#bike theme cake

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Four

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Descriptions of past domestic violence, past abuse, past sexual assault, SANE exam. Death scene in relation to reader's job. Stalking. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Trauma. PTSD. Medical inaccuracies, hospitals, medical procedures, medications, nurse!reader. Comfort. Soft dads. Johnny is a shameless flirt.

“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday sweet Penny-“ 

Their baby shrieks at the crest in the song, smile shoving her plump cheeks upwards, little fists banging on her highchair tray. She has no idea what’s going on, Johnny imagines, but he knows she’s excited that everyone is singing to her, looking at her, celebrating her. “happy birthday to you!” She swings a hand forward, plunging into the buttercream icing of the cupcake, fingers digging in as much as she can. Johnny can't help but give her the biggest kiss he can manage while trying to dodge the flying food, and Simon laughs over his shoulder. 

“Atta girl.” Simon encourages, trying to peel the wrapper so she can get more in her mouth, icing and cake all over his fingers now too, and Johnny wanders for a second, imagining something certainly not appropriate for their daughter’s first birthday. 

“Can’t believe your kid is a year old.” Kyle says from behind him, two beers in his hand. “Feels like yesterday you were even tellin’ us she existed.” 

“Time is movin’ too fast.” Johnny agrees, taking a long sip as Simon pulls Pen from the highchair, white and blue icing all over her face, arms, and hands. Kyle is right, it is hard to believe it’s been a year, hard to believe that their baby is already one, growing up right before their eyes, taking her first steps, saying her first words. He knows it won’t be long until she’s really talking, running, riding a bike, going to school… thoughts of the future forming a lump in the back of his throat that sticks like taffy. 

Simon steps into his orbit with Penny in his arms, keeping her turned outwards away from his body, half tilted to avoid the sticky smear of icing that’s painted all over her. 

“What is it?” he murmurs, leaning in to brush his lips against Johnny’s cheek, warm breath fanning over his skin. 

“Nothin’ ah-“ Penny babbles, head tipped back, gazing at him with wide, pretty eyes, and Johnny rubs a knuckle across her messy cheek. “she’s gettin’ so big. Feel like ‘m missing it, sometimes. Like I should be here.” Simon sighs. 

“Johnny-“ 

“I know, I know.” They made this decision, together. They chose what was best for their family, even though they both knew the distance, the time apart, would sting.  

“The option is always there if you want to swap. Though I think we both know you’d lose your head behind a desk.” He nods, but the longing lingers, and Simon reads him right through to his heart, like always. “After this next op, let’s sit down and talk about it. Maybe we can make some adjustments for next year.” 

“Ah love ye.” 

“I love you too.” He shifts Pen into his side, inclining his head towards her grubby hands. “Can you wash her up?” She reaches for him, trying to latch around his neck, and he rubs her back, cooing into her hair. 

“Whit happened to my precious bairn, eh? Where’d she go?” Pen giggles, fingers finding his nose, long strands of his hair with a tug, and he playfully lifts her, mouth against her tummy, blowing loud raspberries over her shirt that has her absolutely screaming with glee. 

“Da. Dadadada-“ she babbles at him. 

“C’mon wee lamb, let’s go get ye into some clean clothes.” 

There’s an envelope shoved under your front door.

The shitty carpet in the hallway is too high, threads jagged, so it sits a little crumpled, half wedged beneath the bottom and the floor.

It’s manilla. Letter sized. Stepping over it to get inside, you immediately notice the lack of postage. Or addressing. Or anything at all, that would signify that it had been delivered by proper authorities.

It’s from him. 

You know it is, even though you try to find any other rational reasoning, anything that could explain the mystery behind the envelope and how it got here.

You know. You know it’s probably a letter. Handwritten. Signed in perfect penmanship. You know it’s probably something foul, sick words twisted into terrifying sentences.

You kick it inside and let it sit there for a few minutes. You get changed, get into comfortable clothes, start your kettle. You wrap your sweater tight around your body and lean against your countertop, staring at the offensive tan-beige paper that lays in the middle of the floor.

It’s from him. 

He knows where you are. 

“That’s impossible.” You answer yourself aloud, fingers curled so tight into your palms that they make little crescent moon shapes in your skin.

Your illusion, delusion, of safety, anonymity, is easily washed away by the appearance of the envelope, and whatever lurks inside it.

It’s too soon. 

You didn’t make it.

It’s not a letter inside the envelope at all.

It’s a photo.

A photo of you, taken in harsh hospital lighting, dated over two years ago. It’s taken from the shoulders up, skin bare and exposed, fresh impact bruising around your neck, eye starting to swell, lip crusted with blood.

You remember this photo. You remember the awful experience of the SANE exam, the drive to the hospital that took over two hours because you had to go to another state, just in case.

You hadn’t changed. Hadn’t showered. Your white eyelet blouse, one of your favorites, was splattered red, bright ruby dried a dark wine by the time you pulled into the little county hospital.

You remember the way it felt, to have your clothes put in a bag. To be handled by gloved fingers, with care and attention. The same way you had done for others before that day, and since.

“What’s your name?” your nurse had asked you, so cautiously, so kind. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.” She tried to promise, but you knew the truth. There was nowhere you could run, not a single place you could hide, where a shadow wouldn’t find you.

The girl, the woman, in the photo is the same person that looks back at you in the mirror every day, except now she’s buried beneath layers and layers of function, schedule, consistency. She’s silenced by distraction. By work.

By fear.

You flip it over with trembling hands, looking for the note or signature you know will be there. Like a greedy, starved pig; he cannot help himself. 

Found you. 

Bile rockets up your esophagus and into your mouth. How long will he toy with you this time?

“Hey, you okay?” Nia asks, frowning at you from her locker.

“Yeah, just slept like shit.” You roll your shoulders, emphasizing the half-truth. You really did sleep poorly, fragments of nightmares keeping you suspended in twilight sleep, clips of memories morphed into the snapping. bloodied jaw of a monster who reared their head every time your REM cycle started, and it shows. In your face, your posture, your skin. You look awful, the only thing really holding you together the resolve you have to push through, to get it together, to leave the envelope and its contents behind in your mind. You’re safer inside these walls above anywhere else, that you know is true. Your safety. Your sanctuary. Nothing can hurt you here. “You know how it is.” You add, and she chuckles.

“Tell me about it. Thought I was going to love overnights, but the sleep schedule is brutal.”

“You get used to it.” You assure her, the two of you making your way down the hall to the pit, and she shrugs.

“If you say so.”

You stand outside of two sixty-eight for too long. People pass you in the hallway, eyes curious, and you pretend to scroll through the tablet, decidedly trying to distract yourself from the dread that’s gathered like a sailor’s knot in the pit of your stomach.

You’re a professional. This behavior is definitely unprofessional. Get yourself together. 

You try, filling your lungs with a deep breath, but you can’t shake the shame, the mortification that is curdling in your stomach at the idea of facing Simon and Johnny after the code black situation last week.

“Go sit with Johnny.”

“Ye’re shaking, pretty girl.”

Will they be angry that you were so rattled? Could they tell? 

Your watch alarm beeps, and you uncurl your spine.

Buck up. 

You’re both anxious, and relieved, that Johnny is asleep when you finally step inside. Simon sits in his usual spot, paperback book’s spine split in the palm of his hand, and at first… he doesn’t even look up. Not until you clear your throat, and he startles in the chair, eyes snapping up to find yours. “Hi.” He frowns.

“What day is it?”

“Uh, it’s Wednesday?”

“I thought you start your week on Thursdays.” That makes your eyebrows raise, uncontained surprise filtering through you. He knows your schedule? Butterflies thrash in your stomach at the notion, something hot flooding your veins as you blink at him.

“I’m on OT.” You drift towards the other side of the bed, eyeing Johnny’s monitor before lifting the blanket to peek at his elevated leg. “How is he?”

“Uncomfortable. The burn debridement has been… difficult.”  You chew on the inside of your cheek. They better not be letting Simon even stand outside and watch that through the window, you think. You’ll have to follow up with whoever is on days.

“Healing burns can be a long and painful process.” You tell him, pulling back the blanket a little further. “I’ll be quick, try to let him get enough sleep as possible.”

“He’ll be sad he missed you.” Simon answers, still watching your every movement, eyes dark and focused above the black cloth mask. The intensity in them catches you off guard when you meet his gaze, hair on the back of your neck standing up straight, and you swallow.

“Well, I’ll still be here in the morning when he wakes so…” you trail off awkwardly, choosing to direct your attention to the scaffolding that’s supporting his femur and hip, checking his sutures for any redness or swelling.

“Do you work a lot of overtime?” Simon asks at the same as he leans forward to brush a stray lock of hair from Johnny’s forehead. The touch is so tender, so gentle, it makes your heart bleed inside your chest, blood warming beneath your skin, captivating your attention until he’s tearing his eyes away from Johnny, and latching onto yours with an expectant expression.

“Oh. Um. Sometimes?”

“Seems like a lot.” He comments, words lazily pulled from his lips, his tone soft, nearly a whisper. “Must make it difficult to spend time with your family, or partner.”

“Oh, I don’t have one of… those.” You immediately refute, pulling up short before the word those, embarrassment making your nose burn. Why are you telling him this? Why are you announcing to a stranger that you’re practically a recluse loner? 

Simon’s head tilts, and he looks like he’s about to say something but your tablet chimes, insistent and loud, signaling a vitals issue in another room.

“E-excuse me.” You stumble, and he nods, turning his attention back towards Johnny.

One… two… three… four…One… two… three… four… One… two-

The count in your head is second nature at this point, turning over and over after four as your arms, back and core start to scream, your breaths coming in shorter. Where the fuck is he? 

The count continues to roll on, lactic acid building up through your muscles, and you take another deep breath, as much as you can manage. The pain is familiar, it’s necessary, it’s a part of your job, but today, it’s burrowing itself beneath your skull, tugging and tearing at the memories that you’ve buried deep.

Pain. Gnarled and knotted strands of associations pull free from the confines of compartmentalization, stretching out across the front of your mind.

One… two… three… four…

You think about the photo. About being on your back, in a bed like this, lost inside the maze of a panic attack while the NP took photos between your legs. While they swabbed for DNA inside of you, under your fingernails, in your mouth. It’s funny how certain things can stick with you, the sound of the plastic bag crinkling as your bloodied clothes were shoved inside, how you can’t sleep on your back now, the way you counted the ceiling tiles over and over that day. One… two… three… four…

“How long has it been?” Nia asks from the other side of the bed, hand steadily squeezing the bag at the correct rate, still watching the monitor like a hawk.

“At least ten minutes.” You glance at the shade pulled over the window, grateful you remembered when you came running in here, the patient’s family standing just outside the door, holding their breath, hoping you’re in here bringing their beloved granny back, when in reality, you’re just traumatizing her body. You’ve already broken one of her ribs, and you’re worried if you keep going, her sternum will fracture too. It’s not fair. “Where the fuck is he?” you hiss between breaths, anger starting to heat your skin, irritation clear in your tone. This isn’t even your patient. Lazy, slacker, pompous ass, where the fu-

“How long has it been?” The nervous voice just inside the door calls, and your head snaps up.

Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. 

“Eleven minutes and twenty-two seconds. Where is Marshall?”

“He- he sent me.” You shake your head. Nia sighs.

“Have you pronounced before?”

“Um. No.”

“And where is Marshall?” You ask again, just to clarify, and the resident swallows.

“I uh, don’t know.” Normally, a resident’s first pronouncement would be supervised by their attending. But since this one’s attending is Marshall, a grade A prick that you can’t stand, it looks like he’ll be on his own.

“Great. Okay.” You take a huge breath, trying to flex your wrists without losing your position. “It’s been twelve minutes now, and no response. Do you want to check?” He nods, and you chew on the inside of your cheek when he doesn’t verbally respond. “I need you to say it out loud.”

“You can stop compressions.” You immediately wilt, stepping away from the side of the bed, the motion of Nia’s hand also slowing until it stops, and she slumps. Marshall’s resident physically checks for a pulse, listens for breath sounds and then finally, does a sternum rub, to no avail.

“Sh-should I…” they trail off, looking back down at the elderly woman in the bed. The deceased woman, whose family is waiting, desperately. You nod.

“Yes.” You tell the resident gently. You can tell he’s unsure, nervous even, and for a moment, you’re transported back to your first code, when you were a baby nurse, a terrified, bumbling mess that needed help, just like he does. And since Marshall is a piece of shit… “No pulse?” You ask, and they nod. “No breath sounds? No sound of a heartbeat?”

“None.” They answer you confidently, and you manage an encouraging smile.

“No response to painful stimuli, no reaction to the sternum rub?”

“Right. No.”

“Okay. So normally, you could also use a thumbnail to press into their nailbed, if you feel like you need it, if you’re not comfortable with the sternum rub, but-“

“No, no. I’m. Yeah. Okay.” They too, take a deep breath, and check their watch. “Time of d-death… twenty one forty five.”

“Great job.” You tell him, pulling the blanket back up around her shoulders. “Do you feel comfortable speaking with the family?” He blanches, and Nia’s work phone dings, signaling another patient’s needs. You sigh for the eightieth time tonight. “Okay. Come on, we’ll do it together.”

The supply closet welcomes you with open arms. It hides you in the low light of it’s forgotten space, and when you fall into the chair, your face drops into your palms, pressing so hard into them that you start to see stars. The curtain falls. The walls of your sanctuary start to feel frail. 

Found you, found you.

He found you. 

Get it together. Get yourself together. 

“Hey, there she is. Missed ye.” Johnny coos, eyes half shut, sleepy and sweet.

“Johnny.” Simon rumbles his name like a warning, one your patient doesn’t seem to heed, still blinking slowly at you with a sly look on his face.

“Had a dream about ye, pretty girl. Dreamt ye were at ho-“

“Alright.” Simon cuts him off, swiftly. Patients often have vivid, weird dreams when they’re all dosed up on medication, and it’s not the first time someone has slurred out some weird vision they’ve had of you in their sleep.

“Good morning to you too.” You quip, glancing at the catheter bag before putting your hands on your hips. “How are you feeling?”

“’m alright. Stomach hurts.” You frown.

“Can you tell me where the pain is?” He motions to his upper right, the area where his newly repaired liver is sitting, and you nod, pulling out your phone immediately to update his doctor. Could be nothing. Could be something. Not for you to determine, but you won’t let it go unnoticed, and you’ll make sure it’s top of mind during shift report. “Can I check your side?” You motion to where his burn is lightly wrapped, and he nods with a sheepish smile.

“Aye, sure can. Ye can take my clothes off anytime.” You roll your eyes, unbuttoning his gown at the shoulder, peeling the gauze away very slowly. The wound looks better than you were expecting, if you’re being honest, and it relieves some of the anxiety that curled up in the pit of your stomach after his admission of upper right quadrant pain. “Yer hands are warm, bun. Feels nice.” Bun? You opt to ignore it. Probably still a little floaty.

“Good, that’s… good. Better than them being icicles.” Your hand brushes across the center of his abdomen when you pull the rest of the dressing away, and he tenses, ab muscles becoming clearly defined, enough that you stall out for a second before turning away to grab fresh gauze for his wound care, hands just a little unsteady. “Oh, fuck.” You mutter when the pack slips, sliding halfway under the little table that’s along the wall, and you sigh, whirling away from both of them and bending at the waist to tiptoe your fingers across the floor until you feel the corner of crinkly plastic. “Gotcha!” When you straighten, turning back towards the bed, Johnny and Simon are staring at you, and there’s a glee filled smile on Johnny’s face, it’s presence both mischievous and beguiling, fingers of his good hand slowly rubbing circles into the inside of Simon’s forearm. “What?”

“Nothing. Ignore him.” Simon deadpans, and then shoots his partner a very serious look, one that nearly has you straightening like you’re in trouble.

“Ach.” Johnny huffs, stroking a gentle touch upwards across Simon’s jaw as you start to reapply his dressing, taking your time to ensure everything looks good and he’s comfortable. You smooth over it once you’re satisfied, checking for any precarious pieces of tape. “Ye take such good care o’ me.” Johnny murmurs, accent soft and scratchy. It’s decadent the way his voice sounds sometimes, enough to make your throat dry and the room feel too hot. “Got lucky, didnae we, Si?”

“Well, it’s m-my job.” You answer, trying not to look down at where his chest and stomach are still exposed, or get caught in the cerulean blue waves of his eyes. They’re such a stark contrast to the intense, velvety hue of Simon’s, the pointed focus of his gaze that’s able to stun you, throw you off kilter the same time Johnny’s makes you feel overheated, and lightheaded. Both of them together could drown you. Overwhelm you.

Balanced. A yin and a yang. 

Get it together. This is your patient and his partner, for gods sake. What is wrong with you? 

Something warms brushes along the skin of your knuckles, a fleeting touch, and when you look down, you see Johnny’s hand, two fingers barely stroking yours, the lightest touch catching your breath in your chest like time is slowing to a crawl, and you’re freezing along with it.

Everything goes quiet in your head.

Simon’s watching you, methodically studying you like he’s trying to decipher every twitch in your expression as Johnny’s fingertips move over your knuckles to the back of your hand, thumb slipping into your palm, blazing heat sparking beneath it.

What… what is happening? 

A phone vibrates. The noise snaps you free from your near statuesque state, and they both divert their attention to its screen. 

“They’re here.” Simon tells him, glancing at you before looking back to his partner. “Be good.” He warns, and Johnny rolls his eyes in response, but he looks almost… desperate now, eyes wide and anxious. 

“Hurry?” he asks, hopefully, Simon leaning down to press mask covered lips to his forehead, his eyes shuttering closed, deep breath passing between their two bodies.

“I’ll be right back.”

“I’m really concerned about the pain in his upper right quadrant. I already sent a text, but if his doctor isn’t on this floor in the next hour, page him again.” The dayshifter nods, tapping a note into her phone. “And Marshall’s resident is practically unsupervised, so keep an eye out.”

“Okay, sounds good.” You mention a few other things, details you noticed throughout your day, and she thanks you for the extra eye, sending you off with a parting wave into the cold, crisp morning, your mind already skipping over your commute to when you’ll be able to sink into your bed one last time.

You’re busy compiling a list as you wait for the elevator. Necessities, things you’ll need indefinitely as you bounce back and forth between a rotation of hotels and on-call rooms, all the usual stuff, clothes, toiletries, and all the important things that can’t be left behind, your birth certificate, passport, other things that could make or break you if lost.

Deep breath. You can do this. It’s not the first time. You’ve done it before, and you can do it again. 

The elevator dings. You take a step forward, not paying attention, and then pull up short when you see who’s getting out.

It’s Simon stepping towards you, with a baby girl in his arms. She’s situated on his hip, nestled into his side and for a second, you falter because… you recognize her. Or at least you think you do... she looks just like the little girl you saw last week.

“Um. Hi.” You blurt, failing to notice at first that he’s not alone, the man from the first night you met them, the one with the mustache standing behind the width of Simon’s body, his arm curled around the woman you saw last week. They step into view, and you give them all a polite smile, one you really hope doesn’t betray your confusion. 

“Hi,” he says your name next, says it so softly it feels tender, and then takes another step closer. “This is Penelope. Our daughter.” Oh. Oh.

They have a baby. A girl. They have a little girl. You don’t know why, but something inside you stumbles, melting into a frazzled, awkward mess, heart thumping in your chest. They have a baby, and Johnny almost died. They have a kid and he’s been trapped in this hospital, miserable in pain, missing his kid. “Pen, this is your Da’s favorite nurse.”

“Bunny.” The baby, Penelope, says, little finger stretching out towards your badge, which is facing outwards with the giant sparkly sticker. Simon chuckles, genuinely, masked lips pressing to her cheek, and you see a glimpse of a father, a protector, a provider. It makes you feel dizzy.

“We’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks, and you nod like a robot, unable to really form a word with your tongue. “Alright baby girl. Let’s go see your Da, yeah?”

[rizzanon]

childhood friend! Shinichiro Sano

part 1 | part 2 (here)

childhood friend! Shinichiro who matures quite significantly by the end of highschool, no longer asking out girls at school anymore much to your surprise

"Woah, look at you."

"Hm??"

"It's been months since you last asked out some random girl. What happened to the women obsessed Shinichiro I know?"

"Shut up, it was just a phase. Besides, you made me open my eyes in a way."

"How so?"

"I guess... I'm just waiting to ask the right person out now."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who invites you to witness the disbandment of the first generation of Black Dragons, despite you not being associated with his gang at all

"Why do you even want me to go? The people I know are only just going to be Takeomi, Waka and Benkei."

"Because I want you to be there. Is there any better reason other than that?"

"I suppose not..."

"And maybe it's also the fact that I need someone to watch over Manjiro haha..."

"I knew it."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who gets upset frustrated when you chose to ride with Takeomi instead of him on the day of the final gathering (he couldn't complain about it to you though, you made a fair point)

"Hey come on! Why are you going to ride with him? Takeomi's a worse rider than me y'know."

T- "Fuck off Shin. You don't worry about me stealing your girl from ya'."

"But you are a reckless rider-"

"Come on Shin, you can't expect me, you and Manjiro to be able to sit in one bike, can you? One of us is surely gonna fall off. I'll be fine with Take-chan, okay?"

"Fine..." (He was not fine with it)

childhood friend! Shinichiro who you make fun of when he comes over to you after the disbandment of the first generation of Black Dragons bawling his eyes out (you were prepared for this outcome)

"Glad to know you're still the same crybaby Shin I know."

M- "Haha! I'm gonna tell Emma you're such a crybaby."

"Cut it out you two! This—sniffs—is a special moment...!"

"You're lucky I brought tissues to wipe your tears away."

"I can't believe you know me that well."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who gets used to you coming over to the Sano household unnanounced whenever you pleased, not that anyone minded, since they all loved your presence

"Emma, be a dear and wake up Shin? Smack him if you have to."

E- "Okay!!"

"Woah, woah, there's no need to smack any—yawn—one. And why are you here?"

"Emma wanted me to teach her a new recipe to make for breakfast. So here I am!"

"And you decided to come over this early??"

"It's 7am Shin. Besides, don't act like you don't like seeing my pretty face the first thing in the morning~"

"Shut up." (Spoiler, he does)

childhood friend! Shinichiro whom you never grow apart from even after highschool, and you both started going on different paths, him opening up a motor bike shop while you started going to college and applied for a part time job as a cashier near the vicinity

"Wait, the shop you're working at is the one down the street, right? Just a few blocks away from my shop?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Great, looks like I can go say hi to you whenever I want."

"Don't you dare do something stupid to get me fired, Shin."

"No promises, ma'am."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who after miserably failing 5 times asks you for your help to bake a cake for Emma's birthday

"And what is this supposed to be?"

"Clearly, it's supposed to be Ariel, y'know, the princess mermaid??"

"That's your best attempt at making an ariel themed cake?? Now I know why you were begging for me to come over when you called me."

"I blame it on Manjiro for ruining the frosting."

M- "Hey! It was you who ruined it."

"So not true."

"I think the both of you should just shut up and help clean up this mess first."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who's gotten used to his siblings asking him where you were whenever you weren't seen with him and getting teased about it

E- "Neh, Shin-nii, where's [name]?"

"Probably stuck in another class, why do you ask?"

E- "I miss her."

M- "Idiot, we already saw her this morning."

E- "Hey! Don't act like you don't want her to come and play with us too!"

"Seriously you two, sometimes I wonder if I'm your older sibling at this point, with how much you ask for her."

M- "Shinchiro, we all know you love her as much as we do, maybe even more~"

"Shut your mouth Manjiro 💢"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who always shows up to your workplace when your shift is almost going to be over, always claiming that he was hungry and wanted to buy something, when in reality, he's there to send you home

"So..."

"And what the hell could you possibly want from this humble store, Shin?"

"Woah, woah! Can't a customer walk around the store to see what they want to get?"

"The last time you were here you knocked down a stack of cans on display, the manager almost reduced my paycheck because of that."

"In my defence, I didn't see the stack of cans."

"Suree you didn't."

"Hey, come on now! You know I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize your job.. on purpose at least...."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Now, would you be so kind to get me a pack of cigarettes, y'know, for a very dear friend of yours?"

"The only think you'll be getting from me is a pack of gum, rotten breath."

"Rude... now come on, when does this shift of yours end anyways? Let's get dinner on the way back."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who becomes your gossip and vent buddy whenever he sends you home after your shift, with him hanging onto every word you say, and hating on whoever you hate even if he doesn't know who the hell they are

"Argh, goddamnit, won't she just give me a break already?"

"Who? Wait—no, let me guess. Is it that girl from your econs class? What's her name again? Ka—Ka something..."

"Kazumi. Wow, didn't think you'd actually remember, well somewhat remember at least."

"With how much you complain about her, who wouldn't? But let me guess what she did to aggravate you this time."

"Go on. No guarantee that there'll be a prize for that though."

"She ditched a group project discussion again? Or she claims she's too busy to complete her part of the project when in reality she's going on parties and all that?"

"Mix of both actually, so congrats! No prize for you though."

"Aww. And here I thought you'll reward me for being a good friend."

"Argh, I should ask Takeomi or Benkei to intimidate her into actually taking this group project seriously or something..."

"Why ask them when you have your number one ride or die partner next to you to do so?"

"What'll you do? Intimidate her with the 20 rejections you've gotten? Pfft, she might even make that 20 become 21 before you intimidate her."

"I thought we swore to never talk about that ever again 💢"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who's grateful to you for bringing him his lunch to his shop whenever he leaves it at home and enjoys groans whenever you nag to him about the importance of not skipping any meals

"Guess some things will never change, huh?"

"Huh? Oh, is that my lunch?"

"No, no, it's my supper."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny [name]."

"I deserve more credit for making sure you don't skip your meals."

"Is that so? Would you like me to get on my knees and thank you? I can certainly do that."

"You and your cheesy lines... when will you learn to remember to bring your own lunch to work? You're pulling off the same shit you did back when we were in highschool."

"Maybe I just like your meals better than mine..."

"...??!... That... That still isn't an excuse for you to not bring along something to eat, dumbass. What would you do if I decide not to check in on you, hm?"

"Probably starve to dea-"

-smacks his head-

"Oww??? Alright, alright, sorry I guess, 'mom'. I won't purposely skip my meals ever again..."

"Good... next time, just... ask if you want me to cook extra for you."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who notes how you start to stand one arm's length away from him whenever you're with him, and when he asks you about it, becomes visibly distraught to hear you say he reeks of cigarette smoke

"Hey... why're you standing so far away from me? Don't tell me you came over to my shop just to see me work from a distance now.."

"You just stink, that's all."

"What??!? I definitely don't stink. I took a shower this morning, and I'm not covered in grease or anything..!!"

"It's that smokey smell that's always lingering around you. Y'know, because you like to smoke every now and then.."

"Huhh?!? What're you saying!!"

"Don't tell me you don't reek of cigarettes Shin. It's blatantly obvious, I can probably even smell you from a mile away like this."

"WHAT?!? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THIS EARLIER???"

"Because I didn't want you to make you self-conscious, stupid! Besides, it's not like I can force you to stop smoking or anything.."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who slowly stops smoking as much as he used to, especially around you so that you wouldn't be disturbed by his smell and stay close to him

"Huh?"

"What is it?"

"Eh... it's nothing important."

"Oh come on, you clearly have something to say. Cat got your tongue or something? Taken aback by my good looks?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say. You just... smell different, that's all."

"Is smell all you care about? What are you, a dog?"

"Fuck you."

"Yes please."

"Wha-?!?!"

"I'm joking." (He wasn't really)

"And I probably smell good because I put on this new cologne I got."

"Pfft, to mask off the fact that you're a smoke addict?"

"Hey! Might I inform you that I haven't picked up a cigarette for the past two weeks now."

"Really? Wow, I'm surprised. What made you stop?"

"You. Well, more precisely, you avoiding to get close to me because I stink."

"...?!?" (You were speechless and flustered)

childhood friend! Shinichiro who gets jealous upset when his friends flirt with you right in front of his face, not knowing that they're doing this to get him riled up enough and grow balls to finally confess to you

T: "Say, [name], you got a boyfriend or anything?"

"..?!?! Wha- Why're you asking her that-"

T: "What? Can't a man be curious? Besides, no boyfriend would be pleased if their girlfriend is hanging out with her 'guy' friend and his siblings 24/7."

"Very funny Take-chan. If that's your logic, then I believe you already have your answer."

B: "That's suprising. I was sure a pretty girl like you would have many guys chasing for you."

"...! I'm flattered, Keizo-kun. But I doubt that's the case, haha."

"Oi, you guys, stop bugging her like this..."

T: "Ya'know, I'm pretty sure most girls like strong guys, right? Shin's pretty weak to stay by your side."

"Oi-"

T: "But, he makes it up with his charm and caring side, so I guess you have it good [name]."

W: "Well, that's Shin-chan for ya, so you don't have to worry about him not treating you right, [name]. But if he doesn't, you cant count on us to beat him up for you."

"I.... wow, okay...?"

"?!? Oi, you guys!!? Now you're scaring me!!"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who confronts you one day, telling you all about how his friends and family keep on teasing him about how you and him should date and how he also really liked the idea of that

"Hahaha! Really? Manjiro did that?? I can't believe I missed that!"

"It's painful y'know! Can't believe he's only 12 years old and pulling off roundhouse kicks like that. And to my face too!"

"Well, what'd you do this time?"

"Wha-?!? I can't believe you're so quick to take his side. Both you and Emma."

"What can I say? Both him and Emma are my favourite Sanos after all."

"Gasp After all these years, you're choosing them over me?!? I'm disappointed, [name]. I thought you knew better 😔"

"Cry about it then."

"Mean..."

"But he must have a reason for doing that to you though, right?"

"I mean... it's kind of stupid, really."

"Oh? Do tell whatever the reason for the 'invincible Mikey' to roundhouse kick you. And for Emma to take his side on the matter."

"Ah... they're just mad that I apparently haven't made you my girlfriend yet."

"Huh??"

"I know, stupid, isn't it? They both have been bugging me about this for years now, claiming that they 'want you to be their actual sister'. What's worse is that gramps has the same sentiment as them too."

"Seriously? Sano-sensei as well?"

"Yup. He says he doesn't mind having you as his "granddaughter-in-law" and that you're the only person I ever truly listen to. Bullshit by the way."

"Is it it really though?"

"That's not the point. Hell, even the guys are teasing me for not making it official with you yet. Bugging me about it whenever we hangout, saying that if I don't act soon, they'll steal you away from me."

"I-.... wow... I guess that explains what happened the last time we hung out."

"Yeah, sorry if their words bothered you."

"No, no it's fine. But I'm just wondering... what do you think about all this?"

"Huh?"

"Like.... with everyone bugging you, and well me about this, what are your thoughts on us dating?"

"...?!?... I guess.... I don't mind that..."

"Really? I'm glad then."

"Huh? What do you mean."

"I guess I don't mind us dating as well."

".....Wait..., so are you saying I can be your boyfriend?!?! Really?!?"

"Yes! I'm saying you can be my boyfriend, and I can be your girlfriend, idiot."

"I'm actually so happy right now I could literally kiss you."

"Then do it, Shin. Who's gonna stop you?"

a/n: i love him so much oml, thinking about writing longer fics about some of these scenarios

m.list

[noneorother]

All the music you didn’t hear: The Good Omens soundtrack is lying to you. *Part 1*

The Bonkers Meta Series part 2: Electric Boogaloo.

I so rarely get a chance to misuse my experience in classical music, but here we are. When I realized on my most recent watch-through of the series that the David Arnold score was brilliant, but also really wonky in some parts and I couldn’t put my finger on why, @embracing-the-ineffable suggested I listen to the album soundtrack to compare.

And when I tell you what I found hidden in there, you’re going to need Eccles cakes...

1) The Song is the Clue

So right up top we have this banger. The 12th track on the album is the orchestral backdrop to the scene in the Job minisode where Aziraphale reveals Crowley’s crow/goats. The duration is 2:22 (the only track with multiples on the album), and if you look at the track by itself it doesn’t mean much. But the song just before it is actually from this fucking scene:

You know, the one where there’s a song that’s a clue to a mystery. Except Clue is capitalised, and Aziraphale pronounces it. I’ve seen guesses that this is a reference to the movie Clue, but I would put a lot of money on the fact that we are supposed to read the title of the song currently playing at that moment in the show *as a Clue*, which is super convenient, because the word Clue is capitalized in the track listing. 

Seems like the overlords of Good Omens have a message for us : The song is the Clue. It’s what God wants. Cool cool cool. WHAT SONG?

2) Symmetry in all things 

Before I straight up tell you, we have to go back and look at season 1.

Now I’m far from the first to notice tons of parallels between the story, details and even lines in both seasons. It got me thinking that maybe there are some fun synch-up parallels between the two season’s soundtracks, seeing as they are both 6 episodes long. Here’s the end of S1 and then S2

Oh that’s a bummer, I thought to myself. 

They don’t even add up to the same number, or playtime, and neither of them is exactly 60 tracks. But do you want to hear a secret? S2 is actually missing 3 tracks on the album. And because there are 2 discs in S2 (cute), the numbers of the tracks start over again from 1. Remember how much God likes sevens? Check out where all the weirdness is happening in disc 2 (I’ve added the missing track listings in red to add context):

After checking each track with the show and listening side by side (for reasons that will become clear in another post) I can definitively say that there is something *very weird* going on at the end of episode 4. 

First is track 7, Zombie dressing room, which seems to actually reach over two distinct scenes of the photo evidence in the dressing room and then Shax in hell even though it only has one title.

But *between* these two scenes we get an eerily silent wine date with Aziraphale & Crowley.

There’s really no music or even sound here besides the dialogue and room tone (until after the cheers), and it seems like a very intentionally silent version of a ritz date from season 1.

My best guess is that we are supposed to divide that track into two tracks of 7, before and after the date to get a second track 7. Or maybe the silent one is missing music? The third track number 7 is the weirdest one. It’s this scene here, when Nina parks her bike, and Aziraphale parks the car at the end of S2E4.

If you take a close listen to the music, it’s a jaunty little piece, with an oom-pah base in 3 ⁄ 4 time. The thing is, this music does not exist in any Good Omens album. Please feel free to correct me, but I’ve tried to find any part of any song that this could even be a reprise of, and I Shazammed it to be sure it wasn’t anything else. This song does not exist anywhere except in this scene. (It quickly morphs into a reprise of the original theme once Nina leaves Aziraphale). It’s an invisible song.

So we have 3 tracks at the end of S2E4: a long one, a silent one and an invisible one. Only one of which is numbered 7, but that all fit into that place in the track listing.

Which, when we add the two extras to the original total of fifty-nine we get... sixty-one! Hey wait a minute.

How are we going to get to 62?

3) The real missing track. 

So the real reason we had to go back to the S1 album was because it contains the missing track that God is talking about. Let’s compare the last tracks on each album.

I’ve highlighted the mismatch between the in-show music and the album in S2, which means I had to add A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square back into the S2 album because guess what, it’s not in the S2 album. Even though it plays in the show. 

You want to know how not in the album it is? Amazon had to track it in the show as a season 1 song. They had to give Tori Amos credit for her song on Good Omens in the X-ray bonus features because that’s how not in the album this song is.

So my fellow beings, if the song is the Clue, then It’s what God Wants.

And if God wants a happily ever after with Aziraphale and Crowley on their own side, then by Job, I think Neil is going to give it to her.

-----------

And there's more where that came from! Part 2 coming shortly.

[madaqueue]

Another Year Older

pairing: choso kamo x f!reader

themes/content: language, fluff. smoking, kissing, pet names (babe, baby), choso gets a tattoo of your name. 18+, MDNI

word count: 1.3k

a/n: happy birthday to me here’s some fluffy choso content as a treat :)

The soft sounds of birds chirping outside your window registers in your ears as you slowly awake to the feeling of warm arms wrapped around your body. As you reach up to rub sleep out of your eyes, the man beneath you stirs, adjusting his hold to rub your back.

“G’morning babe,” he yawns through a stretch, his morning voice soft and deep. “Happy birthday,” he says, placing a kiss on your forehead.

A smile forms on your lips as you tilt your head up to face him, his eyes low as the morning sun casts a soft glow over his cheeks. “Good morning, Cho,” you murmur, leaning up to press your lips against his. Pulling away, you place gentle kisses along the tattoo that covers the bridge of his nose, making his face scrunch up from your breath tickling his skin.

His arms tighten around you as he pulls your body on top of him, holding you against his chest. “Your presents are out in the living room,” he says softly, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” you grin, kissing his temple.

You never much cared for your birthday, the day serving mostly as a reminder that your life was passing you by, another year gone. Even when you were younger you felt this way, surrounded by others at the parties your parents put on for you, the gifts and cake and balloons covering the tables only left you feeling melancholy. It was too complex of an emotion to explain at the time, but as you grew up, you finally named the dread that filled your body each year on this day. That is, until you met Choso.

You met on your eighteenth birthday, one you had tried to opt out of celebrating by telling your family you had plans with friends and friends you had plans with family. Instead, you acknowledged your official entry into adulthood by biking to the gas station near your house and buying a lottery ticket and a pack of cigarettes. With your newfound tokens of maturity in the pockets of your dirt-stained overalls, you walked to the nature reserve behind the gas station. The gravel path was lined with tall, unkempt grasses surrounding the murky ponds, benches spaced intermittently along the trail. When you decided you had sufficiently separated yourself from any other sign of civilization, you pulled the carton of cigs out of your pocket and put one between your lips.

Shit, you think to yourself as you fumble through your pockets. Of course you forgot to buy a lighter. An ironic chuckle is forced from your throat at the realization; leave it to you to manage to fuck up celebrating your own birthday.

Your gaze shifts up from the ground to search for a place to sit down when you’re suddenly met with a man on the bench in front of you. His dark hair was tied up in buns, black fringe barely covering his sunken eyes. A tattoo bridged the top of his nose, his head tilted down and his hands shoved into the pockets of his jean jacket. You freeze in your tracks, the sound of your shoes halting garnering his attention as he looks up at you.

His tired eyes slowly worked their way up your body until they met yours, a smile forming at the corners of his mouth. “Need a light?” he asked, his voice smooth and low.

You nodded, almost forgetting what you came here to do as you carried yourself over to him. Sitting next to him, his smell was intoxicating, a mix of smoke and spice that made you feel warm inside despite the cool spring air. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and flicked it, the flame igniting as he brought it to the cigarette still hanging in your mouth.

The end burned bright red as you inhaled, smoke filling your lungs. A cough erupted from your chest at the sensation, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. So much for a good first impression, you thought to yourself as you desperately took in sharp breaths.

The man next to you chuckled, something that would have normally felt so demeaning but from him felt kind. “First time?” he asked, turning his head to face you.

“Mhm,” you choked out, “turned eighteen today, figured why not.”

“Shit,” a lopsided grin forming on his lips, “happy birthday.”

Something about his smile had you blushing, warmth rushing to your cheeks. “Thanks,” you breathed out. Without understanding exactly why, you took the lit cigarette between your fingers and held it out to him, wanting to share this moment with the stranger next to you. He took it and inhaled easily, embers forming along the end as he exhaled a small trail of smoke from his lips.

A breeze suddenly passed through the trees, chilling you to your core as a shiver went up your body. Without a word, the man next to you pulled his hands out of his pockets and wrapped them around yours, sharing his warmth with you. “I’m Choso,” he said, smoke still passing between his lips as his hands held yours.

From that moment, you couldn’t forget about him, and he quickly became a constant in your life. Within months you had practically moved in together, drawn to one another by a silent understanding that even when no one else could accept who you were, the two of you would always be there for one another.

And ever since that day, Choso made a point to celebrate your birthday. Each year he quietly and thoughtfully showed his love for you, making you feel seen and appreciated in a way that only he could.

The gentle feeling of his fingers along your spine brings you back to reality as he kisses the space above your collarbone, breath hot against your skin.

“I know,” he mumbles, “I just love you s’much, I had to get you something.”

“Thank you, Cho,” you murmur, running your hands through his shoulder-length hair.

“I, um…” he trails off, grateful you aren’t able to see his cheeks begin flushing as he buries himself further into your shoulder, “I also got you something else…not in the living room.”

Tilting your head slightly, curiosity piqued, you wait for him to explain further. He pulls his away from your body slightly so you’re face to face as he looks up at you. One of his hands moves from your back to his face where he places his thumb against the middle of his lower lip. Applying a bit of pressure he pulls the plump skin down, revealing dark lettering against the red of his mouth.

As your eyes scan over it, you recognize the shape of the linework. “Choso is that…is that my name?”

Still unable to meet your eyes, he nods. “I just wanted to show you how much I love you, in a way only you will see,” he explains, releasing his hand from his mouth. “I’m yours, I have been from the day we met, and I always will be.”

“Baby,” you sigh, a smile forming on your lips, “I love it. I love you.”

His dedication to you, his love, now physically manifested before you. To him, he is yours in every way, this tattoo serving as proof of how deeply the two of you are intertwined.

You lean forward, lips crashing against his. As he opens his mouth, your tongue moves between his lips, sliding down to feel the slightly raised ink of your name. His hands return to your hips and back, tethering you to each other.

Pulling away for only a moment, he looks up at you with adoration in his eyes.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

[bettyfrommars]

A blurb of biker!Eddie posing for reader for a future painting. The painting imagery of your choice, snarky jokes about being her French girl would be icing on the cake.

Thank you so much for this ask, Angie, it made my heart happy❤️

18+Only for mature themes. wc: 892

from the I'm on Fire au

biker!Eddie x fem!artist!Reader

“Babe,” you gave Eddie a look around the side of the big canvas you had propped on a wood easel.  “You’re doing it again.”

Forever fidgeting, the man could never sit still. On the couch in front of you, Eddie rubbed his hands down his face with a groan and sat forward, placing elbows to knees.  He’s shirtless, in a pair of jeans, with his guitar resting on the floor next to him. The wash of tattoos over his chest, stomach, and arms would be a challenge, but you planned to fill those details in later.  You’d considered having him strip all the way down, but you didn’t want to traumatize Dustin’s family when they brought the baby over for a visit.  

“I never realized how hard it would be to stay in one place for so long,” he mused, running his fingers through his hair.  “How did those people in the old days do it? Just standing there.  No wonder they all look like they are all mean muggin’ or trying to take a shit.”

You put the brush down and went over to him, softly taking his chin to make him look up at you, your hand stained with charcoal and white paint flecks.  You swept the curtain of his bangs to one side with your other hand, meeting the weariness in his maplewood eyes with love and patience.  

“You’re on your bike for hours some days. This is just like that,” you tried to reason with him.

Eddie reached up to settle his hands at your hips.  “No but that’s different.  On the bike I’m moving fast and the wind is in my face, my mind is clear.  Now, all I can think about is everything I need to fix and work on in this house. I want it all to be perfect for you, for us.”  

It’d been almost six months since Eddie surprised you with the keys to the old Ferguson farmhouse, the one you’d both had your eye on for a while. Indeed, the place was over a hundred years old and needed a lot of work, but you had your paints and you had Eddie, and the rest just didn’t matter as much.  

You let go of his chin and he leaned in to plant a kiss on your stomach before tilting his chin up to meet your gaze again.  

“This is really important to me, baby,” you tucked hair behind his ear, and then untucked it, and you could feel him searching your face.  “One day, Oliver or one of the other kids will put this painting in their home to remember their uncle Eddie.  And they’ll know the person who painted it loved you more than life.”

Eddie’s arms were suddenly around your waist, pulling you down into his lap, pecking kisses all along your neck and face, making you squirm and giggle.  He was fresh out of the shower, smelling like Irish Spring; his hair air-dried and fluffy.  When he came up for air, you caught his face between your hands.  

“Please, baby. For me,” you pleaded.  “Just an hour or two a day, I know you can do this.”

“For you, I will,” his lips met yours, brushing them as he spoke, but then a smile cracked the sides of his mouth.  “I want you to paint me like one of your French girls.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you beamed, batting your eyelashes, pushing out of his lap and onto your feet.  You decided not to remind about the time you rented Titanic, and Eddie was the one with wet eyes, holding you close as if he were about to lose you to the frigid, dark waters.  He held you so tight that night in bed, waking up every hour to check and make sure you were still there.  

When he felt you shift and knew you were awake, he’d whispered into the back of your neck: “If something ever happened to you, I don’t think I’d be able to move on.” And even though you were not privy to the mysteries the future held, you assured him that you’d both grow old together and pass away at the same time. 

Back in the art room, you brushed your hands off on your apron and got in front of the canvas.  “Okay, let’s try this again,” you picked up one of the charcoal pencils to sharpen it.  “You can have a smoke if you want, baby, just don’t move your legs.”

“Anything for you, Jack,” Eddie chirped, eager to pop a cigarette between his lips, cupping his hand over the end to light it. 

In the end, the smoldering cigarette between his fingers made it into the painting.  Legs wide, guitar propped to one side, one hand resting on his thigh, the other arm hooked around the back of the couch so he could flick the ash into an empty can of Coke.  His jeans were unbuttoned, purple scar on one side of his stomach, and he wasn’t smiling, but the light of love in his eyes was unmistakable as dark hair spilled around his shoulders.  

Decades later, Steve’s son Oliver would never tire of telling the story when people asked about the painting.  The story of a down and dirty biker named War Machine and the woman he devoted his life to.  

[incorrectbatfam]

favorite pair of bat siblings and their favorite thing to do together

Not a pair but I'm always a fan of the Tim+Steph+Cass+Duke quartet

Alfred sends them grocery shopping. Steph and Cass race shopping carts, Duke gets a $500 parmesan wheel the size of a bike tire, and Tim negotiates his way into buying a lottery ticket underaged. They're no longer allowed to go unsupervised

They once pretended they were making each other's death row meals. Steph made a rotisserie chicken, Cass baked a Happy Death Day cake, Duke blended a smoothie bowl 'cause the girls were taking up all the stove space, and Tim opened a can of Arkham-brand slop and called it a day

The first time they meet Duke's girlfriend, Izzy, the girls hit it off instantly and within 15 minutes get all of his embarrassing We Are Robin stories. Tim takes notes. Very very detailed notes

Steph's New Year's resolution is to finish a TV show before anyone can spoil it. Tim, Cass, and Duke's resolution is to watch everything before her. Duke puts everything on 2x speed, Cass screenshots major moments, and Tim hacks Netflix to get new episodes early

Steph used to work retail and they won't let her live down the time she, as a customer, used her customer service voice on a cashier

Tim's phone doesn't have a QR reader. If he needs to access one in public, the other three will do a thing where one scans it while the rest two pretend to and they make him guess

Cass is really passionate about making tiny ballet slippers for rats so they get an equal chance to learn it and ropes the other three into her sewing circle. Damian sometimes helps too

They get an underwater speaker for the sole purpose of playing the Jaws theme while Bruce is in the pool

Alfred creates a swear jar for each kid. Everyone expects Jason to fill it first, but it's actually Duke after he stubs his toe. Second is Steph, then Cass in sign language, and finally Tim when his coffee ran out

Alfred collects the money and gives it to Selina for safekeeping, who wires it back to Tim who adds a new living room to the house. Duke blueprints, Steph and Cass pick the furniture, and they slowly build it whenever they get a break. It's not hidden or anything, but somehow no one noticed an entire room that wasn't there before

They have a shared Spotify account. Some of their playlists: POV it's 1998 and you're terrified of growing up, Songs for when you wanna bite styrofoam, How to use a stapler, and Holy Fucking Bingle

[tomtenadia]

Detours to you - 19

Hello all,

I am off on holidays to Lisbon tomorrow for a few days to celebrate my bday so I will leave you with a new chapter. It's Maya's bday too (she is a January girl like me).

Hope you will enjoy the fluff

MASTERLIST

A week elapsed and Maya’s birthday had finally arrived. They had waited until the Saturday for the celebrations and Aelin had closed the shop for a day so they could host the party there. They had invited her parents, Lys and Aedion, Elide was coming on her own since Lorcan was on shift, a few kids from the school that Maya liked and Rowan had the day off but was on call. Aelin just hoped nothing would interrupt the day. He needed a day of celebrations. His week had been hellish. She had accompanied him to the funeral of his three firefighters and had seen how broken he had been. Rowan had been grieving and had been so busy with the investigation that she worried about him. 

Now he was at home with Maya while she was at the bookshop getting it ready for the party.

They had gone for a mix theme of hockey and space. Rowan had started teaching her basic astronomy with the telescope he had gifted her and Maya had fallen in love with it.

A knock came at the front door and she saw her parents. Aelin invited them in with a hug “Hi mum, and dad.”

“Hi Aelin, where’s the birthday girl?”

“Rowan will bring her here as soon as I gave him the okay that the shop is ready.”

Evalin walked around the shop and looked at the decorations “This looks lovely.”

Rhoe looked at the space decorations and Aelin walked up to him “Rowan had been teaching her about the stars.”

“I know,” her father added “She is actually teaching me all about it now.”

Aelin laughed “she is teaching me too.”

“I brought a lot of biscuits and a cake too.” Added Evalin, showing her daughter the box she was carrying. 

Aelin grabbed the containers with food and placed them on the table that they had set up..

“Mum she will love your cake, it has the perfect level of chocolate.”

Evalin laughed “I also have a box for Rowan. I know he is not a fan of sweets so I made him the orange oatmeal biscuits that he loves so much.”

Aelin thanked her mother and she knew that she had always had a special place in her heart for Rowan.

Lysandra, Aedion and Elide arrived not long after together with the other few guests. She had texted Rowan that it was time to bring Maya. When later on he texted her that they had parked the car and walking to the shop, the group had switched off the lights and got ready for the surprise.

Rowan walked with his daughter on his hand and at the shop, he used the key Aelin had given him. As soon as they were inside, the darkness got replaced by a starry sky and slowly the people appeared and Aelin walked to her daughter and Rowan was at her side “Happy birthday, Maya.”

Maya hugged them both and then looked at the stars “mama your shop has stars.”

“Yes, baby, do you like it?”

“I love it so much.”

Slowly they turned up the lights and allowed her to see all the guests.

“Nana.” Maya ran to her grandparents.

“Happy birthday, my love, you are a big girl now.”

“Yes, nana I am six.” She proudly lifted her fingers.

Aelin encouraged the kids to gather in the children section where they had created a corner for them. She had also organised a story telling session with cake after the presents. But most of all, she was looking forward to see the present she got from her and Rowan. They had bought her first bike. She knew Maya was going to love it.

Rowan walked to her side “you have done a wonderful job with the bookshop. The starry sky  is perfect.”

Aelin leaned her head against his shoulder “You should see my mum’s hockey themed cake.”

“She will feel like the queen of the world today.” His arms wound around Aelin’s waist and pulled her closer “she is definitely my princess.”

“I found this young lady running around, does anyone know her?” Aedion was carrying Maya potato sack style and the girl giggled at her uncle antics “Dad save me, the dragon has taken me.”

Rowan laughed and followed the two, pretending to fight Aedion while he growled.

One of the mums walked at her side “He is so good to her.”

Aelin nodded while sipping her juice.

“You know that at school he has won the title of DILF, right?”

Aelin knew. The news had reached her and a lot of the mums had a crush on him. It had pissed her off to no end and she had been jealous too. Just as she was jealous of Lyria. The whole relationship between them was still very frail, they had not set on a label but she wanted to be possessive. Rowan was hers.

“I know and I hate it.”

“My husband was their target until Rowan came up. I know how you feel.”

“I hate them and that Remelle woman and her son caused so much grief to Maya.”

The woman gave a nervous laugh “I had my running ins with Remelle. She almost messed up my marriage with her lies.”

“Mama, we are opening presents!” Maya walked to her grabbing her hand to drag her where all the presents were gathered. 

The adults they all sat down and Aelin took Maya where all the gifts were, and started to hand out all the parcels. 

“Ok birthday girl, let’s open up a few present, shall we?”

Maya started jumping up all excited “Yes! Yes! I want the presents!”

They started with the ones from her school friends then it was then time of Elide and Lorcan who had bought her a pass for the observatory and then a limited edition jersey of the Stags. Maya ran to hug Elide. Lorcan could not be present because he was working  “Thank you auntie Elide. I love it.” 

“Mama, can I wear it?”

“Not yet, after cake maybe but not now. We don’t want to ruin it with chocolate.”

“Ok.”

Aelin placed the item of clothing aside and grabbed a present she knew was from Aedion and Lysandra. They had gifted her a super special edition book of Terrasen folktales and then her own hockey stick with the Stags colours.

Maya screamed happily and grabbed her stick swinging as if she was playing “I am playing hockey!”

They all laughed and Maya kept playing happily until Rowan pulled her back to attention for her grandparents presents who had given her a tent for her bedroom that had a space theme and then a projector for her bedroom so she could project the sky in her room.

“Nana and I thought they would be nice for the days you can’t go out in the garden. So you can have the sky in your room.”

Maya ran to her grandparents and hugged them tightly “Thank you.”

“Come on now, you have the last one from us.”

Maya walked back to her parents and Aelin and Rowan sat down beside her and Aelin handed her a small packet. When she struggled Rowan helped her opening it and she looked at her present with a curious face. Rowan lifted the passes “Maya, this is a ticket for a special event the Stag are doing and meeting the fans.”

Maya looked at her dad with big green eyes “Dorian too?”

Rowan caressed her face “yes baby, we are going to meet all the Stags again.”

She threw herself at her dad and Aelin moved closer brushing her back. They remained in silence while they cuddled their daughter then Rowan pulled back “we have one last surprise for you.” He passed Maya to her mum and walked at the back of the shop. When he came back he was pushing a green bicycle and Maya ran to him “Is it for me?”

“Of course,” he grabbed her hand and helped her sit on. The bike still had stabilisers and Rowan showed her how to use the pedals and within minutes Maya was cycling, with a fussy Rowan hovering over her.

“I think you guys topped her presents. Aeds and I tried to give her a cool one.”

“Lys, your presents were great as well.”

Lysandra stared at Rowan with Maya “He is so cute with her.”

Aelin nodded.

“So, are you getting married next?”

She chuckled “Elide asked me the same thing a while ago.”

“Because you both have made some strides and are improving, that is the next logical step.”

Aelin was silent for a moment “As I said to El, we are not there yet. For now, let’s all concentrate on your wedding.”

“Mama look, I am cycling.”

Aelin looked at her daughter on her bike and smiled. Rowan had approached her one day saying that Maya had mentioned about having a bike like the other kids. He said that he wanted to teach her and Aelin had agreed. She loved that Rowan had involved her too after the hockey classes fiasco. Classes that were going to start next week and their daughter was the most excited person ever. 

“You are doing so well, Maya.”

They were all in the middle of having cake when Rowan’s radio became alive. Everyone fell silent and he grabbed it running away to a quiet corner.

Aelin watched him with a tightness in her chest. She knew he was on call and that if an emergency happened he’d have to leave. She just hoped that for one day Orynth would have no drama so he’d be able to celebrate his daughter’s birthday in peace. It was the first one for him and she wanted it to be special for both.

He came back at the front and she knew from his face that it was not good. She had forgotten how easily she could read his expressions “What is it?”

“I need to go. I am sorry.”

Aelin hugged him tightly “Be careful, please.” A soft whisper against his neck, the scent of pine and snow soothing her soul “Come back to me. To us.”

Rowan kissed her on her lips and pulled back, kneeling in front of Maya “I have to go to work and help people.” His heart broke at Maya’s wobbly lip “I will see you later at home, baby.”

Maya threw her arms around him and softly sobbed.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

Rowan then forced himself to stand and take a step towards the door. He cast a last glance at the party and then walked out in a run.

Aelin watched Rowan go.

There was an ache in her chest. An ancient fear rising in her. It was the anguish she had felt when he was on active duty and a regular firefighter. Waiting for him to come home after his shift and knowing he was safe. Aelin had accepted the dangers of his job the day she had confessed him she was in love with him. 

Gods, she loved him. She had to tell him. She let him go to his job without telling that she loved him.

Aelin prayed Mala to bring him back to her.

I will come back to you.

taglist

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[into-deepspace]

Hello! Hope you're having a great day!

May I request for Rafayel's reaction when MC comes out as non-binary? It's something that's never left my head since I started playing lnds. I can't help but worry if it'd change things for him even though I know it won't (insecurity did a number on me🥹). What if MC wanted to present themes as masc/femme? How would he react?

Sorry if this is too long and complicated and I understand if you don't want to write for this but if you do write it it'd mean the world to me. Thank you for reading this ask🌸🌸

aaa of course!!! dw it wasn't long or complicated at all! i had a lot of fun writing this, and i rlly hope i did rafayel justice here <33 i feel like it ended awkwardly but ah what can u do. anywayyyy:

as you are

rafayel/mc • nonbinary mc • 1.6k • ao3 link requests open, reblogs appreciated! mild hurt/comfort || coming out || tooth-rotting fluff || established relationship

MC stares at themselves in the mirror fixing their hair nervously. In twenty minutes, they’re meeting Rafayel at a cafe, one of their favourites. They’d made the plans several days ago, and have been nervously thinking through every possibility ever since. After all, coming out, no matter who it’s to, is nerve wracking.

“I need to talk to you,” they’d sent him, late in the evening when both of them really should have been asleep. Despite the late hour, typing bubbles immediately popped up from Rafayel’s end. He sends a sticker of a distressed yellow bird, then a message.

Rafayel, 11:48 PM are u breaking up with me :(

A bit frantic, MC typed back a quick response. Of course Rafayel, ever dramatic, would assume the worst.

MC, 11:48 PM No omg?

Rafayel, 11:48 PM DUN SCARE ME LIKE THAT THEN???? Those are FIGHTING WORDS. fighting words i tell u!!

MC sighed, but couldn't help but laugh a bit. It was never a dull moment with him around, one of the things they have always loved about him. They explained that no, they're not breaking up with him, but they did have something a little more serious they needed to talk with him about.

Rafayel, 12:03 AM okayyyy spill the beans cutie wait no serious I Am Prepared To Listen To Your Words. Please Begin.

MC, 12:04 AM Actually, i wanted to talk in person Can we meet @ our usual cafe on saturday

They waited nervously for Rafayel's response, picking at a stray thread in their blanket. But as usual, they had nothing to worry about

Rafayel, 12:05 AM ofc ofc ill buy u a tea and a cake and we can talk <3

They couldn't help but smile at their phone. He was always so sweet, so ready to adjust and accommodate. They just hope he’ll be the same way about this new revelation.

Now, MC has been going by their chosen name for a long while, so long that most people don’t even know the name they were given at birth. They’ve always presented a little more [femme/masc] than their peers, and Rafayel didn’t seem to mind any of that. If anything, he encouraged it, saying that the way they expressed themselves was art in it of itself. But would this, their coming out, be a piece of the puzzle that he wasn’t okay with?

MC sighs, smoothing their clothes one last time and telling themselves that they really do need to get going. Sitting here and stewing in their anxieties isn’t going to make anything better. They grab their bike helmet and make their way down to the street, setting off.

An uneventful drive later, they arrive at the cafe and park, fixing their hair in their phone camera after they take their helmet off. It seems Rafayel hasn’t arrived yet, which means they can go in and order for themselves. Usually, they’re fine with Rafayel paying for their treats, but what if he’s upset this time? What if he realizes he’s spent money on someone he can’t accept.

Just as they’re pulling their card from their wallet to pay for their drink and pastry, an arm wraps around their waist and lips press against their cheek, startling them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Rafayel says, tone light and joking as he slips their wallet from their hands, tucking it back into their pocket. Ignoring their protests, he turns to the person at the register. “Add a vanilla iced coffee to that please, with… hm, six sugars.” MC can only watch as his drink is added to the total and he slots his card into the reader, looking pleased with himself.

Rafayel takes their hand and walks them over to a table by the window, pulling out their chair for them with a dramatic flourish. Normally, MC would laugh at his antics, but they’re too nervous right now to manage anything more than a tight smile. Rafayel, of course, notices right away.

“What’s wrong, cutie?” he asks, taking their hands as he kneels in front of their chair. MC takes a shaky breath, trying to school their expression into something at least neutral.

“I’m okay,” they say. “I promise.” For a moment, Rafayel tilts his head and searches their face. Then, with a sigh, he stands, pressing a kiss to their knuckles as he does.

“Okay,” he smiles. “We’ll talk once you’ve got something tasty to keep you company, okay?” This prompts a smile, a little more real this time, from MC.

“Okay,” they whisper.

Ever the gentleman, Rafayel goes to retrieve their order, tasting his own drink before adding two more pumps of sugary syrup to it and sprinkling cinnamon across the top. He comes back to their table, setting MC’s portion in front of them. They taste their own drink and nod in satisfaction, cutting a piece of their pastry to place into their mouth.

“Do you want some?” they ask, offering a forkful to Rafayel. With an easy smile, he waves away their question.

“Nah,” he says. “This here is sweet enough.” He shakes his drink, the ice in it rattling as specks of cinnamon swirl around. MC nods, taking the bite for themselves.

They let themselves savor the moment for a bit before speaking. After all, they don’t know if this is something they’ll ever have again. They make their way about halfway through the pastry before they take another long sip of their drink and fold their hands in their lap.

“I have something I need to tell you,” they say, before they can lose their resolve. “...Please don’t be upset with me.” Rafayel smiles, reaching across the table with his palm up, gesturing for their hand. MC obliges, tangling their fingers together, and Rafayel squeezes reassuringly.

“I won’t be,” he promises. “You can tell me anything. I swear.”

MC takes a deep breath. They appreciate that he’s putting his usual jokes and quips aside, sensing the nervous gravity of the moment, but it almost makes them even more anxious. Biting their lip, MC decides it’s better to rip the metaphorical band-aid off in one go.

“I’m nonbinary,” they say simply. “And I’m sorry I’ve been keeping this from you.”

Rafayel blinks for a moment, silent. MC feels their eyes sting.

“What?”

“Uh.” Out of all the scenarios they’d mentally prepared for, this wasn’t one of them. “You know,” they begin, “like, I’m not a guy, but I’m also not a girl. It’s-”

“No, I know what nonbinary means, silly,” Rafayel grins. “Why would you ever think I’d be upset at you over this?” MC feels the sting in their eyes become welling moisture, and Rafayel scrambles to drag his chair around to their side of the table and pull them into a tight embrace.

“I thought you were gonna tell me that you were moving away, or that you lost your job or something!” he says, rocking them back and forth, gently, slowly. With a shaky breath, MC tucks their face into Rafayel’s shoulder, smiling to themselves. But he’s not done, continuing as he pulls them tighter.

“And if you come to me tomorrow and say you feel some other way, or that you want to change your name or buy new clothes or change your hair, that’s okay! MC, I love you no matter what. I promise, something like this is never ever going to come between me and you.” They’re full on sobbing now, the relief that comes with acceptance and the lovely promises spilling from Rafayel’s lips making all sorts of emotions surge in their chest.

Rafayel pulls back, cupping their face with one hand and wiping their tears away with the other. He smiles, a radiant and loving thing, and MC can’t help but give a breathy, relieved laugh as he leans in to place light little kisses along their cheeks.

“I don’t know why I was so nervous,” MC admits. “You never did anything to make me worried about this.” Rafayel shrugs.

“It’s a big thing to tell someone,” he says. “I’m proud of you. I know this took a lot.”

“It really did,” MC acknowledges. Rafayel ruffles their hair affectionately before scooting his chair back over to his side, keeping one of MC’s hands in his own.

“Okay, okay,” he says, buzzing with energy now that the serious moment is waning. “Finish your pastry and then we can go shopping.” MC blinks, surprised.

“We weren’t planning on going-”

“Uh-uh!” Rafayel cuts in, waving a hand in their face and startling a laugh from them. “Shhhh, we’re going shopping. You wanna go buy pretty things with me soooo bad. You would never think of saying no to this lovely face of mine.”

“Oh, my god,” MC laughs, nearly dropping their fork. “You’re so dramatic.” In response, Rafayel gives a pleased smile and makes a motion as if flicking hair behind his shoulder. MC shakes their head good naturedly, taking another bite of their pastry.

They do, in fact, end up out in the shops, and Rayafel buys them a jacket they’ve been eyeing for a long while. The two of them swing their intertwined hands between them as they walk, enjoying each others’ presence. It’s late in the evening by the time they decide to part ways, and even then, Rafayel convinces MC to sleep over at his house.

A couple hours later, laying in bed, MC watches Rafayel’s sleeping face with a soft smile. They never thought they’d be lucky enough for a relationship like this.

[idv-news-boi]

-> Questions to get to know an IDV OC!

{written by Laurence :D}

{If you ever read this part, I’m intended to put all this questions in one list just to write down notes about OCs who respond some of them,,, This is maybe one way how Laurence learns about his peers-/ih}

Theme

🔤// What’s the meaning of their name? Did they ever questioned why did they got the name? Would they like to change it?

💼// They have occupations, but what was their original occupation they wanted to be at first?

💵// What social class are they in?

🇺🇸// What’s their nationality? (if is a fictional place, it counts too!) How much do they know their homecountry’s history? What city/state were they born in?

🖊️// How does their handwriting look like when they write their journals/letters/notes?

⚠️// From 1-10, how hostile are they? (1 is Pure Friendly, 2-3 is Passive, 4-6 is Neutral, and 7-10 is Hostile. You can also describe the extent if necessary)

🗄️// What are their greatest fears? (Be honest, or I’ll emphasize the no fear to one fear meme-/hj/ih)

📺// What time period are they stuck in mentally? (*looks at Mary who most likely was from the French Revolution and never aged after death somehow-/ih*)

📔// How old are they physically and mentally?

Childhood Story

🎉// Do you celebrate your birthday? How do you celebrate it? If no, would you like your birthday to be celebrated by friends still?

💫// What are/were their dreams?

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦// How many people do they have in their family? If none, how did they to live as an orphan/foster kid?

👨‍👩‍👧// Tell me anything about their parents (occupation, personality, talents, the way they raise you, etc.)

⏱️// Is their family system strict or not? How do their relatives interact with each other?

🧸// What was their first toy?

📚// Did they went to school? Got mentored at home? How is it?

🚲// Have they ever learned how to ride a bike? When? How?

Food

🥪// What’s their favorite food?

🍎// What’s their favorite fruit? Can they see themselves becoming their favorite fruit?

🥦// Do they eat their veggies?

🌮// Do they love their national food dishes? Which one is their favorite?

🍱// How would their lunch box/bento look like?

🍕// Do they prefer putting pepperoni on the pizza, or pineapple? (If is other, you can name it!)

🍜// Did they eat ramen before? Do they like it? What unique habits do they have when eating ramen?

🍽️// How would they usually eat? And when would be the times when they get hungry?

🥄// Do they eat 3 times a day? Or they usually follow a different kind of eating routine other than breakfast, lunch, snack, and dinner?

🍴// What weird habits do they have when they eat?

🎂// What kind of cake do they love so much? (ex=Chocolate-flavored, creamy, fondant, with fruit, chocolate sign, etc. any kind of details.)

Aesthetic

✨// What kind of style represents them? (Aesthetic)

🎶// What kinds of songs represent them? Can you give us some example?

👘// What’s their favorite costume? Favorite artifact?

🧵// What fashion brands would they most likely use?

Love {Ship Category}

🔮// Do they believe in love horoscopes? Prophecies? Soulmates?

💝// Would they remember important dates and anniversaries for their romantic partner?

💋// How do they kiss their partner?

🫂// What are their ways of showing affection?

💝// How do they describe their love for their partner?

💘// Are they willing to take a bullet for them?

💔// Are they most likely to break up with their partner eventually?

Hobby

🤟// What languages do they speak? What language would they like to learn next?

🩰// Do they like to dance? How would their dance emote look like?

📖// How often do they read books? Favorite genre? Do they read news, too?

🏈// What sport do they play? {IDV Sport Event based}

🧳// What items would they bring for a 1 week journey?

✈️// Would they like to travel somewhere? To what countries?

👝// When shopping, are they a money spender or money saver? Do they like buying cheap, or get luxurious? What items do they actually seek for as a customer?

Random

🎥// What are their thoughts on Akihiko? Would they accept his mochi gift as a good acquaintance?/ih

📰// What are their thoughts on Laurence? Would they tolerate his talkative, silly nature?

📆// Are you alright if people drops holidays that remind them of your muse?

❓// What are your thoughts on {insert anyone’s OC}? Do you get along? Would you stay calm for at least 30 minutes in a room with them?/ih

[chasm2018]

Harry is THIRTY! We can hardly believe it. To process our feelings we’re throwing a themed birthday party.

(x) This weekend, 3-4 February, @chasm2018 will be looking back at how Harry (and by association, we) spent his 30th year on earth. What a year it was! With awards, shows, yachts, Lime bikes and more, this has been a year to remember. Join us for the top 30 gifs, pics and clips from this past year as well as plenty of cake. We hope you enjoy these #30ForHarry’s30th.

As always @harolinastyles, @ihearthes and @chasm2018 are happy to take any suggestions for themes and of course if you'd like to join us then please reach out!

[pinkcreamypeach]

When Peonia was younger, Queen peach and her celebrated Princess Day, a special day where Princess Day activities could include:

* Dress-up and costume contests

* Tea parties with cake and sandwiches

* Crafts and games like "pin the crown on the princess"

* Storytelling and reading princess themed books

* Watching classic Disney movies about princesses

* Playing with princess-themed dolls and toys

* Having a picnic with a princess-themed menu

* Going on a princess-themed scavenger hunt

* Making and decorating princess crowns

Peach loves her daughter, and it was clear that she had always wanted to become a mother. Even after the birth of her brother Molise, they continued to engage in mother-daughter activities together,often involving Peonia's brother as well. As Peonia grew older, however, their activities shifted to focus more on sports. Peach taught her daughter how to race when she was just 11, which could be considered a little reckless, but it was something that Peonia enjoyed. Enjoying the freedom of being treated like an adult. The ladies would ride bikes together until she hit her preteens, where she learned how to ride a motorcycle as well. While being safe and cautious, she would set up tracks and roads free of any vehicles. Mario and Molise would always watch from the cameras, happy and content.While Mario loved his daughter's adventurous spirit, Molise wanted to try his hand at riding a motorcycle as well. After all, her mother was an experienced rider, and he wanted to be just like her!Despite being only six years old, Molise showed a bossy side that resembled some of his mother's personality. He liked tagging along with Mario and trying to act like a king, even though He was much too young to take on that role.

Molise looked up to his big sister Peonia, admiring her adventurous and Too-Cool for school attitude. The two siblings enjoyed chatting about their interests and would sometimes talk about drama, with Peonia using age-appropriate language so that her brother could understand. Molise created a whole "prince club" and his plan to find a Yoshi to ride and battle random dragons. While Peonia knew that her brother's club was just a harmless game, she couldn't resist teasing him about it. However, Peonia always made sure that her younger brother was safe from any bullying or teasing from others. She loved him deeply and enjoyed being a protective big sister. Molise found her being protective annoying, wanting to be strong like his papa.(Mario)

Annnnddd..that's all I have for today.

@bberetd @maceincognito @peaches2217

[goodluckclove]

I’m unconvinced you aren’t the Ratatouille rat in disguise with how decadently write about food.

I'm certainly rat-like in that I enjoy a tasty snackkie, and I will occasionally hide under my tall wife's hat.

Really though it's mainly me having a very strong connection to food. I taught myself how to cook when I was 12 and most of my experiences going out are going to get food or to places that sell tiny cakes.

I have very strong opinions on tiny cakes. In my opinion tiny cakes have to be exactly medium-fancy.

I mean the best part about living in Portland is the food scene. So often they have these special food-themed weeks. Burger week. Sandwich week. Wing week (I didn't go to that one). Now it's pizza week again. I got a Hawaiian pizza that had this really subtle bechamel sauce that gave the whole thing a really creamy base. The large cubes of ham were paired with sausage ground and cooked practically to the consistency of chorizo.

The reason I biked downtown to get it was because of the mango habanero aioli, which is perfect because I think Hawaiian pizza is so much better with a little kick of heat to bring out the sweetness of the pineapple (usually I only see this through jalapeno - also very good). The aioli was perfectly spicy in a way that felt almost like an Indian chutney, which maybe was the habanero. The mango gave it a perfect slight sweetness. If I had a jar of the stuff I'd put it on crackers or little slices of baguette.

Anyways describing food is fun and all the other pizzas for pizza week are usually unholy rites to hubris. Last year my now-wife brought me an IKEA meatball pizza and I couldn't leave the bathroom of my terrible studio apartment for an hour. I still do it because I enjoy weird gourmet meals at a reasonable price and I am Clove Gardener, Committee to the Bit.

It's also a fun thing for characters to dwell on. I find it endearing.

[barbieb0y]

over a slice of cake.

day 3 of scrunkly week yippee!!!!!!!!!

the theme is orange leaves! i went with the prompt sustenance mainly, but i was also inspired by all the other prompts, especially comfort.

you get the gist by now, i might as well tell you guys their ship name. my selfship with joe's name is uppercut! bc uh. paper cut + joe, big tough guy who reminds me of a fighting game character lowkey. i hope it makes sense to you guys too. anyway

Am I the incompetent one or is this cookbook not making any sense?

Joe thinks to himself, a whisk in one hand and the other hand prods the pages of a cookbook leaning against the kitchen wall. He’s diligently adhered to the instructions of a certain recipe yet the result is… simply not as ideal. Joe’s eyes flick between the picture in the book and his creation. The former has the fluff reminiscent of clouds on a sunny blue sky and its structure is as solid as a fortress. His, however, is slightly sagging and the texture itself is already crumbling when he cut out a slice for a taste test.

The taste itself is not bad, especially for a first ever attempt at baking. But the presentation is lackluster, which he obviously takes offense to. Presentation can make or break a creation, and quite literally in this case. But all he can do is sigh confusedly. Seeming as he is an amateur baker, he doesn’t think it advisable to try and fix the cake somehow. At least, that’s what his partner would tell him. In his heart, there is a desperation to try and save this cake.

Maybe thinking baking is no different to smithing was a bad assumption to make.

“Hope PC likes it anyway…”

“Hope I like what anyway?”

Joe swears he could feel the ceiling with how high he jumped from the shock. The aforementioned PC only raises an eyebrow at Joe’s strange reaction as he leans against the kitchen door-frame. There’s no hint of amusement in Paper Cut’s voice - which was the main reason why Joe made this attempt at an activity he normally wouldn’t take into consideration.

Paper Cut has been quieter than usual the last few days, which everyone knows is saying a lot. Shutting out the world is a common method for him to grab hold of his emotions but Joe worries that his lover is bottling them up instead of confronting them head on. Yet he knows best to not cross his boyfriend’s boundaries; so he thought perhaps some homemade comfort food would open a door to an honest conversation.

In theory, going the extra mile for Paper Cut is something Joe is always striving for. But in practice, that is only easy when they are on his bike together, riding off somewhere.

“Is that a sponge cake?”

It’s no secret that Paper Cut has quite the appetite (contrary to Joe’s own picky habits) and a few weeks back, he expressed his cravings for good old pastries. Buying them at bakeries has always been Joe’s go-to solution but there is a nagging inside his mind that has been telling him that he ought to try harder. And when Paper Cut resorted to going back to eating one meal a day just so he doesn’t have to be outside the guest room, Joe sprung into action.

And so the less-than-ideal Joe special was born.

“Yeah. I know it doesn’t look super appetizing–”

“What do you mean? It looks fine to me. Lemme have a slice.”

Paper Cut’s tone rises to a more lukewarm volume which ignites a small spark of hope inside Joe’s chest - it’s definitely an improvement from the icy cold shoulder he has (though unintentionally) been giving.

One slice leaves the cutting board. One very small yet very hopeful smile blooms.

“It’s good.”

Nothing more needs to be said. It’s good and he’s smiling, which is all Joe could hope for.

“I’m glad you think so. It is for you, after all.”

The smile falls from Paper Cut’s lips (to Joe’s dismay, but at least he isn’t outright frowning). He seems genuinely confused.

“For me?”

His head is tilted. It reminds Joe of a small cat. Paper Cut has joked about feeling like a stray cat that’s been taken in by a benevolent human like Joe when he moved into Joe’s place but Joe felt the comparison to be unfair to him. Paper Cut is more than a fragile stray cat that needs saving. He is a “doctor” that has saved people himself. If anything, Joe has always seen Paper Cut as the benevolent one. He doesn’t even make money doing what he does. Which is why Joe has joked, in return, that the other is a “cut above everyone”.

He’s earned a playful hit on the shoulder for it.

“I can see you’ve been feeling down lately. I didn’t wanna bother you and also you’re probably sick of outside food so I thought… I’d just make you something.”

Paper Cut is speechless. His expression is difficult to read but Joe can’t blame him for feeling conflicted, especially since he doesn’t know what he’s been fighting deep inside. So Joe will do all the talking.

“You haven’t been eating well lately. And you know if there’s one thing I don’t tolerate in this house, it’s people not getting the sustenance they oughta.”

Joe dons a serious expression. He doesn’t quite know what to say next but he believes his point is getting across well. Paper Cut’s gaze falls to his feet. Only the silent humming from the ceiling fan and the rustling of the autumn leaves outside the kitchen window fill in the space.

“...I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have shut you out like that.”

Paper Cut finally says after their ceiling fan’s third millionth rotation. Paper Cut acknowledges this as he looks upwards, though in his mind he hopes the fan’s next twirl can dry the tears that threaten to spill from the corner of his eyes.

“You’ve been nothing but kind and patient with me… which is honestly a luxury I’ve taken for granted.”

Paper Cut’s gaze stays on the fan but Joe puts a reassuring hand on his lover’s shoulder nonetheless. The latter waits patiently for his lover to continue. As he always does.

“I’ll try my best. But self-doubt can be a bitch.”

He says with an awkward laugh and he finally looks at Joe, the latter only offering a smile that can light up the whole of San Francisco. Paper Cut sighs, in an earnest attempt to leave behind his urge for isolation. He then moves to grab some tea bags and a kettle.

“...Let’s talk over a cup of tea. And some sponge cake.”

[birgittesilverbae]

thinking about the honeymoon a normal amount.

mary leaning against her motorcycle in some seaside town, sunglasses catching the light. shannon kissing her on the cheek before bundling herself into a little corner shop down near the ocean, emerging with a penguin-themed beach towel and a plastic bag filled with snacks.

biking down the coast and away from all the tourists, to a quiet spot underneath high cliffs. mary laying the beach towel out like a blanket, weighing down the corners with their motorcycle helmets and a couple of stones. stretched out and dozing while shannon goes into the water, visible out where the waves are breaking.

coming back up to kiss mary with her hands caked in sand, leaving palmprints on mary’s face.

gathering wood together and building a little bonfire, sitting wrapped in the beach towel until the ocean isn’t really visible anymore. first, the sunset falling, turning the surface of the waves to firelight on glass, then all of it swallowed up by the dark.

‘but you can still hear it,’ shannon says, her body very warm. ‘trying to climb up the beach towards us.’

‘spooky, right?’

and mary smiles because she has never felt less like the world is trying to snatch shannon out of her arms.

just the two of them, listening to the crackle of the flames, spared for this small time the memories of wraiths cracking in through space. the sight of bea’s upturned face, looking at the monsters she must always see alone. just… the wash of enormous heat and shannon still wincing a bit at the burn of hard alcohol

mary: ‘wimp’

shannon : ‘wife, actually.’

the sand underneath the embers and kicking the coals in the morning for a burst of heat. the waves a different shade in the sunrise and shannon frowning and then describing the exact color and ‘if i painted this, i’d start right there’

mary like ‘what, and leave me out of it?’

shan blushing a little before saying, ‘well, you can’t be in the painting if you’re next to me.’ lacing their fingers together and looking out towards the sea to hide the glimmer of tears.

🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

shan surfing and eating it over and over again but getting up and trying and failing and trying again and bailing out of a wave to come up fountaining seawater and grinning broadly, waving excitedly at mary and "come on in the water's great!"

mary, shading her eyes with a beaten up paperback novel and shaking her head, "fine enjoying the view from out here, actually"

tugging shannon to her by the front of her wetsuit to kiss her and shannon collapsing bonelessly in the bracket of her thighs, pillowing her head on mary's stomach, kissing the curve of mary's ribs, sighing contentedly as mary threads her fingers through her hair and reads aloud for her

[askthedales]

𝓦𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮

Ask the Dales is a multi-character OC heavy chicken run blog focusing on the humans of the Yorkshire Dales from the movie chicken run.

𝓞𝓾𝓻 𝓬𝓪𝓼𝓽

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚎

Elizabeth Rosell (Pronounced Rose-ell) A young and chipper read head, Elizabeth works at her mother’s sweetshop with her much more clinical sister Agatha. She is 17, and her favorite baked good is spice cake.

Victoria Smith

Victoria is a brilliant inventor with big dreams of advancing technology. She spends her time making up crazy inventions ranging from making her friend Deelins bike motor powered to dissembling her step fathers car. She is the same age as Eliza, the two have known each other the longest.

𝙵𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜

Vera Rushton

The Tweedys neighbor, she was always first. First to marry, first to have children, etc etc. She makes a pass time of this by rubbing it in Melisha Tweedys face, the two have an undeniable rivalry. She’s a horrible mother to her two children (Caroline and Charlie) but she somehow is able to keep a fairly clean reputation.

Caroline Rushton

Deelin, Victoria, and Elizabeth’s bully. She finds it therapeutic to pick on others, and is mildly sociopathic. She is 17, and a down right spoiled brat.

Mrs and Mr Tweedy. Willard and Melisha Tweedy, they are two farmers. They both are tragic in their own ways, and were once in ‘love’. Currently Melisha is a bitter woman with no interest in farm life, only in money. Willard is trying to keep this farm afloat, and failing each day. Deelin Tweedy

Unfortunately the child of Mr and Mrs Tweedy, Deelin is the youngest teen in the dales at 16. She is smart, clever, and clumsy always seemingly finding herself in unexpected and dangerous situations. She’s level headed, apathetic, and enjoys time away from the farm where she doesn’t have to deal with either of her parents. 𝚁𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕

H H is the town’s mysterious mortician, they are a towering height (6’6) meaner than you would expect, and is often the one handling the funerals in the dales. While strangely apathetic they have a soft spot for some, mainly those in mourning. They are Deelins piano teacher, mentor, and parental figure to her, Eliza, and Victoria. Their house is an impressive collection of anything and everything, but it’s still neat and tidy as ever

Azalea

A witch who lives in the woods, one of Deelins friends. She is not seen or spoken about much, but she often is found stealing from Tweedys farm. Run by: @darlingdeeceased

Blog is 15 plus and contains some darker themes not suitable for younger children. View discretion is advised.

[mac-lilly]

Hey ho! For the JatP asks: how about Luke, Reggie and Alex at the Hollywood Ghost Club? ;D

Heyho! Sorry that it took so long.

Luke: Are you physically affectionate?

With humans? No, not at all. Hugging is the most I can do.

However, hand me a cooperative cat, and I'll cuddle with them for hours.

Reggie: What are three things you can’t live without?

MY CATS!!! (Do they count as one or two?😅)

Laptop

Internet

(I'm a predictable nerd - I'm sorry...)

Alex: How do you relax when you’re stressed?

Depends on what's stressing me. If I have an exam or have to study, it's usually video games.

If it's work (or a video game), I have to do something analog - like a puzzle or crocheting.

Hollywood Ghost Club: What would be a perfect day for you?

Hm ... Probably get up early to do some biking. Then, stop at the bakery to get fresh bread and cake. Head back home for breakfast. And then spend the rest of the day playing video games. (Small break to order food at my favorite delivery service.)

...

Or go to another JATP-themed con (one that is well organized for a change. 🤣)

JATP asks