and with fat baby rolls

Marauders Headcannon #2

James Potter was the chubbiest baby ever. His entire body was one roll of fat topped with a mop of messy black hair and sparkling hazel eyes. He was the kind of baby strangers stopped to coo at on the streets and grandmotherly old women pinched and prodded because he was just too cute.

Sirius Black was the happiest baby ever. He was all smiles and laughs, contagious laughs that made almost everyone else laugh. He was content to be held by anyone, and when anyone payed event he slightest bit of attention to him he couldn’t help but giggle and grin.

Remus Lupin was the most curious baby ever. He liked to explore the world around him by tugging on hair, shirts, jewellery, electrical cords. His parents had to keep a close eye on him because the instant they looked away, he would be off putting a mousetrap in his mouth or pulling the cat’s tail or pushing over a lamp.

Peter Pettigrew was the clumsiest baby ever. He was frequently falling over, getting stuck places, dropping his toys, everything. He always had a new bump or bruise from something or other.

⚾ Javier García Relationship Headcanons ⚾

*Note: I know Javi had been deemed bisexual (and I’m hella stoked bc of that, Jesus is bae, Javi is bae, they’re both bae) but I am only comfortable with writing fem!readers so I’m sorry for any who don’t like that in advance. 

Originally posted by olivertommy

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Requested imagine •12 Zach

Can you maybe sometime do an imagine where Zach is dating a plus size girl and whenever they have sex she lays down to look thinner but Zach ask her to ride him one day and she’s scared her fat rolls will repulse him and he’s really sweet about it then they have really hot sex ( if you’re uncomfortable writing this then you don’t have to)

You and Zach were in the middle of a make out session on his bed, you knew in the next 10 minutes it would lead to sex, getting paranoid you worried that he’d want you to ride him, he’d mentioned it before but you always made an excuse and instead he went on top.

“Hmm y/n I really need you” he mumbled kissing your neck, you reached up and removed his shirt as he chuckled a little knowing you needed him just as much, he removed your top too and you instinctively started to pull the covers up “baby it’s hot can we do it without the covers?” He asked gazing at you and you nodded, he caressed your body and began kissing your breasts.

Soon enough you were both naked, you decided that because he’s so tall he probably couldn’t see all of the rolls of fat you possessed. “Ugh baby you’re so gorgeous, can you sit on me?” He asked groaning as you tickled his erection, you knew this was about to happen, you hesitated and he sat up “you okay?” He asked and you nodded “um I’m not so sure about going on top” you mumbled looking down, “but baby you’re so beautiful I just wanna see you all while we do it” he whined and you finally gave in “okay but not for long, I need to get used to it” you replied and he nodded “of course, if you wanna get off just say so” he soothed as you climbed onto him and eased yourself on top of his erection.

You felt amazing seeing the pleasure in his face as you slowly moved back and forth “um zach it’s not a good idea if I bounce, is it okay if I just go slow?” You asked and he smiled at you “baby you do whatever you feel comfortable with, you’re already making me feel so good just by sitting there letting me look at you” he winked making you giggle.

You began moving more and he was getting more and more worked up, as were you, he massaged your breasts. Soon enough he couldn’t control himself “baby you’re amazing, I need to fuck you” he groaned looking at you with lust in his eyes, you got off him and lay down, instantly feeling better as he lined himself up and slammed into you, he went hard and fast being more dominant than he’s ever been, although still managing to make you feel like a princess, he kissed every inch of you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he groaned loudly as you let him in deeper, it was the most intense sex you and Zach had experienced, you were getting close to the end and you knew zach was too, you tensed your pelvic muscles making yourself tighter for him and no more than a second later he was at his high, you hit yours at the same time and you rode them out together.

Zach collapsed beside you panting as you wiped sweat off you “I fucking love you y/n”. I’d riding Zach made him that turned on maybe you’d consider doing it. Ore often.

Hope this was okay! I’m not really into writing detailed smut but I did my best!

okay once again “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone” is not an apology and does not take responsibility for the toxic things you do that have a negative affect on others. and sure, yeah, getting of this site is probably good for you or whatever but you nee to fucking know that the issue here that you need to work on? is not to “stop caring what people on the internet think about” you, but to listen when you are given genuine criticism and told that what you are doing is wrong and toxic and actually look at your actions and change your behavior to become a better person. that’s what growing it, not to stop caring what people on the internet think.

and that “bad taste” that you’ve left in people’s mouths is not some mysterious reaction with an unknown source, it’s you, being a liar and manipulating people and spreading hate and negativity and sure, you can throw this back at me and say all ive done tonight is spread hate about you and you know what? sure. you’re right. tonight i have said a lot of negative things on this blog but look back at the history of my blog and compare it to yours. i don’t thrive on drama i’m not doing this and saying these things because i enjoy the negativity that’s coming from it i’m doing it because i’m sick of your bullshit. ive had enough and i want to give people the chance to be spared of it because you don’t seem to be capable of change.

and going and saying things like people “feel like this is the only way to react to me” is BULLSHIT and you know it. how many times HOW MANY TIMES did i come to you and try to just talk to you about issues we were having how many times did i tell you “hey this isn’t cool and doing this hurts people” because in the six months that we were friends IVE LOST COUNT so don’t go off and say this is coming out of nowhere. it’s not. it’s long over due and i’m just sad that it took me so long to see that so many of my friends were right about you. this is not “the only way to react” to you it’s the only way that you might LISTEN and consider that you have SERIOUSLY hurt people.

and you know what i don’t even know if you’ll see this because a) you have me blocked and b) supposedly you’re staying off for a while but i hope you do see this. because i need you to really REALLY understand that this is not coming out of nowhere. this is not illogical slander or hate this is many MANY people grown tired of your actions and your unwillingness to take responsibility for them like the grown-as 22 year old ADULT that you are.

and for the record? agreeing and saying that a fucking INFANT baby looks overweight and you’re “concerned” for her health? when she’s a perfectly normal chubby baby with healthy fat rolls? fucking disgusting. You should be ashamed of that.

anonymous asked:

little chubster alex likes being naked all the time bc lexa's always shirtless at home and she wants to be like lexa so bad

Alex sees Lexa leaning against the kitchen entry one morning in her calvins and sports bra all muscled and goddess like and she looks so cool as she drinks her protein shake so the next morning Alex isn’t in bed and clexa like BOLT downstairs and the little shit is leaning against the wall w her diaper and her baby fat rolls and she sips on her chocolate milk and that’s when Lexa is like,,,, I need to be a good role model omg

That Last Minute Present Tho

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, or just an all around Hope-You’re-Having-A-Good-Day to you all, religion and beliefs besides! I want you all to know on this cold December night that I love you all and wish I could have mailed myself to all your houses so I could be there under your tree, or just in your living room in general. And eat all your food. I am a beast of perpetual indulgence, what can I say? 

Ling and I felt bad that we’ve both been so swamped this holiday season, so I’m pulling through at roughly 10:31 PM Pacific time to give you all a late as hell gift.


Here are some of my favorite headcanons I have for each of the Overwatch babs. BEWARE. This post is huge. I apologize. 

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The only thing that makes me partially “ok” with my fat rolls as opposed to before is because my baby and I match and I love that about us. 😂😂😂

erika-sanely  asked:

IF you're still taking fic prompts, I don't think there can every be enough hot single dad Derek fics, with him and Stiles meeting because Derek's kid thinks Stiles is awesome.

Stiles is awesome, okay? He’s the most amazingest, most awesomest thing to happen to this town since the birth of Lydia Martin.

Derek blinks dumbly at his daughter, crouched down in front of her so that they’re at eyelevel. “Who?

Rachel goes from condescending to exasperated in three seconds flat. Derek doesn’t have much experience with five-year-old’s outside of his own, but he’s pretty sure his kid is uniquely skilled at emoting with only her eyebrows. It’s ridiculously cute, but not very helpful right now.

Stiles,” Rachel says, like Derek is an absolute idiot. Derek can’t wait for her teenage years. Really.

“Yeah, Baby, I got that part. You may have mentioned him once or twice.” Or, you know, approximately five thousand times since this Stiles person started working at KinderCare a week ago. At this rate, declarations of Stiles’ awesomeness are about to eclipse belting out the chorus of “Let It Go” as Derek’s number one reason to start buying earplugs in bulk. “But I don’t think I know any Lydia’s.”

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Oh, my darling Clementine

A promptfrom the lovely Starswirling: If you’re still taking prompts, can we have a story about how Sherlock sees Molly with Baby Watson and it stirs up some feelings?

John crossed his arms and glared up at the Consulting Babysitter. ‘Those are my conditions. No Molly, no baby.’

Sherlock huffed and pouted. ‘I’m a perfectly capable adult…’

John snorted.

‘…who is perfectly capable of taking care of a six-month-old baby for an afternoon.’

‘Even if that were true, which it isn’t,’ John retorted with raised eyebrows. ‘Molly has the experience and know-how of a nanny. Humour me and let Molly supervise. If she determines you don’t need assistance, then we’ll talk.’

Grumbling, Sherlock conceded just as a timid knock sounded from below.

He didn’t need Molly to supervise. He wasn’t the child. He’d prove to John he was every bit as capable at handling baby Claire as Molly.

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Michael and you would honestly end up having the cutest chubbiest baby who had rolls upon rolls of soft pudgy baby skin and tiny fat hands and feeties and gosh was Michael not just so in love with yours and his little creation…he’d be so proud to see his son finish his entire bottle in the space of ten minutes while resting sleepily in his arms in the mancave, or whenever his round body would learn how to roll over on his play rug and showcase a happy gummy grin towards his daddy. and michael would get totally slated for giving his son the weirdest nicknames and being too infaturated with sparkly eyes to be punk rock anymore, but he would swap nothing in the world for the giggles he’d get once he came home yelling ‘where’s my baby sunshine?’ or ‘how is my little pudding man today?’ while pretendng to eat up his fat lil cheeks

crescendotayuri  asked:

guang hong ji and otabek altin!

thank you :)

Guang Hong Ji:  List a few things you find adorable.

- PUGS, fat babies w/ their lil fat baby leg rolls, guys who play guitar really well but say they suck at guitar, when one of my students draws me something. I once had a Kinder who only drew me rainbows, i saved them all :,)

Otabek Altin: What’s a misconception others tend to have about you.

I’m the “mom friend” of my group so when i show my wilder side it’s always a surprise to people. I’m not too bad, but i know how to have fun and i have a bit of a mouth sometimes so it’s fun to surprise people.

It’s Time Once Again To Talk About...

Killian, Emma, and Leia.

Leia is five months old. She’s just started sleeping mostly through the night, waking only with soft coos once or twice when she needs to be fed by her mother. Emma’s a somewhat…heavy sleeper, so it’s usually Killian who hears their daughter through the monitor in the wee hours of the night. He always kisses his slumbering wife’s forehead, rousing her awake, but usually by the time he returns with Leia, Emma’s sleeping again. He cradles his sweet baby against his bare chest and climbs into bed next to Emma, sitting up against the headboard. Despite the fact that being awoken in the middle of the night isn’t the most pleasant occurrence, Killian cherishes each one of these moments. Leia is always awake and content, hunger temporarily forgotten, pretty green eyes staring up at her daddy happily. He’d marvel at her beauty, at how tiny her toes are, or otherwise he’d whisper to her, telling her a story or perhaps just about how much he loves her. Eventually Leia reminds him why she woke up in the first place, and usually Emma wakes up at this point.

“Mmm, come here, princess Leia,” she’d coo, reaching her arms toward Killian, “did you get bored of daddy’s stories?” Once Emma had Leia, Killian would insist on holding Emma in his arms, never wanting to miss an opportunity to appreciate the beautiful sight that was his wife, feeding their daughter. And then, after Leia finished, Emma would promptly hand her back to Daddy, roll over, and go back to sleep. “Ohh, Leia, you’ve a sleepy Mummy,” he’d joke, and Emma would mutter a “shut up,” as he left their room and headed down the hall. Then he’d indulge in a few more quiet moments, rocking Leia back to sleep before putting her safely in her crib. That was the normal routine nowadays.

But tonight was entirely different.

Instead of being awoken by her daughter’s noises next to her, Emma woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of her husband’s voice. “No, no, no,” he chanted, his tone sounding worried. “She would never leave.” Emma rubbed her eyes, and concluded that Killian must be dreaming, as he appeared to be talking in his sleep. “Hook, wake up,” she whispered, reaching over to shake him lightly. He was still mumbling, and as Emma’s eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room she could see that his eyebrows were all scrunched up. “It isn’t real, darling. It’s just — oh, no! No, Leia!” his volume increased sharply, much to Emma’s alarm, and she forced herself to wake up more fully. She sat up, stroking his face with one hand and shaking his shoulder with the other. “Killian, wake up! It’s just a dream, sweetheart. Hey, hey, hey!” One second, it seemed like her attempts weren’t going to accomplish anything, but suddenly, he sat up, shaking his head fervently and breathing deeply.

“You okay?” Emma asked, rubbing his shoulder. He turned his head to face her, and he had the weirdest look on his face.

Leia’s having a nightmare,” he said worriedly, flinging the covers back and swinging his legs off the bed, ready to stand.

Emma’s face contorted at his words. She was…so confused. It was much too late at night for this. “Ummm Killian, excuse me…what?

But he wasn’t listening to her at all, in fact he was already up, halfway to their door. Emma groaned and stood up herself, following him. Emma caught up to him when they were halfway down the hall, tugging on his arm, whispering in a perplexed tone. “What the hell do you mean, she’s having a nightmare? It’s more like you were having a nightmare, Leia is sound asleep in her—”

But suddenly, Emma was interrupted by a piercing cry, coming from the room at the end of the hallway, ten times louder than any noise Leia ever made when she woke up to nurse. Emma’s mouth popped open in utter shock and Killian charged down the hallway into Leia’s room.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, Daddy’s got you, come here,” Killian cooed, lifting the screaming baby from her crib. Big, fat tears were rolling down her face. “It was just a nightmare, little love. Your mummy would never leave you, no, no. I know it was scary, princess, I know. I’m sorry. Daddy’s here, and Mummy’s here, and neither of us will ever leave you. Here, see? Mummy’s here.

Emma was standing in the doorway watching this strange series of events and listening to Killian’s comforting (albeit confusing) words, so she was surprised when he suddenly turned around and handed her the baby. Emma took her reflexively, immediately swaying back and forth, her mommy-mode kicking in despite the weirdness of the situation. “It’s okay, baby,” she cooed, holding Leia close, “I right here, honey bear. I love you, princess Leia. It’s okay, aw, honey. Mommy doesn’t like those big, sad tears. I sorry, Leia.”

Leia was quickly calming down, snuggled against Emma. Emma was still rocking and swaying instinctively, and she used one hand to wipe at the wetness all over Leia’s face. “Was you very sad? I sorry, littlest love. Mommy sorry. I love you so much, yes I do.” Eventually, Leia was silent, except for a few huffy breaths here and there. Killian had come closer, his hand rubbing Leia’s back in little circles. Once she was asleep, Emma nuzzled her nose in her daughter’s soft brown hair and kissed her head gently before putting her back into the crib. She took a deep breath and turned to her husband, whose sanity she was very much questioning.

“Killian. What the hell was that?” She demanded.

Killian was shaking his head, staring at the sleeping baby in the crib. “Love, honestly…I don’t know. She was having a terrible nightmare and it was about you, it was about you leaving her on a picnic blanket in the park, and….and I could see it.

Emma blinked at him incredulously. “Are you legitimately drunk right now?” she pretty much snapped him, the fact that it was the middle of the night and her husband was making zero sense making her cranky. “What are you talking about, you could see it? Killian, that doesn’t make any sense. That’s absolutely impossible.”

“I know it sounds crazy, but it was so real, love. I could see it perfectly. It’s like I was in her head.”

Emma crinkled her eyebrows, exhaling. “You were talking in your sleep, Killian. It was your nightmare, not hers.”

“Emma, I know it doesn’t make sense, but I swear, it’s true. I was having my own dream, and suddenly it switched and I could see your face…but then you started talking, and I could tell you weren’t talking to me…you were talking to Leia. I was looking through her eyes. And then you just left, and the sky turned all dark, and I could feel how scared and upset she was. It was terrible. I’m just glad you woke me so that we could get to her and make her feel better.”

Emma was still staring at him, but she was convinced he was just worn out from the many nights of waking up with Leia, and that it was just a coincidence that she’d started crying when they were arguing in the hall. She tried to soften her expression, giving him a smile before lacing her fingers with his. She pulled him toward the edge of Leia’s crib so they were both gazing down at their sweet little daughter, sleeping soundly, little bunny-pyjama-covered-belly rising and falling with every breath she took. “Well she’s okay now, Daddy,” Emma whispered, reaching her free hand down to thumb the sole of Leia’s foot. “She’s a very pretty princess.”

“Aye, that she is,” he whispered back to her, squeezing her fingers, “Takes after her Mum.”

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How to Hold a Torch 14

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |
Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Epilogue

The Great Hall was teeming with people. It had taken a week for Astrid to recover from her cold, which had actually taken a turn for the worse from her time standing in the windy cold as Snotlout gave Berk a show. Hiccup had not minded sleeping on the floor. Though he’d outgrown his shark pillow, Toothless was always ready to offer a wing and a warm flank. It had been a rough week, but sleeping in the open until The Edge had been completed had prepared him for much worse.

Hiccup was dressed to the nines, and carrying a torch above his head, trying to look taller when he really just wanted to shrink into the floor boards. Astrid had been whisked away from their comfortable nest of the last few days and now he was waiting for her in the Hall.

For the handsal.

The handsal.

His handsal.

His heart did another leap into his throat and he swallowed with difficulty. It still didn’t feel real. Just last week he was pining and wondering if he should just try to hold her hand and hope she didn’t break his fingers one by one. Now they were announcing in front of the whole tribe that they would get married.

The doors opened, and the Hofferson women trooped in, also dressed in bronze and silver broaches with beads in their woolen tunics.  They walked up the hall, and a large white puff of skins and fur walked between them. It took Hiccup a full minute to realise that the puffy white fur cloud was Astrid, frog marched up to the dais beside him.

He had a moment to panic. Had she changed her mind, gotten cold feet? Was that why she was surrounded on all sides by her relatives and practically smothered in furs? He looked to her mother and aunts for a reply, but all he got were stoic, mildly annoyed expressions.

Then Astrid raised her head from the ground and looked at him. Her face was red, even her nose was rosy and flushed. Her eyes were shiny, and she gave him the dopiest of grins ever.

‘Hello handsome,’ she said, her voice mildly slurry. Her brows gave a half-attempt at a wiggle before they practically got tangled.

His dad began talking, his booming voice easily drowning any noise and engaging the crowd in another speech filled with jokes and cheering. Quickly, Hiccup stepped forward slightly when it looked like Astrid was about to stumble forward.

'What on earth…’ he muttered, looking at Hild in alarm. Sigrid gave a grumble and Hiccup helped hold Astrid up as well as he could while he kept the torch aloft with his other hand.

'She had a coughing fit right after we got her dressed in her tunic,’ Sigrid mumbled from the side of her mouth. 'I may have given her … a little too much of that thing you brought, with the herbs.’

Hiccup gaped at her. 'That was wine!’ he hissed at her.

'Yeah, strong stuff,’ Hild joined in. Gerta behind them snorted. 'I felt dizzy giving it a sniff, and we made her drink a whole mug of it. Half an hour later we were still trying to get her into her leggings.’

'AR-’ he cleared his throat and smiled weakly at his dad, who turned around questioningly. He tried to convey panic and pleas for help in all the languages he knew through his eyes, but his dad merely glared at the interruption and turned to go on. The crowd was lapping it up good and proper. 'Are you telling me,’ he said, turning to look at the three women, hissing with more urgency, 'that Astrid’s come to our handsal half naked and rip-roaring drunk?’

Sigrid and Hild shrugged at him simultaneously. Gerta started bouncing with suppressed laughter.

'Wouldn’t be the first time in our family,’ Gerta muttered between snorts.

'Yeah, great-gramma Berta came in her undies,’ Hild added helpfully. 'Technically Astrid has too, though at least she has the tunic on, and the furs hide ever’thing. I remember gramma used to say her ma just showed up in the hall from deep water fishing, dripping wet and in her delicates. Shook his hand and went right back to it.’

'Oh aye, and did you remember cousin Holfasta? Turned her handsal into an arm wrestling match. That man wasn’t good for her, he wasn’t. His dick was half the size of a diseased carrot. Good thing she called it off after she broke his arm.’

'Aye; though Frimalda got luckier. At least her handsal went well enough after the dragon raid interrupted it, but they had to do it in the infirmary since his ear’d been chewed off.’

Hiccup was beginning to feel sick.

'Just mad 'im 'andsomer, she said.’

'Shows what she knows.’

'Mine’s handsome,’ Astrid joined in, a little giggly, a little hazily; NOT too quietly. Stoick’s voice faltered slightly, and suddenly he seemed to sense that not all was right with the group of people behind him.

Astrid sighed and put her head on his shoulder, and suddenly his heart was trying to leap out of his chest. They were in the Great Hall in front of everyone, and Astrid just smiled at him lazily as if they were still in his room and he was feeding her some broth. The smell of alcohol was faint, long gone from her hasty drink of his coughing brew, but its effects on her were clear enough.

'Verre` handsome,’ she muttered. Despite himself, Hiccup felt his chest swell and his cheeks go hot. He really was terribly easy to bolster when it came to her. 'Red’s your colour alright.’ She winked. He blushed harder, and she grinned at him, trying to wiggle her eyebrows again; only one complied.

His dad was calling up the selected witness up onto the dais. Gobber was one of them, and he was bawling like a baby, big fat tears rolling into his mustache as Mulch pat his back in consolation, and the smith wailed about his lad, all grown up. Hiccup would have been mortified if his arm wasn’t killing him, and Astrid wasn’t wobbling slightly.

The witnesses signed the necessary document (and Gobber cried all over them), and Hiccup’s arm began to tremble, but he held the torch up as high as he could as his dad burned a metal seal against it, then pressed the smoking shape into the vellum, putting their family’s crest under the signatures. All the witnesses did the same, and then finally his dad held out his hand. Hiccup passed on the torch, a very, very, very grumpy Snotlout stepping - stumbling - up to take it when his dad shoved him forward.

Hiccup muttered the oath to care and protect, and then started sweating when he realised that Astrid needed to say her piece, and she was just smiling at him loopily and snickering under her breath.

He realised suddenly that between her fever and her medicines, Astrid had been half-dazed all week. He almost smacked his face; for their first date, he’d kidnapped her on dragon back. For their handsal, he was making vows to a poorly drunk woman. He was turning out to be a proper Viking after all.

Gerta slapped her bottom. Astrid eeped - much to the entertainment of the crowd - and quickly muttered her part of the oath before pouting at her exaggeratedly. Exchanging a glance with his dad, Stoick was quite obviously sweating, having finally realised that all was not OK with his son’s promised - Promised! - and was at last cottoning on to the fact that perhaps he should hurry the shindig up.

To that effect Goethi tottered up, muttered a few words, threw some herbs and some liquid at them (was that blood?!) and then his father beamed.

'Right! The union of our families is confirmed!’ Stoick finally boomed turning around and waving his arms in the air happily. The people in the Hall cheered so loudly they drowned out the noise of their own individual voices, until someone called loudly enough for the kegs to be opened, and then it was a rush to the mead and beer and cider. The Hofferson women took the occasion to grab Astrid and make a run for it. Hiccup followed.

'Let’s get you to bed,’ Sigrid said, and since Snotlout hadn’t even finished the window yet, they made a bee-line for the Haddock hall. The night was cold, a north wind picking up strength the lower the sun got, and Hiccup wished he still had his torch as the light waned. Toothless trotted up, and the dragon obligingly lit up another one before they hastily followed the departing women. He was glad they were going to his house; at least Astrid wouldn’t be out in the wind too long as it was close.

The three woman and a ball of fur burst into his house, and when he stepped in on a scene of fast bustle. A woman was stoking the fire one minute and fetching the kettle the next, while one took Astrid upstairs and the other began loading laundry  - eeep, his too! - into a wicker basket and replacing it with clean clothes she was somehow bringing out form under her tunic. Then Gerta came down the stairs and grabbed HIM but the ruff of his tunic, leaving a confused Toothless behind who was recruited by Hild to go fill up bucket for some tea. Hiccup shrugged at him helplessly, and Toothless’ eyes fell together with his ear flaps in a clear look of 'we’ll talk about this later’.

Great. He was being manhandled and he was going to get whacked by his dragon for it. He had all the luck.

'I have all the luck,’ he muttered a few minutes later in complete awe as Gerta finished bundling him into his bed with Astrid, who was already conked out and half thrown on his chest, still swaddled in furs, her tunic and her underwear.

'Ye keep yer hands to yerself tonight, lad,’ came Gerta’s stern warning, and Hiccup was careful to put said hands on Astrid’s shoulders, where she could see them, and nod solemnly. She gave a satisfied nod.

'Good lad. Now sleep.’ She paused for a moment to look at him, then stooped to caress his hair. 'I will murder you if you repeat this, though it would make Astrid cry. But I’ve always wanted to have a boy child. And I’ve always hoped he’d be like ye. So now yer my family anyway.’ Hiccup smiled up at her, surprised and very pleased. She smiled back, serious and happy. 'Ye need someone skinned, ye come to me.’ Hiccup’s skin broke in a cold sweat at how casually she said it and he nodded frantically. 'Good lad. Sleep tight.’

She turned and went out of the room, Toothless jumping to cling to the wall to get out of her way as he climbed up. The dragon growled at her after she’d passed, slapping the door shut with his tail (and getting a slight glare because Astrid was asleep) and the grumbling and chittering under his breath as he made his way to the bed, giving them a perfunctory sniff before buggering off to flame up his stone slab and curl up into a tight ball of affront. Obviously, the night fury had not taken kindly to having his home invaded by three very bossy viking ladies.

Hiccup, on the other hand, drifted off with a smile. He certainly was very happy to have his bed and room invaded by one very bossy viking lady.


The last chapter! There is a tiny epilogue after this - I am put it up tomorrow! And please come squee with me on the lovely fanart that @oh-no-its-anny made for me (I am still confusing the International Space Station with their high readings on anomalous sound waves because of this. The Squeeing is strong in this one).

Not A Dream

Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews you all gave on my story ‘Connections’ yesterday (especially @imagine-miraculousladybug for giving my fic a boost and everyone else who commented including @my-insanity-is-an-artform) Thank You all so much. I was feeling more up to writing today so this is me ficing one of my favorite headcanons based on this art by @naptillmorning.

Btw I am horrible with coming up with titles so don’t hold it over me.

Leave reviews and constructive criticism. (They are my life).

*Presents fic with a flourish* :

The halls were silent as a young Adrien Agreste slept sweetly in a room too big for a three year old, but being the son of a fashion mogul certainly had its perks. A wail pierced through the night as Mrs. Agreste jumped out of bed hearing the cries through the baby monitor on her bedside table and ran to her son’s spacious room. The baby boy was sobbing with fat round tears rolling down his cheeks. It was obvious he had had a nightmare. A lullaby and a kiss to the forehead later he was sound asleep and watched over by his mother who was sporting a slightly sad smile. She knew her son was meant for great things. But great things came at a great cost.

Ladybug stood at the top of a roof overlooking a silent neighborhood. She didn’t bat an eye when a dark figure silently slipped behind her. It was surprising how silent the cat impersonator could be especially with a baby carrier. The red and black clad superheroine turned around with a smile.

“You brought Adrien tonight ?”

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The Kinds Of Girls I Like (All Girls)

I like girls who walk down the street and the wind blows and they have to hold down their skirts, or girls that hug you when they meet you. I like girls who check themselves in the reflection of windows. I like girls who wear sweatshirts with the hood over their head when they go out to a bar, and I like girls who wear the kinds of maxi skirts and silk blouses that look like they got dressed somewhere between 1950s and fashion blogger and where did you get the money for that? I like girls who have old scuffed boots they won’t give up for anything, and I like girls who can walk in heels naturally and not like me, a little sleepy baby. I like girls who pose for pictures with their friends and make you take the picture over and over, or the girls who hate photos and make a silly face but still take the pic anyway. I like girls who have lipstick on their teeth, who do their hair to defy gravity, who know how to do braids, who have the eyebrows of a goddess, or the girls who just wear no makeup because they say it makes their skin stay nice. I like girls who wear deep, dark lipstick wherever they go except when they don’t care about where they are going.

I like girls who dry their friends tears, or will go to bat for their friends when they are too full of vodka to have any tolerance when it comes to rude guys at bars. I like girls who give you their tampons in the bathroom or their hand sanitizer at the table or hand around their mints to practically anyone. I like girls who smile at you when they are squeezing by you at a bar. I like girls who offer to let you borrow their clothes, or tell you to make yourself at home with the half-finished lemonades and the hummus of their fridges. I like girls who get to know you, and you start becoming friends and you go to brunch and you tell a story you love to tell but all your old friends are tired of it. I like girls who check in with you via text when you are not on gchat, or girls who send you all sorts of articles you want to read via gchat. I like the girls that are my friends and the girls I don’t know on twitter and the girls who could be my friends.

I like girls who take pictures of their coffee and girls that take pictures of themselves almost swallowing an entire pizza. I like girls who heat up cans of soup for dinner or girls who go out to bistros with specific ways to cook the egg or girls who order the pasta and eat it all or the girls who split the nachos. I like girls who have marinara sauce on their pajamas, who eat cheese from the light of their fridge, who eat green juices on sunny mornings with a side of fruit.

I like girls who have been through real things and still wake up. I like girls who aren’t ready to move on yet because it takes a long time to do that. I like girls with little secrets in their faces. I like girls who let you in with their stories, who show you their cracks. I like girls who push forward, who have to push forward, who wake up every day with a resolve that looks like determination. I like shy girls who have the light-up eyes. I like girls who like girls or like boys or both or hell, they don’t even really know.

I like girls who have learned from their mistakes.

I like the sad girls and the happy girls. I like all the bodies of every girl: every peek of collarbone or fat roll in new jeans or chubby cheeks or baby hairs or dark skin or light skin or dry skin or soft hands. I like the girls who cry, the girls who read, the girls who want to go out on a Saturday night, the girls who wake up early Sunday to do errands, and the girls who lay in bed all day with Netflix. I like girls who treat themselves. I like the girls who treat other people right. I like girls who love big and often and never and sometimes. I like girls who quote movies, who go to the movies, who put butter on their popcorn at the movies. I like girls with bigger dreams and bigger voices and bigger aspirations and bigger everything.

I like girls who grow like trees. I like girls who won’t stop. I like girls who keep going.

I like girls who stand up for themselves. I like girls who accept other girls. I like girls who say YES! I like girls who say NO! I like girls in bar bathrooms. I like girls who are honest with themselves and others. I like girls who want to be better than they were yesterday, not just better than the other girls. I like girls who are advocates for girls, “girl’s girls” who don’t think that means “wearing lipstick” but know it means “being behind other women.”

I like all girls, all girls, all the girls in this world.