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ares857 · 4 months
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internet finds
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primeretro · 2 years
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Brothers at Flower Shop [December 1968]
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Brothers at Flower Shop [December 1968] by Prime Retrospective Via Flickr: [Photo scanned and restored]
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nolita-fairytale · 9 months
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give you my wild, give you a child | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x pregnant fem!reader oneshot
summary: your second trimester while pregnant with baby bear is way sexier than you expected.
warnings: smut, breeding kink, language, 18+ only, barely proofread.
word count: 3.7k
a/n: hi it's me with the second trimester sexapalooza smut i promised @starbritestarlite and @carmensberzattos. and with this new season, let me know if you want to be added to my carmy taglist!! i wrote this as a companion piece to the 'make my heart heart surrender' universe, specifically for the 'carmy as your baby daddy' headcanon/social media au series. anyways, i've been thoroughly enjoying season 2 and am sitting into the fact that i've created my own universe inside of their universe. god we love fanfic. anyways... this is nsfw so 18+ only.
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Today 2:21 pm
Carmy “my baby daddy” Berzatto: On the way home for lunch. 
You: Hurry, baby. 
Carmy “my baby daddy” Berzatto: You good, sweet girl?
Your reply is almost instant, and Carmy wonders what could possibly come next as he sees the three dots appear below your message, indicating that you’re still typing. 
It’s a link, his eyes widening as soon as it appears in his iMessage history with you. 
You: Hottest Sex Positions For Pregnant Women | Cosmopolitan 
Before he can notice that it feels ten degrees hotter in the room, that his face has turned cherry red, that his pants are beginning to feel unbearably tighter, he’s interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice. 
“You good, chef?” Marcus asks, as he passes by, noticing the red tones that have risen to Carmy’s cheeks. 
“Wh-, oh yeah!” Carmy answers, almost too quickly, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. 
Marcus shoots him a strange look, examining his boss’ face. 
“Just uh… gotta go home for lunch.”
*
3:03 pm
“What took you so long?” you practically growl as soon as Carmy gets through the door. 
He hasn’t even had a chance to close it properly before you’re on him like a moth to a flame. Dressed in the cutest pair of white shortalls, you’ve been working from home all day – or rather, mindlessly clicking through your e-mail while waiting for Carmy to come home all day, your mind preoccupied with the fact that Carmy hasn’t been home to give you exactly what you want. 
What you need, may be the better description. 
It’s as if the spirit of Eros himself has taken you over, unable to focus properly as your rapidly changing body needs is practically screaming out for one thing and one thing only: 
To be properly and thoroughly fucked by the man that got you here in the first place. 
“I-,” he begins, attempting to explain that he was running a little behind and got caught up giving feedback to one of his new line cooks before your mouth is on his in an all-consuming kiss. 
Now that he’s here, you regret even asking him, careless for the why when it feels this good to have him pressed up against your body. Your lips are desperate, hungry, intense, as you tangle yourself into him. It’s as if you can finally relax, like you can finally take a breath, now that your husband is finally here. 
He lets out a little groan of surprise against your mouth, as if you’ve charged towards him like the sexual equivalent of a tasmanian devil. 
And in his defense, you have.
“Baby,” he whispers against your lips. “Should we-, can we even-, shouldn’t you be working?”
He’s not wrong. 
You should be working. 
But the unbelievable and insatiable need for sex – for sex with Carmy – is the only thing driving you these days, holding you hostage to its unbelievable and all-encompassing power. You’re like a woman possessed as you reluctantly pull away from him to put his mind at ease. Your lust-filled eyes look him over, his curls already wild from a long day at the restaurant, as you shake your head ‘no.’
“I finished all my work for the day and signed off early. Perks of being a start-up sellout,” your well-kissed lips inform him. 
Carmy’s head spins in response to your answer.
Maybe it’s the prospect of the sex. 
Maybe it’s the way it’s the way your mouth feels against him as you kiss down his jawline and his neck.
“Okay, but I gotta be back at the restaurant at 4:15,” he smiles in agreement, more than happy to oblige.
“That’s plenty of time,” you coo, nibbling on his earlobe.
This time it’s Carmy who initiates, using both of his hands to cradle your face before his mouth is over yours again. The kiss starts slowly this time as he inhales deeply, taking you in. You shift closer, pressing your slightly-rounder-these-days belly against his body once more. He moans, his hands immediately traveling down your body, to your hips as he breathes you in again, wanting nothing more than to stay like this with you forever. His touch ignites something in you and you allow yourself to surrender, lost in the feel of his hands against you. His hands are everywhere – your hips, traveling up your belly, dancing across your fuller-than-normal breasts – and finally the drawn-out unrest of your mind can finally find peace.
He’s starting to get used to this. 
And he’ll admit that he really, really likes it. 
Carmy changes positions with you so that he can press you up against the front door as you continue your passionate makeout. 
Your first trimester had been hell – mornings spent on the bathroom floor together while you hurled the contents of your stomach into the toilet, days where you barely had the energy to get out of bed, nights where you were too hot to sleep that all you could do was lay on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, frustrated tears pouring out of the corners of your eyes – your body undergoing the hardest reset of your life. 
So when the fog and tumultuousness of your first trimester subsided, it was a more than welcomed change – and in so many ways. You’ve traded mornings of flat ginger ale, saltines, and sympathetic back rubs, with mornings spent tugging on Carmy’s perfect curls while you cried out his name.
“You smell like sandwiches,” you giggle in between kisses. 
“Ah shit. I should shower,” he sighs, reluctantly. 
He knows your sense of smell has been heightened lately, and he can’t imagine that smelling like a spicy Italian sandwich would be much of a turn on for you. He begins to pull away, but there’s now way in hell you’re letting him go as you grab his hands in yours. 
"No, Carmy, I can't wait,” you whine, the sound of your voice the most needy, beautiful thing Carmy’s ever heard in his life. 
“You could join me,” he offers with a raise of an eyebrow, presenting a solution you can absolutely get behind. 
“Uh huh. Yes please,” you nod eagerly, a girlishness to the way you answer him. 
Please.
Your usage of the word’s got him harder than a rock and he loves this side of you. Your sex life had been great before the pregnancy, but there’s something different about it now. Something about how needy you’ve been – the only thing that can possibly quell the fire inside of you being him – has him unraveling at the seams. 
How could he possibly say no when he’s more than eager to give you exactly (and then some, if it’s up to him) what you want? 
Your fingers are still tangled in his, licking your lips as you add, “My baby daddy thinks of everything.”
Carmy shakes his head, tugging at your hands as he leads you towards the bathroom, mentioning that he still can’t get over the fact that you’ve chosen to call him that in front of everyone you’ve ever known. You remind him that it’s cute, and though he’s not sure he gets it, he lets you do it anyway because it makes you happy.
As you both reach the bathroom, you patiently wait as Carmy turns on the shower, running a hand through the stream of water to check the temperature. One minute he’s focused on the cool water coming down from the showerhead, and then next he’s caging you in between his body and the bathroom sink. 
“You miss me this much, pretty girl?” he murmurs dreamily, his hand trailing up your inner thigh. 
You nod, taking note of how perfectly his top lip fits in between yours. 
“Yes, baby. Thanks for coming home for lunch,” you manage to get out, in between desperate kisses. 
“No need to thank me,” he smirks, a newly-found confidence in his voice. 
His hands are tugging at the hem of your shorts, as if he could slide the overalls down your body this way, a small pang of frustration welling deep in his stomach as he realizes that’s not going to happen. He kisses you with a fervor that makes you dizzy, as Carmy fumbles with the straps of your overalls. Trying his best to unclasp one side, he tosses the strap over your back, a clang sounding out within the four walls of the small room as the metal of the claps hits the porcelain of the sink. 
Carmy lets out a groan as he tugs at the second strap, causing you to giggle. 
“These stupid things,” he huffs, a look of embarrassment running through his brilliant blues. 
“Here, baby,” you say, slipping one of your arms out of the tangled strap. 
He groans as soon as his eyes meet yours again, more than happy to help you out of these damn things.
He pulls the overalls down with a rigor that stops right as the overalls drop to your waist, revealing your white tank top – one that you’re not wearing a bra underneath. 
“Sweetheart,” he groans, his hands ghosting over where your nipples stand erect against the fullness of your breasts. 
“You been like this all day?” he mutters against your skin, leaning down to drag his mouth over your still-clothed breasts. 
“Mmmmhm. Needed you,” you moan, your eyes closing as you lose yourself in the pleasure he’s giving you. 
He’s so incredibly hard right now it’s not even funny. 
“Yeah?”
By the time you open your eyes again, Carmy’s on his knees, so gentle, so tender with the way he slides the rest of the piece of clothing over the bump that’s been growing inside of your belly.
“Yeah,” you confirm. 
You shimmy out of your overalls as Carmy jumps back to his feet, removing your tank so that the only thing you have left is the pair of panties you’re still wearing. Before he can kiss you again, you’re tugging off his shirt, a sacrifice, an offering to the bathroom floor. 
“Should be warm enough, yeah?” you ask, gesturing towards the shower. 
“Yeah,” he agrees with a nod, removing his shorts. 
You feel all the blood in your body rush south as you see how hard he is already, swallowing hard. Carmy helps you into the shower, like the gentlemen he is, and you hope that’s where the gentleness ends. 
Before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you towards him, wrapping one of your legs around his waist as the warm water begins to wash over the both of you. 
“I’m so sorry, pretty girl,” he hums as his nimble fingers slip between your legs. He groans as soon as he feels how goddamn wet you are. 
“Fuck, honey.”
“See? I told you I needed you, Carm,” you pant, letting out a high keening moan as he draws lazy circles around your clit. You’re already bucking your hips into his hand and he’s barely started touching you. 
"You're so sensitive. So responsive, sweet girl,” he teases you, as he drags his fingers through your folds. You are so unbelievably wet that he’s not sure how he managed to get so damn lucky. 
"I just want you to fuck me, Carm. I’ve needed it all day. I need you to make me feel good," you beg, completely lost in the way his fingers feel as he slides two into you already. 
It’s like his touch sets fireworks off in your brain, setting your nerves on fire as you cry out. 
"Yeah?” he taunts you, an almost amused tone in his voice as he sets the slowest rhythm. “Think that’s how we got here in the first place, pretty girl.”
"I know,” you whimper, moving your hips against his fingers for any kind of friction. For something more. For something faster. For something deeper. But at this rate, with how much he seems to enjoy teasing you, with how horny you are, you’ll take anything. 
“But nothing feels as good as you, Carm.”
Your words go straight to his dick and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to leave you alone ever again – might as well quit his day job in exchange for this all-day never-ending second trimester sexapalooza you both seem to be caught inside of. 
He’s practically choking on his words as he manages to ask you:
"What’s that, baby? Did you touch yourself while I was gone?" 
You nod pathetically, moaning as he buries his thick fingers deep inside of you. He pauses, feeling the way your walls pulse around him as he stays inside of you, wanting to memorize this moment forever. 
In any other circumstance, he’d make you fall apart on his fingers, and then his tongue before you even went there, but with your recent admission, he’s decided that he has to have you now. In one swift motion, Carmy pulls his fingers from you, releasing his grip on your leg, eliciting a whine at the loss of him. 
Before you can even protest, he’s turning you around in the shower, and you can feel his hard-on pressing against your backside as he pulls you close.
“Sweetheart, you can’t just say things like this,” he taunts you, playfully, as he drags his cock through your folds a few times. 
“Carm,” you whimper, bracing your hands against the shower wall. “Don’t tease.”
“What’s that?” he coos, pressing his thick tip against your clit. 
“I don’t think I can take it. Please, baby,” you whine, so desperate for him to be inside of you. You push your ass back against him, offering your body to him for the taking. 
“Fuck!” he grunts out, because he just can’t resist you like this. 
You let out a sharp cry, as Carmy pushes himself inside of you, finally giving the thing you’ve wanted all day long. 
Carmy sets a slow pace at first, burying himself all the way to the hilt, so that you can feel all of him – every single ridge, every single vein of his cock with each thrust – and with how sensitive, how turned on you are, you’re already seeing stars. His hands hold onto your waist, controlling the speed of your lovemaking, as you press your hands against the shower wall, bracing yourself. You want him everywhere, all around you, consuming you with every fiber of his being, as if all you can do is hold yourself up and let him know how good he’s making you feel. 
Carmy’s lips are on your neck, leaving love bites across your shoulders, murmuring sweet nothings about how well you take him and how good you feel. And then he’s speeding up the pace of each thrust, pulling you back towards him. His hands are all over you: pressing you back against his chest, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples as he takes care of you. 
His wife. 
The mother of his child. 
The love of his life. 
You turn your head just enough so that you can kiss him as Carmy’s hand reaches up to cup your face, making sure that he can kiss you properly too. This time you’re standing up taller, grinding against him, wanting to touch your husband more than you need to hold yourself up against the wall. Your hand slips behind you, grabbing at whatever parts of him that you can, bracing yourself against him, as if you could get Carmy even closer to you, while the other is guiding his across your body, your fingers tangled together. 
He’s perfect. 
This is perfect. 
It’s what you’ve been aching for all damn day. 
“I need you, Carm,” you moan into his mouth, as the consistent feel of him thrusting in and out of you has you delirious. 
"You have all of me, baby,” he reassures you in the tenderest tone of voice he can muster, his other hand resting just underneath your breasts as he fucks you. 
"More." 
"More?" 
He’s not sure what ‘more’ could mean at this moment, but the dirty talk is so hot that he’s more than willing to find out. He slows down his pace, dragging his cock in and out of you and the most delicious pace. 
"Yes,” you pant, pulling away from the searing kiss, your head hanging low. Your hands return to the shower wall as you arch your back, bending at the hips so that you can take him deeper as you add:
“I want to make you a daddy." 
His hips stutter for a second, caught off guard by what you’ve just said. 
"You-you are, sweetheart,” he chuckles, slowing his pace down for a moment as he watches himself disappear inside of you over and over again. 
“Carmy,” you groan, in response to his change pace. 
You’re grinding your ass against him, begging him to speed up, but his hands return to your hips, stopping you. 
The sight alone, and what you’ve just said, he thinks to himself, might kill him. 
You whine as Carmy brings his movements to a halt, trying to get him to fuck you again. But he can’t let what you’ve just said go unrecognized as he stills your hips. 
"What was that? You like walking around like this, hmm? Everyone knowing what I've done to you?" he asks you, holding your hips so that you can’t move.
You’ll give him anything to get what you want. 
Even if it means saying it again. 
“Yes, baby,” you sigh, and Carmy lets out another moan as you squeeze around him. 
“I want to make you a daddy. Just fuck me. Please.”
“Oh fuck,” Carmy mutters, knowing he’s not going to last much longer if you keep that up. 
He pulls out of you, and before you can protest, he’s slamming back into you in a way that makes you sob. He sets a brilliant pace this time, and you're arching your back, pressing your hands against the wall even harder – and all you can do, all you want to do, is take it. Hearing you chant his name over and over takes over him. He’s a man determined, with a single-minded focus on giving you exactly what you want. 
He’s reduced you to a moaning, mumbling mess, as you chase both of your orgasms. 
“Touch me, Carmy,” escapes your lips, and he’s more than happy to oblige, his fingers immediately coming to your clit. 
He’s so goddamn talented, using his cock and his hands to make you fall apart. 
You feel a familiar coil in your belly, and with the way you’re squeezing around him, Carmy can tell your close. 
“Come on, sweet girl. Go ahead and let go for me,” his voice sturdy, confident, strong. 
And seconds later, your eyes slam shut as you’re crying out his name, falling over the edge as your husband pulls the most delicious orgasm from your body. 
“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it.”
He’s right behind you – literally and figuratively – as Carmy’s thrusts become more erratic, finally letting go after exercising an impossible level of self control. He spills inside of you with a grunt, holding you against him as he pauses. 
Breathless, you throw your head back, grateful that his shoulder is there to catch you. With the slightest turn of your head, you’re able to kiss him, placing the gentlest kiss against the corner of his mouth before Carmy’s hand comes up to lift your chin towards him again, so that he can kiss you properly. 
“Holy shit, Bear,” you sigh, a sense of relief washing over you. 
“Yeah,” he pants, trying to catch his breath with you. 
You both take a beat, a moment to let your brains catch up with your bodies, just holding onto each other – savoring the way it feels to be in each others’ arms. 
“I should uh… I should probably still shower,” Carmy starts, beginning to come back down to earth. 
You turn back towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck, entertaining him with slow, lazy kisses in between words. 
“But why don’t you dry off and get into bed?” Carmy suggests, using a quiet yet direct tone, almost as if it’s an order. 
It’s as if he knows that, though the last orgasm he’d just given you had been world-rocking, there’s no way in hell you’ll be satiated today with just one. 
“Really?” you ask, hopefully with a giggle. 
“Yeah,” he nods. 
“Heard, chef,” you tease him, eliciting a playful eye roll from him. 
He releases you, giving you the time and space to wring out your hair and step out of the shower. 
And as you do what he says, he rewards you for it, spending the rest of the afternoon with his face buried between your legs until he’s ready to go again. 
*
“And we’ve got a special tonight. Lemon chicken piccata. We’re talkin’ major Berzatto family recipe, ok? So let’s make sure we’re talkin’ up, alright?” Richie announces, following it up with a reminder to all of his servers of the main talking point during tonight’s pre-shift meeting. 
Carmy thinks he’s been stealthy as he attempts to sneak back into the restaurant, considering he’s thirty minutes late. He feels lucky that since everyone is preoccupied with the pre-shift meeting that they couldn’t possibly notice him slipping in this late. He hears the meeting end, making a mental note that tonight’s mise has been done right, praying that tonight’s service goes smoothly. 
He has, afterall, been using up a lot of extra energy lately…. 
“Hey, Jeffrey. We were wondering when you’d be in tonight,” Tina comments, as she returns to the kitchen, ready to lead service tonight. 
“Oh uh, yeah. Sorry, got caught up with some stuff,” he mumbles, avoiding her gaze as he doesn’t have an excuse or a cover story. 
“Mmmhhhmmmm,” she sounds, passing him by, because it’s no secret what Carmen Berzatto’s been up to lately. 
“Yo, cousin!” Carmy calls out, in search of Richie. 
Carmy makes his way into the dining room, and as soon as Richie sees him, knowing what time it is – knowing that Carmy’s running late – he smirks. A blush runs over Carmy’s cheeks as Richie shakes his head with a laugh. 
It’s as if Richie can see right through him, and suddenly, Carmy’s feeling incredibly exposed.
Richie wags a finger at his cousin, his laugh beginning to build. 
“Ahhhh man, cousin,” he sighs, an amused look on his face as he continues. “No one warned ya, huh?”
“I-,” Carmy starts, searching for any and all excuses he could make up on the spot, to no avail. 
“Men can’t resist a pregnant woman. Sheesh. Enjoy it while you can, jagoff.”
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babyhatesreality · 10 months
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Does Whatever A Spider Can
Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader
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Summary: You’ve spent the day with Peter. And picked up some new habits...
A/N: So I have like 9 WIPs and I swear I will get to them but this woke me up at 4 am and I can’t let it go sooooooooo :D
Warnings: DD-LG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, language, reader is a bit of a daredevil, grumpy totally not jealous Daddy, threat of punishment, fluffity fluff fluff fluff.
YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated.
Bucky knew it was a mistake before they even dropped you off. 
Fury had a mission for him, Steve, and Natasha- one that required both diplomacy and stealth, hence all three of them being called up. It was to be a quick one, so Steve asked Pepper if you could hang out with her and Peter for the day. You were so excited- you had been missing hanging out with your bestie one-on-one and this was the perfect opportunity. You begged Daddy to let you wear your favorite shortalls with your favorite pink shirt, as this was a special occasion. He of course obliged you, but something didn’t hit him right at that- you never wanted to dress up for anything that wasn’t Halloween. 
You were so excited when you got to Tony’s apartment that you barely remembered to say goodbye to your daddies after hurtling yourself at Peter, who caught you in a huge hug. Bucky had to holler goodbye loudly to get you to realize that they were leaving, at which point you detached yourself from your bestie. You ran back to the both of them, giving them big, hard hugs and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. You giggled and raced away with Peter, ready to begin your adventure. 
Bucky was a bit nonplussed at your behavior, but Steve was chuckling. “Looks like the two of them are going to be nice and worn out by the end of the day,” he grinned at Pepper. She laughed once, low. 
“Hopefully, there’s enough caffeine in this apartment for me to keep up with them,” she joked back. “You all be careful, see you tonight.”
The mission went perfectly well, exactly as they’d all hoped. But Bucky couldn’t keep his mind off you. He felt a confusing stab of jealousy remembering your eagerness to spend the day with Peter, but he shut that down immediately. That was ridiculous. He wasn’t jealous. You were HIS baby, you...just were excited, that’s all. You’d be just as excited to see him when he came back. Right? 
And you were. Just not the way he expected. 
They picked you up (literally- Bucky couldn’t stand to not possessively have you in his arms after the entire day) from the Starks. Pepper was happy to report that you’d been an angel all day- you and Peter had come to the table the first time she’d called, eaten your lunches, went down for naps without complaints. Outside of that, the two of you had been in Peter’s playroom all day, giggling and playing and having a grand time. Steve and Bucky thanked Pepper profusely, and after you all said goodbye, headed home. 
Steve rubbed your back and kissed your cheek. “I’m so proud of you for being such a good girl today, angel,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. 
You wiggled in pleasure. “Me and Petey had so much fun today, Papa! We did ALL the things!”
“Yeah? What did you do?”
“ALL the things!”
Steve laughed at your joy, and Bucky bounced you a bit, feeling better having you so near. You turned your attention to him. “Daddy, Petey showed me how he sticks to da walls!!” 
“He did, did he?” Bucky said, a red flag suddenly popping up in his brain. You hadn’t earned your nickname ‘Trouble’ for no reason... 
“Yeah, he’s sooooo good at it. Imma learn to stick to walls too!”
“Yeah, not gonna happen, Trouble. I ain’t letting you within ten feet of some souped-up science spider.”
“I don’t wanna do it like THAT! Silly Daddy.”
“Then how exactly are you planning on sticking to the walls?”
“I gonna ask Unca Tony to make me something to stick to walls!”
“No, you’re not,” Bucky said, suddenly grumpy. He gave Steve an annoyed look when Steve failed to hide a small snort of laughter. Steve immediately tried to smooth his face out, but he couldn’t quite get one corner of his mouth to turn down. He looked back at you with his best Daddy Eye. “You could get hurt, and you know that’s against the rules.”
“But Petey doesn’t get hurt! And I watcheded him fall lots today. You hafta fall on the SOFT things so you don’t get hurt,” you explained patiently, thinking that Daddy just simply didn’t understand how it all worked. You were more than happy to educate him. 
Bucky just sighed. Hopefully, once they got you home and got you distracted by your own toys and maybe a bribe or two  that you’d drop it. 
Silly Daddy. 
The second you entered the apartment, they got your shoes off you and your feet hit the floor. You raced into the living room, eager to show them what you learned. Steve didn’t even have time to remind you to not run before you reached your destination. You clambered up onto the big sectional sofa, standing on the cushions. “See?? Watch what I can do!”
“Hey! Get down, right now,” Bucky scolded loudly, but you’d already begun your descent. You flung your body into the soft cushions, giggling madly. You popped your head up, grinning wildly. 
“See? I fall on the SOFT things!” you said triumphantly. You scrambled up and flung yourself down again, laughing like crazy. Suddenly, you felt yourself swooped up into a pair of strong arms. 
“I’m very glad that you learned to fall on soft thing, kitten,” Papa said, nuzzling your nose with his and smiling. “But this is starting to look like when you ran into the sliding glass door. Remember that?”
You blinked up at him innocently. “But Papa, dat was HARD. Dis is SOFT.”
“And you can sometimes get hurt on the soft things, too. You don’t want to get hurt again, do you? We don’t do dangerous things, right?”
“Right, Papa!” you said, eager to please. But you had to add, “But dis doesn’t hurt?” You were confused as to why this was maybe dangerous.
“Tell you what- we can make a pillow pile later and fall into that together. That way, Daddy and Papa can make sure you don’t get hurt and we can all play together. Does that sound good?”
“Yeah! Is good!!”
“Okay then. So no more falling into the couch cushions right now. Got it?”
“Got it, Papa!” 
“Good girl. I’m going to go shower, why don’t you tell Daddy about the rest of your time with Peter today?” Steve said, failing to hide his grin at the increasingly grumpy look on Bucky’s face as he watched the two of you. He knew Bucky would rather keep you from flinging yourself around altogether, but the odds of you not doing that were now slim to none. At least this way, they had a measure of control over it. Steve pecked Bucky on the mouth cheekily as he passed you to him and got a grunt in return. He laughed as he made his way to the shower. 
Bucky sat down on the sofa to cuddle you into his lap. You stayed for exactly three seconds before wiggling away and standing up on the couch again. “Hey! What did Papa just say?” he scolded again, hands darting out to hold you in place. 
“He said no falling,” you replied innocently. “I not gonna fall, Daddy.”
“You might if you stand on the couch cushions. Don’t do it again.”
“But-”
“I said no. No climbing, no falling, no...flinging. Got it?”
“But what about da pillows later?”
“That’s later. Right now, just...don’t. No climbing. None.”
“You no fun,” you pouted, plopping down on your bottom, adorable consternation on your face. Before Bucky could figure out a way to prove that he was fun- he was Sergeant Daddy, after all- his phone rang. Out of pure annoyance, he stood up and answered it. “What?” he snarled into it, turning his back to you so you wouldn’t get upset at his tone. 
You took this opportunity to crawl up onto the top of the sofa, like you’d watched Petey do to the walls today, just because you simply could not sit still. You crawled along the area that was against the wall and turned the corner to the part that was separating the living room from the dining room, moving stealthily like a superhero. You felt so awesome and it was so much fun! Until your left hand slipped. 
You let out a squeak of surprise as you fell, bracing yourself for the impact. But it never came. 
A silver hand shot out over the back of the couch, snatching the back straps of your shortalls when you were a mere two inches above the ground. You felt yourself being lifted up, up, up, until you were nose to nose with a very displeased looking Daddy. You smiled at him and waved happily. 
“I’m going to have to call you back,” he growled into the phone, then tossed it on the couch. He kept you dangling in the air with the stern look on his face. “What did I just tell you not thirty seconds ago?” he said, his tone indicating that he was not to be messed with right now. That sobered you up in an instant. 
“No climbing on the sofa,” you replied meekly from your mid-air position.  
“So you wanna give me a reason why you deliberately disobeyed me the moment my back was turned?”
“I didn’t, Daddy!”
“Excuse me?!”
“I didn’t climb on the sofa!”
“Oh really? Now you’re gonna try to lie about it?”
“No! Not lying! I didn’t climb on it. I crawled on it.” You smiled sweetly at him, tilting your head in that adorable way that he couldn’t resist. 
Bucky’s face morphed from furious to resigned in an instant. You were well and truly nicknamed. “Trouble,” he said wearily, still holding you aloft. “How about you just TELL me what you and Peter did today? If you keep trying to demonstrate it, you’re gonna give me heart failure.”
“Okay, Daddy! Can I sit in your lap and tell you all the things?” 
Bucky took comfort in that, trying to hold onto the fact that you wanted to be close to him and tell him everything instead of the ridiculous jealousy that was trying to worm its way in every time you mentioned that little shit Peter’s name. He plopped you down on his lap and cuddled you as you excitedly shared your adventures with him. 
Meanwhile, Steve had stuffed a washcloth in his mouth while in the shower to keep Bucky from hearing him laugh. His grumpy, grumpy love. 
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adultbabystories · 1 year
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Daddy’s favorite thing was to dress you up childish as he could. It doesn’t matter where you two went, when, or with whom. You are way past arguing about being diapered or having bedtimes. You lost control holding it long ago and now by eight you are so sleepy anyway. You are way past being talked to as a child, by daddy or his friends. You know they know better and have their way every time, you have no voice anymore.
You have no real choice. Especially over the way you are dressed. As an adult, it was such a headache choosing the right outfits for every specific occasion. Now it’s daddy’s problem, he knows what’s right for you.
It can be whatever he thinks and that’s how it’s going to be.
Today daddy and his friends are gathering around to watch a football game He dressed you up in shortalls so you can play around inside and outside, while the men are watching football, drinking, and smoking cigars.
Daddy diapered you in the thickest night diaper, so he would have to take care of it only at the end of the day. Waddle away boy, let daddy worry for you. Every few minutes, daddy is spotting your bright red clothing in the corner of his eye, watching his boy, checking he is okay.
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@babyboyuk21 doesn’t have to worry about clothing anymore. Check out his twitter as well - IckleBoyLee (@Lee21Ab)
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kai-unknwn · 3 months
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Just realized i never posted my insane analysis of toradeen costume design here. Let me fix that :)
Alright so here is Clawdeen's core outfit
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It's kinda boring in my opinion but that's besides the point. Note the structure and colours. The shortalls specifically and the purple being paired with black
Now this is Toralei's core outfit
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Literally one of the best outfits hands down S tier, but again, besides the point. Note the structure and colours again. Crop top showing her midriff with a coat on top and the red being paired with white.
Now let's look at their Monster Ball outfits :)
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A switcheroo!! Tor's fit now feature shorts and black being a more prominent colour. Meanwhile Deen's fit is a crop top showing her midriff with a coat on top and it's a lighter colour too!
Aside from this, Tor's ball fit obviously has a lot more purple than her core outfit does and Deen's suit colour is a much warmer colour than her core fit's colour (closer to magenta; reddish purple)
If you think I'm insane that's because I am but also much clearer visualisation hopefully:
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Also Tor's core having a lot of purple already like come on. Not a lot of red on Deen's core tho that's kinda sad. The closest to red I can see on her is the shitty pattern on her black top but looking closer it's more of a pinkish magenta. But y'know what, with enough delusion, it's red in my heart
Okay bye thanks for sticking around to read all that, you didn't have to.
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arse-crack-thistle · 11 months
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rwrb characters and their eras tour outfits
so i saw this tiktok asking what we think alex and henry are wearing to the eras tour, so here’s what i think the super six would do if they were all going together (in new york, i assume)…
(in my head they all choose an era and base an outfit on that…probably nora and pez’s idea)
alex - he fights for reputation and wins. i’m thinking black, sparkle, and chains. leather jacket with a black rhinestone snake on the back and a black mesh crop top underneath. black distressed jeans cuffed over combat boots. chains around his neck and hanging from his jacket and pants. thin black sunglasses that he later uses to hold back his curls when the house lights go down. oh and he definitely has the sharpest black eyeliner on his lids.
henry - he has a choice: either live in his reputation era with alex or be his complementary opposite. so he chooses lover. i’m thinking ‘80s high school student with lover energy. light-washed jeans with white chuck taylors. tucked in, a loose-fitted pastel button-up with cuffed sleeves. maybe it has splotches of color or faded butterflies on it…idk some kind of print. on top, a hand painted jean jacket with “london boy” in loopy pink typography on the back. a glitter lover heart around his eye (bc nora insists).
nora - speaking of, i’ll keep this simple for her. a fully identical ring leader costume to what taylor had on the red tour. she may be an irl chaos demon but i think she’s anointed herself the unofficial leader of “super six does eras tour 2k23” so this fit is appropriate for her. i mean she almost made them all wear matching t-shirts like they’re a depressed cishet family at disney world but june talked her down.
june - the queen of fashion herself. this is the trickiest for me bc june wants to do folklore and just wear shortalls and the silver star cardigan to be comfy, but she’ll be damned before she doesn’t match the energy of the others. june goes with evermore and all in on “cowboy like me” to piss alex off since he almost went with rodeo wear. cropped cream fringe jacket with an elegant ivy embroidery on the back and trim. underneath, a bustier and shorts of the same fabric with the same embroidery. of course she’s wearing a cowboy hat, cream with the ivy details. and caramel cowboy boots (rounded toe bc she’s a utility girl). everything but the boots are custom made in austin.
pez - “this night is sparkling! don’t you let it go!” yeah so as soon as he saw taylor in all of her enchanted ballgowns, he knew he had to be her nigerian billionaire glitter prince. and that’s exactly what he does. he commissions a nigerian designer to make a suit and headpiece using akwete fabric in the colors of the speak now era’s visuals. all accented in rhinestones of course. he’s also all about the accessories with a watch, bracelets, necklaces, shoes, and glasses from various luxury brands. he does the absolute most, and everyone loves him for it.
bea - angel is in her midnights era, and i am here for it! bc of bullshit princess rules she couldn’t wear a bodysuit like she wanted. but no matter, she’s still going to shimmer. having not seen anyone do it yet, she literally learns to sew and diy’s a mini dress version of taylor’s yellow dress at the end of the bejeweled music video. it was totally, incredibly frustrating but she nails it! complete with lace, bows, and a little more sparkle, the dress hits so hard. she pairs it with sparkly louboutin boots and replicas of the hair clips and choker she bought off etsy. june helps her do taylor’s hairstyle from the video, while she does the makeup, beauty mark included.
so yeah that’s what i got. what do you think?? bc this is such a fun prompt and i could see each character doing like fifty different things lol <3
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magicalgirlartist · 1 month
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[ID: four photos of a paper doll, a young woman with long pink hair in half pigtails with big green eyes, smiling and holding her hand towards her face. Her outfits, in order: ruffled pink dress patterned with strawberries and red Mary Janes, light pink shortalls over a light green t shirt with white sneakers and knee socks, long pink dress with short puffed sleeves and dark green ankle boots, pale pink underwear, bra, and sockettes. End ID.]
Paper dolls part 3! The clothes stay on by themselves now!
After looking up vintage paper dolls online, I found that a lot of them either didn't let you change the shoes at all or had some kind of base behind the feet to attach the shoes to. I decided to try the second option because I really wanted her to have multiple shoe options, and it works so well! The shoes are the easiest things to get on and off now lmao.
I also gave her a couple accessories that she's just always going to have, namely the hair bows and strawberry earrings. I wanted to make those removable, but that's just not feasible. Whatever, they match her nails.
I also cut between her hair and shoulders to see how that went, but while it allows the clothes to be attached at the shoulders, it also means you're constantly pushing at the hair and it gets bent out of shape easily. I think I'm going to have to bite the bullet and change her hairstyle. I really wanted it to match the sticker version one to one, but I'll just give her regular pigtails instead. I might move her hand, too. Its positioning right next to her face is causing some problems.
I think for the next prototype, I'll make her some more outfits, then make at least one more doll and take them all to the library to use the Cricut. They changed how it works recently so I can just book an appointment instead of waiting for an allotted time, which is nice. There are some fiddly little bits that are hard to cut out by hand and I find some of the detail is lost on things like ruffles if I'm not following the exact line, so we’ll see how that goes. At least using the Cricut at the library is free!
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ares857 · 6 months
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internet find
If you want this project to continue, you can use the Paypal donation button on the web page of the blog. Any donation is welcome.
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primeretro · 2 years
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Boy Drinking Fresca [December 1968]
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Boy Drinking Fresca [December 1968] by Prime Retrospective Via Flickr: [Photo scanned and restored]
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k00299539 · 4 months
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LSAD Seminar 01: Colour Theory with Sylvia Shortall
What is Colour Theory?
In it's most basic form, colour theory is the study of how colours relate to one another and how this, in turn, affects our perception of them. The feeling or emotion evoked by a colour or combination thereof is of particular interest this field of study.
Above: An old RTE test card from 1978 recorded by Andrew Walmsley on Youtube.
The Medium Affects the Message
An important consideration when discussing clour and colour theory is through what medium the colour is being perceived. For instance I have two desktop monitors; A pen display for digital art and an old Dell monitor from a million years ago. Due to differences in technical specifications and calibration they display colour slightly differently. The pen display is marketed toward artists for its colour accuracy, whereas the Dell monitor was basically made to for looking at spreadsheets. If I slide a picture across from one monitor to the other, I can observe the colours change in real time. In this sense, the accuracy of colours is something we can take for granted.
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Above: A video which explains digital colour and how images are projected onto monitors.
Enter PANTONE
So if we can't even trust a colour to look the same between two different monitors, how on earth can brands like Coca-Cola or Starbucks slap their logo on every conceivable product under the sun with one recognisable colour?
Well for better or worse the answer is Pantone LLC and their proprietary Pantone Matching System (PMS). Basically Pantone have a specific formula to render any given colour in any given format. For instance an average computer monitor recreates colour through backlighting hundreds of tiny pixels varying shades of red, green and blue. This is known as the RGB colour model, which is considered "additive" as the colours "add" together to create their intended effect. Print media on the other hand, uses the CMYK colour model. The is a "subtractive" colour model, where the cyan, magenta, yellow, and black (K) mask one another out gradually until the desired tone is created. Pantone somehow they were able to copyright this process and have people pay them for it. If it's not obvious, I hate Pantone and here's a video that should explain why:
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Above: A good video about a bad company.
Janine Antoni - Loving Care, 1993
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Sylvia actually recommended I research Janine Antoni for my project, so I was happy too see her work show up in this seminar. Personally I feel colour is one of the less important aspects of this particular piece, but all the same, it's roll can't be diminished either.
The use of commercial hair dye, Antoni's long hair and the act of mopping play into stereotypes of women and their gender defined "roles" in life. The gallery floor becoming covered in dye and the audience being gradually forced back out the door they came in can be seen as an act of reclamation. In this sense Antoni is challenging gender roles by using the traditionally feminine to accomplish the traditionally masculine. For me, it brings to mind the contrast between how men and women sit in public spaces, the phenomenon of "Man-spreading". Something that is seen as a faux pas for women but normalised for men. Antoni makes the viewer confront this kind of everyday sexism.
I think she choose a monochrome colour palette here for the contrast. The deep black on the brilliant white. The Yin and Yang of those shades is often said to represent men and women. I'm gonna move on now cause I'm really just rambling about a piece of art I enjoy.
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Above: Hair dye charts bear a striking resemblance to Pantone swatch booklets.
Colour for Legibility
Many maps, such as the famous London Underground map designed by Harry Beck, use abstracted visuals and colour to distinguish between and make clear what might otherwise appear as confusing and arbitrary.
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Above: You can tell me which one of these two maps is more legible...
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Similarly road signs are specifically engineered in such a way as to be legible under any given time of day or weather condition, regardless of colour.
The Politics of Colour
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Colour can mean a lot more than simple aesthetics. As Sylvia points out in the lecture, there can be strong political associations with specific colours. A powerful example of this is how our public post boxes in Ireland were mandated to be painted green after the country achieved independence from British colonial rule. In fact the shade of green was entirely arbitrary, one could argue the act was more about the removal of the distinctly British-associated shade of red, which itself speaks volumes of the power of colour.
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A similar example of the political power of colour was the #Blackout campaign to protest against racism and police brutality following the killing of George Floyd.
Copyright and Colour
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Left: Yves Klein, Center: Anish Kapoor, Right: Stuart Semple
A bit similar to Pantone and their patented method of matching colour, a number of artist have gained infamy for their roles in legal ownership and exclusive use of colour.
Yves Klein, an influential french artist and pioneer of performance art. Klein, in collaboration with Edouard Adam, created a vibrant blue, reminiscent of the lapis lazuli used in medieval paintings of the Virgin Mary. This shade was dubbed International Klein Blue or IKB. Klein registered this process with the French patent institute in 1960 but never formally patented it.
Renowned British-Indian artist Anish Kapoor, known for sculptures such as "The Bean" and Sky Mirror, was granted exclusive artistic use of the super-black coating Vantablack by it's creator Surrey NanoSystems in 2014. This provoked widespread criticism across the art world.
Kapoor drew particular criticism from Biritsh artist Stuart Semple. Semple, in retaliation to Kapoor's exclusive licensing of Vantablack released a shade of pink paint called "PINK – the world's pinkest pink paint" with the specific legal caveat that it could not be purchased by or for Anish Kapoor. This spurred him on toward a movement of democratising colour, creating affordable alternatives to patented shades such as the aforementioned Vantablack but also to Yves Klein's IKB and even an alternative to Pantone's matching system.
If it's not obvious I think artists have legal exclusivity to materials of any kind is an affront to art itself, and I'm happy to see people like Semple challenging the practice.
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Above: Anish Kapoor's now iconic reply to Stuart Semple after getting his hands on PINK.
Stanley Whitney and Colour
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Stanley Whitney is an American painter known for his use of colour and politically motivated art. I included a video above where he talks both about important political causes like contraceptive rights and also his feelings on colour.
What I admire specifically about Whitney's work is his persistent use of a loose grid as a composition. It highlights just how much emphasis he places on colour. What speaks to the viewer in a Stanley Whitney painting are the colours and their relationships between one another.
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museiipearl · 11 months
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things that i think SCREAM coquette / dollette (categorized for your convenience)
clothes + accessories
🎀 soft floral prints
👛 tiny satin coin purses
🎀 light wash denim shorts + shortalls
👛 vintage satin slip dresses
🎀 red converse
👛 cat-eye sunglasses
🎀 gingham button-down shirts
👛 strings of pearls
🎀 cameo necklaces and rings
👛 buttoned rompers
makeup + beauty products
💄 revlon certainly red 740 lipstick
💋 unicorn glow marshmallow lip tint
💄 any cream or gel blush
💋 maybelline city kits pink edge palette
💄 maybelline define-a-lash mascara
💋 essence extreme shine volume lipgloss in milky way
💄 c.o. bigelow no.012 rose salve
💋 clinique moisture surge intense moisturizer
💄 mario badescu rose water facial spray
💋 l’oreal paris infallible precision felt waterproof eyeliner in brown
foods + drinks
🍓 trader joe’s raspberry hearts
🍰 homemade shortbread with strawberries
🍓 cherry pie
🍰 toast with peach preserves
🍓 milkshakes in pretty glasses
🍰 cherry coke
🍓 root beer floats
🍰 soft serve ice cream
🍓 burgers from the local drive-in
🍰 movie theater popcorn
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k00293606 · 4 months
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Seminar response: Colour Theory 1
Here, I have copied the link to the colour theory seminars presented by Sylvia Shortall.
I found these seminars really interesting and was really fascinated by the Pantone colour chart.
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I love how they choose a colour every year that they feel represents it well. The colour of this year is Viva Magenta. Pantone describes the colour as brave and fearless and also says that the colour promotes joyous and optimistic celebration.
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I would like to continue to explore the theme of disrupt through how colours can represent feelings such as fear and worry. Much like how Pantone choose the colour of the year based on what happened throughout the year.
Here, I have chosen three Pantone colour shades which I feel represent Emetophobia and the fear of vomiting the best.
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Firstly, I chose pale green as I feel as though it reminds me of nausea and the saying that “you’re turning green” when someone is becoming unwell. I also feel that this shade of green also represents physical vomit quite well too.
Secondly, I chose the shade ultimate grey as I feel like grey represents the constant worry at the back of my mind surrounding vomit and becoming sick. Grey is a very dull colour and I think It conveys the feeling of not being fully in the present when constantly worrying and thinking about something.
Finally, I chose the shade molten lava. When I see this shade of red in particular it reminds me of danger. Whenever my body senses danger which for me is often if I see, hear or smell anything involving vomit my body goes into automatic danger and panic mode.
I really enjoyed watching these colour theory seminars and researching different colours through the Pantone colour chart. In the coming weeks I will incorporate these three colours into my work along with other colours I feel represent the feelings in my work the best.
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kitty-cutie-zack · 7 months
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Jayvik agere fic idea
This is ,, More of a Plan for a fic, but m too tired to fully write it so!!! I'll post it still. uhm ya. Au where everyone is happy bc i wanna have fun
Viktor giggled as he chased after Jinx around the backyard, trying his best to go as quick as possible while clutching his stuffed animal. He was in a diaper, an adorable pair of shortalls and a pink shirt, as well as a froggy hat, with velcro shoes.
According to Jayce, playing “pop goes the weasel (with real bombs!)” with Jinx was too dangerous, and Viktor was “much too young”. So they settled with red light, green light, and other similar games. They had also played pretend with the house, and the little swing & slide set they pretended was a castle. It was really fun when Vi and Ekko had joined in too, pretending to be ferocious dragons. 
Eventually, Jayce had come out because it was lunch time! Viktor had excitedly run over to Jayce, hugging him tightly. The man chuckled and picked up the little one, ushering Jinx inside as they went back inside the house.
Jayce gently set Viktor on his high chair, cutting up his sandwich in 3, with bite sized cucumber slices, as well as chips. Viktor happily ate, as everyone else discussed at the table, Jinx settled on Silco’s lap as she ate, messy as ever.
After they had finished eating & cleaned uo, Viktor whined, making grabby hands at Jayce. A few chuckled in endearment at the action, Jayce quickly picking Viktor up.
“Now dear, i know you were having fun with Jinx, but i’m gonna have to change you, then it’s nap time, ok?”
He softly told Viktor, as he made his way to the nursery. Viktor whined in protest, pouting and wiggling.
“Shh shshsh.. I know dear, but it won’t be long, you’ll be able to play with Jinx when you do, yea? And you’ll feel much more energized.”
Jayce gently said, as he laid Viktor on the changing table and began undoing his overalls, and began doing his business.
“B-bu.. ‘M not seepy..”
Viktor declared through yawns, while Jayce powdered his bottom and quickly taped on a fresh diaper. He instinctively patted it with smile.
“Sure, honeypot..”
He replies fondly, as he changed Viktor into his jammies. He picks Viktor back up.
“Well, i think someone needs his milkies before he takes his nappy nap~”
Jayce lovingly says, taking out a baby bottle full of milk. Viktor softly gasps in excitement, making grabby hands again.
“Mwik!”
He says, and began drinking. Jayce smiled and began humming as Viktor drinked up his milk. Eventually Viktor finished his bottle, a little drowsy and hiccupy. Jayce chuckled, and put Viktor over his shoulder to pat his back. 
After he burped, Jayce headed towards his crib, gently tucking him into bed, with lots of stuffed animals. Jayce gave Viktor his pacifier, and kissed his forehead.
“Have a nice nap, little one.”
Jayce softly said, as he closed the lights (leaving the nightlight that projected starts on, that played a soft lullaby), and gently half-closed the door.
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memorysdaughter · 1 year
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So my first round of "Bad Things Bingo" for "troubled fetal position" wasn't quite what the original requester had in mind, so I did a second ficlet for the prompt.
I mean, who doesn't love a Summer Camp AU? Here on AO3.
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Troubled Fetal Position
The cabin’s quiet as Tasha returns for afternoon rest period.  Dark brown braid swinging behind her, shortalls covered in clay from the morning ceramics workshop, she’s sweaty and full of Kool-Aid from lunch and excited to change into her swimsuit and jump into the lake.  The cabin door slams behind her as she jumps up the steps into the cool cabin.
Then Tasha realizes she’s not alone.  There’s some noises coming from the corner of the cabin, from the bunk bed at the farthest end, the one right next to the window.  She immediately starts moving more quietly, not wanting to disturb whoever’s still in the cabin.  After all, it is rest period, even if she’s pretty sure everyone else from the cabin is down at the lake or up at the trading post getting Slurpees.
Tasha slowly tiptoes across the cabin towards her bunk, trying not to pay too much attention to whoever’s in the corner.
But curiosity gets the better of her, and she turns her head just in time to look directly into the big blue eyes of the tiny blond girl in the top bunk, curled up in a tight fetal position.  She looks very worried.  Or maybe it’s just the glint off her thick glasses that gives her that expression.
Tasha immediately feels bad for her.  Camp Arrowhead is so fun - nobody should be looking sad when there’s so many awesome things to do!  But she also is immediately confused - this girl definitely wasn’t in Red-Wing Cabin this morning.  Tasha knows all of the girls in Red-Wing Cabin - Jessica, Laura, Ashley, the two Brittanys, Tiffany, Marisol, and Krystal - and this blond girl isn’t one of them.  In fact, she’s up in the unused bunk where nobody wanted to sleep.
“Hey,” Tasha whispers. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”
The counselors were very strict about this, after all.  Campers weren’t supposed to go inside other cabins.  If they wanted to see friends from other cabins, they could meet outside at the picnic tables, or the trading post, or at the sports fields or the lake.  Tasha didn’t get it, but she at least respected the rules.  Fair was fair.
The girl’s eyes fill with tears.  She seems frozen up on the bunk, curled into herself.  Tasha tries to figure out what to do.  She doesn’t want to rat on this girl to the counselors.  That seems like it would be mean.  This girl hasn’t really done anything super bad, and Tasha doesn’t even know what she’s doing in Red-Wing Cabin.  Maybe she’s trying to get away from mean girls.  There are some mean girls at Camp Arrowhead - snobby ones, rich ones, older ones, girls that find any perceived fault in someone and exploit it, mocking and teasing.  Tasha’s gone a couple rounds with girls like those back in Brooklyn and carries herself like she’ll fight anyone who steps to her, so nobody at Camp Arrowhead tries to mess with her.  But the mean girls just pick somebody else.
“Are you trying to get away from mean girls?” Tasha asks.  She walks a little bit closer.  The girl keeps her eyes on Tasha, even as tears stream down her face. “I totally get that.  Mean girls suck.  Was it Grace from Bluebird Cabin?  She’s the worst.”
Tasha casually climbs up the bunk ladder to sit on the end of the bed with the sad girl.  There’s enough room - she’s small.  And maybe Tasha’s imagining it, but the sad girl seems to relax a little now that Tasha’s no longer looking directly at her.
“I’m Tasha,” she says. “It’s Natasha, but everyone calls me Tasha.  This is my fourth year at Camp Arrowhead.  I love it so much.”
She brings her knees up to her chest and puts her head down on her knees, looking over at the other girl.  No response.
“Can you tell me your name?” Tasha asks gently.
“Patterson.”
Tasha’s never heard that name before, and she thinks it sounds more like a last name than a first name.  But she doesn’t want to be mean. “Hi, Patterson.”
Patterson picks up her head just a little to take a quick look at Tasha. “Hi.”
“What are you doing in Red-Wing Cabin?”
Patterson gives Tasha a little smile, and it melts Tasha’s heart.  What a cutie.
“I’m hiding.”
“Well, I got that,” Tasha says, smiling as she rolls her eyes, hoping Patterson knows she’s kidding. “Did a bear track you in here or something?”
“Bears are very serious,” Patterson says.  She shifts slightly and wipes the tears from her eyes. “There are approximately 7000 bears in New York State right now.”
“Shit,” Tasha says, genuinely caught off-guard, and Patterson giggles. “That’s, like, way too many bears.  Maybe we should all be hiding from bears.”
Patterson uncurls a little further and turns her face towards Tasha.
“Hey, there you are,” Tasha says softly. “Whatever you’re hiding from, as long as it’s not bears, I’m sure I can help you with it.”
Patterson pushes up her thick glasses. “I miss my dad,” she says.
Tasha wonders what that’s like.
“We were supposed to go on a road trip this summer,” Patterson goes on. “We were going to see a whole bunch of national parks.  But then…”
She sighs. “Then my brother got in trouble, so my dad and my mom are very worried about him, so they sent me away so they could focus on him.  I didn’t even want to come here.”
She keeps her voice steady, making it clear to Tasha that it’s not the camp Patterson doesn’t like, it’s being tossed aside that bothers her. 
“And I’m not like anybody here.”
Tasha straightens up, sitting up and crossing her legs criss-cross-applesauce, and she’s pleasantly surprised when Patterson does too.  They face each other on the bunk bed’s uncomfortable mattress. “Me too,” Tasha says confidently. “I’m not like anybody else here.  I’m much cooler, and I bet you are too.”
At this Patterson goes bright red and ducks her head. “I’m not cool.”
“Are you kidding?  You’ve got a NASA shirt on - that’s cool, you’ve got those sparkly glasses - those are cool, and you’ve got a lot of bracelets…” Tasha leans in a bit. “Those are awesome - did you make those?”
Patterson nods solemnly. “I write out the patterns based on mathematical equations.”
Tasha reaches out carefully and touches one of the best ones, a rainbow bracelet that looks almost like a strand of DNA. “Can you teach me how to make that one?”
Patterson nods. “Of course I can.”
“Then you’re even cooler than me,” Tasha says.
Patterson goes redder, but she smiles.  Then she says, “Do you think anyone would notice if I moved in here?”
“Into Red-Wing Cabin?   Probably not,” Tasha says. “We only have nine, after all.  Most cabins have ten.  I could talk to our counselors.  Maggie and Elaine are super nice.”
“I’d like that.”
“For you, anything,” Tasha says, and she means it.
Patterson leans forward and throws her arms around Tasha.  Her smile is like sunlight and her hug feels just as warm.
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