#taken today on da roof

[fvfvxcvxcv]

Pidge

[thatfreshi]

"You Better Tell Me" (Uni AU P. 5)

You get invited to the rooftop for a smoke sesh with Shadowheart and Gale

tw - weed (reader does not partake), athletic injuries, hints at grooming

@justporo

Soon after, the group fizzles out, starting with Shadowheart saying she doesn't want to be late to church. You weren't really expecting the whole religious thing with her, but hey, if it floats her boat. Gale says he has to meet with Mystra about his thesis project, and Lae'zel heads back to the room, leaving you free to do whatever you want.

So, you spend the day walking around looking for your classes, getting used to campus, finding the cozy places to study. The library is extravagant, filled with books from the past century, with a full online database. You even stop by the pool, which is full of swim team athletes preparing for the upcoming season.

After walking around all day, you come back to the dorm room, exhausted. Shadowheart however, is leaving.

"Oh, Tav! You should come with me! Gale and I are having our weekly smoke sesh. You don't have to smoke, but we like to chill out and talk about all the shit we've heard recently."

Without even really thinking about it, you put down your bags from the bookstore and follow her out the door.

"I thought we couldn't smoke on campus?"

She smirks, leading you to the staircase.

"Well, that's the nice part of being best friends with one of the RAs, their master keys work on the roof door."

As if on cue, Gale shows up behind the two of you.

"Good evening."

Fumbling with his key ring, he opens the door for the two of you to get onto the roof. It's a little chilly this high up. The lights of the city are apparent over the edge of the roof.

"You got Tav to join us?"

"I guess so. We're just cool Gale, we have to accept it."

The two laugh as Shadowheart takes a small plastic baggie out of her tote bag. Like clockwork, the two get to work rolling.

"You want one?"

You shake your head at him.

"No thanks. Honestly just hear to listen to all the gossip."

"See, I knew I liked you."

Shadowheart smiles, taking out her lighter.

"So, what do you want to know?"

You're all sitting on top of one of those electrical boxes, one that clearly isn't in use anymore. You hesitate, knowing you probably will get weird looks for your question.

"Lae'zel... what happened to her leg?"

Gale sighs, and Shadow goes to pull up a video somewhere in her camera roll. The two don't speak, instead showing you a video of a track meet from the previous year. You watch as Lae steps the wrong way, taking a nasty fall, the video picks up the scream she lets out on the track. Gale is the first to speak up.

"She fucked up her entire leg. Started as a sprained ankle, but she tried to keep going. Ended up tearing up her hamstring, and eventually tore the connection between her leg and her foot. Couldn't walk for months."

"Lae'zel doesn't like to talk about it though. She was supposed to be in the Olympics next year, but no amount of physical therapy has worked. As much as she pisses me off, I feel bad talking about it sometimes. Her whole family is full of famous athletes, and now she can't even play her sport anymore."

You weren't expecting the conversation to get so sad so fast, but it is tragic. The idea that you spend your whole life working towards something, and you can lose it all so fast.

"That fucking sucks."

Almost immediately changing the mood, Shadowheart lets out a gasp.

"Wait. Okay before I show you all this: Gale, Tav and Astarion fucked."

His eyes immediately fill with shock.

"I'm sorry. You, and that man, had sex? When?!"

"Ugh, last night. It was stupid and complicated, and then this morning I screamed at him."

"Yeah, and then he left crying. I don't think I've ever seen him cry."

The guilt bubbles back up again, unsure if you did the right thing. Before you can ask the group why they all hate him so much, Shadowheart shows you a paparazzi picture.

"Apparently this was taken earlier today. Looks like somebody's mad at Daddy, boohoo."

You almost ignore her mocking tone. It's Astarion and Szarr in the photos, having what looks like an intense argument at an outdoor shoot.

"You think he'd figure out how to stop complaining by now."

Gale takes another puff, coughing a little.

"Why are you guys so mean to him?"

Shadow almost doesn't know how to answer you.

"I mean, you've met him. He's just some rich kid piece of shit Tav."

"You should've seen him, at the party."

Gale perks up.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, the whole thing just makes me feel sick. Like something isn't right, but I don't know what. I met one of the other models, Aurelia, and she was being super cryptic and scary."

The two are fully staring at you now.

"And I met Szarr. He's a full-on creep, gave me this weird kiss on the hand. It was gross, but Astarion? He was like tense. I don't know, it just felt wrong."

"Yeah, but Astarion's been modeling for like six years now. I'm sure he knows the industry well enough to avoid people if they're truly bad people."

It's clear Shadow has made up her mind, but you're still not so sure. Before you can say anything else, she's trying to look at Gale's phone.

"Who are you blushing at?! Is there some lover I don't know about?"

He snatches his phone from her.

"Okay, I'll tell you if you stop trying to take my shit. I may or may not be seeing someone, as of today. BUT, she wants to keep it private for now, so no you can know!"

"Come on, please! I'm your best friend."

"As soon as I can, I'll tell you. But for now, please respect her privacy."

Shadow dramatically rolls her eyes, taking another hit.

"Fine, but as soon as I can know, you better tell me!"

The three of you talk about some other random stuff for the next hour or so. Within that hour, the photos of Astarion and Szarr are wiped from the internet, much to Shadowheart's disappointment. You tune out for a lot of the conversation, thinking about just how much shit you've already gotten yourself into. Although, you'll most definitely be back for next week's smoke sesh. Besides, you need all the help you can get with just how wild this place seems to be.

[aprocessionofthoughts]

All the Little Aches

ai-less whumptober 2023 day 16- chronic pain fandom- Danny phantom TW- chronic pain summary- The portal leaves him with more negative consequences than just killing him

ao3 ailesswhumptober masterlist part 2 of DA

Danny rubbed his left hand. It ached. 

He could only be glad he was right handed because he still had several more class periods where he would be expected to take notes.

Sam and Tucker were good about giving him their notes when he needed it.

But he didn’t want to need it.

It had been three months already. Why wasn’t he getting better? Why wasn’t the pain going away? 

His hand pulsed in pain again, and Danny winced as the pain shot through his arm and his back. His whole left side felt tingly like it had fallen asleep.

He just had to get through the school day and hope there weren’t any big ghost fights. He just wanted to lay in bed and try to ignore everything.

If only his stupid ghost half didn’t make taking pain medication impossible.

If he could just have a couple days where it didn’t hurt, or feel tingly, or numb…

Then his ghost sense went off.

He dropped his head onto his desk and groaned.

Danny stood. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Mr. Fenton wait just a–”

Danny let the door close and made his way to an empty hallway before transforming and flying off. 

He grimaced. The pain was always worse in this form, his lichtenberg scars feeling like they were on fire, but thankfully not glowing through the suit like when he had a seizure. He had thankfully not seen Johnny since that incident.

“Beware!”

Oh, thank all the Ancients! It was just Boxy.

“Hey! Boxy! Over here!” Danny said, stopping over the park.

The Box Ghost floated out of a recycling bin. “I am the Box Ghost! Beware.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. I get it, you’re the recycling ghost.”

“No. I am the Box Ghost! Beware!”

The pain in Danny’s shoulder flared again and he grimaced. “Look, I can’t really do this whole thing right now. So why don’t you go ahead and just stay still so I can put you in soup time?”

Danny had just gotten the thermos out when a beam of energy blessed him in the shoulder and crashed to the pavement. 

“You aren’t getting away this time, ghost boy!”

Danny picked himself up from the pavement. “Look, Red, can we reschedule? I’m really not feeling up to this today.” He dodged a pink blast meant for his head. “I guess that’s a no then.” He turned around. Aaaaand of course the Box Ghost got away.

He flew up, dodging blasts and flying towards Valerie. 

They grappled as Danny tried to get her newest weapon away from her, and as she tried to end him. 

He had finally gotten ahold of the weapon and landed on a roof. He was just about to phase it into the roof when his left hand spasmed and pain shot through his whole left side. The gun dropped from his fingers and Danny gritted his teeth waiting for the pain to ebb. 

He didn’t realize he had closed his eyes till he heard a familiar blaster power up. He sucked in a breath and opened his eyes. And oh. He had apparently also fallen on his knees. That was probably going to hurt later.

His eyes were watery as he looked up at Valerie. 

She wasn't firing. Why hadn’t she fired? I mean, don’t get him wrong. He was grateful to still be among the mostly alive. But she had had plenty of opportunity to shoot him.

“What’s wrong, Red? Run out of ammo?” And okay, that came out wobblier than he would have liked.. He probably shouldn’t have said anything.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Apart from being a ghost?”

“Why’s your arm glowing like that? A new power?”

Danny glanced down at his arm. Ah shoot, two times in one week. His life sucked.

“What? This old thing, it’s just cosmetics.”

Valerie glared at him. Or at least he assumed she was glaring at him. It was hard to tell with the tinted visor.

“It looks like lightning.”

Danny flinched, he couldn’t help it.

“What’s it from?”

Danny couldn’t help it. He snarled, his eyes glowing. “None of your business.”

Val had taken a step back, but her weapon was now pointed at his chest.

“Is that how you–”

“I’d watch how you finish that sentence, Valerie,” she flinched, “most ghosts would kill you for mentioning such sensitive topics. Be grateful I have more restraint.”

They stood staring at each other before Valerie lowered the gun an inch.

“Why did you drop the gun?”

“Dying doesn’t fix everything.” Danny said, turning away. “I’m going to go. Got ghostly things to do, ghostly places to be.” 

He flew off, expecting a beam to hit him at any moment. When none did he turned over his shoulder to look back. Valeire was staring after him, her gun pointed at the ground.

AN: while everyone's experience with chronic pain is different, this is modeled after some of my own experiences with chronic pain

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Reflections

Chapter Three

Master List / Real People Master List / Reflections Master List

Pairing: Mia MacAlsdair x Au Tom Hiddleston

Warnings: none, 18+ Minors do not interact

A/N: I apologize in advance should my Scottish/English interpretations be incorrect. I am Canadian playing in a world of my own making. Do not @ me.

**I do not tag. **To be notified of updates and new works, subscribe to me or the story on AO3 for email notification, or follow the library blog @tilltheendwilliwrite-library  with notifications turned on so you’re not missing out. An account is required to access my work on AO3. For more information on how to get your FREE AO3 account, see this post.

Mia marvelled out the car window at the house. The pictures didn't do it justice. 

It was Tudor style; the white-washed daub between the timber frames, steeply pitched gables, and thatched roof made it easy to distinguish between that and other periods. Brick and pipe chimneys smoked merrily. The casement window glass gleamed with shine and a fresh coat of white paint. 

Two years of Covid and a subscription to Home and Garden Television, along with Tubi and their shows on restoration projects across the UK, apparently imparted lessons that were paying off. 

The door was kelly green with a white climbing rose clinging to the wall. The plant crossed the lintel and spanned the area above the house's main floor windows. Someone had taken great care of the garden, for flowers bloomed in veritable heaps of colour below every window before the well-kept yard spread out in a wash of lush green lawn, meticulously mowed. 

Trees surrounded the property, but she could make out more buildings farther into the grounds, though Jacob - her driver - pulled up in front of the cobblestone path that led from the raked gravel drive to the door. 

"It's bigger than I thought," Mia murmured, allowing him to get the door and her to step outside. The house was triple the size of anything she could afford back in Canada.

The fresh air was crisp and clean, and the sun peeking through the clouds was lovely. She stood and basked, eyes closed, taking it in momentarily before moving away from the car. 

She couldn't help but smile at the unique roof and the fancy thatching. After hours of devouring the shows on home restoration for period properties, she had enormous respect for the men and women who could accomplish such an incredible craft. It was truly remarkable that, after hundreds of years, such material and labour were still used today. 

Before she could touch the doorknob, already in love with the door's colour, it swung open to reveal a short, stout woman wearing a frilly apron. Her hair was flaming red, her eyes emerald green, but her cast of wrinkles bespoke her age. Still, her smile was wide and welcoming, if a little guarded. 

“Camila MacAlasdair?”

"Mia, please," she smiled and held out her hand. "Mrs. Bailey?"

"Ock, we don't shake the hands of family," she huffed, grabbing Mia's wrist and hauling her forward into a hug that should have come from someone the size of Fergus. "Yer wee gran would 'ave taken one look at ye and known ye were Callum's girl. Ye've yer da's eyes."

Mia leaned into the hug - though leaned down was more accurate. "You knew them well?"

"I've been keeping house for yer grandparents since yer da was a wee lad. It was a shame what happened with yer mum. A true shame. Would that they had lived to see ye and tell ye all this themselves." 

Grief tugged at Mia's heart for her lost family. "Yeah."

"Bah!" Mrs. Bailey set her back and lightly patted Mia's arms. "Here I am holdin' ye in the door like an eejit when yer probably puggled. Let's get ye a scran and settled 'afor I go talkin' yer ear off." 

The woman turned on her heel and set off into the house.

"Puggled?" Mia murmured to Jacob, arriving with the first of her bags. 

"She means tired," chuckled the very British Jacob. 

With the thicker accents of the Scots she'd spent the last week with, it was a shock to have Jacob greet her in a voice that reminded her of Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. 

He'd been kind enough to help her decipher a few of Fergus and Ivy's more colourful sayings. 

Your head's full of mince was one of them. Your bum's out the window was another.

"Ah," Mia nodded, wondering if there was an app for deciphering Scottish - and British - English as even Jacob caused her to blink in confusion when he asked if she were 'taking the piss' and had to explain himself. 

She would see about that later. Fergus gifted her a fancy new phone with what he termed better encryption and security. It was also already attached to her household expenses and ran on the nation's phone service.

Mia stepped beyond the threshold and bit her cheek to keep her jaw from dropping. The low-beam ceiling was spectacular! 

Dark wood separated by white dab spanned the spaces between beams that looked like entire trees held up the ceiling. The wood flooring had planks that were so wide they, too, looked like they came from a whole tree. The rich dark brown of the well-loved wood made the house feel so warm.

She stepped into a kitchen right out of a fairytale. 

Expansive windows threw light across the floor, reflected off the pans hanging above the antique stove and glinted on cut crystal vases filled with sweet-smelling flowers. Pots of fresh herbs sat in the window sills. Butcher block countertops ran the length of all the cabinets and covered the island. 

An enormous fireplace occupied one wall, but a pot belly stove sat in the center, glowing a merry orange with the cheerfully burning fire. The mantel was another massive piece of timber, upon which sat a host of - what Mia assumed were - ancient kitchen utensils. They looked neat, some dull or rusted with age, while others carried a dark patina and still more shone with copper. 

Before the fire, a round rug of burgundy and cream anchored two forest green wingback chairs with a small round table between them. It was of caramel-coloured wood, the top a little scarred with age, but it held a tea tray with the most gorgeous bone china tea service Mia had ever seen. 

The white china fairly blazed against the dark backdrop, while the purple thistle and green leaves caressed the curves of the china with delicate brush strokes. 

A small but fancy chandelier hung over the sink, but recessed pot lights covered the ceiling and would likely add to the warm glow at night, though they weren't currently on.

Mrs. Bailey poked a few mounds of dough back down at the island into their bowls before covering them with sunny yellow tea towels.

"Is that bread?"

"Aye. I always make bread on Mondays." There was something in how she said it, almost as if she challenged Mia to say something contrary.

Mia toed her shoes off beside the door and drifted closer. "I always wanted to learn, but Colt said it was a waste of time."

Mrs. Bailey's sharp eyes jumped to her face and the bruises she attempted to tone down. It wasn't easy to hide, not without also covering her freckles, and Mia didn't want to do that anymore. 

"Ye've quite the keeker. I've some salve to help if ye want it."

"Did you make that too?"

Mrs. Bailey burst out laughing. "Naw! I'm a baker and a cook, alright, but I'm naw chemist."

Mia grinned. "I'd love to try the salve. I'm not sure which is worse, the black when it was fresh or the sickly yellow-green it is now."

Mrs. Bailey's brows drew together, and thunder filled her face. "The bloke who did it, he gonna be a problem?"

Mia snorted. "No. I left him in Canada, and he has no idea I'm here."

Her face cleared. "Good. Would've given 'im a good hard smack with a pan for laying hands on a lady."

Mia laughed. "No one has ever called me a lady."

"Yer lady of this house now, so expect to hear it." Again, there was tension behind the words.

Mia wasn't always the best at social cues in the fancy circles Colt aspired to. Still, after years in the foster system, not that she'd lived in any genuinely horrible situations, she'd learned to read people and the tension in their bodies reasonably well. 

Only one of her homes was a bad place where the father drank excessively. He never touched any of the kids under his care, but he often yelled, smashed things, and made threats. She learned quickly to go to her room and stay out of his way.

So when Mrs. Bailey's brows pulled together in worry, and she picked at a crusty bit of dough on the island, Mia attempted to put two and two together. 

"You know, I was thrilled when Fergus told me the house and the people associated with it were taken care of," she said, attempting to appear like she was admiring the pots hanging over the stove and not about to freak out. "I don't know the first thing about a place like this other than it's gorgeous, and I still can't believe I get to stay here. I wouldn't want people to think I would come here and make crazy changes, like fire everyone. It's not in my nature, and honestly, after the last few years, I'm just happy to have a home."

The last came out a bit of a hoarse whisper as surprise tears seared her nose and throat. 

"Ye've had a time of it, haven't ye, Mia?"

She made the mistake of glancing at Mrs. Bailey, compassion in every line of her face, and broke down in tears. 

"There now." The older woman enveloped Mia in a hug and rubbed her back. "Been a hard road, but yer here now. And we look after our own. Ye have yerself a wee greet. Then I'll show ye the house and put the tea on."

Mia sniffled. "Does tea include fresh bread?"

Mrs. Bailey chuckled. "Of course!"

Mia hugged her tight. "Excellent."

~

The house was a dream. 

All the times Mia watched someone restore their period home on television, she'd sighed in longing. However, after the first time she pointed out how gorgeous the craftsmanship of those older buildings was, even the restored barns, Colt snorted in contempt and called them filthy she hadn't brought it up to him again. 

Laying on her back on a beautiful wide bed with a thick white duvet, Mia stared at the crisscrossed ceiling and let the tears come. 

She'd been so blind to Colt's faults, so desperate for love and affection after being alone most of her life that she ignored his red flags. Some, she even turned around and placed on herself as her faults. She'd accepted blame and tried to change herself when he was in the wrong.

Tears dripped down her cheeks, but they didn't last long. She cried for broken dreams and lost love, but she wasn't cynical enough to believe that would be the end for her. Mia would love again, but she'd learned tough lessons and would guard her heart with higher walls next time. 

For now, she would put Colt behind her and move on with her life. It was here, it was new, and though it was a little scary, it was also exciting. 

She sat up, wiped her face, and took in the sun-drenched bedroom. A fire burned in a beautiful iron grate in a modest fireplace between two floor-to-ceiling windows. Cream club chairs offered a welcome seat to soak in the view or the heat. Antique dressers now held the clothing she purchased, as did the pair of wardrobes. And, of course, the same stunning floor of overly wide wooden planks felt like they'd been polished smooth with literal generations of feet. 

Off the bedroom was a bathroom straight out of a fantasy novel. A clawfoot tub sat on a riser within the confines of an alcove beneath a large octagonal window. The plank flooring gave way to large slate tiles, slightly misshapen, clearly hand-hewn. Again, it felt polished beneath Mia's feet. 

A double sink sat in a vanity that looked like an antique dresser, while the mirror above appeared hand-carved or made from the bones of old crown moulding. It was magnificent, with the small wall sconces glowing on either end. 

In virtually every room, some potted plant or vase full of flowers added greenery to the space, and her bathroom was no different. 

She wasn't sure what the leafy plant on the sink was called, but she was determined to learn how to care for them and help out. 

As Mrs. Bailey - first name Cora - showed her around through receiving rooms, drawing rooms, her late grandfather's study, the dining room, and five guest rooms, she introduced Mia to Oliva and Skye. The young women helped with the housework, general cleaning, laundry, and the like. 

Cora explained the two women had received the items shipped from Edinburgh, found the boxes with her clothing, and unpacked them into the master bedroom. 

It felt a little weird moving into what once was her grandparents' space, but Cora assured her the mattress and bedding were new, changed out when they learned she would be coming to stay. Her grandparents' clothing and the like were stored in the attic until she decided what she wanted to do with it. They had yet to bother with the rest of the house, as Mia could add or edit as she pleased. 

So far, Mia was under the impression that her grandparents had impeccable taste. The antiques were glorious and well cared for. What brick-a-brack she saw seemed well chosen and possibly of value. Clearly, her grandmother had a thing for Waterford Crystal, not that Mia blamed her. 

Her grandfather - apparently - carved and painted wooden ducks. The gorgeous creatures were lovingly displayed in his former office, riding the plate rail that ran the room's circumference. 

They had stored her art supplies, works in progress, and finished paintings there. 

Mia vaguely wondered if that was where her talent came from before Cora shooed her along, talking about how the house was fully renovated right before Covid hit, keeping the old world charm while modernizing things like the insulation, the lighting, wiring, plumbing, heat and air. 

She could only imagine the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent modernizing the house while retaining its classic look and feel. 

The house tour ended in one parlour where another potbelly stove glowed brightly beside a burgundy velvet sofa. Skye was there with the tea tray, Olivia a step behind with another of fresh bread, preserves, and a crock of whipped butter. 

Mia intended to invite the women to stay, but Cora shooed them out, sat with a thump on the couch, and made to pour the tea, but Mia beat her to it. 

She wasn't much for superstitions, but her mother always laughed and said, 'the lady of the house poured the tea unless she wanted to end up enceinte.' Mia was eight when she finally asked what the word meant, but she never forgot the way her mother laughed and explained about the silly old wives' tale. Still, it was one of the weird things that stuck in her brain and arose at odd times. Like now, when she realized this was her house. She owned it, lock, stock, and barrel. 

It made her hyperventilate a little. 

Then, as she handed Cora a delicate tea cup, the woman bluntly asked how she got the black eye. 

It surprised Mia, but she told Cora the truth. When an ocean separated them, there was no point in lying to save face or protect Colt. But, as Cora poked a little at still raw feelings, Mia felt the fresh prickle of tears. 

It was only a week—seven days from losing everything to gaining everything. 

Cora made a displeased sound with her tongue and changed the subject, but the thunderous set of her brows said if she ever met Colt, he might become intimately acquainted with one of the cook's larger frying pans. 

She asked instead about Mia's art, and happy to talk to someone about her joy, Mia ate three slices of bread, liberally spread with butter and jam, drank two cups of really lovely tea, and nattered on about what she did and why. She thought it might bore the woman, but Cora's eyes were excitedly bright, though a bit of confusion lingered.  

"Well, ye've all the time in the world to paint now, love," Cora grinned. "Yer grandad had a woodworking shop near the barn that might suit ye if we clean it out."

The idea of it excited her when Cora encouraged her to have a walk around, but Mia returned upstairs to change first. It was roughly six degrees Celsius, and coming out of a Canadian winter when minus forty wasn't unheard of, six degrees was relatively balmy, but Scotland was damp in comparison. Mia learned quickly that you could get rained on at any time. 

Thus, she'd ended up sprawled across the bed, staring at the ceiling, attempting to adjust to the metamorphosis her life went through in a short amount of time. 

Quiet laughter echoed in her head, and she closed her eyes as the gentle touch of a caring hand danced across her forehead. 

Loki was patiently waiting for her to unpack his things. 

Smiling, Mia looked around the room. The dresser across from the foot of her bed was long and low with a vase of fresh flowers but otherwise empty. 

It took very little time to unpack and cleanse the altar and set everything back as it should be. Once finished, Mia admired her handiwork before rummaging through the bags brought up by the maids. A few pretty crystals and a pewter bowl joined her collection, as did two silver candlesticks meant for fat pillar candles. She bought two in vanilla, two in citrus, and two with a cinnamon kick.

For now, she placed the cinnamon-scented ones in the holders, and the others remained wrapped in tissue paper she tucked into a drawer. 

Loki hummed his pleasure, the warmth of it like the summer sun glowing in her chest. 

"I'm glad you like it. Thank you for leading me here."

Here is where you belong.

Mia grinned. Yeah, she felt that, too.

Next Chapter

[adarkrainbow]

Since people have taken an interest to some of the "Hansel and Gretel" variations I have been posting about, here is a few more ones for your delight.

I will start with a very important yet currently unreadable one. It is commonly agreed that when the Brothers Grimm re-edited and rewrote Hansel and Gretel, in their post-1842 versions of the tale, they were influenced by an Alsacian story that had been collected and written in German by August Stöber, as "Das Eierkuchenhäuslein". The translation would be "The Little Pancake House" - the Eierkuchen being indeed quite close to a pancake, being an Alsacian variation of the French crêpe, but thicker and crunchier. Notably several expressions and turn of phrase in the final text of the Grimm came from this story. Stöber's work is very famous and influential in the Alsace region, since he was basically the great soruce and collector of folktales and fairytales there - unfortunately his work cannot be easily accessed today. I do not speak German, and there is no online French translation of his work. They exist - his great-great-nephew did a French translation of his "Legends of Alsace" work in 2008 for example, called "A Thousand Years of history, legends, and oral traditions in Alsace", but I couldn't find any copy of the story or any access to the book anywhere. There was also a scientific edition of "Legends of Alsace" done in French in 2010, but again no luck finding it.

The Internet Archive has a big collection of August Stöber's works, but given they're in German, I can't use them.

I also talked previously of the variation of the story involving "a wolf in a sugar house", instead of a "witch in a bread house". The brothers Grimm, in their research notes, wrote that this story existed in the region of Schwaben, but they did not include it in their version of "Hansel and Gretel". And, as I said and described previously, this story survived in the Flanders region of Belgium, where it was collected and stays a known Belgian fairytale usually called "The Sugar-Candy House". (You'll find it under the tag "Belgian fairytales")

One variation that I have access to, however, is a French variant of the story, called "The Cabin with a Cheese Roof".

It was collected by H. A. Gueber in "Contes et Légendes", an 1895 collection of French folktales and legends. "The Cabin with a Cheese Roof" is noted by Gueber to be descending from a Swedish variation of the Hansel and Gretel tale. It goes as such:

Once upon a time there was an old and cruel witch who lived in a cabin, in the middle of the woods, upon a high mountain, and she liked to eat little children. So, she had the habit of placing all of her various cheeses upon the roof to attract the children of the neighbourhood. [Note: You can DEFINITIVELY tell this story is French when the candy is replaced by cheese. France loves its cheeses.] Near the witch's cabin, lived a poor peasant who had two children - a little girl who was very stupid, and a little boy who was very intelligent.

One day, the peasant sent his children in the woods to gather strawberries, and they came upon the witch's house. Since they were hungry, the boy climbed on the roof and took a cheese. The old witch, hearing a noise, asked "Who is here, upon my roof?". The boy answered with the softest voice he could: "It is little angels." "Then, dear little angels," the witch said, "eat as much cheese as you want", and she stayed sitting by the fire. The boy then took as much cheese as he could, and left with his sister.

The following day, the children returned to the witch's house, hoping to trick her again. But this time, when the witch asked who was on her roof, while the boy answered "This is just little angels!", the girl, who was said to be a chatty girl, couldn't help but answer "And I'm here too!". The witch immediately got out of the house and seized the children. "Oh yes, you are two pretty little angels, and you will make a good roast. How does your mother kills her pigs?" she asked.

The little girl said: "She cuts ther head with a big knife." But the boy said: "No, no, she places a rope around their neck." The witch placed a rope around the boy's neck, and he fell onto the ground as if he was dead. "Are you dead now?" the witch asked. "Yes." the boy answered. Of course, the witch was no fool and pointed out that if he was still speaking, he couldn't be dead. The boy answered: "If I am not dead, it is because my mother always fattens up her pig before roasting them - she says they're more delicious that way."

So the witch placed the children into a cage. "How does your mother fattens up her pigs?" she asked. "With grain." the little girl said. But the boy replied: "No, no, my sister is too young, she gets everything wrong! My mother fattens up her pigs with cakes and sweet milk." And so the witch gave them plenty of cakes to eat and sweet milk to drink.

[Note: The fact that the witch asks all that does a double effct. On one side it reduces the children to the state of pigs to be fattened and slaughtered - which is a subtext in other variations of the tale, but here is explicit - on the other, it also portraits the witch as an evil double or caricature-twin of the children's mother, trying to imitate her for perverse purposes]

One day (the story does not precise how much time passes), the witch went to the cage and said: "My eyes are hurting, and I can't see if you are fat enough." So she asks for their finger, of course. The little girl was about to give her finger, but the little boy prevented her, and rather gave a little stick - and since the witch found them "very skinny", she gave them twice as much cake and sweet milk. A few days after she asked for their finger again, and this time the boy gave a "cabbage's tail" (you know, the thick stump/stalk of a cabbage]. Finding them fat enough, she got the children out of the cage and into her cabin, asking the little girl to prepare a great fire in the oven. When it was hot enough, she asked the kids to climb, one after the other, onto the oven's shovel, so she could cook them.

The little girl was about to obey when her brother took her place. But as the witch was about to shove the shovel, the little boy rolled onto the ground. As the witch was getting angry, the boy said: "Madam, we are stupid and clumsy. Show us how to climb on the shovel!". The witch did just so, and the boy pushed her into the oven and closed the door.

The children took all of the witch'es' cheeses and returned to their father. The witch died burned in her oven, and nobody cried upon her death.

I've got more stories, but I'll place them under the cut:

Another French fairytale (folkloric one, not literary) that is often compared to Hansel and Gretel is a story called "The Lost Children" (Les Enfants Egarés). Originally collected by Antoinette Bon, Paul Sébillot took it back for his collection of Auvergne folktales - mentionning the story came from the Cantal area. It is actually a sort of cross between Hansel and Gretel, and Little Thumbling.

The story goes as such: In the past, in the village of Gargeac lived an avaricious coupled called Jacques and Toinon. Toinon was even more avaricious than her husband. They had two children, one boy and one girl, who suffered greatly due to their parents' greed and selfishness, but they were obedient and loving and so they went on in life without complaining. The boy, Jean, was twelve, the girl, Jeannette, was younger than him.

Since Jacques and Toinon hated spending money for their children, they decided to abandon them in the woods. The mother took them in the woods to gather dead wood, planning to abandon them there, so that the wolf might eat them at night. The children called their mother everywhere once they realized they were alone, to no avail. They cried and tried to find back their way, failing at this too. Jeannette told her brother to climb on a tree, to see if he could find anything. He climbed but only saw branches ; his sister told him to climb higher, but he still only saw "the green branches of the forest", she told him a third time to climb higher, and this time he saw two houses. One white, one red. Jeannette was asked by her brother which house they should go towards - and the girl chose the red house because it was "the prettiest". Spoiler: This was the wrong choice.

Knocking at the red house, they met a woman "who was as tall and strong as a man". The wife accepted to let them in, but told them to hide, because her husband was "wicked" and would eat them. She hid them as best as she could, but her husband smelled "a Christian's smell" and discovered the children. He then beat up his wife as a punishment. Something of importance: the husband is the devil. Now, it isn't the actual religious devil of Christianity, but the folkloric devil. In French fairytales of the folkloric kind, a lot of times you'll find the "devil" as an antagonist, but actually replacing what is commonly known as an ogre or a giant. Which is why you find tons of stories about man-eating, giant devils killed by heroes: this is just a Christianization of the old tales of giants and ogres. In this precise case, the devil is clearly an ogre by another name.

When the devil took Jean by the hand, he perceived that he was skinny, so he locked him up in a little stable, so that he might be fattened up - and once he is fat enough, he shall be killed. As for Jeannette, she became the servant of the household, and she regularly fed her brother (Trivia: there is an inconsistency here, as the opening of the tale mentions Jean is the oldest, but here it is said he is the "little brother" of Jeannette). Since the devil was too big/too large to enter in the stable, he couldn't check by himself Jean's atness. After a few days of fattening, he asked Jeannette to cut the tip of her brother's little finger, and to bring it to him. Jeannette rather cut the tail of a rat, and the devil was fooled into believing Jean was too skinny.

Some times later he asked again for a piece of Jean's finger, and Jeannette brought another rat tail. But the third time, the devil realized it was a rat's tail - so he placed his own hand within the stable and took Jean out of it, realizing he was fat eough to be eaten. He prepared a trestel to bleed Jean, but then decided to do a promenade before cooking. He told his wife to watch over Jean - and especially keep an eye on Jeannette, that he greatly mistrusted. However the devil's wife got drunk and sleepy. Jeannette opened the door to the pigs stable in which Jean was imprisoned [Note: we have a confirmation here of the "pigification" of the boy, already hinted by the fact that the devil wanted to bleed Jean, the same way farmers bled pigs]. Jeannette than pretended not knowing how to tie Jean to the trestle. The devil's wife, finding her stupid, placed her body onto the trestle to show her - Jean promptly tied her up, and cut off her neck. The children then took the devil's gold and silver, and fled with his horse-drawn carriage.

When the devil came back, and found his beheaded wife and the pig-stable empty, and his carriage missing, he understood what had happened. He wandered through the area searching for the children, and met a plowman. The devil asked him in a rhyme: "Vous n'avez pas vu Jean, Jeannette/ Ma charrette, / Mon cheval rouge et mon cheval blanc, / Couvert d'or et d'argent?". In English: "Have you seen Jean, Jeannette / My carriage / My red horse and my white horse / Covered in gold and silver?". The plowman however understands that the devil is saying he is badly plowing his field - and the devil has to clear up the misunderstanding before finally hearing the plowman didn't saw anything.

The devil later met a shepherd and asked him the rhyme again, but the shepherd understood that the devil was telling him his dog was not barking enough. So after the shepherd told his dog to bark after the devil, the devil had to repeat himself once again, and once more the shepherd saw nothing. The devil finally reached a river where washer-woman were working. He asked them the rhyme, the washer-women understood that the devil was telling them "You are not beating up the cloth enough", and once again he had to repeat himself to be understood. This time the washerwomen understood, and told the devil the kids had crossed the river with their carriage. But there was no bridge, and the devil complained about it. One of the washer-women understood that it was the devil they were talking to, and she informed her companions, telling them they should play some "tricks" to him.

What the washerwomen did was ask the devil to let his hair being cut, so that the women could make a bridge out of it. The devil agreed, and once his hair was cut, they elongated themselves and formed a bridge over the river - that was held by the washerwomen. But once the devil was in the middle of the bridge, they let go of the bridge, which fell in the water with the devil - and the devil drowned. The washerwomen then went to Jean and Jeannette (who had returned home), and informed them that the devil had drowned. [Note: Yes they seem to be some fairy, witchy, washerwomen, though the text doesn't say anything beyond them just being badass washerwomen].

Jean and Jeannette made their parents rich, and "everybody was happy". The moral of the story is apparently "One must be good for their parents, even when they were bad for their children". A... very debtable and questionable moral. The story ends with : "Night came, the rooster sang, and the tale ended."

To conclude this post, I will leave one final variation of the Hansel and Gretel story, that was name-dropped by the Wikipedia article about the fairytale: the Moravian fairytale "Old Grule". Collected in 1899 by Marie Kosch, the fascinating thing with this story is that it clearly takes after the German version created/collected by the brothers Grimm - for example, having the two sibling-protagonists being named "Gretel and Hans".

In this story, Gretel and Hans are naughty, disobedient children who are often beaten by their parents. One day, the two wanted to go pick strawberries in the woods, but their mother told them no, because a thunderstorm was approaching. The children being disobedient, they still went in the woods - and ended up caught in the dreadful storm (hail, rain, branch-breaking winds, thunder and lightning). They hid in a rocky cave and when the storm died own, they realized they were completely lost. [Note: It is fascinating how the beginning of this tale is the very reverse of "The Cabin with the Cheese Roof"]. As night fell, Gretel urged Hans to climb to the top of a tree, and from there he saw a light they followed.

The light led to a little cottage made of gingerbread, with a marzipan roof. [Note: Given this story is ulterior to the Grimm's H&G, we see here clearly how the idea of gingerbread and marzipan settled itself in popular imagination] The children took a ladder lying narby and climbed on the roof to eat the marzipan. The inhabitant of the house was about to go to bed when she heard the noises: she was a witch named Grule who loved to eat children. Running outside, she said with a deep voice "Who is robbing my house?" and Gretel answered "The wind, the wind" with a soft voice. The witch, satisfied, went to bed... But as the moon rose up, the witch noticed a large hole in her roof, and poking from it a child's head. So she quickly captured the two children on her roof, and locked them up in a chicken coop, enraged that they were ruining her house.

For a few days she fed the children only the best foods (cakes, sweets, fruits) to fatten them up so they could make a good roast. When it came time to check if they were fat enough, she took a knife and asked Gretel to stick out her finger - but she held out her apron's string, and as the witch cut it she said "Skinny, skinny". Same thing with Hans who gave his trouser's string. The witch, understanding that her meals of good things didn't work, switched to a diet of exclusively flour porridge. And the children grew so tired of eating flour porridge every day they didn't trick the witch the next time she came ith her knife: each time they gave their finger for her to cut into it, and as she saw one drop of blood come out from each child's finger she said "Fat, fat".

The witch went to her kitche, and the narrator describes how she prepares her oven: she makes a fire in the oven, when it dies out she takes a wooden crook to spread the coals over the entie surface of the oven, she then uses a wet straw whisk to sweep the coals in front of the oven, and then takes them out. Going to the chicken coop, she took the children, claimed she had some baked plums in her oven, and needed the kids to retrieve them for her. The kid gladly agreed, hoping they could eat the plums instead of the flour porridge. The witch went to fetch a baker's peel (what I called an "oven's shovel before) and meanwhile Gretel looked into the oven, seeing no plum at all. Understanding what the witch tried to do, Gretel played dumb and pretended not knowing how to sit on the peel, falling onto the ground every time she tried. Old Grule gathered her skirts and sat on the peel, only for the kids to burn her to death in her oven.

They returned to their parents, who were happy to see them alive - because they thought the children were dead. But the two kids still received a good beating because they had disobeyed their parents. The end.

As you can see this story is... WEIRD. There is definitively something meant to be dark humor and almost a parody of the original with how the kids are naughty brats, who enjoy being fattened up, and ultimately are not morally good heroes. In fact, the two children stay blissfully unaware of the witch's true intentions until the very end: the reason they trick the witch at first is because they actually wanted to keep eating sweets, cakes and fruits all day long, not knowing they were to be cooked later! Similarly, the whole "the witch notices a big hole in her roof" seems almost like a joke - showing how from the German story collected and spread across Europe by the Grimm, a sort of more down-to-earth, humoristic tone was added typical of many "peasant versions" of fairytales, that usually involve more jokes and like to point out a tale's own absurdity or moral ambiguity.

[toastyliltoasts]

Umbrellas and Busses (Tbh x Reader)

Ah .. Friday .. Youve been waiting for it to roll around all week .. *A/N : Mood actually .. We might need a Y/N x Reader book lmao* Dont get me wrong, You love your job .. It had short work hours and a fair pay .. But it just can be a little too much for you at times .. And not to mention some of your colleagues really getting on your nerves .. So thats why you were slightly excited to go to work today and get it over with for a week .. But as they say , All good things dont last long ..

Your boss , a chill person compared to the other bosses at work , asked you to finish some work , that was left unattended because of staff shortages ..

So thats why you were in your office / workplace , Way past the time you were actually supposed to get home .. Your face was illuminating with blue light as you check some work emails .. You look at the big , bland clock on the wall next to you ..

6.38 pm

You sigh as you look around .. Only a few people here .. And you got some more documents to go through .. "Just a couple more" You mutter , half-encouraging-ly and half-groggy , as you return to your so-called business emails ..

°•°•°•°•°•°

You wave politely to the cleaner as you leave your office .. Work has never taken that long for you to do .. You shuffle down the steps absent mindedly as you walk to the bus stop ..

You get there earlier than expected so you sit down , legs crossed at the ankles , and pull out your phone to pass time .. From the corner of your eyes you see a brunnete man , dressed in red hoodies and jeans , sit next to you (in a respectful distance *A/N : Cuz , respectfully , He is da mannn*) .. You smile at him in a friendly manner and he returns it with the same energy ..

You go back to scrolling mindlessly on your phone as he does the same .. Youre a bit emerged in a specific post as you feel a sharp drop of something fall on your head .. You look up as another drop hits you square on the forehead .. Oh .. You think as it takes a bit for you to process .. Its raining .. Great .. You think as you scramble around your bag in search for an umbrella .. Thanks to peripheral vision , *A/N : Which is thanks to the author learning Science 😌* You see the man beside you mirror your actions , searching his own bag .. You realize that you both are going to be soaked if you two dont find your umbrellas or anything to take cover with ..

Right as it hits you that you forgot to bring yours , The man pats you on your shoulder and you turn to him .. "Follow me !" He says as he gently guides you while hovering his hand over his head , silently instructing you to do so as well .. Normally , You knew not to follow a random stranger and not to do as he said because of something called "Stranger danger" but he has that mysterious yet kind look in his eyes that you cant help but follow him ..

He leads you to an entrance of a small coffee shop which has a jutted out roof so that you both were shielded from the rain .. He finally lets go of your hand , which you didnt even notice he was holding until now , and lets out a chuckle ..

"Didnt know it was gonna rain that bad" He says while messing up his hair to rid it of its water droplets .. You giggle/chuckle/(whatever suits you yk?) and shift your weight onto your left leg as you lean on the wall of the cafe .. "Yeah .. But thats a lesson learned .. Never leave your umbrella at home ?" You say it , almost as a question , over dramatically .. He laughs once more and holds out his hand .. "Im Tbh .." He says , a hint of gleam in his eyes shining through the feel of dull rain .. "Im (Y/N)" You say as you shake his hand ..

You two talk about random things for awhile , the sound of rain accompanying your conversation , as the rain slowly dies down .. You also get to know that he doesnt live that far from you and that you both get off the same stop ..

"We should probably get back to the stop .. The bus is gonna get here soon" You say as you see the clock inside the closed , might I add , cafe hit 7.15 (pm) .. The sky has taken a mix between light and dark blue as you both fell into a comfortable silence after the rain .. Tbh nods .. Tbh and you both steps over some puddles created by the said rain like a couple of children *A/N : WHY IS THAT SOO FUN LIKE WHAT ??*

The bus arrives just as you both make it to the stop .. You both get on it as it starts to move .. Tbh and you sit down on two seats next to each other and continue your conversation .. But soon enough , the drowsiness from all the work hits you as you try to focus on Tbh's words and not dozing off .. Sleep gets the best of you as you nod off .. Tbh's soft words , suprisingly , lulling you to sleep ..

~ Third person POV cuz I can ^^ ~

(Y/N) falls asleep , much to Tbh's obliviousness , as he continues talking , using his hands to emphasize his point .. He stops as he feels a soft weight hit his shoulders .. He carefully looks over to see (Y/N)'s head on his shoulders as they peaceful sleep .. He slightly panics as he questions his every move ..

Do I put my arms around them ?

Do I need to wake them up ? No , That'll be rude ..

Should I move closer to them so that they can be comfortable ?

He decides to just wing it as he scoots slightly closer and tuck his arm around their waist .. He puts his head gently on top of theirs as he falls into slumber along with them ..

°•°•°•°•°•°

Yooooooo

Les goooo :>

Hope yall liked it eeeEeEeEe

[atangledfate]

The Temple was much quieter this time around, the marble floor shined as if freshly waxed. The many pews lined the floor of the great temple and a red carpet was rolled out across the floor, with a gold etched flame embroidered upon it. The massive Marble Pillars held up the roof in a very ancient Greece sort of architecture. The massive alter stood in front of the great Brazier with the flame of life roaring in the background. The shine of the flame giving everything a soft orange hue within the temple itself. The most notable image that dotted the temple was the symbol of a feline praying with flames dancing about them.

Blaze noticed Poppy looking around now that she had a chance to simply admire it. Perhaps it was just natural curiosity of a place she would have to return to on the regular. Blaze didn't know but she did notice the Possums curious gaze.

" This is the central most Temple to Mother, and the location of the flame of life. A Long time ago during the great troubles, it said that it was the last bastion of safe harbor for all Solarians. In Honor of Mother protecting the people of Sol the built her this temple... and swore to protect her Flame... "

She motioned to the priests who were praying across the temple room.

" These priests are both the caretakers and protectors of the flame. It is there sacred oath taken generations ago... long before i was born. This is the most sacred place in all of Sol...People come from across the planet to see the flame, and bask in its glow... "

She realized how she sometimes took it for granted that she had always lived so close. But really this was a place very few got to see and only the most faithful got permission to enter. It was also her birthplace, for she was born of the flame and she knew one day she might return to it once more.

" Which is why we are very diligent in our duties, if anything were to happen to the Flame. It is said life would wither and cease to be...and so we take our duties to heart. Just as it is our Princess has her duty to the flame as well... "

Lilliana made her way down the stairs from the direction of the pyre. Her great flowing robes brushing the ground as her brilliant white wool bounced slightly with each step. Her violet eyes were quite stern but also held a great admiration when she spoke of Blaze, and the flame itself. She was wholly dedicated to her duty, this was a woman who had given her life to the flame. Someone who would never turn her back on her duties or hold her tongue when it came to her devotion. kind

" I was not aware you were bringing your Consort to this meeting? Is that wise? I am not one to question your wisdom Princess... but this isn't sort of kind hearted meeting between friends. "

Her eyes locked with Poppys much less kind then the da before as they narrowed at her.

" I would think she should be dedicating herself to learning the role she is about to be thrust into. I have no doubt that anyone in her position should be doing the same... it is a place of honor... duty... and not to be taken lightly "

Blaze sighed as she placed her hands behind herback and stood up straight as Lilliana made her entrance. Blaze knew she didn't want Poppy present but, Gardon was a wise man and she knew he was likely right. Poppy should be involved though she did agree with Lilliana as well---there was alot Poppy had to learn about her new role, and the world itself.

" She wished to be present, and Gardon thought it wise to allow her to be. I can not deny both of them there desire... for better or worse, my dearest Poppy shall attend today's lecture ..."

Lillianna gave Poppy one more look and let out a great sigh as she clutched her hands in front of her. She turned slowly as her eyes never left poppy for a long moment that Stern gaze growing stronger still.

" As she wishes... let us retire to my Office that we may speak in private... I do not wish to disturb those in prayer. "

The Sheep finally broke her gaze and made her way around the alter and away from the great pyre. A door lead to MORE STAIRS! which descended below the temple into the priests private area. The halls were quite small and narrow and they passed many doors along the winding path. Finally the room opened up into a larger chamber with more doors and pathways.

After what must have been a 10 minute walk down into the temble bowels they finally reached Lillianas office. A large room with a desk, book shelves and a few pictures of a young sheep and an elderly sheep who must have been her father. He was even more stern looking then she was. Lillianna sat behind her desk and waited for Blaze and Poppy to take a seat as she clasped her hands in front of her.

" Water? "

She asked before pouring them both a glass of water and settling in with those stern eyes locked on both of them.

" I do wish this meeting was anything but what it was. But as High Priest it is my duty to say what others might not. To be your moral compass in times when you might forget... and to help guide you toward your destiny... so i wish to say this mostly to Poppy. Do understand i do not say these things out of Malice but duty...So please try to refrain from taking things to personally..."

"That's just how you make friends sometimes. I'd be lying if I didn't say I made a few bounty hunter friends after scrapping with them." Poppy knew some people in her world could actually respect her strength as not every bounty hunter was after her just for being an opossum. Some simply wanted that money to get paid and not make it personal.

"Sounds like every world besides mine has some form of God in their world." Poppy now wonders if maybe there are any demi-gods running around in Flora, though quickly dismissed the thoughts as she was sure a royal would've found out after so many generations.

Poppy would then dry her hands and follow Blaze only to see the temple once more. "Yay, the stairs again. You guys need escalators put in or something if we gotta come here a lot." The opossum doubts that'd actually happen. At least she could say she'd be getting her steps in for the day as she started to walk up the temple stairs.

"Though at least I have a plan for getting down them super easy." A plan Poppy wouldn't reveal to Blaze just yet as she was going to surprise her with it. The opossum was sure the feline would end up enjoying it, though maybe be bit shocked as well.

Now that Poppy's attention was only focused on one specific thing actually took a bit of time to check the temple out a bit better. Still a lot of priests, though doubt that would even change, even for a day. One thing this world shared with her own was a lot of religious folks. Something the opossum didn't mind as long as you weren't in her face about it.

"Please, I don't run from nothing. Stuff normally runs from me." Poppy was mostly telling the truth as she had a pretty good talent for scaring the heck out of people if she had to with just a single look. Though only used it if they seriously ticked her off.

[miryum]

Nickels (Spot Conlon x Reader)- Part 12

I kissed Spot again before he said, "Run away wid me."

"What?"

"Run away wid me." Spot repeated.

"I-" I grasped for words, "What do you mean?"

Spot's jaw clenched a little, as if he was thinking hard, "Yours fadder will look fo' you, right? Da only way ta be togedder (together) is ya run away. I'se know it sounds a little extreme, but dats what I do best!"

I cupped his cheek in the palm of my hand, "Spot..." I whispered, "I can't. What about Emmie- I mean Ralph? Or- or your Brooklyn newsies?!"

"But da strike ended! Dey'll (They'll) be fine. Dey knew I wasn't gonna be dere leader foreva! An- an we can take Emmie wid us. We'll be like a family. A real family, Y/n."

Tears pricked at the edges of my eyes. He really wanted this. And it did sound wonderful. "But if I run away," I said, "Then father might jack the prices back up again. I couldn't do that to the rest of the newsies. And with Emmie's injuries, it would be hard to get him out of the house. I love the idea Spot, but it just wouldn't work."

Spot huffed, and was quiet for a bit. "I'se just really wanna be wid you."

"I wanna be with you too."

***

Spot and I sat on the Brooklyn lodging house roof until dawn, my head on his shoulder and his head on mine, watching the night sky.

Once the sun started rising though, I knew I had to get back home.

"Can yous come back tonight?" Spot asked, hands in his pockets as I brushed off my dress.

"Of course." I smiled and pecked him on the cheek.

I started towards the edge of the roof when I felt Spots hand grip onto my wrist.

I turned back to his guilty looking face, "Jus- can you tink 'bout my offer?" He asked.

I bit my lip, hesitating, "Sure."

***

I ran back to the Brooklyn lodging house as the sun was going down. I knew that father suspected something from the dirt stains on my dress this morning, but right now I didn't care. I just needed to see Spot. Today had been a troubling day.

"Spot!" I cried as I jumped to the roof. There he stood, turning when I called his name.

I ran into his arms, throwing him off balance with my unexpected weight. "Darlin'?" He asked, stumbling back, "What wrong?"

"Nothing." I said, "I just really missed you today."

"Why?" He said and I felt his chest reverberate with his chuckles.

I sighed heavily and sat down, "I'm so sorry that I didn't tell you this, but I didn't know myself. Kat just told me yesterday and I couldn't bring myself to tell you and-"

"Y/n." Spot said, sitting down next to me, "Just tell me."

I took in deep breath, "Alright, alright. Well, my father is marrying me off."

"Wha?!" Spot yelled out, "Why?!"

"He- He said I'm old enough and he needs someone to keep me in line. I tried to tell him that I'm too young, but it didn't work!"

"Well, now da only ting ta do is run away!" Spot said, "Come on, Y/n/n! Please."

I exhaled, before weighing my options. I could run away with Spot, and live out my life with him, but we would be leaving Emmie and the rest of his newsies. But Emmie is being taken care of and I'm sure he understands. Plus, he now has Les to watch over him. And Spot has been the leader of the Brooklyn newsie for quite some time. It may be time for someone else to step in. And we could always visit he rest of the newsies.

So, I said the only word that felt right coming out of my mouth, "Alright."

Hello everyone! I know that this is starting to sound like a 1800s romance movie, and I'm very sorry about that, but it is sent in 1898, so.... I'm trying to steer away from the romance movie, but I'm sorry if it's not working. Thanks for reading!

[nightlychaotic]

Enemies or Lovers

Marinette laughed as Dick hugged her from behind. “Dick, I have to get going. I have a lot of work to do today.”

“No time for a quick break?”

“Nope.”

“Not even for your fiancé?”

She gave a small groaning, leaning back into him, becoming a deadweight. “Fineeee. You get a half hour, then I really need to work on this commission.” He laughed, scooping her up.

“Jagged give you a last minute commission again?”

“As usual. Now no talk of work. If you want me to take a break we aren’t spending it talking about what needs to get done.”

“Alright I accept your terms.”

She laughed, leaning in and giving him a kiss. “You have tomorrow night off right?”

“I do.”

“Great.”

“What are you planning?” he asked, sitting down on the couch. She snuggled into him and smiled.

“You’ll see tomorrow now, won’t you.”

“I guess I will.”

She smiled, resting her head on his chest as he held her, gently running his fingers through her hair. She relaxed, eyes closing, slowly falling asleep. Dick smiled looking at her, pressing a fost kiss to the top of her head, reaching back to grab his book off the table behind the couch, reading as she slept in his lap.

They stayed there for a couple hours before Marinette slowly woke up with a small groan.

“Evening, sleeping beauty,” Dick greeted, with a small laugh.

“How long was I out?”

“Two hours give or take. Looks like you needed the sleep.”

She yawned, pushing herself up. “I did, but now I’m behind on where I was hoping to be.”

Dick leaned forward giving her a quick kiss. “You’ll be fine, love. I’ve seen you get more done with less time.”

She ran a hand through his hair, as she stood with a smile. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Always.”

She laughed lightly, as she made her way to her work room, giving Dick’s shoulder a light squeeze as she passed.

-------------

“Nightwing.”

“Lady Noire.”

She twirled her baton, holding at the ready to her side as she tilted her head looking at him. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Considering you just stole a priceless artifact, I’m not.”

“Shame. Well if you’ll excuse me I’ll be on my way,” she said, taking a few steps away.

“Not so fast,” he said “Can’t let you leave with that.”

She extended her baton, aiming to hit him in the chest, as he bent backwards causinghet to miss. He grabbed the staff, and pulled it towards him. She retracted the staff back into a baton as Nightwing crashed into her. Pinning her to the wall, she hissed softly glaring at him, as he looked her over trying to figure out where she stashed the artifact on her.

“Excuse you. As handsome as you are I’m taken, and not looking for an affair.”

“Yeah, so am I,” he muttered, as he came up empty on places she could have hidden it on her.

“Birdy’s got someone special waiting up for him?” she asked, smirking up at him.

“That is none of your business. Does kitty have someone to bail them out of jail?”

“That implies that you could actually get me in jail,” she said, before rearing her head back slightly and ramming it into his, getting him to let go of her, quick as a wink, she was slipping on top of the bulkhead she gave a small salute. “Better luck next time,” she taunted, before disappearing into the night.

-------------

Marinette led him up to the roof, hands over his eyes before pulling them away. “Ta-da!”

“A rooftop picnic?” he turned around, grinning. She nodded, beaming.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had one. I even made your favorite macarons for dessert.”

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Frequently.”

The two sat down on the blanket. Marinette unpacked the picnic basket she’d put together pulling out food and drinks. The two dug in, talking and laughing as they enjoyed being in the other's company.

She picked up a small piece of a cookie and flicked at Dick, laughing as it hit him in the cheek.

“Oh that’s how it is, is it?” he asked, flicking a piece back at her. The two laughed as their picnic devolved into a mini food fight. Marinette got up and scrambled away, Dick giving chase, catching her in his arms, pressing a kiss to her neck as she giggled, falling back into him. She twisted in his arms, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss.

-------------

“Let go of me,” she spat, ramming her elbow into him, twisting out of his grip. He grabbed at her, catching her hand grabbing onto the ring on her finger as she pulled away. A flash of light, blinded him for a half second as Lady Noire hissed, twisting around, eyes wide. “Give that back.”

“Marinette?” he breathed, taking a step back. She froze, eyes narrowing at him.

“You know me?” she asked, studying him. He didn’t say anything as he stared at her. She growled tackling him, pulling the ring out of his hand, slipping it back on. “Who are you?” she demanded. Nightwing stared at her, face heating up as she leaned forward, putting more pressure on him, leaning over and pulling off his mask.

She blinked, leaning back, scrambling off of him as she stared. “Dick? Oh no. No no no no. You have got to be kidding me. Of course. Of course this is just my luck,” she hissed as she started to pace back and forth.

“Mar-”

She shook her head, calling on her transformation, and ran, leaping off the roof and making her way back to her- their- apartment. Nope.

She got there and began throwing her things into a bag after transforming, rushing. She zipped her bags turning to find Nightwing, Dick, standing there, mask off, still suited up.

“Marinette.”

“Dick. You- don’t have to say anything. I’m leaving. I’ll be out of your hair now.”

“Why?”

“You hate me. I won’t make you marry me. Don’t worry,” she said, moving to go through the door. He didn't budge. Rather attempted to block more of the doorway.

“What if I don’t want that.”

“What?”

“I love you, Marinette. Tonight hasn’t changed that.”

“It hasn’t?”

He shook his head, taking the bags from her, putting them down and taking her hands in his.

“No. Am I upset, mad, and kicking myself? Yes. But I still love you. This is just something we’ll have to work through. I’m willing to try if you are.”

She stared at him. “You are?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. I thought about it after you left. If my dad can date a thief, I think I can too,” he said, giving her a soft grin.

She gave a small laugh, nodding, burrowing into him as tears suddenly started to fall. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Trees Are Stupid.

There are some things in life that people learn without ever having to experience them. For me, one of those things really should have been ‘do not sneak out of a second story bedroom window if you have a broken leg’.

In my defense, I’d never had any trouble with the window before. The peach tree in our neighbour’s backyard was broad and healthy and one of its thick, strong branches was within easy jumping distance from my room. I’d silently slid the window open, checked to be sure that I was in the poorly-disguised undercover policeman’s blind spot, and was halfway out before I realised that balancing on the sill might be a little difficult with my right foot and calf encased in plaster.

I gripped both sides of the window frame and balanced as well as I could on my left foot. I’d always been small for my age, looking closer to eleven than fourteen, so the jump wouldn’t require very much strength. The branch, barely visible in the fading light, seemed to wave in time to the gunfire and screaming wafting up from my parents’ movie downstairs.

I leapt, and smacked right into the branch. It was a jump I could normally make without thinking about it, but the broken leg had thrown me off; I smacked chest-first into solid wood and instinctively wrapped my arms around it to keep from falling. The pain rushed through my ribs all the way to my spine, then faded, lingering for an extra moment in the little scar just to the left of my breastbone that I always tried to ignore. Not that I’d be able to ignore it any more, after the accident.

No, not accident. After the attack.

The back porch light was on. Most people would take this to be an accident, but I knew it was my parents’ plausibly deniable polite concession to the undercover police officers we were all pretending not to notice. They needed a clear view of the back door to make sure I was staying in the house like a good little boy. The light clearly illuminated the word WITCH that somebody had spraypainted across the back of our house, but it didn’t reach me in the tree. After a few seconds of stillness in which I waited for someone to move or shout, I felt it was safe to continue.

Arms and knees around the branch, I slid along it over the fence bordering our yard and towards the trunk of the tree. Our neighbours were still awake; light was visible around the kitchen blinds. This wasn’t unusual. It wasn’t all that late.

Normally I’d just drop to the ground and go ring the doorbell, but there was the issue of the police. Something else gave me pause, too; the small wreath of holly and mistletoe hung on the back door. That hurt more than hitting the branch had. Contrary to myth, neither holly nor mistletoe had ever stopped me from entering a building – I wouldn’t be able to enter most shops or cafes if it did – but the Nebits weren’t to know that. They’d always made a point of not warding their doors, and the fact that they’d done so now… well. I couldn’t really blame them, could I?

I switched to another branch, one stretching towards the Nebits’ house. The window I was aiming for wasn’t all that far from my own; it seemed like an awful lot of work to reach it by treeclimbing. If we’d been on the ground floor, I’d almost be able to reach it from my own window.

I couldn’t quite reach it from the tree, though. Again, this was a jump I’d made dozens of times, but it had been hard enough jumping into the tree with a broken leg; even I wasn’t going to try to jump out of a tree at a closed window when I couldn’t even safely stand up. I could envision the result – me slamming face-first into the wall below the window, and the Nebits coming to investigate the noise and finding a broken, bleeding body under their peach tree. Not an ideal situation.

Instead, I plucked a peach from the tree and threw it at the window. A moment later, it opened.

Melissa was sihlouetted in her bedroom light, so I couldn’t see much more than the halo of brown hair she was in the process of brushing, but I knew she was glaring at me. Melissa has the kind of glare you can feel through lead walls. When she grows up and has kids, they’re going to be the most well-behaved children in the world.

“Kayden, what the hell?”

“Are you going to let me in or not?”

“You shouldn’t be here! You’re under house arrest!”

“I know, that’s why I’m in a tree. But it is Saturday.”

Apparently, Melissa couldn’t argue with this logic. She fetched the usual climbing rope from her closet and tossed one end to me. I tied it to the tree, slid my way over to the window, and climbed in.

“Are you alright?” Melissa asked, checking over my arms for scratches and bruises. I didn’t pull away; Melissa gets focused when she’s worried, and it’s generally best not to get in her way. There were dark shadows under her eyes, I noticed, and her normally rosy, freckled cheeks were pale; had she lost sleep over me?

I shrugged. “They discharged me, so nothing can be too wrong with me. It’s not the first fall I’ve taken.”

“You know what I meant.”

I shrugged again.

“We tried to visit you, you know. They had you in some kind of high security ward and Chelsea almost got caught trying to pickpocket a nurse’s keycard.”

I suppressed a chuckle. “Of course she did. She’s not here yet?”

“She was grounded after the keycard thing, so I don’t think she’ll be able to convince her mum to – ”

Just then, Melissa’s bedroom door opened. “Don’t tell my mum I’m here,” Chelsea said quietly. “I’m grounded.”

Melissa threw up her arms. “Did anyone in this neighbourhood not sneak out of their bedroom window today?”

“Um, you didn’t,” I pointed out.

“Neither did I,” Chelsea said. “I’m not an idiot. I used our bathroom window. First floor.”

“Well la-de-da, Miss Police-Aren’t-Watching-My-House,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Kayden, did you climb a tree in your pyjamas?” Chelsea asked.

I glanced down at myself. “Maybe.”

“You’ve lost a button.”

Chelsea, unlike Melissa and I, was not in her pyjamas. She was wearing a flannel shirt that I was pretty sure was mine. Despite being a year younger than me, we were exactly the same size, and more than once she’d joked about getting me a jaw-length blonde wig and herself a shorter brown one to see how long we could pretend to be each other before someone noticed. Said jokes were getting worryingly serious.

“It’s your turn to hide the tracker,” Chelsea reminded me.

Melissa glared at her. “That stupid tracker game created this mess, and you still expect him to play?” she snapped.

“That’s pretty insensitive, Chel,” I agreed. “Especially since I’ve already hidden it. You think the school roof was a clever hiding spot? Oh, man. You are in for a wake-up call.”

She frowned. “You’re bluffing,” she said. “You haven’t had a chance to hide anything. They took you straight home from the hospi – ” She put her face in her hands and groaned. “You found the tracker before you ended up in hospital. You had it with you. And the only other places you’ve been are your house, and a high security ward in the hospital. And you know better than to hide it in your house.”

I spread my hands. “Hey, the circumstances aren’t my fault. If you want to find it, might I suggest stealing a nurse’s keycard? Oh wait.”

“You’re both crazy,” Melissa said.

“That’s a weird way to pronounce ‘incredibly awesome’,” Chelsea said. “When does the cast come off?”

“In another week and a half.”

“Just in time for school holidays!”

“I’m suspended anyway, so it’s kind of a moot point.”

We fell silent. None of us wanted to talk about the next obvious point of conversation.

Eventually, Melissa asked, “What about after the school holidays?”

I shrugged. “They haven’t set a date for the trial or anything yet, so…”

“So you’ll probably get a super long holiday before you’re found innocent and everything goes back to normal!” Chelsea threw an arm over my shoulders. “I’m so jealous.”

I shrugged her off. “I’m not innocent. My victim – ”

“Victim!” Chelsea scoffed. “You know this is Matt Parker you’re talking about, right? If I’d been up there I’d have pushed him off myself, curse or no curse.”

“You’re innocent,” Melissa said. “You know the law. Accidental consequences of curses can’t be prosecuted, unless the carrier of the curse was knowledgably negligent.”

“Fourteen-year-olds shouldn’t use words like ‘negligent’,” Chelsea frowned. “You sound like my dad.”

Melissa ignored her. “You’ve had that curse stuck in your heart since before you could walk, and nobody could ever say you were negligent. It’s done absolutely nothing for fourteen years. No causing sickness, no turning things to gold, it doesn’t even sour milk. There was absolutely no way you could have predicted it to lash out here.”

“That’s the point,” I said. “I should have expected it to lash out, because I should always be expecting it to lash out. My control slipped, and now everyone knows I put that jerk in hospital. He nearly died, you know. I nearly killed him.”

“Your curse nearly killed him,” Melissa corrected.

“I would have nearly killed him if I got the chance,” Chelsea shrugged. “Don’t even need a curse. I would’ve just hit him.”

“Everyone knows that Matt’s injuries are more self-inflicted than anything,” Melissa added. “Nobody blames you for any of this.”

“Then why is there a wreath on your door?” I asked.

Melissa looked away. “My parents are idiots.”

“No, your parents are scared, and they’re right. Your family have known about my curse since I got it. Your parents never had a problem with it, or with me, until now. But now they finally see what it means, what it can do, and they want nothing to do with me. They think I could hurt you, and they’re right. I could kill both of you without warning. Doesn’t that bother you?”

The two girls stared at me, completely unimpressed. Chelsea rolled her eyes.

“Why would that bother us?” Melissa asked. “It’s not exactly new information.”

“You’ve always known about the curse, but now that it’s active and – ”

Melissa waved me silent. “Not the curse. I mean in general. We’re all capable of killing each other if we want. You don’t need a curse for that. Five minutes ago I threw you a rope to climb in my window; I could’ve untied my end and you could very easily have died. Does that bother you?”

“That’s different.”

“No, it isn’t. I’m not saying your curse doesn’t suck, I’m just saying it doesn’t make you a terrifying monster, and anybody who looks at you differently now that it’s attacked Matt is an idiot for not taking it seriously and getting over it years ago.”

“That’s easy for us to say,” Chelsea said, “but to be fair, people have been kind of freaking out. Your family and mine were the only ones around here who ever really knew about the curse. To everyone else, it kind of…” she shrugged.

“Looks like I lied to them about something really dangerous I was carrying around the neighbourhood?” I asked.

“… Kind of, yeah. But they’ll get over it.”

“What’s the internet look like? The police confiscated my phone and I haven’t been online since the whole thing happened.”

The girls exchanged a worried glance.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Mum turned our wi-fi off. I don’t think she wants me to see what people are saying.”

“You don’t want to see what people are saying,” Melissa said quickly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Chelsea said. “If anyone gives you trouble, point at them and babble nonsense until they run screaming.”

“Yeah, because that would help his court case,” Melissa said.

“Nobody can give me any trouble. I’m not supposed to leave the house. Actually, I should probably get back before Mum and Dad notice I’m missing.”

“Righto. Liss, do you have some rope?” Chelsea headed for the window.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Stringing a rope from the tree to your window. Or did you have another plan for getting back in with that?” She nudged my cast with her toe. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She took a rope from Melissa, slipped easily out the window and within seconds was walking along the tree branch outside.

“I’ll never get how you two can do that,” Melissa remarked.

“It’s easy. It’s just one foot in front of the other. Until you slip and break a leg.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll stick to the ground like a normal person, thanks.”

“Sounds boring.”

Melissa chuckled and shoved me playfully. I grinned, trying to keep the mood light. Trying not to think about the future.

Whether I was found guilty of assault or not, I was dangerous, and now the whole street and the whole school knew it. There was no going back from that.

And I didn’t know what to do.

Story continues here.

[dontcare77ghj]

Soul

Steve x reader x Bucky x Tony

Set in the Parenting universe

Requested by @deansblackbeauty

Before a person was born, something happened to them in the between. Their soul would split and be shared with the person, or persons, who would be their other half. When those who shared a soul finally met, their eyes would glow a bright neon blue to symbolize their shared connection.

At least that was one way people rationalized soulmates. There were hundreds of other theories, but this was the one most chose to believe. Probably because it felt the most magical. 

At the end of the day, no-one really thought about why soulmates existed. All that mattered was that they did and that one day you would be able to meet the other part of your soul.

It was times like this that you missed your sister. Stakeouts were usually the dullest part of the job. You would be watching a target go about their daily lives or cheating on their partners or stealing company information, boring things like that.

Stakeouts were your second least favorite aspect of this job, beaten only by the actual murder of people.

Though, this stakeout was by far one of your better ones.

You'd been atop an abandoned building, watching as one of your hits was cheating on her wife. You had been laid on the roof when suddenly you sensed someone behind you.

Quickly, you rolled to the side, missing the bullet that would have hit you in the skull. Looking behind you, you saw the dark silhouette of a man with his gun raised at you.

The two of you had engaged in a shoot out before he ran towards you. The building you were on was incredibly old. To even sneak up there, you had to place yourself very carefully. So to have this man barreling towards you on this old roof was not a good idea.

The roof made a loud groaning sound before you were suddenly falling. Your hand grasped onto a sharp piece of metal, and you were jerked to a stop.

You were dangling above the ground, hand bleeding as you clutched the jagged metal roof, and you could hear the man coming towards you. 

After several tense seconds, suddenly, the man was standing above you, gun drawn.

Refusing to show fear in your final moments, you raised your head, and your eyes met his. 

And suddenly, his eyes glowed a bright neon blue.

You gasped at the implementation, and quickly you were being pulled up.

"Dusha." The man murmured once you stood safely before him. (Soul)

"Da, dusha. Ty moya dusha." You told him. (Yes, soul. You're my soul.) 

"Kak vas zovut?" He asked, pulling you away from the collapsing ceiling. (What's your name?)

"Romanova. Y/N Romanova. Chto tvoye?" (What's yours?)

"Aktiv." He told you. "YA aktiv." 

(Asset. I'm the asset.) 

You learned a lot that night on the roof. And in the four years that followed.

HYDRA came to collect Bucky ten minutes after you met him. Their first instinct was to kill you, but the second they raised their guns, Bucky shot them dead. 

All four of them.

And when another batch arrived and tried to take you away, he did the same thing. 

And that is when you learned the first thing about the asset.

The longer you were around the asset, the more he was in control. As it turns out, HYDRA was controlling your soul. In the years that would come, you would learn they had conditioned him to comply with a set of trigger words. Though you could never find out the words despite your years of espionage. 

But the longer you were around him, the more he was able to break out of it and remember things. 

Things like his name.

Eventually, Bucky's handler arrived and told him that they weren't going to kill you. That you could be brought back to the compound with him.

You agreed because at the time you thought you'd be able to be with Bucky, you were quickly proven wrong. 

You were allowed to see Bucky for two hours a day. This was the most time you could spend with him without him breaking his conditioning.

Your freedom was also stolen from you.

HYDRA ensured you spent the majority of your time in a small locked suite that was at the back of the compound. 

Out of sight, out of mind.

You had to admit, you had mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, you were aggravated that you were locked away from the outside world and your soul. But on the other hand, you weren't killing anyone. 

You'd never wanted to be an assassin, but it was all you knew. It was all you were good at. And now HYDRA had taken it, and any connection to the outside, from you.

"Bucky." You happily sighed as he entered your room. Getting up from your chair, you slowly moved to stand before him. "Kto ya?" You asked, holding a hand up to him.

(Who am I?)

"Dusha. Ty moya dusha." He said, raising his hand to yours. (Soul. You are my soul.)

"I kto ty takoy?" You asked, intertwining your fingers with his. (And who are you?)

"Vash. Vasha dusha." (Yours. Your soul.)

"Khoroshiy." You nodded. (Good.)

"U menya yest' novosti dlya tebya," Bucky said, moving you towards the small couch. "Menya otpravlyayut, i oni khotyat, chtoby vy poshli so mnoy."  (I have news for you. I'm being sent out, and they want you to come with me.)

"Zachem? Oni nikogda ne pozvolyali mne ran'she." You asked, looking him over. (Why? They've never let me before.)

"Dumayu, ya znal svoyu tsel'. Pered." He murmured to you, almost inaudibly. YA slyshal, kak okhrannik skazal, chto oni boyalis', chto ya slomayus'." (I think I knew my target. Before. I heard a guard say they worried I'd break.)

"Ty uveren, chto rech' shla o missii?" You asked, raising a brow at him. (You're sure it was about the mission?)

"Polozhitel'nyy." He nodded. (Positive.)

"YA ne iz tekh, kto smotrit darenomu konyu v zuby." You shrugged. "Po krayney mere, my budem provodit' bol'she vremeni vmeste. (I'm not one to look the gift horse in the mouth. At least we'll get more time together.)

"Oni khotyat, chtoby ty ubil, Y/N. Vam ne predostavlyayetsya vybor stoyat' v storone." Bucky told you. (They want you to kill, Y/N. You're not being given a choice to stand on the sidelines.)

"Buck, u menya ne bylo vybora s tekh por, kak ya vstretil tebya." You sighed. "YA uzhe privyk k etomu." (Buck, I haven't had a choice since I met you. I'm used to it at this point.)

"Proshu proshcheniya za vse eto," Bucky said, looking away from you. (I am sorry for all of this.)

Grabbing Bucky's chin, you forced him to look you in the eyes. You gave him a gentle smile before pressing your lips to his cheek.

"Ne bud'. YA by ni na chto ne promenyal s toboy svoye vremya. Ty moya dusha, i nichego ne mozhet etogo izmenit'. I ya etogo ne khochu." You told him firmly. (Don't be. I wouldn't trade my time with you for anything. You're my soul, and nothing can change that. And I don't want it to.)

"Moya dusha," Bucky said, putting his head in the crook of your neck. (My soul.)

"Da, dusha." (Yes, soul.)

For the remainder of your time together, the two of you stayed on that ratty couch. Not speaking, merely holding onto one another and embracing each other.

You should have known this wouldn't be easy. You should have known the universe wouldn't make this easy for either of you. 

The mission had failed.

You hadn't been able to kill your targets, either of them. In fact, the two of you had run.

The two of you had run from your targets to an abandoned building Bucky had found.

Bucky was asleep beside you, his form stiff and rigid, as you sat upright surveying the area. You couldn't sleep. Your mind wouldn't let you.

You couldn't stop thinking about what happened today. You couldn't stop thinking about when your eyes met.

You'd never had this many problems with a target. Or multiple targets. Perhaps you were out of practice, or before, you were simply so cocky about your abilities you were just showboating.

But Steve Rogers and Tony Stark were proving to be formidable targets.

You were facing off with Tony Stark, who was shooting at you from behind a pillar. 

"Why does everyone want to kill me?" You heard the man complain as you shot close to his head. 

The man shot a blast at you, which you dodged easily before flipping towards him. You pulled a dagger out of your thigh holster and slammed it into the pillar only to find Stark not there.

"Missed me!" Stark cheered from behind you. Spinning quickly, you threw another knife in Stark's direction for him to dodge. "Missed me again!"

You let out a loud growl as you raised your head and glared at the man. Stark's eyes met yours, and it happened.

His eyes glowed a bright, neon blue.

"Fuck." The two of you swore in unison.

Before you could process what was happening, Bucky rushed to your side and was pulling you away from the scene.

As the two of you were fleeing from the scene, you glanced over your shoulder. Steve had moved to stand beside a shell-shocked Tony and managed to catch your eye.

Bright, neon blue.

Bucky had dragged you away because he thought you were hurt. His protective instincts always shone through when he was freshly wiped.

HYDRA would be coming to take the two of you back to the base in a few hours, but you wouldn't put it past them to come and snatch you while you were sleeping. 

You had been admiring Bucky's sleeping form when you heard it. The quiet crunch of footsteps below you. 

Your gun was already in your hand as you slowly stood from your makeshift bed. You didn't make a sound as you left the room where Bucky slept and moved towards the noise.

It was on the ground floor you found the source of the noise.

You were grabbed from behind, an arm wrapping itself around your waist, the other around your mouth.

"It's okay, we just want to talk. We're not here to hurt you." A voice said soothingly as another man appeared in front of you. Yanking yourself out of his grasp, you stood in front of the two and shook your head.

"You shouldn't be here. It's not safe for you." You told them. "You need to go."

"We just want to talk," Steve said. "We need to talk."

"We tried to kill you, both of you, less than twelve hours ago. You're either incredibly stupid or entirely moronic." You said, crossing your arms and raising a brow at the two.

"Probably both," Tony muttered.

"The two of you need to go. We're being taken back to base in a couple hours, and the guards will kill you if they see you." You told the two.

"Not if no-one's here when they arrive." Steve countered, taking a step forward. "Come with us. You and Bucky-"

"How do you know his name?" You demanded of the blonde, grip tightening on your gun. 

"I knew him when we were young. He was the first part of my soul I found. He's a part of me, just like Tony, and just like you." Steve told you. "You know as well as we do what that glow meant. You're a part of our souls."

"We tried to kill you." You reminded him.

"Everyone has their own story on how they met their souls. At least ours is entertaining." Tony snorted.

"You know we can't come with you." 

"Why not?" Tony asked, moving to stand beside Steve. "We want you, both of you. We don't care about what you've done."

"You don't even know a tenth of what we've done." You scoffed. "We can't come with you because the two of you are good, good people. We're not. Buck's got an excuse, but me not so much. We can't come with you because my hands are dripping red, and Bucky's not even Bucky on most days."

"What does that mean?" Steve asked you. "What does any of that mean?"

"It means I'm a murderer. I've killed so many people because it's what I've been told. And Bucky, HYDRA has him so firmly under their control, I can barely break him out. Sometimes he's a man I recognize, and others, he has two capabilities. Obey and protect." You told them before letting out a long sigh. "We can't come with you because our souls would taint you."

"That's bullshit, and you know it," Steve said, moving towards you. "Everyone has done things they regret, fuck knows we have. You're not perfect, fine, neither are we, but we're yours. And you and Bucky, you're ours." He said, stopping right in front of you.

"We can help you, both of you. Get you out of HYDRA and away from them. You'd never have to kill again if that's what you want, and we can fix what HYDRA did to Bucky." Tony added. "You know everyone's got baggage."

"Not like this." You shook your head. 

"Probably true." Tony nodded. "But lucky for you, we're gentlemen and can always help with the bags." He said, causing you to let out a weak laugh.

"That was terrible." You shook your head.

"Not one of my best, but if you come with us, you'll get to hear better." Tony offered you.

"I never wanted to be HYDRA." You quietly admitted. "Before, I used to kill them if I ever came across them, and now I'm their prisoner. But even I know you don't just get out of HYDRA. Not alive, at least."

"Well, how would you and Bucky like to set a record?" Steve asked you. "Come with us, please."

Sucking in a deep breath, you looked between the two and gave them a firm nod. 

"Y/N Romanova." You introduced yourself. "If we're gonna do this, we've gotta be quick. And we have to wake up Bucky."

"Let's do it."

"Did you say Romanova?"

"And that's how I met your pops." You said to the young boy sat on your lap. 

“And then you met Daddy?” He asked, pushing his glasses up onto his nose. Smiling at the boy, you gently reached out and tapped his nose.

“And then we met Daddy.” You confirmed with a nod. “We got to adopt him and then your Daddy met your Mommy and they had you.”

“What was Daddy like as a kid?” Ben asked you as Peter entered with your three souls behind him. “Daddy!” Ben cheered, rushing towards his father.

“Baby!” Peter returned with the same amount of enthusiasm. Peter swung the boy into his arms as Bucky and Tony sat beside you and Steve came to stand behind you.

“How are you, honey?” Steve asked, leaning down to kiss your head.

“I’m good. I was just about to tell Ben all about when his Dad was a kid.” You said, smirking when Peter let out a loud groan.

“Come on, mom, no need to tell him old war stories.” He said, collapsing into a seat with Ben on his lap.

“There’s no need, but it’s fun to see you squirm.” Bucky smiled at him.

“Exactly!” Tony grinned, leaning into Bucky’s side. “Let me tell you about the time Daddy and Uncle Ned blew up my lab.”

This was the moment you wished to forever repeat. Your son and grandson at your side as well as your dushi. 

Your souls.

Remember all Taglists are open as are requests.

Taglist @rvgrsbrns @smilexcaptainx @hopingforbarnes @starlingelliot @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @jelly-fishy-babie @skeletoresinthebasement @agent-barnes40 @reann-loves-sebstan @skadikh @summergeezburr @buckybarton03 @sunshinepower17 @bindythedemon @natasharomanoffismywife @keenmarvellover @bbybarness @storiesbystarlight @buckybarnesplumwhore @bromieeeomieee @marvelmenarebeautiful @nikishadow @pauloonig @abyssiniapleasant @beautybyfire @officialmarvelbaby

[elvish-sky]

The Magic of Books and Peppermint {FilixModern!Reader}

Anon Request from Tumblr: Hello! And happy new year! I love your blog! (Especially the funny dialog posts! They really make my day when I read them!) If you're doing requests, can I ask for one between fili x fem!modern!human reader? Where Bain/Legolas is into her and makes obvious advances but Fili is in love with her too and gets super jealous so that's how the reader finds out he returns her feelings? If not that's cool too and I hope you have a great and wonderful new Year! :D

*To make the story work you are in one of those booths that has openings on either end. 

A.N: So I set this around this time of year just because I’m still hanging on to that holiday mindset so I hope that’s ok! Also, no, I am not addicted to peppermint drinks, why on earth would you think that? Anyways, thank you for the request lovely Anon! I’ve never written modern au before and I had a lot of fun with it. I hope you like it and that you are having a wonderful start to 2021!

Word Count: 2,398

Pairing: Fili x Fem!Modern!Human! Reader

Summary: Fili gets jealous of Bain’s attention towards you.

Warnings: Unwanted romantic advances, fluff, some angst, jealousy.

****

The Magic of Books and Peppermint

You slid into the coffee shop booth, peppermint mocha in hand, and, upon taking a sip, sighed in happiness. December was your favorite time of year, not just because you got to come home, but mainly because coffee shops sold peppermint flavored drinks. Sure, it was nice to see your family and get a break from college, but man, peppermint mochas were good. Kili, one of your best friends, laughed at you from the other side of the table, as his brother Fili tried to take the cup away from you with little success. You had known them since you were five, they had moved in next door with their uncle while their mom was away, and you had been best friends ever since. 

“Y/N,” Kili commented, “I honestly don’t think it's good to consume that much caffeine and sugar.” “What are you talking about?” you answered. “This is only my fourth drink of the day, and one of them was a peppermint hot cocoa!” Fili and Kili just shook their heads at you as the “Ding!” of the bell at the door announced the arrival of Legolas and Bain, completing your little group. Bain and Fili were older than you, Legolas, and Kili, but somehow the four of them had taken you into their group when you had become friends with Kili in seventh grade. Legolas swung a chair around to sit at the head of the booth, and Bain slid in next to you and slung his arm around your shoulders, prompting a glare from Fili which you missed. Bain had become increasingly touchy-feely every time you returned home from college, and you were unsure why. You figured it was probably just because he missed you, but you never saw him act the same with Fili, who was a year ahead of you at the same out-of-state college. 

“Bain, Legolas, tell Y/N she drinks too much sugar,” Kili demanded. “Why?” Legolas wanted to know. “It’s eleven in the morning, she can’t have had too much already.” “This is her fourth drink today!” Fili exclaimed, looking exasperated. “That’s it, Y/N,” Legolas snatched your cup out of your hand and slid it across the table to Kili, who chugged it with a smug look on his face. “You’re going to join me in a sugar-free lifestyle.” You sighed. Legolas had been sugar-free since your freshman year of high school, as he wanted to stay fit for sports. It had paid off, he had gotten a full scholarship for gymnastics, but you sometimes thought he went a little overboard. Kili had also gone to college on an athletic scholarship, for basketball, but as evidenced by the fact that he had just chugged your entire mocha, he was not on any sort of health kick, nor had he ever been. “I will consider going sugar-free after New Year’s,” you told Legolas. “But after New Year’s we all go away again and I won’t be able to keep tabs on you!” he exclaimed. “That’s exactly the point, Legolas,” you leaned back with a smug look on your face. “Well, I don’t think Y/N needs to do anything of the sort,” Bain interjected, “She’s gorgeous as is!” A tad uncomfortable at this statement, you shrugged out from under his arm, missing the disappointed look on his face, but noticing the slightly triumphant look on Fili’s, as you did so. 

After you had finished your sandwich, you announced, “Well, I’m gonna head over to the bookstore,” as you slid out of the booth. “I’ll walk you down there,” Bain said, sliding out of the other end. “I have to stop at the hardware store down the street anyway. Da wants me to carve Tilda a slingshot, and my pocketknife is dull.” Making your way towards the door, you heard a muffled thump and turned around to see Bain sprawled on the floor next to your booth. “What happened?” you gasped as Legolas helped him up. “I have no idea,” he answered, shaking his head while walking towards you across the linoleum. “Let’s get going.” You didn’t hear Kili whisper “I know you tripped him,” to his brother as you left.

Bain had left you at the bookstore with a promise to come back once he was done with his errands. As you entered the store, you heard the jingle of the little bell and breathed in the air. Kili had always made fun of you for your love of the way bookstores smelled, but to you, there wasn’t anything better. You wound your way through the tall shelves bursting with novels until you got to the YA section. Grabbing a random title off the shelves, you collapsed into the beanbag in your favorite nook of the store with a sigh and became engrossed. You were pulled out of your reverie sometime later by the sight of a head peeking around the corner of the shelf in front of you. 

“Fili!” you beamed as you jumped up from the chair. “You never come to the bookstore!” “I go to the bookstore all the time, Y/N. You just don’t see me.” He countered with a grin. “I’m at either this store or the one near campus all the time, so when could you possibly be here if I didn’t see you!” you questioned with a skeptical look on your face. “I’m an English major, I help out at the bookstore on campus a lot, and Uncle Thorin’s friend Balin owns this place. I can get into any of them any time I want!” “I can’t be your friend anymore.” you dramatically stated as you fell back into the beanbag. “You have unlimited access to two bookstores AND YOU’VE NEVER SNUCK ME IN?!?!?!?” This shout was met with a shushing noise from Balin who was arranging the shelves nearby. Chastened, you glanced back up at Fili only to see a glare on his face. You followed his gaze to the end of the aisle and saw Bain walking towards you. “What’s up, Y/N?” he reached you and yet again slung his arm around your shoulders, drawing you close to him. “You finished or should we stick around until you’re done with that book?” He gestured to the open paperback on the chair. “Nah, let's go up to the counter and I’ll buy it.” And with that, you made your way to the counter and paid. Laughing with Bain, you exited the store with Fili trailing behind you, looking rather angry. 

You made your way down the street only to be ambushed by a snowball to the head from a giggling Legolas, who had somehow perched himself on top of the lamppost and was now scooping more snow off of it to use as a projectile. Kili, who was balanced on the roof of the building next to you, dumped a bunch of snow onto Fili’s head, who, spluttering, yelled up at him, “I know you have your crazy ways of getting up there, but Mum’s gonna kill you if she sees you on top of another building!” Kili ignored him, and so Fili hit him in the face with a well-aimed snowball. Bain had pushed you down and was attempting to protect you from Legolas to no avail, as the blond was now swinging around the lamppost like a monkey, firing off snowballs at random. “Legolas, how did you get so much snow up there?” you queried while cowering from the onslaught. In response, he pointed to his coat, which was full of snow and tied to the lamppost so that he could reach it. “Movable ammo, Y/N!” he declared. Meanwhile, Fili had attacked Bain when he saw him protecting you and was now in the process of shoving snow down the back of his jacket while Bain squirmed as the cold hit his back. Fili let go and backed away, looking immensely pleased with himself. Kili clambered down from the roof as Legolas swung from the lamppost, did a flip, and stuck the landing, all while firing off two more snowballs to hit the brothers. He slung an arm over Kili and Bain’s shoulders and they set off down the road, with the sound of Legolas’ voice trailing behind them. “What’re we having for dinner, Kili? I hope your mom made something good!”

You trailed behind them next to Fili, who still looked like something was wrong. You were a little worried about him, and especially about the way, he was acting with Bain lately. Making up your mind, you blurted, “Hey, Fili. Can I ask you something?” He nodded, and you continued, stomping your boots on the icy ground as you spoke. “You’ve been a little off ever since we came home,” you continued. “Especially with Bain, you seem a little bit mean, if I’m being honest, and I want to make sure everything’s ok and nothing happened with you guys.” “Nothing’s happened with us. We’re still all good, and I’m really happy for the two of you.” As he said this you were focused on his eyes, which seemed to hold depths of sadness, and his smile, which seemed very forced. You studied them, and then stopped walking as the implication of what he had said sank in. 

“Happy for us? Why would you be happy for us?” “Because you’re together,” “What?!” you exclaimed. “I’m not..we’re not…” you trailed off as your head spun, everything finally making sense. “Wait,” you grabbed Fili’s hand and pulled him closer to you, “you’ve been jealous!” He shuffled his feet on the ice, eyes stubbornly fixed on his boots. “I was not jealous! What do I have to be jealous over, anyway! It’s not like you and I are…” his voice dwindled as he purposefully avoided your eyes. “But we could be.” You grabbed his hand, and twined your fingers with his, hoping it would send the message you wanted. He stiffened at first but then relaxed. “Would you like to be?” he asked, looking like he regretted speaking the second he did so. “Yes, Fili. I very much would.” 

“So, nothing is going on with you and Bain?” he asked as you started walking, hands swinging in between your bodies. You laughed at him, “No! Bain’s like a brother to me, the same as Kili or Legolas!” “Ok,” he blushed. “Just thought I’d clear that up before I did something else stupid.” Hand in hand, you followed behind your friends, looking forward to an excellent dinner when you arrived at Fili and Kili’s house.

Later that night, after your family had joined Thranduil, Legolas’s dad, and his husband Bard, who was Bain’s father, at Fili and Kili’s house for a delicious New Year’s Eve dinner, you lay in your bed mulling over your day. You had talked to Bain after dinner, just to let him know that you were now taken. It had been awkward, but you were proud that you had both handled it well. You just hoped things would go back to normal between the two of you soon, and that the fact that you were now dating Fili wouldn’t sting too much. 

You were startled by a tapping on your window, and, rising from the pillows, opened it to see Kili, Legolas, and Bain standing below. “What are you guys doing?” you hissed from the second floor. “Just get dressed and climb down!” Legolas whisper-yelled back up to you. Sighing at the fact that whatever they had planned meant that you wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night, you threw on leggings, a hoodie, a flannel, and your beanie, wanting to be warm, and then shimmied out of your window, dropping smoothly to the ground and somersaulting to break your fall. “Wow, Y/N, I didn’t know you could do that!” Bain effused as you set off. “I’ve spent too much time around Legolas to not be able to somersault,” you shook your head as you remembered the many times that that skill had gotten you into, or out of trouble. “Where are we going?” you asked. “And where’s Fili?” “You’ll see when we get there,” Kili answered with a smug grin. You rolled your eyes at his vagueness and quickened your pace to keep up. 

After about fifteen minutes, Kili halted in front of the bookstore, gesturing for you to open the door. “It’s closed, Kee! I can’t break in!” “Just trust us, Y/N” Legolas whispered. Sure this was just going to end in you tugging on a locked door while the three of them laughed, you yanked the handle, surprised when the door opened. You stepped inside, hearing the soft tinkle of the bell as the door swung closed behind you. You turned around to see the three faces of your friends pressed up against the glass, and Kili gestured for you to keep going. You saw a faint light at the back of the store and wound through the shelves until you reached your favorite little nook. You gasped at what you saw arrayed in front of you as you rounded the corner.

Fili was standing there with a bashful grin. “You were mad I’ve never snuck you into a bookstore before.” He motioned for you to sit down and so you sank into the beanbag next to him, a look of shock on your face as he handed you a mug. “What’s this?” you took a sip and sighed with delight. “Peppermint hot chocolate!” Fili smiled at your blissful expression “I figured we could just stay here tonight, maybe read to each other.” You blushed at his thoughtfulness in knowing that this would be your perfect first date. There was nothing more magical than books and a peppermint drink. “That sounds wonderful, Fee. Thank you.” You snuggled up close to him with your hot cocoa warming your hands, his arm wrapped around you as he began reading. You recognized the first sentence as the beginning of your favorite book when you were little, and you contentedly rested your head on his chest as his voice rose and fell with the story. “I love you, Fili,” you murmured. “I love you too, Y/N.” He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead and continued to read as you sighed in content, knowing there was no place you would rather be. 

Everything tag💗: @entishramblings @boyruins @itgetsatadhazy @anjhope1

[pollylynn]

Hendecagon—A Caskett One-Shot Set post–"After the Storm" (5 x 01)

Title: Hendecagon WC: 1200 A/N: Set in the summer just after “After the Storm” (5 x 01)

The sun is not quite up. It is an unseasonably cool fifty-six degrees. She is swearing at tomatoes.

“You’re not tomatoes,” she grumbles. She plumps herself down next to the fabric container and immediately regrets it. The whole of the rooftop is damp with the dithering mist that has wrapped itself around the city for the last five days. And now her pajama bottoms are damp with dithering mist. “You’re a failure.”

The last comment might be directed to the tomatoes. It might directed at herself. It’s probably directed at both, and it’s definitely ridiculous. The tomatoes will be tomatoes in their own good time—provided the dithering mist packs up and leaves town and late July remembers what late July is supposed to look like—and tomato failure to launch hardly makes her a failure. She has just failed at this particular thing.

Which she really had wanted not to fail at.

That’s ridiculous, too. It’s a just a silly thing she’d wanted to do, and no one but her even knows about it. It’s a failure that could simply disappear into the damned mist if she simply slunk back down to the loft and found a suitable hiding place for the tell-tale pajama pants. Instead, the bare soles of her feet and her entire backside are quickly going numb with cold. The rest of her skin is goose-pimpled and tinged with blue, and she can feel her hair taking on moisture, taking on a Medusa-rivaling life of its own.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” she tells the hard, treacherously green little fruits. “Tomatoes, because . . . tomatoes.” She wiggles the body part in question for emphasis. She tries to wiggle them, but the window for toe mobility seems to have closed some time ago. “Eleven. You need toes for eleven.”

She clonks her head down on her drawn-up knees. Saying it out loud—saying it to failure tomatoes—sounds . . . well, stupid doesn’t begin to cover it. But she wanted to do for him what he has done for her so often over these last nine, ten, eleven weeks.

He has invented celebrations without number. If she wanted to tick off each and everyone, not only would she need his and her collective fingers and toes, she’d have to recruit passers-by on the street and borrow theirs. He invents anniversaries and fabricates holidays. He commemorates everything with silly, touching little mementoes and comically reverent ceremonies.

The very tiny rooftop garden she finds herself sitting in the center of is just one example of truly far too many to count. The end of week one he had materialized from the bedroom in denim overalls—actual overalls—and solemnly presented her with a trowel tied up in a fat green bow. He’d taken her hand and dragged her up to the roof, which was no small task given how weak with laughter she’d been. He’d covered her eyes with his hands at the very last second, then pulled them away.

Ta da.

He’d meant it as a flourish, but the gesture had a decided hint of shyness in it. Damp and disheartened as she is by the dithering mist and everything, her stomach still does a little butterfly flip thinking about how thrilling, yet tentative everything was in the early days before they needed toes to count their weeks together. It does a little butterfly flip thinking how wonderfully mundane so many things are between them now.

It’s the call of the wild, he’d explained, building steam as his grin fed off her own. We’ll hear their cries. We’ll have no choice but to tend them. It’s sad but true, Beckett, but we’ll have to leave the bedroom at some point . . .

She’d nearly had to stab him with the trowel for that, for the way an over-the-top, lascivious waggle of his eyebrows could make her blush. But he’d side-stepped the jab. He’d wrapped one arm tight around her and led her proudly from one tiny seedling to the next, each of one of them drowning in what seemed to be a sea of potting soil.

He’d talked about them all like children. He’d given each little green sprout a name, and she swears she changes them every time. She’d swear that the stubborn members of the nightshade family she’s seriously considering chucking right off the roof did not start out as Chaz, but Chaz is who they are this week—week 11, when she’d wanted to one simple, silly thing.

She’d wanted, just this once, to glide into the bedroom with the breakfast-in-bed tray bearing the perfect tomato-and-feta omelet. She’d wanted, just this once, to make him puzzle out what they were celebrating—why that celebration had to involve these, the tomatoes they’ve watered and whispered to and sat watching on warm summer evenings as though something might befall their green offspring army the second their backs were turned. But Chaz is a traitor.

“You’re all traitors,” she grumbles once more, kicking out with numb toes that definitely get the worse end of the deal when they connect with the heavy, soil-filled bag.

The move shifts her point of view. Or maybe it just shifts the thick, leafy arms of Chaz enough that she she’s able to see the flash of red beyond.

She’s on her knees with cat-like quickness. She faintly registers the unpleasant sensation of wet knees, of palms that are immediately freezing, but it’s all secondary. She’s weaving her way in between cucumber vines climbing upward and the alarming profusion of mint they’re really going to have to do something about. It’s Gavin—the lipstick pepper she’s pretty sure he originally named Lanie—and shyly peeping from between the long, slender leaves, is a mystical object: a single pepper, long, emerald, and healthy, save for a smile of blazing red.

She holds her breath as she eases her fingers beneath it. The stem yields immediately under her touch and the lovely weight of the fruit drops into her palm.

“Hello, gorgeous,” she breathes. She’s suspended there a moment, with the dithering mist clinging to her hair. Every inch of her is cold and wet, but she feels the warmth of seventy-seven suns in this Son or Daughter or Whatever of Gavin, this perfect, oddly shaped thing that the two of them have brought into the world. She forgets the mist and everything for a moment.

But the next moment, her stomach does a butterfly flip. It has her popping to her feet and racing for the propped open door.

She doesn’t know what an unexpected July sweet pepper has to do with eleven weeks or with anything else. But she’ll figure it out. She’ll make it up—some outlandish connection that he’ll scoff at, because every one of his outlandish connections is a million times better.

He’ll scoff, but his smile will go soft. He’ll sink back into the pillows and stretch with the satisfaction of it—of knowing that every second, they have something to celebrate. That’s how it always goes for her. That’s how it’ll go for him.

That’s how.

A/N: So I walked outside today, in celebration of the fact that the temperature was livable. Walk means no dreadmill or gym, and so no episode. But self, I thought, we should write a little drabble-y thing—NBD, just two hundred words. Maybe two-fifty. Because we don’t want to be up until 5 AM like the last week or so. Um. Yeah. So that all worked out.

[inkribbon796]

What a Beautiful Wedding Ch. 1: A Sense of Poise and Rationality

Summary: “What a beautiful wedding” says a bridesmaid to a waiter. “And, yes, but what a shame. What a shame . . . 

Nothing bad happens here, I promise.

A/N: The music swells, the curtain lifts. Ladies, gentlemen, and all configurations of being: the show has begun . . .

Titles here are from Panic! at the Disco’s “I Write Sins not Tragedies”.

Okay, so this one’s been a bear to write so this might be uploaded a couple chapters today and the rest over the next day or two.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Eric looked at himself in the mirror as Roman set the final touches on his hair. His dark hair had small braids with tiny beads designed to catch the sunlight. His suit was an off-white color and his wrists were decorated with intricate bangles that kept his nerves from activating his powers and setting things on fire.

Despite the suits and dresses and other formal attire all the heroes were still in their masks. Secrecy was still important and they knew the press would be nearby. The only exception would be Eric, who got glasses enchanted, courtesy of the Host, to protect his identity from anyone who shouldn’t know it.

“And voila!” Roman announced and did a little excited jump, spinning the chair marginally and holding up a mirror so that Eric could see the back of his head.

“Awww, you look so cute,” Patton told him.

“R-eally?” Eric ducked his head nervously.

“Positively radiant, my dear,” Roman boasted, his red dress swishing as he twirled. “Not an eye will be able to look away from you.”

Eric’s eyes widened fearfully.

“Nice going Princey,” Virgil spoke up from across the room.

“They’ll look in a good way,” Roman promised. “They’ll see you and realize that you are the most beautiful man in the world.”

“B-ut that’s Illy,” Eric managed to force out.

Roman paused to think on that, “Well I won’t deny that he’s obnoxiously good looking but now you can give him a run for his money.”

Randall walked in, “How we lookin’[1]?”

Twisting around the chair, Roman grinned as he motioned to Eric. “Marvel at this masterpiece. I dare say Da Vinci nor Monet could have done better.”

“Very handsome,” Randall told Eric, both childhood friends smiling at each other. “Just came from checkin’ on the other groom. We’re just waiting fer a final sweep ‘a the area to make sure it’s alright.”[2]

“Alright,” Eric said.

On the other side of the building, Illinois was fiddling with his bow tie as he checked his hair and suit in the mirror.

“How’s it looking?” Illinois asked, his eyes moving to look at his adopted brother in the mirror.

“Nothing is amiss,” the Host told him.

“Marv still isn’t back,” Chase reminded. “I don’t like it. I haven’t heard a peep from him.”

“The Host spoke with Marvin, he is on his way back to the city with the Blade and the Angel of Death,” the Host took a seat. “While they will be late for the ceremony, Illinois and the attendants will find that they will arrive just in time.”

“Okay,” Illinois took a deep breath. He didn’t touch his lucky coin, he wanted today to be a good day. A perfect day.

He’d been trying to play his safe for months to hoard as much magic as possible. No adventures. No fights. Not even a card game with his siblings.

Because Eric deserved nice things. He deserved to be happy and safe.

After a while Dark checked his pocket watch, and Illinois walked out with him and the Host. The blind seer headed on ahead to wait with the other groomsmen.

Dark waited at one end of a long rug that led to a big outdoor gazebo with a dark wood roof. Chairs led up to the gazebo and had wooden structures protecting it from any accidental rain or glare from the sun. A matching rug was one that Randall would lead Eric down. The two grooms would meet in the middle and then walk up to the altar where Jackie, who had taken the online classes needed to officiate marriages.

The Entity paused, waiting for the signal from the organ that Dark could start walking. But he looked over at Illinois. The young man was looking around, his hand reaching into his pocket and resisted trying to pull out his lucky coin.

In the demon’s mind he thought of little Illinois, barely at chest level, with wide eyes that hungered for adventure but a body too small to take him there.

Dark had never liked thinking about how big Illinois had gotten. It reminded him that Illinois would walk out of his life and become his own person. It’s just . . . it had all been so wonderful while it lasted.

Illinois looked over at Dark and smiled. “Hey, 아빠[3].”

“Illinois,” Dark answered, trying to keep Damien quiet and invisible. Dark had to keep his hands to himself and his feelings out of the way. This was all for Illinois. He took a second to take a deep breath and schooled his features. “I’ll have your portion of the city ready for when you get back.”

“What?” Illinois asked, mostly in confusion.

But then the music began and Dark was offering his elbow. Illinois took it and promised himself that when he could pull Dark away again they’d talk. He didn’t like the tone Dark had taken when he’d said that.

Illinois and Dark stepped in time to the music and all too soon he saw Eric, his hands gripping onto Randall’s arm. He almost tripped when his eyes met Illinois’s.

Then all too soon, they were within arms reach. Illinois reached out to take Eric’s arm and they walked up. To Illinois, Eric looked like an angel he’d somehow snagged out of the sky and convinced to stay with him.

They walked down the aisle and Illinois kept the pace slow so that Eric wouldn’t have a single problem walking down the aisle. Dark and Randall followed them up.

Everything was going perfectly.

Illinois and Eric were looking at each other and Jackie opened his mouth to start the ceremony, when someone else walked down the aisle.

“I’m here!” Someone in a red tux announced. A smile as sharp as glass. “Shame on you, Damien, I almost missed the whole thing.”

Everyone immediately looked at the Actor, Dark got in front of Illinois as the young man was trying to push Eric towards Jackie.

“Get out,” Dark snarled in a furious growl.

“You’d done your job, step aside,” Actor snapped out a dark mass of aura and batted Dark to the side, the Entity slamming into the organ and let out a pained cough.

“아빠!”[3] Illinois called out. Yancy, who was closer, immediately raced to Dark’s side but the Entity shoved him away from both him and the Actor.

“I will admit,” Marc smiled as he waltzed down the aisle, “I didn’t recognize you at first. That’s my bad. But I did try and talk to you, and it’s quite an oversight not to personally invite me.”

Dark pushed himself back up to a kneeling position, his ringing shrill and aura coiling around.

“I didn’t invite you because you’re a piece of shit and you just attacked my dad, so fuck off,” Illinois snarled. He started trying to move over to Dark but the Actor slid into his path.

“Not possible,” Actor smiled, gesturing to himself. “Daddy’s here now and we don’t need . . .”

Actor glared back at Dark, “. . . to be worried about extraneous characters.”

“Get the hell out of here, I don’t want you anywhere near my family,” Illinois snarled.

“Oh, junior,” Marc smiled. “I’m trying to help you. Think of it: father and son. We’d take the world by storm.”

Illinois felt fury, thinking off all the foster homes and awful situations he’d been in, “Even if you were, you can fuck right the fuck off!”

Behind the Actor, Ranboo was trying to inch closer to Dark. He’d been sitting with the rest of the heroes. But he was trying to quietly summon up a portal to get Dark away from the Actor but when he inched too close the Actor spun around and slammed his aura into the young teen, knocking him back.

“If I wanted to take on the peanut gallery, I would have called you up,” Actor snapped.

“Enderwalk!” Virgil called out and raced over to him as the teen slammed against the wall of the gazebo and let out a grunt of pain. Immediately the room seemed to snap out of whatever haze they were in and moved as Marc moved to attack Ranboo again. Tubbo was already the closest.

Ranboo braced for the attack to hit but in the nick of time, there was a shattering of glass and Techno emerged from one of the eye portals. Shield and axe in hand he deflected the shot and blew a hole in the roof of the gazebo.

“I’m gonna have to stop you right there,” Techno smiled. “Come on, kid, I saw you using a weapon before, come on.”

“Boo,” Tubbo moved in as Phil and Marvin raced in.

“Anyone dead yet?” Marvin demanded.

“Bout time yeh showed up,”[4] Chase spat, pulled out his gun, a real one and aimed it at the Actor’s head.

Snarling in anger, the Actor exploded into black mist, making Chase miss his shot and nicked Illinois right in the face by accident.

Actor grabbed Dark and stabbed him with a dragged he pulled out of his black mist. “I don’t like being teased, Dames.”

With a slice, Dark screamed and the Actor pulled out a black day planner. “If you want something done right you should just do it yourself.”

Magic began to swirl around the Actor as bubbles began to form. They swelled in size and began to fill the room.

Bing began to visibly freak out and used his nanites to push Mini and Oliver away with his nanites, throwing them outside the gazebo just as a bubble expanded to snap up the rest of the androids.

In an instant the city rumbled and Dark . . .

. . . . . .

Dark woke up in bed.

He glared at the faintly glowing clock on the distant wall. It was barely a half-hour before he had to get up so there was no point in going back to sleep.

He smiled faintly when he heard Wilford snoring, the man splayed out to Dark’s left. The softer snores were from Chase who was cuddled up into Dark’s chest.

With a smile softening his features Dark decided: maybe he could sleep in a few more minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Post A/N: . . . Okay I lied big time.

Accessibility Translations:

1. looking

2. Just came from checking on the other groom. We’re just waiting for a final sweep of the area to make sure it’s alright

3. Dad. Informal, read phonetically as: Appa.

4. About time you showed up

[the1918]

2020 for the1918

Am I the last person to make this list? Maybe. Do I regret that? Yes. Am I making it anyways because my cognitive behavioral therapy is teaching me fix my avoidance issues? Also Yes.

Let’s do this: @The Trees In Front of Cevans’s House and @Bucky’s Arm... you da real MVPs.

But other than them...

Thank You to Everyone that Truly Made My 2020:

@cantabile-l  Jo (Daddy Dumpster™ Co-Founder) — I have to list you first. How could I not? Every friendship I’ve made in this fandom comes back to you. We literally bonded over porn lookalikes and started this craziness called the Stucky Porn Lookalikes Archive ( @stucky-lookalikes-archive ) to preserve the porn, and it now has now has 85k hits and 500 bookmarks (!!!?!!). But it’s more than that, even more than starting the Daddy Dumpster™ and bonding over culihos. Bespoke got finished because you got me excited enough to want it, just like half a dozen other fics. You were also the basis for many, many other friendships that I list below. Your nesting head canons were the inspiration for so, so many A/B/O moments in my fics. We’re so on the same length on an intellectual and spiritual level (I feel like you and me and @ixalit are three parts of one whole ❤) and I am in love with you for it. Culihos forever.

@hanitrash​ Hani (O.G. Dumpster™ Citizen) —I’m so, so damn glad you’re in my life. We share that sick sense of humor and refusal to adopt a filter. You add flavor to our Dumpster™ with your wit, and I feel so warm when you share pics and updates about the family with us. You were the first person I ran to when I “discovered” HTP and you held my hand 😂 And Jesus—your talent. I could go on and on and on about Through The Darkness I Heard Your Voice and Private Showing, but also one of my New Year’s resolutions is to start reading your work as Loralynne Summers. Thank you for making me smile every day of last year since April.

@trekchik Jini (O.G. Dumpster™ Citizen) — I can’t speak to the number of laugh-out-loud, belly-grabbing, cackling moments I have had in a year that could easily have been shit otherwise, all because of you. I feel like you’ve truly become a member of my family; like, I see you posting in the Dumpster™ when I wake up in the morning and I think to myself, “Oh, what’s the fam up to today?”. I know I’ve gone on and on about your talent (absolute queen of dialogue and pacing) before, but I don’t thank you enough for keeping the Porn Archive alive when the rest of us are slacking. Your Stucky Tumblr Drabbles (especially the meet cutes) puts a smile on half the fandom’s face regulary, and I’m excited to re-read the wonderful Anagnorsis & Peripeteia soon. Here’s to another year of weird dildo pictures.

@thegodswife Amanda (Dumpster™ Citizen) — I feel like we were literally destined to become friends. The love I feel for you and your little family is real and immense, and I feel like your victories (in life and in writing) are my victories. You have made a slow but steady convert of me to Shrinkyclinks with fics like peaches and because it's christmas, and I am in awe of your talent for writing charged dynamics with jaw-dropping moments. This fandom is lucky to have such a gem as you. 2021 is going to be the Year of Amanda (*clinks Lindeman’s Framboise glasses 🥂*)

@ixalit Max (Dumpster™ Citizen) — My relationship with you has and continues to be lifechanging for more reasons than I can even go into on tumblr. You make me laugh. You make me cry (usually in good ways). You make me horny by supplying the #porn-and-fun as the dutiful resident horny teenage boy of Dumpster™. I remember so clearly when we first messaged talking about your Evanstan thoughts and fics, and I knew your writing was special then (omg, Hiraeth?? How dare). You deserve all the success you earned in 2020 and every bit more success that you will continue to have this year. There is no one else I would rather have with me as we make this ~journey through Song of the Rolling Earth together. 

@becassine Bex (Dumpster™ Citizen) — What can I say about my lucky charm? 🍀 I found our friendship later in the year and I feel it was truly central to the way I finished out my year with a bang (lol). Your encouragement to finish Bespoke supercharged me, and I’m still riding that high in writing SoRE. But for every bit we talk about you being the Queen of Hype (Becassine, First of Her Name), I am also stunned by your own gorgeous writing. The Way I Feel For You is a gift to this fandom and it’s gonna keep rocking our world, along with any other creative endeavor you choose to embark on. Thank you for the treasure of your continued friendship.

@darter-blue​ Bec (Dumpster™ Citizen) — My gorgeous, gorgeous cunt of a friend. What ever am I going to do with you? I feel like you and I have clicked so perfectly and so instantly, and I feel such a strong connection to you. I have been enamored with your skill and your style since I first stumbled across your Sergeant Barnes and Colonel Rogers: A Love Story series and then rapidly gobbled up your other writing. Getting to collab with you on No Vacancies was a dream come true. You make me feel so connected to the outside world and humanity even in this bizarre time and even though you’re on the other side of the world.

@kalee60 Kel (Dumpster™ Citizen) — You flawless sass-master. You brilliant human. You tricky little bastard. What a perfect addition to the Dumpster™ you have been! And your talent, Jesus... just being around you makes me want to write. I have truly never seen someone with as much talent write so prolifically, and I am in very real awe of it. If I had to pick “Fic of the Year” for me, I would not hesitate to pick Push The Button—it turned my world upside down—but for as much as we talk about that epic, your AU Extravaganza is really miracle to behold. And I am so, so pumped for you during this exciting time coming up in your life. Here’s to magnificent year for you in 2021!

@andysmountains​ Andy Gator Lord 🐊 — You’ve changed my life. I’m sitting here and I honestly don’t know how else to put it. You’re hilarious and you’re a ball of sunshine and you have kept this breeder feeling rooted to reality (in a great way) and remembering how to smile during some of the shittiest times I can remember. Newts. You’ve helped me explore my identity, and I’m not sure what greater gift you could have given me. Also, I’ve never heard true love whispered more sincerely than when I see 🔪—and I would give you nine hundred and ninety-seven 🔪 now if not for the fact that you have literally beat me to it.  

@ceratonia-siliqua Cera — We’ve shared so much. I feel so privileged that you’ve picked me to be a person that you want to talk to during hard times because you’re such a special guy, and because you’ve got talent that the world needs to see forever and ever and ever (I continue to blown away by what you did in Sunshine, and none of us are ready for Quilt Fic™) and I hope you never stop writing your whole damn heart out. I truly love you. I do. Thank you for reminding me that there is endless humanity and prose in this world.

@howdoyousleep3​ K — I feel like 2021 couldn’t be starting off better now that you’re in my life again. Last year was largely defined for me by the time I spent with you, and I’ve truly been changed by you and your writing. You are an endless amount of inspiration for me and this whole community; I would bet real money that the number of Daddy Kink converts that owe their new *interest* to finding your Daddy Steve Rogers/Baby Bucky Barnes series numbers in the hundreds (not to mention your other AUs). But fics aside, I had so many smiles and laughter throughout 2020 because of you, and I owe such a big part of my happy heart to you and your presence in my life. You have a huge, caring heart. Cheers to Cevans continuing to be a giant, bro-ish man slut and us never stopping giving him shit for it — and here’s to Trucker Bucky and his bug.

@lullabybeauty Bee — I’m not sure I would still be writing if it weren’t for you. The interest you took in my fics and endless support you’ve provided have turned me into a real-life 🥺🥺🥺 face so many times I can’t count them. But more than the hype you provide, you are an amazing person, and I hope you never stop putting (and ceaselessly keeping) the word out in our community through your blog that Black Lives Matter and black women matter now and forever; it’s far too easy for those of us who are white to let that truth fade from our minds when there’s not something terrible happening in the news, and I’m so thankful for your posts filling up my dash with reminders I need to be a good ally and giving me information to share with others. Thank you for the gift of yourself.

@ywecanthavenicethingsanymore Caroline—You sort of swooped out of nowhere for me and boosted my confidence through the roof. Your comments and your hype and your hilarious tags remind me every day that writers are only half of the fanfiction equation; all we do without supportive friends like you is sit in the corner dreaming of stories we don’t have the confidence or feel-good to put to words. Thank you for your constant support and for being so. damn. cool.

@littlesurfergrl Heather—Oh, Heather. Queen of the A+ tags. Sender of inbox updates about what time you get off of work and why you’re vibrating to read a fic. All-around beautiful person. Your love and support is magic in my veins.

@hoeforthegays Baby J—I am so damn excited for this creative project you’ve taken on; you are so talented. I look forward to our thirst talks all the time. You make me laugh with your screaming and even your advice. Such a source of sunshine in my life.

@capbvckyrogers / @tae-withsuga Cam — You were the first person who ever reblogged a farmer daddy post. You were the first person who ever sent me a prompt. Honestly, you were the first person who ever bonded with me over a character. There zero (0) chance I would have enjoyed fandom (or certainly any kind of creative success) the way that I did in 2020 if not for you. Thank you, endlessly. 

@justice-for-plums​ Kenz — Another “late in the year” friendship find that I am so grateful for. I love our talks! I am so thankful you felt comfortable to reach out and talk about writing. Our workshopping has helped remind me of what works and what doesn’t for me, and I love the creative collaboration on head canons! Excited for more in 2021.

Shrunkyclunks Bitches®, or those not mentioned already above: @dreadlockholiday (co-founder of the Bitches® with @justice-for-plums​ and #1 reason I blushed last year), @oh-i-swear-writes​ @wayward-lives​ @allegedlyann and others I either am missing on tumblr or forgetting (but not because I don’t love you) — Here’s to Cap Steve and modern Bucky and 1,000,000+ words written during our writing sprints in 2021. [Bitches® server membership is open by the way! If you love Shrunkyclunks, contact Dready @dreadlockholiday​].

And to the endless list of others who made me smile, laugh, sometimes cry, feel proud, but always feel that incredible Stucky love — a list that includes but is certainly not limited to @fishcustardandclintbarton,​ @hawkeyeandthewintersoldier, @willbakewithstucky, @hannah-stagram​, @thewaythatwerust​, @bigbraiiin, @musette22, @luninosity​, @fandomfluffandfuck​, @maddiewritesstucky​, @hbalbat, @doctorenterprise​, @epicstuckyficrecs, @k347 and the massive important people I know I am forgetting (...like some BIG ones)

To everyone above and anyone else who has scrolled this far:

Thank you.

Let’s all have a fantastic 2021 🥂

[natashacoco]

Wedding Bells

Requested by @dersha89: Hey, how about you write a Florian fic of how he met reader and propose to her. 

Warnings: mentions of sex, fluff, romanitc feelings 

Prompt: Florian decides to surprise reader with a romantic getaway, but there are more than one surprise waiting for them on vacation. 

By the time you made your way downstairs, you were sure that you were going to be late for your reservation. You couldn’t help yourself, the way that Florian looked tonight made it hard to keep your hands, and other parts of your body away from him for too long. The two of you were on vacation, and the two of you were using it to your full advantage.

This vacation was really needed, it was hard maintaining a relationship with somebody in the entertainment industry, but the two of you made it work the best that you could, getting to see Florian continue to make a name for himself. Creed II may have opened the door for him, but Shang-Chi would make the world his oyster. 

You remember the moment that the two of you met two years ago, you were on vacation in Greece with some friends when you’d met Florian, he had treated his parents to a family holiday. You’d exchanged numbers and had met up on the beach, walking along the shores and talking about anything and everything until the setting sun returned to rise. The two of you weren’t sure how, but you’d both decided to give the chance of a long distance thing a try, neither of you really wanting anything serious because of your lives, but somehow it did, and here the two of you were years later. 

“Are you sure I look okay Flo?” you ask, taking a look in the hallway mirror of the private villa Florian had rented for the two of you. The silk dress in your favorite color accentuates your curves, your skin a little flushed and glowy from the sex the two of you had earlier. 

“More than okay draga, if we don’t leave now, I’m sure that it’ll end up on the floor if we don’t leave.” he said, sticking out his tongue at you. You roll your eyes, knowing that there was more than enough truth in what he was saying. 

He opens the door for you and leads you outside, closing the door behind the both of you. It was beautiful weather, and the both of you decided that to walk to the restaurant. You loop your arm through his and the two of you make your way through the city, the two of you falling into easy conversation as you make your way to your destination. 

Florian guides you through the streets until the two of you make it to the restaurant, the sign for La Sponda coming into view. Entering the restaurant, your greeted and taken into the hallway where you’re met by a sight straight out of a fairytale. The entire restaurant is lined with what appears to be hundreds and hundreds of candles, vines covering the roof and walls of the entire building. 

“Florian, where is everybody?” You question, realizing that the restaurant is empty. 

“Oh, I rented the entire restaurant out for us this evening” he says matter-of-factly, following one of the employees out on the terrace lined with more candles and a singular table is set for two, the view incredible as Florian pulls out your chair for you to sit before rounding the table and settling in himself. Almost instantly a waiter comes out with a bottle of wine and fills two glasses. You and Florian thank them, raising your glasses and clinking them together. 

“I had them make all of our favorite Italian dishes for us” Florian says, answering your question about the food. 

“Oh, so you mean we’re just having about a dozen varieties of pizza then?” you ask. Florian erupts into laughter, taking a sip of his wine. 

“W-ell, not all of it’s pizza” he counters. You smile at him a different waiter comes out with the start of the first course. 

The evening goes on, the beautiful buildings of the Amalfi Coast a backdrop to the golden hour of the setting sun. Everything about today had been perfect, the two of you enjoying each others company and the romantic ambiance of the restaurant.  

“I have one more surprise for you draga” Florian says, getting up from the table and pulling you towards the terrace railing. “Just look over there” he says, pointing off into the distance. 

You take a few moments to scan the horizon and when you can’t seem to find it, when you turn around, you expect to see Florian still standing but instead you find him behind you on one knee, a small black box in hand. “Flo?” you squeak out, shocked at the sight before you. 

“I know you’re going to say that it’s too much, but nothing is too much when it comes to you. I want everybody to know that you’re wearing my ring, that you’re the one that I’m going to call my wife until we’re both old and you’re yelling at me to turn the t.v. down even though it’s off. I want to have children with you, little versions of us running around the place calling us Mama and Tatâ.”

Your entire body is shaking, and your eyes are full of tears at the words he’s saying to you, so much love and sincerity filling them as he continues.

“I want to have what my parents have, to have somebody to share the rest of their lives with. To grow together, both individually and as a couple. I want to see the world with you, I want to share the good, the bad, and even the absolute ugly parts and know that you’ll be by my side through it all. Every time I picture that, it’s always with you, I’ve known it since our first date.” he says, finally pulling open the box to reveal the ring. You let out a large gasp, he’s right, it’s too much, but absolutely perfect in every way. 

“So Y/N, will you marry me?” he asks, his eyes boring into yours. 

You’re frozen in place, the adrenaline causing your heart to beat so fast in your chest, the tears running down your face. 

“Is that a yes, no, I’ll get back to you in a 7-10 business days?” He questions. 

“Da, yes.” you finally answer, still shocked at everything. 

He pulls the ring out of the little black box and reaches for your hand. “Do you know why I chose Italy to propose to you Y/N?” he asked. You shake your head no in response. 

“The tradition of putting the wedding ring on the left hand can be traced back to the Ancient Romans. They believed this finger had a vein that ran directly to the heart, the Vena Amoris, meaning 'vein of love.’” he says, slipping the ring onto your finger, admiring the way it looks before kissing the inside of your wrist. 

“I am going to spend the rest of my life loving you Y/N” he says, getting up before capturing your mouth in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless and without a doubt that he promises to keep his word.