#also the translations are courtesy of google translate so um

[azukisoul]

Translation of GinHiji manga/dj: "Together." by 礼央。(pixiv) [non-h]

This was requested on Twitter, a heartwarming reincarnation story :") I loved translating it.

CLICK HERE FOR MANGA LINK | Out of courtesy to the artist I'm not reposting their art here, please visit the page, refer to the translation as you read along, and show the artist some love!

I do not mind uncredited text reposts but please DO NOT use my translation to scanlate/edit the manga and post the edits. Keep it text only and link to the source.

Downloadable translation on Google Docs

Translation

[page 1] S: Hijikata-san! H: Oh, glasses. G: Um, have you seen Gin-san?

[page 2] H: Oh, so you're alive. G: Huh!? G: Is it a bad thing that I'm alive? G: Wait. G: Hold on, you're on break? H: Well, yeah. G: Are you here to see me? H: I'm just taking a walk. G: Hmph. I know you're here to see me, though. H: Die, idiot. G: What have you been saying!? Am I not allowed to be alive!?

[page 3] H: Earlier, H: I saw glasses. G: Shinpachi? H: Yeah. H: He was looking for you, y'know. G: …. H: You… H: What are you H: thinking of right now? G: What's this all of a sudden? G: Is it because of Shinpachi? S: Gin-san has been acting weird lately. S: This morning, too, he said he's just heading out to buy Jump, but… H: Nah. H: Well… H: Yeah.

[page 4] H: He was worried about you. H: Hurry up and go home. G: Pfft. That's why you were surprised I'm alive? G: Hijikata-kun, are you an idiot? H: Shut up. G: Hey, wanna listen to me? H: Sure.

[page 5] G: You know, I… H: Mm. G: I found myself thinking that I'm happy. H: Mm. G: And then I ended up thinking about whether or not I'm allowed to be this happy. G: And then, somehow G: I suddenly got scared. H: I see. G: If I'm at home, G: there's Kagura, and Sadaharu, G: and during the day there's Shinpachi, too. G: It's fun there even if we're not doing anything. H: Mm.

[page 6] G: I ended up thinking that I don't want to let them go. H: …. G: It's silly, right? G: I've never even thought about what's ahead of me or what my future looks like. G: Someday, they all will go to walk on their own paths and leave my side. G: This won't go on forever. I know that, and I don't have a problem with that. G: I'll tell them that I'm happy they all found something they want to do. G: But then I thought about what I'm going to do by myself when that time comes. G: I closed my eyes G: and tried to picture that now emptier room. G: And then…

[page 7] G: I can only see you there, Hijikata. G: Hey. G: Will you live together with me?

[page 8] H: Those words made my heart clench. H: Ah. H: I want to protect this person. I want to be by his side. H: That's what I felt.

[page 9] H: Things progressed surprisingly quickly after that. H: Kondou-san cried and was happy for us. H: The kids welcomed us. H: And then, we H: someway somehow, became a family.

[page 10] G: Hey. G: Hijikata-kun. G: If I die first, what'll you do? H: Let's see. H: I'll put my ring on you H: and then I'll put your ring in a small bottle along with some small shards H: and I'll carry it with me until my death.

[page 11] G: So we can meet again up there? H: Nah. H: Not up there. *taps* H: So that in our next life H: I'll keep you from being alone again.

[page 12] H: Hey, hurry up!

[page 13] H: You're so damn slow, you fucking perm! You want us to leave together, right!? G: Wa-wait a minute, okay! I'm coming now, dammit! H: Your slowness is gonna make me end up being late! G: Sorry, sorry. *step step step* G: Man, Mr. Public Servant Police Officer here sure is strict about time. H: You're the one who's too loose about it! Also, hurry up and find a job already! G: No need. Right now, I'm trying to think about what I truly want in life. It's an important time for me. H: You'll probably go to the Employment Service Center today, anyway. G: I can't say anything to that! H: Hey. H: You…

[page 14] G: Okay, then. Be careful. H: What are you thinking about right now? H: Yeah. You too. H: What do you see? G: I'm gonna make dinner and wait for you, darling. H: That's freaking gross. H: Are you not afraid anymore? H: Right now, H: are you happy? *clack*

[page 15] H: Me? H: Yeah. I'm here with you, H: so I'm happy.

[page 16] The following is an additional story for "Together." that I drew for REOLOG (my doujin collection). *Depiction of death *Post-reincarnation

[page 17] G: I've been holding on to it as long as I can remember. G: I don't know who it belongs to.

[page 18] G: G to T… G: G is for Gintoki, I guess? G: Then who is T… G: I have absolutely no idea.

[page 19] G: My mom said G: I seem to have picked it up out of nowhere when I was a baby. G: Even when they took it away out of fear of me accidentally swallowing it G: or threw it away because it seemed strange, G: before they knew it, it always returned to the palm of my hands. G: My mom then had the idea of putting that ring around my neck.

[page 20] S: Heey, Gintoki! S: The entrance ceremony is about to start. G: Yeah, I'm coming. G: I have no idea if this ring even has any meaning at all. G: But, G: when I look at it, my heart becomes calmer, yet also excited, yet also painful. It's strange. G: I'm sure there is a meaning. G: I believe that. H: Haha. K: And then, Otae-san was like…

[page 21] G: Hiji… G: …kata.

[page 22] *glare* *ba-dump* G: Huh? H: Who the hell are you? G: Oh, sorry. Did I say something? H: Huh? Say something? Nah. You called my name, right? G: N… Name?

[page 23] O: Hijikata-san! What are you doing? H: Tch. You damn perm. G: His name is G: Hijikata, huh… G: Hijikata? I said his name? I did? G: Why? G: …. G: Hijikata.

[page 24] G: Hijikata. G: Who is that? G: Hijikata. G: Is that someone I know? G: Hijikata. G: Who the hell are you? G: Hey, Hijikata. G: Will you live together with me? G: Who?

[page 25] G: Hey, Hijikata-kun. G: If I die first, what'll you do? H: Let's see. H: I'll put my ring on you H: and then I'll put your ring in a small bottle along with some small shards H: and I'll carry it with me until my death. G: So we can meet again up there? H: Nah. H: Not up there. H: So that in our next life…

[page 26] H: So that in our next life… H: I'll keep you from being alone again. *rustle*

[page 27] G: Hijikata… G: …Toshirou. G: Yeah. I remember now. G: I remember now. G: G to T. G: This is G: the ring I gave him.

[page 28] G: In our next life… G: We met. G: We met, G: Hijikata.

[page 29] -

[page 30] H: I'll go too, soon. H: Wait for me, okay?

[page 31] H: Yorozuya.

[page 32] -

[page 33] H: I've been holding on to it as long as I can remember. H: Who does it belong to? H: What shards are these? H: I have no idea.

[page 34] G: And then, Zura and Sakomoto's like… G: Then, Takasugi fell (lol) G: Hilarious, right? H: …. H: Hey, Sakata. G: What is it, Hijikata-kun? H: Which class are you in? G: H (Ecchi) ♥ H: Don't say it in such a weird way. H: And this class is? G: A Class. H: Then, let me ask you this. H: Why are you always eating lunch here everyday!? We're not even on the same floor. H: Furthermore, here in front of me!

[page 35] G: That's clearly G: because I want to be next to you, right? G: Just kidding. *GROSSED OUT* *fidgets* G: Hey, come on! Don't look so clearly grossed out like that! H: Stop those jokes already. G: Hahah. It was just a joke. Don't mind it so much. H: Geez. I really don't date guys, okay? H: ….

[page 36] H: ? G: I know, I know. G: Hahah. H: Sakata Gintoki… H: The first time I met him was on the day of our high school entrance ceremony. G: Hiji… G: …kata.

[page 37] H: Who the hell are you? G: Oh, sorry. H: A guy with lazy eyes that resemble those of a dead fish. H: Rarely-seen silver hair. G: Did I say something? H: It should've been the first time we met, but it didn't feel like the first. H: You damn perm. H: After that day, H: For some reason, Sakata took a liking to me and popped up in my classroom whenever he had the time. O: Oh, it's Danna. K: Ooh, Gintoki, you're here. G: Don't interrupt us. Get the hell away, Gorilla. H: Kondou-san is not a gorilla!

[page 38] H: The guy is suspicious, H: but I don't think of it as strange and end up hating it. H: In fact, that smile H: perhaps even feels familiar to me. *ba-dump* G: Hm? What's wrong? H: Oh, nothing. H: I never knew you wear that thing.

[page 39] G: Oh, this? G: You're curious about it? H: Nah, not really. G: Don't worry. I don't have a girlfriend or anything. H: L-Like anyone even asked about that! G: Come on, just hear me out. G: This is something I've been keeping safe for as long as I can remember. G: I've been holding on to it without even knowing who it belongs to or why I can't let go of it. H: Without knowing… H: All this time? G: Yeah. G: All this time. H: For as long as you can remember? G: Yeah. G: As long as I can remember.

[page 40] H: I was shocked. H: His story is exactly the same as mine. H: The ring in that bottle… H: And his ring… *thump* H: What is happening? H: There's a strange pain in my chest. *ruffles*

[page 41] G: Take your time. H: …. G: I'll wait.

[page 42] H: T to G. H: Does it mean from Toshirou to Gintoki…?

[page 43] H: That can't be the case. H: The first time I met him was on the day of our entrance ceremony. H: I don't think I've met him before that. H: But… is that true? G: I'll wait. H: Could it be that I've just forgotten? H: I want to remember. H: I feel like I have to remember. H: If there really is something to remember. H: Or do I just want that to be the case? H: I don't know. H: On his ring… H: Are there somebody's initials carved on it?

[page 44] H: Sakata. H: Sakata Gintoki. H: Who are you? H: Sakata Gintoki. H: Really? H: Sakata Gintoki. H: I called his name like that?

[page 45] G: Hey, Hijikata-kun. G: If I die first, G: what'll you do? H: Let's see. H: I'll put my ring on you H: and then I'll put your ring in a small bottle along with some small shards H: and I'll carry it with me until my death. G: So we can meet again up there? H: Nah. H: Not up there. *taps* H: So that in our next life…

[page 46] H: So that in our next life… H: I'll keep you from being alone again. *shock...*

[page 47] H: Right. H: I know him. H: I know Sakata Gintoki. H: Something as important as this… H: How could I forget… *grip* G: Hijikata-kun. H: Tch. H: Damn it…! *runs*

[page 48] H: Haa… H: Haa… *ring* *ring* H: Hey, where the hell are you? H: What? H: Heading back home from work? Where!? H: Whatever, just tell me! H: Huh? H: Near the park? Then right now I'm… G: Hijikata!

[page 49] G: Hey, what's up? H: Sakata… H: Gintoki. G: Hijikata? What's wrong? H: Sorry. G: Hm? H: I said I'll keep you from being alone, but… H: Sorry. G: … H: You've been in front of me all this time, but H: I didn't realize. I'm sorry. H: I've never even called your name properly. H: I'm really sorry,

[page 50] H: Yorozuya.

[page 51] G: Hijikata, you… H: Hey, Yorozuya… H: Can you put it on me, too? G: …

[page 52] H: Hah. H: It fits me perfectly. I've been holding on to it as long as I can remember. I don't know who it belongs to. But…

[page 53] G: We finally meet, Hijikata. G: Don't cry. H: I'm just sorry for making you wait. H: Also, I'm not crying. G: You're totally crying. H: I'm not crying.

[page 54] Those faraway memories, bond, love. The miracle of being able to meet again.

[page 55] I won't let you be alone. I'll be by your side. To make you happy. To become happy. From now on, too, always.

[page 56] Together.

#gintama #gintama translations #sakata gintoki #hijikata toushirou #ginhiji #gintoki x hijikata #hijigin #*wipes tear* #also if anyone has requests i'm always welcome #ghg translations

[liketolaugh-writes]

Forget-Me-Not, O Lord

Author: liketolaugh Summary: Children do not follow Kenpachi. Kenpachi picks them up and takes them with him, and they are glad of it. Unfortunately for Kenpachi, Red isn’t quite the same as Yachiru.

When Kenpachi first came into town, Red was watching from a window.

It was easier to find an abandoned structure here; no one bothered to chase you out unless they wanted to use it. The shack Red lived in now was particularly run-down, so that wasn’t much of a problem, but he didn’t worry about the rain anymore.

And it was permanent. That was… new.

The point was, though, that he could see when a large, scarred man came into town, with a little pink-haired toddler on his shoulder. They were talking.

Red didn’t speak the language here, but he’d picked it up in bits and pieces over time. He still didn’t really speak the language, but he knew what he needed to. (Not much – even now, people saw his arm and murmured things.)

He watched them through the window for a while, frowning. New people didn’t come by often, and these two- they stood out.

The girl half-turned on the man’s shoulder, twisting around to look back as if she felt herself being watched, and then met his eyes.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he didn’t look away. After a moment, she smiled cheerfully and waved, and then she and the man turned a corner and were gone.

Red waited a few more minutes, and then ducked away from the window again, and put them out of his mind. They probably weren’t his problem anyway.

Much later in the day, Red had almost forgotten about the newcomers. His stockpile of (stolen) food was dwindling, so he needed to go and get more. The market was usually the best place, when it was busy enough that he could lose himself in the crowd, but not so busy it was hard to move.

Stomach growling irately, Red deliberately blended into the crowd and kept an eye on the stalls as he passed them by, his hands stuffed in his pockets. His face stood out a bit, which was annoying, but it wasn’t so bad if he kept his head down and his sleeves long.

“Hey! Mado-san!”

Red ignored the call and kept his head down, keeping half an eye on the store fronts as he passed them. There were usually a few tired or distracted shopkeepers that he could get his food from, but today, for some reasons, they were all alert, even tense.

Two hands closed around his left wrist, and he bit his tongue on a yelp. Before he had time to think he’d twisted away, his wrist easily sliding free of the grasping fingers. In another heartbeat, his wide gray eyes had found the big scarlet ones of the little girl who’d waved at him earlier.

For a moment, he stared at her, confusion and annoyance mixing in his mind until his mouth formed a scowl.

“What?” he demanded harshly, shoving his hand back into his pocket before someone noticed.

She beamed at him. Unsettling.

Then she chattered to him, but she was talking so fast that Red couldn’t even try to keep up, blinking at her in confusion. A second after she stopped, staring at him expectantly, her mouth formed a pout and she grabbed for his arm again.

He stepped back with the ease of long practice, still staring at her. It was enough to bring him into the alley, out of the not-so-busy street. Sadly, she followed him.

“Mado-san!” she repeated insistently, clasping her hands behind her back since her previous plan had been foiled. She was still pouting. “I’m taikutsuna. Won’t you asobu with me?”

Red just blinked, scowl deepening slightly.

“Where’s your dad?” he asked, the first thing that came to mind.

She crinkled her nose in confusion, and a beat passed in silence before her eyes widened in realization and she giggled.

“Ken-chan’s not my dad,” she chided, eyes dancing, with a big grin like it was a good joke.

Red raised his eyebrows. He didn’t see how the man who’d carried her over his shoulder like a particularly valuable sack of potatoes could be anything but her dad, but whatever. He was hardly an expert.

He shrugged. “Where’s… Ken-chan, then?” And why isn’t he keeping you away from me?

“Ken-chan’s isogashī,” the girl answered instantly, nodding to herself as if to reconfirm her own words.

Right. So either he hadn’t been watching and this little shit had wandered off, or he was a piece of shit and left her.

Either way, really.

Red considered. Honestly, it wasn’t his fucking problem to begin with. And it wasn’t like he could help the girl get back except by looking – he barely had the words for this conversation, and he’d still missed a bunch.

But.

She probably wouldn’t go away at this point. And she was so tiny she wobbled when she walked.

“What’s your name?” he asked the little girl, just to cement his fate.

She smiled brightly. “Yachiru!” She stuck out her hand. “What’s yours?”

He ignored the hand. “Don’t have one,” he said blandly, already regretting everything. He turned away towards the street before he could see the expression on her face and vaguely wondered how to find a hulking mountain of a man.

His stomach rumbled.

Right. There was that too.

A moment later, Yachiru was in front of him again, leaning forward, so close and so fast that Red reeled back with a yell. Yachiru ignored this.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, voice full of fascination.

Red opened his mouth to tell her what a stupid question that was, but at the sudden sound of heavy feet, he cut himself off and looked up.

It was a man, tall and broad and angry, interchangeable with all the others like him. Red thought he recognized his face, but he didn’t know his name.

Yachiru let out a soft squeak, but when Red glanced back, she didn’t look frightened. In fact, her eyes were narrowed, and even with that childish pout back on her lips, Red wondered if she, like many of the people here, was somewhat older than she looked.

Red was suddenly struck with the realization that he did not know how long he had been here, or how old he had been before.

“I know him!” Yachiru whispered urgently, reaching out to tug at Red’s elbow. Red shook her off, but half-turned to look at her anyway; the man had some ways to come. “Ha-san paid Ken-chan to kill his friend!”

It took Red a moment, and then he scowled.

“What does he do for work?” Red demanded, but it was a rhetorical question. The man had reached them.

He spoke. Faster, louder, and more complicated than Yachiru, Red didn’t catch much of it. But he heard ‘father’ and ‘kill’ and an entire fuckton of swear words, so it was easy enough to put together.

Fuck. This was not what he wanted. This was exactly not what he wanted.

The man was frothing at the mouth with rage. He wasn’t holding a weapon, but he didn’t need one – Red remembered where he’d seen him now.

Weak-dick son of a bitch. Red had seen him kicking some of the other street kids.

A scowl, deeper and darker than anything he’d directed at Yachiru, spread across his face.

“I’m gonna anata no o shiri o kikku!” Yachiru declared to the man, arms crossed. Red didn’t understand it, but really, it didn’t take much to figure out.

He huffed, and with only a little bit of remaining reluctance, he stood by Yachiru.

By the time Kenpachi found them, the still-nameless man was a quivering pile on the ground, and both Red and Yachiru were sitting on him.

Yachiru was giggling to herself, playing with the unconscious man’s hair as if he weren’t drooling blood. Red ignored this.

Instead, Red was thinking about the fight, which had been… much easier than he’d expected.

He’d actually kind of expected it to be token at best. A grown man against a toddler and a kid? Red had thought it would be a slaughter. An ugly one.

But Yachiru, for all that walking seemed awkward for her, packed a hell of a punch. And she bit.

Red shuddered.

And Red himself – he didn’t remember much about before, not anymore, but he knew that he’d been disinclined to fight. Because he was too small, and not strong enough-

He flexed his fingers and looked at the scraped knuckles, and thought about how he’d heard ribs crack.

All he had to show for the fight was a bruised cheek.

He jumped as booming, raucous laughter echoed down the alley, and didn’t relax until Yachiru leapt up and cried,

“Ken-chan!”

Oh.

Somewhat warily, Red looked over, closing his bleeding right hand over his exposed left.

The man was grinning down the alley, eyes glittering. He had a bloody sword slung over his shoulder, and more spots scattered over clothing and skin.

None of this bothered Yachiru, who ran right up to him and started tugging at his shirt, babbling about ‘Heikin-kun’ and ‘niisan’ and ‘reiatsu’.

‘Ken-chan’ stopped appreciating the carnage long enough to look down at Yachiru, listen to her babble herself out, and then grin even more violently.

“Niisan?” he asked.

Red was wondering the same thing, actually.

Yachiru beamed and pointed at Red. “Niisan!” she repeated, following it up with a firm nod.

“Huh.” The man looked at Red. Red scowled back, unsure what kind of epithet he’d been inflicted with now. “Hey kid, you got a name?”

Red frowned. “No.”

“You want one?”

Red scowled. “No!”

“Alright.” The man nodded to himself, and then said, “Name’s Zaraki Kenpachi. You use Kenpachi, or Ken-chan like the brat does.”

“Huh?” Red’s scowl dissolved in the face of his confusion. Kenpachi was going to take Yachiru and leave, wasn’t he?

Ignoring this, Kenpachi reached down and lifted Yachiru by the back of her shirt, and set her on his shoulder, the way she had been when Red first saw them. He made it look easy, like he was lifting a pillow.

Then Kenpachi reached over and picked Red up by his shirt, too.

Immediately, Red screeched and started struggling.

“Let me go!” he spat, reverting to English in his rage and thrashing in Kenpachi’s grip. “Let me go, you stupid fucking asshole son of a three-spined lobster-”

Apparently, though, his new strength didn’t extend to this guy, because Kenpachi just laughed at him.

“Ochitsuku,” he said, and set Red on his other shoulder.

Red froze.

Confused and wary, he glanced over at Yachiru, who just grinned at him again. Yachiru was not helpful.

Slowly, Red settled, and with his right hand, he got a solid grip on Kenpachi’s shirt.

He supposed that if things got too weird, he could just let go.

#red!allen #kusajishi yachiru #zaraki kenpachi #bleach #bleach crossover #d.gray-man #d.gray-man crossover #fanfiction #my writing #so aside from travelling 2500 miles #this is what i did with my day #and don't ask me about the title tbh #also the translations are courtesy of google translate so um #don't kill me lmao

[devotion]

rather be | p.p

summary: (🌮) peter teaches you how to cook on a date, courtesy of aunt may. ➳ college!au

warnings: mentions of a hangover, swearing, fluff, google translate, sorry if you don't like pizza. :(

notes: this was for our fictional boyfriend's birthday <3 wishing he was real.... :( also, i have no knowledge of the star wars movies so just fw it for me, yeah?

word count: 1.8k+ | p.p masterlist

─❀────❀────❀─

your day starts quite later than it usually does, at a loss of a good wink of sleep last night because of both the partying and the increasing nervousness for your date today.

purely by accident, you've slept in till 1pm, then realising he, peter, is supposedly meant to arrive in 4 hours. yet you don't have the energy to be bothered to look decent enough. you're hoping he wouldn't care; your friends and study buddies, anyway. and a striking dress isn't exactly fitting to watch star wars in.

you've come to learn with time that peter's a sweet guy, very innocent most of the time and truly cute when he stumbles over his words. the last time he actually did that was at your impromptu star-gazing incident, in which he caught you staring at him. it's not entirely your fault that his eyes sparkle and shine when he rambles about something he's so passionate about. heck, even if it's physics that you seem to loathe so badly.

it hits 2pm when you decide you want to shower, after drinking as much water as you can to recover from the hangover. then, the new change of clothes, only consisting of some sweatpants and a shirt, makes you feel far more better than you did in the morning.

from snacks to drinks, everything is set out on the table before peter arrives, who's expected to be here in twenty minutes. but all thoughts are cut out when you hear the doorbell.

already?

as you open the door, grin widening as you take in his angelic face, he's quick to say, "hey! um... i... like being early," ending with a smile that doesn't show his endearingly thin lips.

"it's fine, peter," you wave him off, "everything's ready, come in."

you bring out your hand to bring him in, instead noticing the two big bags─all of which are things that are clinking and rustling inside.

"shit. you didn't have to being so many things, pete," you moan, "you really didn't have to."

he's already entered your apartment once his face drops, sputtering, "i'm sorry, y/n please forgive me. but my aunt may took me to the store and also gave me the sex talk whilst we were at it and to be honest, i didn't want to hear it, let alone think of it in the first place. like- she was so explicit with a cucumber and an orange, i hated it. i mean it's just the first date and i don't want you to think that i'm here to─"

"─no, no, no- it's okay it's okay," you stop him, cheeks warming up at his predicament and the fact that he's rambling again. you try to hide it with a smirk anyway, "don't worry. i'm gonna make sure you're gonna eat this all with me."

ten minutes later, the opening of the force awakens is displayed on the tv, and peter has already had the pluck to go out of his own way to arrange everything in the kitchen and on the table-given he knows the inner workings of your little place.

the movie starts, everything is fine and you're really loving how peter already says an iconic line beforehand, in which he constantly apologises for. there's a moment where his hand grazes yours too when you reach in for the popcorn, and he flinches immediately at the touch.

"sorry, i've never watched a film with a girl before, apart from my aunt... and ned."

"stop saying sorry, pete, chill the fuck out," you urge, trying to ease the tension. it comes just before the two of you hear a really loud growl emerging from your stomach, and you look up at him in pure embarrassment, "uh... sorry."

"well, it looks like these snacks aren't good enough to satisfy you then," he counters before he looks around, then his eyes light up. "i have an idea. come with me."

peter switches the light on in the living room, then drags you to the kitchen with his hand clutched around yours. as soon as he starts getting flour, oil and yeast, you're left utterly confused seeing him dash in every corner of your already small kitchen.

"you're... cooking?" you ask him, realising that a guy is cooking for you—finding the gesture all the more precious than it is.

mj's right. it should happen more often. forget that, it should be normal.

he pipes up, "it helps when your roommates are lazy and you cook for them."

"pffft, you're calling me lazy?"

"you're literally hungry, y/n," he deadpans, "and besides, i wouldn't mind turning our date to teaching you how to make pizza instead."

now it's your turn for your eyes to light up. "count me in."

then, he opens the fridge, turning to ask you if you have passata. you say you don't, whereupon peter looks back in, searching for it again... for him to hold up the tomato puree tube in your face.

"passata is practically tomato puree, y/n," he chides, tone playful.

it's not long before he has all the ingredients in front of you both, with peter explaining the finer points of what's what. the view from the side of his face is kind of breathtaking too, and you note how his nose is a bit crooked at the bridge.

soon enough, he's enlightening you on how to properly work the dough, passing it to you many times in-between whilst he's off to the stove to make the sauce there.

in the middle of waiting for the dough to rise, and the sauce coming to a boil, you're standing side by side, thinking that you have nothing to talk about. you wait-until you grasp the fact that he seems really passionate about pizza, throwing in a couple of words like bellisimo along with a twinge of an accent whilst he's at it. given that, you genuinely implore, "how do you know about this so well, by the way?"

he perks up, playing with his fingers, "i told you: practice."

"but you keep on saying words that seem italian."

"did i not tell you?" you shake your head. "my aunt may's italian," the corners of peter's moth quirks up as he says it, "you'd be surprised how much she rants to me in italian still, and i can get confused at times but honestly, it's nice. and besides, pizza is only the good thing that is like... one of her strong points and it really hits home."

"can you speak it?"

"do you want me to?

turning around towards the counter, you place a fist under your chin and face him, "yes."

he stands up in front of you, turning off the heat when he's at it, and gestures for you to do the same.

after noticing him visibly gulping, he gazes into your eyes with every word that he gushes, "non c'è nessun altro con cui preferirei stare in questo momento."

without a second thought, peter takes your hand and kisses the back of it just as quickly as he picks it up. once he drops it, he sets both his hands behind his back, starting to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet.

it's safe to say that you really like him as you look at the sheepish look on his face. because without realising, you're mirroring his actions, with your hands behind your back too. you end up looking down, then back up at him, head tilted as you question, "okay, so what does that mean?"

his chest evidently expands to slower his accelerating heart beat, and exhales. "there isn't anyone else i would rather be with right now."

you pout then and there, feeling a sense of warmth encircling your insides-it's sweet, so so sweet that he makes you feel this way. upon that, you're given no choice but to pull him into a hug so close that you make sure to peck his cheek in the process.

soon after, you're back to preparing the dough and assembling it together. now, you're quick to observe after a while of him rolling it that the short-sleeved shirt isn't helping you peel away your eyes from his... bulging biceps.

"the gym is doing you great." you absentmindedly whisper.

although, had you known about his spidey senses, you wouldn't have said anything, nevermind blatantly stare. he ignores it, feeling more comfortable anyway with your presence in a much different aspect than he realises.

"and then you add the pesto..." he instructs, but his voice somehow tunes out in your brain-melodious in a sense that it gets you thinking: how does such a voice match so perfectly with their face?

"...y/n, are you listening? wait..." his cheeks deepen in the cutest reddish hue that has you smiling again.

he blushes a lot.

"y/n, really though. why do you have to look at me like that? it's making me weak, please stop."

"weak, huh? chef parker is weak and gets flustered when i stare at him," you tease, nudging your hip with his, "you're cute."

"you know you are too," he counters, "beautiful, actually."

you wave him off with a laugh. "stop. i know i am."

later on, you snack on some strawberries with him in the kitchen, waiting for the pizza to be done. and when it is, peter's prompt to getting it out-simply for your mouth to water at the mere aroma it gives off.

"wahey, you did a good job, pete," you compliment him.

"we did, yes," he corrects you, then you nod eagerly when he asks, "want a slice?"

feeling more sentimental and bold than ever, you take his free hand when you both bite into the pizza. it tastes far more better than it looks; not too much or less of anything. but most of all, it feels right that you're sharing it with him.

before your next bite, there's a little voice in your head screaming to kiss him. as a matter of fact, with much earnest, you do. as quick as you can ahead of his third bite.

his eyes widen at the contact, dropping the pizza in his plate. it takes a few moments for him to comprehend it before he takes hold of your hip instantly, catching your bottom lip with his own. you're glad it deepens as the second tick by, but it tickles slightly, making you both smile and alas-cutting the kiss short.

his eyes wrinkle in its corners as he scans your face, whispering, "didn't know pizza would taste better off of someone's lips... till now."

"we can try it more if you're willing to."

half way through finishing it and many kisses every now and again between, there's a knock that sounds the door.

"mj and ned," peter announces, "think they saw our pizza on instagram."

"you posted it on insta?"

"i only wanted to save it in my memories," he argues back, tone whining. instead, you shrug, warming up to his shoulder again, quite liking how it is now-no interruptions, just you and him basking in the sweet moment together.

"pete?"

"yeah?"

"tell 'em to fuck off."

─❀────❀────❀─

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagines #peter parker tom holland #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #tom holland #marvel #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #mcu #spiderman #peter parker au

[captain-apostrophe]

This amused me with the suitcase and I think I would be very happy to continue. [...] So if you throw me another 650 words as a sequel to this FF, I'll be happy like a flea.

(translation courtesy of google)

For JackieDecker, who asked for a sequel to Trade. I hope you like it!

(I know, this one jumped the queue, but you can’t just ignore inspiration, right?)

(also on ao3, if you prefer to read there)

[T; SangCheng; swapped luggage, established relationship]

- Return -

"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeellow?"

    Wanyin sighed.

    "Jesus Christ," he muttered.

    "I'm on vacation! Don't judge me!"

    "I judged you long ago. Look, I'm meant to be in a meeting in ten minutes so we have to make this quick."

    "Aw," Huaisang said, and Wanyin could hear him pouting. "You didn't call because you miss me?"

    "I saw you at the airport an hour ago, I'm not gonna miss you until at least lunch. You don't miss ME yet, do you?"

    "Well, not really, but... you could be more romantic about it."

    "Mmhmm, well, I'll be romantic when I'm not stressed," Wanyin said, and then hurried on before Huaisang could point out that he was always stressed. "I need you to tell me which bag you took."

    "Hmm?"

    "From the airport."

    "Oh, the one with the blue tag - 'blue's not for you!'," Huaisang repeated, singing the rhyme they'd made up so he'd remember that the suitcase with the blue tag was Wanyin's. Wanyin waited for him to remember that part. "... oh, mine was the yellow one, wasn't it."

    "Yeah, babe, yours is the one with the yellow tag. Yeah."

    It was his own fault, really. He should have known that they were asking for trouble, bringing matching suitcases on this trip. Normally it didn't matter - normally it was great, because their old paisley suitcases really were very distinctive.

    At least they weren't further apart - if they'd swapped and then ended up in different cities, on different continents, he would've been dealing with a lot more than just a tension headache. But when Wanyin had been booked for a week of conferences in the same city where he'd met his boyfriend three years earlier, it had seemed obvious that they should take the opportunity for a vacation together. And when he'd proposed that, it had seemed obvious to Huaisang that his vacation should start a week before Wanyin's did.

    "Think about it this way," Huaisang had explained, in the tone he used when he thought he was actually being generous. "By the time you join me I'll know where all the best places are to eat and shop. And I'll be so relaxed that I can just focus on helping you relax!"

       "Look," Wanyin said, now. "I'm in meetings until four, but then I can come swap bags."

    "Nooooo," Huaisang whined. "I'm over here vacationing like I'm single! Don't contaminate it!"

    "Just leave your door unlocked or something! I'll sneak in, you won't even know I was there."

    Huaisang grumbled; if Wanyin didn't know him better he'd have taken it personally. He knew this act, though.

    "Just don't touch my stuff," he added, trying to sound casual. "You'll wrinkle all my -"

    Huaisang squeaked. Wanyin's heart sank.

    "- are you already going through my stuff?"

    "Obviously," Huaisang said, sounding strangled. "I just wanted to see what underwear you packed!"

    "Jesus fucking Christ," Wanyin muttered, again, but he wasn't mad, he was just...

    Well, he was nervous.

    "So um. You... want me to pretend I didn't see anything?"

    "Are you gonna be able to do that?"

    "... no."

    At least Huaisang wasn't actually pretending not to have seen anything. That would have been a bad sign.

    "Can you give me an hour to fake a migraine and come do this in person?"

    Huaisang giggled again - but he sounded nervous, too.

    "Yes," he said. "Yeah, okay. Um. The convenience store where we met?"

    He'd had big plans. There was a fancy restaurant booked for after he joined Huaisang on vacation, and a nicer hotel room, and (because, well, he knew what Huaisang liked) the underwear that made his ass look amazing.

    But when he tried to imagine the two of them back at the convenience store, Huaisang somehow already a bit sunburned and himself kneeling on the cracked pavement with the velvet ring box in his hands... he couldn't think of anything more fitting.

    "Okay," he said. "It's a date."

#prompt fill #fic-iversary prompts #the untamed #fanfic #sangcheng #swapped luggage #established relationship #cap' writes

[olivia-ivy]

I don't have the motivation to make this a full fic, so you all get

The Field Trip Fic (Abridged)

Okay, we all know how the typical field trip fic goes right? Peter has a field trip to Stark Industries and Tony is the typical embarrassing mentor/dad.

This isn't that.

First of all, Peter checks with May and she says she'll be sure to take time off work so she can be a chaperone for the field trip. Except, uh oh, someone calls out on the day of the field trip and May has to cover for them, which means she can't chaperone, and since she can't be there, the chaperone:kid ratio isn't enough so now the field trip is kind of stalled.

Flash and even a few other kids on the bus are like "Nice going, Parker," and Peter is trying to just disappear into the seat, when suddenly there's a commotion outside the bus.

Everyone crowds to the side where shit is happening, and who should appear but Tony Fucking Stark, riding in on a silver chariot/Audi. All the adults are bewildered. All the kids go slack jawed. All the Peter Parkers are trying even harder to be absorbed by the green vinyl seats.

Mr. Harrington is the one who speaks up like "Um ... Can I help you sir?"

Tony: "Yeah, May Parker asked me to chaperone the field trip since she can't make it."

23 teenagers simultaneously get whiplash as they whip around to stare at Peter Parker, who now has his hood up over his head and the drawstrings pulled closed.

Peter, muttering: "I told you I wasn't lying about the internship."

Nobody ever doubts a word Peter says from then until graduation. Flash looks like he's revaluating his entire life.

Meanwhile, back outside the bus, all of the adults are in similar states of shock, but also it's the MCU, they've dealt with alien attacks and flying cities, Iron Man chaperoning a field trip with them should not be the weirdest thing.

((Idk how New York works, but in Mass, if anyone outside the school wants to chaperone a field trip, they need to fill out something called a CORI form, it's basically a criminal record background check, and I'm gonna assume NY has something similar))

One of the teachers eventually speaks up and is like "Well we'd be honored Mr Stark, but we have certain forms that need to be filled out-"

And Tony just reaches into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out the form and hands it to a teacher. The teacher unfolds it and holds it up to the others (and inadvertently angles it so all the kids on the bus can see it too) and across the entire form in big Sharpie they see "GOOGLE ME" or "I'M LITERALLY IRON MAN" or "YOU KNOW WHO I AM"

And yeah, they do know who he is, but the office still needs the form. Tony let's them squirm for a minute, then reaches back into the same pocket and pulls out another copy of the form, this time properly filled out (courtesy of Pepper). The teachers look relieved and one of them rushes inside to get it to the office, while all the others pile on the bus. The field trip is back on.

All the kids are trying not to stare at Tony, which goes about as well as you'd imagine, and Peter is just mentally projecting 'Don't sit near me, don't look at me, don't talk to me, you're the worst, I hate you.'

So naturally, Tony sits in the seat in front of Peter.

"Hey kid!"

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

Peter groans and slams his head into the seat. Bc he knows Tony is gonna do something to embarrass him, hell he already has, people are still staring.

Tony: "Oh come on, this is the thanks I get for saving the class field trip? Where are we going anyway? MoMA, the Met, the zoo...?"

And this, ladies, gentlemen, and those too cool for the gender binary, is where it really deviates from the regular field trip fic format:

Peter: "Oscorp Headquarters."

You could practically hear every muscle in Tony's body tense up.

Tony: "Oscorp ... Didn't you have a field trip there last year?"

Translation: ISN'T THAT THE PLACE WHERE YOU GOT BITTEN BY A RADIOACTIVE SPIDER

Peter: "Yeah, but they donate a lot of money to the school and a lot of our graduates are interns there, so we have field trips there a lot."

Translation: Yeah, but it was either this, or sit in Spanish class all day, soooo

And it's not that Tony isn't allowed in Oscorp's tower (which started construction a few months after Stark Tower and is exactly one floor higher, and Pepper wouldn't let him add more floors to his tower bc "You are not using company money for a literal dick measuring contest, Tony"), it's just that it would look bad if he was seen in there and Pepper would have strongly discouraged it if she didn't think Peter being around would give him enough self-control to not cause a scene. (Pepper Potts is rarely wrong about things. This is one of the few times she was wrong about things.)

The tour starts and Tony is just rolling his eyes and making jokes about everything to Peter, partly bc it's Oscorp and everything he's saying is either true or deserved, partly bc the spider bite wasn't exactly a fun experience for Peter and Tony is trying to stave off a panic attack.

It's working. He's a good dad/mentor.

By the time lunch rolls around and the class is eating in the Oscorp cafeteria, the kids are more or less acclimated to Tony's presence. That goes away, however, the second Norman Osborn walks in.

And sure, Osborn says he wanted to personally visit the Midtown tour group, and sure, he and Tony shook hands and they're making small talk like civilized human beings, but the teenagers can smell a drop of drama from a mile away, and everyone is livestreaming the entire thing.

Things quickly devolve into a fight.

Some highlights: Norman accuses Tony of spying. Tony responds with "It's not corporate espionage, Norman, it's a field trip." That gets GIFed and is the new reaction meme by the end of the day.

Norman gets all huffy, and says "How can I be sure you're not trying to steal Oscorp's research?!"

Tony: "Well, first of all, Oscorp would have to have something worth stealing."

The kids all lose it.

Tony Stark is escorted from the building.

Which puts them back in the same chaperone predicament they had at the beginning of the day, but now all the kids are revolting, so they leave with Tony and the other chaperones just follow them instead of trying to negotiate with Oscorp security.

The bus driver takes them to Central Park for the rest of the day and the kids hang out on the rocks trying to process the absolute savagery they just witnessed. Pepper Potts is on the phone trying to manage SI's response. Tony Stark and Peter Parker are sitting next to each other, laughing their asses off.

Tony: "So, good field trip?"

Peter: "Way better than last year."

The next year, Stark Industries makes a generous donation to Midtown Tech. A donation that is exactly one dollar more than what Oscorp gave.

#olivia-ivy writes #iron dad #field trip fic #but different #this is what happens in writers' brains before we drink the Good Word Juice and make gooder words happen #peter parker #tony stark #norman osborn #long post

[quarra]

Ficlet Challenge Prompt

Yo. Tagging these folks again for PART FOUR: @kat-atomic @tinybearswithjetpacks , @brooklynbetty, @mariastill    plus @colorcoated01 and @needmorefiction because they seemed interested.

So enough people said they wanted more Spell-Slothed-Steve that I wrote up some more. Not a lot of free time today, it’s...it’s been a day. But here we go. Maybe tonight I’ll get enough time to write another part.  In any case, stuff is under the read line again. Tags for Natasha being a badass?

Part one Part two Part three

--

Six days after the Sloth spell was cast on Steve, the magician who cast it woke up.

Natasha look critically at his wrecked form where he lay in the local Shield prison medical ward. The magician had several broken bones, a concussion, two puncture wounds courtesy of Clint’s arrows, and a great deal of bruising.

She made sure that the first thing he saw when he woke up was her smiling at him. Clint was there for moral support, but he was just there to watch. They both knew interrogations were her show.

“Oh shit,” was the first thing out of the magician’s mouth. Natasha smiled wider. He shifted backwards in his bed, and then realized he couldn’t shift backwards without severely hurting himself. It was kind of hilarious to watch him try not to flail. Eventually he settled and gave another, more resigned, “Oh shit.”

“Tell me about magic,” Natasha said.

He blinked at her, and glared. “It is beyond your ability to grasp. Your tiny mind cannot---” Natasha fired up her Widow’s Bite bracelet. “SHIT, I donno dudes, I just found a book at a junk store and read some stuff out of it. Don’t taze me, bro.” His eyes widened and he pursed his lips.

Clint smothered a snicker under one hand. Natasha held back a wince. That…that didn’t bode well.

She didn’t let it interfere with the interrogation though.

“Where can I get this book?” Natasha smiled sweetly. “Tell me what I need to know and we’ll be out of your hair. No muss, no fuss.”

The magician’s brow crinkled in annoyance, or as much as it could with all the bruising. “Ironman blew it the fuck up with his blaster things.”

“Are their copies?”

The annoyance deepened. “I mean, maybe? But hell if I know where to get one. Thing was hand written. I found it in a stack of fantasy novels and old school journals.”

Chasing down old books wasn’t really her specialty. They might have to call in Strange for this, or maybe one of the other local casters. Natasha was hoping to avoid that. Every single one of them was generally more trouble than they were worth to work with.

Time for a change of tactic.

“You were casting curses.”

“Yeah?”

“How do we break them?”

The magician looked nervously to the side for a moment. He was about to lie. “Um. True love’s kiss.”

Doubtful. As far as she knew, Barnes and Steve had been making out like teenagers for the past three days, in between bouts of Barnes screaming in frustration. If those two weren’t True Love, it didn’t exist.

“Try again.” Natasha fired up the electricity on her bracelet.

“Shit. Um. I mean. The cursed person has to sit in a magic circle and let pure blessed water flow over them for nine hours.” More blinking. Shifty eye movements. Rapid heart rate.

More lies.

She pouted at him and sat on the edge of his bed.

“Please tell me?”

He gulped, hard.

“Go to the place where the curse was cast, spin in place counter clockwise three times, and say the words of the curse in reverse.” He was sweating now, practically panting with fear.

“Dude,” Clint said. “We’re talking about magic, not how you get rid of bad luck from saying Macbeth in a theater.”

Natasha smiled, slow and sweet, and let him see her teeth.

He shrank into himself. “You just have to try really hard and believe in yourself?” he said very timidly.

Just as Natasha was reaching out to touch him, he broke.

“Fuck! I don’t know, I don’t know! Okay! I swear! Just back off!” He tried to wriggle away from her, but the various casts, bandages, and tubes stalled his efforts.

“How do you not know?” Natasha dropped the smile. “Isn’t that something you’re book would say?”

She hoped.

“Look lady, I could barely read the damn thing. I took a couple of the more repeated words out of there, sounded them out, and just sort of…added stuff. Google translated some Latin to make it sound cool. I swear. I didn’t even try to do anything deadly. I just wanted a quick payday and this was my way to get there, you know?”

His eyes held steady, if overly wide. Heart was steady. Slumped frame. There was some sweating and trembling, but that could be fear attributed.

Probably telling the truth, then. Depressingly, it also fit with the rest of this guy’s personality and general MO.

Fuck.

She mulled the problem over as they headed back to the tower.

“Detour,” she said to Clint.

“Where to?” He turned towards the direction she was pointing.

“Liquor store. We need vodka.

Clint furrowed his brow. “Why? Is blessed alcohol a thing? Would that even work in this case? And who would we get to bless it?”

Natasha sighed.

“It’s not for Steve. It’s for Bucky. He’s is gonna wanna get plastered after he hears the news. I consider it first aid.”

Clint laughed and kept driving.

--

To be continued...

#ficlet #ficlet challenge #Sloth #Sloth Part Four #Might as well keep going with this #We gotta get Steve off the couch #Next time I'll harass Bucky some more #because I'm eeeeeeevil #and also it's been a long week #and the sass makes me laugh

[trashfics]

Foxgloves ://: Chapter 4

Summary: Y/N was content living a normal life. Well, as normal as her life could be with the power to stun and cause death (in extreme conditions) with just a touch of her hand. Let’s just say gloves are a girl’s best friend, not diamonds. When the Winter Soldier surfaced, she was called in by Director Nick Fury to assist Captain America in fighting against a corrupt SHIELD. To the world, she is known as Foxgloves, the girl with poisons touch. To her team, she’s a mystery, coming out of nowhere, with her amazing combat skills and poisonous touch, to be recruited into their little group of super humans. Nobody knew of her origin, until Helmut Zemo’s plans consist of more than exposing the Winter Soldier as Howard and Martha Stark’s killer. Warnings: Mild cursing, CA: Civil War Spoilers, Mentions of Human Experimentation, Violence and Gore A/N: I used Google Translate for the Russian bits, therefore I apologize if they aren’t grammatically correct. I also apologize for this being a shorter chapter, but I’m currently sick and its finals month so I’m trying my best to get better, which means a lot of sleep and cold medicine. Word Count: 2,200k+ Last Chapter: [X] {“Get up.” He commands, in his semi-captain voice. Grabbing him by the collar, Steve slams him against the wall. “Who are you? What do you want?” He questions. “To see an empire fall.”}

Sam and I enter the room, the whirring of James’ robotic arm catching me off guard as he punches the wall, barely missing us. Sam springs into action, punching the Winter Soldier in the chest, but he is shortly thrown across the room. I dodge an attack as I make my way over to Sam, Steve lunging for his former best friend.

“C’mon buddy,” I say as I check Sam’s pulse, “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bacey.” I hear metal breaking, followed by a clang. Sam opens his eyes, obviously dazed, and tries to sit up, looking out the door. “Hey.” He calls, stopping the ‘psychologist’. He picks himself up and chases after the fleeing man with me trailing behind.

We run down the hallway and up the stair well. ‘With the amount of running we’re doing today, I won’t have to hit the gym for weeks.’ I think, taking the steps two at a time. We make it back to the main area and split up. “You take the right side of the building and I’ll take the left, got it?” asks Sam, searching around for the short haired man. I just nod and take off towards the sound of fighting.

I spot a passed-out soldier in an eating area, ‘James probably’, and make my way. All of the sudden there’s a sharp ringing in my ear, causing me to lose my balance and crash into the wall, knocking myself out.

Flashback.

I’m lying on the floor, blood dripping into my eye. “Vstavay.” (Get up) commands the instructor as I am kicked in the side. Forcing myself onto my knees I look up at the middle-aged man, creases littering his forehead and eyes.  I stand up, getting back into a fighting stance. It had been a few years since I was injected with the DNAs of various species, leaving me poisonous to the touch.  “Yeshche raz.” (Again) barks the man.

I lunge at the lean boy standing in front of me, tackling him onto the floor. He trashes around underneath me, trying to knock me off, but I grab his throat and squeeze. His attempts to knock me off him weaken, causing me to let go. Thinking I won, I stand up and begin to walk away.  That was my mistake. With a growl, the boy jumps up and tackles me onto the ground. He smashes my head into the cold concrete and flips me over. His cat-like eyes startle me as he drags a clawed finger down the side of my arm. Red is all I can see now due to the gash on my head. I attempt to knock him off balance by butting my head with his, but it only fuels his anger.

A single claw pierces my throat and begins sliding in a horizontal line. I close my eyes, awaiting my impending death. My breath begins to become shallow as the boy is ripped off me. There is shouting in Russian as I am picked up and a gunshot rings throughout the room. The boy’s body thuds onto the floor, blood flowing out of the hole in his head. I am rushed to the medical room, where my cuts are cleaned and bandaged, the ones on my arm and throat needing stitches. “Polozhi yeye.” (Put her under) demands the instructor with no protests from the medical staff. A doctor comes up to me and sticks an IV in my arm, leading me into state of unconsciousness.

Flashback Ends.

Coming back to reality, I groan at the sight of sunlight. Placing a gloved hand over my eyes, I sit up and take in my surroundings. “Morning sleeping beauty.” I turn my head and see Sam with a dumb smile on his face. “Where are we?”

“Some abandoned metal factory,” Says Sam as he helps me stand, “You took a pretty nasty fall.” I grunt as I touch my forehead, feeling an angry bump. “Don’t remind me.” He leaves soon after I get adjusted, something about checking if someone is awake. I walk around, finding Steve looking out a small crack in the wall. I walk up behind him and look out, seeing a helicopter not too far away.

“Hey, Cap!” calls Sam, causing Steve to turn his head. He notices me and motions for me to follow. We make our way towards the hunched over figure of James, his left arm trapped under a hydraulic press. He groans as he tries to sit up. “Steve.” He croaks, making my heart ache.

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” questions Steve as he looks at the damaged man. There’s a moment of silence before Bucky speaks. “Your mom’s name was Sarah.” He pauses, thinking about something else. “You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.” He chuckles. I snort a little, smiling.

“Can’t read that in a museum.” Confirms Steve, Sam glancing at him nervously. “Just like that, we’re supposed to be cool?” I give him a look, causing him to shut his mouth. “What did I do?” asks James, his hair falling into his eyes. “Um, enough.” I mumble, causing him to sigh.

“Oh, God, I knew this would happen. Everything HYDRA put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words.” “Who was he?” Steve cuts him off before he can put himself down any farther. “I don’t know.” admits James.

“People are dead. The bombing, the setup, the doctor did all that just to get ten minutes with you. I need you to do better than ‘I don’t know.’” Chastises Steve, making James thinks back to the evaluation, what the psychologist asked after the power went out. “He wanted to know about Siberia.” He pauses, before stating, “Where I was kept.”

My breath hitches as I think back to the freezing cold environment and facility. “He wanted to know exactly where.” “Why would he need to know that?” I step in, butterflies filling my stomach. “Because I’m not the only Winter Soldier.” Says James, making eye contact with Steve.

“Who were they?” Steve is now leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, in my opinion he looks like he’s posing for a photo shoot. “Their most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history. And that was before the serum.” Informs James, probably being brought back to his time with HYDRA.

“They all turn out like you?” Asks Sam, causing me to elbow him in the side. “Worse.” States James. “The doctor, could he control them?” “Enough.” Steve looks over at Sam and I, “Said he wanted to see an empire fall.” “With these guys, he could do it.” Chimes James, “They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize. They can take a whole country down in one night, you’d never see them coming.”

Sam walks over to Steve and they start talking. I find a dirty cloth and dust it off, walking over to James. “Hey,” I say gaining his attention, “mind if I clean you up a bit?” He looks over my face and nod. I squat down in front of him and begin to scrub away the dried blood.

“Why do you wear gloves all the time?” He asks. “I mean, whenever I see you, you always have gloves.” I nod, pushing his hair back. “You’re not wrong, but you’ll find out why I wear them in due time.” And with that, I get up and walk over to the boys. “’We’re on our own.” Says Steve, the two were probably trying to think up a plan. “Maybe not.” Reassures Sam, “I know a guy.”

We soon find ourselves packed into a clown car, courtesy of Sam’s friend, on our way to meet up with Sharon. We pull up to the meeting point and park. “Not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car.” States Sharon, judging the blue beetle as Steve walks over to her. “It’s low profile.” “Good, because this stuff tends to draw a crowd.” Say Sharon, opening the trunk of the black Audi.

“Can you move your seat up?” asks a cramped James from his spot next to me. “No.” denies Sam, the testosterone in the air is suffocating. “Please Sam?” I ask, giving him my puppy dog eyes in the rear-view mirror. “Sorry, princess.” Says Sam, smirking because he knows how ticked I get when he calls me that. James just grumbles something and moves over, picking up my legs and putting them over his lap so that I’m not pushed into the door.

We all watch Steve and Sharon, the tension thick between the two. ‘Just make a move, dammit.’ Steve steps forward, hesitating a little before pulling Sharon into a kiss. “Finally!” I say, everyone in the car smiling. I laugh as Steve looks back, James and Sam are just nodding their heads with a goofy grin on their faces.

Steve makes a few phones calls and then we’re on our way to meet up with Clint. We pull into a parking garage, stopping next to a white van. Clint is there waiting for us, with Wanda in tow.  “Cap.” He greets as Steve walks over to him. I go over to Wanda, pulling her into a hug. “Moy tsvetok” (My flower) I say, giving her a gentle squeeze before pulling away.

“Thanks for having my back.” Steve says, looking at Wanda. “It was time to get off my ass.” Admits Wanda. “How about our other recruit?” Clint walks to the door of the van. “He’s rarin’ to go.” He slides the door open, revealing the sleeping form of a man. “Had to put a little coffee in him,” he slams the door, causing the man to wake up, “but he should be good.”

Sam stands next to Steve, crossing his arms, as the mystery man gets up. “What time zone is this?” Clint doesn’t reply, just urges him forward. The man is obviously star struck when he sees Steve, stumbling over his words. “Captain America!” Steve shakes his hand, “Mr. Lang” The hand shake goes on a little longer, well longer than an average hand shake. “It’s an honour.” He looks down, “I’m shaking your hand too long.” I snort, thinking ‘I’m gonna like this guy.’

“Wow, this is awesome!” states ‘Mr. Lang’ as he turns to look at Wanda. “I know you, too. You’re great!” he says, causing Wanda to smile. I walk over to where James is standing, sending him a nod as the others talk. “We should get moving, guys.” I speak up, looking at the position of the sun. “We got a chopper lined up.” Informs Clint. A man begins talking on the PA, saying something in German. “They’re evacuating the airport.” Translates James, uncrossing his arms and looking at me.

“Stark.” Confirms Sam, ‘Mr. Lang’ is obviously confused. “Stark?” Steve just looks at the rest of us and says, “Suit up.” We all change into our outfits and make our way to the tarmac. We are given our objectives and spilt up, James and Sam with me and everyone else with Steve.

Steve runs over to the helicopter, stopping when it’s shot with a device that emits an electric shock. Tony and Rhodey fly down, landing in front of Steve. “Wow, it’s so weird how you run into people at the airport.” Tony’s mask retracts as he looks at Rhodey, “Don’t you think that’s weird?” “Definitely weird.” “Hear me out, Tony.” Begins Steve, “That doctor, the psychiatrist, he’s behind all of this.”

T’challa jumps down, “Captain.” Steve nods at him, “Your Highness.” “Anyway,” starts Tony as he walks around Rhodey, “Ross gave me thirty-six hours to bring you in. That was twenty-four hours ago. Can you help a brother out?” “You’re after the wrong guy.” I watch from out of a window in the airport, James and Sam searching for the quinjet behind me. I look down at my suit, double-checking that all of my weapons are in their respective places. Knives on both of my hips, guns holstered on my thighs, my mini knife, that Natasha gave me, sheathed in my right boot, two mini-pistols on my lower back, and a few gadgets that Tony made for me stored on my belt.

When I look back down at my friends, I see that Natasha has joined them. “Do you really wanna punch your way out of this one?” she asks, giving Steve time to reconsider his plan. Sadly, like me, he is too stubborn to back down. “All right, I’ve run out of patience. Underoos!” I raise an eyebrow at Tony’s exclimation as Steve’s shield is snatched by, what looks to be, a spider web and his hands are bound together.

Someone in a red and blue suit flips onto the top of a truck, the red, white, and blue shield in their hand. ‘Did Tony hire an acrobat or something?’ “Nice job, kid.” “Thanks” the mystery person’s voice cracks, ‘okay so he hired a teen acrobat,’ “I could have stuck the landing a little better, it’s just new suit.” He says before backtracking, “It’s nothing, Mr. Stark. It’s perfect, Thank you.” “Yeah, we don’t really need to start a conversation.” Says Tony, cutting the boy off before he can make it anymore awkward.

Ah, I love newbies. They’re so innocent and don’t know what to do, it’s cute really. “You’ve been busy.” Notes Steve, causing Tony to snap at him. “And you’ve been a complete idiot. Dragging in Clint, ‘Rescuing’ Wanda from a place she doesn’t even want to leave, a safe place. I’m trying to keep,” he sighs before beginning again.

“I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.” Admits Tony, his voice breaking a little towards the end. Steve just looks at him before saying, “You did that when you signed.”

Tag List: @cassandras-musings

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #winter solider x reader #winter soldier imagine #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #ca:cw #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x female reader #winter soldier x female reader

[randomredneck]

Language of Love(Ing You)

This quite adorable idea courtesy of user tentaky. And written up by mediocre old me. I hope you enjoy.

...Also, I don’t speak a lick of German, so any German you see was acquired from Google Translate.

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

“Guten Tag...tog? Come on, you’ve been studying these tapes for 2 weeks! You should know how to say ‘Hello’ by now. Ugh!”

Marceline flopped back in the air, rubbing her temples in annoyance.

“I’m over 1000 years old and can speak the forbidden tongue of ancient evil, but I can’t get this.”

For the past couple of weeks, Marceline had been busying herself with something in her spare time. Namely, learning a new language.

“This is what I get. For Glob’s sake, I dug these things out of an Earclops den. I’m surprised they even work. Whatever. Woman up, Marcy! You can totally do this. Besides, it’s not like she’s coming over tonight or anything.”

A knock at the door suddenly brought her back to reality. And the note on her calendar.

“Crud, she is coming over tonight! How could I space on that!? I’m not even wearing pants!”

Quickly digging out a pair of semi-clean pants, she bolted for the door.

“Okay, just try and insert it naturally into conversation.”

She swung the door open, a slightly depressed looking Bubblegum standing there.

“Hey, Marcy. Thanks for inviting me over...um...your barn door is open there, cowgirl.”

Glancing down, she quickly zipped her fly and ushered her buddy inside.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before anyway, sweetness. Anyway, I got our little movie night all planned out. Just you and me, chilling like we do. First on the agenda is...”

PB flopped down on the couch, barely registering it was hard as a rock.

“...is Bloodsuckers From Planet R...what, no witty line bout how it’s puerile or something?”

Bonnie glanced up, almost looking like she didn’t hear her.

“What? Oh, right. Yeah it’s...dumb. Let’s watch.”

That wouldn’t do.

“Bubs, are you alright? Is it cause Finn is gone? I miss the little guy too, but you can’t be down til he gets back.”

She pulled the hood of her jacket up.

“Whatever.”

This required the big guns.

“Bonnie...um..you look very...recht...tonight.”

That got her attention.

“And such a...Wunderbar...person, shouldn’t be so down.”

She sat down beside her, throwing an arm around her shoulder.

“Especially when someone who...Liebe’s...you is there to help you during those sad times.”

She pulled her hood down.

“My citizens are terrified of me, Finn and Jake are on a possible suicide mission, my kingdom is in shambles, I have these weird powers, and you think some basic German is going to make me feel better?”

Marceline looked rather dejected...until Bonnie wrapped her in a thankful hug.

“Cause it does. Even if it’s a little gesture like that, I just needed something to lift my spirits lately. Everything is so donked lately. But it’s nice to know you’re there for me. And vice-versa.”

Marceline planted a little kiss on her head.

“Alright, don’t get all mushy on me now...so, what did you think by the way? Pretty fluent, right?”

PB sat up.

“Honestly? It’s pretty terrible. But it’s still sweet, anyway. Who knows. Maybe I can give you a lesson sometime. But until then, let’s watch a puerile movie together.”

She snuggled up to her, Marceline flicking the TV on.

“There’s my girl.”

#Adventure Time #bubbline #princess bubblegum #marceline #marceline the vampire queen #fanfic

[smartworkingpackage]

Podcast: Taking Note of Radical Candor with Kim Scott

Feedback is hard. Giving it, receiving it, absorbing it, acting on it — all of these things require openness and a willingness to communicate honestly.

But whether we’re talking about our personal relationships, our professional lives, or society itself, dealing with feedback is essential if we want to meet our goals, grow, and improve.

In Episode 3 of our new podcast, we look at feedback in two forms. First, we chat with Gerald Hastie, Evernote’s Director of Customer Experience, to learn more about how Evernote’s customer support and Help Center are working to address feedback from the public. Then we sit down with Kim Scott, author of the new book Radical Candor: Be a Kickass Boss without Losing your Humanity, to learn how building a culture of candor at work can help us all become more effective in whatever we do.

Listen now:

Length: 40 minutes iTunes | SoundCloud | Google Play | MP3 | RSS

Highlights of our conversation with Kim Scott are transcribed below. To hear the complete interview and subscribe to future episodes of “Taking Note,” head over to iTunes, SoundCloud, or Google Play.

You’ve talked about the universality of some of the issues that you see [working with CEOs]. What are some of the things that come up most frequently?

I think one of the things that people struggle with most is how to create a culture of feedback. Part of the problem is that you know as a manager that you’re supposed to give feedback. That’s very nerve-wracking, for two reasons. From the time most of us learn to speak, we had one or two parents who told us some version of “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all.” We’ve been trained since we were 18 months old not to give feedback and now all of a sudden it’s your job to do it.

We’ve been trained since we were 18 months old not to give feedback and now all of a sudden it’s your job to do it.

I think the other part of the problem is that around the time we’re 18 years old, we get told be “professional.” For too many people that gets translated to mean leave all of your vulnerabilities, leave all of your emotions, leave your humanity, the very best part of yourself, at home and come to work like some kind of robot.

Both of those factors combine to make giving feedback really hard. They also combine to make leaders forget that they’re actually supposed to solicit it before they start giving it. Don’t dish it out until you prove you can take it.

I know your work with Sheryl Sandberg, when she was with Google, was key to the development of your approach and your thinking in these terms. What’s the story there?

Shortly after I joined Google, I had to give a presentation to the CEO and the founders about the AdSense business. When I walked into the presentation, I felt a little nervous like any normal person would in that situation. The good news, however, was that the business was on fire. When I said how many new customers we had added over the last month or so, Eric Schmidt, the CEO, sort of jerked his head up out of his computer and said, “What did you say? What resources do you need to keep this business miracle alive? Do you need more engineers? Do you need marketing dollars?” I felt like the meeting had gone pretty well. In fact, I felt like a genius.

As I was leaving the meeting, I passed by Sheryl Sandberg, my boss, and I was expecting a high-five or some sort of congrats. Instead, she said, “Why don’t you walk back to my office with me?” I thought, oh boy, I did something wrong. I’m sure I’m about to hear about it.

The really good news was that there was a lot of good news. Sheryl started with that. But, she said eventually, “You know, you said ‘um’ a lot in there. Were you aware of it?” At this point, I breathed a huge sigh of relief and I made a brush off gesture with my hand. I said, “I know; it’s a verbal tic, it’s no big deal.” Sheryl said, “I know a really good speech coach and Google would pay for it. Would you like an introduction?” I made the brush off gesture with my hand again. I said, “No, I’m busy. Didn’t you hear about all these new customers?”

At this point, Sheryl stopped in her tracks and she looked me in the eye and she said, “I’m going have to be a lot more direct with you. When you say ‘um’ every third word, it makes you sound stupid.”

Now, a lot of people would have said that it was mean of Sheryl to say that I sounded stupid, but in fact, it was the very kindest thing she could have done for me. It was what she had to do in order to get through to me. The reason why it was such a kindness was that when I went to see the speech coach, I learned that she really wasn’t exaggerating. I literally did say ‘um’ every third word.

The thing that struck me in that moment was that nobody had told me that I had this problem. It was like I had been going through my whole career with a giant hunk of spinach between my teeth and nobody had had the courtesy to tell me about it. Once Sheryl told me about it, I could fix it.

Now we’re getting into the concept of Radical Candor, that notion of caring personally and challenging directly. We hear a lot of talk about constructive criticism, but ‘constructive’ is a very cold word. I think when you talk about caring personally, that makes it a bit more immediate. Is there a difference between constructive criticism and Radical Candor?

Yes. I’m really glad you raised the question of constructive criticism because it’s a bugaboo of mine. One of the problems with the term ‘constructive criticism’ is that it implies that you can control how the other person reacts to what you say.

There’s a big difference between Radical Candor and obnoxious aggression.

The big difference between Radical Candor and constructive criticism is that Radical Candor, first of all, applies to both praise and criticism, and caring personally is about acknowledging the other person as an independent human being. If they do get upset, it’s about reacting to that upset with compassion, not imagining that if you just found the right words they wouldn’t get upset. Again, Radical Candor is caring personally and challenging directly at the same time. There’s a big difference between Radical Candor and obnoxious aggression.

There’s a very simple and direct visualization of this that you use a lot where Radical Candor is one quadrant of a graph. Could you walk us through those four quadrants? It explains what happens when you have both the caring personally and challenging directly when you lack one or the other and when you have neither.

When you care personally and challenge directly, that’s Radical Candor. When you challenge directly but fail to show that you care personally, that’s obnoxious aggression. When you care personally but you fail to challenge directly, that’s ruinous empathy, and when you fail on both dimensions, which we all do from time to time, it’s what I call manipulative insincerity.

When we get so busy or so stressed or so reactive that we fail to show that we care personally and don’t bother to challenge directly, that’s where really insidious behavior, political behavior, office politics comes in, passive aggressive behavior.

These are strong words: “ruinous” and “obnoxious” and “manipulative,” but you’re not kidding. There are real implications to failing to achieve Radical Candor, right? What are some of the things that happen to organizations which miss the mark?

The most common mistake that I see made in organizations is ruinous empathy where people really do care about one another; they don’t want to hurt each other’s feelings. Therefore, when somebody makes a mistake, when work isn’t nearly good enough, they fail to say so. Also, when they offer praise to people, they offer praise in a way that is aimed at bolstering their ego or just making them feel better as opposed to showing what was really genuinely great.

In those cultures of ruinous empathy, people don’t do the best work of their lives. It’s impossible for a person to see in the moment when they’re making a mistake. We rely on each other to show us when we’re making a mistake. When we don’t provide that service to one another, then we don’t do our best work. It’s a shame. It’s a lost opportunity.

Part of the reason why I named each of these quadrants so flamboyantly is to provide a really strong warning about what happens. You don’t want to ruin your people. I think one of the things that I have found in my coaching that really helps people is to think of your [own] story. What’s a time in your career when you had a boss who told you something that really helped you improve?

It’s not just about dealing with problems; it’s about preventing problems. I can see how there could be implications in this, not just in terms of how people are performing but also how a team works together, their productivity or their creativity or their happiness in the workplace. Is that true?

Absolutely. When a team of people feels that they can’t tell each other when something’s going wrong, that they can’t say this pixel is not right or this presentation is not right or your idea doesn’t feel quite right, when they repress all that, meetings start to feel like getting stuck in traffic. There’s the meeting before the meeting and the meeting after the meeting. When problems don’t get fixed, life is depressing. Let’s make new mistakes. Let’s really try to make things better. Let’s fix the old mistakes and make new ones together.

I think that’s also when we start to see offices devolve into politics and passive-aggressive situations.

It’s also important to realize very often what happens in office situations or just in any human relationship, really, is somebody will cross the line and be a jerk and then the advice that they get is instead of moving up on the “care personally” dimension, they just back off their challenge. This happens all the time, the false apology. It’s happened to me. I’m sure it’s happened to you.

It seems safer just to remain silent, but it’s not safe. It’s depressing.

If you can force yourself not to back off your challenge when you realize you’ve been a jerk, but instead to react with compassion to the other person’s emotions, then I think we can avoid the passive-aggressive kind of behavior. It seems safer just to remain silent, but it’s not safe. It’s depressing.

Do you find anyone takes to this naturally? Are there certain personality types that are more responsive to it?

I think that for the vast majority of people it’s hard. It’s definitely hard. It’s tempting to say that some cultures are naturally Radically Candid. Certainly, Radical Candor looks very different in Tel Aviv than it does in Tokyo. Sometimes people think that it’s harder if you come from a polite culture. Often when I’ll talk to a team of Brits they’ll say, “It’s much harder for us,” but in fact, I don’t find that to be the case. I think that everybody struggles to find the right way to say something to another person.

I’m also curious if there are any special considerations or nuances to the concept when you’re dealing with female leaders. So many people now still have to deal with this double-standard where being forthright and blunt might be considered a positive trait in a male manager and a negative trait in a female manager.

It’s hard to be Radically Candid with someone who looks like you. It’s even harder to be Radically Candid with someone who doesn’t look like you regardless of what the dimensions of that not looking like you are.

Specifically to the topic of gender, I think if you’re a male boss and you have female direct reports, there’s a good chance that you have a tendency to pull your punches with the women on your team in a way you don’t with the men, to give less feedback or gentler feedback. It’s not because of some sort of deep-seated terrible misogyny. It’s because you want to be a nice guy and you want to be supportive of the women. Just remembering that you need to give women the same kind of feedback that you give the men on your team is really, really helpful.

Now, if you’re a woman and you’re being Radically Candid, you’re much more likely to get unjustly accused of obnoxious aggression. This is the “abrasive” problem. This is the “bossy” problem.

This is when the name-calling starts.

Here’s my advice on that. First of all, it’s important to just recognize it for what it is. There’s a time and a place to reject that feedback. Just put on your tough suit and continue to show that you care personally, but whatever you do, don’t back off your willingness to challenge directly. Because even if you get accused of obnoxious aggression unfairly, that’s actually a better place to be than ruinous empathy or manipulative insincerity, which is where you’re going to wind up if you back off that challenge. Move up on the “care personally” axis but don’t back off your willingness to challenge directly.

Also, a word of caution on the caring personally thing. Often women wind up getting asked to do the office housework. There’s a great essay that Virginia Woolf wrote called “The Angel in the House.” She was referring to this Victorian poem about how women have no wants or needs of their own but just there to support the men. It’s a ridiculous poem.

Unfortunately what happens sometimes is that women are expected to be the angel in the office. You’ll burn out and be really pissed off if you get sucked into that path. You want to show you care personally, but don’t get sucked into becoming the angel in the office.

This is obviously a management concept. But as we talk, this sounds very much like something that isn’t just top-down but something that an entire team might want to adopt or even that might go the opposite way, might go from bottom up.

I hate hierarchical language — but it’s got to go up, down and sideways.

The first step is to ask for criticism. Not just ask for criticism but demand criticism. As hard as it is to give criticism, it’s also awkward to ask for it.

The first step is to ask for criticism. Not just ask for criticism but demand criticism.

Then paradoxically you have to embrace the discomfort. It’s awkward for the other person and it’s tempting for them to just say everything’s fine. You’ve got to actually make it more uncomfortable for the person to tell you nothing than to tell you something.

Then you’ve got to listen to what is said with the intent to understand it, not to respond, not to get defensive. You’ve really got to manage that tendency to get defensive.

Then finally, you’ve got to reward the truth. If somebody points out a problem and you agree it’s a problem, fix it. Tell them that you fixed it. If you disagree that it’s a problem, find whatever that nugget of what they said that you can agree with and then come back to them a couple of days later when you’re definitely calmer, cooler and not defensive and explain.

That all makes a lot of sense. [Radical Candor] sounds difficult, but it all makes a lot of sense.

It sounds hard but when you start doing it and seeing the results, it’ll start to feel like exercising regularly. It’ll be hard not to do it. You’ll feel gross. It’ll be like brushing your teeth. You’ll feel gross when you don’t do it.

You can hear the complete interview and subscribe to future episodes of “Taking Note” at iTunes, SoundCloud, or Google Play

NOTE: Kim also spoke about Radical Candor at the SXSW conference last week. Check out our notes from the SXSW Workplace Track!

from Evernote Blog http://ift.tt/2nWMGg5 via IFTTT

#Evernote Blog