#TANA - Salted Caramel

[tanalogyosc]

"I created a new device and I need to experiment on it... Want to be a test subject?"

Name: Liam Amerylle Object: Allium Gender: Male

A sketchy alleyway inventor who surprisingly has many legit certificates and diplomas, as well as awards and fame in the world of technology.

Allium is, however, known to be quite chaotic and crazy. He likes to create useless or weird inventions in his downtime such as a screaming alarm clock shaped like a doll, a mirror that will automatically give you a compliment or an insult whenever you are in front of it, and a jar of pickles that yells when it's electrocuted...

Anywho, what people don't know is that Allium is actually heavily involved in the hidden secret lurking in Astrapollissei. People have even stated that they saw a SIERRA Personel entering his establishment...

Also yes he's very tall compared to other characters. (I love tall men)

[weeblyteblog]

Scoops of Tradition: New Baltimore's Family-Made Ice Cream Delights

Scooping Tradition: The New Baltimore Ice Cream Legacy

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Flavorful Adventures: Discovering New Baltimore's Ice Cream Selection

Step into a symphony of flavors at New Baltimore Ice Cream, a cherished oasis at 14738 Ravenna Ave NE, Alliance, OH, where the menu is a melodic tapestry of delightful indulgences. Immerse yourself in a world of small-batch ice cream marvels, meticulously crafted on-site to ensure a symphony of freshness in every scoop. The ever-evolving menu invites exploration, promising a novel gustatory experience with each visit. Traverse through the familiar notes of creamy vanilla and rich chocolate or venture into uncharted territory with the harmonious blend of salted caramel swirls and the vibrant crescendo of wild berry delight. Here, diversity reigns supreme, catering to the varied tastes of every ice cream connoisseur.

At New Baltimore Homemade Ice Cream, your cravings find their perfect match, be it in a cup, cone, or the extravagant world of sundaes. But wait, the adventure doesn't end there! Devotees of creamy milkshakes and velvety floats are in for an absolute treat. Make sure to explore the realm of seasonal delights and signature sundaes, specially curated to ignite your taste sensations. Here, generosity meets excellence, with ample portions and an unwavering dedication to quality. For ice cream aficionados seeking an unparalleled journey, New Baltimore Homemade Ice Cream stands as the ultimate destination.

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Beyond offering delectable ice cream, New Baltimore Homemade Ice Cream weaves an ambiance that's a sweet treat in itself. From the instant you enter, a radiant and inviting atmosphere envelops you, infusing an immediate uplift to your spirits. The walls are alive with bursts of vibrant colors, imbuing the space with a sense of lively exuberance and playful charm. Adorned throughout are captivating visuals—pictures of indulgent ice cream sundaes and a tantalizing assortment of treats—creating a visual narrative that sets the scene for the delightful journey ahead.

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CONTACT DETAILS

Location: 14738 Ravenna Ave NE, Hartville, OH 44632, United States

Website: https://new-baltimore-ice-cream.club/

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot “Sunday Morning Donuts” (Rated NC17)

Summary: When their favorite donut shop runs out and closes up for the day, a GrubHub driver with loose lips leads Santana and Mercedes to Kurt and Blaine's door, where they unknowingly interrupt a Sunday morning tradition. (1472 words)

Read on AO3.

Knock-knock-knock.

…

Knock-knock-knock.

…

BANGBANGBANGBANG!

“Kurt! Blaine! Open this door! We know you’re in there!” Santana yells, slamming on their thick metal door with her fist. Down the hall, a neighbor rolls their door open a slit and grumbles loudly: “Can you please keep it down? There are people trying to sleep!”

“No!” Santana snaps, not looking their way. “This is an emergency!”

Mercedes, more concerned about not causing problems between Kurt, Blaine, and their neighbors, says, “We’ll try to keep it down. Right, Santana?”

But Santana ignores them both and slams on the door harder. The older woman mutters, “Bitch,” under her breath and closes her door with a fairly substantial slam.

“Only in New York,” Mercedes says, figuring that poor old lady is probably thinking the same thing.

“One minute, one minute, hold on!” Kurt bellows, voice sliding up in pitch. “I’m coming!”

“Well don’t take all day about it!” Santana yells with her lips an inch from the seam between the wall and the door. “We’s got some serious business to discuss!”

“Yeah, yeah …” Kurt’s voice flutters, sustaining what sounds like a prolonged yawn. After that, the loft goes quiet. Santana glues her ear to the door. She hears Kurt groan, strained and labored, followed seconds later by angry footsteps marching towards her. The heavy door shakes and rumbles as Kurt pushes it open. Dressed in what might be only a robe, he leans against the frame, looking from Santana to Mercedes with arms crossed.

He doesn’t even try to say hello first.

He knows he won’t get it out in time.

“Where are they!?” Santana demands.

“Good morning, ladies,” Kurt says, rubbing his eyes. “And to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Don’t play asleep with me! I know you have them! Which means you’ve been up a while! A half hour at least!”

“At least …” Kurt mimics.

“Have what?” Blaine asks, trundling up behind his husband in the same exhausted state.

“Donuts!”

Kurt’s face pinches. “It’s Sunday morning! The majority of the country is probably eating donuts! That doesn’t mean that we have any!”

“Au contraire, mon frere! I happen to have it on good authority that you guys ordered two dozen gourmet donuts from the Donut Pub and had them delivered via GrubHub! The last two dozen before they closed up shop for the day!”

Kurt’s eyebrow arches sharply. “And how would you know that?”

“We were on line to buy some,” Mercedes explains. “We were right about to order when they said they were out. Santana saw a GrubHub driver heading to his car …”

“… and I stopped him. Asked him what was up and he told me. I tried to buy a few donuts off him, but he wouldn’t give ‘em up.”

“Well, good for him for doing his job,” Kurt says smugly.

“Yeah, but, for five bucks, he told us where he was going,” Mercedes sheepishly admits. Kurt and Blaine both gasp.

“What!? That’s … that’s … that’s got to be against some kind of company policy!” Blaine exclaims.

“And after I gave him a ten dollar tip, too!”

“Why would he do that!? The two of you could be serial killers!”

“Which means …” Santana interrupts, trying to bring the conversation back to the subject of her lack of pastry “… you guys are either both off your diets, or you’re having some sort of breakfast party …”

“Kinky breakfast party …” Mercedes snickers, looking the robe-clad men up and down.

“… and you didn’t invite us!”

Blaine shoots Kurt a look – a worried look, Mercedes notices. Kurt shakes his head, his mouth drawn into a tight and unamused line. “As unlikely as both those scenarios are, no. There is no party. Just me, my husband, and the last of the donuts,” Kurt gloats, leaning in to Santana’s face when he does.

“But why two dozen?” Mercedes asks. “That’s a lot of donuts for the two of you.”

“Donut Pub gives you a discount on delivery via GrubHub if you spend a certain amount,” Blaine says. “Otherwise, you’re spending the same, just getting less donuts.”

“So we get what sounds good,” Kurt puts in, “and whatever we don’t eat, I take to Vogue.”

Mercedes looks at Santana and shrugs. “Sounds reasonable.”

Santana huffs. “Don’t care. I still wants me some donuts, and I’m not leaving here till I get some!”

Kurt glares at her, then looks over at his husband and sighs. He could say no. Could slam the door in their faces and go on with his life, but that would mean punishing one of his best friends in the world for something that was probably only Santana’s idea. Besides, Santana wouldn’t leave. She would plant herself on the floor in front of their door and yell obscenities in English and Spanish until they gave her what she wanted. Even if they ate all the donuts (which, thank God, they haven’t) they’d have to order more from somewhere else just to get her to shut up.

He’s not going through that again.

“Glazed?” he asks, staring at her with all the venom of a brown recluse. “Powdered? Filled?”

Santana smiles and Kurt hates it. That tiny twist of victory makes him seethe, makes him want to grab every donut they have and grind them in her face. But in her sick mind she’d still see it as a win since she’d have all the donuts (wearing, more accurately) and he’d have none.

“I saw them pack your order. I know for a fact that you have the crème brulee, the salted caramel, the raspberry cremes, the cinnamon toast crunch, the Belgian dark chocolate, and the lavender and chai tea.”

“Yeah?”

“We want one of each.”

Kurt looks at Blaine again and, after a significant moment, nods. Blaine pulls a face of annoyance, but also acceptance. There’s no winning this one.

Not unless they consider moving.

“One moment,” Blaine says, voice dripping with fake politeness as he turns and walks back into the loft. Kurt flashes Santana a toothy grin-mace while Mercedes mouths, ‘Sorry,’ behind her back.

Blaine comes back moments later with a brown paper bag cinched at the top and hands it over.

“There you go,” he says in a sourly-sweet voice. “One of each.”

“Let’s hope they don’t go straight to your thighs,” Kurt adds.

Santana smirks, snatching the bag out of his hand. “Thick thighs save lives.”

“Good bye, Santana,” Kurt says, pulling the door closed.

“What? You’re not even going to invite us in for coffee?” Santana teases.

“No.”

“Let’s go, Tana.” Mercedes grabs the bag out of her hands and heads towards the stairs. “Let’s leave them be. You got what you wanted.”

Kurt rolls the door shut, throws the bolts, then rests his back against it, listening as Santana chases Mercedes, and her donuts, down the hall. When her voice dissolves down the staircase, Kurt looks at Blaine.

Blaine looks at Kurt.

The two of them sputter.

Then they start laughing.

“God, I hate her!” Kurt chokes out, only half joking.

“It’s a good thing the guy from GrubHub gave us the heads up that he was being harassed!”

“Yeah, but I’m still not thrilled that he told.”

“True,” Blaine agrees. “Maybe we’ll go with Postmates next time. We’ll put in the notes that they’ll get tipped extra for leading any potential stalkers astray.”

“Like that would work! Santana’s part bloodhound, I’m sure of it!” Kurt shakes the last of the laughter out of his chest, then fixes dark, bedroom eyes on his husband. “You still good to go?”

Blaine’s laughter peters in his throat as he meets his husband’s gaze with a sultry one of his own. “Absolutely. Who goes first this time?”

“I think … you.” Kurt grins, down to take charge, siphon back some control after the b.s. that just took place.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” Blaine unties his robe and lets it fall to the ground, leaving him naked and hard, the way they had been before Santana started banging at their door. They walk to the kitchen, and Blaine sits in his favorite chair.

“Crème Brulee?” Kurt asks, fingers dancing over the remaining donuts, some half eaten, partially violated, waiting, as Blaine is, for their chance to be devoured completely. “Belgian Dark Chocolate?”

“The Crème Brulee, I think.” Blaine settles in, legs spread, his impatient erection bobbing at the thought of the sweet way his husband is about to go down on him, of how long it takes to eat these particularly dense confections.

Kurt slips the hole of the donut over Blaine’s flushed head, careful not to crack the icing, then slides the ring slowly down his husband’s shaft, watching it travel with watering mouth and hungry eyes. “Excellent choice.”

[allitalksfandom]

Happy belated Nagamas!

Happy @nagamas to @siegmunds! Pretty cool to write for one of the first people I met in the FE fandom, huh? Anyway, the prompt was for EphraimxLyon AU fic, so here’s a tale of baking, finding independence, and confusing introspection on one’s sexuality.

“You may kiss the groom,” says Eirika.

           “Ew, but he has cooties!” Ephraim sticks out his tongue.

           “No I don’t! You do!” Lyon stares at them in a panic.

           “Lyon doesn’t have cooties, you weirdos.” Eirika sits behind a small folding table. “Now I’m going to sell you a house.”

           Ephraim doesn’t mind pretend-marrying Lyon. His father told him that it was okay for men to love men, and there is a couple with a huge dog down the street. It’s just that everyone knows that girls have cooties, but Eirika says that boys have cooties. So that means that everyone has cooties.

           “We can’t buy a house. We don’t have money,” says Lyon.

           “Then buy a fort,” Eirika replies.

           “Okay, bye!” Ephraim moves the pillow that is serving as the door to the pillow fort in his room, and he and Lyon enter.

           “It’s dusty,” says the purple-haired boy.

           “Well, we can’t afford anything better. We need jobs.”

           “Let’s be bakers like our dads,” suggests Lyon.

           They leave the fort and head over to the kitchen playset.

           Eirika is still sitting at the table. “Ooh, I want to be your customer!”

           “Sure,” says Ephraim. “What are you going to make, Lyon?”

           “It’s a cake with salted caramel frosting,” he replies.

           Ephraim licks his lips. “I wish we were old enough to bake for real!”

           “We’re eight. Father told me that I’ll burn myself if I get too close to the oven.”

           Ephraim huffs. “You don’t have to listen to your dad all the time, you know.”

           “But he’s the smartest person I know.”

           “And one day you’ll be smarter than him. Now c’mon, Eirika’s waiting.” Ephraim grabs his plastic mixer and stirs an imaginary mixture.

++++++

           Valentine’s Day is in a week.

           “So because we’re in middle school, there isn’t a class party, so no candy,” complains Ephraim. He sits at a table inside Renais Bakery, owned and operated by his family for seventy-two years.

           “You kids get enough sweets from coming here every day,” his father replies.

           “That’s not true! Eirika and I don’t have cavities, so we must not be getting enough!”

           The bakery’s new employee walks into the room. “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Renais, but the mayor’s office is the phone about catering an event.”

             “Thanks, Seth.” Fado goes behind the counter and goes into his office.

           Ephraim slips behind the counter and stands next to Seth, who takes an oval bowl out of the microwave. “What are you making?”

           “It’s called ‘indoor s’mores,” says Seth.

           “Don’t you need a campfire for that?”

           “Not for this type of s’more,” he explains. “You melt a chocolate bar or two in the microwave, and then mix the melted chocolates with mini marshmallows and pieces of graham cracker. After that, all you have to do is scoop the mixture into cupcake wrappers.”

           “Oh, I can help!”

           Eirika runs around to join them before Seth can respond. “I want to help, too!”

           “I asked first!”

           “Well, I finished my homework, and you haven’t started yours yet.”

           Their teenaged companion interrupts them. “I don’t see any reason why you both can’t help,” he says.

           They make twenty indoor s’mores, and Ephraim only licks his spoon three times.

           “This is cool, but if I were in charge, I would use regular marshmallows and roast them first,” he says.

           “That’s a great idea, Ephraim.” His father has returned to the front of the bakery without any of them noticing.

           “Mr. Fado, I-”

           “Don’t apologize, Seth.” Fado turns back to Ephraim. “I wish your teachers knew how creative you are.”

           Ephraim rolls his eyes. “They don’t know anything. Anything I care about, at least. Why do I have to go to school, anyway?”

           “You have to either go to school or be homeschooled because it’s the law, Ephraim. And I don’t have the time to teach you myself.”

           Ephraim glances at Seth. “You’re so lucky that you’re almost grown.”

++++++

           “Well, at least we have lunch at the same time, Lyon.”

           Ephraim starts high school next week, and Magvel High School buses kids in from all over the county.

           “I can’t believe that we’ll finally be going to school together,” says Eirika.

           Lyon lowers his voice. “I wanted to ask you two…You’re pretty popular, right?”

           Eirika shrugs. “I mean, people seem to like us at school. Why do you ask?”

           Lyon stares at the table. “I was hoping that you could help me meet people. You know, make friends.”

           “Of course, Lyon!” Ephraim grins. “And hey, if anyone tries to shove you in a locker, I’ll stick their head in a toilet.”

           “I don’t think that sort of thing happens in real life,” says Eirika. “At least not at Magvel High School.”

           “Yeah, that sounds fake,” says Lyon, but he seems happier when their fathers walk over to the table and the subject changes.

           “All right, you three,” says Fado. “Here lies the ultimate test. What’s better, my unbaked brownies or Vigarde’s black bean brownies?”

           “Black beans?!” Ephraim groans. “That sounds disgusting.”

           “It’s better than it sounds,” replies Vigarde. His tone of voice is normal enough, but he always sounds stern to Ephraim. “Your father’s concoction has dates in it, of all things.”

           “Well, we’ll see whose dish wins,” says Fado, smirking.

           Their fathers leave, and the trio enthusiastically tries the brownies.

           “They’re so soft,” says Eirika dreamily.

           Lyon taps Ephraim on the shoulder. “You have chocolate on your face.”

           “Where?”

           Lyon grabs a napkin and wipes his face. “I got it,” he says, blushing.

           Ephraim stares at the napkin, saying nothing.

++++++

           “I don’t want to be a baker.”

           Ephraim drops his pizza back onto his plate.

           Eirika is looking intently at their father.

           Fado’s voice is calm. “Why not?”

           “Well, being a chef is still a male-dominated field, right? I can’t imagine it’ll be a lot easier to find acceptance in the baking world.”

           Ephraim’s jaw drops.

           Fado nods. “Okay. What do you want to do, then?”

           “Oh, I still want to work at Renais Bakery, but I want to manage the books and things like that.”

           Their father chuckles. “All right, then. Ephraim can bake and you can handle the money.”

           Ephraim frowns. “Wait a minute. I like baking, but I’m supposed to be the rebellious teen! Don’t take that away from me, Eirika!”

           “Just sneak another beer from the fridge, and you’ll be good for the week.”

           Ephraim pales. “How’d you know about that?!”

           “The only people that have keys to the house are Eirika, you, and I,” says Fado. “Process of elimination.”

           “Well, I don’t want another one of those for a while. I thought I was gonna vomit after I took a couple of sips.”

        ��  That makes his father laugh again.

           The twins look at each other and shrug. Sometimes adults don’t make sense.

++++++

            Now that they’re sixteen, the twins are officially on the payroll at the bakery.

           Eirika gets to double-check all of their father’s books. She keeps her copies in a red notebook that she keeps near the cash register. Ephraim notices that she sometimes has a yellow notebook, too, but he’s never had a chance to look in it.

           Right now he’s making an Oreo cookie cake. He’s used about twenty containers, and it’s taken five hours, but he’s finally done.

           He flops dramatically onto the counter. “I’d like to thank Adderall for its contribution to my cake.”

           “Speaking of, we’re due for our afternoon pill.” Eirika gets two pill bottles out of her bag and hands one to him.

           Ephraim stands up and swallows one with water. He was diagnosed with ADHD in middle school, but Eirika wasn’t until last year.

           She smiles at him. “Your cake looks great, Ephraim.”

           Forde removes a cake from the freezer. “Wow, Ephraim, how did you make that?”

           Ephraim folds his arms behind his head. “Years of perfecting the removal of frosting from Oreos.”

           Forde wags his finger at him. “You’re lucky I’m so chill, otherwise I’d be offended at your not taking my question seriously.”

           “Forde, could you stop chatting for a second and help me?” Kyle is working on the icing for a chocolate espresso cake.

           “I swear you’re going to get the reputation for a nag, Kyle.”

           “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t get in trouble.” Kyle’s voice is weary, like they’ve had this conversation before. Which they have.

           “My father wouldn’t fire you guys, you know,” says Ephraim.

           “That’s right,” adds Eirika. “No great baker works alone, after all, and you’re part of his team.”

           The conversation continues, but Ephraim slips away when his phone vibrates.

           Lyon’s name appears. Are we still on for your tutoring session tonight?

           Ephraim smiles when he sends his response. Only you can make tutoring sound even a tiny bit non-sucky.

           I suppose I should take that as a compliment?

           I suppose so.

++++++

           “I can’t believe that prom is in six weeks,” says Tana, sighing.

           Ephraim is taking her to prom, mainly because their school says that you have to bring a date, she’s his closest female friend, and it will annoy Innes.

           Tana is showing him pictures of the dresses that she’s considering, and he’s pretending to pay attention.

           It isn’t working.

           “I wish you’d stop texting Lyon long enough to hear me say that your father’s on fire.”

           “Wuh?” Ephraim nearly throws his phone on the ground.

           Tana giggles. “Got your attention? Good! So I know that I want this color, it’s called shocking pink, so I’d like if your bowtie matched. And I’ll have flowers in that color, and your cummerbund will be pink, too.” She stares at him for a moment. “You’re not one of those guys who hates pink because they’re afraid it’ll make them feminine if they wear it, so you’re all set.”

           Ephraim bends down to pick up his phone. “If it’s that easy, why all the fuss? I’d just wear what you picked out.”

           “Honestly?” She blushes. “Until freshman year, I had a huge crush on you.”

           He gapes at her. “Really? Like when we were kids?”

           She nods slowly. “Yup. And then I realized that you wouldn’t feel the same way, so I gave up on you. I’ve always wanted to go to a dance with you, though, so think of it as a celebration of my moving on three years ago. And talking about my dress to you is part of that fantasy. That’s why.”

           “Not that I want you to be pining after me like a lost puppy or anything, but what made you so certain I wouldn’t feel the same?”

           She tilts her head. “Well, Eirika told me a theory of hers last week.”

           “What do you mean?”

           “She thinks that you might not like girls. And that you like guys.”

           Ephraim blinks.

           “And honestly, I think it makes sense.”

           “Uh, why? I mean, I’m not offended, but me, gay?”

           “Well, maybe you’re bi and just don’t like girls. Nonbinary people exist, right? And Eirika noticed that she never found smut in your family computer’s history.”

           “Why was she checking the history?!”

           “To clear things.”

           “What, is she looking at smut?”

           “Her, definitely not. But she also said that you never seemed to find any female celebrities cute, but that you’re close with Lyon.”

           “So she thinks I’m dating Lyon?” Ephraim huffs. “Who knew she was so invested in my lack of a personal life?”

           Tana holds up her hands. “I’m just telling you what she said.” She bites her lip. “You’re sure you’re not mad?”

           Ephraim shakes his head. “I just wish she wasn’t gossiping about me, that’s all.”

++++++

           He confronts Eirika about it that evening when he’s making a zebra layer cake.

           “I’m sorry for talking to Tana about you, Ephraim.”

           He puts down the baking soda. “I just want to know why you’re making assumptions about me?”

           She scratches her chin. “I wanted to help you figure out your sexuality, because I’m starting to figure out mine. It’s been confusing, so I wanted to spare you some of that. And spare Tana from misunderstanding why you wanted to take her to prom. But that doesn’t make what I did right.”

           He sighs. “I’ll forgive you.” He rests his elbows on the counter. “So, you said that you’re figuring out your sexuality? Come on, you can’t just mention that and expect me to ignore it.”

           She blushes. “Well…I think I might be pan. And somewhere on the asexual spectrum,” she explains. “I want to date someone, but I never really thought about what gender they’d be. And I can’t really imagine myself having sex, so…”

           “Is that so? And yet you don’t want to be a baker. Way to bust asexual stereotypes, sis.” He gives her a hug.

           “Ephraim, you got baking soda all over me!”

           He grins. “I know.”

           Eirika rolls her eyes. “You’re impossible.” She pauses. “But about being a baker…Can I show you something?”

           “Sure thing.”

           They go into her room, and Eirika pulls out her yellow notebook. She hands it to him.

           “It’s a journal?”

           “Look closer,” she says.

           He reads some of the entries. June 2, 2013: Local honey has been pretty popular lately, so Kyle went and bought honey from a farmer’s market a few miles away. The guys are using it to make popsicle-like treats…

           Ephraim looks up at her. “You’ve been writing down what we’re making at the bakery?”

           “I know it sounds creepy to be watching the guys work, but at first it was because I wanted to see what’s the most popular of our special products. But then I started to notice little things, like how delicate Forde’s pipette work is, or the way Kyle transforms when he sells something, or how Seth makes some of the best damn cookies I’ve ever eaten. And… I think I want to be involved with everything at the bakery, not just the business side of things.”

           “Wow, Eirika.” Ephraim runs his hand through his hair. “I’m glad you’ve come back to us.”

           “I never left, silly.”

           “You know what I mean.”

           She smiles. “I’m still hoping to get a business degree from community college, though.”

           “Then they’ll be lucky to have you.” He hands back the notebook. “And I won’t mention your notes to the guys.”

           “Thanks, Ephraim.” They hug, baking soda and all.

++++++

           Ephraim sees a food truck for the first time when he picks Eirika up from one of her classes.

           Four food trucks are parked in a row, each with a handful of people clustered outside of them. Regulars chat with the owners, people greet friends on their way to class, and clumsy students pick up dropped change.

           “Hey!”

           Ephraim turns to see Eirika walking towards him. “Hey.”

           “Hope I didn’t leave you waiting too long.” Eirika stands next to him and adjusts her backpack.

           “Nah, I was just checking these out.”

           “The food trucks? They’re pretty cool, I suppose. Some are better than others, of course. And there are some specialty ones that serve macaroni and cheese or sandwiches.”

           “Huh.”

           “What is it?” Eirika tilts her head to look at him quizzically.

           “I’ll tell you later. Don’t want you to steal my idea.”

           “Is this about my notebook? I don’t ‘steal’ ideas!”

           Ephraim laughs, and together they walk to the bus stop.

++++++

           At this dinner, it’s Eirika who drops her pizza to her plate.

           “You think a bakery food truck would be a good idea, Ephraim?” His father looks at him with scrutiny.

           “Not a food truck, exactly. More like a mobile version of our bakery.”

           “We have a van for deliveries, Ephraim.”

           “But this would be different. We’d serve specialties from the bakery and travel around the county.”

           “I just don’t think it’s feasible.”

           “Well, there’s nothing preventing me from saving money to buy a food truck and any permits we need, right?”

           Fado stares at him for a moment. “I suppose not.”

           Eirika says nothing but frowns.

           After dinner, he texts Lyon to tell him about his idea.

           I think it sounds swell, Ephraim.

           Ephraim laughs. “Swell?”

           Don’t tease me. But really. I’d love to visit your food truck. What do you think you’ll call it?

           I don’t know. Something cool. Like “Reginleif.”

           Are you referencing a Valkyrie or speaking German?

           Neither. Just think it sounds cool.

           You never fail to amaze, Ephraim.

           Ephraim stares at his phone. I suppose I should take that as a complement?

           Lyon remembers. I suppose so.

++++++

           It takes four years, but Ephraim saves up the money to buy his truck and move out of the house.

           Father said that he understood that Ephraim wanted independence. Eirika doesn’t.

A few weeks after he’s moved into Kyle’s apartment, she calls Ephraim over FaceTime.

           “How’s it going, sis?”

           “Oh, great,” she chirps. “Dad, Seth, Franz, and I have settled into a nice routine. Seth and I handle the morning rush, I help Dad with the business side of things around midday, Franz comes in after school and helps us bake, we’re done by five. I go to the gym or out for a run after dinner, and then I relax for the rest of the night.”

           “Okay,” he says, frowning. “But really.”

           Her expression matches his. “How could you tell that I was lying?”

           “We shared a womb.” He sips from his beer.

           Eirika laughs, but it sounds like a sigh. “We’re managing. Having only two full-time employees has put a lot of stress on Dad. He’s had a cold for a few days, so that’s not helping.”

           Ephraim raises an eyebrow. “Dad never gets sick.”

           “It’s a weird one. He seems really tired. He’s having trouble sleeping at night, too, and he’s out of breath after one flight of stairs.”

           “Well, I’m not a doctor, but that sounds weird all right. Have you talked to him about going in to one of those urgent care centers?”

           “Ephraim, our family’s picture is next to the word ‘stubborn’ in the dictionary. Seth and I spent the entire day trying to bribe him with that chocolate cake we make with the slow cooker. I bet if you asked him, though, he’d reconsider.”

           “Wow, Eirika, you’d make a great spy with how subtle you are. Dad and I are barely texting as it is.”

           Eirika is silent for a moment. “I really miss you. Not in a codependent way, but with you around, life just-”

           “Makes more sense. Yeah, I miss you too. And I’m not sure how much longer Kyle can put up with me sharing an apartment with him.”

           Eirika nods empathetically. “Exactly! And think about poor Franz. He and Forde are still living with their aunt, and I’m sure he was looking forward to working with his older brother, but now he’s working with you at the food truck. I get that you need to sow your wild oats or whatever, but the timing’s all wrong. ”

           “The timing will never be right, Eirika. I need to try this now, while Dad’s still working.”

           “But you’ve always loved the bakery.”

           “I’ve always loved baking. That’s something very different. And I still get to do that!”

           She sighs. “Can you at least come to visit soon? Just because you’ve moved out doesn’t mean that you’re not welcome home.”

           “I’ll have to check with my boss.”

           Eirika rolls her eyes.

++++++

           Hey.

           Leave it to Lyon to use proper grammar when he texts.

           Ephraim picks up his phone from the arm of the couch and fires off a reply. Hey! I haven’t heard from you for weeks, man. Are you all right?

           I’ve been busy. Then another message. I was thinking about you.

           Ephraim’s heart skips a beat. I’ve been thinking about you, too. He pauses to think for a moment. We should get together soon, just the two of us.

           No response.

           He keeps texting. We can get something to eat or see a movie. We can do both, maybe?

           Still no answer.

           Ephraim curses. That sounded like I’m asking you out, but I’m not. Unless you want me to ask you out or something.

           Nothing.

“Seriously?!” He groans and puts his phone back down. He closes his eyes. Maybe when he wakes up he’ll feel like less of a tool.

His phones starts buzzing, of course.

It’s Eirika.

He instinctually answers. “Eirika?”

Her voice is stiff. “It’s Dad. We’re at the hospital.”

“Oh my God. What the hell happened?”

“He coughed up rust-colored mucus, so Seth and I begged him to go to the doctor. We took him to the urgent care center that I took Seth to three days ago.”

“Why did Seth need to go the urgent care?”

“Well, he had to get transferred to the hospital, too. He broke his arm and collarbone.”

Ephraim wants to ask the story behind that, but he has more pressing concerns. “So what did the doctor say?”

“They sent him to the hospital to get a chest x-ray. They’re thinking pneumonia.”

Ephraim lets out a breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Eirika’s voice is shaky now. “We need you, Ephraim. Come home.”

“I’ll meet you at the hospital. Let me tell Kyle, and I’ll be right there.”

“Love you, bro.”

“Love you, sis.”

He rushes around the apartment in a daze. “Where the hell are my keys?”

He leaves a voicemail on Kyle’s cell. “My dad’s in the hospital. They think it’s pneumonia. Talk later.”

He hears something jingle. “Of course they’re in my pocket. Of course.” He runs out the door and is locking it when his phone vibrates. “Oh, what now?!”

Lyon.

Hope to see you soon, Ephraim.

[bravado-raven]

Tagged

Got tagged by the awesome @itana-007​. Thank you! Sorry its done so late man 😅.

Are you named after anyone? Nah

When was the last time you cried? Last Saturday

Do you like your handwriting? Lmao it’s a mess. Like i don’t even write e’s properly. Whenever I write “the” or “they” it turns into a “Th” or “thy”

What is your favourite lunch meat? Ham or tuna. Ham in a wrap, or tuna in sushi.

Do you have kids? Legitimately, no. Figuratively, I have adopted most of my friends and precious anime beans. ULTIMATE MUM FRIEND INSTINCTS ACTIVATE.

If you were a different person would you be friends with you? HA HA lmao i’m such a shitty person. So nah.

Do you use sarcasm? Not as much as i used too.. cause ppl don’t understand it when i use my sarcasm. I just blankly state the obvious now :D.

Do you still have your tonsils? I think so?

Would you bungee jump? MCFUCK YEAH, language, JUMP OF A BRIDGE AND BOUNCY RIGHT BACK!

What’s your favourite cereal? Saltana Bran? Anything with sultana’s in it really.

Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? Yep, I have to retie it every time to make it nice a secure :D.

Do you think you’re a strong person? Physically, No. Mentally, Maybe. Emotionally, hahahahahaha.

What’s your favourite ice cream? Salted Caramel, Choc Mint. Anything that isn’t overly sweet.

What’s the first thing you notice about people? Feet or height? Maybe Hair? idk maybe unique thing they do, like fidget or the way they speak. I dont like eye contact so i don’t tend to look at peoples faces a lot (Whoops).

What’s your least favourite physical thing about yourself? Gotta agree with Tana here.. Everything...

What colour pants and shoes are you wearing right now? Blue Jeans and we dont wear shoes inside so... the floor?

What are you listening to right now? My brother play COD with his friends.

If you were a crayon what colour would you be? Disappointment Grey Wild Blue Yonder or Unmellow yellow OR SCREAMIN GREEN (I’m dying, my new moods are crayola crayon colours)

Favorite smell? Campfires or Coconut or anything freshly baked.

Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? Last person i texted was @firthermore​ and i sent them a quality spongebob meme. (luv u)

Favourite sport to watch? I don’t watch sport that often, but i get super into it if i know the rules.. so like, volleyball, swimming or rugby.

Hair colour? Black

Eye colour? Brown

Do you wear contacts? Nah

Favourite food? Mango, noodles/pasta, literally any asian cuisine.

Scary movies or comedy? I’d rather a scary movie, if ur good enough it can turn into a comedy XD.

Last movie you watched? The Martian.

What colour shirt are you wearing? Long sleeved dark blue top cause i is a cold.

Summer or winter? Winter

Hugs or kisses? Gotta agree with Tana, neither. Gotta keep the bubble alive.

Book you’re currently reading? Orphan X by Gregg Hurwitz (Still)

Who do you miss right now? My friends? i miss seeing them everyday.

What’s on your mouse pad? Are mouse pads still a thing?? Uhh, dont have one.

What’s the last tv program you watched? Bungou Stray Dogs (Dammit @haikyuukazoo)

What is the best sound? Someone laughing, like legitimately losing it.

Rolling stones or The Beatles? Don’t listen to either.

What’s the furthest you’ve ever traveled? Qatar when I was like 4.

Do you have a special talent? I dont have talent, let alone a special one.

Where were you born? Perth, Australia

I tag… @whovian1077, @firthermore, @haikyuukazoo, @oik-awas, and @beeboplox @yesantiplier and anyone who’s in the mood to answer some Q’s.

100% optional so no pressure to do this :D.

If you want me to stop tagging you please tell me.

[tanalogyosc]

"I'm not actually competing for the prize, I'm just here for the free world traveling!"

Name: Emil Salsvenif Object: Salted Caramel Gender: Male

Salted Caramel is a photographer with a wide range of arts and followers. In the past, Emil was diagnosed with a sickness that made him bedridden for the rest of his childhood.

His childhood friends, Popcorn and Cotton Candy, always visit him to play and tell stories for him; but this only caused Emil to yearn to be free in the outside world.

After extensive treatment and operations, Salted Caramel eventually managed to be completely healed, and he's now pursuing his dreams to see the world in its entirety. He joined a photography club in college to further experience what it means to be alive.

[tanalogyosc]

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