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monzamash · 1 year

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when we first met — charles leclerc

summary – the love story of sophia ricciardo & charles leclerc, a story so magical that even a princess would be envious. pairing – daniel ricciardo's sister x charles leclerc (she/her pronouns) warnings – moderate language, implied sex, google translated french word count – 1.6k a/n – thank you @lverofminemcyt for the request! Such a great idea and maybe I'll continue this story in a longer format in the future. But for now, enjoy! masterlist

You were 20 when you met Charles for the first time

– or more accurately, gawked at him from across the paddock at Silverstone. You’d read in the news that there was a rookie driving for Sauber – a young, Monégasque man who by all accounts was the "next big thing" in the world of Formula One. You tried to keep up with the comings and goings of the sport while ignoring all the slander being written about your brother, Daniel. Hard to do but not impossible.

“Is that the new guy?” You asked Max once you were far enough away from the handsome stranger who was heading in the opposite direction. Max followed your eye line and scoffed, visibly irritated by your question.

“Yes but I wouldn’t say he's the new guy. He’s been racing his whole life and the pain in my arse for just as long,” Max grumbled. You weren’t aware of the rivalry between the two young men but after a long, detailed explanation, you understood that Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc had a checkered history.

“He’s not worth your time, Sophia.”

Of course you didn’t listen to Max. The ‘karting incident’ he described when they were literally children sounded like child’s play (because it was) and you weren’t the type to take one persons word for anything. Max had become a fast friend to you in the paddock when you’d join your family on race weekends but he had a reputation for stretching the truth and you weren’t about that.

The first time you were officially introduced to Charles was at Seb Vettel’s birthday party three days after his stunning British GP win. And the celebrations were in full effect. Daniel was also in the points that weekend and practically begged you to come along, not that you needed a lot of convincing. You knew a certain Monégasque driver would be there and you loved a party, especially one thrown at Lewis Hamilton’s lavish London pad.

It didn’t take long for your paths to cross, almost as if you were both searching for a moment to be introduced. Charles had been guilty of staring at you across the paddock on race weekends and it was shocking that the two of you hadn’t officially met yet. But he felt like he knew you already.

“Dunno know if you two have met yet but this is Charles,” Daniel introduced, putting a particularly thick French accent on your new acquaintances name, making you both snicker silently, “And this is my much younger and much less attractive sister, Sophia.” Arsehole.

Charles extended his hand towards you and as cheesy as it sounded, you could feel the sparks flying as your hands clasped together. They were softer than you imagined, bigger than you imagined and boy had you been thinking about them lately – pathetically desperate, of course. His green eyes glistened under the dim lights and you could have sworn they sparkled like in the movies. His dimples danced on his rosy cheeks as he smiled small and it was if time had stopped, you couldn’t look away.

“Hello,” You squeaked out, unable to form a full sentence before Charles stepped in and saved you from total embarrassment, “Nice to meet you, Sophia."

The way your name fell from his perfectly accented lips had you spinning and clutching his hand for way longer than normal. But Charles held on too, taken by your light brown eyes that were gazing into his own. He felt like you were staring into his soul, searching for his darkest secrets and he loved every second – the intensity intrigued him. Your long brown hair cascaded down the back of your silky dark green dress, accentuating every curve that had him scrambling for his words again. He was in love.

“So, yes, your Daniel’s sister,” Charles quickly cleared his throat and gently dropped your hand before stuffing his own, shaky ones into his jean jacket pockets. Get it together, he thought to himself.

“Umm…” You had been so caught up in your daze that you hadn’t realised Daniel had left your side and was making his way around the house, greeting everyone he set eyes on, “Yes… Yep! Danny's little sister.”

Little sister, you grimaced internally. You were hopeless when it came to matters of the heart, which was why you were perpetually single with no end in sight.

“I assumed so,” Charles politely replied with a nod, “So are living here in London or…”

Charles knew the answer to his question. He’d found himself mindlessly scrolling through your Instagram after the Monaco Grand Prix, hoping to find out everything he could about the mystery woman he'd noticed wandering around with the Red Bull Racing team. That’s how he found out you were Daniel’s sister and felt his heart skip a beat when he got to the end of your profile and hadn’t seen a photo of a boyfriend.

He brushed away that thought almost immediately, knowing it was probably a case of wishful thinking. There was no way you were single, he thought. From his perspective you seemed to be the life of the party, much like your older brother. You waltzed around the paddock as if it was your own fashion runway, saying hello to everyone you passed on your walk to the RBR motor homes. Smiling until your cheeks hurt. Charles was convinced you were an angel sent from above.

“Well technically I live in Oxford – doing university there at the moment or at least trying to,” You explained, nipping at your bottom lip nervously, “But Danny has an apartment in London that he rents here and I crash there when he’s away, which is pretty much all the time.”

Charles smiled and tried his best to follow what you were saying. Although he had worked with a few Aussies in his short career, he still struggled to understand some of the lingo from time to time. But he didn’t care if he only understood every fifth word you said. He could've listened to you talk about the fine arts degree you were studying or that the uber you took to the party charged you extra forever and a day. He was utterly captivated.

And that was the beginning of your blossoming friendship. Charles had become your new comrade around the paddock on the off chance you got away from uni and showed up at a race. You had also been making a few extra trips to Monte Carlo to visit your brother – or at least that's what you said to your friends and family. The friendly smile emoji quickly turned into a heart when you signed off a message and you could feel your heartbeat skip every time his name showed up on your screen. Charlie ❤️

Six months. Six whole months of flirting and pretending like you wanted to be anywhere else but with the man of your dreams. Every day started and ended with him, either via text or on Facetime and all that back and forth, wondering which one of you was going to make the first move was answered in a matter of seconds. There’s nothing quite like a few too many glasses of red wine to reveal one’s true feelings.

“I’m in love with you, chéri. Have been since the second I laid my eyes on you.”

The rest of that night with Charles was a blur and before you knew it, you were tangled somewhere between his chest and bed sheets, moaning his name into the cool Monaco air. His fingertips explored every inch of your skin with feverish lips following closely behind, leaving small, barely visible marks as he went. His eyes rarely left yours as you savoured every movement, every kiss, every breath – you wanted it all with him. All those sleepless nights wishing you were the one making him moan with pleasure, hearing your name tumble from his mouth like you’d never heard before. Watching his eyes roll into the back of his skull, gripping, praying that he could hold on a little bit longer. He'd yearned for it for too long to not savour every second.

All your wishes had been answered as you laid in Charles’ arms, slowly returning to earth and closing your weary eyes. Sighs of contentment the only sound swirling through the air.

“Tu es envoyé de ciel, mon amour.” you are heaven sent, my love.

You didn’t speak French but whatever he'd whispered sounded sweet as he gently pressed his lips to your temple and said goodnight.

Whenever you took a second to reflect on your four-year relationship with Charles, you realised that you'd effectively grown up together, side-by-side. He was sitting in the crowded auditorium when you graduated from University, cheering you on when you received your bachelor’s degree and you were standing in pit lane when he won his first GP in Belgium, crying and celebrating in equal measures. You were both very different people compared to the two stuttering 20 year olds loitering in Lewis Hamilton’s mansion, searching for the right words to say.

“I’m so unbelievably in love with you, Charles.” You whispered in Charles’ ear as he popped open the champagne, laughing hysterically when gravity brought the cork back down to earth and landed in your lap.

You couldn’t stop staring at the diamond that now sat proudly on your left ring finger, endlessly pinching yourself that it was real. He’d caught you by surprise on your birthday, no less. Out on the Mediterranean Sea, looking back at the place that you now called home. Charles had anchored down the boat and dropped to one knee before you could even comprehend what was happening. Your hair blowing around in the wind with Monte Carlo twinkling in the background as the only a light source. You bobbed up and down in the bay, not knowing if you were seasick or lovesick - or both. Either way, you were gripping onto Charles for dear life as everything you'd ever wished for came true right in front of your eyes.

He carefully placed the ring on your finger once you whispered a soft ‘yes’ into the ether, eyes teary and smiles the size of the moon on your windswept faces. You couldn’t believe that the man of your dreams had asked you to marry him. You were on top of the world but most of all, you felt like the princess Charles had always claimed you to be.

“And I’m in love with you, Madame Leclerc.”

let me know what you think!

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc one shot #monzamash #mmrequested #charles leclerc smut #monzamashmasterlist #formula 1 one shot

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moonlight404-translates · 3 months

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A3! Mikage Hisoka | SR - SUNNY WINTER | Translation

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Disclaimer: Neither English nor Japanese is my native language, but I did my best with the translation. If you find any mistakes, feel free to tell me. By the way, Director’s name will be Izumi.

Winter Troupe Fan Service Study ~Hisoka Mikage / 1

Tasuku: Aah, Tsumugi. Did you already finish tidying up the storage room? Tsumugi: Mhm, I finished it. Guy: You were tidying it up? Tsumugi: The manager asked me and the other troupe leaders to tidy up and sweep the storage room. Azuma: So that’s the reason. I’m sure you did a great job. Tsumugi: Thank you. Tsumugi: Ah, right. In the storage room is the uchiwa that the autumn troupe made for their fan service study. Hisoka: …Uchiwa? Izumi: Oh, so there’s where it is! Tsumugi: Banri-kun said they put it in the storage room because we could use it if we have another live concert. Tasuku: The storage room will get cluttered if you keep all kinds of things there. Homare: But there’s the possibility of finding another use for it, don’t you think? Hisoka: I’ve seen Omi using an uchiwa to fan the rice. Azuma: He uses it when making vinegared rice, right? Tasuku: That’s not how you would use a fan service uchiwa. Tsumugi: So I was asked if the winter troupe would do a fan service study… should we do it? Tasuku: Fan service study…? I helped Citron with his back then. Guy: Since the other troupes are doing it, we could also do it. Izumi: I agree. There’s no telling when we will have another live concert. Tsumugi: Speaking of which, the other troupes seemed to search for how to make good of their individual characteristics in their fan service. Azuma: Then, should we do the same and search for a fan service that could make good use of our individual characteristics? Homare: Indeed, fan service is truly important, after all. Then let’s try it out promptly! Homare: Come on, Hisoka-kun. Think up as well! Hisoka: …Think up what? Homare: Fan service. Didn’t you hear our conversation? Hisoka: Fan service… Hisoka: What could be like that? Azuma: A wink and pointing to the fans are the most common, aren’t they? Tsumugi: Those things might make fans happy. Hisoka: … Guy: Something came to your mind? Hisoka: …Nothing. Tasuku: Think about it some more. Tsumugi: But Hisoka-kun might still make them happy even if it isn’t some direct fanservice like a wink or pointing at them. Hisoka: What do you mean? Tsumugi: I thought there might be fans who would appreciate you even if they just saw you zoned out… Azuma: In that case, purposely refusing the fan service requests could work too, don’t you think? Azuma: I’ve heard that type of fan service has been in vogue recently. Homare: I see… so Hisoka-kun’s selfish personality can be fan service, too! Hisoka: …I don’t want to hear that from Arisu.

Winter Troupe Fan Service Study ~Hisoka Mikage / 2

Tsumugi: Very well. Now that we defined that, we can work on Hisoka’s fan service. Azuma: Then, why don’t we make preparations for it? Tasuku: What do you mean by preparations? Azuma: Fufu, you’ll see. Hisoka: Hm?

Taichi: And I finished the uchiwa~! Azuma: Thank you, doggie. Tsumugi: By preparations… You meant making uchiwas, didn’t you? Guy: They are of high quality. Taichi: Since I had many chances to make uchiwas lately, I feel like my skills have been improving! Taichi: But for these, Azuma-san gave me a hand. Azuma: It was fun making them together. Azuma: Now the winter troupe will hold the uchiwas made by doggie, and Hisoka will reject all the fan service requests. Hisoka: How troublesome… Tasuku: You only have to reject them. Homare: Hisoka-kun, this is a genuine study! Guy: Yukishiro and Nanao made preparations for this. Would you give it a try? Tsumugi: Please, Hisoka-kun. Hisoka: …Okay. Azuma: Then, choose the uchiwa you like the most, everyone. Guy: Understood. Tasuku: We hold them…? Azuma: It’s for the fan service study. Let’s give our support to Hisoka. Tsumugi: Then, I will go first. Tsumugi: “Give us a wink.” Hisoka: …I don’t wanna. Taichi: Woah! I don’t know why, but that went straight to my heart! Guy: “Send a kiss.” Hisoka: …I won’t. Taichi: Ooh! He’s making an x with his hands for it. That’s so cute~. Tsumugi: Yes, his gestures are on point. Azuma: This might be very lovable for the fans. Tasuku: …I’m next? Tasuku: “Point at me.” Hisoka: No. Homare: Hm? That was a quick answer compared to the other two. Tasuku: Hey. Hisoka: …From time to time. Azuma: Fufu. Then, how about this one? Azuma: “Do you want a futon?” Hisoka: I… Taichi: You can do it, Hisoka-san! Hisoka: I… don’t… want it. Guy: He could endure it. Homare: Very good, Hisoka-kun! Homare: Then… for the last one. What would you do with this one? Homare: “Do you want marshmallows?” Hisoka: Yes, please. Taichi: Hisoka-san! Tasuku: Default answer, huh? Tsumugi: He was so close… Azuma: But Hisoka had a great run, don’t you think? Hisoka: …Having self-restraint with things I like is nothing like me. Hisoka: And with that say, Arisu, give me a marshmallow. Homare: You really never change… Guy: That’s how Mikage is.

#a3! translation #hisoka mikage #a3!#a3! hisoka #a3! backstage story

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sweetheartturtle2007 · 2 years

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Moments with your turtle brothers🐢💝

Summary: a prank that went a little wrong

Fanfic type: funny I guess ? 😅

Fandom: ROTTMNT

Type of reader: reader is 4 year old turtle

It was a normal day at the lair

You were watching tv at the sofa, watching cartoons without making any trouble

You were eating your favorite candy/snack when you suddenly finish it without noticing

When you did you got a bit angry you were still hungry

You got up and decided to try and find something more to eat

You search around the lair but couldn't find anything

You then heard something

"I'm going to leave my cheese here on the table, nobody touch it I'll be right back"

You hear leo yell from the kitchen

You went inside the kitchen and saw the cheese on the table

You remembered all the times Leo eat your candy without permission, so you decided to take revenge on him

You took the cheese from the table and went back to the sofa

You give it a big bite, it was kinda sour but you didn't care

You continued eating when suddenly your throat started burning

The pain was so horrible that you fell to the floor from the sofa

Raph entered the room just in time and saw you on the floor, he immediately started panicking, he through you collapsed

Donnie and mickey were there two, Donnie saw you were still alive so he pick you up and put you on his lap

You were crying from the pain, you tried to explain what you were feeling but you couldn't talk

Your three brothers were like : "excuse me wtf"

You were scared cause you through you were never going to talk again.

Mikey saw some foam coming out of your mouth so he gave you some water to drink

After some minutes you were finally able to talk again.

The guys noticed the "cheese" on the floor, raph took it and saw it was a soap.

"y/n ¿¡why did you eat this soap!?"

One thing that no one noticed is that Leo was on the background sawing everything so he enter the scene

"actually I think I know how did this happen"

So Leo started to explain

"everything was supposed to be a funny prank, but the one that was supposed to fall on it, was raph and not my lil baby sis"

"and how did you make it smell like cheese?"

"i just scratched cheese on it so it smelled like that, but hey! It was still funny"

God, raph was furious! You could've almost died.

"YOU'D BETTER START RUNNING, BECAUSE NOW I'M GOING TO DRAG YOU FOR BEING A PENDEJO"

Raph chased leo around the lair for a straight hour.

Leo yelled at you for help but you ignored him went back to watch tv.

Ever since, leo make sure you weren't around when making a prank, he had to buy you candy for the rest of the month after the prank.

The story I used for this little short was created by a Spanish channel named "Abro hilo" the original story is called "Jabón XD" and it's originally in Spanish language, i just translate it and added the TMNT characters along the reader. All credits of the story goes to the channel "Abro hilo" ( if you know Spanish, this is a funny and pretty good chanel to watch, it's full of funny stories)

#requests #tmnt imagine #tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt fandom #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #tmnt leo 2012 #tmnt x reader #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader

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korokeea · 1 month

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♬ ♪ 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬! ♪ ♬

by me >:)

15 of them, enjoy!

_____________________________

1, she can’t swim. No agrument. She lived in a state home, went to Arizona (in the MIDDLE OF A DESERT), and definitely did not go swimming while with Cam. So I highly doubt she can properly swim? Maybe the basics but not the full on swimming against rough waves.

2, can’t kiss. I wrote this in an ask because I had been re-reading Unbound Unfinished Symphony and she literally had no interest in any guy so her first kiss was probably with Connor and even that wasn’t even a kiss, it was like a peck. So she most likely learned by herself or by Connor.

3, she definitely still moves her fingers in her sleep like how she did in the state home from hours of playing piano. And to the people who think she forgot how to play, she’s been playing since she was little so I again doubt it. And because it played such a huge role in her growing up, she holds onto it as a way of coping because she genuinely likes it + muscle memory.

4, she’s constantly paranoid. She probably searches an entire room to make sure it’s safe before sleeping. Anything Connor does freaks her the hell out thinking he’ll injury himself. Also, she’s probably hella protective of Connor. Going somewhere? Cool, she’s coming with you.

5, she keeps habits. I feel like once she gets something, she doesn’t drop it or give it up. And with her slight stubborn personality, I feel like the suits her. Of course they wouldn’t be any bad habits, but they’d be simple things that she probably picked up while staying at the state home or Graveyard.

6, HIGHLY DOUBT she smokes or drinks. Maybe once in a while with Connor but she’s not the type to pick on bad habits such as things that lead to addictions. I feel like she takes care of herself, both mentally and physically and wouldn’t put herself in a bad place.

!!!!!!!NSFW!!!!!!!

7, she sucks at sex. The most she’ll do is lie there and look pretty while Connor does the work. JK KINDA!! I feel like she wouldn’t be a pro, but she also wouldn’t be the worst. I feel like should stop once in a while and then continue after she takes breather or something. And then after she acts all exhausted and worn out so Connor will cuddle and kiss her (as she should!!) Anything involving doing something to Connor she’s the best but to herself she sucks.

(all done, continue sfw)

8, her fashion sense is far too good. I feel like she wouldn’t wear too much exposing clothing, such as deep cut tank tops or crop tops. She’s the type to wear an old baggy shirt she found buried deep into a Goodwill that someone lost in the 90s and pair it with jeans or sweatpants. You wouldn’t catch her dead in shorts. Also, she’s most definitely a converse gal, rocking those things until they wither off.

9, bilingual queen!! First of all, even though we never see her speaking another language, she’s incredibly experienced in music which involves reading notes which helps the brain pick up on translating symbols, which can also improve language. Connecting into Unconfirmed, while in the Mediterranean, I bet she speaks Greek and had to teach Connor.

10, HER ASS IS NOT HAVING 7 KIDS. She’ll have one at most and cherish that thing like her mother wouldn’t do to her. It almost definitely be a girl and some stupid name like Sarah or something and would look EXACTLY LIKE CONNOR. Like the living, breathing female version of Connor. When the baby was born it was obvious who she belonged to.

11, kinda a Connor headcannon but she would get called the dumbest pet names by him. Like the ones you would call your friend. Only when he’s being serious will you actually call her something like babe, honey, or something. Also, for some reason I feel like jokingly he would call her Ri-Ri. Just to make her stare at him and complete confusion. Other than that I feel like they wouldn’t use too much pet names, unless they’re joking with each other. They would mostly just use their actual names.

12, she definitely sings in the shower. Heard sick song playing on the radio? Cool! Now it’s stuck in her head all day and it’s only when she goes into the shower can she sing her heart out (funny).

13, she definitely steals some of Connor clothes. Just for fun so when she walks by in his hoodie it makes him rethink whether it’s his or hers after a couple of minutes of talking, he suddenly forgets that it’s completely his and thinks that it’s hers.

14, I feel like she had no interest in finding out who her father or mother was. Because of her deep connection with Connor, I felt like she had no desire to learn about her parents whatsoever, even when Cam mentioned that he could find them. I think it was that moment that she realized that Connor was the only person that she really cared for and loved by him being by her side.

15, while at the Graveyard they probably didn’t even officially say they were dating to each other. Like they didn’t sit down and have a conversation about why they should date they just kind of started doing it.

_________________________________

and that’s it! hope u guys enjoyed it. <3

#risa ward #unwind #connor lassiter #unwind dystology #unwind fic

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drifting-pieces-blog-blog · 2 years

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Be Careful what Hobby you Choose

Summary: Hobbies are important. Marc needs one. He's driving the other two crazy. Maybe they should have thought twice...

Warning: None

Word Count: 1492

Word Prompt: Cupcake

It was decided early on that they needed their own hobbies.

It was an easy way for them to each feel like their own person. Something Steven had anxiously suggested and upheld pretty firmly. No matter how much co-con they did, Steven always made sure everyone got their own time to be themselves.

When not working, Steven spent his time translating hieroglyphics, learning languages, solving puzzles, or just reading.

When not working the cab, Jake discovered he liked to read things like popular car mechanics. Steven had gotten it for him on a whim and now Jake would spend hours at the magazine racks picking out issues to read. It was pretty common for Jake to blast his music while flipping through a hot rod magazine. He also had started to take up the guitar, but refused to play if the other two were around.

Marc had yet to find a hobby.

He had spent two weeks doing absolutely nothing but lay on the bed and stare at the ceiling.

When Steven pointed out that this was not a hobby, Marc had started to drive them crazy.

“What are you reading?” “Is that French?” “What glyph is that? They sure use that one a lot.” Steven was ready to reconsider laying in bed as a new hobby.

When Marc started to annoy Jake, “What year is that car?” “We should paint flames on your car.” “How many screws do you think are actually in a regular car?”, they staged an intervention.

“You need a hobby.” Steven offered an apologetic smile.

“If you don’t find something that isn’t bothering us I’m going to lose it.” Jake crossed his arms.

“I guess I could take up boxing again…” Marc sighed. “Might leave you guys with bruises though.”

Steven made a face. “Eh… I mean… If you really want to…”

Marc shook his head. “No. I don’t like the idea of me getting punched in the face and one of you having to tag in. Especially you, Jake.”

“I can hold my own.” Jake raised an eyebrow.

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Marc muttered. “You don’t exactly fight by the rules.”

Jake shrugged dismissively. “We don’t lose. That’s all I care about.”

“I’ll find a hobby.” Marc sighed and flopped back on the bed.

Marc tried the traditional hobbies first. He painted a little until he realized he lacked any artistic ability and the paint ended up in the trash. He found Jake’s guitar and picked out a song he had learned in high school. He was alright at it, but it failed to stir any passion. This was fine by Jake, who grew anxious any time Marc touched his guitar, claiming Marc was messing with the tuning too much.

He went to a bookstore and stared at the books for all of ten minutes before Steven triggered out and happily started to dig through the discount rack.

He bought a model kit from a hobby store and got halfway through one before he realized he hadn’t slept in two days and was more frustrated than happy. Steven ended up finishing it for him.

One day Marc went out to the grocery store in search of something sweet and a box cake had caught his attention.

He was a terrible cook. He had no grasp on how to use spices, and often just put cheese on things and called it a day. With that in mind, he had never thought to try any other type of food preparation.

“Looks easy enough…” He stared at the instructions on the back. A little math and a few ingredients. He gathered what he needed and headed home.

Following instructions was easy. It was in his nature. Marc wished everything came with such clear instructions. There was no line about “spice to taste” or questions about how he felt about the situation. It was so clear cut. Do these things in this order and don’t muck about.

“Steven, where’s the cake pan?” Marc dug through the cupboards.

“I don’t have one.” Steven frowned at the mess. “You’re lucky I have measuring cups.”

Marc sighed heavily as he found a muffin tin stashed in the back. Fine. He could make them into little cupcakes.

Once the cakes had cooked and cooled, he applied the frosting and sprinkles.

They were alright. Very basic vanilla. Looked alright too. They could be better. He stared at them and felt something almost seem to shift.

He went back to the store.

Steven had been out of it for the whole day. He had been staying up late working on a new series of books and forcing himself to give Marc time to find something to do.

He felt a twinge from the body that usually meant it was far past time to practice a little self care.

“Hey Marc.” Steven made himself known. He never liked to just take over unless he felt it was needed. “How’s it going out here?”

“Steven!” Marc stood up as he set a tray down on the counter. “Uh… Don’t be mad. I may have gotten a little carried away.”

“Carried away? With what?” Steven took front and was first met with a very strong smell that made him think of a bakery.

When his eyes focused on the world around him he was met by a colorful barrage of cupcakes. Vanilla, chocolate, swirls, confetti, strawberry, red velvet, what appeared to be some sort of cinnamon swirl… Then the frostings on top were a flavorful mixture of colors and stiles. They covered the counter, the stove top, the side table, and stacked high on cooling racks carefully balanced on top of one another to give more surface space. There were sprinkles of all shapes and sizes. In the corner sat a new mixing stand, baking pans of different sizes and shapes, mixing bowls, food dyes, and bags of flour.

“Marc….” Steven gaped. “Wh… I… Cupcakes?” He looked down. He was wearing an apron covered in flour.

“The batch on the right by the fridge are vegan. It was harder to get the binding agent to cooperate but once I figured that out it was game on.” Marc grinned like a man that had defeated a foe in battle. “There are vegan black bean brownies in the oven. First batch went to hell but this one is turning out great! It’s all about the chocolate ratio. I was debating on trying pies next. Apples are on sale and-”

“What are we going to do with all these? I don’t exactly workout, Marc. I’m not sure my waistline can handle this.” He cautiously picked up one of the vegan ones and took a bite. He groaned. It was amazing. Light and moist, wonderful flavor, perfect frosting that wasn’t too heavy…. No, his waistline was absolutely not going to handle this.

“Steven,” Marc gave him a look. “We share a body. I workout. Pretty sure Jake works out a little too. I think he secretly dances or something cause I swear my legs hurt every Saturday morning when I wake up. Maybe don’t eat all of them at once, but you can indulge a little.”

“Uh huh.” Steven finished the first one then eyed the oven, excited to try the brownies. “Maybe wait on the pies until we figure out what to do with the rest of these.”

“Right.” Marc flushed. He hoped Steven didn’t look in the cupboard. There were more in there crammed into special cupcake tupperwares. He might have gone a little overboard. “Uh… Hey Jake? Don’t you know that lady down at the diner?”

–

Jake walked into the diner with a large box. “Hey Gena!”

“Hey handsome.” She looked up from the griddle with a grin. “What’s that? Another delivery?”

Jake set the box down on the counter. “Yeah. Idiota made about a dozen pies this time.”

She watched Jake unpack the pies and start to load them into the pie display. They were gorgeous and looked professionally done. “I feel like I should be paying you. Those cupcakes last week didn’t last the day.”

Jake groaned and sat down. “No. I should be paying you. If Steven tries to eat one more pie I’m going to make him start doing the morning run.”

Gena smirked and cleared the griddle, prepping Jake’s usual order. “Well tell him I appreciate it all the same. What’s next? Cakes?”

Jake slouched down on the counter. “Pastry. I’m going to buy him a pack of baseball cards. Maybe I can get him interested in something else. I woke up last night and found him yelling at some croissants.”

“Ah, you leave him alone. Croissants are hard to do. Let him get it out of his system. You’re just antsy ‘cause you haven’t been out dancing in ages.” She winked playfully. “Your salsa es fuego.”

“Si claro.” He looked up at her and sighed. “As long as it isn’t cupcakes for a while.”

#Moon Knight fic #Marc Spector #Steven Grant #Jake Lockley #Gena #MoonKnightober2022 #MKtober2022 #cupcake #who needs sleep when I'm doing a fic a day #woooo #you guys are trying to kill me #I fricken love all the content though #Jake's salsa is very fuego #Steven does not understand the shared body workout #Jake did the tango with Frenchie once #it lives in my brain rent free now and it makes me very happy

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laurasimonsdaughter · 2 years

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A wild (mother) goose chase for a lost fairy tale

In august 2020 Forbes published an article about how writer and illustrator Pete Jordi Wood had uncovered a “charming gay fairytale” that “has been lost for 200 years”. In particular a story where a sailor wins the hand in marriage of a handsome prince. Wood is quoted as calling it an “unbelievably and fabulously gay” plot, and: “an ancient tale with a positive portrayal, of a guy who can be read as gay or asexual, but certainly queer”.

Obviously I was wild to read it, but sadly Wood’s adaptation of the fairy tale had been published as a limited edition children’s book and virtual exhibition that I could not access. Even more disheartening, the folklore sources were not named on his website, and his research was only available in a limited edition essay collection and zine that I would have to buy.

To make matters worse, the Forbes article said that Wood had translated variations of the story from Danish, German and Frisian. That was absolutely too close to home for me not to go looking for it! Except I had very little to go on, because again, Forbes didn’t give sources.

The article said only this:

Wood called the story “The Dog And The Sailor”

The protagonist is an adventurous sailor with an overprotective mother who defeats a beautiful evil witch and wins the hand in marriage of a handsome prince.

Wood found it in the Stith Thompson’s six-volume Motif-Index of Folk-Literature under a tale type called “The Dog and the Sea” which existed in multiple languages (Danish, German, Frisian and others), but not in English.

It was first written down in the 1800’s.

I could find only one mention online with more information, on the Simmons University website:

“Originally a Danish folktale documented by the folklorists Nikolaj Christensen and Jens Kamp, this story has been translated into English for the first time by Pete Jordi Wood.”

The consequence of all this is that I have been hunting for this fairy tale for a very long time and with the help of two amazing Danish followers and a lot of frantic internet searches, I’m finally convinced that I have! So, if you want to follow me into my obsession, you can find it all under the readmore.

Of course the first thing I did was try to find this tale type “The Dog and the Sea” in the Stith Thompson Motif-Index, but it was a dead end. I couldn’t find any fairy tale called “The Dog and the Sea” or “The Dog and the Sailor” anywhere. What I was able to find was a podcast called “There’s a Story for That” that gave a recap and review of Wood’s “The Dog and the Sailor”. So now at least I knew the full outline of the story:

A beautiful, evil witch curses a faraway tropical kingdom, charming everyone into submission, transforming them into animals and sinking the kingdom to the bottom of the ocean.

An English boy called Ruan wants to become a sailor and his protective mother eventually lets him go after he fails at being a tailor.

She gives him her life savings, a medical balm and a dagger.

Ruan joins a sailing crew, shipwrecks in a storm and washes up on the shores of France.

When his money runs out he gets so desperate that he contemplates walking into the sea, but at that moment a curly haired dog emerges from the waves and offers to help him. He fills Ruan’s purse with money and instructs him to pay double for everything he buys.

When he has spent all the money Ruan returns to the dog, gets a thousand gold pieces and is instructed to get a ship and a crew.

They sail off, but the sea witch sends a storm dragon to sink them. The dog defeats the dragon while the crew hides below deck.

They find the dog grievously wounded, but Ruan heals him with his mother’s balm.

The dog tells Ruan to go out in a row boat and jump into the sea, much to the terror of the crew.

Ruan sinks to the sunken kingdom unharmed and the dog leads Ruan to the town, where a beautiful woman (the witch) comes to meet him.

She promises him half of her kingdom if he’ll be her spouse. Ruan refuses and stabs her to death with the dagger. She explodes into dust, leaving behind only a belt with silver keys.

Ruan enters the castle and the dog is already inside to lead him to the dungeon, where they find a caged lion.

The dog instructs Ruan to cut off his head and tail and swap their places. This turns the lion into an old man, the king.

The king praises Ruan for being the only person who managed to resist the witch. All the animals in the castle turn human, including the dog, who is the king’s son.

The king suggests Ruan and his son rule the kingdom together. Ruan wants to accept, but feels he has to return to his mother. So the king gives him a ship full of gold instead. By then the kingdom has risen to the surface again.

Ruan sails back to his mother, who praises him, but tells him to go back to marry his prince.

He returns and marries the handsome prince.

The next step was looking at the mentioned authors, I was lucky enough to come across a book by Stephen Badman, who had translated a large selection of the fairy tales Jens Kamp published in 1879 and 1891 and published them in 2016 under the title “Folk and Fairy Tales from Denmark – Stories collected by Jens Kamp”. I couldn’t be sure that the right story was in there, but it was! The book included a story called David Cotterson (David Husmandssøn), which was clearly Wood’s source, but did have notable differences:

The witch and the kingdom are never mentioned in the beginning.

The hero is called David, his nationality is not given, he has two parents and no parting gifts are mentioned.

He shipwrecks and washes up on the coast of England.

The helpful dog is described as “large, black and shaggy”.

The dog gives David first five hundred ducats, then a thousand ducats, and the third time two thousand ducats and the assignment to have a ship built.

Again the crew hides from a storm and the dog gets injured, but the dog gives David a flask of healing oil to cure him with. It is never said that the witch causes the storm.

The dog warns David explicitly that he will meet a beautiful woman near a golden castle, who would attempt to seduce him, but that if he gives her as much as a kiss all will be lost.

He gives David a sword an instructs him to cut her down, take her keys, and go to the castle where he will be waiting for him.

As soon as he kills the woman he hears his crew shout, because suddenly the land has risen to the surface again.

Only now it is revealed that the woman was an evil witch who had sent the land to the bottom of the sea.

Once transformed back into humans, the dog and lion explain that the evil witch had been the king’s second wife.

The king offers David half the kingdom as a reward, but David wants to go home, so they fill his ship with treasure instead.

David says goodbye to the prince and the king, sails home to England, sells his ship, shares the riches with his crew, returns to his overjoyed parents and settles down with them to live a long, happy life.

I personally really enjoy this folktale. It’s fun and quite unusual. I’ve posted a more complete summary here for extra context. Also, Badman’s translations are very pleasant to read, I really recommend buying this book. Now I’ve read his source, I’m inclined to agree with one part of Wood’s claims, that you could read it as asexual. It’s pretty rare to find a fairy tale like this that doesn’t end in a wedding. But the fact that this Danish tale doesn’t end in a marriage, unlike Wood’s adaptation, does rather dampen the “lost gay fairy tale” claim.

But there are other versions of this story! I thought it might possible that one of the stories might have ended with “rule side by side with my son”, which really would be very easy to read as a “gay marriage without calling it a marriage”. So, I wanted to see if Nikolaj Christensen had also collected a variant. Sadly, Christensen’s work is even more obscure than Kamp’s outside Scandinavia. Again, Stephen Badman has translated some of them, but I had no idea what the folktale would be called and I couldn’t exactly justify buying several books just in the hope that it would be in there.

As far as I could tell, there had been only one complete collection of Christensen’s work: Folkeeventyr fra Kær herred (Folk tales from Kær Herred), by Nikolaj Christensen, published by Laurits Bødker with Akademisk forlag; København (1963-67). The index is available online and it seemed to me that “Matrosen og kongen” (The sailor and the king) or “Et sømandsæventyr” (A sailor tale) had definite potential to be the story I was looking for.

So, I decided to ask my Tumblr dash for Danish help. And let me tell you, the Danes delivered. @violetdesolation messaged me that they had found the book in their university library and kindly offered to send me some scans. They found both “Matrosen og kongen” and “Et sømandsæventyr” for me, but noticed that the book they got didn’t include all the folktales in the index I found. We both looked for a dog that turned into a prince, but found nothing.

But by then a second helpful Dane had gotten their hands on the book and this time it was the complete version! They kindly offered to skim the whole thing for me and just to be sure I gave a whole list of story elements to look out for. And that is how we uncovered that “Et sømandsæventyr” (A sailor tale) was actually the story I was looking for! Only it was just different enough from “David Husmandssøn” that I hadn’t noticed! In this version the protagonist was Dutch instead of English and in the end it never even clearly says that the dog turns into a prince! But it was definitely a variant of the same story. It has many similarities with Kemp’s version, but a few key differences:

The protagonist is called Johan, only his father is mentioned, and they are said to be Dutch.

He shipwrecks and washes up in France, not England.

Johan actually tries to drown himself.

The talking dog is specifically said to be a poodle.

There are a lot of details missing, like the description of the storm that injures the dog or the specific method to transform the lion back into a human.

The witch is described merely as “beautiful” and while she does suggest marriage to Johan it is never said that no one else could resist her or that many have tried.

While the dog does say he is a transformed prince, the story never states that he becomes human again (hence why Violetdesolation and I didn’t find the story on first glance).

This king does not speak and this witch is not revealed to be his second wife.

As a reward Johan may choose between becoming a minister in the saved kingdom’s government or to leave with as much gold as he can carry, he chooses the gold and goes home, but his father is not mentioned again.

If you want to read the full story, you can! You can find the scans of the Danish text that the kind @violetdesolation provided here, and a full English translation can be found here, courtesy of the second Danish folklore sleuth, who preferred to stay anonymous. I also want to give a big shout-out to @ymfingsteadilyon who also offered to get the book from their library.

So now I had confirmation that this was indeed a Danish fairy tale first recorded in the 1800’s, that, while sadly lacking a gay wedding, did definitely invite being read through a queer lens. However, the article had claimed there was also a German and a Frisian version. Which probably meant there was also a Dutch version and I was determined to find it (and see if it ended in marriage).

It was at this point that I finally finally found the tale type with both “dog” and “sea” in it. The correct name wasn’t “The Dog and the Sea”, it was “The Dog in the Sea”, ATU type 540. To my intense frustration the most complete online ATU index had no examples in that category whatsoever, but at least I knew it existed.

And now I knew the correct name for the tale type, I found this. A German fairy tale encyclopedia from 1990 (the online version was behind a paywall, but I managed to find the book: Enzyklopädie des Märchens, Walter de Gruyter & Co, 1988/1990, ISBN 978-3-11-011763-9) that had a whole entry on this tale type including sources. My German was just good enough to understand these things:

This really was the correct tale type for both Christensen’s and Kamp’s stories and a summary was indeed given in Aarne and Thomson’s folklore classifications.

They presumed that Christensen’s version from 1855 was the oldest.

There were also Swedish and Finnish versions, but these deviated rather a lot from the Danish ones.

There was possibly also a Russian version that might fit this type.

There was also a Dutch version from a publication from 1900/1901.

So, what was this Dutch version they wrote of? The source given was “Huizenga-Onnekes, E. J.: Groninger volksvertellingen 1. Groningen 21958, 60-64; Vk. Tijdschrift voor nederlandsche folklore 13 (1900/1901) 200-202;”, but luckily I didn’t need to go looking for it. Because with the correct tale type I could find it in the Dutch folktale database.

And while it is correct that this story was first published in Dutch the 1900’s, the written source it was based on is from 1804. Which makes the Dutch version the oldest traceable source of this piece of oral folklore! Possibly explaining why Christensen’s version has a Dutch protagonist and why Kamp’s version is the most elaborate, being the most recent one. Because the Dutch version is far shorter and far less interesting:

The protagonist is a skipper who wrecks his ship and washes ashore in great misery.

A black dog comes up to him and offers help, which the skipper accepts despite fearing the dog is the devil.

When the ship is built the dog stays with the skipper so he can pay for everything, including a crew and provisions.

As they sail the dog keeps warning when there is to be a storm. First one that lasts half a day, then three days, then a week.

At last they reach a shore (not underwater) with a golden castle and the dog says it is his father’s castle.

The dog instructs the skipper to spend three nights in the castle and to be silent no matter how bad it gets.

The castle turns out to be haunted and the skipper is horribly tormented, but after the three nights the dog takes the skipper to a room with a large sword and instructs him to behead him.

Doing so turns the dog into a human, who explains that his father had cursed him to become a spectre of a dog.

He rewards the skipper with enough money to last him a lifetime and the skipper leaves with his riches.

This version was written down by 11 year-old Gerrit Arend Arends, who kept a journal around 1804 in which he recorded the stories that seamstress Trijntje “Soldaats” Wijbrands told him. The journal was discovered by his great-great-granddaughter E.J.Huizenga-Onnekes, who eventually published all 17 folktales in: Groninger Volksvertellingen I: Het Boek van Trijntje Soldaats (1928).

The story about the sailor and the enchanted dog is the 15th story in the collection and while it has no name there, I have seen later versions of it called “De dankbare hond” (The grateful dog) and “De hond die geen hond was” (The dog that wasn’t a dog).

So there we are! With a lot of kind help from unexpected places, my honour as a Dutch hobby folklorist is restored. Sadly we were not rewarded with a canon gay wedding from 19th century folklore, but a very good story nonetheless, that is indeed very inviting to read through a queer lens, and a rather triumphant end to a what started as a very wild goose chase.

EDIT: Since writing this, this tale type was added to Wikipedia, with additional interesting references! I wish I had looked for it there again between the beginning and the end of my search, because this took me so long it was published in between.

#the dog and the sailor #another one for laure goes off the deep end #and down the rabbit hole #danish folklore #danish fairy tale #dutch folklore #thanks to everyone who helped!#and the friends who had to hear me yell about this :P #and my sister for the editing of this monster post <3

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cosmik-homo · 10 months

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hi!! what are protocal droids? 👀 (are they star wars? theres the little guys arent there. the gold one<3 and the one that makes noises?) (<- woefull lack of knowledge about star wars lol)

YES protocol droids are from star wars! that is in fact what the gold guy (c-3po. my babygirl) is.

So in star wars sapient robots are called Droids, and the different types are often referred to by their jobs; Battle droids are the silly canon fodder who say roger roger, and Artoo (R2-D2, lil blue guy in the picutre, and YES <3 he does make noises good job <3) is an Astromech droid, meaning, well, he does mechanical jobs in space. he fixes spacecrafts, sometimes from the outside while they fly, and has various gadgets and technological skills.

The yellow one, C-3PO, or threepio for friends, is the main protocol droid we see in the series, though not the only one. Luckily, he is exactly the type of mess of a person that his resume is his catchphrase: "C-3PO, human-cyborg relations. programmed in over six million forms of communication". He also described himself, in the first movie, as "[...] not much more than an interpreter, and not very good at telling stories."

So theyre linguistic AI. Machine translators in a friendly humanoid box. Threepio also sometimes interperts Artoo's mechanical beeping speech for the other characters, so we have to assume that's what Human-cyborg relations is about, even though cyborgs and droids are not the same as all- early installment weirdness is the best assumption because. the "human cyborg relations" phrase or concept has never been menaingfully brought up in star wars for my knowledge. searching it on wookiepedia mostly leads to info about a few protocol droid models and the many times threepio has said it.

But so often in the throes of hyperfixation have i found myself looking at the ceiling going ok i mean i understand but. what IS a protocol droid truly, when u look at it?

wookiepedia expands barely:

A protocol droid was a droid whose job was to aid sentients with their etiquette and relations with each other in the galaxy. They often dealt with event planning, etiquette, translation, and problem solving.

Often threepio is written as more of a butler than anything to do with linguistics. (half the time its not even proper butlering its just written as a servant by a writer who thinks they know what being a butler means but- i digress). He himself is quick to offer himself into those jobs, as well as more mechanical labour-

but then again he also becomes a spymaster at some point (my so beloved poe dameron comics. great comics and great space for droid rights introspection in the new star wars era).

So they're not just translators and interpeters, not just containers of cultural and ritualistic etiquette knowledge, they're, secretary machines. they're robots designed to help humans by doing the most tedious parts of thinking-and-learning for people- being nervous about perfect manners 200% of the time to prevent and prepare u for youur faux-pas, and working out the little details and paperwork and errandrunnig so you can get your thing going.

They're tools designed to let you say what you need without hassle, which is what makes the fact that in a way, Threepio is the narrator of star wars, so fucking awesome and ogod and interesting. they shouldnt have their own thing to say, but look at him go. he'll try to convince you he doesn't but thats precisely why you need to look at him go.

No wonder he is practically the main chrarter of the first 25 minutes of the first movie- not only being a lowly robot secretary make him a good everyman, this is a machine designed to kind of get across where you are and what's happening, lol.

Just. When I started being insane tm about this language generating software ("AI", salami, whatever u wanna call a neural network doing that stuff) was not even close to as big a thing as it is today. so that has definitely changed some stuff. but thats the thing- threepio is not using likelihood based processing he is An Actual Knowledge man. he loves boring u with facts. So he actually knows things, and- he's such an old machine. Anakin built him as a child, that was from old parts. yet he keeps kind of, growing as a character with his own personality (droidds developing unique thoughts and personalities by gaining experience is called Metaprogramming in star wars fiction), he also adapts to culture. he's always a wimp but hes much more subserviant when owned by fasicist imperials than he was when working with his good friend and master's secret wife padme, and he's a bit more confident in the sequels, in his own pathetic way.

So he reflects culture. he participates in society despite being designed to be a passive tool of it, and despite standing on the outsides of it due to. being treated as such, as A Droid, A Thing, or at best, even amongst friends, an annyoing old queen.

I simply think if the writers of star wars were as fascinated as I am by the technological implications of naming robot diplomats after the real life technological concept of protocols and exploring what does it mean to do thoughts and works and what is The Grave Omportance And Role Paper Work Can Play In This Space Opera Adventure, things would be great. because i love space bearucracy forever and the robots that do it re cool especially the homosexual mentally ill ones

#the droids being the narrators is a famous george lucas thing. the threepio is the Early Early protag is A Me Thing #thank you for wwalking straight into my infodump <3 you do NOT have to read it all #i just rally wanted an ecuse to o this

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armyhome · 2 years

Text

The Magical You

→ pair: Lee Soohyuk x reader (female);

→ genre: magical love.

→ word count: 1.3K;

→ warnings: if it was hard to write this being single, imagine reading it;

→ requested by: @yoshixasahi I hope you like.

The magic of capturing a moment that will never happen the same way again always blew me away, mom Eloise never got this "It'll just the same next year, it's the same way every year around this time" she tells me about the cherry blossom at the beginning of spring, although my photos prove that she was wrong, but I'll not start an argumentation, not this time. I also don't understand her books about periods of time we weren't even alive, but I understand her passion so I respect that.

My passion takes me to travel trying to capture magical moments all over the globe. Different from mom Eloise, mom Penelope was always worried about me settling down "You should open a studio, find someone to share your goals with, grow roots" I smile at her and recite an old poem she used to read me when I was a kid "What is the joy on committee when I have the whole world to meet" She rolls her eyes and mom Eloise put her arm around mom Penelope's shoulders, we were in front a restaurant, that was a magical moment.

"I told you, that bad poetry would make our daughter crazy" I picked the camera up in my hands.

"You both stay still…." I was trying to caliber the camera's ISO, perfectly. "Again bae? We're tired of taking photos…." So I freeze them for the eternity of a picture, complaining about me when I put the camera down I saw him, looking at me, right into my eyes, and the magical moment I can't capture happens.

"Just a moment moms" I don't know what I'm doing, but I walk in his direction, and stop just a feel steps from him "Hi, do you mind if I take some pictures of you?" He blinks slowly, he had brown eyes with the same tone of wet earth after a summer rain, a long nose, and I try not to overthink about his lips.

"Sorry. I'm Korean. I. Don't. Speak. Your. Language" He says slowly. Shit! But I could use the cellphone translator, quickly I type my question, I play the translator voice, praying that it doesn't sound weird and show my camera when the robotic voice stops, he smiles and agrees with a nod.

I step back pointing my camera at him, that's when I knew everything about him could be magical. After taking some photos, I type into the translator once again "Thank you for letting me photograph you" he makes a bow, and I hold onto the thought of him as one of my mom Eloise's princes in her favorites novels. I can't say goodbye yet so I make an excuse "Can you teach me I bit of Korean?" I type really fast, and when the translator says it he looks confused "So we… I mean, I was planning to go on a trip to West Asia, knowing a little bit of Korean could be helpful… So can you? Just a few words…" So he holds the cellphone.

"My name is Lee Soo-hyuk," He says, and right there is another magical moment that I couldn't capture with my camera, but would be sealed in my heart, he types on the translator "When do you intend to go? I'm coming back next week, maybe I can be your guide?"

Organizing my bags I ask myself if he feels the same way I felt looking at him when he looks at me, like love at first sight, this sounds crazy, but the energy of that moment wasn't meeting him, I was finding him, after a long search, the wait was over.

"You never believed in love at first sight" Mom Eloise sighed, "Now look at you, going far away because of this magical guy…."

"He seems to be a cool guy bae" Mom Penelope interceded for me.

"Soohyuk is the nephew of the woman that is the owner of the restaurant in the corner mom, which implies he is not a complete stranger. It will be just a few weeks and I will be back…" I kiss both of their chicks "Or not!" Running before they could answer "See you soon moms, love you two to the moon"

"We love you too sweetie" They scream back.

Soohyuk was waiting in the car, smiling, waving his hand… Oh lord, Shakespeare be wrong for once, and don't let this violent passion in my heart have a sad ending.

"Hi" I said in korean and Soohyuk's smile became bigger. "Did you eat?" Soohyuk taught me this was the korean way to ask if the other person was okay.

"I was too nervous…" I say in my language "Should we eat at the airport?" His accent was so cute that I couldn't hold myself and give a kiss on his cheek.

"Yes" I keep speaking in korean "I did my homework… and translated one of my favorite songs…"

"Sing" He say looking at the road. I pick the paper on my pocket, clean my throat and start sing Falling Fast by Avril Lavigne with my broken korean but without giving up when I finish I look at Soohyuk, his face is red. Oh shit, am I scaring him by being too intense? Before I could say anything he looked at me briefly and said "Whatever our souls are made of, hers and mine are the same." He recited Emily Bronte in my language, right here in this second I knew there's no turning back.

"Mister Lee Soohyuk, you're gonna have to take responsibility for your actions…" I keep using my broken korean. I better learn it fast.

"I can say the same thing about you…"

10 years later

"Soohyuk my son, you should convince her to hire someone to photograph your wedding" Mom Eloise said "When on Earth has someone seen a BRIDE taking photos on her own wedding?" Soohyuk laughs.

"I said the same thing ommoni, but according to my fiance she just couldn't find someone that took pictures of me in the right way" He poses again and I set up the camera timer, we were all together wearing hanboks.

"My daughter in law has an amazing eye for photos. I'm sure she was the best choice after all" My mother in law protects me, I walk in their direction to assume my place in the family photo.

"Thank you ommoni" I say, mom Penelope is holding my hand.

"You look so beautiful today, my angel" She whisper to me "We love you so much"

"I love you too moms" They hold my hand, while my other hand is wrapped around the love of my life's arm. That magical moment is captured.

"We gonna receptionate the other guests" My mother in law say "Now take couple pictures, enough so we can have one each"

"Yes, ommoni" I answer, the moment they leave the room Soohyuk holds my hand.

"Before we take another picture I have a wedding gift fot you…" Soohyuk gives me a box "I know photography is magic to you, but for me you're the most magical creature there is" When I opened the box, I saw pictures of me, the first day we met, during the conversation with my mom's, our first class when he was teaching me korean, at the airport the day we came to Korea, on our first apartment, my first photograph exposition in Korea, our engagement dinner, the tears on my eyes start to run down my face. Dammit, my make up "The magical you is what makes everything else magical, my dear. When we first met ten years ago, I felt I wasn't meeting you…"

"But finding you…" I conclude, Soohyuk's eyes were full of tears like mine "I know, I felt the same way" He holds me in his arms.

"I love you" He says in my language and my heart melts.

"Saranghaeyo"

#soohyuk #Lee SooHyuk #soohyuk fanfiction

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the-void-writes · 1 year

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Hello again friend!! I hope these are okay for Tristan !! <3

COLLISON, CRYING, SLEEPING, DONUT, SHAVED ICE, BOUQUET, MOON, SPIDER, SEE-NO-EVIL, OPEN BOOK (hehe), PRESENT, PAPERCLIP, SPARKLE, RED HEART

(sorry this is so much lol im really curious about them <333)

It's not too much at all! Thank you so much friend! 💖 You really helped me figure out some more details!

COLLISON - What emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

Affection, honestly. Not only does it fluster him, but at first, he won’t believe it’s sincere. Too many people have ridiculed him for his polyamorous interests, so it takes him a minute to believe that someone genuinely accepts him.

CRYING - What makes them cry? Do they cry easily?

Surprisingly, Tristan doesn’t cry that often, but when he does, it’s usually from something cute he saw (or in the bedroom lol)

SLEEPING - Do they fall asleep easily? What helps them sleep?

Hearing someone else’s heartbeat, feeling their presence and warmth, maybe hearing them hum a bit before they both drift off. Cyrus hums for him a lot.

DONUT - Favorite sweet treat?

Val gets him hooked on papanasi, these cheese donuts served with fruit and icing and sour cream. He also enjoys the local apple cakes in Hawthorn’s bakery.

SHAVED ICE - Do they still have any objects from their childhood? What significance does it have to them? What would their reaction be if they lost it?

Tristan’s got a hat that belonged to his grandfather. He used to wear it as a kid and pretend he was a secret agent. It would be upsetting to him if he lost it, but everyone in the manor would turn stones to find it for him.

BOUQUET - Create a bouquet for them! What do those flowers mean? Are any of the flowers their particular favorite?

White Camellia - Purity, Innocence, Admiration

Yellow Tulips - Literal translation, “There’s sunshine in your smile.”

Lavender - Devotion

White Jasmine - Sweet Love

MOON - What is your oc's greatest wish? How far are they willing to go for it?

To make the world a slightly better place each day, no matter what.

SPIDER - What is their biggest fear? Do they have any irrational / mundane fears?

Being abandoned after finally finding happiness and love.

SEE-NO-EVIL - What’s a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

This poor guy acts more touch-starved than Cyrus. He doesn’t like appearing needy or clingy, though he can’t help but latch onto positive affection.

OPEN BOOK - Do they like reading? What’s their favorite genre?

As silly as it sounds, he loves to read mystery novels. People try to argue that he’s living out the real thing, but he loves the simple nature of a heist mystery, rather than the gloominess of searching for a missing show crew that troubled his partner so much.

PRESENT - What types of presents would they be most happy to receive? Are they good at gift giving?

Anything that’s food. He loves trying new things to eat, especially sweets. In return, he’s an investigator so of course he knows the best presents to give people. Val didn’t even realize they needed a new printer until Tristan bought one for them.

PAPERCLIP - A random fact.

Tristan can’t hold a tune to save his life. He’s very glad his partners are so musically gifted, because he loves listening to them play together.

SPARKLE - What is their most prized possession? What do they value?

His grandfather’s hat is the one item he has with the most sentimental value. He enjoys moments spent with loved ones far more than material goods.

RED HEART - Their love language(s)?

Quality time, and physical and verbal affection. He loves spending time with Val and Cyrus, and when they hold him close and compliment him, he feels like he’s finally found heaven.

#writeblr #ask games #wip: secrets of lockhart manor

6 notes · View notes

blankdblank · 2 years

Text

The White Dove Pt 24 - The Code

Fair warning, realized it’s spelled Coulson, not Coulsen. Don’t know how many chapters I have it wrong but, it is what it is. Same guy, his name is just a bit more flavorful with an E in this au if it’s every damn chapter so far and all the ones after this. I swear, i’ve written almost 40 chapters for this and I just freaking realized this 24 chapters in while searching for gifs. Go figure.

So, day behind but I fell asleep early yesterday, mini huff is over hope you guys enjoy the new chapter and fun within. :)

...

Melinda May against better judgment of the spy agency was mid plan of flights for herself and her uncle she refused to leave in their custody to spurn the chance her family would have to see her uncle again. Whilst she worked out those finer details cuffed to an interrogation room table after his attack on Pierce Cooper peered blankly at Coulsen who sat across from him. The latter who asked once he gained the nerve to upon being alone, “So you taught Pluto Pear. You wouldn’t happen to know who James Barnes is?”

Cooper replies, “A good deal better than you do. We took turns handling her education.”

Coulsen asked, “Turns?”

Cooper replied, “More I was the sparring partner while Barnes taught her. Though I headed her language lessons, and geographical acclimation education. To be successful in any environment.”

“Quite extensive lessons for a child.” Coulsen said without thinking.

“She was expected to survive any possible situation, in language, terrain, environment, arms, vehicular and aviation. Doomsday preppers are wild, but profitable.” He paused and gave Coulsen a hint of a smirk asking, “Are you asking about Barnes because you have seen him or can’t find him?”

“Pluto informed his best friend that he’s very much alive unlike history assumed. You know where to find him?”

“You have YouTube on your phone?” Cooper asked making Coulsen’s brow arch up and his eyes drop to the now overturned palm on the right hand chained to the table that is bolted down to try and prevent his escape or attacking another agent.

“You’re telling me Barnes has a YouTube account?” Curiously bringing out his phone he opened the YouTube app, asking, “What am I searching for?”

Smirking at him Cooper named your account, “Who Needz Ankles, with a Z on needs.” Then said as Coulsen turned it to face him after a couple moments of skimming over the page that had hundreds of videos since you were taken. “Latest one dedicated to Ghost Of Ankles Past.”

“It’s a video on embroidering a hand towel with fish,” Coulsen said intrigued at the wide variety of craft or food and plant related videos you had posted they didn’t know you had been posting.

“Just tap it,” he said then pointed a finger to the notepad and pen that Coulsen eased across the table that Carter shifted into the proper position and sat with Coulsen watching the video until the end of the 34 minute mark. While working on the embroidery clearly a tradition in your video was a lengthy list of page, line and letter numbers from The Hobbit book for a poem you had written. A sort of brain teaser for those who subscribed to your page they in the comments had translated stirring up a bit of a battle over whose translation was right.

“We don’t have a copy of that book here, but we can get one.” Coulsen said.

“Don’t need the book.” Cooper answered writing down letters that by the code of the numbers chosen as certain numbers were dots and others dashes to grow into a Morse Code message he showed to Coulsen and said, “Look for a comment from Ghost Of Ankles Past.”

Coulsen for the few minutes it took to get to the end of the page that had blown up since you had gained a following in association to Eddie’s growth in the papers remained silent then stated, “There isn’t one.”

“Search his account,” Cooper said and Coulsen turned the phone to type in the account name in the search bar that pulled up a series of videos of silent hike videos with boots and a hand that brings random things into view of the camera.

“Rocks and leaves?” Coulsen asked a bit confused at the subject matter.

“He also splits wood,” Cooper replied slightly amused making Coulsen’s brow arch up. “When was the last one posted?”

“Over a year ago,”

Cooper nodded and said, “Guessing before Pluto came to the country, right?” Parting Coulsen’s lips. “Means he’s out of country or someone’s keeping him away from his buried modem.”

“Buried how?” Coulsen asked, “Maybe we can track it.”

“Buried as in the ground, so it can’t be found. He doesn’t leave his system up and running stashes parts around the mountains.” He paused and said, “We’re just meant to teach the kids, first time he saw her though something clicked. No one hurts her, no one, and rules or no rules when she was told to make videos when the woman who housed her said to they left messages so he’d know where she was, when she needed something.” Cooper slid the notepad to Coulsen that he looked over what was written, “She told him she saw his picture in a museum, wants to know where he is. That she met Rogers and to be careful. Trust no one.”

“Careful for what?” Coulsen asked feeling his pulse quicken.

“Because they think the only one who can bring her back is him.”

“Who is hunting her?” Coulsen asked and Cooper simply shrugged. “You know, you attacked Pierce.” Making Cooper smirk openly at the reminder of the frightened expression on the secret double agent’s face when he was kicked through that wall. “He tried to step in Pluto’s path once.”

“I can tell,” Cooper said with a smile, “There’s only one way they can keep Barnes away and they’re too stupid to keep it up for long. World’s getting louder and when he gets loose they won’t be able to stop him from following her message to town. And they won’t be able to make him leave when he gets here. They have no idea what a bit of her mystery can do, you won’t be able to find him, not without keeping close to her. He’ll turn up, and when he does you make sure to stand behind her.”

Melinda returned to the room looking between the two and said, “Our flight leaves in two hours, I have a car outside for us and we can shop when we get there, Dad has an appointment so we will have time to get you some things.” Cooper with a nod reached a hand over to loop two fingers under the cuff on his other wrist that with a single tug snapped undone followed by the next parting Coulsen’s lips.

Onto his feet Cooper rose offering a hand to Coulsen who accepted the odd gesture, “Been a pleasure. I imagine we’ll be seeing a good deal of each other as I get to know my niece.”

“That, we will,” Coulsen replied in he release of his hand and watch of Cooper casually stroll to join her at the door and into the first of many crowded halls out to the airstrip with gossip and stares from all they passed. Quiet until they got in the enclosed jet to finally have privacy to get to know one another a bit better on the way to the family reunion.

*.*.*

Notes in hand Fury took a drive to a gated suburb of Queens where he found an old friend outside on the porch of the house he shared with his daughter and grandchildren. “Now look what the wind blew in,” Dum Dum Dugan smirked up at the man who offered him an open hand to be shaken. “Must be something serious to bring you out here to see me.” His head tilted to the side, “Come on in. Give us some privacy.” Inside the home Fury was led behind his motorized chair bound friend showed him into the elevator to head up to the second floor where the soundproof study where they could talk privately.

“I know I shouldn’t just drop in on you,” Fury said making Dugan chuckle to himself and turn to face the chair Fury lowered into.

“Yes you should,” Dugan replied, “All the best to make use of these old bones.”

Fury brought out a manila envelope he had tucked inside the inner pocket of his jacket he passed to Dugan, stating, “We recovered an assassin, uncle to one of our agents who was assumed dead who pointed us in the direction of some coded messages inside videos.” Dugan opened the envelope to bring out the stacks of sheets of transcribed messages from each of the listed videos Cooper pointed out to Coulsen. “In the video they’re mentioned to be ciphers from The Hobbit, but those are poems, a far stretch from the message the dead man was able to get from it.”

“Hmm,” Dugan said looking over the top message that had a copy of the book translation and what Cooper had translated from the video. “So it’s a hidden message within a cipher. Any clue who the message is meant for?”

“James Barnes,” Fury said parting Dugan’s lips, “Apparently he’s somewhere in Russia, teaching teenagers how to parachute and dive, and box. One of his students ran into Rogers in the Smithsonian in his exhibit, tipped us off. Coulsen was told they’re joined at the hip and eventually even if we can’t find him, he’ll come looking for her to answer her message. Apparently he hasn’t answered her since she moved out here. We’ve been warned not to stand between them when he shows up.” Dugan kept his eyes on Fury who took a moment and asked, “I do have to ask, he ever mention Chickadee?”

That had Dugan chuckle, and point to an edition of the boxing magazine focused on that championship when Bucky met her, “Nothing like how they printed on it. Steve always brought up their double dates. But Bucky wouldn’t talk about her too much. Didn’t get too much time with her, but said she lit up when he got her on that dance floor.” Then he asked, “What about her?”

“The girl, looks just like her. Even Rogers went to try and demand answers out of her, only got a sarcastic comment that she sent herself back in time just to dance with Barnes.”

That had Dugan chuckle and turn his focus to the paper again, “Girl’s got spice to her, Peggy would have loved her. She taken care of?”

“We’ve had an eye on her couple years now. Good kid, though we can’t press her or drag her back to Russia to help us find him so we are following her breadcrumbs we are finding.”

Dugan looked up smirking again, “Now I’m intrigued, she’s related to Barnes after all? Or someone more untouchable than a dead man?”

And Fury couldn’t help but smirk answering, “Alexander Pierce is terrified of her.”

“And you’ve been watching her for a couple years, that related to when he showed up in a body cast?”

“I thought I could trust him about my curiosity on her, but I saw her hide from him the first time she saw him in public. Next thing I know he goes missing a few hours and is dropped back at HQ beaten to a pulp, now he’s saying things like she’s a kid in over her head.”

“Now that’s just foolish, even just saying that he has to know would lift a flag.”

“Exactly my thinking.” Fury answered, and asked as Dugan looked back to the sheets for the first message then set the book cipher translation on the desk. “First thoughts?”

“Cipher’s cover so scrap that,” and he wet his lips and used his finger to trace along the lines trying to match the page or line and letter number that didn’t seem to line up to the number value of each letter or even match those used later. “Number value doesn’t match,” he muttered and mumbled, “Has to be something you can recall.” And as his thumb trailed the first line he muttered the simplest of translations Bucky might know off the top of his head they used from the war. “Odd, even, odd.”

Fury leaned in asking, “You see a pattern?” then watched as Dugan raised a finger to turn his chair around and bring out his overhead projector that Fury stood to bring down the screen pointed out to him across from the seats. Clear sheets and dry erase markers were brought out to have the sheet projected and between each line he first assigned dots and dashes to odds and evens. “Morse Code,” Fury realized and watched the message be uncovered.

“Nine’s and threes are something else,” Dugan said bringing over the translation from Cooper then said, “Nine are spaces,” he said drawing dashes over the nines to leave the threes circled. Letters from the code were written out and he read the end line to himself, “Trust no one. What the hell happened to this kid?” he asked himself and let Fury copy down the translation while he moved onto the second message until he found the video message from the night you attacked Pierce that had him chuckle. “I am an open book. Rooster followed me home. Clipped his wings, stay safe. Polyphemus?”

“At least she went famous, he’s a Cyclops in Homer’s Odyssey.”

Dugan smirked and looked to the page again, “Cyclops left an egg outside my window. Voyeurs welcome, I am an open book. I still hear you, trust no one.”

“Still hear you,” Fury muttered and continued to repeat it to himself mentally trying to understand until the next message was translated.

“Are you still listening? Everything hurts here. I still hear you. When they send for me I will sting relentless. I broke today.” He said and paused feeling the weight of those words before moving onto continuing the message under Fury’s watch. “Heimdall visited me, the Norns are guiding my feet. He swore to return to me again.”

“That was well over a year before Thor came to Earth. Heimdall is the gatekeeper.”

“My ancestors sent me a boat to guard my nights. Are you cold? Am I replaceable? I will not flinch. Trust no one.”

Dugan’s brows furrowed and Fury asked, “What is that look for?”

“Trust no one, every message ends with that. What if it means something else?”

“Another message inside of a message inside of a cipher disguise? Sure. What else could that mean?”

“Could be a twist on take no prisoners. Keep looking forward. Something like that. Sign of unity. And there’s no response from him yet?”

“No, older videos are being transcribed, we can check his for what code their might be there but there’s no telling if he used the same cipher technique or not.”

“Take notes on any and everything. One thing I know about Barnes is if she’s out there he won’t leave her alone. Especially if when he is catching up in the first video she sent she’s asking if she’s replaceable.”

Across the front of a notepad he had brought Fury made a timeline of the notes and noted down the posted videos of Bucky that Coulsen was currently watching each of the two to three minute ones with random fifteen minute wood splitting ones in between. “Okay, and the diving picture is dated up here,” he murmured copying the date on the printed picture you copied and posted from your file at the Red Room.

“Pictures?” Dum Dum asked looking up from the older printings off the videos on your page a program Fury’s handheld was transcribing what you said to print off the printer beside the note covered desk being used to organize the messages.

“She posted pictures of trips with Bucky, how she proved to Steve he was alive.” Fury said marking down the trips that in his detailed dig into Bucky’s past had those dates stand out against notorious assassinations in those areas and presumed locations from those that couldn’t be placed. Details sinking the knot in his stomach a bit lower to every coincidence.

“Well the first ten have no cipher, there are odd references we can dig into later. Cipher kicks in when she’s nine.”

Fury nodded, “She said she got her pilot’s license when she was eleven, maybe that’s when they started to bond.”

Every message was odd and had Dugan shake his head for what they could mean with more odd references until he said, “Polyphemus again,” making Fury look up and furrow his brow curiously at the mention of the famed cyclops, “Who apparently sent ravens to their hair appointment.”

“So I’m not the cyclops?” Fury muttered. “Who is the cyclops then?”

“Not a clue, trust no one kicks in at twelve. After an encounter with Echo, capitalized.”

“Another Greek myth figure, did he like myths?”

“Not that I recall. But they are like fairytales and she was a kid maybe those were stories they let her read.”

Fury answered the call coming in on his phone on speaker asking, “Coulsen what do you got for me?”

A sigh sounded first and Coulsen answered, “He doesn’t say anything, just walking, then there’s rocks or leaves he shows and then there’s the longer wood splitting ones.”

“What kind of leaves and rocks?” Dugan asked and said to Fury, “Could be geographical.”

“They’re common, not helping at all, down to the color of the dirt or type of grass or moss on the paths and trees seen in the winter ones. All common to anywhere in Russia with one odd one out in Japan that I did check could be the paragliding location for one of the pictures we couldn’t place. Nothing distinctive, I have clothing colors, style of boots, guess at style of jeans or cargo pants. I can’t make heads or tails of this he does nothing and somehow all of these two hundred and seventy five videos are responding to her account alone. Even the comments are people trying to guess why he has the account who found it by tracing through her page.”

“Take the type of stones or foliage and run it through the Hobbit. Maybe there’s a link there.” Fury said making Coulsen sigh, “But first send me the notes on the videos you have and call me back.”

“Already emailed you the list, I will check the book.” He said hanging up to lay his head down a moment and groan, before sitting up in his seat to crack open the book he had been glaring at for a break before the call. Knowing he’d have to cave in and read the book eventually.

“Alright, first video, his response is a walk and a leaf,” every video seemed to have a varied response that formed a vague pattern. Though the most telling of all was the first awful message that had them frozen in silence a few minutes about your femur being broken by someone also named by an alias. “That was a wood splitting video.”

Dugan went down the list and said, “This one mentioning napalm equation has wood splitting too.”

“Napalm?” Fury asked dishearteningly that had Dugan nod and show him the message. “Starts her message was late and mentions the equation and that she was sent to bleeding feet. But that might be code.”

“They dosed this kid with napalm..!” Fury growled to himself and thought back to how jumpy you even now seemed to still be on occasion but far less frequently since bonding to Eddie. “We got walking videos where he shows things, others he’s stopped looking at things, then she’s hurt and he splits wood.”

“Walking videos, he’s traveling maybe to or away from her. Still videos, he’s in or out of town maybe. Splitting wood, either he’s going to kill them-,”

“Or he’s telling her to,” Fury muttered, and shook his head, “She was three messages in when that femur video was sent.”

Dugan said, “Doesn’t fit Bucky. Splitting wood means he’s going for blood. This one she sounds scared, maybe angry, he sent back rocks. Confidence, be firm, got to be something like that.”

Fury nodded, “Could be. And the leaves, leaves are green. Green is money, food, eat? Food is plants, alive? Proof she or he is alive?” He asked and they traded shrugs. “Timing is all over the place there’s no Morse code, there’s nothing to hear-...”

Dugan asked, “What? Think of something?”

“Explosives have frequencies, metals have frequencies, we can’t hear it!” Fury called Coulsen back and said, “Coulsen run the videos back on frequencies for metal and explosives. All of them, his and hers.”

That would be the most telling and underneath every injury video you named names and inside the wood splitting videos clear names were repeated as if confirmed as dead. Your videos showed more details of what they already knew, schedules of the dance school and blips when you would be taken for hair and nail care before falling silent. While his shared locations that proved he was off in a stretch of wilderness that moved each time showing no real pattern around clear messages in Morse code swearing he would be back and how many more days until he could be there again.

Again focus was put in the cipher as plugging in the code to find new words from the letters of the phrase ‘Trust No One’ to match the first words that began with each letter in the poems. Using each showed a new set of phrases that only around those isolated areas seemed to be a confirmation of some sort of your knowing he was there. All the more puzzling every little detail was a convoluted web they couldn’t fathom how it began or how it was considered to use this as a form of conversation unless it was meant to drive those wishing to unravel it more mad.

Your messages on different frequencies showed various layers to your life while his showed utter devotion to near obsession with his prized pupil. All until the sudden stop after his mention of the word ‘Ice’ after your note of being named a Sugar Plum Fairy. A plan was mentioned, and then you were gone. And the hidden frequencies repeated the same message that you could hear him somewhere related to that phrase, ‘Ice.’

The stupid Rooster Fury and Dugan settled as Pierce, was noted by you to be the one to flip some sort of flag and then there was a promise you would let him find you. That there was a conversation to be had.

Dugan said, “The last message from him said he was told that they were going on a trip together and now the girl is in this country, just gone, he’s gonna be pissed when he finds out.”

“And she’s got tabs on him somehow.”

“Pierce has every reason to be petrified of this kid,” Dugan said with a chuckle. “Got tabs on Russia and there’s layers upon layers to dig into. We might not even have the right messages at all. But most hint she’s waiting on a response from him.”

“She’s a good kid.” Fury repeated with a nod, “However she got out of all this, she’s got her head on straight now focused on being a kid and her schooling and work to stay here. I think they were going to escape,”

Dugan said, “But he got stuck somewhere. He got her out and he’s still stuck there in a cell maybe.”

Fury sighed and smoothed a hand over the top of his head, leaning back into the back of his chair staring for a moment at the floor in front of his feet. “She’d say something, knows we’re looking, said to send Black Widow to Russia to find him, but she can’t go back.” Fury looked up at Dugan, “She’d get caught,”

Dugan finished his sentence, “and they’d take her where Bucky is being held.”

“We don’t have the fire power to get her back out though. We lost the Project Insight ships. There’s got to be something she thinks we have we could use to find him.” Fury said shaking his head again. “So all we can do is wait, Russia won’t let us in the airspace and Widow won’t risk being caught up in their net again. Eventually he’ll shake loose.”

Dugan tapped a finger on the stack of notes in front of him sensing his friend was readying to make an excuse to leave, “You keep me in the loop on this. Help however I can, as many layers as it takes.”

Fury nodded and stood to shake his friend’s hand, “Thank you. Truly. No one else could make heads of the code but the dead man we found.”

“Well if he’s unruly you send him my way and maybe I can help to shake another tip on a layer loose for you. We’re gonna find our downed Commando.” Fury answered with a smirk and gathered his things to be shown the door to drive where he felt he had to go to wind down after this long afternoon in that study.

The final thought being, Bucky chose to infiltrate that particular child ring for this particular child and somehow was trapped and said child had a way to get him out. And the only ones he knew might know more were the mysterious possibly still alive Chickadee, and her rumored descendant if not alternate alias, Misique. The one who might know a way to get to Bucky as she’d been looking after Pluto all this time since she arrived in New York possibly handed off for said protection out of Bucky’s reach until he could get free.

That was the puzzle though, while you had the fabled Chickadee’s face Misique had her powers only confusing things all the more on how the trio all were linked together since Pluto’s lineage was clearly marked on pages dedicated to her still painfully missing parents. Her mother namely remembered as missing heir to an Earl in Denmark who as of yet by the child was not mentioned to have made contact yet, cementing the fact they were not taken for ransom from him. There was no move he could see without risking Pluto. Again answers came in the form of one response, just wait, and he hated it.

*.*.*

A bit excited over a new outfit you had found in the second hand shop found you a bit overdressed in the theater. Pushing a broom in your go to platform wedges underneath bell bottomed overalls with a sleeker high waisted top, parallel lines of mint buttons from hip to bust in pitch black topped by mint silk straps to rest under bows on top of your shoulders that sat bare thanks to the ribbed off the shoulder top you had found. That was white with pastel yellow and mint flowers across the main layer, while the lace overhang that draped down the top and your biceps in vine resembling white lace gave it a classier finish to the skin baring top you couldn’t wear to school without a sweater over it.

Compliments came from the workers around your busy self who helped to move things from person to person to help on the finishing rush of another stage setup to the latest play. Each who knew the designers wondered how you could afford them working here and of so why you chose to remain here pushing a broom of money was no issue. Clearly you didn’t want to act or didn’t have the nerve to risk your job to press to audition for any play you had helped to ready the stage for.

Which after one person had learned of your dance history had people assuming the clothes were gifted form some patron to not give up hope until you would be able to be in another show as you mentioned dance lessons fairly often during the summers working here. A student being told to focus attention and funds on lessons for dance who was admirably working in a theater of another kind to perhaps keep the dream of the stage present often while you toiled.

All the same in a couple weeks you would have to scale back hours again and made yourself useful to those who clearly needed it with the procrastinating show manager who always waited to last minute every show the place was slowed to show.

Until lunch however you worked and then made your way outside to head back for your apartment, stopping only at a rather intoxicatingly scented shop along the way due to the new delivery of salami and cheddar jack you smelled being added to the refrigerated display cases of ingredient options to choose from. Third in line at Delmar’s Deli you had time to read all the menus and options for purchase or creation of sandwiches. Stealing a few glances at the calico cat, named Murphey, who was strolling about his usual lounging counter, muttering about the right way to lay in the various streams of sunlight for optimal comfort and to notice the momentarily frozen Peter Parker who entered the doorway seeing you there on his way back from Ned’s.

“Hey Peter,” you said when he practically crept his way to line behind you. Making the shop keep behind the counter smirk at the interaction of your aloof self and his nervous twitch of a grin and nod in response as he was locked in silence looking you over, namely your long intricate braid decorated by several of your bees as clips to hold stray curls in place and out of your face.

“Party?” He asked. And you shook your head brushing your loose bangs behind your ear in his move aside as a man in the display behind him wanted to walk around the counter there.

“No, back from one of my jobs, new outfit wanted to see how it moved.”

“Oh,” he said a bit confused pausing a moment with his lips in a loose open o as the thoughts tried to register on why someone would do that.

And a bit wider your grin spread to explain, “I can’t wear the top to school without a sweater, which would throw the whole feel off. The waist is a bit tighter than I imagined on the overalls as well. Now I know what top to wear with it until it is sweater weather.”

“Oh,” he said with a nod a bit more confidently on why you said what you had.

“On the loose for the last hoorah of summer?”

“Oh,” he said again out of habit making you giggle as he added in a quick stammered addition, “At my friend’s, Ned. He had to go to the dentist, but we’re gonna meet at the theater later.” He nodded again and said, “My aunt said you got punched, and shot with some sort of toxin. That must have sucked.” He said to break the silence making the man in front of you steal a look over his shoulder to see who was behind him in line.

“I am a magnet for chaos,” you giggled back, “If you ever want to find a trap just follow me around. Sure fire way.” You said and he let out an anxious chuckle.

“My aunt said your nice too.” He said with eyes flinching a bit wider in panic at why he said that making the man behind the counter turn around to hide his own chuckle at the turn in the interaction.

“Well it does help distract from how odd I am.” You said and he couldn’t help but smirk at your answer and lack of turn away from him. “Do you like Leer?” You said making his brows arch up, “King Leer, your aunt said you wanted to join the decathlon, Mr Harrington is a bit obsessed with quoting him when we get to Lit discussions.”

“Thanks, no, not, very big on Leer. I will look into him though, Shakespeare, right?”

“Yes.”

“I will give Will a shot again, had to read Romeo and Juliet in school for a play and was a bit scarred for how that turned out. Beat the quarterback out for Romeo and him and his friends spent the play booing me, then his girlfriend sneezed on me at the kiss scene to get out of it. So I might not be the strongest on the Lit portions.”

“Well I can cover that if you are current on pop culture references. More than a bit behind.”

“Ya, must be rough. Pretty far from Sweden.”

“We are, yes,” you giggled and took a step to the side as the man in front of you moved up to reach the counter for his turn in Peter’s head shake for another weird thing to say.

“How do you go to two schools?” He asked when the thought popped into his head widening a grin across your lips. “Like one on the weekends? Or-?”

“Half days actually. Few classes at Midtown then I go to Columbia and come back for Color Guard rehearsals, pep rallies and games.”

“Wow, you must get tired. I’d forget where I left my head doing that.” He said making you giggle and him chuckle at the response to his reactionary admission.

“Usually am tired. I work two jobs too during the semesters and four on summer breaks when I’m not traveling. Tired is common. Usually sleep on the bus or in halls between trips in free time.”

He shook his head, “Ya I couldn’t do that I wouldn’t wake up I’m too deep of a sleeper. Eyes shut I am gone.”

It was your turn to order and after you did you said, “I have those moments. But I’m sure you’ll like Midtown. Have a friend in marching band too, had more but they graduated early last year to go to universities all over, I’m sure you’ll make friends no issue at all.”

That had him let out an awkward chuckle, “I’m um, not very popular. Never been.”

“Perhaps you’re in the wrong creek then, eventually you’ll find your creek.”

“Have you?” He asked and you smiled shaking your head.

“I found some friends though, even if most are teachers. Not very popular myself.” You said accepting your bag in trade for the exact cash, “Enjoy your movie and see you in school.”

“See your movie,” he said with brows furrowing making the man behind the counter chuckle. “No, at school.” He corrected himself in your smiling path to the door flinching a wave in response to yours.

*.*.*

“Tell us again what happened.” One of the two officers repeated after having copied down the statement the man they arrested had just given them inside the interrogation room he was cuffed to a table he’d been showed to once being photographed.

Post huff the man with the word ‘Thief’ across his forehead in baggy layers covering everything but his hands and neck up, each in alternating shades of grey to burnt orange, spoke again. “I was on the train, saw a girl who couldn’t have been five feet tall. Had a designer bag, clothes, shoes, shiny necklace and rings. Walked over, asked for the bag and she told me to go away.”

Again he sighed and stated flatly hoping if he just admitted it he could get off easier, “I pulled a knife, she pulled out a roll of duct tape from her bag. Put a bit around her fingers sticky side out and I swear she freaking teleported right in front of me! Same as these five linebackers, they grabbed the blade, snapped it off and wrapped my hand in tape around the knife handle and blade. Slung my arm back and shoved me back into a bar she watched as they taped them back together. Tore the tape and then wound it around my pants saying,” the cops were now trying to hold back smirks at the familiar words they had heard from several permanent marker branded criminals apprehended lately.

“’There, now no one can rob or rape you. No telling who has a weapon on them in this wild city of ours.’ Then slapped a strip of tape over my mouth and wrote on my forehead and across the tape on my pants and asked if I wanted a rape whistle, and apparently knew you two were coming on in three stops and I wouldn’t be taped up long.”

The warning about him having a knife was written across the strip of tape that was removed from his clothes the cops had bagged to go in his file during booking and the second officer said, “Just hang tight. We’ll have a car able to take you to the jailhouse here in a bit,” patting a hand on the table between them parting the lips of the criminal.

“Seriously? That was false imprisonment! That little freak attacked me!”

The first cop laughed, “It’s called a citizen’s arrest. Been a streak of that going around lately.” And stood as the other cop did to have the criminal gawk up at them.

“Either way, broken or not switch blades are illegal in New York, and like you said, you had a weapon kid didn’t.”

“Now, if you can give our sketch artist a positive ID on these five guys, or the girl, maybe we could do something to give a stern talking to about this little criminal and her gang who attacked you.”

And the cuffed man shifted in his seat stating weakly, “I didn’t, see their faces. And she, had a hat.”

The cops nodded again and said, “Of course she did.” And on the other side of the door one said to the other, “Wow, five guys this time. Last one said there were nine defensive ends,” accented with a chuckle the other shared.

“How many guards this time?” another asked stirring up a round of chatter from the other officers both on the end and beginning of their shifts who seemed to be on the edge of a betting pool for the next one to be found.

The only one detail similar between each criminal brought in for varied offenses relating to possessions of weapons they were found with during attempted robberies and assaults was the tiny girl with duct tape the press now had dubbed the Duckling who was serving out her own fiery form of duck justice. Nowhere near as intimidating as the Hulk or Iron Man to common criminals but enough to boost the morale of officers as more petty crimes seemed to be popping up lately.

*.*.*

Pt 25

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