David saying “Hello” and “Night-Night” on CBeebies Bedtime Stories

After a while, Americans had their own set of wood-centered folk tales and one guy collected them in a 1910 anthology called Fearsome Creatures Of The Lumberwoods. Unlike their European predecessors, these stories explained the horrific accidents and strange phenomena the average logger stood a chance of experiencing during his time among the trees. It’s basically the estranged, drunk, flannel-wearing uncle of Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them.

Among the creatures listed in the book was the Hidebehind, an intestine-eating monster that hates alcohol so much that the only defense an honest logger has is being drunk as often and as thoroughly as possible.

Then there’s the Dungavenhooter, which will beat you into gas and f**king huff you like a high schooler with a fistful of markers. They actually prefer drunks – the Dungavenhooter, not the kids – so it’s theoretically impossible to protect yourself from both a Dungavenhooter and a Hidebehind. This presents quite a conundrum for the aspiring lumberjack… or anyone who has to go into the woods for any reason.

What about the Agropelter, which’ll cave in your skull and rip your arms off? They were said to specifically hate loggers, rather than human beings in general. Think of them as hyper-aggressive Loraxes; they don’t just speak for the trees, they break off pieces of those trees and bash unsuspecting lumberjacks in the dome with them.

6 Bedtime Stories From History (That Scarred Kids For Life)

“And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life,” Percival read aloud, the story coming to an end.

Credence’s sleepy head was laid on his lap, the boy barely conscious after the long day. They had to attend another trial.

Patting Credence’s short hair, slowly massaging the nape of his neck, Percival thought with some resentment how hard it was to make everyone believe his boy was innocent. At times it seemed he was the only one who stood on Credence’s side. His people were judging him, Percival was well aware of it. Grindelwald’s victim - the word was still heavy on his tongue every time he had to say it out loud - and the defender of an Obscurial; one of these titles would be hard enough to bare. Two were like a death sentence.

They would be his death sentence too, he thought, if not Credence’s gratitude, the way he filled the empty spaces in his mind, repairing the shattered pieces of his life Grindelwald destroyed so easily. He hoped, deep down, that maybe he was helping too, even if only a bit.

Though he was sure the boy was already asleep, Credence’s voice reached his ears,

“Which one would you choose? The Wand, The Stone or The Cloak?”

The boy struggled to sit up, body numb after staying in the same position for too long, but Percival scooped him in his arms, holding him close and safe, sheltering Credence from the world and its harm. He could feel the faint smell of cinnamon and rain lingering on his hair.

“What about you?” He kissed Credence’s ever-cold nose, letting him rest against his arm, head heavy and already full of dreams. “If you had a choice, which one would you choose?”

“The Wand. So I could protect you.”

There was something painfully naive and childlike in Credence’s sleepy voice as his whisper hovered above Percival’s neck, warm breath making his skin electric.

He pressed a soft kissed onto Credence’s brow, realizing with a small twitch of his lips that his companion decided to doze off instead of going to bed on his own two feet, forgetting about his own question.

“The Cloak,” Percival said nonetheless, balancing Credence in his arms as he tried to stand up and catch his balance. “So I could protect you.”

xxlovendreamsxx replied to your post “Sasus probably the kinda guy who turns down Sakuras advances before…”

one who will also frequently engage in morning sex with her with no regards as to her being late for work yes??????? huehueheu

she becomes exponentially more alert at the feeling of her presumed slumbering husband’s firm grip on her wrist, the sound of her alarm still shrill in the background. He had grabbed her just as she had started to roll out of bed to groggily begin her morning routine. Sakura turns to see him buried in their comforter, messy-haired, one eye open, staring her down with a look, lazy as it may be, that can only mean one thing.

“right now?”

he squeezes her wrist. she sighs.

“but last night you said you didn’t want to-”

he shifts onto his back, sheets sliding conveniently enough to keep him covered, but still suggest that he is.. in need.

“you’re impossible” she protests, pressing the snooze button.

“and you’re annoying” he mumbles into his pillow, pulling her on top of him. “now come here”

Good Night, Baby 💤
Bedtime Stories ;)

Red Hot Chili Peppers

  • <p> <b></b> *in the dark on my bed*<p/><b>Me :</b> *laughs at video of kpop group, scolls*<p/><b>Me :</b> -continues giggles-<p/><b></b> *door opens*<p/><b>Brain :</b> ABORT MISSION, REPEAT ABORT MISSION<p/><b>Me :</b> -locks phone, throws half way across the room-<p/><b></b> *pretends sleep*<p/></p>
Bedtime Stories

A/N: A request from @peytonnation for a Spencer x Reader where the reader can’t sleep so Spencer reads to her to try and get her to sleep. Cuddles! @coveofmemories






“Can’t sleep, can you?” Spencer laughed after about a half hour of losing your mind. He had work in the morning, and you felt awful, but you couldn’t get your brain to turn off, which meant incessant tossing and turning, kicking your legs and the inability to get comfortable - at all. It felt like your skin was crawling. Insomnia was a bitch and a half.

You pushed up out of the bed and pulled one of the blankets around you. “I’m so sorry, babe,” you said, leaning over and giving him a kiss. “I’ll just go sleep on the couch. I don’t wanna keep you up any longer.”

Gently, he pulled you back toward him by the wrist. “Wait for me,” he said sleepily. He lumbered out of bed, took your hand in his and walked over the bookshelf at the far end of the apartment. “I’ll read to you.” As he pulled you into his lap, he smiled. “That always helps.”

“Have I said I love you today?” you asked. “Because I love you. Are you sure though? You have work in the morning.”

Spencer shrugged, placing your head in the crook of his neck. “As a child prodigy, you get used to an overactive brain, never being able to sleep, and functioning on very little, so I’m good.” He flipped through the pages and you inhaled sharply - the scent of musty books was one of your favorite things. It reminded you of when you were a kid reading in your grandparents’ attic. The light would stream through the tiny window, giving the small space just enough light for you to read, but not enough room for anyone else - it was your alone time, even as a kid. Occasionally, you stilled liked to read alone, but having Spencer read to you was one of your favorite things in the entire world. “Which story should we start tonight?” he asked, placing his hand on the top of your head and gently combing his fingers through it. 

“Why don’t we just continue to go in order,” you said. “We’re on Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, right?” 

“Yup.” He landed on the page you needed and you stared in awe at the intricate designs on the first page of the story. Blue arches, gold leaves, even the border painted a picture. In an instant, you were at ease as Spencer started to read.

“In days of yore and in times and tides long gone before there dwelt in a certain town of Persia two brothers, one named Kasim and the other Ali Baba, who at their father’s demise had divided the little wealth he had left to them with equitable division, and had lost no time in wasting and spending it all…” 

Spencer’s voice had the unique ability to change depending on what he was reading. If you ever had kids, he would be great at changing his for the character he was reading. Sometimes he was animated, other times he would speak quietly. If the story required it, his voice would boom, and still others, like now, he sounded proud, as if he knew something others didn’t. For anyone who wasn’t familiar with the story, they’d underestimate the character of Morgiana - a slave woman who played the stark opposite role of most women in The Arabian Nights. You knew her role though. That’s why it was one of your favorite stories; she defied all expectations and proved that the “invisible” were not to be underestimated. 

Your boyfriend could read fast. Really fast. But when he read, he read fairly slowly, enough so that anyone listening could enjoy the story. Without interrupting his flow, you situated yourself more comfortably in his lap and rested your head against his chest once more. 

“Morgiana, having spread wide a white cloth upon the table and served up the meal, went back to the kitchen and thought out her plot against the robber Captain…”

While all of the main characters were utter fools, too consumed by thoughts of gold and the magical cave where it was concealed, Morgiana was clever, calm in the face of danger, and loyal. The story was relatively short, and in about 40 minutes, it was coming to a close.

As the morning morrowed, Scheherazade held her peace until the next day….How’re you doing now?” he asked. putting the book down and wrapping his arms around you. “Feeling a little more relaxed?”

A nod of your head was all he needed.”Good, I’m glad. Wanna cuddle in bed until we fall asleep?”

“Yessssss,” you said sleepily. Your muscles felt heavy as Spencer pushed you gently forward, attempting to move you from your comfortable position. “I could stay here forever.” You really could - he was so soft and cuddly. After he pushed you upward, he wriggled out from under you. Just as you were about to put pressure on your feet and actually move, he scooped you up bridal style and carried you back to your bedroom. “What did I do to deserve such an amazing boyfriend?”

He chuckled against your forehead as he laid you down in bed and pulled the covers back over you. “You’re you,” he said softly. Within seconds, he’d crawled up behind you and placed a kiss on your hairline. “We should read together more often. I like reading to you.”

You definitely needed to. “And I love it when you read to me. We should make a tradition out of reading before we go to bed, because your voice is amazing to fall asleep to.”

Spencer pulled you toward him and your breathing started to sync with his. “For you,” he said, “anything.”