rattle toys

“You Love Me?”

Title: “You Love Me?”

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader

Type: Platonic | Romantic | Familial | Other

Warnings: angst, profanity, mentions of aids, mentions of neglectful parents.

Prompt: F13: “you love me?” “You have no idea.”

Never in your life did you dream you’d fall in love with Richie Tozier.

You’d known him since your diaper days - toddling about together, plump thighs and sticky mouths, with both of your parents watching - your’s attentively, Richie’s listlessly, bored, looking as though they wanted to be anywhere other than watching their only child take his first steps.

Growing up, shared rattle toys became shared peanut-butter sandwiches or bright-coloured hairclips pilfered from your mother’s china dish. Richie loved to wear those hairclips, more than even you. He’d stick an assortment of them into his unruly web of dark curls, specks of pink and lime and chrome swathed in a brunette tide.

Richie had always been… spacey, almost. From the first time, in third grade, you could cross the road on your own (“be very careful, Y/n. Remember to look both ways, and stop and listen for any cars, and never, ever cross on a bend.”) Richie’s parents gave no such forewarning, and it was with cheery ignorance he sauntered right into the - albeit, quiet - road on Monday morning.

Your hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar in childish alarm. “What are you doing? We have to look both ways first!”

“Oh yeah,” he returned cheerfully. “I forgot.”

Brushing off your scandalised look, he pointedly craned his neck left, then right, and then took your hand in his and pulled you from the curb with no warning. You shrieked at him all the way over the asphalt, sure a car would come from nowhere and career into you. When you scrambled onto the sidewalk on the opposite side, you ripped your hand from a giggling Richie’s grasp.

“That wasn’t funny!” you said shrilly. “I told you, we have to be careful when we cross a road, else we’ll both be hit by cars!”

“What happens when you get hit by a car?” Richie countered thoughtfully, as the two of you began walking. You paused to think, chewing your lip.

“We end up flat as pancakes, and the police have to peel us off the road,” you eventually returned triumphantly, but if your aim was to deter Richie, it backfired.

“Cool! I want to be a pancake!” declared the boy enthusiastically, but you merely shot him a frosty look and dragged him through the school gates.

You were there when Richie got his glasses, and the teasing started. Sneering jibes of “four-eyes” were brushed off, kids asking how many fingers they were holding up deflected with ease. You worried for Richie, the sensitive soul that you were, but he only ever laughed about it.

You were there when his parents stopped calling when they weren’t going to come home that night. Before, it was apologetic phone calls (“Richard, sweetie, we’re so sorry, the most silly thing - your father enjoyed himself a little too much at the gathering, you know how he likes his currant wine, only we thought it best to stay at the hotel tonight.”)

You found him hunched up by the side-table where the phone stood. The house was dark and cold - the heating wasn’t on. Richie looked like he hadn’t moved in years, a statue gathering dust, huddled against the wood of the table. You flurried around, snapping the lights on, straining to reach the boiler on tiptoe and turning the dial all the way up before scooting over to Richie and crossing your legs anxiously.

“What’s wrong, Richie?” you inquired. “Where are your parents?”

A pure stab of shock flashed through you at his sudden sob. Tears dripped down his screwed-up face, and when he spoke, his voice trembled. “I don’t know.”

Eventually, after a few phone calls, it was discovered that they were in New Jersey for an open evening of his father’s business. Richie stared at you, stricken, as you solemnly recited what the lady on the phone had told you. “But why didn’t they tell me?” he whispered. You didn’t know the answer to that, so you hugged him instead. He smelled of apple suckers and loneliness.

You were there in fourth grade when Richie discarded his mismatched sweaters and jeans for bright eyesores of Hawaiin shirts and jean-shorts and colourful sneakers. He traded his thin, wiry black glasses for thick red ones that made his eyes looked three times their normal size (you noticed what a pretty brown those irises were, then). He was there when your love for rainbow ponchos and ballet skirts and bracelets with bells on them faded in favour of garish maroons and olives and navies, overalls and sandals and short-shorts. He still wore the hairclips, sometimes - the dark red one that was always his favourite. The rest he kept in a small pot under his bed, along with a photo of you and him grinning toothily in first grade, tucked safe under the velvet lid.

You were there when Henry Bowers, held back for the third year running, decked him for the first time. He called Bowers a “son of a motherless whore” - something impressive-sounding he’d overheard on TV - when he saw him laying into the tiny asthmatic kid from world history. It hadn’t ended well, and you ended up wiping the blood from his nose and lips and teeth. He smiled sheepishly as you scolded him, but his apology was real as the blood staining the tissues. And another plus - from that day, you had three new friends. Stuttering Bill and Eddie Spaghetti and Stan the Man. You five were united as outcasts, not exactly a force to be reckoned with but certainly one that required brief consideration before attempting said reckoning - or whatever.

And in fifth grade, Richie hit some sort of tipping point.

He grew louder and more foul-mouthed, more enthusiastic in his spastic movements, and far more inclined to disrupt a class or smoke in the toilets or flunk school entirely. Then the remarks filtered in - intrusive and suggestive, comments on your legs or your chest or your mom. It annoyed you to no end, but you could think of no way to make him stop. Every time you snarked him or socked him on the shoulder, it made him slightly wilder, a shit-eating grin cracking his face in two - until you remembered something you’d seen once on telly. A man and a woman, and the man talked a lot. Whenever he talked too much, the woman would press a big red button that made a loud “BEEP BEEP” sound.

So, when the next remark came - “Hey Y/n - you have any other hobbies, ‘cept for being my own personal bicycle?” - you stared him dead in the eye and countered solemnly, “beep beep, Richie.”

He gaped at you like a fish out of water, speechless for the first time in years. “Did - did you just - beep me?”

From then on, it seemed to work to shut him down.

But it wasn’t until four months ago - when Georgie went missing, and you met Bev and Mike and Ben, and IT chased normalcy from your life did things between you and Richie start to shift.

You wanted to be with him every second - he was the longest-standing memory you had, the boy with hairclips in his curls who watered your head like a flower the first day of second grade. He was the one who poked your cheeks and called you “bubs” and yanked your ponytail and drew obscene images on your hand in permanent marker. He was the one who spent 70% of his time sleeping round your house when the silence of his was unbearable, who held you sombrely when you cried and cursed at the toughest of bullies in your honour. Richie was, to say with a flair for the dramatic, your life - mapped out in dark hair and freckles and lime sneakers, your other half.

The first time you wanted to kiss him was after the blood oath.

You hissed in pain as you wiped your hands absently on your black shorts. Richie walked beside you, gazing at the jagged cut on his palm with avid interest.

“I swear you can get AIDS from doing shit like this,” Richie commented as the both of you reached your bikes discarded in the grass.

You huffed a laugh. “Probably - but don’t go telling Eddie that.”

“Please. He’d convulse and die on the spot,” Richie scoffed, swinging a leg over the leather saddle. “So, where’ll it be, sweetcheeks?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “I’m kind of in the mood to not think about anything. You wanna head to the arcade?”

Two hours later, pumped up on blue-raspberry Slushies with fingers cramping from the buttons and levers you’d been busy stabbing and yanking, you and Richie sat in a greasy-spoon café, snacking out of a shared basket of cheesy fries as the sky darkened outside the window.

“What d’you think’ll happen now?” Richie asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?” You swallowed your fries, reaching for your Pepsi to wash it down.

“Now IT’s dead. Kaput, bitch. No more missing kids, no more hallucinations, no more freaky fuckin’ clowns.” Richie heaved a sigh. “Cause I don’t think everything will just magically go back to the way it was.”

“No,” you mused in agreement. “No, you’re probably right.”

“‘Cept for us,” Richie beamed suddenly. “We’re inseparable, right?”

You grinned. “You bet, Tozier. For better or for worse.”

You looked at him - skin illuminated by the softly-glowing neon lights from the sign outside, the contours of his face sharply shadowed, hair a black, untameable mess as ever - and the urge to kiss him took you so fiercely, it almost knocked you off your chair. You swallowed your mouthful of fries too quickly in your shock, and one ended up dislodged in your throat. You choked and wheezed, and Richie unhelpfully thumped you on the back until you’d swallowed the damn thing.

“Jesus Christ,” he commented. “Y/n, if you wanted something to choke on, you could’ve just asked.”

A week ago, the comment would be met with an eye-roll; now it only made a flush climb your face, and you took a long swig of your iced Pepsi to ward off the redness.

The first time you actually kissed Richie Tozier was two months later.

It was midnight, but sleep troubled you not. You sat wide-awake, flat on your back and staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, when a sudden tap like long nails on wood made you start violently. Clambering to your feet, you glanced at your window; sure enough, a second later, a pebble hit the glass pane and bounced off again, and you sighed, picking your way over and opening it wide.

“Throwing pebbles, Romeo?” you called down teasingly. Richie glared up at you.

“Can I come up?”

You jerked your head in affirmation. At this point, your parents were so used to you going to bed alone and coming down in the morning with Richie, you didn’t even have to worry.

You slid the ladder out the window until it touched solid ground, then went back to your bed. A minute later, Richie’s face appeared at your open window, and he hauled himself in with all the grace of a sack of wet concrete.

You frowned as the scents of - was that wine? Wine and perfume - wafted in after him. He was also wearing a suit - a suit - but the illusion of whatever formality he’d been going for ended at his hair; looping black curls in total disarray, a soft tide of dark hair held back by a lone red hairclip.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” you eventually managed to choke out.

“My parents are home,” he answered non-communally. “And they decided to host a fucking mixer at our house tonight. So I was forced to wear this bullshit thing -“ he plucked at the suit in disgust “-and I only just managed to get away.”

“Wow.” Your eyes caught the red hairclip glinting amongst the soft web of dark curls. “I haven’t seen that thing in years.”

His hand skittered up to trace the clip absently. “My final act of defiance,” he chuckled weakly, before sinking down to sit on the carpet with heavy shoulders and clasped hands.

“Why are they such assholes, Y/n?” he asked suddenly. “I don’t know if I mortally offended them as in infant, or some shit like that - but even if I did, I still wouldn’t know, because they don’t talk to me. I don’t get it. Why have a kid if - if you’re not gonna-“ He waved his hands around in frustration, as if he could wring some meaning from the sentence if he hit at it enough.

“I don’t know, Richie,” you sighed, sliding off the bed and scooting closer until you sat toe-to-toe with the despairing boy. “I wish - I wish I could help you.”

Finally, he looked up; the tear tracks on his face glistened faintly as he smiled - not a smirk, or a shit-eating grin - a real smile that tore a hole in his chest and let all the dully-glowing fragments of the real Richie spill out for you to see. “You already have,” he answered softly.

Your breath seemed to catch in your throat. “But there’s gotta be more I can do. Damnit, Richie, I love you, so much and it fucking kills me to see you just - just take this shit.”

Richie stared at you, stricken. “You love me?”

You scoffed lightly, your face softening. “You have no idea.”

“But…” Richie was struggling to finish a coherent sentence. “Do you love me like - like the kid the split your granola bars with in second grade or do you love me like a…” Again with the wild hand gestures. “Y’know?”

A laugh bubbled through your lips. “Who says it can’t be both?”

As he opened his mouth to retort, you covered it with yours.

It was chaste and clumsy, but the chaps on his lips felt just right against the smoothness of yours, and the squeak of surprise he made at the embrace was swallowed. You could feel the heat of his cheeks and the flutter of his eyelashes and the firm beat of his heart all in that one, fleeting moment your lips touched.

And even as you pulled back, you felt him still. He was stammering in a way that’d give Bill a run for his money, but you could only smile.

Never in your life did you dream you’d fall in love with Richie Tozier - but right now was one of the rare, blissful seconds reality was better than dreams.

A clown dies when his bloon or his nose is popped. Both are filled with his source of life, his helium, and upon death when the clown life has popped, helium spills forth. You can tell when a clown has died because everyone starts talking in a high-pitched clown baby voice.

A clown’s rubbery nose is very resilient. He may not bring his bloon with him at all times because it is more sensitive to attacks and makes him vulnerable. He may hide it at his home where no one can find it. Every clown has a clwon safe for when he feels threatened. For his bloon to stay at home in. You can pop a clown’s bloon with just a single pin prick. A clown’s nose is sturdy. Sometimes clowns will try to pop each other’s noses with their fangs. This is called a”clown brawl.”

The Clown Reaper is a symbol in clown culture, he is aharbinger of death. In one hand, he holds a pin, in the other, he holds a bloon string that is attached to no bloon - where the bloon should be, in stead, there is a black hole of helium that flows forth abundantly. With his pin, he pops the bloon of life of a clown and brings death. His black hole bloon, representative of the cycle of life, sucks the helium in of their bloon. When the clown has died he will disintegrate. The Clown Reper talks in a helium voice at all times because he has helium floating on his bloon string.

If a clown is having a baby shower, you should bring him a fake toy bloon rattle. Baby clowns don’t know what it means but it’s reperenstative of a new life and the clown parents will be happy to know you understand what death is. The clown rattle makes ahonk wehn shook

If you ythink you are alone and start talking in a helium voice you should be wary. Because it probably means a clown died nearby. And you might be next

Tessa’s Approval (Tom Holland x Reader)

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 1700+

Warnings: None


~*~


You and Tom had gone out for the night. You guys had been dating for about four months now so whenever paparazzi caught you together somewhere they would just freak and take heaps of photos of the two of you. At times it was okay, when they were out of your way but 9/10 times you couldn’t go anywhere or even walk to your car.

You and Tom met at a press function, something like D23 where both your movies were being highlighted and heaps of interviews were going on. You met behind the scenes where all the actors hung out. A mutual friend introduced the two of you and you swapped numbers, thinking nothing of it. You were both so busy in your private lives, you could barely speak to each other. You had some time in America so you were able to visit him and be in a similar time zone as him whilst he acted.

You were both now attending this event for the mutual friend who set you up. They were having a massive party. Photos booths were involved, heaps of alcohol, loud blaring music and that usual stuff. The party was nearing to an end. Well, you were getting tired and Tom had work tomorrow morning so he barely drank anything. You walk away from the bar and find Tom having a chat with some guys he knew.

“(Y/N)! Come meet…” he trailed off gesturing for you to come over. You didn’t love the party scene a whole lot. Heaps of drunk people, heaps of attention seekers and heaps of annoying people acting like they’re better than everyone else. The second Tom said the guys name he introduced you to, it just slipped your mind.

“B-babe.” You tug on his arm.

“Yeah?” Tom asks.

“Can we go home soon? My feet are getting sore.” You gestured to your high heels on your feet.

“Yeah two minutes. I promise.” He whispered in your ear and kissed your cheek. Tom keep speaking to the guys he was with. You stood their awkwardly. Tom slithered a hand around your back and rubbed your lower back with his hand. “We’ve gotta go guys. But I’ll see you next week yeah?” Tom said cutting into the conversation to say good bye.

“Oh come on Tom. The nights only getting started.”

“Yeah! We were thinking about going to that strip club-”

“Maybe next time guys. I’m a little busy tonight.” Tom said to the two drunk guys and moved his hand from your back to your hand. Tom waved goodbye and helped guide you through the busy crowd. You stayed behind him, hold his hand, as his other hand combed through his hair. Paparazzi were going off at the front of the club.

“Tom! Tom!”

“Give us a scoop Tom!”

“(Y/N)! Can you give us anything on your new movie?”

“How was your night?”

“How’s your relationship going?”

You both didn’t bother answering any questions. Couldn’t they see that tie relationship was going well by the way you were holding hands with each other. Tom found his way to the valet carpark and a private driver drove his car to the front of the club. You both hopped in to get away from the chaos.

You had taken your heels off in the elevator. Tom’s place was a lot closer than your hotel you were currently staying at. You followed Tom down the hall to his apartment. You could hear a rack and a scratching sound from inside the apartment. Had some raccoons gone loose?

“Oh I didn’t tell you. Tessa is here”.

“Tessa? Oh yeah your dog you never stop talking about. How could I forget?” You joked and Tom cracks a smile. Tom unlocks the door with his key and enters. His apartment was nice and cosy for a night like tonight. You guys didn’t plan on having sex, but if you both felt like it, obviously one of you would’ve made a move by now. You walk in a put your heels on the ground.

“Careful, Tessa might chew them up.”

“Let me guess.” You pause. “I’m not the first girl you’ve brought here.” You giggle and he shrugs. “Thomas. Wait till your mother finds out about that.” You slap his shoulder playfully as he shuts the door. Tessa ran straight to your feet and sniffed around.

“Tessa. Stop. That’s inappropriate.” Tom shoed her away.

“She’s okay Tom.” You smile and bend down on the floor and reach out for her. “I’m not going to hurt you Tessa. Come here.” You smile softly and she creeps closer to you. You assume she was like this to everyone. Tom’s face showed a different expression. “Good girl Tess.” you smile as she got close enough for you to pat and scratch her ears.

You stop and get back up. Tessa jumps and follows you.

“Do you want something to drink? Water maybe?” Tom asked and you nodded.

“Please.” It was the first time you had actually seen his apartment. You had seen photos but you had never walked in it before. Tessa followed your every step. You made it to the lounge room where a photo of Tom’s family was placed on the coffee table. You picked it up and smiled. Tessa sat on the ground and rubbed her nose against your leg.

“Hey Tess. You want another run huh?” You smile and place the frame down and bend down again to rub her back. She licked your face once or twice. Is she usually like this? She seemed over excited for a dog. Tom came over with your glass of water.

“That’s my family. You’ve met Pads, Mum and Dad.” Tom referred to the photo frame. You were too busy playing with Tessa.

“Do you have a toy Tess? Wanna play catch?” The second your mouth said catch, her ears pricked up and she ran over to an old blanket and a chew toy. She picked them up in her mouth and waddled back over to you and dropped them on your lap.

“Tess, you’re going to ruin (Y/N)‘s dress.” Tom told Tessa.

“It’s fine babe.” You tell him as Tom sits on  couch. You place a hand on his thigh and rub it to consolidated him. You pick up the chew toy and gently throw it in the direction of the kitchen. Tessa runs and spirits to catch it before it hits the ground. She succeeds. She brings it back and sits on the ground.

“Where’s your bathroom? I’m going to wash my face and get changed? Do your have something I could wear?” You ask Tom awkwardly.

“Yeah. Are you cold?” You shake your head. “Alright. I’ll just get you a top or something then.” Tom says getting up and walking to his room. You sit with Tessa, waiting for Tom.

“So Tessa, aren’t you a gorgeous girl, huh?” You whisper rubbing her ears again. She nods and then licks your face once more. “Hey, you like doing that don’t you.” You laugh and she nudges your side with her nose and then jumps onto your lap and makes herself comfortable and placed her head down on her knee and stays out.

“All good. I’ve put some clothes in the bathroom for you to choose from-” Tom stops when he spots Tessa on your lap. “Tessa. Off (Y/N). She’s our guest, I mean, she’s my girlfriend.  You’ve only known her for thirty minutes you can’t love her yet.” Tom jokes rubbing her ears. “She’s been acting weird. Every other person that comes over, even Harrison she jumps and growls at them. Even with like, you know, other girls…”


“One night stands?” You smirk bring up his past which he hated.


“Shut up.” Tom rolls his eyes. “But it’s odd huh?” Tom says and you nod.

“Odd.”

Five minutes later, you try to push Tessa off your lap. “Tessa darling. Off please.”

“Maybe she’s fallen asleep?” Tom suggests getting off the couch and crouching down to meet your gaze. Tom shakes her a little and grabs a rattle toy and the noise from the rattle wakes her up. “Aha! She was asleep.” Tom throws the toy and Tessa doesn’t budge. “Tess, come on.” Tom groans. “(Y/N) just want to go to the bathroom she can play with you against soon.” Tom spoke and Tessa got off your lap and you place a peck on Tom’s lips as a thank you. You make your way to the bathroom, with Tessa following behind you. You try and shut the door before she gets into the room but it was too late. This was probably the first time you were going to have to strip naked to get changed in front of a dog. She doesn’t even understand English, so it’s no use asking her to shut her eyes. You get changed into a shirt of Tom’s and leave your underwear on. That should keep you warm enough. “Come on Tess. Back outside.” You giggle. As you creep out the bathroom you can hear Tom having a conversation to someone over the phone. Probably either his Mom or Harrison.

“Seriously, Harrison mate. Tessa hasn’t left (Y/N)’s side. Maybe Tessa’s trying to tell me something.” He paused. “I’m not going crazy. It’s like she’s sending me a message.” Tom nodded as he spoke.
“I know she goes ballistic when you come over, but seriously, she hasn’t barked or anything.” Tom shook his head. “I know. Weird right. Alright mate. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Tom hung up and you walked back into the lounge room. You sat down next to Tom, swung your legs onto the couch and Tessa jumped up. Tom rolled his eyes.

“I think she’s obsessed with you.”

“She’s probably not used to new people.” You tell him and he wraps a arm around your shoulders. Tessa nudges your hips once more and lays her end on your lap. You manage to find a way to snuggle into Tom’s side and rub the top of Tessa’s head as she sleeps. Maybe Tessa was trying to tell Tom a message this whole time…

anonymous asked:

AHHH your stories about dad McCree Jack and Gabe made my heart melt. Could you maybe do similar stories for Genji Hanzo and Reinhardt?

Yes I can! I’m assuming this is the one where they came home to find their children dressed up like them for Halloween? I hope you enjoy it! I modified them…a…tiny bit…

Genji:

  • Turns out, Genji is a bit emotional
  • Sometimes you find him at the his son’s crib, a hand on his child’s back gently and tears on his face
  • You know that Genji was worried about whether or not he could ever have a family, what with his cyborg body
  • But he’s grateful for the blessing of his partner and child
  • He’s a very dedicated father
  • That Halloween, you shooed Genji out of the house for the afternoon
  • You refused to tell him why
  • The whole evening was spent getting your son into his costume
  • Which was literally the hardest damned costume in the world to make
  • You looked so smug when at last your son was dressed
  • Meeting with Genji at the door when he arrived home, the look on your face honestly made him nervous
  • What on earth have you been up to?
  • You led him into the house
  • Slowly you led him over to the living room, where your son was playing on his blankey on the floor with his toys
  • When Genji walked in and saw him, he froze
  • You watched him, wondering what he was feeling, before you walked over and took off his mask
  • Genji’s eyes were full of tears, and his mouth came up to cover his mouth
  • “Genji…He’s going to be just like his dad someday,” you said gently, stroking your husbands face gently
  • His eyes couldn’t seem to leave the baby
  • “A coward?” he mumbled, unsure on his feelings
  • At least, until you spoke again
  • “No. He’ll be like his father…a brave man with a kind heart,” you said gently
  • Genji at last tore his gaze from his child and embraced you, holding you gently
  • Genji carried his son on his shoulders door to door, proud of him and of you

Hanzo: (Going out of the request line with this one a bit)

  • Hanzo is a good father to his daughter
  • A lot of the time, you can find him playing with her under the cherry blossom tree planted in your back yard
  • Or reading her stories while she falls asleep in her crib
  • Hanzo was so worried about being like his father, yet from the moment he met his daughter he fell for her little face and her soft cries
  • Never has something brought out such a tender, protective streak in him.
  • Is not accustomed to Halloween traditions
  • One day you insist that this year the three of you are going to go trick or treating
  • Hanzo finds himself rather uninterested, and points out that you won’t even remember this Halloween, as your just a baby
  • Plus you can’t eat candy!
  • With a scowl, you tell him its about starting up a family tradition
  • You don’t have him convinced
  • Halloween rolls around and you stopped asking, a plan in your head
  • There’s only one way to make him cave and you know exactly how to work it
  • After two weeks of preparation, you go again around 4pm on Halloween to ask if he’ll go trick or treating with you both
  • Hanzo points out again that the tradition is silly and unnecessary
  • “Is that so?” you say confidently, looking pretty self-satisfied, like you’d won already the arguement
  • “I just hope you know that Halloween is also a time of cute costumes,” you said seriously, petting his cheek before skipping off to get your daughter from her crib
  • “Costumes are unnecessary and pointless. I don’t see the appeal in dressing up-” Hanzo broke off as you brought your daughter out to him.
  • Looking pretty proud, you carefully put her in his lap.
  • Hanzo could only stare down at her in shock, his system in overload of the unexpected adorableness and perfection that was his daughter
  • His daughter…was wearing a little blue dragon costume, with a long tail and little horns on her hoodie. The hoodie looked like a little home made version of Hanzo’s dragons
  • Instantly he could understand that he was being manipulated…
  • And it was working
  • “So what do you think?” you asked, smirking as you eyed him.
  • Hanzo held his daughter up and she cooed unintelligibly at him, kicking out her little legs
  • His heart was in a million pieces
  • “I….I think we’d best be going,” he says in a low voice
  • “I got one for you too, Hanzo,” you said, and his head snapped toward you. “But, you know, your size.”
  • Ten minutes later, you all went out. , with you dressed in as a ghost and you daughter and husband in matching dragon outfits
  • Never have you seen Hanzo so thoroughly enjoy himself

Reinhardt: (Grandpa)

  • Everyone predicted this
  • But he is utterly enthralled with his twin nephews
  • This Grandpa spends a lot of time at your house, coddling your children and giving you a hand with the raising
  • You can’t help appreciating all the help, especially with the extra work that comes with raising not one but two babies at once
  • This is the grandpa who wears both babies strapped to his chest
  • And literally strolls around like the proudest grandpa in the world
  • He’s always taking them out to play or telling them stories
  • You can’t help but be really proud of how your dad handles his grandchildren
  • Thankful for all the effort he gives, you decide to give him a present
  • With a bit of help from others and Torb, you manage to create little Reinhardt costumes for your sons
  • The armor is not real, but looks incredibly detailed
  • That was all from the help of Torbjorn
  • You were so proud, and you couldn’t help laughing
  • The babies even had little toy rattles that were made to look like small hammers to use
  • On Halloween, you told Reinhardt to dress up in his armor for halloween
  • He was worried that it might be too scary for the kids out walking about but it was hard to say no to as well
  • So dressed, Reinhardt waited outside
  • And when you came out, he turned and you heard the gasp inside of his armor
  • Dropping his hammer with a loud thud, Reinhardt took off his helmet and dropped it to the ground.
  • Both of your sons sat in a little waggon made to look like a medieval cart, rattling their little hammers and squealing inside their armor
  • “Oh…you…you dressed them up as me for Halloween?” Reinhardt said, voice quivering.
  • Tears streamed unashamedly down his cheeks as he slowly walked over, kneeling to look at his nephews
  • “Of course. Your the best grandpa in the world,” you said, wrapping your father in a huge hug. “I can’t think of anyone being a better inspiration then you.”
  • Reinhardt bawled, honestly and hugged you gently
  • It was the most touching thing he’d ever witnessed
  • You knew it meant a lot to him to see them dressed up in his armor
  • “Thank you,” Reinhardt said, trying not to sob
  • “No problem, dad,” you said with a gentle smile.
  • Lots of photos were taken that night and your family was easily picked out as the scariest among all the trick or treaters
The Joker x Reader - “Mini Monster in Training”

The Joker is going to babysit his daughter alone for the first time. You really need to get away for a little bit so hopefully the two of them will manage without you. How hard can it be?!

“Here she is, baby,” you whisper, handing over your 6 months old daughter to J.  She’s still sleeping and he reaches his hands, impatient:

“Gimme!” he grins, placing Emma on his chest, careful not to wake her up. “I don’t want you to go,” he talks in a low voice, caressing her back.

“I’ll only be gone for a few hours, OK? I really need to dye my hair and get out of the penthouse for a little bit.”

“What if I have to change her? I don’t like that part,” The Joker pouts, pulling on your hand.

“Then just change her, you’ll be fine. Text me or call me if something happens,” you lean over to kiss him, then kiss her little head and sneak out of the bedroom before he complains some more.

“Don’t stay too long!” you hear him before closing the door.

It’s for the first time J is babysitting on his own. Since it’s still morning, he takes a little nap with her, feeling lazy for once. When she starts moving around he opens his eyes, hoping she won’t wake up yet. He keeps on looking at her, amazed on how cute she is.

She’s so adorable, he thinks, mesmerized by her dark blonde, curly hair. I sure made a beautiful baby; I’m such a stud! J praises himself since there is no one else around to do it for him.

Emma starts rubbing her eyes, and finally lifts her head up, babbling something The Joker finds irresistibly sweet so he kisses her forehead, taking a deep breath, not understanding why he feels so ecstatic.

“Hey, Pumpkin Pie, we’re home alone, what do you think about that, hm? Wanna have some fun with daddy?”

She grows more and more impatient and he has to get up, heading towards the living room.

“What are you wearing?” he chuckles, noticing the writing on her little pink onesie: “Miss J - Mini Monster in Training.” You two ordered so many personalized clothes for her she has a room full that will hopefully be worn at least once before she grows older. “That’s right, daddy’s Mini Monster,” he lifts her up really high in his arms and she giggles like a little mouse, showing him the few little teeth she has. “You like that? Daddy knows what you like,” he smirks, putting her down in the crib with a bunch of toys.

“I have to take a shower and I’ll be right back, little Princess,” and he heads towards the bathroom when he gets the text from you:

“I forgot to tell you I fed and changed her before I left so you should be good for a while.”

Thank God, The Joker rolls his eyes, relieved, trying to be as fast as possible while getting ready for the day.

After he’s done he takes his daughter with him in the office, holding her while trying to write down in his agenda. Emma pulls on his diamond earring, trying to get the shiny stone out.
“Auch, little Doll, that kind of hurts,” he moves his head away from her tiny hand and she won’t have any of it so she starts whimpering, unhappy he’s denying her something she was having fun with.

“Oh, no, don’t cry, daddy doesn’t like that,” he frowns, bouncing her in his arms for a bit, then he gives up, resigned, letting her go back to her play while she coos, starting to chew on his shirt. Her hands move from his earring to his hair, pulling on the green strands.

“You like my hair?” he scribbles on the paper, absent minded while she keeps on drooling and biting even more on his favorite shirt. “Pumpkin Pie, not on my purple shirt!” he whines, exasperated when finally notices what she’s doing. J puts her down on the floor, wiping as much as he can off the silk and she starts slowly crawling around his feet, rattling some of the toys she finds around the carpet from time to time.

The Joker feels her by his leg but doesn’t pay attention until it’s too late: she is chewing on his favorite pants now, preoccupied with her task.

“Noooo, little Princess, not my pants too,” J huffs, lifting her up again and he realizes it wasn’t probably a good idea to wear fancy clothes while babysitting. He heads towards the closet and gets a pair of sweatpants out, quickly changing before the baby gets too fussy in the crib.

“There, better,” he concludes and seeing she dribbled all over her onesie, he wants to change her too. He digs around her attire, not being able to decide until he finds the yellow one-piece that gets his attention: “Mommy just wanted a massage and here I am.” He starts laughing, amused, remembering that night: this really is how Emma happened. Of course it was your idea to have it immortalized on fabric.

The Joker puts her on the bed and since he’s doing all this work, might as well change her diaper too, even if it’s barely wet. He is super-fast because he hates diaper duty and after his daughter is all buttoned up in the onesie, he notices he forgot to give her a new Pampers.

“Dammit!”, he mumbles, starting all over again, struggling to keep her in place and she fights him on the verge of crying because he’s taking too long and she wants her freedom. “There, there, you’re done!” he announces, tossing her in the air and catching her, avoiding disaster because now she’s very happy again. “Daddy knows what you like!” he squishes her chubby cheeks together, kissing them and… up in the air again.  After three more rounds he stops and goes on the balcony, showing Emma the city but she couldn’t care less: that bright green hair seems to be her favorite toy today.

“Little Doll, would you like to have a brother or a sister later on?” he switches her on the order arm, looking down from the 30th floor. She baby talks and blows a raspberry, beginning to munch on his shoulder.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he snickers, ticklish at her touch. “You know, mommy will probably disapprove: she says her boobs got as big as Titanic after she had you, but I don’t see the harm in that. Daddy likes it,” he admits, thinking about it for a few moments before coming back to reality, disappointed you’re not there so he can stare at your cleavage. “Are you hungry?” it finally clicks for him and goes back inside, taking some baby food out of the fridge.

He places her in the baby seat in the kitchen and starts feeding her from the small jar. For some reason The Joker decides to taste a bit of her food and it sends shivers down his spine.

“Wow, this tastes like crap, how can you eat it, kid?!” but Emma seems to enjoy it. She is rubbing her eyes again, yawning, refusing the spoon and he suspiciously tries to guess on what she might need.

“Are you tired, Pumpkin Pie?” he pets her little head, wiping the food off her face. She winces when he picks her up, her lower lip quivering and he tries to soothe her.

“I’m tired too, you exhausted daddy to the maximum and only Y/N is usually able to do that. Your mom’s a naughty little fox, did you know that? “ he mutters, stretching his back while his daughter’s eyes are slowly closing, sucking on her thumb half asleep.

He gets in bed too and covers her with the blanket, determined to stay there 5 more minutes until she is completely out before going back to his work.

But he dozes off too because babysitting sure is a difficult chore even for The Clown Prince of Crime.

You were only gone for about four hours and a half, that’s why you are surprised to find both your sunshines passed out in the master bedroom.

“God, that’s sexy,” you softly laugh when you see the dried out drool on his shoulder, barely kissing his cheek so you won’t wake him.

I wonder if he would want another baby later on, you think but then you glance down at your huge boobs and sigh, annoyed. Maybe not a good idea for now.

Also read- MASTERLIST:

http://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

Father Daughter Time (Tony Stark X Daughter X Reader)

Characters: Tony Stark X Daughter X Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: Mentions of sickness, and vomit

FLUFF

Request: Can I ask for a tony stark x reader one? They’re married and have a baby. While tony has the baby for a few hours she throws up all over him and he’s horrified and the team just laughs at him.


Originally posted by bucky-is-done-with-this-shit

Originally posted by babyphotography1

You had been married to Tony for nearly five years now, and you had recently added to your family, with beautiful baby girl called Marie, after his mother. She was only a few months old, just starting to be able to crawl, but even that was limited. She had to watched at all times.

You did the mornings, stimulating her with toys, tv, music and trying to teach her to crawl, and maybe try and mimic you. When you needed a nap or you were sleeping, Tony put his work away and gave Marie his full attention. You could bet if you woke up to her crying, you’d soon hear your husband shushing her.

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Stimming, Access and Consent

This is something I’ve mentioned a lot at various times, but it’s popped up this week through conversations with my doctor, researching migraine triggers, yesterday’s post on the Version 2 Fidget Cube knock-off and this post on clashing access needs in which @stimful-gifts mentioned this blog.

Since I’ve been wanting to write a proper post on this for a very long time now, I’m taking this as a sign from the universe to let the inbox wait a while longer.

My thesis is this: stim toys change our immediate environment. To direct our movement, provide distraction or enable focus, they offer up something we can touch, feel, smell, move, taste, chew, manipulate, watch or hear, often in varying combinations. Some toys only impact our immediate environment; some toys impact a much larger space, including the space occupied by other people.

Stim toys wouldn’t work if they didn’t change our environment in some way.

Abled, neurotypical culture works on the idea that certain types of environmental change are acceptable, based on ableist assumptions of what humans can tolerate. Playing pop music, for example, is generally assumed acceptable in supermarkets and shopping centres. Perfume is also considered acceptable when one is out in public.

We have this idea that if something fits that unquestioned category of acceptable environmental change, we don’t need to ask permission to make that change in a shared space. The problem comes when people have needs that don’t match that category of “acceptable” - both the environmental access needs of ND and disabled people but also the needs of people who just don’t want to hear pop music while buying a loaf of bread. Even for able-bodied NTs, this system of assumption over seeking consent is unfair and needs to be dismantled.

It is natural to not question the changes stim toys make on the environment around us. Even we, folks who most often have significant environmental access needs (including the need to stim), are quick to disregard needs we don’t have if it falls into that intuitive, unquestioned, ableist category of “acceptable environmental change”. We’re trained from birth to evaluate everything this way, so of course we don’t think about it.

I’m autistic with the SPD fun package deal. This week my doctor gave me the additional word “migraine” in an effort to explain why I react so badly to so many things: chemicals, petrol, perfume, varnishes, movement, flickering, bright lights, loud noises, sharp noises, the glow of the computer screen. I get headaches, dizziness, vertigo, partial seizures. Your hands tapping on your phone screen will distress me. Your perfume and flashing lights will put me to bed. Your clicking will make me scream and snap. Clicking toys, noisy toys, rattling toys, toys with flashing lights, LED spinners, toys scented with artificial fragrance/perfume, toys with chemical odours, toys that have a lot of flickering movements - these will make me distressed, uncomfortable, ill or unable to stand. If these things happen in a space where I am already compromised (on a train where I’m dealing with motion sickness, or in a noisy/crowded space) it’s even more disabling.

There are a great many stim toys and bodily stims that will make me unable to be a comfortable participant in any given shared environment. (There’s even more objects that aren’t stim toys or bodily stims that do the same, although I’d argue that many of these are pretty stimmy, just more culturally acceptable. Perfume, for example.) There are a great many of my own stim toys and bodily stims that will make someone else an uncomfortable participant in any given shared environment.

As stimmers, we need to be aware of the changes our toys make to any given space and have active communication with other folks in that space. We need to seek their permission to change it. There is a very big difference between a person not wanting to go outside with someone using a chewable because they’re chewing (ableism) and a person who can’t bear the slurping sounds made by the chewer (conflicting access needs), and we need to be conscious of that difference and be willing to discuss alternatives.

(Sometimes there are no alternatives. Sometimes the only option is for the people impacted to be in two or more different spaces. That’s frustrating and unfair, but it’s also the reality of disability and conflicting access needs.)

If your toy changes the environment, you should get the consent of all the other people who occupy that environment before using that toy in a shared space. (Remember that your own private space is great for all these toys, and you have every right to use them when there is nobody else impacted by them.) We must start a culture of being aware of the changes our toys make and having discussions about using them. We need to empower ourselves with a broad stim kit so that we have options if one toy bothers someone in a space we’re sharing.

I actively encourage everyone to have as many different sorts of toys as is possible (aside from it being good practice for physical injury concerns) and even different variations of the same types of toy, as that increases the likelihood of finding something people around you can tolerate and decreases your frustration at having to take up a toy that doesn’t fill your needs of that moment. A chewable that makes fewer or quieter slurping sounds, for example, to swap for the one that bothers someone else, even if it isn’t your favourite chew pendant.

Safety and access requirements we need to consider in our toys include:

  • Is it made from something that might provoke an allergic response, like rubber or latex?
  • Does it contain a fragrance? Is that fragrance artificial (perfume) or natural (essential oils)? Does it have a chemical odour or contain chemicals that can be inhaled or smelt? Does it have a flavour that causes a scent?
  • Does it make a noise? Is that noise quiet or loud? Is it constant, like white noise, or periodic? Does it change in volume or intensity? Is it sharp and abrupt, like a click? Does it rattle?
  • Does it have any movement? Is that movement flashing, flickering or quick? Can that movement be distracting? Does the toy make you move? Are your movements repetitive or subtle, flickering or flashing, slow or quick?
  • Does it light up? Does the light flash or change in intensity? Does it change colour? Does it change gradually or abruptly?
  • Does it have a texture to which someone else might be exposed?

If the answer to any of those things is yes, we need to make sure that the people around us consent to that change in the environment they’re sharing with us.

For me, toys with flashing and LED lights (fidget spinners), artificial fragrances (anything not essential oils) and loud, sharp clicks are especially unsafe. Others will find latex to be dangerous. There’ll be other things I’ve left off the above list through my own lack of experience!

I’m not saying we can’t or shouldn’t use those toys. I’m just saying that if there’s any chance they’ll impact others in a shared space, we should ask. Ask your teacher or boss if anyone has any allergies, if it isn’t safe to ask your peers. Ask the people sitting next to you if they mind the click of your Tangle. It doesn’t matter if these people are ND/disabled or NT/able-bodied. We’re acknowledging that our toys can and do change the space in which they’re used and finding out if that change is going to be a concern for anyone.

(And if we can’t ask for consent, which is true of many very public places, we seek out the most low-impact toys we have in our kits: quiet, no scent, low movement, no lights or flashing, no rubber or latex. Toys like LED-light spinners are dangerous and shouldn’t be used in a public space, ever, unless everyone in that space has consented to it - and consented freely without pressure.)

By actively asking people ourselves, by not making people wait to request that we stop an annoying or difficult-to-experience stim, we’re building a culture where we’re all able to discuss more freely one’s sensory needs, where asking someone else will result in less frustration and aggression. By actively building a varied stim kit, we’re making it so a stimmer doesn’t feel they have to stop stimming - just change to a different toy, as it is incredibly important that we have the right to stim! By having conversations and giving ourselves choices, we’re creating a world where seeking consent for creating any kind of environmental change becomes a norm, and that can only help and empower ND and disabled people, regardless of whether we stim.

I need a world where people think to ask me before jingling pocket coins, stop playing with LED spinners in public or spraying perfume in a space I occupy. The road to building that, I think, starts by our showing people that the right thing to do is seek consent for those changes. It starts by my treating others how I wish to be treated. It starts by doing away with the idea that we can ever assume something won’t bother someone else and start instead assuming that something might.

TL;DR: many stim toys introduce change into the environment that impacts the people around us. As people who have sensory difficulties ourselves, and need that understanding from others, we need to be mindful of how others experience our stimming. We need to start a practice of seeking their consent to that change in spaces we’re sharing with others, regardless of whether they are ND/disabled or NT/able-bodied.

- Mod K.A.

Current Deals on Amazon - Cheap Stuff for Littles!

So, Amazon has started their Countdown to Black Friday sales. There’s some really good stuff on sale, so I’m sharing what I’ve found that’s got good discounts. (Some of this stuff is more than 50% off!) 

These could be gone in as soon as tomorrow, so jump on these deals while you can! (Post contains affiliate links. I get a little stuffie money if someone buys something. Thank you for supporting my blog! <3)

Click here to view all the deals and sort them by category.


Stuffies

🎀 30″ Teddy Bear$49.99 $25.87 (48% Off!)

🎀 Interlex Cozy Micorwaveable Stuffies (Varies)

These stuffies can be put in the microwave to warm them, and they smell really soothing! Like lavender :)  They’re really soft and cuddly, too. They have sheep, cow, panda, pig, monkey, kitty cat, frog, and horse. 

🎀 Gund Kikis Delivery Service Jiji Stuffie $16.99 $12.18 (28% Off)

🎀 Aurora World Flopsie 12″ Flamingo Stuffie $12.99 $10.17 (22% Off!)

🎀 Melissa & Doug Puppy Stuffies (Yellow Lab, Scottie, Dalmation, or Bichon Frise) $14.99 $9.99 (33% Off!)


Arts & Crafts

🎀 100 Gel Pens $20.99 $8.29 (61% Off!)

🎀 360 Gel Pens $49.00 $29.99

🎀 64 Crayola Sidewalk Chalks $11.99 $9.99 (17% Off!)

🎀 24 Face & Body Paints Set $29.99 $10.97 (63% Off!)

🎀 36 Watercolor Paints & 7 Brushes Set $19.00 $7.39 (61% Off!)

🎀 Fine-top Classic Markers $13.79 $8.60 (38% Off!)

🎀 18 Artist’s Paint Brushes $39.00 $15.79

🎀 72 Watercolor Pencils $23.25 $14.21 (39% Off!)

🎀 Portable Art Set $21.50 $10.22 (52% Off!)

🎀 48 Chalk Pastels $9.00 $4.86 (46% Off!)

🎀 Color & Cuddle Washable Pony Stuffie $18.50 $8.00 (57% Off!)

🎀 32 Crayola Crayons  $5.99 $3.78 (37% Off!)



Toys & Games

🎀 Penguin, Seal, & More Bath Toys $8.29 $6.84 (18% Off!)

🎀 Froggy Blanket Buddy Security Blanket $19.99 $13.99 (30% Off!)

🎀 Disney Lip Balms $9.49 $8.54 (10% Off!)

🎀 Butterfly Ceramic Tea Set $10.12 $24.99 (60% Off!)

🎀 Cars, Boat, & Plane Bath Squirt Toys $8.40 $5.88 (30% Off!)

🎀Rocket Ship Play Tent With Space Torch Projector $27.99 $20.99 (25% Off!)

🎀 8 Realistic Dinosaur Toys  $27.99 $15.29 (45% Off!)

🎀 Rattles & Teethers Baby Toys Set $11.90 $8.17 (31% Off!)

🎀 Princess Castle Play Tent $25.99 $20.01 (23% Off!)

🎀 Pink Bunny Plush Rattle Set $25.99 $13.59 (48% Off!)

This also comes in Blue Sheep and Brown Bear for $15.99 ^_^

anonymous asked:

Concept 1 my friend! Harry's baby boy craws in his diapers and goes under the bed and harry is trying to take it out of there and he just giggles and lays in his belly, and harry is all worried trying to get him out

 Aw Dad!Harry this is so cute. Harry would be so worried, like he would have assured you time and time again that he’d be totally find looking after the baby for the full weekend, and after heaps of convincing you’d finally agreed. The weekend had gone pretty smoothly aside from a couple of nappy incidents, until now. 

“C’mon my little man… Come teh Dadda… C’mon…”

He’d be down on the floor on his stomach, peering under the bed and rattling toys at his little son, and all the baby did was giggle. 

“Wha’ am I gonna tell mumma, huh? Oh yeah love no worries he’s absolutely fine, except fer the fac’ tha’ he’s stuck under the bed…” he’d mumble, brow furrowed as he continued his valiant efforts to get the baby to crawl towards him. 

And then, all hell would break loose as the room got a little darker, the sun beginning to set. The baby would get spooked and start crying, and Harry would be absolutely desperate by this point. “

“Oh baby… C’mon…”

And then finally his little son would crawl towards him, a little clumsily, desperate for some comfort from his dad. Harry would scoop him up, cradling him close, cuddling him into his chest. 

“Shh shh… Yer alrigh’ my son… Dadda’s here… Shhhh…”

He’d rock his little one gently, kissing his downy hair and rubbing his back with his big hand, smiling as the baby’s cries began to subside.

“There we go… See? S’all okay little man…”

Happy Accidents

I started this story for a fandom friend who has her birthday in October, but as usual I’m so slow that I’m posting this weeks too late… So I’m going to dedicate this to all the October Gleeks. Here’s a fluffy coffee shop AU for you. Enjoy!

Prompt: Blaine, who is going to the same coffee shop every morning, at the same time for his morning fuel, is confused. At the coffee shop, he often sees the same faces - of the other regulars. There is one particular face he looks forward to seeing though, but Blaine is just not sure if the face belongs to one or two men (twins). Kurt has shared custody of his kid. The weeks when he is dad he dresses one way, the other weeks he is more sharply dressed.

“A Venti Freshly Brewed Coffee for… Blaine?”

Blaine looked away from the gorgeous man he’d been admiring the profile of and hastened to the counter for his drink. “Thank you, Carmen!”

Carmen looked surprised that he’d made the effort to check her name tag and address her by her name, but as soon as it sank in, she beamed at him and wished him a good day.

“Same to you, Carmen!”

Blaine smiled at her and turned around, nearly bumping into Mr. Gorgeous. “Oops, sorry!”

Oh, would you look at those eyes!

“No harm done,” Mr Gorgeous chuckled. “And even if it had, what I’m wearing is stain-proof.”

He pointed to his black windbreaker and dark blue jeans.

“True,” Blaine answered absently, trying not to ogle the man too much – wow, he was stunning!

The man chuckled again, winked at him and moved out of his way.

Blaine looked over his shoulder, noting that the back view was just as nice. He took a sip of his coffee, checked his watch and then hurried to his dance class.

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