#wooden doll pram

[historicalfictionsims]

hi! where did u get the toys for samantha's christmas present? my kids never have enough :)

The doll Samantha is holding was made by me just for use in the screenshot, so it's not available to download.

@linzlu made Samantha's doll pram and teddy bear, which you can find here (they aren't functional toys but are still cute). I've also made Addy's Ida Bean doll, based on Kirsten's Sari doll by @ameyasims.

I recommend the toy teacup by @plumbobteasociety and wooden toddler blocks by gallaell00 on Mod the Sims. Around the Sims 4 has made a lot of toys, some of which can pass for historical. Be sure to browse the various categories and check out their advent calendars.

Hope that helps you find a few toys for your Sim kiddos!

[goatsonthemoves]

Shop Moover Wooden Doll Prams

Explore Gom Toys' collection of doll strollers, perfect for little ones who love playing with dolls. Our high-quality doll strollers are designed with realistic features and sturdy construction to withstand hours of imaginative play. Encourage creativity and nurturing skills with our adorable doll strollers.

[socialbrowse]

How to open a Stationery Shop

In a world that often seems dominated by screens and keyboards, the charm and utility of Stationery Shop persist. Opening a Stationery Shop is not just about selling pens, notebooks, and paper—it's about creating a haven for creativity, the place where the written word and artistic expression flourish. If you've ever dreamed of turning your passion for paper into a business venture, here's a step-by-step guide on how to open a Stationery Shop that inspires and captivates. It's a business that is available in big and small towns.

How to choose a Stationery Shop location

If you have your own space or want to rent a location, depending on the city or town size you may want to look at the following recommendations

Main Market shop:- Such a Stationery Shop covers customers in a wide area around it. These shops get much more frequent customers as people find it easily accessible. Such Stationery Shop need to keep a mixed variety of products like stationary and toys to get good sales.

Main road shop:- Such shops tend to be bigger in size with 1 to 3 floors. their advantage is the large variety of items they have as compared to the main road shop, this brings customers from all over the city to buy from you added facility like xerox machine and school projects items help in increasing sales of a Stationery Shop

Selecting the right location for your Stationery Shop is a critical decision. Aim for a spot with high foot traffic, visibility, and proximity to areas frequented by families. Consider the space size, storage requirements, and overall ambiance that will appeal to your target customers.

The layout of your Stationery Shop plays a crucial role in attracting and retaining customers. Create an inviting atmosphere that encourages exploration. Arrange your Stationery Shop in an organized and visually appealing manner, making it easy for customers to find what they want. Consider themed displays and interactive areas to enhance the overall shopping experience.

Types of Stationery Shop products

So, now you have a shop space for a Stationery Shop and you want to know what type of products to get for your Stationery Shop since the variety within Stationery is very vast we have categorized it in the following manner for ease of understanding:-Along with stationery products below is a small guide for buying toys, as most Stationery Shop keep toys to get additional sales.

By age:-

You will need toys for ages between 

0-3 - Baby products like these sell the most as every parent buys basic baby products like - walkers, prams, tricycles, or cycles at least once. Apart from these, products like building blocks, water teethers, and rattles all sell well in Stationery Shop

3-6 - At this age board games, card games like flashcards, electronic walking animals, and other electronic toys sell the most toys

6-12 - This is where remote control toys (R/c toys), Rubix Cubes, Helicopters, drones, and board games, dolls sell the most in the Stationery Shop

Return Gifts :

Some of the most profitable deals are made in this category, customers buy 20-100 pc of a single product or a combo mix of different low-cost products. It is good to have things like keyrings, stationery sets, balloons, and low-cost toys for such customers in your Stationery Shop

By Type :

Toys come in a wide variety, catering to different age groups, interests, and developmental stages in Stationery Shop

Stationery Shop products encompass a wide range of items that serve both practical and creative purposes. Whether for professional use, artistic expression, or educational needs, there's a diverse array of stationery products available. Here's a list of common types of Stationery Shop products:

Pens and Pencils:

Ballpoint pens, gel pens, rollerball pens, fountain pens, mechanical pencils, and traditional wooden pencils.

Notebooks and Notepads:

Blank, lined, or grid notebooks, spiral-bound notepads, and specialty notebooks for specific purposes (e.g., bullet journals, sketchbooks).

Paper:

Various types of paper, including printer paper, writing paper, specialty paper (such as watercolor or textured paper), and sticky notes.

Planners and Organizers:

Daily, weekly, or monthly planners, organizers, and calendars to help manage schedules and tasks.

Desk Accessories for your Stationery Shop:

Staplers, paper clips, tape dispensers, rulers, letter openers, and other items for organizing and enhancing desk spaces.

Folders and File Storage:

File folders, document organizers, binders, and filing cabinets for keeping documents organized.

Envelopes and Writing Paper:

Envelopes of various sizes and types, along with matching writing paper or letterhead for personal or professional correspondence.

Labels and Stickers:

Adhesive labels, address labels, and stickers for labeling and personalizing items.

Highlighters and Markers for your Stationery Shop:

Highlighters for emphasizing text, and markers in various colors for drawing, coloring, or creating visual aids.

Correction Tools:

Correction tape, correction fluid, erasers, and white-out for fixing mistakes on paper.

Stamps and Ink Pads:

Rubber stamps and ink pads for adding decorative or official imprints to documents.

Desk Calendars and Accessories:

Compact calendars are designed for desktop use, along with decorative accessories like paperweights and desk organizers.

Presentation Tools for your Stationery Shop:

Projectors, easels, and presentation boards for conveying information in meetings or classrooms.

Writing Instruments Storage:

Pencil cases, pen holders, and desk organizers for keeping writing instruments neatly arranged.

Scissors and Cutting Tools:

Scissors, paper cutters, and utility knives for cutting paper and other materials.

Arts and Crafts Supplies:

Craft paper, glue, colored markers, colored pencils, watercolor sets, and other artistic materials.

Calculators and Math Tools:

Basic calculators, scientific calculators, rulers with built-in measuring scales, and protractors.

Educational Tools for your Stationery Shop:

Compasses, protractors, rulers with metric and imperial measurements, and other tools for educational purposes.

Conference and Presentation Supplies:

Whiteboards, flip charts, and markers for presentations and collaborative work.

Technology Accessories:

USB drives, laptop stands, and other accessories that complement digital devices.

Note Card Sets for your Stationery Shop:

Sets of blank note cards for personalized messages or special occasions.

Office Furniture:

Office chairs, desks, and shelving units for creating a functional workspace.

These are just a few examples, and the world of stationery offers countless options to suit various preferences, needs, and creative endeavors. Whether you're setting up a home office, preparing for back-to-school, or nurturing your artistic side, the right stationery products can make a significant difference in organization and productivity.To buy toys and stationery products at wholesale prices you can go to 

Sellet.in and register to get the largest wholesale variety of toys at the best prices delivered directly to your Stationery Shop. Sellet sells to 1700 shops across 29 states and UTs in India already and it is one of the most trusted places for wholesale purchases of Stationery Shop.

Sales and Margin

The Stationery Shop has good margins in the retail business which is 20% to 70% on purchase value. As an example a product bought for Rs.20 will sell between Rs.30 to Rs.40. There are also some expenses like broken items, torn copy covers, and more such things which you have to account for.

Sales in the big city depending on the shop can range from 5 lacs to 15 lacs monthly. 

Sales in small towns can range from 1 lacs to 10 lacs monthly.

Shop after deducting all expenses can expect between 25% to 40% profit margin.

Diverse Product Offering: - Curate a wide range of Stationery products to cater to different age groups, interests, and popular trends.

Seasonal Promotions: - Plan and execute targeted promotions during peak seasons, holidays, and special occasions to boost sales.

Loyalty Programs: - Implement a loyalty program to encourage repeat business and customer retention.

Cross-Selling and Upselling: - Train staff to recommend complementary products and upsell higher-margin items.

Online Sales Channel: - Establish a robust online presence with e-commerce capabilities to reach a broader customer base.

Conclusion

Opening a Stationery Shop is not just a business venture; it's a celebration of creativity, self-expression, and the enduring appeal of paper. By following these steps and infusing your passion into every detail, you'll be well on your way to creating a stationery haven that not only meets but exceeds the expectations of your customers. Unleash the power of the written word and artistic expression, and watch your stationery shop become a cherished part of your community. The blank pages are waiting—it's time to write your success story! Thanks for Reading...

[stacyharmon27]

Buy Doll Prams and Strollers Online in Australia | Knock On Wood Toys

Looking for a Dolls Prams & Strollers for kids? Knock On Wood Toys offers the best baby doll prams and strollers in Australia that are not only the perfect accompanying toy for dolls, they also help kids to find their balance and walk with confidence. All the strollers and prams come with rubber grip on the wheels, because of this feature, standing and movement can be supportive for all stages of walking. To order wooden dolls prams and strollers, visit https://www.knockonwoodtoys.com.au/dolls-dolls-houses/dolls-prams-and-strollers

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Postpartum Depression | B.Barnes

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: Husband!Bucky. You struggle to cope with motherhood and when Bucky finds out he talks you into seeking help. Warnings: post-natal depression, dark thoughts, depression, panic attacks, mention of child death in nightmares - please don’t read if this will trigger you WC: 1.4k

Your mind would not allow you a second of peace, a million thoughts raced around your head, situations that would likely never come true but still plagued your mind nonetheless. You couldn’t understand where the thoughts came from, you had lived a fearless life as a secret agent but now you were crippled by the unknown. This should have been the happiest time of your life, you had everything you ever wanted.

You looked over at your sleeping husband and the bassinet that was parked beside him. Bucky was the doting father you knew he would be, it came absolutely natural to him and you were slightly jealous at how well he adapted. His soft snores were the only sound that disturbed the silent night and his arm was hung over the edge of the bassinet so your daughter’s tiny fingers could grip his pinky in comfort. They had a bond you feared you never would.

Feelings of inadequacy rose in your chest and you bit your knuckle to stop the cry that was building from escaping and you slipped out of the bed to creep away from the perfect image. You couldn’t handle disturbing them from their peaceful slumber, you already felt guilty for being the imperfect mother. Silent tears ran down your cheeks as you sat at the kitchen island and dropped your forehead to the cool marble benchtop.

If only you could sleep. Then again, even if you did, the nightmares wouldn’t let you rest. Alien invasions crashing into your house and collapsing your child in the rubble. A stray bullet from a carjacking went wrong hitting the pram as you strolled by. An old enemy of Bucky’s coming back to destroy him and using your baby to do it. Those were just a few of the wildly imaginative thoughts that crept into your dreams on the rare occasion you could fall asleep.

You had been trained to withstand psychological torture but this was more than you could take. No matter what you did in your dreams, no matter how hard you fought, you always lost. You would wake up drenched in sweat after cradling your baby and watching life fade from her eyes. You could never save her.

Your breath shuddered in your chest as you cried silently on your own, you always felt alone. You tried to make plans and get out to see your friends but stepping over the threshold held a fear you never felt before. You couldn’t predict what was going to happen on the other side of that door and it twisted knots in your stomach. No, it was safer to stay inside.

“Doll?” You tensed at the sudden presence of your husband, so caught up in your own head you hadn’t heard his footsteps padding across the wooden floors. “Are you crying?”

His warm hand brushed the nape of your neck and he under your chin to lift your head up off the marble. He didn’t need enhanced senses to see the bloodshot eyes you had or the dampness coating your cheeks and concern filled his frowning face.

“Baby, what's wrong?” He asked as he spun your chair around and cradled your face in his hands. “Talk to me.”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” You sniffled, wiping your wet eyes and giving him the fake smile you had perfected over the weeks. “Hormones.”

“You know I know you, right?” He said as he crouched so you were eye to eye and your smile broke. “I know my wife, and I know when she’s lying. You can talk to me about anything.”

“Not about this.” You whispered as you closed your eyes. “No one talks about this.”

“What is this?” He asked. “Explain it to me.”

“Why? So you can call child services on me?” You snapped and pulled his hands away. “Tell them what a terrible mother I am? That I can’t even take care of myself.”

“Woah, woah, slow down. Take a breath.” He murmured softly. “Nobody’s calling anyone and who said you were a terrible mother?”

You could hear the edge of threat in his tone and you knew if you gave him a name, that person would be taking a long walk off a short pier. The problem was it was you, your own mind telling you what a bad mother you were. Every time your baby cried and wouldn’t settle for you. Every time the nurse weighed her and told you she was above weight or below weight or anything other than what her stupid little graph depicted as normal. Every time you heard the unworthy whispers.

“Who said you were a terrible mother, y/n!” Bucky growled as he stepped into your space and you tipped back in your chair as you cowered away, not in fear or him but his reaction as you admitted the truth.

“I did.”

Every emotion played across his face like a movie and you watched the anger melt to confusion before settling on pity. His eyebrows furrowed together as he pulled you off the chair and against his bare chest, his dog tags digging into your skin. His deep breaths were all you could focus on as the silence dragged on, his mouth opening but not able to form the words he wanted to say.

“When did you last sleep?”

You shrugged in his embrace.

“I can’t sleep. What if something happens to Becca?” You said, feeling the anxiety at the thought grip your chest tight. “What if she needs me but I don’t wake up in time?”

Breathing became painful, sharp stabs to your lungs as images from your nightmares flashed before your eyes. You could see Bucky’s mouth moving but all you could hear was the pounding of blood in your ears, the pulsating beat that was driving you insane. Every muscle in your body was weak and you fell into Bucky’s chest as your rapid breaths left your head spinning.

Some part of you recognised what was happening, from the times it was Bucky lost in your embrace, but you couldn’t seem to fight the panic attack. Blackspots dotted your vision and your thoughts drifted away to a quiet you hadn’t felt in weeks.

“Y/N, focus on my voice.” You heard a voice calling you home. “Count with me. One, two, three-”

“Four.” You took a small breath. “Five.”

You took a breath every time he did and counted with him until you reached twenty and your vision cleared.

“Atta girl.” He soothed while he led you over to the couch, pushing the mountain of laundry that was piling up on it, another thing you never got around to doing. “You gotta give yourself a break babe, you’re the best mother our girl could have.”

“I’m off missions, off work. This is a break.”

A rumble in his chest turned to a growl of disgust as his lip curled.

“This is not a break.” He said as he waved his hand around the messy room. “You have the hardest job there is. You are holding down the fort and raising our girl, making a home full of memories. Up day and night feeding, changing, comforting her. That is not a break, love. I can take some time off and you can take some time to yourself, whatever you want.”

“I don’t want to leave her, ever.” You shook your head. “What if something happens?”

“Who am I?” He chuckled. “I can protect our daughter, y/n.”

“I know, I just, I…”

“I think you should talk to Dr Raynor.” He said and grabbed your hand as you tried to pull away. “Hey, she helped me…talk. Maybe she can help you too.”

You opened your mouth to argue, especially after hearing him complain about the Doctor after every visit, but he held a hand up and pinned you with his blue eyes.

“You are burning the candle at both ends. I know you want to do what is best for Becca but you can only do that if you look after yourself first.” His eyes searched you for an argument but you had none, he was right, you could barely hold yourself up with the weight on your shoulders, how could you protect her. “If you won’t go for yourself, go for our little girl.”

“Ok.” You whispered, a slither of the crushing guilt fading from that one word. “I think I need help.”

[preettyinpine]

We are Pretty in Pine, a family run business, founded in 2014, that celebrates women creating and working together. Australian made by us in our Southeast Queensland factory and grounded in the philosophy of ‘quality over quantity’. We strive to ensure exceptional handmade products are delivered to our customers. Made from 100% sustainable hoop pine plywood harvested from plantations in Queensland. We handcraft children’s toys and wall art that can be cherished and passed down for years to come.  

For More Information Visit - https://www.prettyinpine.com/

[pherelesytsia]

Read me to Sleep

Pairing: Dad!Spencer Reid x female Reader

Summary: Spencer takes care of his children.

Warning: Pure teeth rotting Fluff, Spencer being a loving and carrying father.

Word Count: 1.1k

a/n:. Requests are open!!!

Spencer Reid Masterlist

Spencer laughed blissfully. Carefully, his hand slid over the gossamer hair. No more words crossed his mouth, had read out the last sentence of the chapter of the story his daughter loved the most.

Stars shone faintly and curtains were drawn. A peaceful, soothing tranquillity reigned in the room and throughout the entire house. Again the man laughed, remembering the moments when Sophia´s laughter let his heart melt as she danced over the grass in a princess gown. Spencer had spent the afternoon in the garden with his daughter, laughing and standing under the parasol with the pram, watching over his sleeping son as Sophia played under the apple tree with her dolls. He loved to spend his free time with his children, but Spencer couldn’t remember the last time he read a novel, which didn’t include princesses and magical horses. The loving father had long since emptied the cup of tea at his side. With one hand, he closed the book and placed it on the armrest of the dark brown armchair.

Footsteps brought him out of his thoughts, yet fear didn’t cloud his senses, dressed in a light button-down and a pair of old jeans in dark tones. Again, Spencer grinned, watching his wife leaning against the frame of the dark wooden door and gazing across the room filled with lovely memories which could not be forgotten. Immediately, Spencer noticed how tears veiled her gaze. Y/n wiped away the traces adorning her cheeks. The long white shirt she had stolen from Spencer covered her, allowing him to see the contour of her body, to see every curve he loved, knowing how much his wife suffered as she realised her body would probably never be what it was once.

Asleep, Theo lay on his dad's naked chest, his small hands resting on his father's chest right above his beating heart.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear him," Y/N apologised, not having heard the six-month-old boy's soft cries for love.

Laughing, Spencer shook his head. The top buttons of his button-down were undone, knowing Theo loved direct physical contact, knowing he immediately relaxed if he felt skin under his touch. Spencer placed his hand on his son's back but remained seated, sensing he would not like it if they rose. For another moment, he wanted to cherish the moment, wanted to feel his son's heart clashing with his, wanted to feel his breath colliding with his skin.

“I thought he would stay asleep, but I see I was wrong." Y/N continued, had hoped she could enjoy a moment of peace in the bathtub, knowing Theo could be without her for a half-hour till he realised he was alone.

Spencer laughed again, unable to believe what his wife had said, loved every moment he could spend with his children, loved them from the bottom of his heart.

"Love, you spend all day with our children. I hardly see them, and that Theo woke up is not your fault. You deserve a moment of rest. Sophie is already asleep, before I could turn the first page, Theo let me know he needed you," Spencer said in a loving tone.

Slowly Spencer rose from the chair he had been sitting in most of the time. Theo's eyelids moved but fast they fell shut again, felt his father's beating heart under his hands, knew he wasn’t alone, that everything was all right. Soft, incomprehensible sounds came over his full lips. Theo smacked softly, letting Spencer chuckle in delight.

Leaving behind the toys which let him know Sophia had played with dolls and blocks on the floor, he looked at his sleeping daughter one last time and noticed Y/N in one of his white T-shirts walking slowly towards the bed. His heart swelled. The light made Y/n's eyes shine and Spencer felt like a normal man.

Gently Y/N place the blanket on Sophia, whispered hush words as she hid her short legs under the light-coloured material. Y/N returned the pillow which had fallen to the floor and switched on the small inconspicuous light in the socket next to the bed, knowing how much the six-year-old who fully resembled her father loathed the darkness and shadows forming into dangerous creatures.

Silent words came over Y/N as she bent down and breathed a kiss on her daughter's forehead. Y/N couldn't believe her own eyes, remembered the morning Sophia was born. Leaving the bed behind Y/N switched off the lamp next to the armchair where her husband once sat and turned her back to the window covered by the long pink curtains. Y/N quickly noted that her husband had been watching her all this time with Theo in his arms.

Spencer rocked back and forth, softly uttering words to make it impossible for the boy who had his eyes to awake from deep slumber.

"Sophia told me how much she was looking forward to school when we ate breakfast," "I know, she told me as soon as I started reading. She asked me if we could look around for a school bag. She already knows which one she wants," Spencer replied in a calm tone, not wanting to wake Theo up.

“With a pony and a fairy.” Y/N laughed, knowing her daughter well.

Spencer nodded in approval, remembered what the girl had said. He wanted to look at his wife but couldn't take his eyes off his son, who was resting peacefully on his chest.

"She reminds me more and more of you. She is too smart for her age." Y/N joked, walking toward the two most important men in her life.

Spencer nodded, not able to respond, knew his wife was right. Y/N stopped directly in front of Spencer and noticed Theo was clinging to his father’s clothing like a little monkey, did not seem to ever want to let go of him.

Standing on tiptoes, Y/N breathed loving words and placed her lips on Spencer’s. The young mother couldn't get enough of the sight, tried to memorise the peaceful expression, felt the tears making their way down her cheeks, couldn't imagine a better father, a better husband than Spencer by her side.

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Monster-Making: Art Block Support

Use the Random Number Generator to help you pick out a mundane item to incorporate into the design or mythos of a monster / cryptid / creature you create!

Slinky

Vine

Revolving Door

Fountain

Glass/Cup

Lamp (Street or Desk)

Unfinished painting

Screwdriver or Wrench

Cables / Extention Cord

Piece of corrugated iron, any shape

Hay

Seeing Stone (Rock with hole in it)

Nail polish

Jar of glitter

Corset

Garden Hose

Glowing egg

Goggles (swimming, ski or pilot)

Pages from a book or tome

Adult Inflatable Partner (Possessed) or Other item (Likely Cursed)

Hairtie

Postbox (house or communal)

Paddlepop sticks

Hairbrush (Any kind) or Comb

Buttons

Baby Pram (Modern)

Baby Pram (Old-Fashioned)

Candle (any colour) - Large

Glowsticks

Scissors

Deck of cards that are not from the same game or deck (eg. Queen of hearts, Pokemon card, Jack of Spades from another set, 2 x magic the gathering cards from different releases)

Deck of Cards (regular)

Dog or Cat Collar / Harness with bells

Spoon (Wooden or Metal)

Life-preserver ring from an old boat

Art Project from a high-schooler

Decorative 'vase' found in student dorms

Small to medium statue of any kind found at an op shop

Thifted shirt that has an odd logo and can't be removed

Tweezers or Tongs

Empty DVD case

Body part or organ in a jar of ominous liquid (dusty)

Spice Rack

Spiderweb

Pen or Quill

Gravestone Intact or broken)

Roadflare or firework

Earring (singular)

Earrings (Plural)

Glow in the Dark Stars

Bandages

Crosstich project

Brochure or guidebook

Shard of stone or parchment with hieroglyphics, cuneform or runes on this

An actual helicopter

Cane or walking aid

Cushion

Potpourri

Cat toy (any)

Tennis Ball or Frisbee

Washing Machine or Dryer

Coathanger(s)

Succulent / Indoor plant (Any)

Garbage Bin or Compost Bin

Road Sign (Stop, Give Way, Speed Limit)

Gold and/or prosthetic Tooth (Own or taken)

Dentures (Any)

Bubble Wrap

Cheap Bottle of Bubbles and Wand

Computer Tower / Stack (No noted power source)

Set of coloured pencils

Ladder

A whole emergency vehicle (Fire, ambulance, police)

Fence post

Headphones (any)

Cardboard box

Single piece of fruit (unblemished, fresh)

A necklace of dolls' eyes

Bottle of pills, some potentially tic tacs

Feather Duster

Lava Lamp

Hot Water Bottle

Bullet or Artillery Shell

Thermometer

Weather Vane

Bucket

Cotton Thread (Spooled or Tangled)

Pins or Safety Pins

Sticky Tape and/or dispenser

A pair of shoes

Solitary shoe

All the missing left socks

Piggy Bank (Any form)

Hillshoist Washing Line

Plush toy or animal-shaped pillow/cushion

Beanbag

Aquarium

Sheet of Stickers (unused)

VHS Player or an old ATARI system

Paint (single colour or set)

[travellvogue]

“Mummy! Daddy! Santa came!”- Trent Alexander-Arnold

12 Days of Christmas- Day 12:

You weren’t even shocked that the digital alarm clock at the side of your bed shone a bright, red, 5:34am into the room. When you have three kids under the age of five this was always bound to happen, it was Christmas day after all. 

Your little boy came bounding into the room, clutching his favourite toy- a bunny you’d given him the day he was born that had now, quite frankly, seen better days. His mini dressing gown tied messily around his waist and his curls sticking up in every direction. In that moment he was the epitome of cute. Skipping with excitement and climbing onto the edge of your bed, a chubby finger poked the two of you awake. Trent groans at the early rise, it was still dark outside, the fog still dancing around the grass of the garden, a stray dog toy that had been left out there now damp with the morning dew. He’d never been an early risen, ever since the two of you first met, remembering how he’d groan at you to come back to bed when you woke up at eight o’clock on a Sunday. But you could think of worse ways to wake up right now, to see your little Cairo beyond excited for Christmas made the 5am wake up worth it. 

“Hi buddy” Trent yawns, letting him sit in the bend between his groin and knees, stroking his fingers through his messy curls- just like you did to him. “Where’s ya brother?” he asks lazily, mid-yawn, admittedly it’d be great if Jackson was still in bed, at least then Trent could stay in the warmth of the covers for a little longer. 

“Mummy! Daddy! Santa came!” Trent’s question is answered by an excitable squeal from your middle child, at the age of three he hadn’t learnt that the kids would open their stockings on your bed and then head downstairs for the grand reveal of their main presents once the room was covered in small bits of wrapping paper and foil from the chocolate coins already devoured.

“He’s not meant to be down there!” you hiss at Trent who nervously holds his hands up, not wanting to take the blame for your curious toddler. 

The two of you had been up until two in the morning setting up all the presents, laying glitter around T’s feet so you could tell the kids they were Santa’s footsteps, fake snow dusted around every surface it could hold to. Even trying to hold in a giggle when Trent gagged dramatically as he took a bite of the mince pie, only the run to the bin and spit it out. ‘The things I do for these kids’ he’d mumbled under his breath, leaving the other half of the pie and the half chewed carrots on the plate by the fireplace. 

Luckily, Sophia was too young to walk yet, so there was only one kid to scoop up off the staircase. “You’ve been good all year, don’t start being naughty now mister” you tickle Jackson’s belly, his pyjama top wet around the collar from his habit of chewing it during the night. Stroking his chubby cheeks whilst carrying him back upstairs and heading into the nursery where your little girl had woken from the commotion of her brothers. Her hands desperately gripping at the sides of her cot to help her legs support her own weight. 

Watching her coo at you, bouncing her bum at the exciting sight of mummy made you wonder if having another baby would be the perfect finish to your family. They just seem to grow up so fast.

Stockings were quickly ripped open, a pile of wrapping paper rapidly amounting in the corner of your bedroom. A choir of ‘thank you mumma, thank you dadda’ from your two boys, their wide smiles warming your heart as they compare colouring books, sparkly pens, and toy trains. Soph was still too young to understand what was going on, but despite that she was still having fun sitting on Trent’s lap ripping at the leftover wrapping paper whilst he tried to explain the pair of tiny bunny slippers he’d opened for her.

Still, she doesn’t grasp the idea of unwrapping her presents, even when you’re downstairs and Trent tries to tempt her to peel a corner off the box for her toy pram for her dolls. Instead a loud giggle or a blubbered ‘dadda’ does the job instead. Cairo and Jackson, were quick to help her with the unwrapping whilst she watched on, completely bewildered by the concept. Luckily the boys had a far more animated response, screaming the house down when they noticed Rudolph had enjoyed the carrots they left out… if only they knew. 

It’s safe to say the wooden train track was by far the boy’s favourite gift, a track set up across the floor of the living room, snacking into the hallway and threatening to spill into the kitchen. The noises and animations coming from them making you giggle continuously. Soph was sat at Trent’s feet, the dogs sniffing at the Sylvanian Families in her hand, taking keen interest in the mummy rabbit one. Despite being a clean freak, the mess of the living room didn’t bother you one bit, in fact it added to the atmosphere, everything was a bit chaotic and hectic- but when was it not in the Alexander-Arnold household with three kids running riot?

“Merry Christmas, baby” you whisper to Trent, resting your head on his shoulder and watching your boys try an attempt to put a train in Sophia’s hand and onto the wooden train track, so far it wasn’t going very well, instead the Sylvanian Families resting on top of the wooden trains was a far better idea according to Soph.

“Merry Christmas sweetheart, I’m so lucky” he says gently, rubbing his hand on your thigh, watching the kids with the same admiration as you did. “Y’know..” he hums, “Three’s an odd number, I think four sounds much better” you let out a breathy chuckle against his shoulder, gently fiddling with the gold band of his wedding ring. 

“I think so too” you smile. 

tags: @footballdaydream @footballerimaginess @prettylittletrent @evie-pr @hnrfc

[ccohanlon]

rising

They were digging up pipes in the alley again.

Three young men in orange overalls stood waist- deep in a trench trench, unfazed by an acrid smell of human waste that filled the narrow, cobble- stoned dead-end. One of the young men had a lighted cigarette in his mouth and there was a sudden, loud pop and a flash of blue-green flame as it ignited a tendril of leaking biogas. Fearless of the risk of a bigger explosion, the three men just cackled and kept on working.

A few of us stood in our doorways, watching. The medina's sewers were often blocked and sometimes, they overflowed into the courtyards of our riads, submerging the tiled floors beneath a vomitous soup of decomposed excrement.

In the past couple of days, different parts of the medina had been flooded by what was thought to be sea-water. It had risen from public drains, some said, or had seeped from dubious hollows beneath the medina's oldest neighbourhoods. Others had seen it streaming from the seams of a medieval sea gate beneath the north-west ramparts, at the onset of the spring tide. But no-one had given it much thought: the inexplicable had been a commonplace of life here for over a thousand years — sometimes incidents of it were recalled as miracles.

The alley darkened as the sun dipped below the medina walls. A tinny crackle, a second or two of ringing feedback, then the dissonant, amplified drone of mua'dhinns from different mosques calling the faithful together for the last salah of the day — salat al-'asr. I waited until everybody else had retreated inside their riads and closed the doors before I did the same.

It had been two weeks since the wind had died. At this time of year, midway through summer, the north-easterly trade wind the Berbers called the taros was relentless. Seldom blowing less than 20 knots, day or night, along the Atlantic coast, it cooled the coastal towns and villages and held the flies and mosquitoes at bay. It was unusual — and for locals, unsettling — for calm to endure for more than a few days. You could still hear the  remnants of the south-going swell tumbling over the inshore reefs to break against the medina's westernmost walls.

I had found a small hardwood table and bench in a storage room on my riad's rooftop. I dragged them across the fractured tiles and positioned them in the one spot where there was a view — framed by crumbling plaster and unpainted breeze-block — of a sliver of ocean. I sat at the table and scribbled random observations of the past few days in pencil in a small, spiral notebook. They were rudimentary, unembellished, more aides-memoire than diary. I was not a writer. I was not even a note-maker. I still can't explain why I felt the need to do this.

I can't explain the Dowayo doll, either. I found it at the back of the same storage room. Carved from sub-Saharan rosewood, bound with tiny red beads and cowrie shells, it had been tossed into a pile of kindling and charcoal, and was covered with dust. I wiped it clean with a damp cloth and placed it on the table as a kind of totem. Dowayo dolls are supposed to encourage fertility in young girls of the Namji tribe in north-western Cameroon. I wondered how it had made its way here across 3,000 miles of desert.

Every morning since I moved into the riad, this old man pedalled down the alley on a rusty, French-built bicycle, towing a makeshift trailer. The trailer was the chassis and axle of a baby's pram, married to a wooden fruit box. As he rode, he squeezed a rubber-bulbed air horn clamped to the handlebars — it sounded like a goose's honk — to remind everyone to bring out their empty plastic bottles. He stopped at each riad to collect them and to spray the stoop and gutters with rose-scented antiseptic. If nothing else, it masked the smell of cat piss.

I always woke before dawn, to the mua'dhinns' first calls to prayer, but I stayed in bed until I heard the old man's horn as he turned into the alley. Then I got up, gathered my bottles from the kitchen and met him outside the front door.

I hadn't heard his horn today. Above the riad's open roof, the sun had already burned off the pale grey stratus of the marine layer, so it was late morning. I crab-walked barefoot down the curving tiled staircase to the ground-floor courtyard and stepped into cold water. For a few, gag-inducing seconds, I thought it was sewerage from the household drains and I cursed the young workers who had dug up the alley. But the water was clear and smelled faintly of seaweed left too long in the sun.

I waded barefoot along the flooded alley to the junction with the long avenue that was one of the medina's main thoroughfares. A shallow river flowed along it from the direction of the harbour, carrying with it rafts of refuse and debris. The stalls that sold leather bags, shoes, carved wooden bowls and boxes, colourful carpets, djellabas, argan oil, incense, and scented candles were all shuttered and the cafés had packed away their tables and chairs. There was no-one on the streets, not even the wizened mendicants that worked the tourist trade. I walked to another alley, a short-cut to the souk. Carozza men, pushing wooden carts piled with luggage, led groups of jittery, dishevelled tourists along it towards the bus terminal on the other side of the medina.

The water had yet to reach the souk but most of the stalls were empty. A few elderly women carried plastic bags filled with green vegetables and live chickens, clutched upside down by their legs. Fruit sellers with long trays filled with tomatoes, cherries and baskets of desiccated figs and apricots were wheeling them eastwards, towards the gate that exited into the medina's pub- lic car park.

"Is everywhere closed?" I asked one of them.

"Rimal. Le sable.”

"Sand?”

"Oui. Ça arrive." He waved towards an empty sky but I noticed, then, that the wind had returned. It felt hot and dry."Chergui," he said.

As if to make up for this news, he handed me a brown paper bag filled with ripe tomatoes.

The flood reached the souk as rivulets cascading over steps and sidewalks from colonnades on either side of the road, flushing the copper-tinged stench of blood from the floors of fishmongers, butchers, and poultry slaughterers into the street.

By nightfall, the water level in the riad's courtyard had receded a little — the semi-diurnal tide, I thought, nothing more than a brief respite. The electricity and fresh water had been cut off and the riad was dark, the only source of light an aqueous half-moon over the roof. The cloistered, inside-outside architecture of a riad — open to the sky, full of bright, reflected light by day, yet cool, with shaded vaults, and as protective as a medieval keep — was everything I had ever wanted of a house. But tonight, it felt besieged.

I climbed up the narrow stairwell to the rooftop. I unrolled a heavy canvas covering and slid its rectangular hem over the timber balustrade surrounding the open part of the roof. Tied down with elasticised cord looped over hooks at the base of the newel posts, it looked like a military tent. The irony of sealing the roof while the sea flooded the courtyard below was not lost on me but a strong chergui could carry enough sand from inland to bury the whole medina.

When I was done, I shinned my way up one of the crumbling plaster walls around the roof to see what I could of my neighbours — did I still have neighbours? The only light was from a rooftop two buildings away, where a family sat kindling a fire in a makeshift brick fire-pit. On a wall next to them, hung by bound hind legs on a butcher's hook, the carcass of a freshly killed goat, skinned, gutted and beheaded. One of the women waved to me. I waved back but felt suddenly embarrassed and a little lonely.

The wind was rising. To the east, the stars were disappearing behind by filaments of sand-laden stratus. I eased myself down the wall, picked up the Dowayo doll from my desk, and headed downstairs.

The wind and sand scoured the roof all night, the strongest gusts clawing at the roof tent as gouts of sand ricocheting across it like buckshot. By dawn, so much sand had accumulated that the door from the stairwell wouldn't open. But the wind had died.

A change of tide had swelled the sea in the courtyard, too, its surface strewn with granules of fine, orange dust.

I gathered a few clothes from drawers and wardrobes and packed them into an oiled canvas rucksack I had bought for desert hikes I never actually set out on. I added a Swiss army folding knife, as well as my passport, a notebook and pencil, a few hundred dollars in cash, a pair of well-worn Birkenstocks, and a wide-brimmed folding hat. In the kitchen, I found three large bottles of mineral water. and strapped them, along with a rolled, foam mat, a lightweight windcheater, and the Dowayo doll to the outside of the rucksack. I donned jeans and a long-sleeved, white, cotton shirt. I tied the laces of my canvas sneakers together and slung them over my shoulder.

The water in the alley had deepened. It came up to the knees of a gnarled old woman, who stood mid-stream, her black djellaba billowing around her like a buoyancy aid. I recognised her as one of my neighbours.

"Partez-vous?" she asked, as I waded past her. I nodded.

"Allez à l'est. Il ne reste plus rien au nord." Her tone was doleful but resigned.

I had not yet decided where I would head or even whether I was leaving. At the avenue at the end of the alley, I turn not east, towards the gate at the far end of the empty souk and beyond, the desert, but west, towards the sea.

The faithful were gathered outside a crowded mosque at the top of the avenue. They stood or sat on upturned plastic crates in the water to listen to voice of their imam over speakers mounted above the mosque's gates. On the far side of the wide square that filled the space between the last of the medina's buildings and the sea, sand dunes scaled the castellated stone walls of the old port. The square itself was an archipelago of barren, sandy cays scattered across a muddy sea.

I clambered over hillocks of coarse wet sand and bales of tangled nets and polypropylene rope blocking the passageway to the quayside. Hundreds of open, timber fishing-boats, all of them painted Egyptian blue, were unmoored and jammed together in every direction by the incoming tide; several had grounded on the submerged quay. I eased myself over the gunwhale of the nearest boat, into the deep well of its hull, then clambered onto the sternsheets to step across to the next boat, and the next, until I reached the outermost of the flotilla.

It was on old boat but solid, with a dry bilge. Oars were laid on the sole of its hull. Beneath a poorly secured hatch, I found two fuel tanks, both full, and an Evinrude outboard engine that I could start without a key. I laid my rucksack on the midship thwart. The Dowayo doll watched over me as set to work mounting the engine on the transom.

I waited until high water, that afternoon, to cast off. I drifted on the ebb through the outer harbour, between slab-sided, timber trawlers and the high, stone breakwaters, into the open Atlantic. A long, steep swell was still running, the last vestige of the once relentless taros. Last night’s hard wind had streaked the crests with whitecaps. I pulled the cord to start the outboard. The boat rolled as her stern lifted on the shoulder of a wave.

I shaped a rough course south-west. I had no chart, no compass, no waypoint to sail towards, but it didn't matter now. All bearings were lost. I would trace the contours of a new shore, where the desert had somehow become one with the sea.

First published in the collection, Zahir: Desire & Eclipse, a book by Zeno Press (edited by Christian Patracchini), UK, 2020.

[cerezsis]

Pastels and Mobiles

Polydiamond Family AU

Chapter One

Summary: The diamonds wish to expand their family.

--

           The happy shrieks of human children rang in the ears of everyone in attendance of what Steven had called a “backyard birthday party.” The small gaggle of adolescence chased each other through the grass, past the two large trees with the colorful balloons tied to the trunk, and the large banner that hung between them that read “Happy Birthday Lisa!”

           White watched everything unfold from the comfort of the otherwise empty party table. Yellow had shrunken them down so they could attend the party, but she felt so out of place that she might as well have stayed her natural size. Blue and Yellow had gotten swept into a conversation with a pair of humans she didn’t recognize, and Spinel was having the time of her life with the children, leaving White to feel even more isolated in the sea of humans and Crystal Gems.

           A small but sudden tug on her skirt brough White out of her thoughts. She looked down just in time to see the light green toddler climb onto her lap. Before she could ask what she was up to, Mint grabbed a handful of the nuts that were set out on the table, shoved them into her mouth, and ran off without ever uttering a word.

           White chuckled as she watched her daughter run back over to the human children. Seeing her next to Steven’s two children, it amazed her how quickly humans aged compared to gems. Lisa and Dominic were only eleven and nine, but despite Mint’s older age of twenty-five, she was physically and developmentally at the stage they were at the age of three.

           While she watched Mint play, White saw out of the corner of her eye that someone had sat down at the table with her. She turned, expecting to see Yellow or Blue, but was surprised and delighted to see the half-diamond man who invited her to this party.

           “Oh, Steven!” White grinned.

           Steven smiled, politely, back at her.

           “You know you don’t have to sit here all day. You could join the party.”

           Of course she knew that. Of course she knew she knew she could, but the thought of leaving her little corner filled her with a sense of dread.

           “Oh, I’m perfectly fine right here,” White said, masking her anxiety with a smile, “I enjoy watching the children have their fun.”

           She looked back over at the group of kids, noticing that Mint and Dominic were no longer with the group. While the older kids playfully hit each other with balloon swords, Dominic had taken Mint aside to sit in the shade and blow bubbles.

           “Your Dominic is such a kind child,” White grinned, “He reminds me so much of you when you were younger.”

           Steven smiled. “I think he’s still shy around Lisa’s friends. She’s a bit caught up in her birthday right now, but she usually tries to help him feel better.”

           White nodded and grinned. She loved hearing him talk about his children, and she especially loved the bond the two of them shared. Ever since Dominic was born, Lisa had been very protective of him. Steven had loved to tell the story of how when he’d brought Lisa to see Connie and baby Dominic in the hospital, she had the most starry-eyed look upon seeing her baby brother for the first time. The way he told it was so precious, and White hoped to see something like that for herself one day.

           The day went on, and the party began to wind down. The diamonds gathered Mint and Spinel, said their goodbyes to Steven, Connie, and the children, and boarded their ship, where Yellow restored them to their natural size. From the monitor, they could see the humans that were still at the party staring up as the ship began to take off. Blue and Yellow put their hands together to make their ships form a heart shape, and then they quickly took off, much to the amazement of the small crowd.

           White breathed a sign of relief as they began to leave the stratosphere. As much as she loved seeing Steven and his children, she was elated to finally be heading home.

           “Mommyyyyyy,” a tiny voice came from behind.

           White turned around to see Mint staring up at her.

           “When can we go back to Earth?” Mint asked.

           “As soon as Steven invites us next.”

           “When will that be?”

           “Mint, come here for a moment,” Blue gently urged, knowing that Mint would just keep spouting off the same questions she always did if she wasn’t distracted.

           Mint turned and ran over to Blue. Blue picked her up and took her to sit by the controls. White watched as Blue explained what all the controls did, and every now and then having to stop the toddler from pressing buttons.

           A few hours later, they were finally back on Homeworld. White looked at the view of the world from the screen as the ship landed. The sun had almost completely set, but many gems were still walking the streets. A certain gem caught her eye; a howlite that she recognized as once belonging to her court, happily pushing a pram down the street. White couldn’t help but smile to herself. Just a couple decades ago, seeing a juvenile gem was considered to be a once in a lifetime experience. Now, you could hardly turn a corner without seeing a gem with an infant in her arms or holding hands with a toddler. Seeing the old-fashioned method of gem production becoming popular again was wonderful, both because it meant their population growth wouldn’t fall too much now that they weren’t using kindergartens anymore, and because it meant Mint wouldn’t be short on playmates.

           As the diamonds and Spinel exited the ship and entered the palace through White’s bubble, Mint let out an audible yawn. Looking down at her, her mothers took note of her droopy eyes and sluggish movements.

           “It looks like someone’s ready for bed,” Blue said, gently patting Mint’s head.

           The little diamond’s eyes snapped fully open as she looked to her mothers with the most hurt and betrayed look on her face.

           “Nooo!” Mint whined, “I’m not tired!”

           “It’s already past your bedtime, Mint,” Yellow pointed out, “And you look very tired to me.”

           “Noooo! I’m not tired!”

           “How about this, Minty,” White offered, crouching down to her level, “If you just get dressed for bed, you can stay up a little longer while I tell you a story.”

           Mint nodded, excitedly agreeing to the deal. Blue and Yellow glanced at each other as White scooped her up in her arms.

           “We’ll meet you in the common room after she falls asleep,” Yellow told her. White nodded before carrying Mint up to her room.

           Mint’s bedroom looked like it was plucked out of a fairytale forest. Artificial leaves and flowers clung to the walls, and a shallow pond reflected the light given off from the starry ceiling. Wooden shelves in the shape of freshly chopped logs lined the walls with dolls, books, and toys, many of which were also scattered across the shiny, wood floor. Against one of the flowery walls sat a set of drawers in the shape of a large tree, which, once opened, revealed all the clothes that Mint was not yet able to project onto her form. Once White helped Mint pick out nightgown, she carried her over to the little nook of trees that cozily surrounded her leafy-green bed. Sitting down on top of the luxuriously soft bedding, White stroked the little diamond’s hair as she began her story.

           “Once upon a time, the Gem Homeworld was ruled by diamonds,” White began, “White, Yellow, Blue, and the littlest diamond–”

           “Pink!” Mint tiredly but proudly finished.

           White smiled and ruffled her hair a bit. For the next hour, she wove a wonderous story about the time Pink had managed to sneak an organic creature off one of Yellow’s newest colonies, and tried to keep it hidden in her room. She told of how Pink didn’t even make it a week before entering her room, only to find White Diamond waiting for her, asking what the alien creature was doing there. Of course, Pink looked down at her feet and claimed she didn’t know. In telling the tale, she left out all the begging and pleading, and a few tears Pink shed before White reluctantly agreed to let her keep the creature, reasoning that Mint didn’t need to know that part of the story right now.

           Finally, Mint had fallen asleep. As carefully as she could, White placed her under the covers and gave her a gentle kiss goodnight. Quietly making her way across the room, she spared one last glance at her little girl before dimming the lights and leaving the room.

           As promised, she met Blue and Yellow in the common room. The two of them sat across from each other in their cushioned chairs, in the midst of idle conversation, which stopped once the third diamond entered the room.

           “I take it she’s finally asleep?” Yellow asked her.

           “Yes, it turns out she was tired after all,” White said, taking her usual seat across from them.

           “We’ve talked about this, White. You need to stop coddling her.”

           “She’s old enough to put herself to sleep,” Blue agreed, “If we want to nip this attitude she’s developed–”

           “I know, I know,” White admitted, not meeting either of them in the eye, “I just… I like making her happy.”

           “We know you’re trying, White,” Blue assured her.

           “But if we’re going to have another baby, we need to get Mint used to having limits,” Yellow added.

           White nodded. She could almost laugh at the irony of Blue and Yellow telling her to stop spoiling their child. Finding a balance between not repeating the past and not having Mint end up a spoiled brat wasn’t an easy task for any of them, but the added difficulty of the lingering guilt White felt for the rocky start she had with Mint made finding that balance all the more harder.

           Not wanting to linger on that thought too much, she decided it was time for a subject change.

           “Only a few more cycles until we can start trying,” White perked up, meeting their eyes once again.

           “And you’re still certain you want to be the one to carry the baby?” Yellow asked.

           “We understand if you’ve changed your mind. You had such a… less than ideal experience last time.”

           “I can assure you both that I have not changed my mind. If it means getting a baby sooner, then I want to carry it.”

           “Two years isn’t that long of a wait until I have my cycle,” Yellow pointed out.

           “I appreciate your concern, both of you, but I assure you this is what I want. I want another baby. I’m in a better place than I was when I was pregnant with Mint. I’m confident in my abilities as a mother now. It’ll be a better experience this time.”

           Blue and Yellow looked at each other, before turning back to her and grinning.

           “Alright, but if you change your mind before your cycle starts–” Blue began.

           “I won’t, I promise you.”

[tamalam11]

S6 Episode Titles

So the rest of The 100 S6 episode titles were revealed today. (In the past these haven’t always been accurate titles.) Lets pretend we know anything about anything and see what we can deduce from them, shall we?? Wild Unfounded Speculation Time Commencing!!! 

 6x06 Memento Mori (confirmed title) : “Diyoza learns more about the mysterious Children of Gabriel while Abby continues to search for a way to save Kane.” 

a quick google search tells me 2 things- this phrase is Latin for “remember (that) you will die” and that the dictionary defines it as “ an object serving as a warning or reminder of death, such as a skull.” I don’t think its much of a stretch to guess that this episode its going to be dealing with death/mortality. Either Gabriel's himself, or Murphy struggling with whether or not to actually take Josephine up on her offer, or maybe even Murphy & Bellamy dealing with the fact that Clarke is “dead.” And obviously, as the episode description says, Abby dealing with Kane’s dwindling mortality. 

6x07 Nevermind (confirmed title): “Clarke's past catches up to her.”

I don’t need to google this one. It’s written by returning Writers Room Alum, Kim Shumway, who divides the fandom in Love/Hate for her. Personally, I have no problem with her. She wrote one of my all time favorite episodes, S3′s Nevermore. Which this episode’s title is clearly a play off of. Nevermore is a character driven bottle episode that deep dives into character relationships and histories (and had quality Bellarke content). If Nevermind isn’t the episode where we see Clarke in Mount Weather (ie: when she Faces Her Demons), I’ll eat my hat, as they say. The fact that IMBD credits Jake Griffin as among the characters in this episode helps me feel even more certain. 

6x08 The Old Man and The Anomaly 

Gabriel. Obviously. We’re either going to learn about him in the anomaly, or go into it with him. OR we’re already in it with Clarke and she comes into contact with him. Thought I do admit, there doesn't seem like enough time to get Clarke to the Anomaly and my previous theory is looking less and less likely. 

6x09 What You Take With You

Is someone literally going somewhere? What you take with you when you leave a place? Probs not. More like...what you take with you when you leave a relationship, a person, a non-physical space of being. What you take with you is what you learn, or what you’re given by another person- forgiveness, love, growth. Someone is dying, breaking up, or coming back. (It’s interesting to note that IMDB lists Kane as in this episode. I know its not a credibly source, but still.) 

6x10  Matryoshka

this was another google search. and hole-lee fuuuuuuuuuck.  Matryoshka is the name for Russian Nesting Dolls. If you aren’t familiar with those, they are hollow wooden dolls that open up to contain another smaller hollow wooden doll until you get down to the smallest, solid, wooden doll. The original. The Origin. The First. Gee, I wonder what this could be a metaphor for? Honestly though, I wonder-- which Russian Nesting Doll are we revealing? Josephine The First? Or Becca Pram Heda??????  

6x11 Ashes to Ashes

A Bellamy heavy episode, rumored to be just characters sitting around talking and having sex, directed by Bob Morely...... and named after something related to death???? The phrase Ashes to Ashes references “ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” which is often said at funerals over grave sites. Though it could be literal, as this show does like to burn things down AND we see Murphy holding a torch in the trailer. But none of that jives with what we know about the episode. Or think we do, anyway. Unless we lose someone in the previous episode, and this is a quiet episode that actually takes a beat and allows everyone to reflect and mourn. Wouldn’t that be a nice change of pace? This is also the episode that IMDB lists Azgeda Warrior and Young E/cho. So its also the E/cho backstory ep. I would be down if Ashes to Ashes references her death. But more likely it’s Be/cho talking and having sex because I never get nice things. 

6x12 Adjustment Protocol

This sounds like a military phrase. Maybe it’s a Diyoza heavy episode?? IDK why, but this one seems the most likely candidate to be a fake title. It just sounds off. Like, it doesn't fit with the flow of the other titles. But then, maybe that’s the point. Maybe the whole episode will be that way. According to IMDB, this is directed by Olicity Fandom fave Antonio Negret. And the only main players are Bellamy and Clarke. Consider me baited. 

6x13 The Blood Of Sanctum 

Season Finale. Literally, we’re going to spill the blood of Sanctum?? That’d be pretty On Brand. Or, like, metaphorically, we’re going to like be the blood of Sanctum? Like, it’s gonna be ours?? Who the hell knows. 

[justanoutlawfic]

Little Lady’s Best Friend: A KnightRook Ficlet

Summary: For Day 10 of Ficmas. Killian is stumped at how to fulfill the last wish on Alice's Christmas list.

Also on AO3

Alice couldn’t have the childhood that most children did, but Killian would be damned if he didn’t at least try. Every winter, he did what he could to make sure that she had a good holiday season. When she was a baby, he had crafted a tree out of spare wood he found. By the time she was three, they began to make homemade ornaments and he would lift her in the air so she could place the star at the top. He bought stockings from the local village and hung them on the wall using a nail.

 On the eve of the holiday, they’d bake cookies and leave a note to Father Christmas, thanking him for his travels. Alice would go to sleep and Killian would sneak down the tower, fetching her loot and coming back up. He made sure to be quiet, not wanting to ruin her innocence of such things.

 Alice never asked for much, so whatever she did, Killian did his best to get. If she requested grass or sand from the beach, he’d fetch it for her. Her favorite marmalade and biscuits were always in stock. He especially went all out for Christmas, the year before he had gotten her a new doll. It quickly became her favorite and the then 5-year-old had brought it everywhere. The older she got, Alice also made him presents. They weren’t much, but he cherished the pictures and the necklaces made of leftover candy and loose string.

 As the days got colder and he put more logs on the fire to keep the tower warm, he found himself asking her to make her list. She was done within minutes and he scanned the top few items. Puzzles, art supplies and books were nothing new, he already had some in mind. It was the last item on the list that caused him to raise an eyebrow.

 “What does this say here, Starfish?” He asked her. She put down her doll and turned to him. “The last item.”

“A friend,” Alice replied, simply, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

Killian knelt to her level. “I’m a bit confused by this, love. I’m not sure how Father Christmas is supposed to deliver you a friend.”

Alice shrugged. “In my books, friends are people you can talk to. You tell them your secrets and they listen.”

“You can do that with me.”

“You’re my papa. Sometimes I want someone else to talk to.”

 The honest words cut him like a knife. Alice was getting older and realizing that she was different. As much as he tried to give her everything she wanted, he wasn’t enough. She needed more. Maybe if he hadn’t had her all to himself for the past 6 years, he wouldn’t be so hurt. Alice meant no ill will, she could be sassy and throw tantrums like the best of them, but in that moment he knew she wasn’t trying to be hurtful or rude. She was just being honest, she wanted a friend.

 Killian tried to think of how he could deliver in that last wish on his next trip to the market. He tried to take them whenever she napped, though those days were slipping quickly behind him. Luckily for him, she had tired herself out, pushing her doll and rabbit in the toy pram he had gifted her for her birthday. After he got the necessities, he looked through the other shops to gather her gifts. The puzzles and art supplies were an easy find. Books for her reading level that she didn’t already own were a bit trickier, but he found some along with others that he could read to her.

 It was that last item that had him stumped.

 As he circled the booths a final time, he felt something licking his boot. Killian looked down and found a golden retriever there, sniffing and slobbering all over him. A man ran up, grabbing hold of the dog’s collar.

 “Sorry about that,” he said. “Took my eye off him for one minute and he was gone.”

“Aye, it’s alright.”

“Man’s best friend, they say,” the man rambled on. “Don’t know what I’d do without him.”

A smile grew on Killian’s face. “Of course.”

 The holiday snuck up quicker than he liked, but Killian managed to line up the gift he had in mind. He arranged with their closest neighbors to hold the gifts until it was time, going through his traditions with Alice. Not long after the moon appeared in the sky, Killian tucked her into bed and read her a story of a man that saw Father Christmas, promising Alice that he would arrive while she slept.

 As usual, Killian was awoken the next morning by Alice jumping up and down on his hammock. He chuckled, holding her close to make sure she didn’t fall. They traded Merry Christmases before racing to the stockings to see the oranges and other sweets that had been left in there. Then, Alice sat by the tree. She unwrapped all her gifts, gushing over each one and even pausing to do one of the puzzles. She gave him the gifts that she had made for him, this year included a portrait of the two of them (she got better with every passing day) and necklace made of string and a few wooden beads from her doll. He showered her with kisses, thanking her for both items that he would treasure for years to come. Once everything was unwrapped, she went to bring her new supplies to the easel, but Killian stopped her.

 “I think there’s one present you missed.”

“There’s nothing left under the tree, Papa.”

“Why don’t you check in the kitchen?”

 Alice tilted her head, but followed her father to where a small wooden box sat. She peered inside and then squealed, jumping up and down. Once she composed herself, she reached inside and gently removed the red and black calico kitten, who was just waking up from its nap.

 “Papa! It’s a kitten!”

“It is, Starfish. I think Santa tried to hide her so you’d be surprised.”

“This is so cool!”

“Well, you know what they say. Dogs are man’s best friend, kittens are the friends of little ladies.”

 Alice beamed from ear to ear and she raced with the kitten, grabbing some loose string for her to play with. Killian leaned against the wall, listening to her name the cat “Dinah”. He might not have been able to get her another human to communicate with, but at the very least he could give her a feline friend.

[mywonderfulbaby]

LINE Baby Doll Wooden Pram In White, Toddler Walking Toy

LINE Baby Doll Wooden Pram In White, Toddler Walking Toy

Price: (as of – Details) Step out with your dolls in this contemporary yet classic wood doll pram in white. Moover is a luxury brand of Mobile wooden toys designed in Denmark. Delivered fully assembled and ready to usePerfect for aiding children ages 0-3 years take their first steps.

[killianmesmalls]

Because I couldn’t help myself, I had to scan basically every inch of that tower and see all the ways in which it had changed since Killian started raising Alice there. And, I have to say, that man gave her SO many toys and I can’t stop having feelings about it. 

She has a trunk full of dolls, more dolls on shelves, a dollhouse, wooden horses, several tops, wooden blocks, a parasol, a pram, a toy drum, paints for days...

A table specifically made for their chess set so, if they don’t want to play out in front of the fire, they can play it before she goes to bed. Even more dolls, a teddy bear...

Seriously, look at this place. He has a hammock and maybe one other change of clothes, but he’s given her who the heck knows how much stuff. 

AND LOOK AT HER SCHOOL DESK. Fight me, that’s her school desk, with a pencil box, books, an ink jar. Sometimes she has a doll sitting there on the window like she’s got a little friend to help talk her through problems on her test. Other times she’s got this random duck thing and who the heck knows what’s beside it and the tiny toy drum. 

I was going to analyze all this, but instead I’m just enamored with Killian “Spoils His Perfect Daughter Rotten and is Super Supportive Of Her in Every Way” Jones.