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hargrove-mayfields · 2 years

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Maybe three weeks before the beginning of the holidays is a little early to start, but if he doesn’t do it now, it’s not getting done.

See, the Harrington’s are kind of known for the food they bring to Holiday parties, be that the Christmas celebrations with his fathers side, or Chanukah with his mother and her sisters family, but Steve’s been the only Harrington around for the past few years to do the preparation baking. His folks show up for the first day of Chanukah, stay for the week until Christmas Day, and then it’s back to work, whether or not the week is even over.

It’s lonely, lighting the shammash and menorah on his own. They used to have one for each of them, even though it was always a stressful event to get his father to light his candles at the right time, but now it’s just one lonely symbol of how far apart he’s grown from his home.

Especially now that he’s in his own place, just the tiny first floor of a run-down duplex apartment, he’s got to pick up the slack and do what his parents are too busy cruising in the Bahamas to do if he wants to be allowed into the Christmas Eve party at his aunt Shelley’s, or at tante Reyna’s party on Shabbat during Chanukah, just like every year.

Regardless, and of course this would be the case, he has to be the only one to make six different types of cookies, two pies, and sufganiyot, which he thinks taste horrible frozen anyways, but he’s got to do everything in advance if he doesn’t want to get off schedule. Not that his baking is ever going to get finished on time anyways at this rate.

He’s just not patient enough. He doesn’t take the time to make sure no pieces of egg shell fall in the dough, or to remember the difference between teaspoons and tablespoons, or to let things rest when they’re supposed to rest, or to not just beat things that are supposed to be folded, or to not just preheat the oven too high and pull the cookies sooner.

Somehow, his treats always turn out fine enough that nobody throws them out, and he hasn’t set the house on fire yet, so he doesn’t see a reason to change. Except for the fact that, as he had attempted to convince himself so many times to beat this apathy he’d developed for it, if they’re good when he messes them up, they’d be perfect when he actually tried.

That isn’t the point though, the point is that currently, in his little kitchen barely big enough for more than one person, there’s a mess that would have been enough to make the housekeeper, when he still had one living back at his parents house, quit on the spot.

His stove top is covered in a pile of old bent up baking sheets he’d stolen from his mom, the marble counters covered with rows of cooling cookies. There’s a card table against the wall with a mixer full of dough and even more baking sheets lined with still raw cookies, while the sink is full to the top in both sides with dirty pans, mixing bowls and beaters. Thanks to all this mess, the entire front of his torso, protected by an apron with silver snowflakes and golden coins printed on dark blue material that his grandma gave him years and years ago, is covered in powdered sugar from an unfortunate incident with the mixing bowl.

Steve’s a little.. disheveled, to say the least.

Before, he never could say he was very organized, but lately, he’s been struggling with some other things that make it all worse. It’s like, there’s a constant swarming fog in his brain, that only sometimes gets clearer, or more cloudy, depending on the day. Today is a cloudy day.

It’s while he’s trying to sweep up a baking soda accident off the floor, watching the little kitchen timer to make sure it doesn't ring while he isn’t paying attention, that he’s pulled, rather abruptly, from his mangled up, tangled up whirlwind of thought.

Someone bangs on the front door, from the sound of it, with their whole fist, and quite urgently too. He drops his broom and it knocks over a bottle of vanilla, thankfully with the cap still on, onto the floor.

But Steve is too frozen in place to pay any of that a piece of his mind.

For just a split second, he filters through other options. It could be the neighbor asking him to move his car off the street again. It could be Russians tracking him down to finish the job. It could be his dad coming home early to drop off twenty-two years of forgotten Christmas presents.

He creeps to the door, cautious about creaking floorboards as if the Christmas tree he wrapped in silver and blue tinsel isn’t bearing enough white light to reveal in its glow that he's home, or that the radio isn’t blaring old holiday songs he’s heard a thousand times loud enough to be heard from the door.

Maybe he should shut that off. He flips a switch to cut the power to the radio, just in time to hear the doorbell ringing now, its chime cut short by itself as it starts over, again and again. Whoever is out there is smashing the button in.

Steve’s tension-wrought shoulders sag with relief, without even having to peek through the window, he knows who it is now. That annoying energy, the roughness and the impatience.

Yeah. It’s Billy.

The same that, after spending far too long in the hospital, had moved in just a few months ago in place of Robin, who herself had left behind being Steve’s roommate for a better break living with her girlfriend a street over. Billy, who uses a custom wheelchair to get around now, while breathing in artificial oxygen stored in a tank underneath his chair, and taking a thousand pills a day to keep the holes in his lungs from opening again.

That damn Billy, who Steve loves dearly and with all of his too-big-for-his-own/good heart, though that part is just for him to know.

Steve, confident that he’s not in danger now, opens the door and steps aside, holding it wide open so Billy has room to get his chair and himself in. It’s a tight squeeze, but after many times skinning his knuckles off the door frame, he has it down and practiced to get into the living space. There’s a path just for him, crafted by shifting all of the furniture into tight spots to give him plenty of space to move freely.

Steve locks up behind him, “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I live here too, you know. Not my fault I need a hand with the door.” Billy snickers at himself, takes humor in playing up the whole, ‘almost died and did become paralyzed from the chest down by saving Steve and everyone else’s lives’ thing.

He stops moving forward and Steve bumps into the back of his chair, his reaction times to sudden changes much slower now. They both mumble a sorry, before Billy explains, through a sort of snide comment anyways, what made him stop so suddenly, “Woah. And it was my kitchen too, if you could even call it that anymore.”

Oh yeah. It’s still a pretty big disaster in there, visible even just a few rolling steps into the adjoining living room. Steve forgot already. Blame that on the brain-fog.

“Well if it bothers you that much, you could help me.” Steve tried to play Billy’s game, but he immediately regrets it. Somehow demanding your wheel-chair bound, barely held together by always-never healing pins and stitches best friend help out with chores crosses the line into plain asshole territory, “I-If you’re alright to, I mean-“

Billy shakes his head, playing it off as no sweat. He likes to do that, make Steve feel like he’s doing everything right, so they can keep the peace after their first month living together was spent viciously arguing over their admittedly shrinking differences. So Billy bucks up now, and volunteers himself to Steve’s original request, even if it hadn’t been serious, “What do you want me to do?”

Steve himself had learned through many tears and screaming matches never to tell Billy he can’t do something. He gives him a manageable task to start with instead, while he tries to figure all this out in his head, “Wash your hands.”

“I literally just got back from the hospital.” Billy argues, clearly sarcastically, because he’s already taking himself over to the sink, waiting for Steve to reach the faucets for him. They really need a more accessible place, but they’re already damn lucky that this is the only apartment for miles that doesn’t have steps up to the porch. Fuck Indiana and it’s never updated infrastructure or building regulations.

For now, Steve will have to do just fine to turn the water on and put two pumps of soap on Billy’s hands for him. They know how to make it work.

Even if they still act snarky, like Steve isn’t carefully adjusting the water temperature to be comfortable for Billy as he speaks, “That’s worse then. Wash them twice.”

Instead of waiting for a hand towel though, Billy just flicks the warm water off of his hands onto Steve, who’s so thoroughly covered in baking ingredients even while wearing his special Chanukah apron, or he might’ve complained otherwise.

He doesn’t have time to though, before Billy is demanding, “Now what, Stevie?”

Immediately after he asks, and before Steve even needs to, Billy folds his hands in his lap, the agreed upon silent signal for, ‘Hey, you have full permission to push my wheelchair.’ Steve touches the handles and waits once more for Billy to nod, the second clarification before he moves Billy’s chair over to one of the card tables he had set out, at chest level so Billy can reach his work.

Leaving room behind his chair as he flutters around the kitchen, always a mass of nervous energy, Steve rearranged little pieces of his earlier baking disaster until he has a bowl of dough, an empty, but lined cookie sheet, and a set of measuring spoons laid out in front of Billy, to demonstrate the answer to his question.

“I need you to make tablespoons of this dough, and put them onto this- baking sheet.”

Billy reaches to start doing his part, but Steve interrupts him again, “Not before you get in uniform, though.”

He produces a second apron, this one Christmas themed, as it’s patterned with little felt gingerbread men and gumdrop beads. Usually, it gets left in storage, since it’s not really the one that suits Steve, but for this, for Billy, of course he’ll make an exception.

With a hand on each of the aprons' shoulders adorned with jingle bells, Steve holds it up in front of Billy’s work space.

Billy turns his head, deadpan, despite a glint of humor in his eyes, “The hell am I supposed to do with that?”

“Put your arms up so I can put it on you.” Steve directs simply, when met with Billy’s stubborn defiance, putting one of his hands on his hip instead of holding out the stiff fabric, “Please? It’ll save us time when we clean up later.”

Billy laughs like the suggestion is funny somehow, and honestly, yeah. It is. But that’s not the point. He’s trying to share the festivity with his friend who spent last year sleeping through Christmas, barely remembering a thing about himself, let alone the holidays.

Steve tries to make a convincing pleasing face, but again he’s met with a traditional stubborn Billy response, “I’m not wearing your grandmother's dish rag, Stevie.”

It’s with light humor, or at least, Steves pretty sure it is since Billy called him by his nickname, so he argues back, “C’mon. My kitchen, my rules.”

“Not yours. I still pay for half of it too.” Billy reminds him, apparently very insistent about his stake in the apartment, but his body language doesn’t add up to his words. He puts his arms on the braces and pulls himself away from his wheelchair back support as far forward as he can, so Steve can reach to tie a bow on the apron around his back.

He fumbles as he wraps it around, just because his hands aren’t as accurate as they used to be before he hit his head another dozen times and got drugged with whatever, but eventually he gets it tied securely behind Billy’s back.

Then, and only then, he realizes it’s tied over top of Billy’s oxygen tube. Not very convenient if they want him to have any mobility at all.

Steve mutters an apology and starts over, carefully placing the apron against Billy’s chest while he moves the thin tube out of the way, realizing that he’s closer to the other than is maybe necessary when he looks up to do the second tie around Billy’s neck, and his nose almost bumps Billy’s.

While he’s there, to avoid doing something he regrets,

“You should let me put your hair up too.”

Billy pushes away suddenly, swiping his hair, grown out long since he’s been out of the hospital, over his shoulder so Steve can’t touch it, “No way! M’not your dress up doll.”

Even Billy, in all his defensive glory, is smiling about it. Maybe they have to do everything in this roundabout way, but at least they can have fun with it now, instead of the painful tension that used to settle over them. That’s gotta mean more than just the holiday spirit.

Steve laughs, “Would you rather wear a hairnet?

Not even giving a second to really consider it, too proud of his hair and all the growing he’s done, literally and metaphorically, Billy shuts down that idea faster, “No fuckin’ way! Go ahead and do your shit, Harrington!”

Using just a movement of his neck, he flicks his hair back over to the middle. The long, ringlet-like curls from the new care routine he’s gotten into, hang down to his mid back. It’s going to take a minute for Steve to get it put up nicely, so they’ve learned from many failed attempts at doing ponytails and buns and what have you. Steve’s most successful is a braid, so that’s what he goes with.

He’s delicate with Billy’s hair, as he sections it into three slightly tangled sections of gold. It’s probably been a few too many days since Billy detangled his mane. Steve wishes he’d tell him when he needed a hand, but that’s why he’s doing this right now instead of letting Billy try to do it on his own later when he’s exhausted and sore.

His silent acceptance is all the confirmation Steve needs to keep going, because Billy wouldn’t let him hear the end of it otherwise.

So they have a moment of peace, while Steve carefully uses his fingers to pull apart knots, or brushes them against the soft hairs at the base Billy’s neck gently as a tender apology for pulling too hard. Billy sniffs his nose while Steve goes slow braiding each piece over the other, one at a time, his tell-all sign that he’s starting to doze off in his wheelchair just from Steve playing with his hair a little.

So he’s pushing himself too hard again. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t get to help with these cookies though. And that’s what’s so worrying.

Steve wishes he had the spine to tell Billy not to do that. Not to worry. He’ll take care of him just fine.

To tell Billy that he loves him.

Reaching the end of functional pieces of hair, the length of Billy’s hair choppy and uneven enough that the braid only holds just over half of his hair, the rest trapped in a horses tail at the bottom, Steve ties it off with a hair tie he keeps in his apron pocket just for this.

This happens a lot, needing to get Billy’s mane of hair out of the way while he tries to participate. It gives him time at the start to prepare and assert his promise to himself to complete whatever task is laid out in front of him, while it gives Steve time to try to subliminally talk him out of it.

Maybe they need to use their words more often. Only then, would Steve have the guts to say just how much he wants to tuck the curly pieces of hair at Billy’s temples, the ones that always fly away and don’t stay tied back, away behind his ears, and just hold his face for a while. How much he wants to kiss him, after they sit and look into each other’s eyes, and feel that warm feeling that isn’t coming from the oven.

Oh shit, the oven-

Steve, more suddenly than he’d ever want to, breaks his connection with Billy. Right now, he’s grabbing one of the oven mitts that hang from the cabinets on little magnets, and setting to taking the cookies out of the oven, which at first only produces a cloud of white smoke.

Steve burnt the damn cookies. He completely forgot he’d just put a batch in before Billy got home.

It’s a moment of chaos with Steve swatting at smoke with the tray of blackened cookies balanced on the other hand until it’s too hot, and he drops it down too hard on the counter. Cookies burnt into stones scatter between piles of ingredients and a few onto the floor. Billy’s laughing so hard at the slapstick scene he breaks into a coughing fit, while Steve scampers to collect the fallen remains of his treats, falling on his ass when he gets dizzy from looking up too quickly to check on Billy’s deep, rattling cough.

It’s another disaster, to say the least.

Once Billy catches his breath again with the help of switching out his cannulae for a concentrated mask for a few minutes, and Steve has most of the smoke from the disaster cookies, which are now in the trash, funneled outside through the barely open window to avoid too much cold getting in, Billy reignites the conversation, “So what are those anyways?”

Steve stares blankly for a second. He realizes Billy’s referring to the cookies only once he actually points at the burnt pan in the sink.

“Oh. They were snickerdoodles.. I think.” His doubt isn’t a quip. He can’t really remember. Billy smiles patiently while he tries to bring the knowledge back, but it doesn’t come to him yet. Too many other distracting things in his head.

Moving on, Steve wipes his hands on his apron roughly, though nothing was even on them, and comes back to the prep station where Billy is still awaiting instruction, “This should yield like, two dozen or so more, and then we have to start the kichel.”

Steve demonstrates, using two spoons to scoop out just the right portion, so Billy, with the plastic ones instead of metal, copies him, and they both plop little balls of dough onto the cookie sheet, industrial sized because this one was taken from Steve’s parents, and could hold a whole dozen to bake at once.

It’s exactly what Steve described, but Billy still looks at the slowly filling tray in front of them with doubt, “Damn. How many cookies d’you think we’ll need?”

“Enough for the Christmas party where literally every last one of my dad’s relatives will be- And which you are going to by the way.” Steve reminds him, expecting Billy to argue and call his multi-faith celebrations lame or something.

But they’re thankfully beyond that now; way, way beyond it. Billy knows the limits of his teasing. He’d only like to point out, “Sure, whatever. M’pretty sure we won’t have enough room in the freezer for these though.”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to laugh, because he’s right, and they’re going to have to deal with finding places to pack away all these treats later. That’s exactly it though. A later problem.

“Quit your complaining and just roll me some more cookies.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Billy rolls his eyes, and keeps tossing sticky dough between two spoons, just going at his own pace.

They work as a team to get through a few more batches, and when Billy gets too exhausted to keep going, Steve lets him be the taste tester for his jam fillings instead.

It’s getting pretty late by the time they’re finishing up. They locked the windows after the sun went down, for Steve’s own peace of mind, and it’s been at least a few hours since then. Lately, that’s become the norm. When Steve’s been with Billy, he’s been losing track of the time. Just enjoying what they have together now that they’re a part of one another’s adapted rhythm.

The kitchen is mostly dark except for the soft glow of the tree from the next room, and the light inside of the oven. Billy looks like he’s about to doze off in his chair while watching Steve pull the very last tray of cookies from the oven and start the clean up. Right now, that’s just getting all the dozens and dozens of piles of cookies on his counter into plastic containers and small baggies to freeze. They’ll deal with all the dishes and powdered sugar messes tomorrow.

Right now, once everything they need done is put away, Steve takes the reins of Billy’s chair, after another moment of silent communication about if that’s okay, and brings them both into the equally dimly-lit, but just as warm and fuzzy and safe living room. In just a few weeks, the room will glow brighter with the light from his menorah, and maybe one for Billy too, depending. He still has the abandoned extras of his other family members. Maybe this will be they’re thing.

Billy interrupts his spiraling daydreams, “Hey. Thanks for including me.”

“You do pay for half.” Steve answers light-heartedly, remembering their earlier banter. He suspects that’s what this is too.

But Billy’s expression stays serious, and while he’s smiling, this one is gentle, a lot different from the shark-toothed snicker he wears when he’s playful.

“No, I mean like, making me feel normal.”

Steve, knowing the sting of being othered, called an idiot and a dim bulb and a thousand other things by his used to be friends since his brain started working a little different, rushes to assure him, “You ar-“

But Billy isn’t interested in listening.

“Don’t. It’s not normal to be like this.” Billy’s eyebrows knit together, deep in thought about something, and he starts again, choosing his words more carefully. It reminds Steve of the frustration of trying to explain his own experience to Billy, when he accidentally forgot to refill his medicine. The balance of guilt and pain, and self-acceptance and daring, “Hell, maybe it is, but it’s not my normal. I’m still not used to it anyway.”

Steve tries to help Billy, since he thinks he relates, “Tell me what I need to do to make it feel normal again.”

And, well, an interfaith, autistic guy with short term memory problems and a whole array of physiological stuff going on, maybe isn’t the one who should be offering up anything about lessons in normal, but he’d still like to be there for Billy.

“Ain’t your damn problem.” Yeah, even the Billy who shut him down almost instantly, out of the same fear that Steve understands far too well.

“Sure it is. I told you when I asked you to move in that I’d do anything I could. So.. you could at least stop asking your step-mom to take you to appointments..” Steve even gives examples, because he wants Billy to know how much he means it.

Maybe this is about how in love he is with Billy.

If only Billy understood that, instead of making excuses against Steve’s offer, “You were busy. It’s fine.”

“I could restructure though.” Steve’s upping the deal, choosing every word like a promise right from the heart, “You can be a part of my busy.”

Billy stares at him, processing, but then his expression crumbles like one of Steve’s burnt cookies. He hangs his head, “Damn it, Steve.”

Instant panic. Steve is back to searching his brain for whatever he said last, worried his stupid broken brain let something bad slip- “What? What’d I do?”

“I wish I could stand up and grab you by your adorable face and kiss you, right now.” Billy answers instead of explaining whatever cruel thing Steve might’ve done, and suddenly it’s all clicking into place. It wasn’t a mess up.

This is a really, really good thing.

A kiss. Steve wants that too.

He leans over the arm of the couch, and closer to Billy’s wheelchair. That’ll do a number on his neck, but he just wants- “Is it okay if I..?”

He’s never done this before. Not like this. Anxiety makes bubbles in his chest, that he has to shake his arms to work all that bad energy out. Except the movement makes him lose his balance, and he almost faceplants right into Billy’s lap. He scrambles to sit back up, but somethings still not perfect.

Billy chuckles warmly, and explains what he wants Steve to do, their role as the one with confidence switched, as it does in many situations thanks to their respective navigations of life in this new this way, “Just sit facing me. You’re tall enough. We can meet part way.”

“Okay.” Steve feels like he has to answer before he pulls away, and sits back, crossing his legs one over the other. He watches Billy reposition his wheelchair at an angle, and they’re actually face to face this time. It takes more than he's used to to get here, but so did remembering all the recipes and baking cookies.

He finds he doesn’t really mind taking the extra steps, “Like this?”

In the face of all that nervousness, Billy just looks at him all soft, like the gooey caramels before they burnt to the stove top, “It’s just a kiss Steve. We don’t have to get it right on the first try.”

“Right. So- Here goes-“ He nods, but he doesn’t lean in and kiss Billy it even move at all. He’s frozen with the distance of just a few inches apart, while he’s there, at least taking in every detail of Billy’s features.

The pale freckles on his nose, perpetually a little pink from the tubes going past, and the dryness it causes. Permanent oxygen therapy is rough on him sometimes, but it’s better than the suffering his coughing fits earlier gave just a glimpse into. Steve observes the old scar on Billy’s cheek and how it healed a dark, red-ish color. Just like Billy’s lips. Steve’s searching eyes meet Billy’s, and finally the stretching silence is broken.

“You’re still worrying.”

“Sorry, I-“ Steve automatically starts to apologize, but Billy interrupts it, with the press of his lips against Steve’s.

They’re both tense. It's painfully awkward for a first kiss. But it’s nice.

It’s like.. the cinnamon and the vanilla. Warm and sweet and subtle. It’s a craving he wants more of.

As gently as he can, he shifts places, and draws one hand up to hold the side of Billy’s face. Billy’s own hand comes up to reposition Steve’s where he won’t press down on his oxygen tube, but he doesn’t push him away. He holds him there.

Slowly, they ease into each other enough to shift, and start the kiss all over again. Still gentle, still new, but this time filled to overflowing with all the things they’re feeling along with it.

They’re going strong for a few minutes, and Steve just wants to keep pressing closer more and more, and channeling all the feelings about love too big for shaking out into this new outlet. He wants to taste all of Billy and see if he’s sweet enough to soothe his craving.

But Billy pulls away too soon. Tipping his head forward so his forehead, and his messy bangs, press against Steve’s. His breath comes out in short puffs, “Needed to breathe.”

Steve rushes to apologize again, flushed for two reasons now, “Sorry.”

He only chuckles softly, sounding almost tired in comparison to the howling laughter that filled the air just earlier. Like he’s relaxed now. Finally safe after sharing a kiss with Steve.

As if to demonstrate his gentle sweetness, Billy assures him, “It’s good. You're probably the best way to suffocate.”

Now Steve’s the one who laughs, unsure what that even means, but finding it makes his heart beat a little faster anyways, “Um.. Thank you?”

“No problem.”

It’s such a casual exchange, Steve would hate to interrupt it, but-

“Oh- I just remembered something!”

It was probably too sudden. Probably rude. Steve doesn’t even have the time to filter through every degrading comment he’d received in the past before Billy is distracting him with an inquiry into what was so important to ruin their moment. Genuine curiosity too.

“What’s up?”

“The whole house isn’t decorated yet.” Steve really had noticed out of the corner of his eye, that the tree is decorated with handmade Chanukah ornaments and, conversely, store bought candy canes, but beyond that, nothing else is ready. He won’t have time if he doesn’t do it now, even though it’s late and Billy’s getting tired, and oh!

Billy’s talking!

Steve’s panicking in his head long enough to tune back into the ending Billy’s denial, “-I just don’t do this Christmassy shit well.”

Like Steve’s doing much better with silver and blue baubles and miniature dreidels hanging on the damn Christmas tree. “I don’t either, that’s why I need your opinion. Please?”

“Alright, sure. What is it you need help with?” Well. That was easy. Billy’s got a soft spot.

Only, Steve has no idea what he needs. He just wanted to get his decorating done, and talk to Billy some more. He’s so in love with Billy, just thinking about him derails all the thoughts he has of tinsel and festive table runners and snowflake wreaths.

He forgot again.

Billy’s patience, in his round eyes and his dimple-showing smile, never falters, but Steve feels more panic, for just a second, until he finally remembers at least something.

“Oh, oh, I got it!”

There’s a sprig of mistletoe inside the candy dish out in the kitchen. He wanted to hang it up before Billy got home earlier, and he’d forgotten it when it got lost in the mess of all his baking tasks.

He’d wanted it to be for their first kiss, but, that already happened, the memory of those few seconds with his lips pressed against Billy’s making each step Steve takes, as he goes to fetch the mistletoe, bouncier, and squeaking a small noise of delight past his lips.

He’s just got to come up with an idea for it now.

A roll of tape and the small branch in hand, he goes to the small hallway, which leads to every room in the apartment, and picks the primary doorway into the living space where Billy is, holding it up,

“Is this a good place for this?”

It takes Billy a moment, after being turned to face the furniture Steve was sitting on for their kiss, to turn back round in the small space between the sofa and the coffee table. Steve understands how patient Billy is being with him and his foggy thoughts, so he honors the same temper for his love.

Billy finally observes, his half-tired smile growing across his flush-warmed face, “You do realize we’re gonna cross through there like, at least ten times a day.”

Steve just shrugs. That was kinda the point. He liked kissing Billy so much, he’d like to do it all the time. “So I’ll get some practice in.”

“You need it.” Billy snarks, only playful, which Steve can detect because Billy told him what to look out for after a misunderstanding about the other boy calling him silly. He sees the raise of Billy’s eyebrows and the curl of his lips over a suppressed smile, so he plays along too.

Taping the mistletoe up against the molding anyways, Steve juts out his lower lip in an equally as unserious pout, “Hey! Now you owe me two kisses!”

“Fine. Come redeem ‘em.” Billy doesn’t waste his energy moving himself all the way over to Steve and his two working legs; he just opens his arms, and that’s all he needs to.

Because now that he can, Steve is always going to go running for that warmth, and, just like before, he crashes their lips together in a kiss slightly less delicate than the first, but all the more reflective of the light of their mutual feelings, an even better motivation than the cheap plastic version of the iconic berry to kiss Billy.

Or to love Billy. To celebrate his holidays with Billy, and bring some light back into both of their lives.

#harringrove #my writing #ej writer #disabled! billy #autistic! steve #disabled! steve #jewish! steve #pure holiday fluff featuring interfaith traditions #like last time #shout out to my friend george for being my jewish culture consultant <3 #another first kiss fic #also on ao3!

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stuckybingo · 2 years

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Stucky Bingo Round-Up #15 (January 15th - 21st)

Don’t forget to fill out the submission form to be a part of the round-ups and to get your bingo badges!

Stucky Bingo January 2023 Round Robin by Politzania, Sivan325, j_snow_writes, buckybarnesdeservestobehappy, cherriontop, TrinityDay Square filled: Adopting a Pet Ao3 rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Established Relationship, adopting a pet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff Summary: Steve still didn’t think that actually adopting a cat was a good idea. After all, with the kind of jobs they had, they could get called away at a moment’s notice and be gone for who knew how long -- and who would take care of it in the meanwhile? Steve had mentioned the problem to Sharon, who not only was less than sympathetic but made the situation worse by waiting until Bucky was in earshot to say, “Hey, I think Nick’s cat had kittens. You guys should adopt one of them!” Format: Medium oneshot (1000 - 5000 words)

I Wanna Live in the Hidden Parts of Your Skin by voylitscope Square filled: G3 - Claiming Ao3 rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: porn with feelings, canon divergence, fluff and smut, friends to lovers, romance Summary: Sometimes, Steve looks at Bucky across the floor of their apartment or in the middle of the sidewalk, and it's not goddamn fair how good Bucky looks. It's not fair how Steve, who's spent his whole life fighting with his lungs for air and his heart for a steady beat, sometimes looks at Bucky and his breath and pulse are wrong for reasons that aren't his lousy health at all. And ever since the day with the purple ink, Steve can't stop thinking about people being canvases, like the models at that exhibit. Steve keeps thinking that Bucky'd be the most stunning canvas a guy could ever ask for. (Or: Steve and Bucky discover a kink in 1940. They find a reason to come back to it 80 years later. ) Format: Long oneshot (over 5000 words)

Don't interrupt a bride on her wedding day by Angelicalslayer Square filled: G4 - Oblivious to lovers Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Weddings, Friendship, Strangers to Lovers, Romantic Fluff Summary: Wedding days should be filled with kisses and declarations of undying love. Just not to the bride when you aren't getting married to her. Or: Steve confesses his love to his long-time best friend, but ends up finding it a different way than he expected. Format: Medium oneshot (1000 - 5000 words)

Hanukkah by Sivan325 Square filled: N3 - Free Square Ao3 rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: pre-war, Jewish Buck Barnes, Orphan Steve Rogers Summary: Steve watched as James’s dad lit the shammash, and then turned to ask him, “Would you like to light the first candle?” Format: Short oneshot (300 - 1000 words)

Since you are, everything that was is now something new: chapter one by endlesstwanted Square filled: B3 - Crack Ao3 rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply, Recreational Drug Use, Light Angst Major tags: Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Developing Relationship, Bucky Barnes Recovering Summary: Snippets on how to be wooed by two super soldiers, a guide by Sharon Carter. Step one: feelings exposure. Format: Short oneshot (300 - 1000 words)

Dear Bucky by Laevateinn Square filled: I5 - Letters Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply, Canonical Character Death, In which I mean this is set between Avengers and CATWS Major tags: platonic or romantic, Sad, Angst, Cemetery, moodboard Summary: Today I discovered a band I’m sure you would have loved. It’s called PostModern Jukebox. Funny name, right? It was a recommendation from Natasha. You know Natasha, I told you about her before. Format: Short oneshot (300 - 1000 words)

Cat + Mistletoe = Disaster by Laevateinn Square filled: Adopted square Dec - Mistletoe Ao3 rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Fluff, Alpine, College AU, Mistletoe, cat shenanigans, banter Summary: Steve and Bucky had only been Alpine’s parents for a few weeks, but she was already giving them grey hair. Format: Short oneshot (300 - 1000 words)

I Know You Don't Think I Can Do This by singthebeginningofmoana Square filled: O3 - Looking After Each Other Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply, talk of fighting Major tags: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger Summary: Bucky comes to Steve's aid during a fight. Steve is too stubborn to be grateful. Format: Short oneshot (300 - 1000 words)

Since you are, everything that was is now something new. Chapter 2: Space sharing by endlesstwanted Square filled: G2 - New York Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: On the Run, Trust, Sharing a Bed Summary: Sharon welcomes Bucky and Steve to her old place in New York while they're on the run. Format: Medium oneshot (1000 - 5000 words)

Fragments by @Andrea1717 Square filled: G4 - Link: Frottage Ao3 rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, Memories Summary: Bucky collects more and more memories of his past life. Format: Medium oneshot (1000 - 5000 words)

Into this night I wander (It's morning that I dread) by hanitrash Square filled: G3 - Red Skull Ao3 rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/non-con, Tentacle Monster Red Skull, non-con, oviposition Major tags: bottom steve, steve is having a Very Bad Time, hurt no comfort, steve whump Summary: Steve gets captured by HYDRA and learns more about Johann Schmidt than he ever wanted to know Format: Short oneshot (300 - 1000 words)

#stucky bingo #stucky bingo round 4 #round up 15 #weekly round up #don't forget to fill out the submission form

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marvelrarepairbingo · 2 years

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Marvel Rare Pair Bingo Secret Santa Master List

Hey everyone,

We’re swiftly getting into the new year here, but for those of us on the Marvel Rare Pair Bingo (which is getting ready to do round 2) we recently had a Secret Santa exchange this year. Each participant created a work for someone anonymously based on their likes and out of the winter spirit we have a list of some really wonderful stories for everyone to check out under the cut! Thanks to everyone who participated this year! It was a blast! We hope to see more from you all very soon!

Now onto the stories :)

Hanukkah by Sivan325 for inkandella (James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Rated G) Steve watched as James’s dad lit the shammash, and then turned to ask him, “Would you like to light the first candle?”

White and Pink Drifting Past Your Cheek by inkandella for lavenderism (Peter Quill/Thor, Rated G) Healing was a slow process, and sometimes it looked like it would never happen at all. Thor had an idea to maybe help both of them.

I wanna see your face and know I made it home by endlesstwanted for Blizzard_Fire (Bruce Banner/Steve Rogers, Rated G) Bruce and Steve are the two first people to settle in the Tower, and they want to make the other feel at home.

The Secret Ingredient by Brimstone_Assembly for 42donotpanic (Clint Barton/Matt Murdock, Rated T) After a rough night of superheroing, Clint makes Matt some hot cocoa.

Bucky and the Mentor by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy (hutchabelle) for lokivsanubis (James "Bucky" Barnes & Brock Rumlow, Brock Rumlow/Sam Wilson, Rated T) NYPD officer Bucky Barnes is excellent at his job—partly because he’s talented, skilled, and compassionate to the people he protects and serves. He also has an outstanding mentor who’s trained and guided him during his career. When he meets up with Brock Rumlow for one of their frequent get-togethers, he can’t resist poking a little fun.

Devilish sex by 42donotpanic for Brimstone_Assemby (Loki/Matt Murdock, Rated E) "He didn't tell Loki what he wanted. He didn't have to. The other person knew how to react and, almost instinctively, turned with the vigilante, ending up on top of him again. Matt didn't mean to react to the quick change in position, but he couldn't help a soft moan when the half-god's full body weight was on his lap again, a familiar hardness pressing into him. The arousal building up in him was enough of a distraction that Matt didn’t notice when Loki leaned over him again until cool fingers touched his ribs. A soft chuckle was the only answer to his gasp. It was a new sound, a fond laugh, nowhere near the mischievous snicker the rest of the world had gotten to hear. It was a private sound, and Matt guessed he was one of few people who ever got to hear it."This was written for the Marvel Rare Pair Bingo Secret Santa for theorderofthetriad I hope you enjoy!

The Politically Correct Holiday Party by lokivsanubis for buckybarnesdeservestobehappy (hutchabelle) (James "Bucky" Barnes/Peggy Carter, Brock Rumlow/Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Rated G) At the annual Politically Correct Holiday Party held at Shield High School all the staff gathered for a secret Santa exchange. And for Peggy Carter, it's going to be a gift exchange to remember.

Want What You Want and Can't Where You Can't by TheUltimateUndesirable for Wolfsheart (James "Bucky" Barnes/Loki, Rated M) Bucky drastically underestimated what he was getting into when he agreed to be Loki’s fake boyfriend to please the masses. It’s not the history or lies that got to him. No, in the end it ended up being Loki himself. Something everyone warned him about. Generally speaking since he highly doubted any of them expected the two of them to actually become friends. Let alone the more he desires.

sleep in by lavenderism (vorpalinas) for Sivan325 (Logan/Scott Summers, Rated G) He doesn’t want to open his eyes just yet, and not because of the consequences doing so would bring, but because he wants this moment to last just a little longer. It’s warm here and, besides, he wouldn’t be able to crawl out of bed if he wanted to. His limbs are too tangled with another’s to allow much movement.

Under Your Protection by TrashficParlour for Kleenexwoman (James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Rated G) James couldn’t help the wide grin that spread upon his face at that. He was doing something right. So right, in fact, that a forest spirit knew who he was.

I Just Can't Give You Up by Blizzard_Fire for TrashficParlour (Bruce Banner/Justin Hammer, Rated T) Justin tasks Bruce with "keeping an eye" on Tony Stark. Bruce's attempts to stall him somehow turn into flirty texts and dinners at fancy restaurants, until it's hard to tell how much of this is still a charade. The other Avengers think Bruce is getting in too deep, but Bruce starts to realise that there's much more to Justin Hammer than anyone realises...

Michelle Jones Always Expects Failure by Writerpete for TheUltimateUndesirable (Michelle Jones/Wanda Maximoff, Rated T) Because then she will never be disappointed. - Michelle Jones isn't the best at socializing, and she doesn't have to be. Because she doesn't need friends. She doesn't need to stand around waiting for people to accept or love her.But maybe MJ needs to learn how to socialize so she can find a new roommate.

Bringing in the New Year by scottxlogan for endlesstwanted ( Yelena Belova/Kate Bishop , Rated T) Kate Bishop has decided to spend the winter season with Lucky in the city away from it all just sorting her life out. On the eve of New Year's Eve at a NYC bar Kate discovers an old familiar face is back in town and set on delivering a special message to her.This was written for the Marvel Rare Pair Bingo Secret Santa for endlesstwanted and I hope they enjoy it :)

Diamond In The Rough - An Emma Frost Story by alex_greene for scottxlogan (Logan & Scott Summers, Emma Frost, Rated T) Emma Frost spends Christmas Eve rescuing her favourite boys, Scott "Cyclops" Summers and Wolverine, after they get into a scrape while saving the day. They enjoy themselves so much that they forget what day it is.

All the way home I'll be warm by Wolfsheart for Writerpete (Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Loki & Peter Parker, Rated T) After saving the world a few times, Peter Parker feels older than he should, is a bit moody, even post-holiday gift exchange and food eaten and all the other feel-good moments with his Avengers family. He thinks no one notices, but of course, two in particular do and provide the much-needed comfort and advice.

A Taste of Orange and Plum by Kleenexwoman for alex_greene (Emma Frost/Erik Lehnsherr, Rated G) Emma Frost and Magneto share holiday treats on Krakoa.

Thanks to everyone who participated. The collection can be found here.

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luiz-henrique · 5 months

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="[ A GRANDE CLAVÍCULA , LIVRO QUATRO 🍀 -: SECÇÃO H , SUB-SECÇÃO H -ÔMEGA - OCTAVUS ]"=

"={ As Nove Co-Tutoras de DOBIA-AMBROSINA -: Parte Sétima }"=

" e que LÓKI com Outra Máscara Facética , Apresentação e Nome , Desdobrado Ante Si é o mesmo CHERNOBOG e que AKER , e mesmo AKERBELTZ é Um dos Reflexos Espelhados de CHERNOBOG ..., como os Seres que Não Procedem desta Terra 🌎🌍 Disseram , e Falaram Também que Estes que São Este -: uma Personificação Deidática : Deidade Específica com seus Reflexos Espelhados -: SETH-: THYPHÓN - SETH-: THYPHÓN - PROMETEU - FAETONTE (com Outra Retratação no Panteão Grego - Romano Não Alterado) - PHÓSPHORUS : FÓSFORO : HEÓSPHORO - LÚCIFER (LUXIFERUS) - LÓKI (LÓKI)-: FARBAUTI , SLEIPNIR , NARI , SURTUR : SURTR , FENRIR : FENRIS - CHERNOBOG - AKERBELTZ (...)-: ➡️ " Estes que são Este..., ao qual e aos quais AHRIMAN com seus Reflexos Espelhados Inumeráveis se Fusionou...," e que por sua vez (...)-: ➡️ se Fusionou , Lógo -: com Estes e Outros de seus Reflexos Espelhados , se Fusionaram a HELLÍASTHER..., Porém DESTACADOS..., onde os Seres Disseram -: " AKERBELTZ É VOCÊ MESMO , EM QUANTO A HELLÍASTHER 🌈⚖️⚔️🗝️🚪🎼🎵💀🕶️💺🪞🖤 (...)!-:

Pois Estes que São Este , Procedem no Terem Sido Emanados pelo mesmo PRINCÍPIO DEIDÁTICO -: ESPECÍFICO ...,(DEIDADE no Assentativo , Sendo Mais que DEIDADE , e em desde DEIDADE se Traduz como DIVINO e Simultaneamente VARIANTE DEMONÍCO , e PURAMENTE DEMONÍACO , e BESTIAL , e DISTINTOS AO MESMO INDIZÍVEL) (...)"-: que Emanou TIAMAT - NYX- PERSÉFONE - LILITH...,

como Também KINGÚ : QINGU - ABZU -: APSU - HEA - EL - ENKI- DAGON ...,

como Também EREBO : EREBUS e PTAH- RA que Desdobrado Ante Si é HADITH ..., AMON- RA que Desdobrado Ante Si em Outra Faceta é ODIN : WODEN : WOTAN : WIDENAZ , e ainda -: MARDUK , e ainda MITHRA , do qual sua Outra Faceta Desdobraa é HÉLIO- MITHRA , e então HÉLIO , que suas Outras Facetas e Reflexos são BELENNUS - HÉOL , SVAROG , LUGH , SHAMMASH , que de HÉLIO , APOLO , o SOL INVICTUS é um de seus Reflexos Espelhados...,

o mesmo PRINCÍPIO DEIDÁTICO (DEIDADE) ESPECÍFICO que Emanou LILITH da qual Dentre seus Inumeráveis Reflexos Espelhados estão a própria como -: AZ- JEH , JORMUNGANDR , SINMÖRA , NINNGHIZHIDDA , UMBRIA , BABA YAGA ...,

o mesmo PRINCÍPIO DEIDÁTICO (DEIDADE) ESPECÍFICO que Nesta Ordem Emanou (...)-:

CLARINNÉA , HEDRAHMNÉA , ARGÊNTHEA , RUDRAHEXTHILLAH e HEMNACIOPÉIA ....,

e o que foi Amaldiçoado por CHYREN -:

ASTHREÁLPHIX...,

e o próprio HELLÍASTHER (...)!!! ! !!!

Onde LÚCIFER Ordenou para LUCIFUGO ROFOCALE dar Sustentação Coordenadora às Preçes Estafante , algumas vão de 2 à 4 horas , do Descrente ...,

Também Atuando Nesta Coordenação Sustentadora ASTARTÉ , HÉCATE (HEKATE) , DRUJ-I- NASU , ÁRTEMIS e OUTRAS ESPECÍFICAS , e o mesmo AKERBELTZ...,

onde Voltando Aquela Visão no Algo Lustroso que Atua como Espelho 🪞 , por Cima da Imagem do Demônio com Gorro de Três Pontas com Bolas no Extremo como o " Louco do Tarô " , Representando Ali , LUCIFUGO ROFOCALE , a Ponta Central do Gorro Não se Via , pois estava Dobrada para a Nuca do Demônio , onde as das Laterais , Formavam Algo Similar a Chifres , na Imagem Sustentando uma Cadeira Negra Flutuando em Cima da Face do Demônio que Não Mostrou o Corpo , à estar Olhando para mim...,

e na Cadeira Sem Pés , Negra em Onde se Senta , se Via Deitado com o Dorso ali Encostado e as Pernas Unidas e Encostadas na Parede fazendo o Exercício de Yoga que alguns Chamam Viparita...,

e Este Alguém era Escuro como o Alcatrão ou Betume , o que Significava ?

Estava no Corredor que Vai para a Copa , pois as vezes , para Variar faço ali minhas Orações...,

Viparita Exercício Ligado a Yoga , Não faço Tal Exercício , entretanto entendi a Mensagem -: na Yoga Certos Faquires ateControlam os Ritmos Cardíacos e da Respiração , alguns podem Levantar o Braço até o Sangue Descer e Secar - Aspas (Metáfora)...,

Aquele na Cadeira Representava o mesmo Descrente e o Exercício Representava -: Sacrifício...,

Sou Obrigado a fazer a Mortalha das Preces , Mais que Estafantes por Causa do Não Humano Despojo Repugnante ou Contrário Infrator Específico ou Intruso Parasita Que ASTHREÁLPHIX e Seres Específicos no Pragmático que se Excedeu em Crime Contra meu Referencial , então Prenderam desde 18 de Agosto de 2002 até o Presente 2024...,💀🕶️➡️⏳🔍⌛...,

dentro da Ala Involucrada Separada de Henrique , no Interior da Sincronização Inversa que Incidiram Sobre Henrique...,

e Tal Despojo Repugnante Sem sair da Ala Involucrada Criou com Incidências e Mais uma Aberração ou humanóide : Cria , que os Seres Apontam como Carcaça Maldita e a Interpôs ou seja colocou em Outra Frequência no mesmo Onde que Ocupa Luiz Henrique Dentro da Sincronização Inversa e em Compressão Esmagadora Sobre Henrique , e na Predisposição de Processão para Assi o Despojo Repugnante ou Contrário Infrator Específico Destruir Henrique , o que Não Acontece pois a Sincronização Inversa Rebate e o Fustra Continuamente , onde a Tal Carcaça Maldita ou Cria Aderiu Integrada a mesma desde o Maldito que a Criou , uma Aspersão como um Cone Inverso que Abre as Bases ao Altos se Reconfigura e Desde e Virou Assim um Invólucro Englobador que Rodeia Henrique Dentro da Sincronização Inversa por Cima e por Todos os Lados , menos Abaixo , como uma Redoma ou Cúpula Maldita Integrada na Aberração que Segrega Sobre Henrique Tudo o que é Pútrido , Decrépito , Retrógrado , Sujo , e Daninho com Mesclas de Ectoplasma , Ideoplastia , Bioplasma e Mais e com Podridão que o Contrário Infrator Específico Extraí de Pessoas Decréptas , Errantes e Similares , e de Tudo o que é Pôdre e Sujo e Arremessa Continuamente Contra Henrique , Além do Emaranhado e Nódulos que Jazem no Emplastro Aderido a Tal Redoma , ali Henrique Vê o que o Maldito Projeta , Pornografia , Sujeira , Obscenidade , Palavrões Sussurrados pelo Maldito que Ante a Percepção do Descrente como que perdido e Esquecido por DEUS e pelo DIABO...,

Simula e Remodela o Som Exterior de Vozes como a dos vizinhos , Onde os Seres Afirma -: Isto é do Plagiador para te Atormentar , Não se Identifique com o Referido , etc...,

e Tudo Isto é Rebatido Continuamente pela Sincronização Inversa , Passa como Nuvens , Onde o Descrente as Vê passando podendo ou não se Identificar com o Certo ou com o Errado pelo seu Livre Arbítrio , mas a Sincronização Inversa o Ajusta em Contínuo , como um Experimento Maldito de Taís Seres Específicos e Alienígenas Malditos , que disseram -:

" Estamos Contornando o que Outros que Foram Expurgados das Forças Superiores do Mais Além desta Terra 🌎🌍 te Promoveram ...,

Lógo Teu Ódio nos Acusará Ante um Conselho Ultra-Transcendente para o qual Entregaremos Nossas Insígnias e Credenciais e Aguardaremos sua Sentença (...)! "

Disseram que 5 Vão Aparecer por Detrás de Algo que as Embaça , pois Não é dado ao Contrário Infrator Específico que está Preso na Ala Involucrada dentro da Sincronização Inversa , já que Tudo o que o Descrente Vê e Escuta ,o Maldito Também Vê e Escuta...,

e do Algo que as Embaça , dito no Prefácio de INDUMENTÁRIA DESLUMBRANTE Ditada por Estes Seres , se Distendem Fachos Horizontais , Corredores , e Assim as Embaçadas com Formas de Variação de Holograma Compacto Materializado , Mas suas Presenças Desdobradas ante Si , Vão Até o Descrente , Ante o mesmo as ver , Acordado deste Módo , Estas pois -: " Mais que Odeio Tais Seres Específicos e Vou Adiante Matar ASTHREÁLPHIX...",

Eram Cinco , Não perguntei se Aumentou o Número -: ASTARTÉ , HÉCATE , FREYJA , ÁRTEMIS e ASHERAH , às quais se Reuniram , como Responderam os Seres neste agora , AZ- JEH e HEZAHLLIÉDRAH ...,

onde ASHERAH Envia Algo Através de ASTARTÉ que no Distender até o Descrente Aciona Algo que Quebra a Redoma Maldita ou Invólucro Englobador que é Integrado a Cria ou Carcaça Maldita e a Empurra para Trás Tirando Henrique da Interposição e Fazendo o Despojo Repugnante ou Contrário Infrator Específico que está Preso na Ala Involucrada ser Jogado Quase Desmaiado e Turbado no Chão , onde está Preso Dentro da Sincronização Inversa....,

ASHERAH : ATHIRATH pode Sair do Corredor que Distender do Embaçador e Algo que Focaliza Centralizado o Tele - Transporte , sem estar Embaçada pois Seu Semblante é " a Face da Morte...,"

Então Estas Aguardam CLARINNÉA em Presença Amálgama , onde Era para ser HÉSTHER HÁLGAMAS HÉLLIONDRAH , entretanto Projetei meu ÓDIO Nesta , dado a Demora que Tenho que ficar Ligado a Tal Cascão Execrável ou Referencial Elaborado -: Luiz Henrique e ainda o Ter que Suportar a Maldição de estar em Meio a (...)-: " Tal Mundo Infértil e Condenado...,"

mas lhe Pedi Desculpas...,

então se Adiantou a própria CLARINNÉA , Deste Módo que Puxará o Descrente para Fora da Sincronização Inversa , ficando uma Réplica no Lugar de Luiz Henrique que Deixará o Elaborado de Existir e a Réplica fica para -: "ser dada como Morta ", Sob o Raio de Outra Sincronização Não Inversa , Enquanto a Sincronização Inversa é Arrastada para Fora do Espaço e do Universo , Precisamente para (...)-: " o Grande Vazio Interposto e Inter-Compenetrado por Distintos...,"

e Ali a Aumentam para a Ultra Frequência com o Contrário Infrator Específico Dentro Tendo sua Amálgama Preciosa Esmagada , Aquela que lhe dá Estados Além da própria Existência...,

Então Ele se Desintegra Extinto e a Sincronização Inversa se Desvanece...,

no Mais Além , ante Luiz Henrique Deixando de Existir...,

HENRICH se Fusiona ao Si próprio como HELLÍASTHER , e Deste Desdobrado em Outra Estrutura e Aparência , Já na Conversão pela qual pode ser chamado CHYREN , Já com o Título Atributal de AL' DAJJAL..., com o Reflexo de LÓKI-* ..., em Si , no mesmo Simultâneo Ajustado Aparece em NIFLHEIM , Acompanhado das Três -: DOBIA-AMBROSINA , DRUDE e BABA YAGA...,

Acompanhado Também de AGLAOPHÊNIA , NICKASA , FADA WOWIWRE das Relvas , FADA LICÓRNA , ERDA : HERTHA , DRUJ-I- NASU e OUTRAS , e do próprio AKERBELTZ -: que Atuam em Sincronia com as Forças Superiores do Mais Além desta Terra 🌎🌍..., Escoltados por JORMUNGANDR e FENRIR FENRIS Ante o Vislumbrar de LÓKI (LÓKI) até o Palácio e Mais de HEL...,

para ESTÁGIO COM ALGO MAIS..., e Após Certo Período Seguem para ZAIS que é a Verdadeira ARCÁDIA , da qual falou o mesmo Howard Philips Lovecraft ..., onde em dados Lugar de ZAIS- ARCÁDIA , eis que MELUSINA Tem um Palácio em Meio a Algo Similar a um Ducado...,

Ali para Estadia , Reuniões e Mais...,

e Ante o Encontro com LILITH , A RAINHA DA NOITE...,

para em Sincronia com as Decisões das Forças Superiores do Mais Além desta Terra 🌎🌍..., Tratar Sobre o que Prepara o Advir do RAGNAROK , ARMAGEDDON ..., no (...)-: CUMPRIMENTO DOS DESÍGNIOS DIVINOS (...)!!! ! !!! "

(Continua em H-ÔMEGA - NONUS)

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