in a chair, hanging over the crib.

Nori spoke softly to his daughter, tears in his eyes as his heart was so heavy. Oh little one. "You promise me, you listen to your Amad, alright?" He told the baby. "She's the one with brains. Mahal..." He sighed deeply. "She's the one with everything. You're gonna worship her like I do as she's so perfect. As are you." He choked up at bit. "I'm so sorry I bring you two down. Just always know I love you both forever." He brushed the baby's cheek. "I may be a poor excuse of a dwarrow and an Adad. But no one could love you more than I do. Even if your grand-Adad will claim differently."

Jaida's heart clenched so fiercely to hear Nori speak of himself that way. It brought tears to her eyes. Stepping in so quietly and moved for him. "Nori." She whispered, reaching out and brushing her knuckles over his cheek.

He squeaked a bit surprised, looking up at her. "Jaida? Oh I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up. You need your rest." He kissed her knuckles lightly.

She shook her head, moving to sit in his lap. Looking so tenderly at him. "Nori, Mettalise couldn't have asked for a better Adad. And even if she did, Mahal wouldn't be able to give one to her. She already has the best in Arda." She whispered sincerely. Pressing her forehead against his. "Ok. The second best. Can't have my Adad getting offended now."

He chuckled softly as he stroked her back, looking into her eyes. "I just want to make you both happy. You two deserve the world and more." He mumbled to her as he sighed slightly.

"Nori you are my world. Mettalise is our world. I love you so much. I wouldn't trade you for anything." She turned her head as the baby stirred. Reaching over the crib and lifting her out.

"We created her." Nori whispered in awe but also still a bit of disbelief. "So tiny. And that little nose of hers. It's so cute." Nori sighed dreamy.

Jaida cradled the baby in her arms as she leaned entirely against Nori. Pulling her legs up beside her. "She's perfect. I could hardly imagine being able to love so many as much as I love her." She paused. "I want more." She whispered as the baby started to drift off again. Singing softly to lull her to sleep.

He kissed her shoulder gently, smiling the whole time. "Then we have many more. We need an army to keep your Adad busy."

She carefully moved from Nori's lap and placed the baby back in her crib. Tucking her in and kissing her forehead. "Well I'd say let's get to practicing. But I just gave birth this morning." She giggled softly.

Nori watched with a tender look in his eyes. "Give yourself a few weeks to recover my love. Then I'm sure Bofur wouldn't mind babysitting now and then." He winked playfully to his wife.

"Nor Ori and Dori. Or Adad and Uncle Balin. We have plenty of babysitters." She whispered, turning back to him and taking his hand. "Come now. Let's get back to sleep."

He squeezed her hand softly and they walked back to the bedroom. Laying down with her and cuddled her against his chest. "I adore you so much." He mumbled as he buried his face in her hair.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as she let out a yawn. Burying her face in the crook of his neck. "I know. And I you. And as will Mettalise. And every other child we have." She murmured.

"How many do you want?" Nori asked her softly as he combed his fingers through her hair, sighing happily as she was so close. Feeling her breath on his skin. This was home for him.

"As many as Mahal blesses us with." As many as they wanted. That they could handle. There were no limits for them now. The world was laid out on a silver platter for them.

[thecrochetcrowd]

19 Caron Baby Cakes Crochet Projects. Tiles for Miles Baby Blanket

19 Crochet Caron Baby Cakes Ideas

New to the family is the Caron Baby Cakes, a sister of the ever popular original Caron Cakes. Caron came out with a baby edition and considered the requests of crocheters and knitters to eliminate wool from the cakes. Now with 82% Acrylic with 18% Nylon. This yarn is super soft with soft muted tones with baby in mind.

Bonus Free Michaels Exclusive Pattern: Tiles for Miles Baby Blanket – Only Available to USA Residents. 

Gallery of Colours

At the time of launch, these colours were available exclusively at Michaels Stores.

Caron Baby Cakes: Sunny Day

Caron Baby Cakes: Sunny Day

Caron Baby Cakes: Rosebuds

Caron Baby Cakes: Rosebuds

Caron Baby Cakes: Frosted Pansies

Caron Baby Cakes: Frosted Pansies

Caron Baby Cakes: Fresh Air

Caron Baby Cakes: Fresh Air

Caron Baby Cakes: Dreamy Violet

Caron Baby Cakes: Dreamy Violet

Caron Baby Cakes: Dreamy Sky

Caron Baby Cakes: Dreamy Sky

Caron Baby Cakes: Dreamy Rose

Caron Baby Cakes: Dreamy Rose

Caron Baby Cakes: Dreamy Peach

Caron Baby Cakes: Dreamy Peach

Caron Baby Cakes: Dreamy Mint

Caron Baby Cakes: Dreamy Mint

Caron Baby Cakes: Daffodil

Caron Baby Cakes: Daffodil

Caron Baby Cakes: Citrus Delicious

Caron Baby Cakes: Citrus Delicious

Caron Baby Cakes: Ballerina

Caron Baby Cakes: Ballerina

Crochet Project Ideas using Caron Baby Cakes

You can pretty much use any existing baby project and use this yarn. I have scoured through what we have on file here. I have tutorials made for many baby projects. So I am giving suggestions on projects that will lend itself well. Use the recommended hook size on the label which is 5 mm or size H hook. You will need to figure out the yardage for quantity of balls needed. To help you, the yardage of one of these balls is 231 yards / 211 m. It’s classified as (4) Medium Weight.

Tutorials are inside the articles for your convenience. 

Baby Blankets

Geometric Baby Blanket

Happy Baby Blanket

Baby Star Blanket

Fluffy Meringue Baby Blanket – I think this would be stunning!

Baby Chevron / Zig Zag Blanket

Tumbling Blocks Baby Blanket – Corner to Corner

From the Middle Baby Blanket

Crochet Baby Bundle Blanket – Texture is Awesome

Crochet Easy Baby Blanket 

Easy Peasy Blanket Blanket

Baby Sweaters & Dress

Crochet Baby Pull Over

Flower Petal Cardigan

Easy Baby Jacket

Little Sweetie Dress

Hats

Kitty Hat

Teddy Bear Hat

Teeny Weeny Hat – Preemie

Teeny Weeny Hat – Newborn

Teeny Weeny Hat – up to 3 Months

Bonus Free Patterns Lookbooks

Yarnspirations has Lookbooks that offer free patterns in each. They are free. You flip through the book and see what you like. Click the pictures of what you like and it will take you to the patterns. Some have matching tutorials.

Little Forest Friends Knit and Crochet Lookbook by Yarnspirations

Country Mouse & City Mouse Lookbook by Yarnspirations

Stitch it Forward Lookbook by Yarnspirations

Modern Nursery Lookbook by Yarnspirations

19 Crochet Caron Baby Cakes Projects + Tutorials 19 Crochet Caron Baby Cakes Ideas New to the family is the Caron Baby Cakes, a sister of the ever popular original…