#themostunlikelycreature

         “I can scarcely see how,” Poppy murmurs, managing a smile that is equal parts sweetness and self-deprecation. “I know nothing of this world. Of anything beyond my yarn and horribly-tended garden.” A silence follows, comfortable despite the way it lingers. “I’d like to believe that one day. Maybe I will. You, Bilbo Baggins-- you are important. Most important, indeed.”

               "-- makin’ copies again? Isn’t that usually the intern’s job?” 

            He’s sleeping-- slumbering atop a pile of maps as only Bilbo Baggins is like to do. It’s truly an amazing feat that she manages to stifle the laugh that threatens to bubble from pursed lips. Breath held, she tiptoes closer to the table. Hesitantly, a delicate hand reaches and soft fingertips brush a lock of hair from the other’s forehead. He’s always dreaming of another adventure, it seems.

        ❝ -the fuck d’you want? ❞

Stares at u with longing tbh 

                                    xx pop

         Vanilla is the day da makes a mess of the kitchen. Cakes, he              wants. — and with his dutiful albeit tiny assistant at his side, the             attempt is made. Vanilla is his flour-covered face, his powder-             white button nose as he throws back his head and laughs. It is             the floor, yellow with yolk, when Poppy slips and all da can do              is laugh a little harder and try to help her up with slippery hands.             Vanilla is the day it takes hours to get the recipe just right and             ma cannot help but sweetly bark her advice from the bedroom.             It is the day Poppy realizes just how much she loves her da,             even if cannot crack eggs for the life of him.

     ❝ What the fuck do you think you're doing? ❞