#yes he is the aunt that steals the family baby when visiting to coo and play with

[cosmicwhoreo]

somebody once asked how Taranza (among other guys who i wouldn't personally trust around a baby) would interact with Taffeta, and I figured i'd give ya'll wholesome Taffy-related stuff for once. As well as have an excuse to draw mr. I miss my ex wife tails

Spider guy would absolutely adore the little prince, on no small part due to the lil' tot's overwhelming cheeriness and fluff. being an absolute sucker for babies and wanting to have a family before.... Well... It still took the king a while to come around to Taranza when they visited, even back then...

[mangled-dreams]

Presents

Presents.

Anti x Reader for the lovely @dasistmeinekinder. This one is a two part story. The second part will be posted here shortly. I hope you enjoy the story. 

PART TWO (coming soon).

“Anti, for the love of everything holy, please step away from the tree and sit down on the couch. I just need to finish my eye shadow and we can go over to Sean’s for dinner.” You promise seeing Anti in the reflection of your mirror step back from the brightly decorated Christmas tree.

You have a very special Christmas gift since it’s your first Christmas as a married couple. You’ve celebrated a few Christmases together but this one is even more special. This year you have a big surprise for him.

“Are you done?” Anti asks looking at the small rectangular box perched on a cluster of braches that’s grown close together. You knew it’d been the perfect tree when you saw the slight imperfections. It reminds you of you and Anti. You don’t need to be perfect to everyone, simply perfect for each other.

You watch Anti pace back and forth, staring at the gift like it's the answer to all questions in the universe. You roll your eyes at him and go back to your make up. It's almost comical, watching Anti fight with himself over a small box. You chuckle, telling him, "You can wait another 24 hours for your present."

You barely hear Anti mutter, "I hate waiting," nearly out of your hearing range.

You smile at your reflection and set down your brush. “Yes, Anti, I’m done.”

“Great! Let’s get this bad idea over with!” Anti says. He’s been against seeing his…other half for weeks now, well…longer actually. It’s not that Anti and Sean don’t get along. It’s like a sibling rivalry that just never changes.

“Awe,” you coo smiling up at Anti. He glares down at you but still wraps an arm around your waist, escorting you out the front door. You note he doesn’t head towards your car and your stomach drops a little. “Anti, we’re no—t…” Anti doesn’t let your finish as he teleports you both to Sean’s rental house. You cover your mouth, fighting the urge to throw up when your feet hit solid ground. You don’t win.

Doubling over you throw up on the grass, coughing a little when you’re stomach finally settles. Anti watches you with curiosity. You’ve never thrown up before.

“Are you okay?” he asks holding on to you by your elbow as you sway a little.

You nod your head. “Yeah, I must have ate something weird.” You say taking a napkin from your bag and dab at the corners of your mouth. You can see Anti doesn’t fully believe you, but it’s not like you to lie about such things. You smile at him, trying to reassure him.

Normally you can handle his teleporting, but after trying your Aunt Tulip's homemade peanut brittle, your stomach has been having issues. You honestly wonder what the hell she put into it, but mainly your worry is your hair. It rarely likes to do what you want and ruining it while teleporting is not your idea of a good time.

Sean answers the door within seconds of you knocking and ushers you both in. You give Sean a hug telling him it’s good to see each other again before walking into the open living room. You see a few familiar faces and wave or say hello.

You leave Anti to talk with Sean, walking over to Chase. “Hey CB. How goes it?” You ask smiling at Chase. You already know Chase isn't doing well. His ex-wife has been completely unreasonable with custody of their kids, especially around Christmas. You've been helping him fight back with the legal system. Your step father, William, just so happens to have a law firm and specializes in custody battles.

You see the sadness in his eyes and your smile changes just a little. "Stacy still won't let me see the kids." Chase says looking away to the window. He wants nothing more than to see his kids again, and since he's join forces with Sean, he no longer has to worry about making ends meat for his family.

"Oh, CB, it'll get better! Dad says he has great news for you!" You tell Chase watching a little light come back to his face.

"Really?" Chase asks. You nod your head, retrieving your phone from your small clutch and leaf through your text messages.

"Oh, hey, he wants to know if he can stop by for a few minutes!" You say feeling a little giddy over the message from your dad.

"What? Yeah! Totally, if it's good news tell 'im to come on over!" Chase cheers, more life beginning to filter into his soul. You smile, nod your head, and respond with the address to your Dad.

Dr. Schneeplestein saunters over, already a little tipsy from whatever alcohol Sean usually has hanging somewhere around his house or rental. You roll your eyes. The good doctor is quite pleasant, when sober. Once he starts drinking he become quite the asshole.

One you avoid like the plague.

"Dad said he'd be over in about twenty minutes." You tell Chase as Dr. Schneeplestein stops just short of your uncomfortable zone. "Doctor." you greet in a flat tone.

"Oh, Anti's little pet, how are you to-zay?" Dr. Schneeplestein says looking you over with some amount of disinterest. You glare at him.

Your really don't like the doctor, and--thankfully--neither does Anti. They're civil with each other, but there is not a whole long of caring. "Oh, starting that again, huh?" You ask looking from Dr. Schneeplestein with a quick eye roll.

"What should I call you?" he challenges.

"His wife, or ya know, my name?" you respond quickly, well snap at him. For whatever reason, when he has alcohol in his system, you find it easier to understand him.

Before the good doctor can respond to you Anti steals you away, he'd seen the tension rising and came to assist you. As much as he enjoys a good spat match, he doesn't want anything to happen to you. "Having a pleasant conversation?" he asks already knowing you weren't.

"Of course not, but I do love you came to rescue me." You say twisting in Anti's arms and wrap your own around his neck. You smile lovingly up at Anti. "Are you having at least a little bit of fun?" you ask.

"It's not that worse." he tells you.

You chuckle, standing on your tip toes to place a kiss against his lips. Anti holds you a little tighter.

It's almost a half hour before your dad texts you again, but it's what you've been waiting for. Leaving the small group of faces you enjoy to see you go to the door and open it, beaming at your dad. "I love you so much for this, Dad!" You say wanting to shout and cheery, but you can't.

"Is our dad here?" Delilah asks looking at you. You smile big at her.

"Yes, he doesn't know you're here, so....shhh." you say smiling at them. Their faces seems to liven up, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Dad, CB is in the lounge with Anti, can you go distract him a little?" you ask taking Chase Jr. and Delilah's hands. You know this will completely change Chase's holiday.

"Yes, I'll let him know I got him Christmas with the kids." your dad says heading to the lounge at your direction. You giggle, whispering a plan to the two near identical copies of Chase. "Your daddy is going to be so excited to see you." you add giggling with the pair.

"What? Really?" Chase nearly shouts his hands knocking his trademark hat off his head in his amazement of the news. "I get to see my kids? Really?" Chase asks starting to cry a little. It's been months since his last visit with the twins.

"Yes, to celebrate this change I've brought over a gift." You hear your dad say.

Nodding to the twins they run from around the corner shouting for their father. You have your phone recording as Chase drops to his knees, embracing his children against his chest. All around various voices are cheering, congratulating him, a few crying as Chase holds onto his babies, kissing them, telling them he loves and misses them.

Your won eyes mist up at the sight. You record for a few extra seconds before turning it off and putting it away. You walk away from the lounge to find your purse again, a little surprised to see Anti perched on the couch armrest, looking directly at you.

"Anti, what are you doing in here?" You ask picking up your purse and put your phone away. You notice a small ribbon next to Anti's leg and reach out to touch it realizing it's the ribbon you'd put on your present to Anti. Your head snaps up the question burning in your mind dying on your lips. Anti's holding the box in his hands.

Your cheeks burn as Anti holds the mysterious present in his hands. You look away from him. "Why couldn't you wait until tomorrow?" You ash shyly.

Anti smirks. "Because I knew this was something good." he responds holding up the coupon book your friend had talked you into buying.

"You heard me talking with Abigail!" you accuse watching Anti's smile widen. You smack his arm, nearly knocking the box from his hand.

Anti laughs, stands up, and traps you against his chest. "How about you and I head home, I have a few coupons I want to redeem with you." Anti says in a tone you can't deny. Your face burns but you can't deny Anti when he looks at you like this.

"I need to say good bye to my dad." you tell him weakly. Anti chuckles. He loves your dedication to your family.

"Will! Sean, everyone else I don't care about, we're leaving!" Anti shouts before taking you home moments later. The others are left dumbfounded by your sudden departure, but it's not a surprise. Anti can only handle being around everyone for so long.

Anti tosses you on the bed, your dress in tatters on the floor. His shirt is hanging open, neck tie loose around his neck. You smile as he leans over your, your hand loosely holding on to his neck tie. "Which ticket are you redeeming?" You ask in a surly tone.

Anti smirks, holding up a bright green coupon. "This one of course." he tells you. You smile, take the coupon and tear it in half.

"Alright, redeem your coupon."

[agheaven]

Kirsten and the Thief, by Janet Shaw

(Typed transcript from American Girl Magazine)

A rumbling stomach and a stolen cookie land Kirsten in a surprising dilemma.  “Papa, can’t you make Blackie trot any faster?” Kirsten called over the clatter of hooves on the dirt road.  “Let’s hurry!”     "Be patient, Kirsten,“ Papa said.  "Blackie’s got quite a load to pull."  But moments later Papa clucked and snapped the reins, and Kirsten could see that he was eager to get to Maryville, too.     It WAS a big load for Blackie to pull.  The entire Larson family was crowded into the wagon.  Kirsten, her cousins Anna and Lisbeth, and her brothers Lars and Peter sat with baskets of food packed tightly between them.  Toward the front, Mama held baby Britta on her lap and Aunt Inger clutched the family Bible.  Uncle Olav rode on the wagon seat beside Papa.       The Larsons were on their way to the special Sunday gathering with the other Swedish settlers.  The visiting pastor hadn’t been able to come to Maryville all winter, so today there will be two weddings and three christenings to celebrate.  When the prayers and hymns were over, everyone would share a special dinner.  Then the children would play and the parents would visit until it was time to start home again.  To Kirsten, this Sunday seemed almost as exciting as Christmas.     "I can’t wait for dinner!” Anna said.  “We’ll have cookies and cakes, won’t we?”     Peter pressed both hands to his stomach.  “I’m already so hungry my stomach hurts.”     Mama reached into a basket and held out a handful of dried cranberries.  “I bought these for a snack,” she said.     "I want something sweet, not sour berries,“ Peter said.     "You’d better take them,” Mama said firmly.  “You know we won’t eat until after church.”     "Why can’t we have our dinner before we have church?“ Peter complained.     "Because food for the spirit comes before food for the stomach,” Mama said.  She held out the berries again, and this time Peter reluctantly took a few.     Lisbeth nudged Kirsten’s arm.  “None for me.  I’d rather wait.  How about you?”     Kirsten nodded, but the truth was that her mind was filled with the scent of ginger from the basket by her feet.  All week she’d helped Mama bake cookies.  Now their sugar-and-spice aroma was making Kirsten’s mouth water.  She leaned over to tighten her bootlace and peeked at the mound of fragrant cookies wrapped in a clean napkin.     No one else seemed to notice the cookies.  Lisbeth, Anna, and Peter had begun to play a counting game.  Lars sanded a wooden whistle he’d carved.  Mama and Aunt Inger chatted with each other and cooed to baby Britta.     Kirsten sniffed the ginger cookies again.  They were awfully tempting!  When everyone else turned to look at a deer leaping across the road, she slipped her hand into the basket, broke off sugary bite, and quickly popped it into her mouth.     "Kirsten’s sneaking a cookie!“ Peter yelped.     Mama’s stern gaze fell on Kirsten.  "Kirsten Larson, I’m surprised at you,” she said.  “You know those are for sharing with our friends.”     Kirsten felt herself blush.  She knew she shouldn’t have sneaked a cookie before dinner.  But Peter, that tattletale, hadn’t done a single thing to help with their meal, while she’d grated and measured and stirred right along with Mama.  Didn’t she deserve just one bite?     Kirsten’s face was burning with shame and indignation when suddenly - crack! - the wagon lurched hard to the left.  Everyone was jolted against the side, and Papa pulled Blackie to a shuddering halt.  “Now what?” Papa said.  He climbed out of the wagon with Uncle Olav right behind him.     "Some spokes came loose in the wheel,“ Uncle Olav said after a moment.  "Everyone out while we take it off and fix it.”     Kirsten and the others piled out of the wagon while Mama and Aunt Inger began to straighten the tumbled-over baskets and jugs.     Suddenly Mama cried in a low voice, “Oh, no!  The basket with the ham and bread isn’t here!  I was going to put it in last, but I forgot it!  What could I have been thinking of?”     Aunt Inger patted Mama’s shoulder.  ‘With so many things to remember, it’s a wonder we forget more,“ she said gently.     Mama looked as if she might cry.  That ham was special.  The Larsons were lucky to eat ham once or twice a year.  Last autumn Papa had salted two hams and packed them away in the bin of oats to dry.  Mama had cooked one for a holiday dinner.  A few days ago she had unpacked the other ham, soaked it to draw out the salt, and boiled it.  Then yesterday she stuck cloves into the ham and baked it till the cabin filled with the appetizing scent of spicy meat.  This ham was to be their offering to the celebration dinner.�� But if they went home to fetch it after the wagon was fixed, they’d miss the church service.  They couldn’t do that!     Then Kirsten had an idea.  If she went back for the ham while the men fixed the wheel, surely Mama would forget her displeasure at the stolen cookie.  "Mama, listen!” Kirsten cried.  “I can ride Blackie to the cabin while you wait.  I’ll be back with the ham by the time we’re ready to go! We’ll be on time for church and have your ham for dinner!”     To Kirsten’s surprise, Mama didn’t argue.  Instead, she looked relieved.  “Lars has to help the men, or I’d send him,” Mama said.  “You’re a good rider, Kirsten, but don’t gallop when you’re carrying the basket.  It could spill.”     "I promise, Mama!“ Kirsten said.     Papa unhitched Blackie and gave Kirsten a leg up onto his back.  Then Papa slapped the horse on the rump to signal, 'Get going’.  And Kirsten was on her way. It wasn’t long before Kirsten saw the cluster of little log buildings huddled under the gray sky.  Already she felt how grateful everyone would be when she rode up with the loaded basket.  She was picturing Mama’s pleased face when, to her surprise, she saw a dark figure round the corner of the cabin.  The figure paused at the door and, after a moment, went inside!     Kirsten reined Blackie to a halt by some scrub pine and peered through the branches.  Who had cone into their cabin?  She knew sometimes Indians helped themselves to food.  She’d heard sometimes men stole guns and bullets.  Was a thief in their home?  Kirsten’s heart stuttered with fear.     She slid off Blackie and crept up to the cabin.  What could she do to frighten away a thief?  If only Papa or Uncle Olav were here!  She shivered, but kept going until she crouched under a window and peeked in.     No lamp was lit inside, so it was hard to see clearly.  Kirsten could just make out a thin figure in a skirt with a  bundle on her shoulder.  Kirsten watched as the figure moved to the table and bent over the big basket they’d left behind.  She was going to steal the ham they had all looked forward to since autumn!     Anger flared in Kirsten’s chest.  Forgetting everything but the ham, she raced to the cabin door and burst inside.  "Stop!” she cried.     Instantly, the woman crouched behind the table as though it would protect her.  Kirsten knelt, too, and found herself face to face with a very young woman, almost no more than a girl.  Her eyes were wide with alarm, and in her hands was a loaf of bread.  The raggedy bundle she clutched against her shoulder whimpered.  It was a baby.     Kirsten stood.  Now the last of her fear disappeared.  “What are you doing here?” she said indignantly.  Her voice sounded like Mama’s when she scolded.  The girl rose and silently put the loaf of bread back into the basket.     Kirsten lit the lamp.  As the flame leaped up, she saw the girl more clearly.  Her wrists were bony, here hair was matted, and she wore a dress so soiled it was the color of dust.  Her lips were cracked and dry.  She looked only a little older than Lars, but her face was wrinkled like a dried apple and her eyes were exhausted.  “Who are you?” Kirsten said.     The girl didn’t answer.  Her gaze went to the framed paper on the wall that certified the Larsons were Swedish citizens and had been educated in reading, writing, and Holy Scripture.  Then it moved to the woven cloth covering the table, the candlesticks, and the butter box of split birch.  She looked at Britta’s cradle and Peter’s painted wooden horse and the extra shawls hanging neatly on pegs.     "You don’t need to know my name,“ the girl said at last.  Her voice was sullen.     "So you DO speak English!” Kirsten said.     "I went to school, too!“ the girl hissed.  "That’s a school paper, isn’t it?"  She nodded to the certificate on the wall.     "Yes, it’s our permit to leave Sweden,” Kirsten said with a frown.  What right had this strange girl to ask questions of her?  “Where do you live?” she demanded.     "We live a few bends up the river, in a cave, like a den of foxes!“ the girl said bitterly.  "We don’t even have canvas over our heads.”     This girl’s family was so poor they didn’t even have a tent or a sod house!  Papa had told Kirsten about down-on-their-luck settlers like these.  They were forced to live in caves or dugouts.  Some had so few farming skills that they had nothing to eat but wild game.  Kirsten was curious in spite of herself.  “Where did you come from?” she said, a little more politely.     The girl jiggled the baby but couldn’t calm its whimper.  “Our name is Rynd,” she said.  “We came from Moravia.”     "Have you been in this country long?“ Kirsten asked.     "Too long!” the girl said.  “We should have stayed in Moravia!  We had a cottage there.  We had chairs and a table and a bed.  We were as rich as you!”     Rich? thought Kirsten.  Before the Larsons came to America they had gone to bed hungry almost every night of their lives.  They’d arrived in Minnesota with only two trunks and a few bundles.     "Do others from your homeland live here, too?“ Kirsten said.     The girl shook her head.  "There’s only me, my husband, and my old mother,” she said.  “Listen, I didn’t do any harm.  I’m leaving now.”     But Kirsten wasn’t ready to let her go so easily.  The girl had taken their bread.  She would surely have taken their ham, too, if Kirsten hadn’t caught her.  “You were stealing from us,” Kirsten said accusingly.     The baby pushed its face against the girl’s shoulder and began to wail.  “We’re hungry,” the girl said.  “We had some potatoes, but they’re gone now.  We don’t even have salt.  I came to beg for scraps, but no one was here."  She sat and rested her head on her fist as if this speech had taken the last of her strength.  "Could I have a drink of water?”     Alarmed, Kirsten filled a cup with water from the jug.  Is the girl ill from hunger? she thought.  Quickly, she cut two thick slices of bread and put them beside the cup.  The girl drank and ate greedily.  As Kirsten watched, she remembered the taste of Mama’s ginger cookies on her tongue.  How terrible it would be to beg for food, she thought.  Her throat tightened with sympathy.  The girl swallowed the last bite and said, “That was good.”     "Can I give bread to your baby, too?“ Kirsten said.  The little thing was sucking desperately on its fist.  Kirsten thought of baby Britta with her healthy, plump face.     "My baby’s too young for solid food,” the girl said.  “She cries because I don’t have enough milk.”     Kirsten pulled a stool next to the girl’s and sat down.  She tried to imagine living with a baby in a dugout cave without any food.  “What will happen to you?  How will you live?” she said.     "I don’t know, and that’s the truth,“ the girl said.  "This winter we had to eat our seed potatoes so we wouldn’t starve.  Now we have nothing to plant.”     "You’ve been living up the river from here all winter?“ Kirsten said wonderingly.  "But I’ve never seen you.”     "I’ve seen you from a distance,“ the girl said grimly.  "You were a wool sweater and leather boots."  She rubbed her eyes.  "Do you know what I think about every day?”     "What do you think about?“ Kirsten said.  Would the girl say 'food’ or 'home’?     The girl rested her head against her baby’s.  I think about the day we came here,” she said.  “The boatmen put us and our few things onto the shore.  My mother sat on our one chair.  My husband helped push the boat back into the current.  I turned and looked behind us.  There was nothing but prairie and sky.  Nothing.  We were all alone.”     Kirsten remembered her own family’s long, long walk from the boat landing to Uncle Olav’s farm  she also remembered the warm welcome they’d received when they got here.  They had never been truly 'all alone’ - not for a single moment.  Gazing around, Kirsten saw how cozy their cabin was.  It was filled with good things Mama and Papa had made.  It smelled of the delicious food.  Like the girl’s family the Larsons had come with very little, but look how much they had now!     "You’ve had a hard time,“ Kirsten said.     "Yes.  But until winter we had hope,” the girl said.  “Now that’s gone, too.”     "Oh, don’t say so!“ Kirsten cried.  "you can find hope again if you don’t lose heart!  My mama says never to lose heart.”     The girl gazed at her with narrow eyes.  “We can’t even find food,” she said.  “Where can we possibly find hope?”     Kirsten bit her lip  What should she do?  The girl and her family were starving.  Kirsten could give them bread, but that wouldn’t go far.  What about the ham itself, with its crisp, spicy skin?  Meat would be the most nourishing.  Kirsten imagined her own family waiting for her on the road to Maryville.  Mama was already cross with Kirsten.  Wouldn’t she be angry if Kirsten didn’t bring the ham for the family and all their friends?  And it did smell so delicious!     Kirsten struggled another moment, then made a decision.  She stood, seized the basket of ham and bread, and shoved it toward the girl.  “Take this to your family.  It will give you strength.”     The girl’s mouth dropped open in surprise.  Then she grasped the heavy basket and, without a word of thanks, rushed to the door as though she feared Kirsten might change her mind.  She ran awkwardly into the trees with her burdens and was gone. Kirsten let Blackie gallop.  When she got close to the others, she saw Mama shadowing her eyes to watch her come.  She knew Mama was wondering where the basket was.  There were going to be lots of questions, and maybe there would be blame as well.  As she jumped off Blackie, she said, “Don’t say anything until I tell you what happened, please!”     Everyone crowded close as Kirsten told about surprising the hungry girl and her baby in their cabin.  As Kirsten spoke, she looked anxiously from Mama to Papa.  Papa was frowning thoughtfully.  Mama glanced from Kirsten to Aunt Inger and the others.  Peter’s face was red and unhappy.     "Are you awfully angry with me?“ Kirsten said hesitantly.     Mama put her arm around her.  "What kind of people would feast while their neighbors starved?” she said gently.  “If I’d been there, I’d have fed them, too, Kirsten.”     "But maybe not our ham!“ Peter wailed.     Mama took Peter by the hand.  "It isn’t always easy to share,” she said, “but it is always right.”     Papa stroked his beard as he considered the situation.  “You gave them one good meal, daughter,” he said.  “But they’re much worse off than I’d have guessed.  They’ll go hungry again if they don’t have better luck farming.  I’ll ask the men at church to pitch in.  We’ll give them what help we can.”     "We can take oxen to plow,“ Uncle Olav suggested.     "We can get them started with rutabagas, carrots, and onions,” Papa added.  As he spoke he hitched Blackie to the wagon.  “Come on everyone, climb in!”     Anna sat beside Kirsten.  “Tell us more about the girl,” Anna said.  “She must really be nice!  You wouldn’t have given her the ham if she weren’t really nice.”     Kirsten thought a moment.  “No, I don’t think I’d call her nice,” she said.  “Anyway, I didn’t give her food because she was nice.  I gave her food because she was hungry.”     She scooped up a few of the dried cranberries from the bottom of the basket and slipped one into her mouth.  As she bit into the sour berry, she imagined the girl and her family eating Mama’s bread and ham, and though her stomach rumbled, she was satisfied.

Thank you so much for this summary @platypusbutt! This is my first time reading this particular short story, so this is greatly appreciated!!

On a side note, I tried to put the summary under a read more, but tumblr is a mess and won’t let me add that to submissions!! I can edit the text around, but I can’t add it under a cut...tumblr’s a mess I swear...