#I’ve always wanted to try tarte and the price was right

[doulayogimama]

I buy new makeup every 3-5 years and wear it 3-5x per year as well 😂

I have a wedding in a couple weeks and I knew my makeup was crusty. I needed a revamp. I hadn’t bought makeup since summer of 2020, lol. Tarte is having a sale: 7 FULL sized items (many vegan options) + makeup bag for $69 with ✨FREE✨ shipping.

Done 👍🏽

I’ll buy prob not buy another makeup haul until ~2028 😂

[awkward-walking-potato]

You asked I deliver lol. Deadpool request: what about exes wade and reader that see each other after the break up and the talk between them ends hopeful? 🤭🤭♥️🖤♥️🖤

Lipstick and Heartache

Deadpool didn’t do grocery shopping. Not usually. That was one of the perks of having a blind roommate—she never knew when you brought home takeout instead of the ingredients you were supposed to buy. But today was different. Today, he’d lost a bet with Logan, and now here he was, pushing a cart down the cereal aisle, pretending he wasn’t contemplating murder by Frosted Flakes.

Logan was ahead of him, growling something about the price of beef jerky, while Blind Al was arguing with an innocent store clerk over the alleged existence of a non-alcoholic whiskey. Wade was zoning out, mentally debating which flavor of Pop-Tarts could be weaponized the best, when it happened.

He saw you.

You were standing by the produce section, examining a bunch of bananas with the kind of focus Wade usually reserved for choosing between chimichangas or tacos. His heart did a weird little flip-flop in his chest—like it always did whenever he saw you—but this time it was followed by a pang of something darker. Regret.

It had been months since he ended things. Months since he decided that his life was too dangerous for someone like you. Someone good. He thought he was doing the right thing, letting you go, keeping you safe from the chaos that seemed to follow him like a shadow. But it was the hardest thing he’d ever done, and judging by the way his chest ached just looking at you, it hadn’t gotten any easier.

You glanced up, your eyes catching his. For a moment, everything around him blurred—Logan’s grumbling, Al’s cursing, the mundane bustle of the grocery store—all of it faded into the background. It was just you and him.

And then, you smiled.

“Wade?” you called out, clearly surprised but pleased to see him. You set the bananas down and walked over, your steps confident, casual, like you hadn’t been haunting his thoughts since the day he walked out.

He put on his best grin, the one that was just a bit too wide, a bit too cocky. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite fruit ninja,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “How’ve you been, beautiful?”

“Good,” you replied, stopping just a foot away from him. “And you? I didn’t expect to see you in a place like this. I thought grocery stores weren’t your style.”

He chuckled, glancing at Logan, who was now glaring at a stack of canned beans like they’d personally insulted him. “Oh, I’m just here to supervise the world’s angriest lumberjack and pick out some adult diapers for Al. You know, the usual.”

You laughed, and the sound hit him like a warm breeze. It was familiar and comforting, but also a reminder of everything he’d been missing. “Sounds about right,” you said, your eyes softening as they met his again. “I’ve missed your sense of humor, Wade.”

His heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself to keep it together. “Yeah, well, it’s a package deal with the stunning good looks and the terrible life choices,” he joked, though his voice cracked just a little on the last part.

You looked at him for a moment, like you were trying to read something in his eyes. “I always liked the package,” you said softly, and it was like someone reached into his chest and squeezed.

He wanted to say something—anything—to keep you here, to explain why he’d done what he did, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he just stood there, staring at you, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world for ever letting you go.

Sensing the shift in his mood, you smiled gently and reached up, your fingers brushing against his masked cheek. “I’ve got to go, Wade,” you said, and before he could protest, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

He froze, every nerve in his body buzzing as you pulled back, leaving a perfect imprint of your lipstick on his cheek. “Take care of yourself, okay?” you whispered, giving his hand a quick squeeze before turning and walking away.

He watched you go, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. It wasn’t until you disappeared around the corner that he realized he was still standing there, like an idiot, with a goofy grin on his face.

“Nice lipstick, Romeo,” Logan grunted, sidling up beside him with a smirk. “You gonna frame that or what?”

Wade blinked, reaching up to touch his cheek where your kiss still lingered. “Shut up, honey Badger,” he muttered, trying and failing to sound annoyed. But the truth was, he couldn’t stop smiling, even as he felt the blush creeping up his neck.

Blind Al’s voice came from behind them. “What’s this I hear about him getting a smooch? Did hell freeze over or is Wade actually getting some action?”

Wade rolled his eyes, turning to push the cart down the aisle. “It’s nothing, just a little fan service,” he quipped, trying to play it off, but his heart wasn’t in it. His mind was still replaying that moment over and over again, the feel of your lips on his cheek, the look in your eyes when you said goodbye.

Logan chuckled, grabbing a pack of beer and tossing it into the cart. “Yeah, well, if that’s what you call ‘nothing,’ then you’ve got it bad, Wilson. Real bad.”

Wade didn’t respond, too lost in thought to come up with a snarky comeback. Instead, he let himself savor the memory of your kiss, the warmth of your touch, and the bittersweet ache of knowing that, for a moment, you were his again.

Even if it was just a moment.

“Hey, Wade,” Al called out as they headed toward the checkout. “You think you’ll ever grow a pair and actually talk to her about why you ended things?”

Wade sighed, the smile finally fading as reality set in. “Maybe, Al. Maybe one day,” he said quietly, knowing full well that day might never come.

But for now, he had your kiss on his cheek, and that was enough to keep him going—at least until the next time fate decided to throw you back into his life.

And as they walked out of the grocery store, Logan and Al still teasing him mercilessly, Wade couldn’t help but feel that, somehow, he was a little bit closer to you, even if it was just in his heart.

And damn, if that didn’t feel like the best thing in the world.

[tiredpandaportfolio]

Dante trying to make pizza at home for the first time would be a nightmare. RIP the poor kitchen

It takes me way longer to get these out than I like.

It was the closure of his favorite pizza joint that really pushed him over the edge. Financial troubles, they claimed. Dante could maybe understand that. They had the perfect balance of cheap and quality pizza in that part of town--and they were willing to deliver to his alley, something most pizza joints balked at.

With good reason, perhaps.

Still, he told himself. Wasn't the end of the world, was it?

He tried a few other pizzerias. Some did not want to get their delivery crews anywhere near the whole neighborhood. Of those that did, their fare was either way too expensive for his wallet, or some kind of disgrace that should be ashamed of calling itself pizza. He was very particular about his pizza. He hated anything too greasy, or that was all bread and not enough toppings, or when the cheese had a funky smell, or when the store was stingy with the meat. 

He struggled through the first two weeks. Just when he thought he’d found some hopefuls, he also found out that they were a lot less forgiving than his old usual about being owed money. They cut him off at once and even spread the word.

“Aaah… what’s a man gotta do for some decent pizza around here,” Dante grumbled as he sat back against his large chair, frustrated.

He knocked the last of the fliers into the wastebasket where others lay crumpled. Every last one of these stores among them had let him down. Sure, he could go out to eat but he’d much rather have it brought to his doorstep so he could enjoy his pizza in peace. The frozen pizzas he’d gotten to tide him over were not cutting it anymore. They were too small, too thin, too stingy with everything. He needed something with substance.

As he glared at the ceiling fan, a dreadful thought came to him. He would have to seek advice. He carefully considered who he could entrust with this secret. Trish was out. She would purposefully just tell him to eat something else, just to amuse herself at his frustration. Lady would make it about money, like she always did. He grumbled. No, there was only one person who’d give him a straight answer… for a price. He sighed. He hated this, but he’d have to bite the bullet. 

He sat up and dragged his phone close, wedged the receiver between his ear and shoulder and irritably dialed the number, his finger dragging the dial round and round with practiced speed and mindfulness not to actually break the damn thing. The crackly dialing tone made his leg bounce with frustration.

“C’mon… c’mon…” he muttered through his teeth. 

She took her time answering. He heard the click of her answer and then the soft, tired voice: “Hello?”

“Hey Twig,” Dante said, leg still bouncing. “Still sleepin’ in? It’s 5 in the evening.”

“No,” Tess sighed from the other end of the line. “That’s you, ‘till someone walks in and gives you a load of trouble. Or scarfing down another pizza.”

“Funny you should say that,” he said.

“Anyway, what’s happened now?”

Dante smirked tartly. “Now why would you say that, Twig?” 

“Because you never call just to chat,” Tess replied in a similar tart tone.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled. “Listen, I need a tiny favor.”

“If you’re gonna ask me to ‘magic your coat clean’ again I’m going to hang up.”

“Wait, wait, wait–” Dante said quickly. “No, I just wanna ask you something.” 

“Oh,” Tess said sheepishly. “What’s up? Ghost stuff?” 

“No, no, it’s something dumb,” he admitted. “Listen, this stays between us, alright? I’ve got dirt on you too, don’t forget.” 

“Yeah, yeah, just out with it, you fusspot.”

Dante braced himself and breathed in. “Alright, listen. I need your unbiased opinion, as an Italian.” 

“Oh boy,” Tess said and he heard her smirking.

“So… what’s the best pizza place in town, right now, in your expert opinion?” he asked quickly. 

“The what now…?” she echoed. “Dante… did you call me to ask about a pizzeria? Is this about your usual place closing up?” 

Dante grimaced. “Who told you that?” 

“Morisson, he saw it closed and predicted you’d lose your mind,” she chuckled. “What, are you gunning for your fix?”

He resisted the urge to hang up. “Please just give me something, I’m so done with this.” 

“I’m not some kinda pizza oracle, Dante,” Tess sighed, but he still heard her smiling. “I don’t know man, have you tried Rossellini’s? Oh but they wouldn’t deliver to your end of town, would they…”

Dante growled. “No, they don’t and it bugs me. They have good pizza.”

“Well… not sure what to tell you then, I don’t really do take out,” Tess said. “Unless you want to take a crack at making pizza.”

“Real funny–” Dante started to snark but then he blinked. Really, why didn’t he try that? He might be lazy but this was a matter of his peace of mind. If he just made his own he could have pizza whenever he wanted! And he’d make it the way he wanted! 

“I might just do that, Twig,” he said, feeling smug. 

There was a weighty pause before she replied. “Ok, just don’t burn your house down. I don’t want to think about what you’d do if all you had left were the clothes on your back–assuming you haven’t pawned them off.”

“Your confidence in me is breathtaking, Twig,” Dante snarked and hung up the phone. 

He stood up and stretched. Right. Making pizza should not be that hard. 

But it was. 

Two days later, Dante stood over his oven, fumbling with a fire extinguisher, covered in flour and his shirt stained with tomato sauce. His oven was open, spewing out a thin wisp of really smelly, dark smoke and he could barely see what was going on inside. Finally he tossed the old handheld extinguisher aside and with a grunt just grabbed the rack bare handed and pulled it out. He winced. What he was holding was a blackened oven rack with what looked like pieces of charcoal stuck to the prongs. He blinked. 

“Where’s the rest of it…?” he muttered and then cast his eyes around for a place to put it down on. 

To his dismay, the sink was full of dirty bowls, the counter was covered in flour, spilled pizza sauce and the aftermath of a carnage of chopping vegetables and meat. Even the table was covered in dirty pots and kitchenware, except for the one spot where a ratty-looking recipe book was open, its pages stained. He awkwardly elbowed aside some stuff on the small counter and tried to put the hot and charred rack down, having to quickly drop it and move to catch a falling bowl with his foot, resulting in splattering his boot and pantleg with the first, utterly failed version of his pizza sauce.

He hissed out a cuss and picked up the bowl off his foot and put it in the sink with a sigh, grabbed a grimy rag to wipe his boot and clothes down, then stooped to look inside the oven. 

“What else was I expecting…” he sighed, staring at the pile of charred remains at the bottom of the oven.

He had stupidly placed the awkwardly shaped hunk of dough straight onto the rack with just some baking paper, because he’d managed to ruin the only baking sheet he had. The previous attempt was welded to the sheet. The kitchen stunk of charred food and Dante straightened up, rubbing his back and looked around. His attempts to cook usually produced a mess but this was beyond even his greatest culinary disasters. He’d stubbornly been trying for the last two days and every time he thought he was making some kind of breakthrough, he’d stumble onto another problem. He’d gotten close a couple of times but the two that looked safe enough to eat were just terrible. Looking at the sad pile of charcoal at the bottom of his oven, Dante sighed. 

He shut the oven and then shut his eyes, tilting his head back towards the ceiling. The taste of defeat was so much worse than anything he’d eaten from his attempts and he was starting to just ruefully accept it.

“Haaaah… she’s never gonna let me live this down,” he sighed.

He trudged out of the kitchen and straight to his bathroom to peel the sweaty, dirty clothes off him. He wasn’t attached to these particular ones but he was almost impressed how he’d managed to make more of a mess on them by trying to cook than he’d ever manage by fighting demons. He would’ve been laughing at himself if he wasn’t at the end of his rope and tired. He managed to shower, only to find that there was so much flour and bits of dough stuck in his hair it took work to get it all out without it turning glue-like. When he finally dragged himself out of the shower, the office no longer smelled of burned food and he changed into fresh clothes and tried not to think about what he was going to do about the utter disaster in the kitchen.

He sat heavily into his chair with a groan and leaned back, resting his legs on the desk and stared at the ceiling. He was never good at stomaching defeat and even something as minor as this–which to his mind was not minor at all–was going to really get him down in the dumps for a good while. The last thing he wanted was someone to bother him now. 

So of course the phone rang. 

Dante grunted, almost wanting to kick the hoarse-sounding machine off his desk but instead he knocked the receiver off the base, with practiced care, and snatched it out of the air to bring it to his ear.

“Devil May Cry…” he grumbled. 

“Ah, sounds like someone’s having a bad day,” Tess said. 

Dante almost hung up and blurted something vague about her timing.

“Alright, alright, don’t get worked up,” she said, and he frustratingly could hear her grin. “Just wondering how you’re coping. Did you actually try making pizza?”

He almost snapped at her but frankly, it wouldn’t amount to anything and he was too tired to get into a fight. He sighed and leaned back into his chair. “I did.” 

There was a pause and he could easily imagine her looking amazed–or horrified. “And? Building still intact?” 

He grunted again. “It’s fine. But I sure as hell burned a couple of pizzas.”

“Guess the experiments failed,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“Big time. I’m left with a bomb-zone of a kitchen and an empty stomach,” he confessed.

“Mmm, sounds like it. I take it you’re running on fumes now, huh?”

Dante didn’t want to admit it, but he really hadn’t eaten much since yesterday and he was already feeling like his stomach was sticking to his back. “Kinda,” he grunted. “Why?”

“Well… I haven’t had lunch and I really don’t feel like eating by myself so why don’t you pick your sorry ass up and come over here,” she said. “And before you get any ideas,” she added, just as he was about to protest, “this is not pity. You’ve probably committed unspeakable sins against pizza over the last couple of days and the less we speak of that, the better. Consider this a re-education. I’m going to teach you what good pizza is.” 

Dante let out a barking laugh. “You didn’t. You can just make pizza?”

“Dude, I lived in Italy,” she said smugly. “If you can’t make pizza you get deported.”

He sat up properly. “And what, you’re willing to share?”

“Yes. Rejoice, dumbass, I’m gonna feed you. And then teach you how to make a pizza without burning your office down,” she said.

He chuckled. “Careful, Twig, I might have to propose.”

“You’re so funny. Just get over here, I have some dough ready to go. Bring some beers,” she sad. “And before you ask, no, I cannot ‘magic your kitchen clean’. Your mess, your problem.”

“You’re such an evil bitch sometimes,” he grumbled.

“Mmm, yeah, I’m so evil I’m offering to have home-made pizza with you. Now get over here, I can’t wait to see your face when you try my pizza and love it.”

“Don’t get cocky Twig, I might just say I hate it just to spite you.”

Tess laughed loudly. “Hah! Good one. I’ll have you know my pizza makes gods weep.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Dante chuckled. “Alright, save me a seat, I’ll bring the beer. I’ll grab one of those tangerine schnapps Roy likes and try and bribe him to rescue my kitchen, or something.”

“Be prepared to be reeeeeally nice to him, then,” she cackled. “See you.”

Dante grumbled and hung up after her, then stood up and stretched. Actually, he really should gracefully take this defeat and make the best he could out of it. Having pizza and some beers with Tess did not sound all that bad… her mockery aside, anyway, because she was never going to let him live this down.

[juniminabloom]

Yandere! Chef Saltbaker x reader - THE FINALE!

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH TO WHOMEVER WAS HERE SINCE THE BEGINNING! THIS WAS SUCH A JOY TO WRITE AND I AM OVERJOYED AT THE FACT OF HOW MANY PEOPLE LOVED THIS!! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!!

Since I can’t really mention all 65 followers, I will mention those who were there since the beginning, and my biggest fans. You all are incredible people and I love you guys so much!! These people include: @soillky   @kirlias452​ @sensitivebish26 @chipichopi @gloomyfood @slavic-angelo @lovepaperhearts  @etherealninfa​ @roska-roska​ @leftcatbouquet @7cat7

Now, ONTO THE FINALE!! Note: This story has 2 DIFFERENT ENDINGS!

~Word count: 0.8k~

     The sugary sweetness of his lips against yours makes your heart thump violently. Out of shock, too. It’s your first kiss! Succumbing to the wonderful feelings in your chest, you pull him into a warm hug, a happy giggle escaping your lips.

     A couple seconds later, he pulls away with a wavering smile. His pupils look like hearts, and he has a slight pinkish tone to his cheeks. You can’t help but blush too. No words are spoken, just soft hugs and small pats on the back. Until you hear a faint whisper, “I love you, Y/N.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Time Skip: 1 Week~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Saltbaker had gone to apologize to the three cups for his actions. They were upset, but they eventually forgave him. You four had also began hanging out, usually at his bakery, where he baked pastries of all types for you, the cups, and him. It’s always fun! One time, Cuphead made a stupid joke while you all ate, and Mugman smashed a tart in his face!

     After one of those hangouts, you offered to help Saltbaker clean up and wash the dishes. He accepted, and after you both were done, he had something to ask you. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Time Skip: Present Day~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Y/N? Can I ask you something...?” He asked, pressing his index fingers together. He was nervous. “Of course! What is it?” You replied.

     “Well... um...      I guess it’s not so secret, but I’ve liked you for a really long time. I started to develop feelings a few days after getting to know you. It was like you were an angel sent down to bless me.

     But on that day, y’know, with the Wondertart? My vision of you had changed. I needed you in my life, no matter the price I had to pay. I even went as far as almost taking Mugman’s soul. I was stopped, but I still needed you.

     Now, I understand my actions and I know and acknowledge that they were harmful, shameful, and downright wrong. But, my question is:

Do you love me back...?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ENDING 1: Salt and Pepper go great together (💗)

     Of course you did! He’s always been there for you in the past, and will surely be in the future. You understand what he’s done, but you forgive him.

     “I do!! I do, Salty!” You exclaim, overjoyed. His eyes light up with a glamourous twinkle, and he can’t help but laugh and blush. He picks you up bridal style, and he spins you around, the both of you laughing and smiling, hearts filled to the brim with love. ~~~Epilogue for ending 1~~~

     It’s been 4 months since you two started dating. And he has shown you nothing but love. He always showers you with compliments and hugs, and the occasional kiss on the cheek. 

     Remembering the strange dream you had, you decided to try and learn the saxophone. You’ve gotten pretty good at it, and Saltbaker loves to hear you play. He even decided to take up the trombone to duet with you.

     Dating him was the best thing that could ever happen to you. No moment in your life with him has been bland. It’s always full of love and happiness, and even if your sad, he’s always there to cheer you up.      Life will be different, but it’ll still be enjoyable! You can’t wait for what the future brings. But little do you know, that when the right time comes, Saltbaker has a perfectly sized ring..... He’ll be looking forward to the next step. But only when you’re ready. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ENDING 2: Nobody wants to eat spoiled food (💔)

     No. Goodness no. There is no way you could love that man after all he’s put you through.

     Staring at him with a cold glare, “No. I don’t love you back. I’m sorry, but even after all you’ve put me through, I just can’t bring myself to love a man with vile intentions.”

     Saltbaker sighs, looking down at the floor with a defeated look. You turn around and start to head out, but you hear Saltbaker whisper, “Wait...”

     You turn around to find a rolling pin smashing against the side of your head.

~~~Epilogue for ending 2~~~

     It’s been 4 months since you and Saltbaker started dating. Not that you wanted to, but you were forced into it. He needed you in his life. He would go to any extent to make that happen. So, he had told you, “If you don’t stay with me, I’ll make sure that all of this isle will go up in flames.”

     You spent your days working around the bakery. No one had ever found out that you two were a “couple”.  After the day was over, he would pick you up and place you in his room, where he locked you and himself in the room. You could do whatever you wanted, but you usually sat in the corner next to his bed. He’d always try to comfort you, but you never spoke to him, you only shoved him away with a glare.

     Who knows how long you’d be there? Who knows if you’d develop feelings? That’s surely what he wants, and he’ll try his best to make it happen.

But for now, he’ll only greet you with a wistful smile. And he’ll keep dreaming.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!!

Now, for that surprise! I will announce it 7:30 AM tomorrow!

I hope you all enjoyed the story!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH AGAIN FOR READING!!! Love you all <3

[dreamii-yume]

Hiya~ Can I request a sinfic featuring yan!riddle where he uses an aphrodisiac on his fem!darling? ^v^ thanks in advance if you every try to write this!

Tried to implement some Mommy kink for our Baby Riddle but meh...Yume didn’t quite get there lol I’m sorry~ I’ll do your mommy kink justice someday, Riddle!  {{ (>_<) }}

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎︎

It's petty, it goes against the rules, against every moral lesson he was taught, and as the older one, Riddle knew how immature this was of him. But he just loves you so much that it's only fair for you to feel the same thing, right? It's a completely valid reason! 

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Riddle was not one to show emotions to make himself feel and look vulnerable to others.

It doesn't matter if they're a close friend or anyone he's familiar with, he just thinks that it's unnecessary for him to do so. Especially after his overblotting incident, it's just his duty to do what's right and recognize his past mistakes. For the first time in so long, he was corrected, he was wrong in so many ways, and he whole-heartedly accepted that. It was a blessing that his own dorm ended up forgiving his tyranny, being able to celebrate another successful unbirthday party as if Riddle hadn't done anything wrong at all. He was lucky to have such understanding friends, but the fact that they forgave him this easily was the exact reason why he's so conflicted with such a massive amount of guilt.

They were so nice despite after everything, just too loyal and accepting that Riddle's heart aches just remembering that he once took advantage of that loyalty. The guilt still chains him up and it was suffocating, but he knew he must not show such emotions. It doesn't change the fact that he's the Dorm Leader, the current King of Heartslabyul, he shouldn't burden anyone with such trivial things such as guilt. They don't have to know, if this was the price for his past actions, then he shall suffer through it all alone. No one needed to get involved in his personal matters, not again.

"...Are you sad, Riddle-san?"

No one...but you, who personally knocked ever so gently against the walls he built around himself.

Riddle didn't know if you were aware of his dilemma or had just consulted him out of pure instinct but he'd be lying if he said that he wasn't caught off guard that one day. It was the end of another unbirthday party that you and Grimm were invited to. You had dared to place your hand on his head, stroking his hair once and even asked such an outrageous question. Suffice to say, he was surprised, it left his mouth open but words don’t seem to come out. It also occurred to him that you might've done that deed unconsciously as he could practically see the realization coming down upon you, retracting your hands from his head almost immediately.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry...! I touched you without thinking..." You had apologized, bowing repeatedly but eventually looked up with an embarrassed smile. You scratched the back of your head, a tiny blush decorating your cheeks, feeling silly. "...I guess I just felt something really odd about you today, Riddle-san. It's probably just my imagination but still..."

"...Please cheer up. I'm sure no one would want to see you sad." You said, giving him a close-eyed smile and an awkward ‘Cheer-Up’ pose. "If you have something on your mind, feel free to share them with any of us!"

With Grimm screaming for you from the distance, you gave him one last smile and bowed before turning to your monster friend. Riddle didn't even get to say anything as he stood there, watching your figure disappear in the distance. He found himself reaching for his own head, on the same exact spot that your hand was in and looked down. That was unexpected, he really should get his act together if someone like you was able to tell. It was a relief that you didn't pry too much, that would've been a problem.

...Though, Riddle couldn't deny that something in him felt a little giddy for someone to see through him without words. The way you placed your hand on his head, the way your eyes looked at him, even if it was all done unintentionally. It made his face heat up and his heart could only beat so fast.

They all felt so gentle and sincere. He liked it.

But even so, Riddle turned around, clearing his throat and shaking his head awake out of such a ridiculous daydream. What is he talking about? Patting his head is a major offense to him personally! It's gesture that makes him feel inferior and doing so will immediately prompt him to decapitate your head off.

However, Riddle narrowed his eyebrows together and pat his reddening cheeks twice, just to calm himself down. You did recognize your mistake and it wasn't intentional after all so...He'll let you off the hook. He might've just been surprised, that's all, there was no more reason to fret over your touch like this.

Riddle needs to get his everything together, he's your senior, for god's sake.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

...Was what he told himself, correct? He thought he was done with this.

Someway, somehow, Riddle found himself inviting you for a private tea party with him one day. He doesn't like this, it feels like he's favoring you way too much, he doesn't even do this with Trey and the others. But one look at your troubled expression in the library that day was enough for him to come and talk to you. Seriously, had he really become this easy to catch these days? Anyways, your woes laid down on a subject that involves magic, it was probably why you look so troubled about it.

"You'll teach me? Really?"

That spark in your eyes was something Riddle had never seen before, it intrigued him for some reason. He originally thought that you were suspicious, suddenly appearing out of nowhere without a single ounce of magic. You ended up becoming a student, a half-student to precise, and not to mention a girl in a prestigious all-boys school that Night Raven. It already sounded problematic in papers and by ear, your whole existence in this school is a clear violation of rules! However, once he took a closer look at the bigger picture of your situation, only then did it occur to him how harmless you really are.

After all, you were just a normal girl who always seems to get involve in a situation you didn't ask for in the first place.

"I see...So, that's how it is." You said, humming. Even without magic to perform the activities written on the text book, you somehow understood the basic concept of the topic. As expected of Heartslabyul's Dorm Leader, his strict but careful manner of teaching was no joke.

Gracefully placing down his cup on a saucer, Riddle ran his finger smoothly on the huge block of text in the textbook. "You don't need magic to remember these formulas, correct? As long as you memorized all of them with accuracy, you'll have no problems in the upcoming tests." Riddle advised as you nodded, mentally taking notes of each and every one of his words. "Now, try to answer this next question with a different method. I'm sure you'll be able to figure out the trick soon enough."

True to what he said, you managed to answer all the questions in your homework and Riddle couldn't help but be amused with your reaction. You look so relieved that you were able to finish them in such a short period of time and with confidence too. This made him want to brag about how he could finish paper works at this amount in an even shorter time frame and with everything guaranteed to be correct just so he could see your amazed reaction. But he decided against it, thinking of how immature of a move it was.

"Riddle-san, you're really amazing...I could never do these things by myself." You whispered with a small laugh as you leaned down on the table, resting your head that had been starting to ache from all the memorization you've been doing. Riddle wanted to criticize your laid-back posture but, in the end, he kept it all on his own. Your exhaustion was to be expected after all, it’s understandable.

Riddle tilted his head to the side. "...Is that so? I do think this is normal for my age." He said, which merely made you laugh nervously and drop a sweat. What he said just proved how much of a genius this child is, having the personality of a workaholic. However, you noticed how he slouched down slightly, with something oddly lonely in his eyes. "...This is what I've been taught all my life after all. I have to be the best of the best."

Ah, of course, he's not a genius without a cost. That much is understandable at least. "That's not true." You said without thinking, making Riddle turn to look at you. Your eyes were closed as if you were in the verge of falling asleep but that dazed, gentle smile remains on your face, telling him that you're still wide awake. "No one can be the 'best' out of the best. A child shouldn't grow up to believe that they can."

"...But unfortunately so, Riddle-san did, didn't he?" You phrased the words like it was supposed to be a response to yourself rather than to him. You opened your eyes, sympathy overflowing from within them that it makes Riddle's heart ache. "I can't imagine how painfully lonely that must've been, enduring and following all those crazy rules."

"But you know? It doesn't have to be like that anymore, you have friends who'll listen and spend time with you now." You said. "You can eat all the tart you want and not have to worry about breaking any rules for even just a second. It doesn't hurt to have fun once in a while."

"That's why, Riddle-san doesn't need to be the best of the best. You don't even have to listen to your mother if you, yourself knew how unreasonable her words are. You are your own person, after all." Riddle looked up at you and you couldn't help but to think of him as a little puppy, learning how to do his first trick for the first time. However, you blinked and covered your mouth when you realized that you just said something extremely rude in regards to his mother. "A-Ah! T-That's not to bad-mouth your mother or anything! I'm sure she was trying in her own way...! I think…?"

A tinge of awkwardness decorated your features as you sat properly on your seat, scratching the back of your head. "...But the point is...I just don't see why Riddle-san needs to be the best at everything. You're already fine the way you are." You said, looking down as you begin to feel really embarrassed of what you're saying. "Honestly, if you were my son, I'd be the proudest mother in the whole world~! No doubt about it!"

Widening his eyes at what you said, Riddle couldn't help but look down as different kinds of emotions swirling inside of him. His mouth twitched but he didn’t know whether to smile or to frown, he's incredibly indecisive right now. But his eyes did soften though, your last words had echoed over and over again inside his head, blocking out every other words that came after. He felt all warmed up on the inside that he clutched his chest tight and didn't seem to hear you say "Just kidding~" in a playful manner. You'll be the proudest mother you said, an actual proud mother who can be proud of someone like him.

"...Honestly, it would've been nice if you were indeed my mother in the first place..." He whispered with a strained, quavering voice, his hand clenching harder on his chest. How laughable, he's older than you and yet, he could actually feel himself at ease, consulting you like this.

"Eh...? Eh!? Riddle-san!?" You were about question him, trying to process if what you heard was correct. However, you quickly shot up from surprise in your seat as you looked at the red-haired's expression, a few drops of glistening tears began to overflow from his eyes. "W-Why are you crying...!? Aah, I'm sorry, I-I was joking...! I'm not gonna do it again, okay-"

"Hey..." Before you could say any more, you flinched as Riddle grabbed your hand, shutting you up completely. You fell into silence as he slowly brought your hand up on top of his head, your heart beating in anticipation. "Could you do it again...? Please?"

You felt your face heating up, not knowing how to process this turn of events. It was supposed to be a joke, an example to strengthen a point that you were trying to make. Still, Riddle seemed to have taken it seriously and you couldn't help but to feel a little sympathetic. It just proves that this child had been hungry, yearning for some needed motherly affection that he never got as a child. So desperate in fact, that he's willing to believe that silly little statement of yours.

Your eyes softened as you went closer to him and began to stroke his hair as gently as you could. You watched him sniffle, his shoulders shaking slightly as he tries to keep his cries at a minimum. "...You're still in pain, aren't you? You poor thing..." You said with a smile, purposely making your voice as soft as possible to give him the sense of comfort. "There, there...It'll be alright. Everything's going to be alright."

With that, Riddle couldn't help himself anymore and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. Sitting on his little throne, he buried his face on your stomach, his tears staining your uniform but you didn't mind. All you could really do was to continue stroking his hair and welcomed his head in an embrace. "...Thank you for enduring everything all this time, you've been such a good boy." You comforted, closing your eyes and Riddle could just melt against you. "But we're here now, you don't have to worry anymore. From now on, you'll never feel lonely again."

"You've done an excellent job, Riddle. I'm so proud."

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Continue the Spice~?

Yume had to force herself to buy a new laptop because she knew she wouldn’t be able to survive Online Class without one (c" ತ,_ತ) I’m quite a stranger to electronics really, but I’m learning as I go, but I still miss my old laptop aaaa- （；＿；）

BUT NEVERMIND THAT!

Yume had reach 500+ followers! That many Darlings!? Isn’t it crazy!? (´；Д；`) To think this blog could actually reach that much lol Yume just wanted to release some hornii \(//∇//)\ Thank you very much, Sweethearts~! My fellow Hornii people ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

...I’m excited for the next few Sinfics (΄◉◞౪◟◉｀)

[with-love-anu]

Quills and Ink

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader Summary: Sirius gets anonymous letters from someone really sweet and falls for her. Warnings: It’s just fluff, no warnings to give! Word Count: 1,903

Sirius sat grumpily eating his breakfast. His head was throbbing due to last night’s endeavors and he wanted to gobble in all sorts of grease he could get. He piled his plate with bacon and fried egg when a school owl landed in front of him. He furrowed his brows. Who would write to him? He carefully took the letter out and opened it reading.

Dear Sirius,

Charms’ not an easy subject. The summoning charm they taught us yesterday is no different. For performing a summoning charm, you must clearly, and I mean clearly visualise the object you are summoning, like your favourite cookie. You could see it in your mind the sandy coloured biscuit full of dark brown choc chips, some edgy some melting. You could practically sniff its sweet smell and you want it right now, you need it. You say accio cookie with a small hand movement, imagining it coming towards you. And there you go, you have it. You can practice it over and over again and I am sure you’ll get used to it.

I just, I have always seen you excelling in every single class, and when you couldn’t do the spell yesterday, I thought maybe I’ll help. The professors having taught the same things a million times already, aren’t enthusiastic and somewhat, vague. Anyways, happy learning!

A fellow student.

Sirius smiled at the odd letter. He turned it around to find a name but there was none. The owl had already flown away.

Sirius closed his eyes taking his wand in his hand. What’s the harm in trying again? Accio muffin! Sirius grinned as a muffin zoomed towards him. Finally. He had done his best yesterday, but couldn’t perform the spell. He munched on the little cake happily. He felt satisfied; thinking about the sweet letter reading it again. Who could it be? He smiled, he wanted to meet this anonymous helper.

***

Sirius was sitting on the quidditch stands when a school owl came in. He smiled and his eyes widened. The person wrote him another letter? Telling the owl to wait; he opened it. It hooted indignantly but did just the same. He smiled realising he was right.

Dear Sirius,

I know you love teasing the Slytherins, but you need to understand that the group you hate is rather small. My friend who is in Slytherin was exhausted ridding their supplies from the red paint and gold glitter which you drenched their common room in. You know, this friend I am talking about is so damn sweet and couldn’t even hurt a fly. They have been loyal to me since the first year and have gone out of their ways to make me smile.

I am not asking you to stop pranking, but make your targets specific. Let me be honest here, I hate Mulciber’s gut as much as I hate sardines, and that’s a lot. And you know, harmless pranks are good too; specially if they make the targets smile and laugh along with you.

A fellow student

Sirius quickly summoned a sheet and started writing. Whoever this person was, was funny, and seemed to have a great personality.

Dear fellow student,

Firstly I want to thank you for your help in charms. I could do it on the first try after reading your explanation. *wink*

Secondly, I am sorry about your friend, maybe we do take it too far at times. I’ll make sure me and my friends don’t allow our pranks to affect ~innocents~. Speaking about pranks, I would love to hear more about those harmless ones you were talking about.

And thirdly, don’t you think it’s bad that you know me well enough to notice how I do in charms and I don’t even know your name? You seem like a fun person, sign the next letter with your name?

Sirius.

Sirius tied the letter to the owl and said, “Give it to the person who gave this to you”

***

Time passed and Sirius and a fellow student continued to exchange letters. Sometimes they were short, sometimes long and there wasn’t one where Sirius didn’t plead to find out who it was.

He showed some to his friends, others he kept to himself as his own little box of pleasure. James never failed to tease him and Remus would give him a knowing smirk whenever he didn’t let anyone touch those pieces of paper which had somehow become very close to his heart. No one missed the crimson blush that coloured Sirius’s cheek whenever he was asked about this very adorable fellow student. He kept every single one of the notes, trinkets, and gifts in a shoe-box hidden under his bed.

An empty box of an exclusive collection of handmade treacle tarts shrunk in size with the note which came along with it was tucked neatly in the box. Sirius had received it when he had got a nasty letter from back home during one morning. He had thought no one noticed but apparently he was wrong. The note said-

Dear Sirius,

You can never change people, make them see you or appreciate you or love you for that matter. Nothing in this world is fair and we take what is given to us. I know you got a letter from your parents this morning and over the years I’ve come to assume that they aren’t the most loving ones. We need you to remember you are an amazing person. So, gobble up these amazing chocolates while writing down things that are great about you. Let me start-

1.     You are funny / sarcastic. I don’t know anyone who could make McGonagall crack a smile and the moment you did it, I knew you were special

2.    You’re VERY intuitive. I saw you damn so many times calming down or walking various students through breakdowns, anxiety attacks; you know just what the person needs.

3.    Smart, that’s one thing about you not everyone sees, but come on; people should know those mischievous ideas need a brainy person behind them.

Your turn now, be as selfish as you could be!

A fellow student

A bouquet of lavender on which Sirius casted an everlasting spell, and an empty bottle of Chamomile tea made by an American company had come with a short note- “Put those flowers under your pillow, they help”. He ran his hand through them remembering feeling so touched when he received; he actually shed tears because he hadn’t slept all week and was exhausted to death.

There was a pile of books too. They contained all the famous muggle comics, which he had received when a fellow student had rambled on about their favourite superheroes and Sirius had admitted not understanding a thing in the long write up. He had read every single one of them more than thrice. Along with them, there was a detailed magazine on different motorbikes; their prices, their quality, talks about their engine. Sirius had gasped when he received it. The small note on it had said- “Even though I am sure I am going to regret this; because these are dangerous machines and you are one reckless person; I know your fascination with them and always love to see you smile. Just promise me you’ll read everything on the safety precautions page.”

There was a small key chain with paws on it, he got on Easter. He had barked out laughing seeing it (pun intended). He didn’t think you would remember something he wrote so offhandedly about. The note had said- “Since you were so adamant that you would be a dog if you were an animal!”

It was becoming incredibly frustrating. He was cautious of all the people who noticed him in classes, trying to guess who it was, which was futile since a major part of school turned to him whenever he entered the room. He was desperate, he was falling, hard. If the love they all gushed about, wasn’t what he felt; then he didn’t know what was. And he didn’t even know who it was! All he knew that your nickname was (Y/n/n) and you were in (Y/h) house. He felt stupid wanting you.

He had tried and failed trying to follow the owl to find you. Halfway to reaching you the owl had turned and bit him until he was forced to stop stalking it. Yeah, that had hurt. He tried to cast a monitoring spell on it so as to track it on the marauders map. The owl had realised something was going on as it fluttered and scratched his face red with it’s claws.

He took a pen and paper and ran to the owlery. As he entered the owlery, he saw someone was already there. (Y/n Y/L/n). She was a fellow student. They attended various classes together. Her eyes widened seeing him, and she quickly turned to what she was doing. Wait a fellow student! Can it be?

“Hi (Y/n), what brings you here?” he asked noting her reactions.

She stumbled.

“I… Just posting a letter.”

“Oh, how’s Abernathy’s health?” Sirius asked nonchalantly. Abernathy was (Y/n/n)’s sister who had caught a bad case of dragon pox.

“She’s better. The healer said- “(Y/n)’s mouth opened in realisation. Sirius smiled. He had finally found her.

“I…I…” (Y/n) stuttered looking at Sirius’s wide grin.

“I’m gonna go.” She said flustered and turned to leave.

Sirius quickly ducked in and grabbed her hand. “Don’t go” he pleaded.

(Y/n) slowly turned. She looked everywhere but him.

“Why did you not tell me?” Sirius asked quietly making her look up.

“I was afraid. I am really shy and I accept it. I’ve had a crush on you since forever and was quite sure I wouldn’t be able to talk to you face to face. I- I thought that when you realised that it was me writing you all those letters, you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you?” Sirius asked frowning.

(Y/n) let out a scoff.

“Oh come on! I see the type of people you are always with. Tall, beautiful, smart. Why would you even look at me!” She said mirthlessly.

It was Sirius’s turn to scoff.

“Are you kidding me?” Sirius asked incredulously. “Do you even own a mirror? That little (Y/f/c) colour dress you wore last weekend. Darling, I am sorry to inform you but you turned heads. I’ve always noticed you. You just light up when you talk to your friends and have that brilliant smile on your face. Before, you started writing to me you were just pretty; now I know you’re beautiful. You’re so full of kindness and generosity. Your letters never failed to bright up my day. You’re funny, sarcastic and motivated. I love that you could make me smile at the worst of times. I love that you constantly talk about made up heroes and heroines who could take on the world. I love that you care so much about your family that you write to them every other day. I love everything about you. I love you.” He breathed.

“You what?” you whispered.

“I love you” Sirius repeated.

“Good, cause I don’t know what I would have done you hadn’t told me soon” you sniffed a little, smiling.

“Come with me to hogwarts this weekend, you know, on a date.” Sirius asked as you gulped and nodded. Sirius smiled widely and you were sure your own expression mirrored his.

A/N: Let me know what you think!

[kuno-chan]

Sides of the Moon - Ch. 26, The Price of a Life

Summary: Runaan and his team of assassins discovers that Rayla has defied him. Again. But when they find her, she’s bleeding out in the woods with precious cargo under her arm and face to face with the princes of Katolis running away from their own castle. They find that, upon this meeting, the die has already been cast.

Rating: T

–

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Typically, he tried not to concern himself with the business of others.

Ram tried not to act too strange when he wandered toward Rayla’s general training space. What was he going to say? He should say nothing, but Skor put him up to this and Ram’s curiosity got the better of him, as usual.

Rayla wasn’t happy considering the way she was training and sulking.

Her brow furrowed from more than concentration. He treaded lightly.

“Your form is a little aggressive today,” he said. “Don’t you think you might want to rest?”

“Not really,” she grumbled. When the world irritated her that’s usually what she did.

Ram found something else to look at when she glanced at him. And he called himself an assassin. Fearsome and deadly.

That was definitely him.

“... where’s Callum?”

She threw her sword harder. “With Claudia.”

“The dark mage?”

Rayla made a less than friendly sound, but that was about as much affirmation as he would get. Ram let her be, winding his way back to his room with Skor.

Skor raised his brows. “Well?”

“Well, she’s mad and you’re right. He’s with the mage.” Ram shut the door behind him. “You don’t suppose Rayla’s upset he’s with the dark mage rather than he’s with the dark mage?”

Skor frowned. “There’s a difference?”

“Yes, of course. Well... maybe. The question is, who is she upset with? Is she upset that she’s with him or is she upset that he’s with her?”

“Make some focking sense, man. I have a headache.”

“My point,” Ram said, finding a chair. “Is that Rayla’s mad because of how she feels about Callum. Why else would she be angry?”

That much was obvious. More than obvious at this point. Those two were inseparable, and it surprised him that Runaan hadn’t noticed it. Ram pitied the boy when Runaan finally noticed. But Runaan was busy, his mind on the egg and, when not on the egg, his mind was on Anarr. His past and present issues with Anarr.

He doubted anyone would tolerate a human and an elf falling in love in such a precarious situation. Let alone Rayla falling for a human. Runaan’s opinion on humans wasn’t a secret. Nor was it a rare one. Far from it, in fact.

But Ram admitted that this human didn’t inspire any ire in his heart. The boy’s brother was also quite the opposite, and there was little doubt of Andromeda’s love for him. Runaan allowed it. Perhaps as a mercy or a crack in an assassin’s heart.

And Callum saved Callisto’s life. That hadn’t gone unnoticed by any of them.

Least of all by Callisto.

“Of course she’s angry that Callum is with the girl.”

Ram pursed his lips. “...do you think he likes the girl?”

“That’s not really our concern.”

“Isn’t it? I mean... it could impede the mission.”

Skor paused and searched Ram’s face. His nosy, curious face. Something shifted in his features to thoughtfulness. “It’s... possible. I can’t imagine why, but he grew up with the girl.”

“But you’ve seen the way he looks at Rayla.”

“And I’ve seen the way he holds her. I’ve been in love. I know what it looks like, even on young souls like them.”

“What are you two talking about?”

Raising their heads, Callisto was walking in, Andromeda trailing behind them.

“Nothing I’m sure you’re not aware of. You followed them in Meraxia. Am I supposed to believe they got lost on the way back?” Skor asked.

“I know what I saw. I want to make it home alive and chose not to mention it,” Callisto said.

“You hoped it would go away.”

Callisto had no reply. He had hoped, Ram realized. To spare them all the gracious experience of dealing with it.

And telling Runaan.

“You’ve seen the way they are with each other,” Ram said. “They have true feelings for one another.”

Andromeda crossed her arms. “Why are you encouraging this? It’s not as if they could be together once we’re in Xadia. It’s best if this passes by quietly.”

Skor scoffed. “Yes, ignore the growing feelings of two teenagers and hope it goes away. Every story that ever happened in went so well.”

“It would never be accepted in The Silvergrove.”

“You can’t wish away what they feel, Andromeda. Try it and tell me how it goes for you.”

Callisto raised a brow. “Since when were you such a romantic?”

“I’m not,” Skor shrugged. “I’m a realist. I don’t want us all to die because of their hormones.”

“Oh?” Andromeda said. “So, you will tell Runaan?”

One look between them all and they knew nobody would do anything of the sort without good cause. Too many problems on his shoulders and too little patience to deal with a situation so delicate.

Not that he’d ever dealt with feelings well, including his own.

It was no secret that Ethari had disagreed with Rayla’s placement on this mission. She had proven herself though. Ram wondered at what cost, but she had proven herself nonetheless. This life wasn’t for everyone.

Still, she was one of them.

“We keep quiet,” Callisto finally said. “We keep an eye out. We interfere when it might put us in danger. Nothing else concerns us.”

Skor just sat back, watching Callisto with unreadable eyes. “You keep telling yourself that.”

-:-:-:-

His hair.

His stupid hair.

Callum tried to keep it down with a bit of water, which only made him look dangerously close to a sopping idiot. If he could just keep some stray ends down, that would be enough.

But to no avail. He was going to lose this fight.

In the mirror, Callum saw a boy he maybe knew. Finally, a date with Claudia. A team of assassins as his travelling party. Xadia as his destination.

Three things he never expected.

At least, with Claudia he always hoped, and hope came through for him. This was a silver lining, at least.

Well, one of them anyway. Rayla had been the highlight of his days this past month. He thought about leaving her another letter.

Later, though. For now, he had to focus on the task at hand. Trying not to look like a complete idiot in front of Claudia might be a tall order in his experience, but he would do his best to just have a good time.

Tonight, he wanted a nice date.

Nevermind how different he felt from a month ago and how unlike himself he would probably feel in an hour. A shell of another life he wanted and still wants, but didn’t know how to have.

His mind raced with the possibilities.

“You know, Claudia probably wont’ care if your hair is nice or not.”

Callum jumped and twisted in Ezran’s direction.

“Ez!” Callum laughed nervously. “I thought you were with the egg?”

“I was, but I just needed a break. Lujanne’s doing a good job at keeping it alive. I’m talking to it too, and it’s responding, but... she says I should rest. She says I’m doing a pretty good job. Even Andromeda thinks so!”

“That’s great, Ez,” Callum said sincerely. “I’m proud of you. You’re really putting your all into this.”

Ezran sat on the bed, a small, maybe sad smile. “Thanks... I hope it helps. In the end, I just want to help. Maybe make a difference that feels real.”

Callum sat next to Ezran and pulled him into a hug. “I get what you mean. We finally have a chance to rest and all I can think about is what things were like before.”

“They’re never going to be the same, huh?” Ezran peered up at him. Callum’s face fell. Ezran smiled. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know it won’t. Sometimes, I just wish. Everything’s so different now. I kind of don’t know what’s going to happen next.”

“Are you afraid?”

Ezran nodded. “... what if they don’t make jelly tarts in Xadia?”

Callum laughed, even as Ezran blinked his tears away. His own eyes couldn’t help but sting. “It’s going to be okay, Ez. No matter what. We’re going to be okay. I promise.”

Ezran hugged him back. “Thanks, Callum... shouldn’t you get going for your date?”

“I will. You’re more important first. That hasn’t changed.”

After Ezran left, Callum looked at the rune book on the vanity. Maybe... maybe Claudia would know what this spell did. He hadn’t looked back at it lately, with everything going on the past day or two, but it drew him in. His instincts beckoned him to try performing it.

He grabbed the book on the way out, then changed his mind and returned it to the vanity. No, not the entire book. That would stay with him. He tore out a piece of paper from his sketchbook and wrote the spell down.

He could just tell her he heard about it on the way from Katolis.

There was a part of him against her knowing he took her father’s book. He hated lying to Claudia, but somehow found it necessary. Just this once.

Since when did he justify lying?

Things kept going back to that same sentiment. It was running through his mind and Ezran’s mind.

Everything was different now.

-:-:-:-

Runaan didn’t expect the elder prince to come see the egg.

He was no fool. He knew the boy avoided him.

Good.

Runaan had too many things on his mind to bear the weight of Callum’s conscious as well. It wasn’t as if Runaan wasn’t aware of Callum’s action. But he never turned an eye to them unless it required his attention.

That was why it piqued his interest when Prince Callum showed up. They were silent for a time. Runaan didn’t greet him. Callum didn’t either, but he broke the silence.

“I wanted to see the egg. Ezran said Lujanne’s doing her best.”

“Lujanne’s efforts have tired her. She can’t continue to keep the egg alive.”

Callum frowned. “But isn’t it helping?”

“Lujanne is no miracle worker. She can only do what she can do. The egg’s life depends on the strength of its will to live.”

Life.

“How does that make sense? It’s only an egg.”

Runaan didn’t look at him. “Lujanne has more things she can try. She is doing the best she can and the egg lives. For now. We’re running out of time and none of us know what else to do. Believe me, I would take any measure to save Xadia’s future, but I cannot create a miracle.”

The silence between them was deadening.

“... but you can take a life.”

Runaan still didn’t look at him.

He sighed. “How can you do it so easily?”

Runaan frowned. “If you believe that it’s easy to take a life, then you know nothing. You know nothing about my culture, my people. You know nothing about me.”

“You know nothing about me and I’m sure you have your assumptions.”

“I admit I had my misgivings about you because you’re human. Just as you had — have your assumptions about me. I’ve ceased to assume anything about you. It seems your assumptions reach beyond me.”

“What do you mean?”

This time, Runaan turned to him. “You believe it is easy for me to take a life. That you believe it is easy for any of us tells me enough of what you may or may not understand. Even years later, it is still not something I take lightly.” Runaan glowered at him. “Life is precious. Life is valuable. We take it, but we do not take it lightly.”

Callum opened his mouth to reply. He said nothing and closed it.

The boy knew what he knew. Runaan would not pretend that he was perfect and didn’t give the boy less credit than perhaps he should. He tried not to think about the human prince.

Runaan turned away from him. “Be sure your friends don’t make any trouble.”

-:-:-:-

The moon was shining bright and white on the stone. He could see Claudia dressed in dark robes, even from a distance. Her hair was up, an ivory flower tucked into her bun.

Callum saw her for what she was: living poetry. His heart thumped with impatience. Nervousness. Glee.

Making sure his hair was as neat as he could get it, he approached her, the spell in his pocket.

Claudia turned to him and smiled when she saw him.

“... beautiful...” The word left Callum’s mouth before he caught himself. “I-isn’t it? It’s a beautiful night.”

Claudia laughed. “It is. The moonlight is perfect.”

It was. For once, everything seemed perfect. More than perfect when Claudia took his hand and squeezed it. He had to remember to squeeze it back.

“As amazing as these ruins are,” she said, looking around. “Are you going to take me to the nexus or are we just going to stand here looking at each other?”

“O-oh! Right, of course—”

“Not that I would mind the other thing as well.”

Callum’s face was warm. “Let’s go. You really have to see this.”

Hand in hand, Callum kept Claudia’s in his since she seemed more than happy to let him take the lead. All this time, he’d always been the one to follow her. Where she went, he wanted to be. Now, it appeared to be mutual.

Hadn’t he waited his entire life for this?

His heartbeat and giddiness jumped from nerve to nerve. It was a fight to keep himself from fidgeting too much.

What would Rayla tell him?

She would tell him not to be so nervous, obviously. Everything seemed so obvious to her. Then, she might say his name.

Rayla would make him look at her and tell him it would be okay.

And he’d believe her.

She didn’t have to do anything to make him believe her.

Gathering some courage, Callum looked at Claudia and smiled. “So... you know a lot of spells, don’t you?”

This was as good a time as any to ask, right? He needed something to talk about. Anything.

“Oh, I know a ton. Fancy some dark magic while we’re out here? I always have a thing or two on me to—”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Callum laughed. She almost seemed disappointed, but kept listening. “I just have something I, uh— I found this spell while we were on our travels. I was wondering if you knew what it was.”

They were almost to the nexus, but Callum stopped them and pulled out the spell from his pocket. The rune was slightly complicated, but nothing he couldn’t remember and replicate. Still, it differed from the others.

Claudia raised her brows. “Oh, wow. Where did you find this?”

“Just, uh, in this town. I was in their library and—”

“This rune starts a storm. I’ve never used it. Don’t know how, even though I used to try as a kid. It’s a hefty bit of magic. My father told me about it and showed me once.”

He resisted the urge to gulp.

But Claudia gave it back to him without even so much as an odd look. If anything, she looked impressed. “I guess your travels haven’t been all bad, have they?”

“No,” he said, taking her hand again and bringing her up the stairs to the nexus. “Especially not when I can see things like this.”

They reached the top of the stairs, and Claudia gasped. Pooling moonlight filled the lake, reflecting the moon itself in the water and bringing the sky to them. It was the perfect scenery. The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He used to look at the moon and see something in the sky that was pretty, but now he looked at it as something comforting.

When he saw the full moon, he felt safe. Not just from danger, but from everything that could take him away from himself.

The moon was his anchor.

Why, he didn’t know.

Maybe he did, but he tried not to think about it when he was trying to watch Claudia’s expression. Her face was flushed, her eyes sparkled with delight and wonder. She grew closer to the edge, resting her hands on the stone in front of her.

“I... I’m speechless.”

“I came here during the day, but never at night,” Callum said. He looked at the lake. “Incredible, isn’t it?”

“It’s beautiful, Callum.”

“...do you think all of Xadia is like this?”

Claudia turned to him. Her face wasn’t unpleasant, but... unreadable. Then, she smiled. “I’m sure there are similar places. There’s a lot of magic in Xadia. Sometimes, it makes me sad.”

Callum frowned. “Sad? Why?”

She shook her head. “Because humans can’t see any of it. We’re not allowed. Even now that Thunder is dead, Xadia would never share their magic with us.”

Callum laughed a bit. She gave him a questionable look. “No, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just... I understand now. I never did before, but elves don’t see magic as theirs to share or keep. Protect, maybe. But it’s not like money to them. Does that make sense? They are magic. It’s a part of them. Even to those who aren’t mages. It’s just... part of their identity.”

Claudia blinked. Her face broke into a smile. “Callum, the way you view the world... it’s so different.”

“Good different?”

She took his hand. “Yeah. I think so. You should share some of it with me. Imagine the things we could do.”

Callum’s mind paused. But he drew closer to Claudia. He didn’t smile. “I’ve... done some bad things.”

“What do you mean?”

His shoulders hunched. “I... Lady Eveline. She knew my mother. I knew her. We used to go to Meraxia when we were kids and... I killed her. I-I didn’t mean it. I didn’t want to. She was horrible. She was a monster. But she wasn’t always like that and I can’t stop hearing her die. I want it to stop.”

Her brows furrowed. “Callum... I’m so sorry. You’ve been through so much. That wasn’t your fault. You... I don’t like it, but I don’t blame you for trying to get out of there. You shouldn’t either.”

“But what I did to her... it breaks my heart.”

“She was going to kill you, Callum. Don’t let her hurt you like this. She’s gone and she can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Shouldn’t it though?”

“Shouldn’t it what?”

Callum looked at her. His eyes stung. “Break my heart.”

Claudia closed the gap between them. “I know that’s how it feels, but... I don’t think so.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. What to do. His stirrings inside didn’t... they didn’t feel right.

But looking into Claudia’s eyes that instinct quieted . They were beautiful. She was beautiful. And the way she looked at him made him draw closer to her. He didn’t know what that look was. Not in words, anyway, but he knew it meant something. That something had drawn him closer to her, Claudia’s eyes closed.

They were so close he could feel her breathing, her sweet breath tickling his nose.

He just about dipped in for a kiss—

Her lips. They were right there.

He’d waited for this moment almost his entire life.

Callum closed his eyes and leaned forward.

He stopped.

-:-:-:-

Rayla sat on a boulder under the tree near her room when Callum found her. His chest tightened, but the storm was quiet in there. It stilled when he saw her sitting just out of the moonlight. Not that he needed the light. He knew Rayla’s form no matter where she was.

She heard him as he approached her and sat on the twin rock beside her.

She didn’t look at him. “How was your date?”

“... fine,” he said, fixating on a spot in the grass. He glanced at her. “We were going to, uh... kiss.”

She shifted. “Oh.”

“I couldn’t do it.”

She looked at him sharply, a question on her face.

“I couldn’t do it,” he said again.

“You couldn’t?”

Callum shook his head. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it. When I closed my eyes I... I only saw your face.”

They locked eyes for a moment, the night and moon wrapped around them. The moments before he’d kissed Claudia were the most surreal in his life, and then it simply... didn’t happen.

And it didn’t upset him in the least.

Rayla’s face softened, a small, pleased smile on her face. “Good.”

Callum’s lips curved in a returning smile, but it dropped. He looked away. “Rayla, I’m sorry for calling you a liar and a murderer. I should have never said that to you.”

“You were right.”

“No, I wasn’t,” he insisted. “I was wrong. I-I wasn’t even really mad at you. I was mad at myself. I’ve felt so guilty for killing Lady Eveline that I just— I don’t know. It’s been tearing me up inside and I hate how I hear her death in my head sometimes. I keep hearing the moment she hit the ground. But she was going to hurt us. Hurt you. I didn’t feel like I had a choice.”

When Callum met her eyes again, they were bright with tears. “Callum... I am so sorry for what happened to you. I never wanted that for you to feel like it was something you had to do. For me or for anyone. I still think about the people I killed.”

“Runaan says it’s still hard. Even for him.”

“You talked to Runaan?”

“Kind of,” he said. “As much as I know how to talk to him, I suppose. I — You were going to get hurt. And I care about you a lot. Too much to just do nothing. All I know is that I wanted to protect you. Even if it’s not something I want to do, it’s a principle. I can’t just let you die. If I was put in the same situation, I would do it again because I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Rayla looked up at the sky. “Honestly? I don’t know what I’m doing either, and I’ve been training for this my entire life. The first night I really met you? I cried to Runaan about it. It bothers me. It still bothers me, and I know it bothers you, too. I think it’s supposed to. Runaan says as much.”

There was a comfortable pause between them.

He took a breath.

“I trust you, Rayla,” he said. “I trust your judgement. I understand now. At least, more than I used to. I can't imagine what it was like to be raised as an assassin, but it couldn’t have been easy. It's not easy for me to justify killing Eveline, but I know why I did it. If I could have found another way, I would have. But I didn't see another way out. I don't think you’re a murderer. I would never think that of you.”

Rayla looked at him with wide, teary eyes.

“I know you’re just trying to protect us. And I’m glad I have someone to talk to about this.”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m still sorry you had to do it. You didn’t choose that.”

“I did. I just never thought I would.”

“I know.”

Callum took her by the hand. She squeezed it.

The tightness in his chest relieved, he said to her. “I have something I want to show you.”

–

Please consider reviewing on AO3

[kitkatwinchester]

Hooray! My first little drabble on Tumblr! And it’s all thanks to @misinterpretedmythology​ and this amazing incorrect quote! Thank you for letting me write this fic! <3 

Hope you all enjoy! <3 

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

It had seemed like such a good plan.

Being the billionaire in the group, Tony’s always been in charge of the grocery shopping. But no matter how many people check his list before he leaves, someone always has a last-minute request that he forgets, or doesn’t like the particular brand of cereal he buys, or needs a bigger box of crackers--whatever it is, it’s always something. 

So it only made sense, in Tony’s mind, to finally put his foot down and make everyone come shopping with him. 

He should’ve known. 

Nothing’s ever that easy. 

“Three dollars for eggs?!” Steve exclaims from a few feet away. “How is that possible?” 

Tony runs a hand down his face, groaning. 

“I already explained this to you, Cap--”

“Then explain to me again why milk is four dollars a gallon!” Steve interrupts, clearly increasingly frustrated. 

“Inflation, Steve,” Tony tries again, despite having already had this conversation on the way here. “Prices rise and fall as the economy changes. It’s been seventy years! Did you really think prices weren’t going to change in all that time?” 

“Yes!” Steve says, angrily slamming the door to the milk. “I never would have been able to afford that!” Tony sighs in response. 

“Again, people make more money now, so things are more expensive. That’s how this--” Tony doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as Peter comes racing down the hall, riding on the back of a cart filled with--is that instant ramen? 

“Mr. Stark, they have a new shrimp flavor!” Tony looks at Peter, then back down at the cart. Sure enough, there are a good forty packets of shrimp instant ramen stacked on top of each other. 

“Kid, that has no nutrition at all. I can’t let you get all of those. Your aunt would kill me.” Peter frowns at him, putting on his best puppy dog face. 

“But Mr. Staaaark, it’s shrimp! I’ve never had that flavor before!” Tony raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Okay, but since when do you like shrimp?” 

“Since it was a flavor for instant ramen.” Tony gives him his famous “really” look before responding. 

“Wow, that totally convinces me,” he says, voice laced with sarcasm. Clearly, Peter doesn’t hear it, because he looks up at him hopefully. 

“Really?” 

“No,” Tony immediately responds. “Put them back.” Peter frowns at him, and the dejected look on his kid’s face almost makes Tony back down, but he stands his ground, pointing down the aisle. Eventually, Peter obliges, turning the cart around and moping back to the ramen aisle. Tony rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the fond smile that makes its way onto his face before he turns back to Steve. 

“Now, as I was saying--” 

“Who wants bacon?!” Nat’s voice calls from several aisles down, interrupting Tony yet again. 

“What the fu--” he starts to whisper before the rest of the Avengers chorus “mes” from various parts of the store. In response, Tony sees several other customers turning their heads in various directions, clearly trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

Me too, people, Tony thinks to himself, mumbling apologies at the few people he passes as he tries to find Natasha. Just as he gets close to the aisle he thinks she’s in, another voice rings out even louder than hers. 

“I’M A SLUT FOR BACON!” Clint practically screams, and Tony freezes in his tracks, facepalming so hard his forehead stings. 

Why on earth did I think this was a good idea??

He picks up the pace again, turning the corner to see Clint and Natasha giggling to themselves as they grab package after package of bacon. 

“Are you crazy?” Tony grumbles, stomping his way over. “This is a public place. There are other people here! You two are spies for crying out loud! I’d expect you to be a little more inconspicuous!” 

Nat and Clint look at him, then at each other, and then Nat turns back to him with a smirk.

“You’re one to talk, Stark.” Tony looks at her, annoyed, but eventually just rolls his eyes. 

“Fine. Point taken. Just...grab the bacon and let’s go, okay?” Tony makes his way back down the aisle, and just as he turns the corner, he practically runs into Bruce. 

“Oh, Tony, hey,” Bruce greets, arms filled with several boxes of tea. “I was just about to come find you. Which one of these do you think I should get?” He lifts up the load in his arms. “I mean they're all good, but this brand is cheaper,” he continues, nodding to the two boxes in his right hand. 

“Billionaire, Bruce,” Tony replies with a sigh. “Just, pick one.” However, he can’t help the smile that settles on his face. At least somebody is slightly manageable. 

He barely finishes that thought when Thor comes barreling down the aisle, holding two carts above his head. 

“Friend, Tony! We shall feast tonight on the Pop of Tarts!” Tony stares at him, then at the carts swinging precariously above his head. 

“What the--why do you have two carts of poptarts?! And why are you carrying them? You’re supposed to push the carts!” Thor looks at him and gives him a confused frown. 

“But I can carry them. Why would I push them?” Tony groans and runs a hand down his face again. 

“You know what, forget it. Where did Peter and Steve go?” As if on cue, Steve and Peter both simultaneously call out from several aisles away. 

“Tony, how do you get milk from an almond?” 

“Mr. Stark, can we get cheese sticks too?” 

Before Tony can answer either of them, there is a cacophony of sound as everyone starts talking at once. 

“What about pudding?” Nat. 

“Fuck your pudding!” Clint. 

“But it’s chocolate!” Nat again. 

“Mr. Stark cheetos are on sale!” Peter.

“Can we afford tea cookies too?” Bruce.

“Almonds don’t have milk, do they?” Steve. 

“There are so many flavors of these Pop of Tarts! I must get more.” Thor.

“Okay well what about fruit snacks?” 

“What are you, five?” 

“Mr. Stark Mr. Stark! Buy one get one free for cookies!” 

“We can afford tea cookies. I’m sure we have a coupon somewhere.” 

“How do I carry a third cart?” 

“HOW DO YOU MILK AN ALMOND, TONY??!!” 

He can’t take this. 

“EVERYBODY SHUT UP!” he screams, and to his surprise, the chatter stops, and all heads turn his way--including several heads that do not belong to his very annoying team. 

“Look,” he starts, not wanting to waste their attention while he has it. “Whatever you want, fine. Get a cart, a basket, whatever and just put the stuff in, and bring it up front. I don’t care what it is, I don’t care how much it costs. Just do it and go.” He can already feel the protests and the questions, and he quickly addresses everything. 

“Nat and Clint, get separate carts if you have to, but if you’re gonna bicker, do it quietly and while making your way to the check-out line. Peter, I really don’t wanna condone unhealthy eating, but if you insist on getting chips and cookies, at least try to find ones that you know other people in the compound will eat. And whatever you do, don’t tell your aunt. Yes, Bruce, we can afford tea cookies, and please do not worry about the coupons. Just put them in the cart. Thor, you really don’t need three carts of poptarts, but if you really really must, have Peter help you push the third one. And Steve--almonds do have milk, but they have to be soaked in water first. I don’t really know the process, but if you wanna try the milk, put it in the cart. If you don’t, put it back. Everyone got that?” 

By the time Tony finishes, he is out of breath and even more frustrated, but to his relief, there are several nods before everyone eventually disperses, grabbing various items and putting them in their own carts and baskets. Tony takes a few wonderful minutes to collect himself, but it’s quickly interrupted by a small voice from behind him. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter mumbles, clearly trying to be as conscientious as possible, and despite his frustrations, Tony doesn’t have the heart to be mad at him. 

“What’s up, kid?” Peter responds by holding up three packs of cookies, a sheepish grin on his face. 

“Do you think everyone would like chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, or peanut butter more?” Tony can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, and he reaches down to ruffle Peter’s hair. 

“You know what, bud, just get all three. What the hell?” Peter grins happily and tosses them in his basket before happily skipping in the direction of the check-out line. 

Alright, Tony thinks to himself. Maybe this whole endeavor wasn’t so bad after all. 

But, of course, as Tony turns the corner to the check-out line, he sighs yet again at seeing the chaos that is the rest of the team, fighting over who gets to have their items scanned first while the poor sales clerk looks on in confused horror. 

With a lot of yelling and even more pushing, as well as several comments of “stop being such a dad, Tony,” he finally manages to get all of the groceries scanned and paid for and all of the Avengers out of the store and as far away as possible. 

As they make their way out the door, the chatter starts almost as quickly as it had stopped, and Tony pauses, stopping an employee as she’s walking towards one of the counters. 

“Please tell me you guys have a delivery service,” he says, and to his relief, she nods, pulling a small card out of her pocket with information on how to order groceries. 

“Thank you,” Tony says gratefully, giving the paper a once-over. 

Never again, he thinks to himself as he pockets the card. I am never ever doing this again. 

[imjustthemechanic]

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four Part 13/? - Resolute Part 14/? - The Wreck Part 15/? - Body Snatchers Part 16/? - Out of the Frying Pan Part 17/? - A Miracle Part 18/? - A Matter of Circumstance Part 19/? - Nome Part 20/? - The Future Part 21/? - A Hero’s Welcome Part 22/? - Up to Speed Part 23/? - Expect Further Delays

Did we need more angst?  Of course we did.

-

Peggy was terrified that Masters would whisk Steve away again and that she wouldn’t get a chance to talk to him, leaving her kissing Daniel on the cheek to be the last thing he saw of her for a long time.  It was Howard, of all people, who came to the rescue.  He popped out from behind Steve and put his own possessive arm around his friend’s shoulders.

Well, before we send Captain Rogers off on his whirlwind tour, I think he’s earned a home-cooked meal,” said Howard.  “Come and eat at my house, Steve.  Jarvis is a fantastic cook and I’ll have him do you up a special dessert.”

“As a matter of fact, Steve,” said Masters, “Mayor Bowron was hoping to treat you tonight…”

“Tell him that’s very thoughtful, Mr. Masters, but Howard asked first, and he’s an old friend,” Steve said.  “I’ll have lots of time to have dinner with politicians later.”

“Oh, but…” Masters began.

“You heard the Captain!” said Howard triumphantly.  “My place it is.  What are you hungry for?  Don’t tell me – good old fashioned steak and potatoes, right?  Although Jarvis does a great duck confit…”

A voice spoke from somewhere near Peggy’s shoulder.  “What if he caught his tie on something,” Kay said, “and accidentally hanged himself?”

Peggy looked down at her with a frown.

“He could slam it in the trunk of a car and get dragged down the road,” Kay said thoughtfully.  “Or he could drown in the bathtub.  Soapy water actually drowns you faster because with the surface tension broken, the water can get into all the little individual sacs in the lungs.”

“Please don’t tempt me,” said Peggy.

- 

Howard also extended dinner invitations to Peggy, to Kay, and to Jason, and so that night all five of them sat down around the very long table in Howard’s dining room for several courses of Mr. Jarvis’ excellent cooking.  Steve was obviously relieved, not only that he got to spend the evening with friends instead of strangers, but that he was in a setting where nobody would judge his appetite.  Since getting the serum he’d been able to eat enough for four people, and he didn’t like dining in restaurants where people would be surprised and uncomfortable when he asked for third helpings.

“He’s got a whole tour planned for me,” Steve said, pouring gravy on his potatoes. “It’s going to be like selling war bonds all over again.”

“War’s over,” Howard pointed out.  “We won.  Tell him you want to go home.”

“I did,” said Steve, “but I don’t really have a home to go back to, do I? I’ve been dead for three years.”

Peggy looked at her plate.  The home he would have had after he war was the one he and she were going to build together.

“He said I could refuse if I wanted,” Steve went on, “but I’d be disappointing a lot of kids who never got to meet their hero, and that national unity is especially important with the USSR gaining power and I would be an important symbol for people to rally behind.  And then,” he added, “he said he would see about getting me re-activated, since I was discharged dead by mistake.”

Peggy took a breath in, but it was more in sympathy for Steve than shock that Masters would stoop to that.  Vernon Masters was the sort of politician who didn’t care what kind of rules he had to bend to get what he wanted.  If Steve wouldn’t take orders, he would put him in a position where he had no choice.

“Can he do that?” asked Howard.

Steve, whose mouth was full, shrugged.

“He’ll definitely try,” Peggy said.

“Not if he gets his head stuck in an elevator door and is decapitated by the moving cab,” said Kay tranquilly.

Steve stared at her.

“Ignore her,” Peggy told him.  “She’s been doing that all day.  What did he say when you asked if we could go with you to New York?”

“I didn’t, exactly,” said Steve.  “I told him he shouldn’t be taking the credit for finding me when it was you four who did the work.  Then he said that he didn’t mean to leave you out, and he would insist on Peggy and Miss Lake coming at least to New York with us.”

“He never mentioned Jason and me,” Howard put in, “but I won’t let him leave us out, either.  It was my plane and Jason’s sonar.  Would have taken us weeks, even with the coordinates, if we hadn’t had those.”

“That was very accommodating of him,” said Kay.  “You should see what else you can get from him.  Tell him you always wanted a pony when you were a child.”

“I don’t want a pony,” Steve told her.

“I do,” said Kay.  “Getting kicked in the face by a horse is a pretty good accidental death.”

Steve glanced at her, then took Peggy’s advice and said nothing.  “I don’t know if I can do it,” he said.  “I don’t know if I can run around waving at crowds when I know Bucky’s out there and he needs help.”

This time, Peggy didn’t manage to avoid him catching her eye.  He was remembering that rainy day when Peggy and Howard had helped him go AWOL and enter enemy territory to rescue his friend. He was wondering if they were willing to do it a second time, or even if he had any right to ask it of them.

“I’m sorry,” said Kay.

“It’s not your…” Steve began automatically.

“Yes, it is,” Kay interrupted him.  “I came here to change the past, remember?  What I’ve changed it to is making you miserable, so I’m sorry.  I didn’t plan this far ahead.  I figured I’d get you defrosted and then I could interrogate Underwood and we’d go save Barnes.  I didn’t plan on anybody butting in, and I didn’t plan on you having other obligations afterwards.  Maybe I should have.”

“Unfortunately, none of us can see the future… evidently not even somebody who’s been there,” said Peggy.

There was an uncomfortable silence after that.  Howard was the one who broke it.  “So Jason… what was it you were saying about the gyros on the stabilizer?”

“It’s the landing gear,” Jason said immediately, glad to help change the subject. “It shakes the rear gyro just enough to knock it out of alignment.  We need to move the whole rig a little further forward on the plane, but that’ll make it harder to access from inside, so I was thinking…”

The two of them spent the rest of the meal talking shop, and after a dessert of apple tart tatin they wandered off to Howard’s workshop to draw up some new blueprints and tinker.  That left Peggy, Steve, and Kay to have after dinner drinks with Edwin and Anna.

“A great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain Rogers,” Anna said happily.  “I’ve heard a lot about you from Edwin and Mr. Stark, of course, but that’s just not the same thing.  You are every bit as handsome as you looked in the newsreels.”

“Oh. Thank you,” said Steve uncomfortably. “Howard did tell me about you two, as well.  I’m glad it worked out for you.”  He was, however, looking over Anna’s shoulder at Peggy.

Anna Jarvis was far to observant to let that slip by.  “Edwin,” she said, “why don’t we let Captain Rogers and Peggy have a word, hmm?  They must have been dying for a private moment all evening.”  She winked at Peggy as she took her husband’s arm.

“And you can tell me where you got that beautiful brooch,” Kay added, joining them on their way out of the room.

“This?  It was my mother’s, as a matter of fact,” Anna said.

Then finally, Peggy and Steve were alone, and Peggy felt terribly ashamed of herself.  She should have told him right away, as soon as he was awake in the infirmary on the Valiant.  Failing that, she’d had plenty of time to say something since.  There was simply no excuse for finding herself in this situation. Kay was not the one who ought to be apologizing.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I ought to have said something.”

“Well… I was gone for three years,” said Steve.  His voice was hesitant.  He still didn’t quite believe it, did he?  “I should have figured…”

“Steve,” said Peggy.

He stopped talking, and waited for her.  It made her wish she knew what to say.

Peggy licked her lips.  “I already told Daniel, and now I’m telling you, that I’m going to need a bit of time to figure this out.  Finding you wasn’t something I could plan for.  When Kay told me where you were, I assumed I’d be bringing you back for burial. She didn’t tell me you were alive, because I wouldn’t have believed her if she had.  I was as unprepared as anybody.”

Steve nodded.  There was another moment of terrible silence.

“Do you, uh…” he began.

“Of course I love him,” Peggy said.  “But that doesn’t mean I’m not still in love with you.  And it must be bloody obvious that I am, because Daniel thought I was just going to run off with you right away.”

She chanced a look at Steve, and found him standing there awkwardly, hands behind his back, looking at the carpet at her feet.

Peggy thought back on the plans they’d made.  They’d been going to buy a farm.  Before the serum Steve would have been utterly incapable of farm work, and he’d known it.  He’d wanted to get out of the city and work the land in a way he’d always been told was impossible, and Peggy had been longing for peace after years at war… it had seemed like the perfect working retirement for both of them.  That, too, had changed.

“I do know that the farm… we’re not going to be able to do that,” she said. “I want to keep working.  I don’t think I’d do very well, knowing the kind of threats that are out there and not being involved in doing something about them.”

“I understand,” said Steve.

Of course he did… that was what he’d been talking about at dinner, how he didn’t like the idea of going on a publicity tour while his friend was in pain.

“Besides that, I really don’t know what I want right now,” said Peggy, “and I need to be sure before I make any big decisions, because I don’t want to end up regretting it.  You understand that, right?”

“Yeah.  I do,” said Steve.

“Good, I’m glad,” Peggy nodded.  “Thank you.” For a moment she had a mad desire to go up and kiss him on the cheek, as she had Daniel earlier.  That would have been fair: a kiss for each of them.  She quashed it, however, because she realized that wasn’t true.  It wouldn’t be fair at all to string either of them along, never mind both, not fair to Steve and Daniel and definitely not fair to Peggy.  She could not divide herself between them.  The Judgment of Solomon was not intended as romantic advice.

“I guess I don’t have anything to do but go on Mr. Masters’ tour…” Steve began.

Peggy looked up sharply.  “Steve, I said I needed time, not that I’m abandoning you.  Howard and I helped you save your friend once.  If you need us, we’ll do it again.  I still have faith in you.”  She took Steve’s hands and stepped closer to him – this was not a romantic gesture, she told herself, she was merely reassuring a dear friend that she was there for him.  She was allowed to do that.  “Since we’re allowed to come with you to New York, we’ll do that, and we’ll see if we can have a word with Dottie and find out what Kay thinks she needs to know.”

Steve squeezed her hands tight.  “I don’t know if I trust her,” he said.

“Neither do I, but she’s the only lead we have on this,” Peggy replied.

“Who is Dottie?” Steve asked.  “I’ve heard you mentioning her but nobody’s told me…”

“Oh, that’s a story you’d better sit down for.”  Peggy led him over to a chair.  “In fact, it’s all the more important for you to know, because she comes from the same place as Kay does, though apparently for very different reasons.”

The Jarvises and Kay remained chatting on the back patio while Peggy told the story to Steve – but Howard and Jason eventually reappeared.  They found Peggy in the middle of the tale of how they’d gotten a sample of Zero Matter from Whitney Frost.  Jason didn’t want to interrupt, but Howard, with his usual lack of anything resembling tact,  pulled a bottle of whiskey out of the roll-back desk and asked, “so how are the lovebirds?”

Peggy winced.  “Trying to have a serious discussion of what Steve’s missed in the past three years,” she said.  “That’s how.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” said Howard, pouring drinks for himself and Jason.

“I wasn’t about to, but then you spoke,” Peggy said dryly.

Steve shook his head with a smile as Howard and Jason headed outside to join the others.  “He hasn’t changed at all, has he?”

“Not a bit,” said Peggy.  “Have I?” The question slipped out and she immediately regretted it.  What if she didn’t like the answer?

“I don’t know yet,” he replied.

Peggy knew that was a lie.  She’d just told him she didn’t want to be a farmer’s wife anymore, and that was most certainly a change.  Or was it? Even if things had gone the way they’d planned, would she eventually have gotten restless and tired of country life?

They were starting all over, weren’t they?  They’d just met, and now had to figure out who the other was, and Steve, as much as Peggy, was going to need some time to do that while Daniel… Daniel, unfortunately, would just have to wait.

[satoruverse]

au! baker gojo x bookstore owner getou

warnings: none

wc: 2254

The snow fell softly as it crunched under the long-haired man's feet, his cheeks nice and rosy as of course it was winter. The bell rang out signifying that a customer had entered the bakery. He looked around to see decorations being put up with faint Christmas music playing in the background. One of the regulars at his bookstore always told him the fruit tart from the bakery across the street was to die for. Suguru decided that today would be the day for him to try it out, so that’s how he ended up here.

“Oi, old man someone’s here to order! Hurry up,” The girl called out before quickly turning around and instructing the two boys where to put what decorations.

This made Suguru laugh a bit to himself, but he turned around to face the counter, coming face to face with a man he did not expect, he was tall with white hair, and bright blue eyes. A quite attractive young man at that with the softest smile he’s seen in a while.

“Uh hello! Welcome to Satoru’s Bakery, how may I help you today? Sorry for the commotion, we’re setting up decorations,” He said softly. 

Suguru blinked twice, before blushing again, he was staring into the man’s eyes. 

“Oh well, I’m the owner of the bookstore across from this bakery, and I would like to buy one fruit tart please? I’ve heard they’re to die for,” Suguru said smiling back and Satoru nodded. 

“Alright, coming right up!” Satoru said while humming the song playing in the background softly. 

Suguru watches as Satoru slips on a glove and carefully slips the fruit tart into some wrapping and then into a winter themed box, taping over some doodle (drawn by Itadori) and then placing the box down while turning to the register typing in the price for the fruit tart.

“That’ll be $3.50 sir. Hello, are you alright? You seem spaced out,” Satoru says with a small laugh after. 

Suguru’s heart clenched slightly upon hearing his laughter, before he noticed he found himself laughing with the baker. He handed the money to him with a polite smile while Satoru received the nicely decorated box. Thanking Satoru quickly, he waved goodbye and went out of the shop, the same bell jingling accompanying him. 

“He was completely lost in your eyes Satoru,” Nobara said, leaning her head on her hand as she smirked up at him. 

Satoru blushed slightly, before waving her off quickly.

“Don’t you have more decor to put missy? Also, don’t call me an old man. I'm only in my late 20s,” Satoru said with a frown.

Nobara laughed a bit but nodded before turning back around to instruct Itadori and Megumi on her vision for the rest of the decorations. 

Itadori quickly put down his decoration taking the hands of Nobara and Itadori before pulling them away as Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas played. “What are you doing idiot?” Megumi asked with a sigh.

“Let’s dance together cmon,” Itadori said and the other two gave in, swaying with him slowly. 

Satoru walked in with a soft smile, taking a picture of the trio, making a mental note to print it out for the album Satoru has filled with their christmas pictures. Megumi caught Satoru looking at them and quickly pulled him over so they could all dance together. The bakery got busy again after as it was lunch time, so many people would be stopping by. The bakery was split into two, an area to eat, accompanied with an outside area as well, and where people could buy their food. After quite the busy day Satoru found himself sighing while he stretched, he had sent the kids home, he looked out the window to see the bookstore keeper locking up and making his way home, oh how he envied him. Satoru looked back making sure that the birthday cake he was making was in perfect shape, which it was of course. Once he finished, he locked up his bakery and got in his car commencing his drive home. 

Satoru slipped on his jacket calling out after Megumi, Satoru had promised to go with him to this place he’s been wanting to go for the past week. Megumi never exactly told him where it was but that it was nearby. Satoru decided to humor the boy as it was the holiday’s and the holiday spirit was quite contagious. 

“Okay, you two call me if the shop picks back up ok?” Satoru says while looking at Yuji and Nobara who nodd. 

Megumi walks out, his scarf covering half his face Satoru, who insists he bundled up as the temperature was dropping. It’s quite the short walk until they are facing the bookstore, which looks a bit lively. Megumi opens the door, Satoru follows, taking in the space, looking around. The lights were slightly dimmed in some areas, decor was simplistic, nothing too flashy fitting for a bookstore.

“Hey! How can we help you today?” A girl comes up to them with a smile on her face accompanied by what seemed to be her friend.

Megumi began chatting with her about some book while Satoru just peacefully looked around. He decided since he was here he might as well just get something for himself, but he didn’t know what.

“Hey, be careful,” A familiar voice called out, a soft warning, Satoru looked over to see the man that was in his bakery earlier that week.

They both blushed slightly, neither expecting to see the other soon. Meanwhile on the other side of the bookstore three people were busy talking. 

“I didn’t know he was a dad, you two look nothing alike?” The one with the ponytail asked, Nanako.

“Yeah, he took in my older half sister and I, she’s off in college right now though. Anyways, I’m glad you two came up with this idea. Do you think it’ll work?” Megumi asked and both girls contemplated. 

“I think it will, from what you said, Suguru couldn’t stop staring,” Mimiko said and Megumi nodded.

“I should have brought Nobara with me, she was the one to catch on after all,” Megumi and the two girls nodded.

“Well, let’s go see how they’re doing,” Nanako said and they nodded.

Satoru caught himself staring for a bit, before blushing offering a smile.

“I apologize, I actually want to buy a book but I don’t know which one, do you have any suggestions?” Satoru asked while looking around taking in the rest of the shelves.

“Well, it depends, which kind of genre would you like, Satoru?” Suguru asked softly. 

“You remember my name?” Satoru asked, blushing to which Suguru nodded.

“Yeah, I mean it says on your shop as well but, I rarely forget names. Comes as a bonus with owning the store,” Suguru said with a soft laugh after.

“Right, genre hm, I like science fiction? Like Ray Bradbury, got into him recently,” Satoru said and Suguru nodded. 

“Oh, good choice, do you want to read more of his works?” Suguru asked to which Satoru nodded his head.

Suguru with a simple gesture motioned for Satoru to follow him, the two of them making small talk, not noticing they had a few eyes trained on them.

“They seem to be hitting it off well Nobara, yeah you were right, take a picture are you insane?” Megumi whispered, his voice as hushed as he could possibly make it.

After slight back and forth he gave into Nobara’s request quickly snapping a picture of the two walking. The two girls laughed slightly, while Megumi just shot them a glance.

“I’ll bring her with me next time, I think you three would get along well,” Megumi said and they nodded. 

Soon the pair arrived at the section of shelves Suguru was looking for, he hummed quietly as his eyes roamed. Satoru watched in silence as his hand stopped pulling out a book, handing it to Satoru with a smile. Suguru’s hands felt warm as they brushed against Satoru cold ones, as it was nearly freezing outside. The book was titled the Martian Chronicles, and Satoru quickly flipped it over, scanning the brief summary in the back before looking back up with a smile.

“Well, thank you, I have to go find Megumi, I came in with him,” Satoru said and Suguru nodded slowly.

“When you go to check out, request Suguru and I will ring you up, give you a discount as well,” Suguru said and Satoru nodded, turning away quickly texting Megumi to meet him at the cash register.  

Megumi replied with a brief okay and Satoru stood waiting patiently for Megumi to show up. Once he did they both went up to pay the girl they greeted them earlier was going to check them out.

“It’s okay Nana, I can check them out,” Suguru said from behind her with a soft smile.

Megumi put his two books on the counter accompanied by Satoru’s, who began to take out his wallet to pay. Suguru wrote down something on a piece of paper, slipping it in with Satoru’s change. 

“Those are some more suggestions if you come back,” Suguru said blushing while rubbing the back of his neck with a smile.

Satoru nodded before heading back over to the shop with Megumi, slipping his change into his pocket. Satoru flipped the note over and saw that Suguru had written down his number on the back with a simple call me when you’re done. Satoru’s face flushed, which Megumi noted but decided to stay silent about it, opting to tell Nobara and Yuji when he got them alone. The bakery seemed to be buzzing, people were sitting down and chatting about the holidays while Nobara and Yuji worked to dish out orders, accompanied by another presence, Tsumiki. Megumi’s eyes widened at seeing his sister home so early, but Satoru beat him to her. He went over hugging her tightly, ruffling her hair after with a smile.

“You’re home early, sorry we weren’t here to greet you, you should have said something,” Gojo said and she smiled softly.

“It was meant to be a surprise, it’s nice to see everyone again,” She said softly, her eyes glancing over to Megumi who was behind Gojo. 

“It’s nice to see you Tsumiki,” Megumi said quietly with a nod before putting his books away. 

Gojo sighed as Megumi was always like this when his sister came back, granted the two of them had a rocky relationship after she left for college. Tsumiki just smiled softly, while asking Satoru what he needed help with within the bakery. After a few more hours of the shop being busy they soon closed, Satoru making sure to drop off Nobara and Yuji this time, as he opted to come in early in the morning to set up. The drive was silent on their way home, tension between Tsumiki and Megumi a bit higher than anticipated. Satoru knew it would be like this for the first two days and then things would be fine after so he didn’t worry much. He quickly showered when he got home, and then sat down on his bed pulling out the book he got earlier. His phone rang, he looked at the contact name, it was Shoko calling him how odd.

“Hey, everything alright?” Satoru asked, obviously surprised.

“Yeah yeah, now… WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU HAD A CRUSH?” Shoko yelled in the phone as Satoru held it away from his ear. 

Satoru was a bit confused as to what she was on about until he looked down at the paper slip he was holding in his hand, everything clicking.

“Shoko, who told you? And anyways it’s not a crush he’s just kind of handsome, you’re always pressing the gas with these things,” Satoru said with a soft sigh. 

Pressed up against his door was Tsumiki and Megumi, who had Yuji and Nobara on the line listening in on Shoko and Gojo’s conversation. 

“See I told you Goomi, it was a good idea to tell Shoko,” Yuji said with a triumphant smile.

“Alright alright, let’s all calm down so we don’t get busted,” Megumi said with a sigh.

Tsumiki had an all knowing smile on her face as she looked at the way they interacted, Satoru definitely would owe her money by the end of the holiday big time. She heard Satoru stop talking and grabbed Megumi, quickly pulling him into the kitchen. The two of them quickly began to talk, while Satoru walked into the kitchen making himself a cup of hot chocolate. 

“Don’t stay up too late, tomorrow is Saturday and you know how crazy the shop gets, off to bed c’mon,” Gojo said and the two nodded while going off into their rooms.

“Do you think they’ll go on a date soon?” Nobara asked, a hopeful tone to her voice. 

“They seem to be hitting it off well, so far so I think so yeah,” Yuji said and Megumi nodded.

“Have you two been on dates before?” Nobara asked while yawning after it was getting late.

“I’ve only been on one,” Yuji said with a sigh holding onto his pillow tighter.

“I’ve been on none, the three of us should go on one sometime,” Megumi suggested with a small blush.

“Yeah that’d be nice, well you heard Gojo, we better get to bed,” Nobara said.

With that the three of them hung, letting themselves fall asleep peacefully.

[agentrouka-blog]

ASOIAF - Dany and the persimmons of doom

The persimmon is mentioned 13 times, 12 times in Dany chapters.

What’s a Persimmon?

The word Diospyros comes from the ancient Greek words "dios" (δῐος) and "pyron" (πῡρον). A popular etymology construed this as "divine fruit", or as meaning "wheat of Zeus" or "God's pear" and "Jove's fire". The dio-, as shown by the short vowel 'i', has nothing to do with 'divine' (δῑoς ), dio- being an affix attached to plant names, and in classical Greek the compound referred to "the fruit of the nettle tree". 

The word persimmon itself is derived from putchamin, pasiminan, or pessamin, from Powhatan, an Algonquian language of the eastern United States, meaning "a dry fruit".

The name was misconstrued to mean something a lot more elevated, something divine, olympian, fiery and impressive, when it really is a lot more basic than that. 

Kind of loving where this is headed already.

(Long, because many quotes.) 

The first and only persimmon mention outside of a Dany chapter is in AGOT, Eddard V. It’s contained in a list of offered refreshments by Pycelle, while Ned has gone to him to inquire about Jon Arryn’s death.

"Lord Arryn's death was a great sadness for all of us, my lord," Grand Maester Pycelle said. "I would be more than happy to tell you what I can of the manner of his passing. Do be seated. Would you care for refreshments? Some dates, perhaps? I have some very fine persimmons as well. Wine no longer agrees with my digestion, I fear, but I can offer you a cup of iced milk, sweetened with honey. I find it most refreshing in this heat."

 (AGOT, Eddard V)

Things in a list are, in my opinion, very often symbolically loaded. 

Dates. Persimmons. Milk sweetened with honey.

Dates, counting just the actual fruit, are also most heavily associated with Dany (7 mentions) and to a lesser degree Tyrion (3 mentions) and Arys Oakheart and Arianne (1 each). Also, Dorne in general. 

Milk with honey, which is what Ned ends up choosing, as a combination is associated with Brienne, Jaime and the Riverland mess, oddly enough, and, sweetened milk in general also with the suppression of Sweetrobin (sweetsleep). I’m sticking to the persimmon for now.

So, what are persimmons about for Dany? 

The first mention occurs in Qarth, close to the beginning of Daenerys III.

Descendants of the ancient kings and queens of Qarth, the Pureborn commanded the Civic Guard and the fleet of ornate galleys that ruled the straits between the seas. Daenerys Targaryen had wanted that fleet, or part of it, and some of their soldiers as well. She made the traditional sacrifice in the Temple of Memory, offered the traditional bribe to the Keeper of the Long List, sent the traditional persimmon to the Opener of the Door, and finally received the traditional blue silk slippers summoning her to the Hall of a Thousand Thrones.  

(ACOK, Daenerys III)

Another list. Hmm...

A sacrifice in the Temple of Memory... (If I look back, I am lost. What was Hazzea’s name again?)

A bribe to the Keeper of the Long List. (Keeper of lists... Arya keeps a kill list. Other list keepers might be the maesters at the Citadel for marriages births and deaths. There are two specifically mentioned “long lists”, Pycelle’s list of people who should swear fealty to Joffrey, and Hizdahr’s list of Dany’s enemies after smashing the slave trade.)

A persimmon to the Opener of Doors. (The red door likely foreshadows her Burning of King’s Landing, which is what I think this refers to. Elsewise, Jon significantly opened the gates of the Wall for the wildlings to march through. Jon, and Dany both open doors in significant dreams or visions.)

Then she receives the blue silk slippers and is summoned to the Hall of a Thousand Thrones. (Blue silk is heavily associated with Sansa, where it’s associated with catastrophe, violence, betrayal and defeat. To a lesser degree same for Brienne and Cersei. And the blue bard. This is not a happy fabric.)

But anyway, so the persimmon is associated with the Opening Of The Door. And what else?

The Pureborn reject Dany’s offerings and do not give her a fleet. She grumbles. She contemplates returning to Vaes Tolorro and making a home there but rejects the idea. Xaro asks her to marry him. A lot. Quaithe says reaches out to her again and gives her the “To go North you must go south etc” prophecy. She decides to go see the HOTU. (Destruction will follow.)

So, persimmon -> rejecting non-conquering path. And Quaithe egging her on.

Next Mention, still in Qarth. The persimmon opens the chapter.

She was breaking her fast on a bowl of cold shrimp-and-persimmon soup when Irri brought her a Qartheen gown, an airy confection of ivory samite patterned with seed pearls. "Take it away," Dany said. "The docks are no place for lady's finery."

If the Milk Men thought her such a savage, she would dress the part for them. When she went to the stables, she wore faded sandsilk pants and woven grass sandals.  

(ACOK, Daenerys V)

She consumes persimmon, and returns to her Dothraki garb, rejects Xaro’s proposal of marriage, finds herself unloved by the smallfolk of Qarth and pressured to leave. 

They know who I am, and they do not love me. Dany could tell from the way they looked at her.

Xaro refuses to help her get a fleet. She contemplates the visons in the HOTU. We get a book series title drop. 

“I remember,” Dany said sadly. “They murdered Rhaegar’s daughter as well, the Little princess. Rhaenys, she was named, like Aegon’s sister. There was no Visenya, but he said the dragon has three heads. What is the song of ice and fire?” 

“It’s no song I’ve ever heard.”

Dany wanders the docks and meets Barristan Selmy and Strong Belwas, who save her from a poison assassination attempt by the Sorrowful Men. Selmy and Belwas were sent by Magister Illyrio along with three ships. She accepts them, and renames them for the three conquering dragons Vhagar, Meraxes, Balerion. 

So, all in all we are on theme here with Dany embracing her inner dragon and rejecting alternative options of making a home. Aegon the Conquerer with Teats it is. Thank you, persimmon.

Next up, A Storm of Swords. Dany goes Unsullied-shopping in Astapor. The persimmon is at the beginning of the chapter.

“Your ears heard true,” said Dany. “I want to buy them all. Tell the Good Masters, if you will.”

She had chosen a Qartheen gown today. The deep violet silk brought out the purple of her eyes. The cut of it bared her left breast. While the Good Masters of Astapor conferred among themselves in low voices, Dany sipped tart persimmon wine from a tall silver flute. She could not quite make out all that they were saying, but she could hear the greed.  

(...)

Dany let them argue, sipping the tart persimmon wine and trying to keep her face blank and ignorant. I will have them all, no matter the price, she told herself. The city had a hundred slave traders, but the eight before her were the greatest. When selling bed slaves, fieldhands, scribes, craftsmen, and tutors, these men were rivals, but their ancestors had allied one with the other for the purpose of making and selling the Unsullied. Brick and blood built Astapor, and brick and blood her people. 

(…)

Two thousand would never serve for what she meant to do. I must have them all. Dany knew what she must do now, though the taste of it was so bitter that even the persimmon wine could not cleanse it from her mouth. She had considered long and hard and found no other way. It is my only choice. "Give me all," she said, "and you may have a dragon."

(…)

“Missandei is no longer a slave. I free you, from this instant. Come ride with me in the litter, I wish to talk.” Rakharo helped them in, and Dany drew the curtains shut against the dust and heat. “If you stay with me you will serve as one of my handmaids,” she said as they set off. “I shall keep you by my side to speak for me as you spoke for Kraznys. But you may leave my service whenever you choose, if you have father or mother you would sooner return to.” “This one will stay,” the girl said. “This one … I … there is no place for me to go. This … I will serve you, gladly.”

(ASOS, Daenerys III)

Persimmon & “buy them all, have them all, give me all” on triple display. Gee, I wonder if we will have another dragon escalation coming up?

Also, Dany’s special brand of slave liberation is in full swing. You are free to leave - with no alternatives provided for you. Or stay and serve as my “handmaid”. Ask Irri what that means.

The night before the transaction, she dreams she is Rhaegar on dragonback, bathing her enemies in dragonfire. A good dream, for Dany. She gets a visit from Quaithe. The next day, she dresses in Dothraki garb again. Fire and Blood.

“Unsullied!” Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. “Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see.” She raised the harpy’s fingers in the air … and then she flung the scourge aside. “Freedom!” she sang out. “Dracarys! Dracarys!” “Dracarys!” they shouted back, the sweetest word she’d ever heard. “Dracarys! Dracarys!” And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire.

It would appear that the persimmons signal the proximity of a dragon escalation. Persimmons always appear at the beginning of a chapter where Dany chooses Dothraki garb and dragonfire. 

Does it hold up?

A newly conquered Meereen has the next persimmon mention right at the top of the chapter:

Dany broke her fast under the persimmon tree that grew in the terrace garden, watching her dragons chase each other about the apex of the Great Pyramid where the huge bronze harpy once stood. Meereen had a score of lesser pyramids, but none stood even half as tall. From here she could see the whole city: 

(…) 

And beyond the walls was the pewter sea, the winding Skahazadhan, the dry brown hills, burnt orchards, and blackened fields. Up here in her garden Dany sometimes felt like a god, living atop the highest mountain in the world.  

(…)

All my victories turn to dross in my hands, she thought. Whatever I do, all I make is death and horror.

(…)

“My city,” said Dany. “I was looking for a house with a red door, but by night all the doors are black.”

“A red door?” Missandei was puzzled. “What house is this?” “No house. It does not matter.” Dany took the younger girl by the hand. “Never lie to me, Missandei. Never betray me.”

"I never would," Missandei promised. "Look, dawn comes."

(…)

 On the terrace, a few flies stirred sluggishly. A bird began to chirp in the persimmon tree, and then two more. Dany cocked her head to hear their song, but it was not long before the sounds of the waking city drowned them out.

The sounds of my city. 

(…)

“What will you do then, Khaleesi?” asked Rakharo. “Stay,” she said. “Rule. And be a queen.”

(ASOS, Daenerys VI)

After the first persimmon mention, she reflects on the conquest of Meereen in a terrible, savage sack. (Incidentally, using the same kinds of weapons to attack their gate as Jon defends against the Wildling attack on the Wall, specifically the “turtle” and ram. Jon/Dany romantic foreshadowing, surely.) 

Persimmon ->  Dragon and dothraki. Yes, it holds up.

But there is a second persimmon mention. Persimmons in the middle of a chapter tend to signal a rejection of the dragon path. 

After a series of bad news from Astapor and beyond, making her question the success of her actions, she decides to change her plans. The birds draw her attention to the persimmon tree of dragon escalation BUT the sounds of her city drown them out. She turns away from the siren call. She decides to try and responsibly deal with actual ruling. 

So far, so on theme. Will the persimmons make a comeback when Dany re-dragons? Yes. Yes, they will. 

ADWD gives us more persimmons. Many more.

Daenerys II. Middle-chapter persimmon -> Dragon rejection.

She is unrestful. The Sons of the Harpy killed Missandei’s brother, and many more. She agrees to have a suspect’s young daughter tortured to get answers. She grows very tired of ruling. She struggles to comfort Missandei who asserts Dany’s Mhysa identity. But Dany is lonely and longs to be loved, longs for Daario. She takes a bath and, hello, Quaithe!

A woman stood under the persimmon tree, clad in a hooded robe that brushed the grass. Beneath the hood, her face seemed hard and shiny. She is wearing a mask, Dany knew, a wooden mask finished in dark red lacquer. "Quaithe? Am I dreaming?" She pinched her ear and winced at the pain. "I dreamt of you on Balerion, when first we came to Astapor."

 (…)

“Daenerys. Remember the Undying. Remember who you are.” “The blood of the dragon.” But my dragons are roaring in the darkness. “I remember the Undying. Child of three, they called me. Three mounts they promised me, three fires, and three treasons. One for blood and one for gold and one for …”

"Your Grace?" Missandei stood in the door of the queen's bedchamber, a lantern in her hand. "Who are you talking to?"

Dany glanced back toward the persimmon tree. There was no woman there. No hooded robe, no lacquer mask, no Quaithe.

A shadow. A memory. No one. She was the blood of the dragon, but Ser Barristan had warned her that in that blood there was a taint. Could I be going mad? They had called her father mad, once. "I was praying," she told the Naathi girl. "It will be light soon. I had best eat something, before court." 

(…)

If I look back, I am doomed, Dany told herself … but how could she not look back? I should have seen it coming. Was I so blind, or did I close my eyes willfully, so I would not have to see the price of power?

(…)

I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I.

(ADWD, Daenerys II)

Dany is chaving under the pressures of ruling, already resorting back to cruelty, and under the persimmon tree, Quaithe beckons and tries to lure her back down the dragon path. Dany hesitates. She considers Hizdahr’s 7th proposal to open the fighting pits and questions Ser Barristan on his escape from Joffrey. She visits her dragons and questions herself, harshly. 

This chapter is one big hope spot before it all goes to ashes.  

Daenerys III. Closer to the beginning of the chapter, but not quite up there. -> less enthusiastic dragon rejection.

A banquet to honor the visit of Xaro from Qarth. Sensual dancing. Food and trade on the forefront of Dany’s mind, longing for Daaaaario in the background. 

Daenerys held out her cup for Irri to refill. The wine was sweet and strong, redolent with the smell of eastern spices, much superior to the thin Ghiscari wines that had filled her cup of late. Xaro perused the fruits on the platter Jhiqui offered him and chose a persimmon. Its orange skin matched the color of the coral in his nose. He took a bite and pursed his lips. "Tart."

"Would my lord prefer something sweeter?" 

“Sweetness cloys. Tart fruit and tart women give life its savor.” Xaro took another bite, chewed, swallowed. “Daenerys, sweet queen, I cannot tell you what pleasure it gives me to bask once more in your presence. A child departed Qarth, as lost as she was lovely. I feared she was sailing to her doom, yet now I find her here enthroned, mistress of an ancient city, surrounded by a mighty host that she raised up out of dreams.” No, she thought, out of blood and fire.

(ADWD, Daenerys III)

Tart v. sweet. Right now, a sweet queen? The persimmons beckon. She and Xaro philosophize on the relative merits of slavery. He would buy olives, she has to wait seven years for the newly planted trees to bear fruit. She hears of all the alliances made against her. Then he offers her a fleet to leave Slaver’s Bay and go home. Selmy likes the idea. Dany is sorely tempted, but the swirling rumors cause her court to question her and she lets go of the plans. She rejects Xaro’s tart persimmon-flavored offer of sailing off to conquer elsewhere. Xaro regrets not having killed her in Qarth. They part on bad Terms, she receives declaration of war the next morning.

Daenerys IX. The persimmon’s open the chapter. Uh oh.

The sky was a merciless blue, without a wisp of cloud in sight. The bricks will soon be baking in the sun, thought Dany. Down on the sands, the fighters will feel the heat through the soles of their sandals.

Jhiqui slipped Dany's silk robe from her shoulders and Irri helped her into her bathing pool. The light of the rising sun shimmered on the water, broken by the shadow of the persimmon tree. "Even if the pits must open, must Your Grace go yourself?" asked Missandei as she was washing the queen's hair.

(...)

My handmaids are Dothraki, she told herself. Death rides with every khalasar. The day she wed Khal Drogo, the arakhs had flashed at her wedding feast, and men had died whilst others drank and mated. Life and death went hand in hand amongst the horselords, and a sprinkling of blood was thought to bless a marriage. Her new marriage would soon be drenched in blood. How blessed it would be.

(…)

He is fire made flesh, she thought, and so am I. Daenerys Targaryen vaulted onto the dragon’s back, seized the spear, and ripped it out. The point was half-melted, the iron red-hot, glowing. She flung it aside. Drogon twisted under her, his muscles rippling as he gathered his strength. The air was thick with sand. Dany could not see, she could not breathe, she could not think. The black wings cracked like thunder, and suddenly the scarlet sands were falling away beneath her. Dizzy, Dany closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she glimpsed the Meereenese beneath her through a haze of tears and dust, pouring up the steps and out into the streets. The lash was still in her hand. She flicked it against Drogon’s neck and cried, “Higher!” Her other hand clutched at his scales, her fingers scrabbling for purchase. Drogon’s wide black wings beat the air. Dany could feel the heat of him between her thighs. Her heart felt as if it were about to burst. Yes, she thought, yes, now, now, do it, do it, take me, take me, FLY!

(ADWD, Daenerys IX)

Well. I’d say the pattern fits. Persimmon tree shadow breaks the image of a new dawn on the water, dothraki references, FIRE AND BLOOD.

And her final ADWD chapter? 

Daenerys X. Persimmon joins us close to the beginning of the chapter, but not quite at the top. But Dany makes up for that with enthusiasm.

Hers had been a lonely sojourn, and for most of it she had been hurt and hungry … yet despite it all she had been strangely happy here. A few aches, an empty belly, chills by night … what does it matter when you can fly? I would do it all again.

Jhiqui and Irri would be waiting atop her pyramid back in Meereen, she told herself. Her sweet scribe Missandei as well, and all her little pages. They would bring her food, and she could bathe in the pool beneath the persimmon tree. It would be good to feel clean again. Dany did not need a glass to know that she was filthy.

She was hungry too. One morning she had found some wild onions growing halfway down the south slope, and later that same day a leafy reddish vegetable that might have been some queer sort of cabbage. Whatever it was, it had not made her sick. Aside from that, and one fish that she had caught in the spring-fed pool outside of Drogon's cave, she had survived as best she could on the dragon's leavings, on burned bones and chunks of smoking meat, half-charred and half-raw. She needed more, she knew. One day she kicked at a cracked sheep's skull with the side of a bare foot and sent it bouncing over the edge of the hill. And as she watched it tumble down the steep slope toward the sea of grass, she realized she must follow.

Dany set off through the tall grass at a brisk pace. The earth felt warm between her toes. The grass was as tall as she was. It never seemed so high when I was mounted on my silver, riding beside my sun-and-stars at the head of his khalasar. As she walked, she tapped her thigh with the pitmaster’s whip. That, and the rags on her back, were all she had taken from Meereen.

(…)

Below, she saw men whirling, wreathed in flame, hands up in the air as if caught in the throes of some mad dance. A woman in a green tokar reached for a weeping child, pulling him down into her arms to shield him from the flames. Dany saw the color vividly, but not the woman’s face. People were stepping on her as they lay tangled on the bricks. Some were on fire. Then all of that had faded, the sounds dwindling, the people shrinking, the spears and arrows falling back beneath them as Drogon clawed his way into the sky. Up and up and up he’d borne her, high above the pyramids and pits, his wings outstretched to catch the warm air rising from the city’s sun baked bricks. If I fall and die, it will still have been worth it, she had thought.

(…)

No, Dany told herself. If I look back I am lost. She might live for years amongst the sunbaked rocks of Dragonstone, riding Drogon by day and gnawing at his leavings every evenfall as the great grass sea turned from gold to orange, but that was not the life she had been born to.

(…)

“Quaithe?” Dany called. “Where are you, Quaithe?” Then she saw. Her mask is made of starlight. “Remember who you are, Daenerys,” the stars whispered in a woman’s voice. “The dragons know. Do you?”

(…)

“Drogon killed a little girl. Her name was … her name …” Dany could not recall the child’s name. That made her so sad that she would have cried if all her tears had not been burned away.

(…)

Never, said the grass, in the gruff tones of Jorah Mormont. You were warned, Your Grace. Let this city be, I said. Your war is in Westeros, I told you.

(…)

As the western sky turned the color of a blood bruise, she heard the sound of approaching horses. Dany rose, wiped her hands on her ragged undertunic, and went to stand beside her dragon. That was how Khal Jhaqo found her, when half a hundred mounted warriors emerged from the drifting smoke.

(ADWD, Daenerys X)

She WANTS the persimmon tree. There is the Dothraki environment. She WANTS Quaithe. She starts acting like a literal dragon, nesting, eating Drogon’s leavings, wanders the grasslands half-crazed, suffery dysentery, miscarries (Mhysa v. Mother of Dragons) and makes her sacrifice to the Temple of Memory (Hazzea), which was the first step to the Hall of Thousand Thrones in Qarth. 

Next up, a bribe to the Keeper of the Long List, persimmon to the Opener of (Red) Doors and then it’s Hello, Blue Silk Slippers of (stabbing) Doom in the Hall of Thousand Thrones. 

Considering how consistent the theme of the persimmon is, I’m kind of excited about it seeing how GRRM will use it in TWOW and ADOS.  

Next up I think I’ll look at the context of dates, and milk with honey, just to find out why GRRM chose to have Ned reject the persimmons and dates and did let him choose the milk and honey, in that very first mention. Iced milk and honey. 

[lisbonsteresa]

(@raylaswife, I don’t know if you actually wanted something written off that apartment post, but if you did I hope you like it.)

————

It’s not even that Callum’s luck was bad, not really. It was more...inconvenient. It had been inconvenient that he’d forgotten Soren “borrowing” the last of their milk for his protein shake and that he had to eat dry cornflakes for breakfast. It was inconvenient that he’d run to catch the bus to the art shop and gotten to the stop just as it was pulling away. And it was definitely inconvenient that he had forgotten both his keys and umbrella, which resulted in him dripping onto the doormat, still struggling with his bags, as he called to his brother through the door to their apartment.

He couldn’t blame his inconvenient luck for the silence from the other side of the door though. That was all him. “Ez?” he tried again, pressing his ear to the wood. “I know you’re in there bud; I can hear the tv”. A few quick shuffled steps were followed by the click of the remote, then nothing.

“Listen, Ezran....I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled like that”. He really shouldn’t have, Callum knew. But when he’d found the last piece for his portfolio not drying on his desk like he left it, but instead lying facedown on the kitchen counter, jelly toad - and finger - prints covering the edges of the canvas, he’d snapped. “I’ve just been really stressed out about applying to art school, but I know that’s not a good excuse,” There was no response from the other side of the door, but he knew his brother was there. That was one of the many great things about Ezran - no matter how mad they got at each other, he was always willing to listen when Callum tried to explain himself. “and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you”.

“Or Bait”.

Callum couldn’t help but grin at that. “Or Bait. It’s just with...” his head dropped down to lean his forehead against the door as the full weight of finishing his portfolio while also cramming for community college finals; of suddenly finding himself as the main caretaker for his brother; of all the things with their dad that he was still trying to avoid dealing with - huh. Maybe he should try calling that therapist Claudia kept not-so-subtlety recommending - hit him again. “everything; it’s been....hard lately”.

There was a soft thump as Ezran let himself lean against the door. “Yeah, I know.” he said softly, his voice sounding like he knew exactly which ‘everything’ was weighing on Callum the most. They stood in silence for a moment, the door between them, before Ezran continued. “Okay then. I accept your apology.”

Callum straightened up and reminded himself for perhaps the millionth time how lucky he was to have a brother like Ezran. “Thanks Ez.” he smiled, before shuffling his bags into more manageable positions and reaching for the doorknob, “Now just unlock the door and we can -“

“But Bait does not”.

Callum froze, his hand stopping just before the doorknob, barely catching one of the bags as it threatened to slide off his arm and onto the floor. “Wait, what?”

“Bait has heard your apology,” Ezran was interrupted by a large snort, and Callum pictured his brother holding his pet toad’s big grumpy face up to scowl at him through the apartment’s peephole. “but he is not convinced that you deserve forgiveness”.

Callum resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He thought they had stopped playing along with the idea that his brother could understand Bait back when Ezran was in middle school. Then he heard a faint sniffle through the door and realized that maybe the toad wasn’t the only one who hadn’t fully forgiven him. “I see. And what would you recommend I do if I wanted to get back into Bait’s good graces?”

A beat. Then: “Bait says that if you’re really sorry....you have to do the thing”.

“I - wha- Ez, seriously? Out here?”

“Hey, Bait makes the rules. I am but his humble spokesperson”.

Barely containing a snort of laughter, Callum relented and carefully dropped his bags to the floor. “Alright, I’ll do it. But tell Bait that he might have one less jelly tart on his plate tonight.”

“Bait has decided that is an acceptable price to pay”.

Grinning, Callum rolled his shoulders out, stepped to the middle of the hallway, then spun around and bowed to the peephole he knew his brother was watching him through. “Very well. Let’s begin”. And then he danced.

Honestly, he didn’t ever really mind the dance once he got started. It was all high kicks and flailing arms and whatever weird or funny faces he could think to make; and it was actually kind of fun. It helped to let off some steam and just be goofy for a few minutes, Ezran’s laughter and clapping egging him on to throw in even sillier moves.

“Bait says knees higher! Knees higher!”

“Bait can’t even see my knees!” Callum called through a laugh.

“He can tell by your steps that your knees aren’t high enough!” Ezran shot back. “Come on, up up up!”

Once his arms started to burn, Callum knew it was time to bring out his big finishing move. “Get Bait ready!” he called in the direction of the apartment door, “this is gonna blow his mind!”. He launched himself into the air, spinning around with his arms wide, before coming down to land on one foot and kicking the other up in front of him. “Ta-“

“You planning on keeping this up all night,” an amused voice called from behind him, “or can I use the intermission to actually get into my apartment?”

Callum spun around so fast that the leg he was standing on nearly gave way, only just managing to grab onto the doorknob of Unit 4C before he dropped - very embarrassingly - onto his rear end in front of a total stranger. What a first impression.

To her credit, the stranger looked more entertained than annoyed. She looked about his age, maybe a year older, leaning against the wall with a reusable grocery bag slung over one shoulder and her hair - so blonde it almost looked white - tied up in a bun on top of her head. She was watching Callum with a small smirk lifting the corner of her mouth, and he realized belatedly that the keys dangling from her finger were in fact for Unit 4C. He also realized that he was still hanging off her doorknob. He should probably get up. Why wasn’t he getting up?

To his dismay, the smirk dropped into a frown and she pushed off the wall, crossing her arms over her chest while never taking her eyes off of him. “Is this something you do often?” she asked, a slight accent lifting the end of her sentence - Scottish, maybe? Welsh? - “Staring at strangers?”

Callum sprang up straight, face heating as he tried to find some way to save any part of this interaction. “No! No. No, of course not, no, because that would be a, um, really weird thing to do...” his thoughts trailed off as he finally looked the stranger dead-on. “...You have really pretty eyes.” Why would he say that?!

She did, in his defense. Bright violet eyes that popped open in surprise over his complete inability to keep his stupid foot out of his stupid mouth. “Thank you?” she replied, looking confused; the tips of her slightly pointed ears turning pink. And now he was embarrassing her on top of everything oh god this was a disaster.

“Anyway!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together as if it might dissolve some of the awkward energy in the air. “Sorry about all the,” he waved his arms around in a bad imitation of his already bad dancing “...that. I don’t normally do that in that hallway. Or anywhere public if I can help it”. The stranger just kept standing there, watching his floundering with an at best bemused (and at worst annoyed) look on her face “It’s kind of this whole thing -“

“It’s Callum’s Famous Jerkface Dance!” Ezran’s voice called out from behind their door. Callum jumped - he had almost forgotten that Ez might still be within earshot - and the stranger whipped her head around looking for the source of the noise, pulling her bag closer to her as if she was preparing to defend it from an unexpected attacker.

“Sorry! Sorry.” Callum winced, rubbing the back of his neck and wondering how this conversation had gone so far off of normal. “That’s Ezran, my brother. He’s over in our apartment” he jerked a thumb behind him towards unit 4D “You can meet him later.” the stranger quirked an eyebrow. “Or not at all!” he continued in a rush. “Because why would you want to meet the brother of the guy who you saw doing the -“ he paused, risking a glance towards her, “um, how much of that did you see, by the way?”

The stranger’s smirk was back, but Callum couldn’t decide if he should take that as a victory or not. “Enough”.

Right. So he was never going to be able to talk to his new neighbor again. “Oh. Okay, cool, uh, yeah....” he stammered. “It’s just this thing that we agreed on when we were kids, that I do to apologize when I’m being -“

“A jerkface?”

“Yeah, see, you get it!” he was relieved to see that her smirk had softened. It seemed like she had decided he was in fact more entertaining than he was annoying. “Anyway, sorry you had to walk in on that. It’s pretty embarrassing”.

“Nah,” she replied, looking like she was barely holding back a laugh, “It was cute”.

Callum couldn’t really say for sure what happened after that. There was a roaring in his ears, and his grasp on the English language suddenly disappeared. He must have sputtered something though, because the next thing he knew the stranger actually was laughing at him. “Hey Ezran,” she called to the door behind him, her sparkling eyes never leaving his, “is your brother always this articulate?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” Ezran’s voice called out (sounding very amused by his brother’s suffering).

“Thank you for that Ez.” Callum hissed, his face burning red and hoping his brother could see the glare he was leveling at the peephole. He turned back to the stranger with an awkward laugh, praying they could both pretend he’d played this whole thing off much better than he had. “Family, right?” he chuckled, hoping to find some kind of ‘can’t live with ‘em’ commonality.

The stranger smiled back at him, but her eyes suddenly looked....almost sad. “Yeah, family...” she trailed off, twisting a braided string bracelet around her wrist for a moment before she blinked and seemed to come back to herself. “Well, anyway,” she lifted her grocery bag and avoiding his gaze “I’d better get this inside before my ice cream completely melts”. She spun around and started to unlock her apartment door, leaving Callum blindsided yet again. Had he said something wrong? Offended her? Should he apologize, or would that make things worse?

But before he could fall completely down that thought spiral, she turned back to him and her eyes were warm again. “But it was really nice to meet you, Callum. And you too, Ezran!” she called across the hall.

A happy “Mhmm!” came from behind the door of 4D; the sound of someone whose mouth was too full to actually speak. Callum couldn’t help but laugh: “He’s probably 6 jelly tarts in at this point, but take it from both of us that it was really nice to meet you too.....” he trailed off as he realized he’d never actually gotten her name.

“Rayla”. she supplied with a grin.

“Rayla.” he repeated, grinning back at her. It was a pretty name (though thankfully this time he kept the thought to himself). “So, I guess we’ll see you around then?”

She stepped into the doorway of her apartment and turned back to face him. “I hope so.” she replied, shooting a wink at him just before the door closed.

Callum stood frozen in the hallway for another moment before he could remember how to make his legs work. He walked as quickly as he could into his apartment and leaned up against the back of the door, trying very hard to ignore the urge to spend the rest of the day sketching his new neighbor’s pretty eyes.

(It was inconvenient to realize, half an hour later, that he had left his bags outside their door, but somehow he couldn’t find it in himself to complain.)

[yuthoe]

To-Go: 2+1 (PENTAGON: Yan An)

or “The Two times Yanan Tries to Ask You Out and The One Time He Succeeds.”

So this was requested a while ago, and at first I thought they were asking for baker!reader, but I reread the ask and saw it was actually the opposite so I had to rework the plot in my brain. Regardless, in both versions, Yanan is adorably awkward.

This turned out so long and I swear I didn’t mean for it to get to 2k words lol, it just happened. Also it seems that i HAVE to add a dash of mild angst whenever i write my fluff. apologies if this turns out bad--i’ve been out of it lately, and i guess exploring my writing style. also i’ve been busy trying to become a #contentcreator on youtube lmao.

hope you guys like it!

WARNING: a dash of angst. WORD COUNT: 2,223.

Master List

---

Yanan pulls his head up from putting freshly baked strawberry and chocolate Danishes in the display rack at the jingle of bells. The “welcome” dies on his lips at the sight of you, and he quickly makes to straighten up, only to bang his head on the underside of the top shelf. He rubs his slightly throbbing head as he wobbles to the kitchen.

Depositing the empty tray and tongs on a table, he desperately says, “Help! She’s here!”

“Ooohh,” his friend Changgu says, closing the oven door on a new batch of baguettes before turning fully to Yanan. “So what are you doing here, then? Shouldn’t you be out there at the counter?” he asks, one eyebrow raised and a playful smile on his flour-dusted face.

Yanan just groans. “Yeah, but I don’t know what to say!”

Changgu shrugs, takes the rag from the belt of his apron and wipes his hands with it. “The usual, maybe? ‘Is this all, or would you like a coffee with that? Will you have these to go?’ Come on, you’ve said it tons of times before--,”

“Not that, Changgu!” the taller man said, waving a hand in front of his face, as if swatting a fly away. “I meant about asking her out! I have no idea how to ask her! I’m not exactly the most suave person out there.”

The baker laughs, hearty and clearly amused. “Just be yourself, Yanan, what’s the harm in that?” Changgu takes the few steps to the refrigerator to get another batch of dough. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some bagels to make.”

Yanan lets out a pained sigh before turning and exiting the kitchen, mentally thanking his friend for that unhelpful advice.

Just in time too, as you’re stepping up to the register with a tray of goods. You smile at him and wave as you set the tray on the counter.

“‘Afternoon, Y/N,” Yanan asks, quickly punching in the codes for three chocolate-filled croissants, two lemon curd Danishes, a pack of miniature cookies, and a baguette loaf; two years working at a bakery as the frontman leaves him no choice but to memorize product codes even for the least popular baked good. “Would you like a coffee with these?”

You hum, already scanning your prospects at the menu board above him before he asked. You squint, pursing your lips in concentration and Yanan thinks it’s the most adorable thing. And then you smile and turn back to him. “Yep, a medium caramel macchiato, please!”

“All righty,” he says, punching it in. “To go as always, I’m assuming?” he asks, smiling shyly.

“You know me so well, Yanan,” you reply, smiling back. “I’ve got a few friends coming by tonight, so I’m doing some shopping.”

“Ah, hence the baguette?” Yanan asks, before rattling off the price for everything.

You root into your bag for your wallet and hand him a bill before saying, “Yep, gots to have that bread for the cheese board.” Yanan gently puts the change into your upturned palm before turning to the coffee machine behind him.

“Don’t cheese boards usually have crackers?” The whir of the coffee grinder almost drowns out his voice, but thankfully you can still hear him.

“Yeah, but sometimes you just need more carbs.” Yanan sputters a laugh as he presses the shot button on the machine and turns back to see you smiling at the joke.

And then Yanan just decides to go for it. “Does this wine and cheese party have room for one more?” he says as he turns his attention to making your coffee. He feels his ears burn--from embarrassment or dread, he’s not sure.

You’re unable to bite back a smile, and then a loud laugh. “Mm, sorry, Yanan, I’m afraid it’s girls’ night tonight. But you know, sometimes one of our guy friends tags along too, just for the cheesy rom-coms, so I can ask. If you want.”

Yanan sets the hot paper cup in front of you and waves a hand. “Ah, no, you don’t have to; I was just joking.” He hopes the laugh he lets out is believable.

“Oh,” you say, taking the cup and the paper bag in both hands. “Well, let me know if you change your mind about that, ‘kay?” You turn for the door. “Thanks for this, Yanan! I’ll see you!” you say, and you disappear once again with the jingle of bells.

Yanan stares at the closed door, then sighs and deflates until he’s crouching behind the register, resisting the urge to just bang his head into it.

***

You reappear the next Monday, just as Yanan finishes putting up freshly packaged dinner bread on a shelf. The bells’ chimes welcome in a gust of wind from the chilly morning, and Yanan shivers, just a tad, and rolls down the sweater sleeves he wears under the bakery’s navy blue linen apron. He takes the empty tray he’d brought in and retreats once again behind the counter, sneaking glances at you from the corner of his eye.

He doesn’t mean to be creepy, and he hopes he doesn’t come off as too chummy when he asked if he could join your get-together the previous Friday. He doesn’t usually do that, nor does he even usually have a need to ask someone out; he spends all his free time in the bakery and all the customers, while nice and respectful (except of course, for the one-in-ten nasty ones), are more like family to him.

And then you came along one summer afternoon for a mocha iced coffee and a bagel, and after taking a sip said, “Is the mocha iced coffee this good usually, or is it just because you made it?” Yanan’s face turned as pink as his hair back then and stuttered through the rest of the transaction. 

The next time you came in a few days later, you made no mention of the iced coffee thing, but still managed to strike up a conversation with the introverted boy. Yanan was grateful for it--he was too flustered to reply properly, after all--and from that short exchange about strawberry jam blossomed a casual acquaintanceship.

Everything was going fine and dandy until one closing time when Changgu said, “So when are you going to ask Y/N out?” At Yanan’s expression of incredulous surprise, the baker continued, “What? She comes by the bakery more than once every week and talks to you everytime. She even asked the part-timer once if it was your day off when she came in and you weren’t there. All signs point to her liking you, man.”

Yanan had been helping put away trays and bolts, but at his friends words he froze, party scared of the idea that someone might be interested in him and he had no idea how to go about it, and partly excited that someone might be interested in him and that hadn’t really happened or been brought to his attention since elementary school.

And he does suppose it’s time he puts himself out there since Changgu has been pestering him about taking less shifts because he’s getting sick of seeing him all the time. Plus, he needs to get out more anyway. Two birds with one stone, right?

“Thanks, Yanan,” your voice snaps him out of his reverie. “I’ll see you later!” He registers your goodbye too late, tries to make words come out of his mouth, raises a hand at the door swinging closed behind you.

He really just went on autopilot while being consumed by his thoughts, huh? Yanan groans inwardly, deciding to make himself an espresso to distract him from his abysmal flirting skills.

***

You push the heavy door open and inhale the distinct smell of freshly baked bread. It’s been a few days since you stopped by--work had been demanding lately and required you to clock in earlier and punch out later, so your routine got disrupted. But yesterday you submitted that finance report and could finally take your time getting that good, good coffee. And yeah, maybe a snack for later.

There are a couple of people milling about, trays full of bread, or holding a bag of rolls. You make a beeline towards the display case of confections; if you could, you’d spend all day here, just looking at the golden-brown baked dough, some lightly glazed with sugar, colorful from the fruit fillings you know they make in-store. The chocolate chip cookies are a crowd favorite--big and chunky and guaranteed to have an ample amount of chocolate in every bite. You however, are partial to their oatmeal cranberry cookies.

The way this bakery makes them gives the cookies a crunch (you suspect they put rock salt in there or something, but you aren’t a baker so what would you know?), the tartness of dried cranberries gets dialed down by the oatmeal, and the cinnamon adds a depth to the fruity flavor. It’s your favorite to-go item here, and you immediately take a medium-sized bag. You tell yourself to save these and not just devour them in one sitting this time.

A customer is getting his items rung up when you get to the counter, already seeing Yanan’s head bob up and down as he reaches for the baked goods. “Sometimes being tall is tiring,” he told you once. “Like here, I have to bend a bit to ring up the food because the counter is too low for me. But don’t tell Changgu I told you that, he’d hold it over me forever.” You both laughed at that.

“Thank you for your patronage,” you hear Yanan say now, handing the paper bag of food to the man in front of you. “Take care, and come again!” He waves to the man before turning to you.

“‘Morning, Yanan,” you say, handing him the bag of cookies. “Are you feeling okay today?” You noticed when you last came in that he was oddly quiet and subdued. You weren’t quite sure why he was so down, so you didn’t attempt to make conversation; your mouth is sometimes too fast for your brain and you didn’t want to end up saying something to accidentally offend him.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, greets you with a soft smile, but you see he’s trying to avoid looking at you. “Yeah, I’m fine. Can I get you a coffee?”

“Yeah, a large hot mochaccino, please.” You hand him a bill and he returns your change. “I’m glad,” you say, fiddling with your wallet as Yanan works the coffee machine. “You seemed kinda down last week.”

You see him start, then press the button on the machine before turning to you. “Did I?” He bites his lip. “Sorry, I… I was just thinking.” He taps his long fingers on the wooden counter, the whirring of the machine and soft jazz emanating from the speakers the only sounds for a moment, before Yanan speaks again. “About last Friday… I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep, I just thought it would be a funny joke, but I actually half-meant it, but I wasn’t really expecting you to say yes to me, and even if you did I didn’t want to trouble you, but I just thought it would be kinda nice to hang out with you, you know, outside the shop, I mean, ‘cause like, you’re really fun to talk to, and I’d like to--,”

“Woah, woah, wait, Yanan, wait a minute,” you say, interrupting his rambling, an amused smile on your face. Yanan clamps his mouth shut and busies himself with making your coffee. You think you see a sweep of pink on his cheeks. “I… was actually serious about that--inviting you to hang out, I mean. I think you’re great to talk to, and I. I wanna get to know you more, too.” You can feel your face heat up as you fix your eyes on the grains of the countertop.

You hear a soft tap in front of you, just as the fragrance of espresso and chocolate assault your nose. The green paper cup sits in front of you, and you raise your eyes slowly--up Yanan’s clasped hands, to the linen apron stamped with the bakery’s logo, and landing on his eyes, shy and worried but hopeful.

“So,” he says, almost too softly that if you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t have caught it. Yanan takes a deep breath. “Do you… want to have dinner sometime?”

You think you must have misheard it. But you saw his lips moving, heard the sound come out of his mouth, so it must be real. 

You’re nodding before you realize it, smiling before you notice your cheeks are hurting. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d love to.” A relieved smile breaks out on Yanan’s face, and you briefly wonder how you didn’t realize he’s beautiful when he smiles.

He lets out the breath he’s holding as he pushes the cup of coffee to you. “Here’s your coffee, to go.” You reach out to take it, and make sure to brush your fingers against his. Electricity rushes up your hand, and you feel it buzzing as you say your goodbyes. as you exit the shop and step out into the chilly morning. as you remember him everytime you take a sip of the delicious coffee.

[foodbytesback]

I Try One of Everything at Salt City Market (Part 1)

I often rag on my hometown of Syracuse for not having a particularly creative restaurant scene.  A city with largely Italian and Irish populations has, surprisingly, yielded a lot of forgettable Italian family restaurants and Irish pubs that all kind of blur together.  Admittedly, I’m also a bit of a shut-in (especially with the pandemic), so I won’t claim to know all the ins-and-outs of some of the more “underground” restaurants.  So when I first heard about the Salt City Market, a collective of vendors selling foods from a wide variety of ethnicities, I was excited to hear about something new coming to that seeming-abandoned lot downtown.  They’ve had plenty of setbacks (most, obviously, pandemic-related), but now they’re finally open for our dining pleasure.      

This project has been almost a year in the making, so it’s no surprise that, on the day of the grand opening, people were so excited that everyone ended up running out of food.  Being the fool that I am, I assumed that going at 4:00 on the second day would be less busy.  We ended up waiting in line for about 10 minutes, as they were being very diligent about enforcing occupancy limits and getting people in and out as safely as possible.  Even though it was about 15°F out, I would say the overall experience was well worth the wait.  

I honestly was too busy trying to figure out what to get and also staying 6 feet away from everyone else that I didn’t pay much mind to the decor within the space. I didn’t even notice music was playing until one of my friends pointed out they were playing a song she liked (I know I’ve heard this song dozens of times, I could have sworn it was Animal Collective but after scouring their discography I guess it isn’t).  It had that kind of hip, start-up-y vibe that, when juxtaposed with the run-down apartment building across the street, would have raised questions about gentrification if it weren’t for the sheer number of POC chefs and entrepreneurs involved.  

So, without further ado, let’s talk about the food.  When I say I’m trying “one of everything,” I guess I actually mean “one thing from each vendor (or, rather, for this week, half of them),” which may be a little misleading, but let’s be real, I can’t afford one of everything.  (I briefly considered emailing them to see if I could get some sort of “Media Pass,” but I figured even if they did things like that it would require me to actually have readers lmao) Also, some places had also started to run out of things again, but I will do my best to review what they were able to give me without a sense of “ugh, this isn’t what I wanted.”  And obviously, since we got takeout and drove like 20 minutes to get the food back home, I’m not going to be judging the food in terms of things like “it was cold,” or “the breading got soggy from the condensing steam in the package.”

BIG IN BURMA- Samosas- $5

2 disclaimers- 1.) Of all the ethnicities represented at the market, I have the least knowledge and/or exposure to Burmese cuisine.  Judging by the menu and my basic understanding of geography, I’d say the simplest (and thus probably not super accurate) way to describe it is a cross between Indian and Thai food. 2.) I used to work with the dad of the owner, so I felt like trying Big In Burma first was a priority.  

While I initially wanted to try the Nan Gyi Thoke, they were out of noodles so I eventually settled on an order of samosas.  I say “settled,” but really, is there really anything better than a dumpling?

The dough was flaky and crisp, almost like phyllo dough.  The potato and onion filling was simple (and in my opinion could have used a little more of the curry spice blend they used), but tasty. The sauce that accompanied them isn’t described anywhere on their menu, but tastes a lot like Frank’s Red Hot but with a little more of a vinegary tang to it.  All in all, a great little snack that, despite being a fried dumpling, didn’t get too heavy, which was good because I had a lot more food to eat.

FIRECRACKER THAI KITCHEN- Spicy Basil Chicken- $13.50

My first thought upon tasting the chicken by itself was “Hey, that’s way too much fish sauce, I’m probably not gonna eat this whole thing.”  However, once you mix the chicken and the rice together, the flavors become much more well balanced, and I did end up eating the whole thing, thank you very much.  My biggest gripe, however, was that this “Spicy Basil” Chicken didn’t deliver very strongly on the “Spicy” or the “Basil,” two things I love in Thai food but found myself wanting more of.  The fried egg was good, though.  I’m always a sucker for a fried egg.

It might also be worth mentioning that one of my friends got the “Street Style Eggs Over Rice,” which, despite the menu description including other things, was just a fried egg over a pile of rice and a cup of sauce.

MISS PRISSY’S- Fried Chicken Wings- $12.50

(I hope I’m remembering that price right, the online version of their menu seems incomplete.)

Miss Prissy’s seems to be one of the busier stands, given they were probably the hardest hit of the ones I went to when it came to shortages.  They were out of the braised oxtail and pepper steak that were my first and second choices, so I “settled” on the wings.  Once again, that’s not a bad thing.  

The breading on the wings was just the right thickness, and was somehow still crispy after traveling.  They were also a very good size, too. The only negative thing I could say about the wings was that it seemed like they were seasoned after cooking, instead of seasoning the breading, which lead to some pieces being more well seasoned than others.  (I’m noticing a trend of me thinking everything was underseasoned… did I catch the ‘rona without noticing or something…) 

The mac & cheese may look like my mom’s sad, dry mac at first glance, but it is NOT.  It was much creamier and cheesier than it looks.  The green beans, however, were pretty much just as sad and probably-canned as they look.  I look forward to getting the collards some day, once they stop running out.

(Also, this is really neither here nor there, but the leftover samosa sauce goes really well with these wings.)

PIE’S THE LIMIT- Oat and Berry Slice- $3.50

While they do have an interesting selection of savory pies, I decided to get something more dessert-y to round out my night of hedonism- uhh I mean supporting local business.

The crust was surprisingly tender and flaky for a vegan dough (ie no butter/lard/etc).  The berry filling was a pretty much perfect blend of tart and sweet that you would want from a pie filling.  The oat topping clearly uses some kind of steel cut oat- or at least something other than the instant oats I’m accustomed to in streusel toppings like this- because it has a more toothsome chew to it, which I thought added a nice contrast in texture.        

All-in-all, everything was very good, with most of the shortcomings easily being excused as these businesses try to keep up with how busy they’ve been.   I’m much as it kills me to have to wait, I’m probably going to have to wait a week or two for part 2 for the crowds to die down a little.

[fairyshuuu]

notice

Happy 2020 everyone! I’ve been very absent here because of school, but I hope you all had a great end of the year and that you’re doing very well. I want to apologize if any of you have been waiting for a long time now, I’ve just had to force myself to stop writing for exams or I wouldn’t get around to studying and that’s a bad idea. So, since we all know by now that I’m an awful planner, I won’t put a deadline on myself but I would like to give you all a little head’s up for what I’ve been up to.

Writing

Probably the most important thing to address, since I’ve had some people tell me that I leave series for dead out of nowhere and while that isn’t my intention, I can see how it’s a bit frustrating if you’re waiting for a specific series.

.wild valley. on the way! I’ve written part 9 and 10 but still need to edit them. Hopefully I’ll get around to that by the end of January. While you wait though please do check out everyone else’s chapters because they are amazing and deserve all the love

.iveracity. halfway done~ you’ve seen me rave about what a beast this fic is which is probably why it’s taken me so long to put it out but pirate!kyungsoo is going to be worth it I promise

.little beasts. have written a part 1, 2 and 3 of this and I’m super duper excited about it but like I said, I’ll probably try to finish other series first because some of them have been on hiatus for a While. But I’ll hopefully get to put up a teaser soon

.other series. I know a lot of you are waiting for me to continue black silk, fours, mercy has a price and more~ and I’m really hoping to finish them this year, so you can look out for them!!

About this blog

One thing that really demotivated me last year is the amount of response I got on my reblogged posts, compared to my original content, or perhaps better said the lack of response. I know that you’ve seen a bunch of people talking about this already, so I won’t bring up the same things again. Instead I’d really love to thank everyone who brought me joy, motivation and love in 2019. You really are the reason I’m still active on here and I still enjoy posting as much as I did. I still have to look into it but I might start crossposting on other platforms as well, but I’ll still have to figure that all out. We also reached 3k last year, which is a huge amount of people that I never could have imagined to reach. My heart is all full and mushy from how appreciative I am to have a little corner of the internet to call my own. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. I hope I’ll grow even more into this thing that means so much to me, and that you’ll keep enjoying my writing even more.

Kisses to you

Also a million kisses to all the people who made me laugh, were my friend, who stood by me in the last year. It was a really tough one for me and I’m so grateful to have you all in my life!! You mean the world to me and I love you all so much, you majestic pieces of stardust

@chanyeolol​ @ninibears-erigom​ @suhoerections​ @jooniesgiggles​ @rissa-is-a-nerd​ @kyungseokie​ @yeoldontknow​ @kimjongdaely​ @baekwell--tart​ @byunfirstlady​ @kpop---scenarios​ @mint-yooxgi​ and tbh anyone else who took the time to have like a 2 minute conversation with me, ever? because you make me feel like i’m not fading into oblivion and it means a lot

Lastly

To thank for 3k followers, I want to open requests for drabbles. If you have any ideas of what you’d like to see me do, like an au drabble game for example, or something else you can always let me know. But for right now that will have to wait until after exams.

I hope you all have the best start of a new decade!

[itsclydebitches]

Water - Wine, a storm, and two distinctly different memories 

It was a dark and stormy night. Crowley had said as much three glasses ago, tipping Aziraphale that particular grin which meant he knew he was making a horrendous joke, and Aziraphale knew that he knew, and the both of them should just glare at one another for, oh, a good ten seconds or so. Aziraphale had indulged him with fifteen seconds and that had seemed to please Crowley greatly.

It was a dark and stormy night though, that was the kicker. As Aziraphale wandered into his kitchen, drifting from side to side like the wine in his belly, he couldn’t help but pause in front of the window, taking in the lashes of rain and periodic thunder. It was rather magnificent, all things considered. Though perhaps not for the reasons most would assume. Where humanity saw power and mystery, even a blase routine of vapor forming into cumulus clouds, Aziraphale saw...them. Their beginning, that is. Oh, he knew they’d met before. Crowley had been an angel once, after all, and even forgoing that he’d hinted in the past that he’d watched Aziraphale in the Garden, sizing up the Angel of the Eastern Gate before making his move. So no, it wasn’t the beginning, but it was the one that had mattered. His wing above Crowley’s curls, sheltering him from the very first rain.

Aziraphale had been given the honor of ruffling the water out of Crowley’s hair just hours ago, the gesture losing none of its intimacy after six thousand years. The memory made him giggle. Well, the wine made him giggle, but the picture of Crowley’s face in his mind’s eye—mouth twisted in annoyance, overruled by bright eyes and red cheeks—certainly helped the laugh along. While standing there, whole body shaking in mirth, it occurred to Aziraphale that he had the real thing waiting just two rooms away. No mere memory. So whatever was he loitering around the kitchen for?

“Wine,” he pronounced. “That's what it was,” and Aziraphale grabbed the first bottle out of the cooler, hardly caring what it was now that he was in a hurry.

When he returned Crowley had tipped himself over the couch, knees hooked up top and head resting on the carpet. Crowley looked like the sort who could pull that off. All loose limbs and serpentine flexibility. Of course, Aziraphale could do that too. He wasn’t bound by anything as mortal as a crotchety body. Yet what was possible was entirely beside the point. Aziraphale was not the sort to hang upside down over couches and so, simply put, he would not.

Besides, observing Crowley was much more fun. His hair matched the carpet, spreading like red waves that broke over fiber.

Aziraphale opened his mouth to tell him as much, but what tried to emerge instead was a very ungentlemanly belch. He forced it back down with difficulty (okay, so perhaps his body wasn’t entirely obedient) and by the time that was done he’d quite forgotten what he was going to say.

“It’s raining,” Crowley observed, pointing somewhere over Aziraphale’s shoulder. Good old Crowley, always filling the silence. “When the heavenhell did that start?”

Aziraphale blinked. “Heavenhell?”

“Couldn’t figure out which was supposed to be the curse anymore, so I should just use both, yeah?

That made sense. In as much as anything made sense two bottles deep. Aziraphale hummed, trying to remember when he’d first picked up on the drum of water against the windowpane, or when flashes of lightning grew brighter than the candles he’d lit. Not that it mattered. The storm was here now and they were quite cozy in its center. Aziraphale thought about asking if Crowley would like to move back downstairs, settle in beside the larger windows and enjoy nature’s show...yet once again his speech was stolen away. When Aziraphale looked again he found Crowley staring past him. Not at the storm now. That much was obvious in his gaze. It was something only Crowley could see and he stared it down, unblinking in a way only he could manage after too many drinks. Aziraphale often forgot words. Crowley forgot he had eyelids.

“I could have done that,” he said, so soft that Aziraphale had to lean forward to hear. He reached his empty hand towards Crowley.

“Do what, dear?”

“Water. Rain.” Crowley finally blinked, focusing on Aziraphale before immediately looking away again. “With the, you know...” His fingers made a fluttery motion that Aziraphale’s brain managed to interpret as fire. “Could have summoned anything to put it out. Don’t know why I didn’t. Wasn’t really thinking straight at the time, I guess. Kinda embarrassing. Isn't it? The Great Serpent forgetting rain exists when he needs to put out a fire. Might have gotten my head on straight later, but...”

It hadn’t mattered. Not without someone to save the bookshop for.

Crowley shrugged, a rather impressive feat given his position. Now was not the time for such wandering observations though. Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure how the atmosphere had changed, why he saw the storm as reminiscent of their beginning and Crowley their potential end, but it wasn’t the time for speculation either. Only action, old boy, move your feet.

The bottle slipped from Aziraphale’s finger’s, only remaining whole as it hit the hardwood because it knew better after all these years. With staggering steps he crossed the distance and as he did his hand rose, drawing a snap down through the air in one sluggish, but determined movement.

Let there be rain.

There were no clouds, but water still fell from the ceiling. Each droplet arched down and then evaporated, right before it could hit them or their glasses. Or heaven forbid his books. Crowley blinked up at the shower inside their den, arms beginning to shake like Aziraphale had messed with the temperature too.

“There,” he said simply. “No fires tonight, dear.”

“R-right.”

Aziraphale finally closed the distance between them. Knelt and took Crowley in hand. Kissing someone half on the ground was rotten work, but Crowley would always be worth it. Aziraphale firmly told his knees to shush and focused on the cool press of lips instead.

“Before,” he said, breaking the kiss. Aziraphale tasted tart wine on his breath and felt a chill down his spine. Like one of the raindrops had managed to sneak beneath his collar.

“Before?” Crowley whispered. He was forgetting to blink again.

“Yes. I wanted to remind you that you’re beautiful.”

Aziraphale drew his hand through the waves of Crowley’s hair, his other palm keeping hold of his cheek. Crowley arched up to bury his face in Aziraphale’s neck, but he could see his bare toes curling over the couch’s cushions.

All around them the storm raged, balanced by the softer shower of Aziraphale’s making. He would surround Crowley, soak him, drench them both until this memory obliterated all the others. If losing the Garden was the price Aziraphale paid for releasing Crowley of his ‘What if’s, then he would oh so gladly pay it.

“I’ve always loved the rain,” Aziraphale said and pulled Crowley ever closer.