#i have never once regretted my half baked or finished projects

[seasaltandcopper]

if you’re looking for a sign to finally start the project or hobby you’ve been thinking about but haven’t because (insert argument about it not being profitable, taking too long, what if it never gets finished, what if it flops and no one likes it, what if i’m bad at it, this is too ambitious i’m scared i’m just wasting my time, etc etc)

this is your sign to just DO IT

start that screenplay. sketch out the first pages of that webcomic. begin the first lesson on that intro to programming class. put down the first lines of that epic novel series. whatever your jam is, just do it

life is short. happiness can be fleeting. stop waiting your whole life for the right moment to build a monument that will withstand the ages, and just sit down and make some sandcastles with me right now

[istanleyff7]

TOTP, Episode Aerith, Scenes 10-14

Final Fantasy VII Remake: Traces of Two Pasts Episode 2: Aerith Scenes 10-14 A Light Novel by Kazushige Nojima Translated by Stanley (@istanleyff7 on twitter)

Scene 10

It was the third day. The sun had set entirely, and Elmyra hadn't returned home yet. Aerith hadn't eaten anything after the bread and soup from noon. What should she do if she became any hungrier? Should she head downstairs to search for food? But suppose she did that at her convenience without asking her? In that case, Elmyra might dislike her for it — After thinking about things like that, there was an indication of the door opening.  

"It's me," the grumpy voice of Elmyra could be heard.

"I'll be prepping the food right away."

"Okayyyy."

However, there was no response. As Aerith sat down on the chair and waited quietly, the noise and the whiff from the cooking wafted over. Aerith then took out a collapsible table from the closet and set it up, imitating how Elmyra does it. Eventually, Elmyra came upstairs with a tray of a warm bean dish and bread.

"Thanks for waiting."

"Ahh!!"

Seeing Elmyra, Aerith shrieked involuntarily. A sizable plaster was stuck on her right eyebrow and the outer corner of her eye.

"I had a little fall. Don't worry about it."

After transferring the food from the tray to the table, Elmyra mumbled something from her mouth and then started eating. It seems that she doesn't want to talk about it in detail. If that's the case...

"Thank you for the food!"

Aerith started eating as cheerfully as possible.

"It's delicious!"

"It's canned food."

"Canned food is delicious."

"Whoever made it would probably be glad to hear it, perhaps."

"Who made this?"

"A Shinra factory. Well then, have your meal quietly."

After hearing that the canned food was a Shinra product, the joy in Aerith plummeted.

Without a moment's delay, Elmyra then said, "It's difficult to live without Shinra's products. I can't bake bread at home without ingredients and fuel from Shinra. You have to come to terms with it."

"What does 'come to terms' mean?"

"You probably somewhat got it, didn't you? Did you forget? I told you to have your meal quietly."

There was irritation in her voice, and Aerith was regretful. However, if her efforts to enjoy her meal had gone to waste, she also thought she shouldn't hold back anymore.

"Okay. But, tell me one thing. Elmyra, where do you go after breakfast?"

Elmyra stopped her eating hand and fixed her eyes on Aerith. However, she looked down at the plate after several seconds, she again put the beans in her mouth. Aerith couldn’t read Elmyra’s expression at all, and she didn't know what to do anymore.

"I used to bring along this table to a lot of picnics."

It seems that she was interested in having a conversation. Elmyra's voice was gentle.

"Picnic? I know what that is!"

"Even though I say so, it's still the slums. As much as possible, I would go to places without people and monsters, have a ham and cheese sandwich and even drink a little alcohol."

"Seems fun!"

"It really is."

Elmyra's expression became gloomy, and Aerith panicked. She cannot let this fun conversation come to an end.

"Did you go alone?"

"Nope, that's not the case."

Elmyra placed the bread back on the plate, went out of the room. She then entered her room along the corridor. Shortly after, she returned to the room, holding a photo frame in hand and held it out to Aerith. The photograph projected Elmyra snuggling up close with a man Aerith didn't know, with the upper half of her body. They were sandwiched in between this small table. The man's face and build were robust in comparison to the slender Elmyra.

They both looked like they were happily laughing.

"Clay Gainsborough. He's Gabriel's only son and my husband."

"Your husband!? I know what a husband is! A husband is a wife's important person. A wife is a husband's important person."

Elmyra let out a giggle.

"Yes, he's my husband and an important person to me. You can address him as 'Clay' when he comes back. He likes children, so he would welcome you."

"Where is Clay now?" Aerith asked as she looked at the photograph.

There was no response. When Aerith lifted her head, she saw Elmyra's face, which looked like she was about to cry. She then forcibly put up a smile once they made eye contact.

"He went to war. I got a letter saying that he would be coming home because he took work leave. It's already been six days since he was supposed to be back. The day I met you was the third day."

Aerith understood Elmyra's strange behaviour.

"Do you go to the station every day?"

"Yea... From morning till evening. I probably look like a moron."

"Not at all," Aerith shook her head.

"There’s no point asking Shinra where he is. They tell me something like the trooper's whereabouts is a secret. Shinra surely isn’t flexible at all."

"Clay is a Shinra trooper?"

"Yes, that's right. I should have talked about this first. It's my bad. This household actually has a deep involvement with Shinra."

Aerith's body stiffened.

"But don't worry. Clay and I, we won't do things like ratting you out to Shinra. Aerith, even though I don't know the situation, I'll never forget the desperate look of your mother. We won't do such things to betray you."

"Okay."

To hide her feeling of uneasiness, she hid both cheeks with her hands. However, Elmyra left her eyes fixed on the photo frame and continued her story.

"Clay volunteered to be a Shinra trooper to avoid public criticism that the Gainsborough household was getting preferential treatment from Shinra. Gabriel objected to it, but Clay had already decided, and he stuck to his choice. They haven't spoken to each other since then. I had to go back and forth between these two men to convey things to them."

"Clay and Gabriel, they didn’t get along well?"

"They clashed often, but they had the same personality."

If they had the same personality, maybe that’s why they became like this. Aerith didn't really understand that. However, she saw Elmyra's gentle look as she spoke. It made her inclined to believe that even though Clay was a Shinra trooper, he probably was a good Shinra trooper.

"Aerith, isn't there anything you'd like to talk to me about? Regarding things that are better if I know them?"

There are plenty of things that she should talk about. However, she should probably tell the truth. That she is a Cetra. That people refer to her as an Ancient.

She recollected the various tales of the Cetra that she heard from Ifalna. Elmyra was a good person, and there was no mistaking that. She was not only all words, and she acted upon to help strangers. Clay was also undoubtedly a good person. In the photograph, he had the same smile as Elmyra. However, people may change if she told them she's an Ancient. The Shinra Company wanted to know the secrets of the Ancients, and that was why everyone was gentle and kind. If they were to reveal their true self, everyone would probably be the same as Professor Hojo. They would be itching to inject needles and cutting skin off.

"My mummy and I were captured by this crazy scientist and locked up in the Shinra Building. My mummy had a lot of experiments done on her, that's why she became sick. If I were to be captured by Shinra, that would be me. That's why I want to be here. I also like it here—the house and the garden too. I will also eat Shinra's canned food, so Elmyra, please..."

Elmyra looked at Aerith with her mouth wide open. Shortly after, she reached out her hands across the small table and wrapped them around Aerith's.

"Is there even such a thing? No... there probably is. Yea, of course, you don't have to go back. I promise that I won't do anything that you would hate. Well then, shall we finish eating?"

The two ate quietly. And before long...

"There is a guest coming tomorrow, so I'll probably be cooking for the first time in a while. I like to cook, but it's troublesome if I cook alone for myself. Now that you're here, it'll be good if I cook more, right?"

"I... want to cook! I'd like to help!"

"I’m not sure about that... The kitchen is on the first floor. I think it's still too early for you. "

Aerith was dejected, but she soon looked up.

"That guest... What kind of person is he?"

"That guest... He's Meguro, the second in charge."

"Me-gu-ro-the-second-in-charge."

"Yes. I have to also talk about our family's business, and I’ll tell you about it tomorrow."

And then, after Elmyra finished her meal, she asked casually, "You probably are missing your mummy, aren't you?"

Scene 11

"At that time, I didn't feel things like longing or loneliness. When nightfall arrives, we'll be able to meet. And even if we weren't able to meet, she's connected with the Planet. I could believe that. Moreover, inside the pouch that I received from my mother was a materia. It does nothing other than shining a dim white light. It's not good for anything at all. But when I have it with me, I feel calm."

"It's good for something after all, isn't it?"

"Ahhh, I guess so!"

Aerith touched the knot in her hair at the back of her head. The materia from that time was still with her.

"I wonder who you will pass it on to..." Tifa uttered.

She didn’t understand what she meant at that moment..

"Hey, Tifa."

"Hmmm?"

"I haven't even thought about that before."

There might come a day where she would no longer be ‘the final descendant of the Cetra'. She imagined that scenario in astonishment and fixed her eyes on Tifa. She then flustered ―

"Sorry, I said something strange. Well then, may you tell me the rest of the story? About the second-in-command?..."

Scene 12

Unexpectedly, Aerith was allowed to sit at the lunch table. She was called to the table on the first floor. Meguro then got up from his chair and requested a handshake. Meguro was a plump and cheerful-eyed adult. He looked much older than Elmyra.

"This is Meguro, the second-in-charge. He's Gabriel's right-hand man, Clay's childhood friend, and he's an excellent advisor of mine."

"Good afternoon Mr Meguro. I'm Aerith."

"I heard it from Elmyra. It must have been tough for you."

Aerith was startled, and she looked at Elmyra.

"Meguro is fine. Even if I keep this from him, he's a well-informed and intuitive person. He'll get information from somewhere right away and notice it. That's why I thought it'd be better if I break it to him early on."

Aerith was unhappy about it. It was supposed to be a secret between the both of them. However, since it came to that, there was nothing she could do.

"Aerith. Shinra is making a fuss about you and your mother. In connection to that, there are also occurrences of kidnapping. There's a despicable gang that kidnaps the girls in the slums and tries to make money off it."

"How do they make money? There's probably no way they can fool Shinra."

"Of course, but there are also a bunch who would purchase the girl that Shinra is searching for. It's probably not too tricky to deceive greedy, mean bastards."

Meguro faced his giant body towards Aerith. "You're six years old, no, seven."

"I'm seven."

"Is that so? I also have a seven-year-old daughter. Her name is Rona. That's why this case is not just any other person's problem, and hence this is my suggestion. You two are to be parent and child from now on. Aerith to not be sneaking around, but to go out with Elmyra boldly. You both will meet people and introduce yourselves. You will..." Meguro said as he pointed at Elmyra.

"You will say this. This child was born before you married Clay. She was entrusted to your relatives, but you and Clay decided to live with her. That's about it."

"Hold up a second," Elmyra objects. "I don't understand your point."

"The purpose is to get Aerith known by the neighbourhood and to make them recognise that this child lives here. If she lives in hiding and is taken away by kidnappers and Shinra, no one would probably notice. Elmyra, you probably are acquainted with all the inhabitants in the vicinity, aren't you? If she becomes your daughter, everyone should take notice."

"I see. If that's the case, what about being a relative's child? Or a child who’s adopted from the orphanage? Isn't that good too?"

"The orphanage is just a short distance away. Why would you want to adopt one from there? You wouldn't want to be pried on things like that. Well, however, if she's adopted from a relative, that should be fine. That's right. That would be natural. Well, I think..." Meguro squinted his eyes and looked at Elmyra. "I think you should be addressed as 'Mummy'. Just like how Gabriel made me call him 'Dad'."

Meguro then shifted his gaze to Aerith.

"I was an orphan, and Gabriel picked me up and raised me like his son. Aerith, what do you think? While you're here as the family's child, you'll live as Clay's and Elmyra's daughter."

"I'd like that too."

It seems like an excellent idea. Even if Aerith asks for help now, clearly, no one will care. Just like when she was looking for a doctor at the station. But if she were the daughter of Elmyra Gainsborough, that would be a different story. Elmyra was still thinking about it. Please, Elmyra.

"I think it's a good idea, but this is not just important to Aerith but also for the Gainsborough family. I can't immediately make a decision."

"Well, give it a good thought. Anyways, if Aerith is to go out, it'll be good for her to change her name. Yup, please give this some thought."

Change her name? Aerith was confused at the unexpected suggestion.

"By the way, Elmyra, is the scar on your face Carlo's doing?"

Elmyra looked at Aerith with a side glance.

"Even if I’ve hidden it, you probably already knew about it, right?"

Meguro proudly snorted.

"That guy is a problem. I can't even guess how he became an in-charge."

"With Gabriel gone, he probably thinks that Clay would approve him. Moreover, I'm his representative. He believes that if he threatens a woman, she will cry and give him her signature."

"We have to tighten the whole organisation a little then."

Meguro made a serious face.

"Clay will probably succeed Gabriel, right?"

"Yes. He's taking his work leave this time to talk to you about it."

"No, no, he likely took it to meet his beloved. Business is just an excuse."

Meguro laughed happily and then stood up.

"Leave Carlo to me. And let's talk about the whole organisation after Clay returns."

Scene 13

"After Meguro went off, I was informed about the Gainsborough family business. Gabriel was a manager who manages workers at the construction site. They call him 'The Recruiter'."

"Ahhh, I've heard of this."

"He had been doing this work since the beginning of the Midgar's construction. There are other people in the same profession, but everyone moved onto the plate once it was erected. Only Gabriel and his subordinates remained in the slums. The slums support the plate, and there are many facilities in the slums, aren't there? When that time comes when repair or construction work requires manpower, the Gainsborough family will be contacted."

Aerith gestured and drew a triangle before Tifa's eyes and points at the apex ―

"Gabriel was the first in charge. Clay and Meguro were the second in charge, and they supported the first in charge. The third in charge consisted of six people, and each of them had their own men. They gathered them, and moved under the instructions of the second in charge. Carlo, the hooligan, was like Clay's sworn younger brother."

Scene 14

"Do you understand, Aerith? In other words, this is a very important matter for you," Elmyra said as she placed her hands on Aerith' shoulders.

"Most of the family's work comes from Shinra, and my husband is also a trooper from Shinra. With that, do you still want to be here?"

Elmyra was waiting for an answer with a serious face. She was different from Ifalna and talked to Aerith about anything. That's why Aerith had to think and respond to her thoroughly.

"They are our clients, but it doesn't mean that we adore them. You don't have to worry about that."

It would be a lie to say that Aerith wasn't bothered by the fact that the household has such close relations with Shinra. But if she wasn't okay with it, she couldn't stay here. What should she do? What does she want to do? She looked at Elmyra. Her skin and hair were drier than Ifalna, and she could see that she was tired. She still hadn't removed the plaster on her face. The wound inflicted by Carlo, whom Ifalna happened to bump into on the way back from the station, seemed painful. She went to the station to wait for Clay. She really wanted to see him. And that very same Elmyra fixed her eyes onto Aerith. Even though things are tough on her, she still thought about Aerith's feelings.

Aerith realised it and hurriedly asked what she should have confirmed first.

"Elmyra, won't this trouble you? If I stay here, would it be okay?"

"What are you talking about? Of course."

Without knowing how to express her relief and delight, Aerith hugged Elmyra. She pressed her face onto Elmyra's flat stomach, and Elmyra wrapped her arms around Aerith's back and brought her close for an embrace.

"Well, Clay and I don't have any experience in raising children. We've only learnt by watching others while doing the family's business. We can't say that we know much. There will probably be troubles along the way, and there's a chance Shinra may find you. But let's come up with a solution with everyone when that time comes. By everyone I mean Clay, Meguro, myself and you, Aerith."

Aerith nodded with her forehead still pushed on Elmyra's belly.

“Hey, Aerith. Can you call me 'Mummy'? Of course, you don't have to be serious about it because you only have one mummy."

"Mummy," Aerith tried saying while her forehead remained pressed.

"What was that?"

"Mummy."

"Once more."

"Mummy?"

"It's ticklish, but I don't think it's bad. What do you think?"

Aerith looked up, and she saw Elmyra's gentle face."

"It isn't bad!" Aerith imitated.

Elmyra let out a big laugh. The atmosphere in the room seemed like it started dancing.

↞↠

Ifalna appeared during nighttime, and Aerith told her about the happenings in the day. Ifalna closed her eyes and nodded with satisfaction.

"I'm glad, Aerith."

"But... I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologising?"

"After all..."

From the time after Aerith saw her face, she had feelings of guilt.

"I'm okay with it. Rather than thinking about me, I want you to have a good time. How's your new name coming along?"

"Elmyra told me to think about it myself."

"I see... Do properly give it thought. That name will be your ticket to freedom."

"Okay..."

"To me, I'll miss the name that I'm familiar with and cherish. But you'll always be Aerith. My adorable Aerith. That will not change."

"Really?"

"Of course."

Ifalna's figure wavered for a moment. Aerith panicked and called out to stop her.

"You know what, Mummy? What should I do if Clay doesn't want me? What should I do if he dislikes me and would be angry at me if I stay in this house? And if he says that, he'll return me to Shinra..."

"I think it'll be fine. He's the husband that Elmyra chose, after all, right?"

"Yup, that's right."

Her uneasiness did not precisely go away.

"I wonder where Clay is..."

"That's true... I'll try searching for him."

"Okay, please."

↞↠

It was the following morning. Aerith was drinking tea with Elmyra on the first floor. An old man with a small stature came to visit. He was Butch, a third in command. The wrinkles imprinted on his entire dark-skinned face was impressionable.

"Good morning Butch. You came earlier than the agreed timing, didn’t you?"

"Sorry. It's my bad. Shall I come back again?"

"No, no, it doesn't matter."

She handed over the documents she had prepared. These are the documents necessary for the job. After Butch confirmed its contents, he nodded with satisfaction and placed them inside a tattered bag.

"And, who is this child?" Butch asked Elmyra as he looked at Aerith.

"Ahhh, I have to introduce her, right?"

"She's my cousin's daughter, but my cousin passed away. So I decided to adopt her."

"She doesn't have a father?"

"Eh? Ah. Yes, yes. She doesn't."

Elmyra couldn't hide her nervousness.  Butch squinted his eyes and looked at Elmyra. He then turned them to Aerith. It was the first time that Aerith saw such a wrinkled face. His thin eyes were like a part of his wrinkles.

"Hey, young girl, what's your name?"

She was fascinated by his wrinkles, that when she was suddenly asked a question, she was shaken. And then...

"I'm Rona. Nice to meet you, Mr Butch."

After she said that, she thought she was done for. It was too late. Rona was the name of Meguro's daughter, and Butch definitely knew that too. Elmyra also became flustered.

"Ahhhh, what a coincidence."

Unsure if Butch saw their nervousness, he vaguely nodded.

"Nice to meet you, Rona."

After saying that, the old man went home.

"I'm beat."

Elmyra held her own head.

"I'm sorry, I didn't properly decide on it."

"No, no, I wasn't prepared."

Elmyra knelt on the floor and met Aerith's gaze.

"I should have expected that Butch to come early. He normally does. And also, the name too. I thought that the important thing about a new name is that it should be decided on your own, and I left it up to you, but of course, you need help with this. You're seven. Yeah, that's right."

That's right. Elmyra took a broom in her hand and started sweeping the floor while muttering to herself numerous times. It seems that doing the house chores calms her down. Shortly after, she poured Aerith a new glass of tea and invited her over.

“The next guest is Rodin. He's the same as Butch, a third in charge. He may be light-hearted at times, but deep down, he's a good kid."

"He's a kid?"

"No, no, he's only a lot younger than I am. And also, Aerith. He's scheduled to come here in the evening. I want to go to the station before that. There's a chance that Clay might come back. My bad, but may you hide on the second floor until I'm back? It'll be a problem if an unexpected guest comes over, isn't it?"

"Okay."

"It's fine if I bring you along, but it's probably still too soon for that."

"I'm alright with that. I do like the second-floor."

"Your name... Do think about it. I think it's fine if we talk to Butch about the situation. Rona is fine too, but it's still not an issue to change your name now. I'll be thinking about it along the way, so let's discuss and decide on it later on."

Elmyra mentioned that before she came back, no matter who might come over, be it even though it's Rodin, she was not to open the door or to give a reply. She then left the house. Aerith thought they were like the mother squirrel and the child squirrel she saw in picture books. She recalled the fate of these squirrels and hurriedly ran upstairs.

She intended to think about her name right away. However, she thought about Butch's wrinkles. She was surprised she thought about wanting to try touching it someday. She was also curious about Meguro's belly. What exactly did he stuff in there? Is it soft? Is it hard? Rona is also probably a big child, isn't she? Even if she changed her name, she had already introduced herself to Butch as "Rona", would problems not arise? If Meguro knows about this, would he be angry? She wondered how Rona would react to it too. How is Rona as a child? When will it be the day that she meets Rona? Will she get along with her?

As she thought about those things ― and she dozed off numerous times ― evening came. There was the sound of the door opening, and Elmyra cheerfully called out, "Come down."

There's good news, was it!?

Aerith noisily ran downstairs to welcome Elmyra, who was holding a paper bag with both hands.

"Welcome home!"

"Yes, I'm back."

"Welcome home~!"

"Alright, that's enough," Elmyra laughed as she placed the paper bag onto the table. When Aerith looked into it, she found lots of vegetables and fruits that she had never seen. "The vegetables were cheap today, so I brought home lots of them. It's been a while since I hung around at the market. What did you do today?"

"I thought about Rona, about what kind of kid she is."

“She’s a good kid. You’ll also have a chance to meet her in this house.”

After that, Aerith also asked questions about Rona. Elmyra listened with her back facing her, and she replied while starting to put away the vegetables in the food storage area in the fridge. She already stopped smiling. Her voice was also no longer lively. It was because Clay also didn't come back today.

The doorbell rang.

"It's Rodin."

Aerith felt a sense of relief. Elmyra probably did too.

Rodin was a young man around 20-years old. He was tall and slender and had big blue eyes and wavy blonde hair.

"Hello," Rodin gave Elmyra a small greeting.

He noticed Aerith right away.

"Hey, Rona. Nice to meet you. I'm Rodin, one of the third in charge."

After Aerith was called ‘Rona’, she flinched. He opened the bag he slung on his shoulders, and held out a thin book.

"Nice to meet you. Here's something I brought from Butch."

"Thank you."

On the cover of the book that she received, the words 'Let's play with letters' was printed in large font. Without thinking, she swelled up her cheeks. That book, which gathered the characters Midgar uses, was the same study book that she was assigned to study in the Shinra Building.

"Eh? Don't you like it? Butch chose it, but... That man, he cares about this kind of stuff more than you would think, so I'll keep this a secret."

"I'm happy about the book. But I thought I had to study."

"Is that so? Well, you're the same as me then. I'm also bad at studying. I'm pretty okay with reading, but writing... Especially Kanji, it'll be good if it doesn't exist."

"Rodin, don't tell her such weird things. Well... Rona. Read the book upstairs. We have to talk about business."

After replying as vibrantly as possible, she went to the second floor, looking like she was escaping. She felt uneasy every time she was addressed as Rona.

After Rodin went off, Elmyra apologised for not coming up with a good name and not taking the time to talk with her about it before Rodin came. And then...

"What do you think about the name 'Rona'? Do you like it?"

"Yes. I like it."

"Well then, shall we go with that?"

"Okay."

↞↠

You’re on page 66/142 of Aerith’s segment of the Light Novel. Next Scenes: Scenes 15-21 Previous Scenes: Scenes 5-9 Back to Content Page (click/tap here)

follow @istanleyff7​ on twitter for updates  support the TOTP translation project financially here (click/tap here)

[dickwheelie]

this is a few days late but it’s still technically Hanukkah, so! here’s a fic about Jon and Martin celebrating Hanukkah in the safehouse (shhh timelines aren’t real) because I like to project and I really like the idea of Jon being Jewish. a lot of us are having weird holidays this year, away from friends and family, so the boys having a weird one too seemed appropriate. in particular, Jon not having a menorah because I don’t have one this year either :(

the stuff in this is based on my own experiences celebrating Hanukkah growing up in a pretty secular household, so if you see anything that’s “wrong” then that’s why, lol. the prayer is accurate as far as I know though, it’s the same one my family and I sing every year.

(also this is not a good representation of how to make rugelach! if you really want a good recipe, hmu and if you ask nicely I might share my mother’s 😁)

enjoy and Happy Hanukkah!! 💙🕎✡️💙

___________

“I just feel bad,” Martin said, watching from the sofa as Jon put the challah in the oven. “You’re doing all this cooking, and I’m just sitting on the couch like a lump. And this is supposed to be your holiday.”

“Martin, for the tenth time, it’s fine. Besides, the holiday doesn’t actually start until sundown,” Jon called, cheerfully enough, from the kitchen. Jon liked cooking, Martin knew, and he didn’t really see it as a chore in the same way Martin did. Still, this was a special day for Jon (well, eight days, really), and Martin wanted to be of some use. He’d offered to do everything from peeling potatoes to rolling matzoh balls, but Jon, ever the control freak in the kitchen, had stopped him at every turn. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty about not helping out as Jon bustled about, trying to make Hanukkah dinner for the both of them.

More than helping out, really, Martin just kind of . . . wanted to share this with Jon. The way Jon talked about it, it sounded as though he’d had more Hanukkahs alone than with friends or what little family he had. Martin wanted to make Jon feel like he didn’t have to be alone this year, and even if Martin was new to this, he was game to learn. Jon had already told him about the holiday and all the different foods he was making, but there was still some distance there, a disconnect, that Martin knew Jon wasn’t putting between them on purpose. It seemed to Martin more like a force of habit than anything else.

After setting the timer for the challah, Jon nodded, satisfied, and came over to join Martin on the couch. He slouched against him comfortably, and Martin automatically put an arm around his shoulders. Jon had a bit of flour on his nose, and Martin gently swiped it off, which made Jon’s face wrinkle up like a disgruntled cat. Bloody adorable, Martin thought.

“I get a bit of a break before I have to start on the latkes in a few hours,” Jon said. “Got to make those right before dinner so they’re fresh.”

“Can I please help with those?” Martin said, half-joking.

“Fine,” Jon laughed, “yes, Martin, you can help with the latkes.”

“You won’t regret it.”

“I’m sure.”

“Is there dessert?” Martin asked, offhandedly. He hadn’t noticed Jon getting out any sugar or making anything sweet that day. “Do people eat anything sweet on Hanukkah?”

“Well, there’s gelt,” Jon says. “Chocolate coins. But the grocer’s didn’t have any. Unsurprisingly.”

Martin laughed. “Yeah. Probably not a huge priority in the Highlands.”

“People also make rugelach, sometimes.”

“Arugula?”

Jon laughed, not unkindly. “Rugelach. Different from the vegetable. Very different,” he said. “It’s a pastry. A kind of holiday cookie, I guess you could call it. Sweet dough with chocolate or cinnamon inside. It’s simple to make, but I didn’t buy the right stuff for it, and honestly I have enough cooking to do.”

“Yeah? How d’you make it?” Martin asked, innocently enough, though an idea was brewing.

As Jon explained, he waved his hands in the air, miming the process. “You just roll out some pastry dough, cover it with chocolate or cinnamon or walnuts or whatever you like, cut it into strips, and roll them up.” He thought for a moment. “They look a bit like seashells.”

“Huh,” Martin said. “Seems easy enough.” He’d never made dough before, but how hard could it be, really. The hardest part, he figured, would be actually making the things in their tiny cabin and even tinier kitchen without Jon finding out.

Soon after that, the oven timer started beeping, announcing that the bread was done. Martin took advantage of Jon busying himself in the kitchen to slip out the door, giving him some offhand excuse about wanting to get some air, to which Jon waved him off.

In the baking aisle at the grocer’s, Martin quickly realized he was out of his depth. He stared at the display of flour and sugar and baking powder and all sorts of other stuff, utterly at a loss as to what one needed to make pastry dough. He tried, once again, to Google a recipe on his phone, but once again, there was no service and no wifi.

Well, there was always pre-made, frozen dough. Not ideal, but it’d probably work in a pinch. Much faster to make, too, Martin thought as he dropped a couple cans of it into his basket. The filling, at least, he knew he’d be able to handle; he grabbed a few bags of baking chocolate and a shaker of cinnamon, and brought everything up to the checkout counter.

Martin didn’t even know which lucky stars to thank when he arrived back at the cabin to find the kitchen empty, and Jon passed out on the bed in a post-challah, pre-latke cooking nap. Martin gently closed the bedroom door and immediately set to baking.

Going by Jon’s vague descriptions, he rolled out some of the dough into a flat oval shape, but the pre-made kind wasn’t meant to be used all at once, and the end result was a sort of lumpy mass. Digging around in the cupboards, he was able to find some flour, which helped make the dough less sticky, at least. Eventually, he was able to get it flat enough to cover it with the filling, like Jon had told him. Half of the dough he covered in cinnamon, liberally shaking it out all over the dough. The other half he covered with the baking chocolate, which came in little chunks, but he figured it would melt in the oven just fine.

Next, just as Jon had described, he cut the dough into even strips, thin and rectangular, and rolled each of them up, so the filling made a little spiral shape inside. The chocolate ones were a bit chunky and awkward-looking, but, well, it was the taste that counted, wasn’t it.

Martin turned to face the oven, realizing he had no idea how long they ought to bake for, or at what temperature. He checked the instructions on the tins of pre-made dough, deciding to go by whatever they suggested. It wouldn’t do for the dough to be raw, he figured.

Soon enough, the pastries were in the oven, and Jon was still dead to the world, none the wiser. Martin felt quite satisfied as he cleaned up, mentally patting himself on the back for a job well- and stealthily-done. He’d hide them in the oven, he decided, until after dinner, and then he’d surprise Jon. Smiling, he went to join Jon in bed, curling up next to him as he slept, until he fell asleep himself.

Martin woke groggily several hours later to Jon gently shaking him awake, telling him it was time to make the latkes. He’d already got the batter done, a thick, floury mixture of potato and onion, and a pan of oil was bubbling on the stove. Jon showed Martin how to drop spoonfuls of batter into the pan, patting them down to shape them into little fist-sized “pancakes.” He let both sides brown in the oil until they were nice and crispy, before transferring them onto a paper towel-covered plate to cool. It was simple enough, and Martin was able to finish up the batch as Jon set the table, bringing out the challah and matzoh ball soup he’d made, as well as sour cream and apple sauce to dip the latkes in.

Once the latkes were done (and Martin was quite proud to say they’d come out very nicely), Jon retrieved some red wine he’d gotten in the village and poured them both a glass. Then, as Martin was getting ready to sit down, Jon glanced around sheepishly, gesturing at an empty space on the kitchen counter.

“I, ah, normally I’d have a menorah to light. But obviously I didn’t bring one when we came up. And out here, well, it’s the same as with the gelt. No real place to buy one.”

“Oh,” Martin said, heart sinking. He reached out to squeeze Jon’s hand. “That’s a shame. I’m really sorry.”

“Really, I just wish I could show you,” Jon said, shaking his head as he took his seat at the table. “It’s really lovely. You light a new candle every night, and when they’re all lit . . . I’m sure it’d look nice here, especially.” He gestured at the space in front of the darkened kitchen window.

“Yeah,” Martin agreed, wistfully. He’d seen photos of menorahs before, and he could just picture it, he and Jon gathered around, lighting candle after candle as the eight nights passed.

“Well,” Jon said, turning back to face Martin at the table, “we may not have a menorah, but I can still do the blessing.”

“Blessing?”

“Yes. You’re supposed to do it while lighting the menorah, but, well. I’m sure this will do, given the circumstances.” Jon reached his hand across the table, and Martin took it.

“Alright.” Jon cleared his throat, almost self-consciously, and then began to sing in Hebrew, a melodic, practical tune that sounded comfortable and familiar on his tongue, like a well-worn shawl. “Barukh ata Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha’olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav, v’tzivanu, l’hadlik ner, shel Hanukkah.”

Martin couldn’t really sing along to the words, but he nodded along to the melody, and when Jon was done he looked up at him and smiled, and Martin beamed back. They both raised their glasses and drank.

They ate heartily, or at least Martin did, because Jon kept shoving second and third bowls of soup at him, and insisting he finish off the latkes. Not that Martin was complaining, of course; it was all delicious, and Jon did praise him for how nice the latkes had come out.

They left the dirty dishes for later (or, knowing the two of them, tomorrow morning), and after dinner they went straight for presents. Though his options were limited without online shopping or anything outside of the tiny village, Martin had managed to find an adorable little painted china Highland cow in a local antiques shop.

“I know you think they’re cute,” Martin said as Jon lifted it out of the box.

“How did you know,” Jon deadpanned, but he grinned as he brought it up to his nose and stared at its little painted snout. “I love it, Martin, thank you.”

Jon had gone the homemade route, and knitted Martin a scarf. And a pair of mittens. And an entire bloody sweater.

“Oh my god, Jon,” Martin said, staring in disbelief at the mounds of knitwear before him. “How did you find time to do all this? How did you find time to do all this without me knowing?”

Jon looked away sheepishly. “I, uh, I’m a fast knitter.”

Martin shook his head fondly. Unbelievable. But he immediately took off the sweater he’d been wearing and pulled on the one Jon had made. It fit rather well and was as cozy as it looked. “Thank you, Jon,” he said, feeling the sleeves, knowing that every loop and stitch of the fabric had been purposeful. He could practically feel the care and love Jon had put into each one of them. “I love it,” he said, leaning over to kiss Jon at the corner of his eye.

“Well,” Jon said, cheeks darkening, “Happy Holidays, then.”

“Oh,” Martin said, rising from the sofa, “I’ve actually got one more thing. Sort of a last-minute gift.”

“Hm?”

Martin went over to the oven and took out the trays of rugelach. He’d checked them earlier to see if they were cooked through, but hadn’t gotten the chance to taste one yet. “Tried my hand at a bit of dessert,” he said, selecting a couple nice-looking ones and putting them on a plate for Jon to try.

Jon had followed Martin into the kitchen, and was staring at the pastries lined up on the trays. “Oh, well, thank you,” he said, surprised, taking the plate Martin handed to him. “What are they?”

Martin cocked his head at him. “Rugelach,” he said. Wasn’t it obvious?

Jon’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Ah,” he said, voice strained with positivity. “Of course. Right.”

Martin was starting to get a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Gingerly, Jon took one of the rolled-up pastries, and bit into it.

Martin tried one as well. It was one of the chocolate ones, and it was . . . crunchy. Very crunchy. The chocolate, it seemed, had only partially melted in the oven, and the pastry dough itself was a bit hard to bite through. Besides that, it wasn’t very sweet, the chocolate being too dark and the dough being too salty.

He tried a cinnamon one. Again, the dough was crunchy, and the cinnamon was overpowering without any sweetness to it. Martin considered the possibility that perhaps he ought to have added sugar.

Jon, for his part, was doing his best impression of a person who was very much enjoying the pastry they were eating, honest. “Mmm,” he said, demonstratively, as he swallowed one of the cinnamon ones. “Thank you, Martin, these are . . . delicious.”

Jon was actually reaching for seconds, which Martin knew he was only doing to make him feel better, so he reached out a hand and placed it on Jon’s, stopping him short.

Jon looked up at him. Martin shook his head wordlessly. Jon cracked a smile.

“They’re not good,” Martin said, putting them back on the trays one by one.

“Martin--”

“It’s okay,” Martin said, smiling back at him, “I know. They’re rubbish. I didn’t even use a recipe, of course they were gonna turn out--”

“Well,” Jon said, stubbornly, “you tried. It’s the thought that counts. Thank you, Martin, really,” Jon said, bringing up Martin’s hand to kiss the back of it. “It was very sweet of you to put all this effort into it.”

“Next time, I’ll look up a recipe,” Martin said, bringing one of the trays over to the kitchen bin. Jon was quick to assist him.

“There’s seven nights of Hanukkah left,” Jon said, after a moment’s thought. “We can always try again. Tomorrow, we’ll get more ingredients, and I’ll show you how to do it properly. It really is easy, you just need . . . well. Sugar, for one.”

Martin laughed as he tossed the last of the batch away. “Okay. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“I mean it, though,” Jon said, looking at him fondly. “Thank you. For this, and for the cow, and for sharing the holiday with me. It’s . . . this has been really . . .”

Jon was gesturing in the empty air, struggling for the proper word, but Martin understood well enough. “Yeah,” he said. “And thank you, for sharing it with me.” He pressed a kiss to Jon’s cheek.

“Happy Hanukkah, Jon.”

[pikablu410]

Baked Goods

The sun was out, a few clouds scattered about, and the wind was at Tim’s back as he walked to a group mate's house on a Saturday afternoon. Tim was a young guy, a junior in high school, and with the physique of one. He was pretty thin, with a bit of muscle from hormones and whatnot. Tim never really prided himself on his body, but he wasn’t really ashamed of it. Plus, he was planning on going to the gym more often during the summer to build some muscle. 

Tim was wearing some white sneakers, a black t-shirt, and some jeans. He just got on the first things he saw in his closet, not really bothering to think about his outfit too much since he was just going to see some friends today. 

While Tim didn’t have any particularly strong feelings for Josh, the group mate’s house he was walking to, he was forced to work with him since his other friends, Dylan and Austin, had chosen him to work on a group project with them. Josh didn’t live far away from all of them, so they were all able to meet up at his house to work on the project easily and quickly. 

Josh was also openly gay, while neither Tim nor his friends working on the project were. Regardless, none of them saw it as an issue since Josh was nice person who everyone just saw as the gay kid at school. Sure, he could be a little too open about his affection towards other guys, fondling their hair and getting a bit too close to them, but he never intended to be weird or harmful. Tim didn’t really care either way since he hadn’t interacted with Josh before, and he didn’t plan on talking to him more after this. This was just a group project; nothing more, nothing less.

Tim walked up the concrete steps to Josh’s house and knocked three times in succession. Quickly afterwards, a bit too quickly for Tim who jumped back when the door suddenly opened, Josh was at the doorstep welcoming Tim inside.

“Hey Tim! Glad to see you got here safe!” Josh kindly sang. He was a person who always put on a joyful front, which was a bit annoying but Tim decided he could deal with it.

“Am I the first one here? There’s no papers out or anything.” Tim observed, walking into the living room where an oak coffee table sat in front of a dark blue, comfy looking sofa. 

“Yeah, Austin said he was almost here. I’m not sure where Dylan is, but he hasn’t said he isn’t coming at least!” Josh joked, hoping to brighten the mood. He didn’t know Tim too well, so he was hoping he could strengthen the friendship while he had the chance.

“Oh! I’m trying to get into baking, too. I made some cookies for you guys since we’ll be working on this for a bit!” Josh said, placing down a platter of cookies on the coffee table, as well as a glass of milk.

“Uh, thanks?” Tim said, sitting down on the sofa. He didn’t think this project would take more than an hour, but if Josh wanted to bake he wasn’t going to stop him.

A few minutes passed by with Tim just watching whatever was playing on TV. He had expected either Austin or Dylan to show up at one point, but neither did. 

“What’s taking them so long?” Tim thought to himself. He had wanted to finish this early so he could get it out of the way, but it was taking longer than he thought it would have. 

The smell of cookies distracted Tim, as they had been sitting out for a while. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but they did smell good. He figured why not, and decided to take a bite out of one of the cookies. They tasted astounding. Despite being out for a good 5 minutes, the chocolate melted in Tim’s mouth. The cookie itself, like the chocolate, also seemed to melt once it hit his tongue. Tim immediately took another bite and quickly finished that cookie before eagerly grabbing another. He remembered the milk and took occasional sips from that as well as he ate the cookies. 

Tim ate like a starved man, grabbing cookie after cookie in each hand, stuffing more and more down his gullet like he was insatiable. It wasn’t long before he finished the entire platter, chugging the rest of the milk down as he did so. He let out a small burp before placing the empty glass back on the table and putting his hand on his stomach. It felt a little more bloated than usual, which made sense to Tim as he had just stuffed himself full of cookies. However, it was a weird feeling of squishy flab, and not a taut, bloated feeling he was expecting. 

As Tim finished the cookies and was a bit taken back by the results, Josh walked in with a plate full of brownies and a gallon of milk.

“It looks like you enjoyed my cookies! I knew a chubster like you would!” Josh giggled, sitting down next to Tim and jiggling his belly.

Tim just laughed with Josh. He wasn’t really chubby, but he did have a slight belly. He just liked to eat a lot, is all! None of his body jiggled like one would expect an overweight person’s to, so Tim didn’t really see it as an immediate issue. It was recent too, so he knew he could work it off in no time. That’s why he walked over to Josh’s instead of getting a ride, but he regretted that when got he got tired and started to sweat after a minute of walking.

Regardless there was a plate with new baked goods on it, and if they were as good as the cookies Tim knew these would be heavenly. Forgetting about his weight problem for a bit, he dug into the brownies with as much gusto as he had with the cookies, continuing to take sips of the milk as he ate. It was creamy, delicious and helped Tim wash down the food he was eating. And was the food ever good! The brownies lived up to Tim’s expectations and then some! They were dripping with gooey chocolate when he bit into them, and they were just as soft and delicious as the cookies. 

Again, as he finished, Tim drank the rest of the milk down. He let out a slightly bigger belch than last time, though it could still barely be called a belch. He set his hand on his stomach again and was confused for a bit when his hand came into contact with his belly much sooner than he had expected. 

“You finished the brownies already? Wow, you must sure be hungry, but I guess it makes sense for a guy as big as you to be that hungry.” Josh said as he walked into the living room with two plates of cookies and brownies.

“What do you mean by that?” Tim asked, letting out a sizeable belch afterwards.

“Oh, you know what I mean. Your belly! It’s getting pretty big at this point, I don’t think you can just lose it in a week like you’re saying.” Josh said, rubbing Tim’s belly as he talked, as if to emphasize his point. “It’s even starting to lift your shirt up a bit! How much do you have to eat for that to happen?” Josh half asked, half joked. Tim laughed, though, realizing Josh’s point.

He was getting pretty chubby, his belly emphasizing that. His clothes were pretty tight with his shirt showcasing how large his belly had grown. Tim’s jeans were also being strained by his legs, not to mention his plumpened rear pushing against the back of the jeans. His moobs were almost visible through his tight shirt, too, though if Tim was standing it wouldn’t have been so obvious. And Josh was right, there was a small part of his belly at the bottom of his shirt that was starting to peak through. Tim didn’t really mind, though. He had always been a bit chubby as far as he could remember.

But now that there were plates of cookies and brownies in front of him again Tim’s mind wasn’t focusing on his weight, but rather the cause behind his weight. He started to stuff his gullet with the treats faster than anyone would expect someone of his size to. Still, if anything would cause him to be this eager, it would be good food. Tim ate so fast he was starting to get messy with his food, wanting to devour the tasty treats in front of him instead of monitor his hygiene. He figured no one would mind anyways, since all of the guys in his group were cool with each other. 

As gooey chocolate covered the edge’s of Tim’s mouth and chocolate chips fell to the floor, Tim was starting to finish up this next batch of treats. He went to sit back and enjoy the sight of an empty plate, but was surprised to see more cookies and brownies left on the dish. In fact, there looked like there were more than when Josh had left the plates originally. His glass of milk was even full again, too. Tim just shrugged off the eerie occurrence, figuring he had just missed Josh put out more to eat and drink while he was busy eating. 

This cycle continued for a bit, with Tim continuing to eat without questioning as to why more food was out for him to eat. However, there came a point where Tim finished all his milk and looked down at the plates to see that nothing was left; Josh hadn’t come to refill them. Tim smiled knowing he could now take a break, leaning back and letting out a big belch. 

“I hope you enjoyed the snacks, big boy.” Josh teased as he jiggled Tim’s belly. Tim, again, just chuckled and knew Josh was right.

Tim’s belly lifted up his shirt completely, and it was even starting to show a bit of his moobs too. They wrapped around his body, creating a roll all on their own as well as starting to push Tim’s arms up a bit. Tim’s pants weren’t fairing well either, being pushed to their limits by his thicker thighs that were as wide as a person at a normal weight’s waist. His two, huge globes that made his butt also strained his pants, taking up one entire couch cushion and starting to creep over into the other 2 cushions. Tim’s face wasn’t spared from his weight either, having a second chin as well as cheeks that made him look like there was always food in his mouth. 

“I might be big, but you don’t have to keep teasing me about it.” Tim joked, rubbing his belly.

“But if I don’t tell you you’re getting fat, who will?” Josh teased again, slapping Tim’s belly causing it to go into a frenzy of a jiggle.

“Besides,” Josh continued, “I think you like all this weight anyways.” Josh sat down next to Tim and started to stroke his flab. “You could’ve just worked off this weight, but instead you keep putting more and more on.” Josh said seductively, almost as a whisper. He continued to stroke Tim’s fat and jiggle it occasionally. “I remember freshman year, when you were just chubby. Now look at you! You’re definitely fat! How long until I get to tease you for being obese? Maybe I already can do that!” Josh teased some more, jiggling Tim’s right moob to emphasize the point.

As Josh continued his work on Tim, Tim started to feel something under his gut. A longing in his groin that he needed to satisfy. He let out a moan as Josh continued to go over his body, realizing just how big he was. Tim tried to reach under his belly to relieve himself, but he couldn’t get past his big belly.

Josh devilishly smiled watching the horny fat boy try to pleasure himself, only to be denied by what turns him on the most. “Don’t worry chubby, I’ll help.” Josh offered, reaching his hand under Tim’s big belly. Not long after that Tim let out a much louder moan, confirming to Josh that he found what he desired. He slowly jerked the fatty off, dooming him to love his fat even more than before. Tim just let out orgasmic moans, submitting to Josh if only for pleasure.

As it turns out, Tim was quite easy to please as he came shortly after Josh started to jerk him off. “Now that you’ve been taken care of, I hope you’re ready for more treats!” Josh cheered as he cleaned his hand off.

“Yes! Please more!” Tim merely shouted, eager to eat more of whatever Josh baked for him.

This time it turned out to be more brownies and cookies, as well as cupcake and donuts too. If Tim wasn’t so eager to dig in, he would’ve noticed these treats were much larger than before, and larger than any version from any place that sells baked goods. The cookies were at least an inch thick with many more chocolate chips, the brownies looked to be double the width of the cookies, the cupcakes were 5 inches tall with the icing being the same if not larger than the actual cupcakes, and the donuts looked as inflated with fat as Tim did, looking less like rings and more like piles of dough with icing on top of them.

Tim didn’t bother with any of those details though, and just decided to eat what was served to him. He continued to eat as he did before, not caring that he made a mess as he did so. Now, however, with more of his body exposed he was able to get more of the mess on himself instead of his surroundings, though chocolate and icing did spread around Tim too. Icing got around Tim’s mouth, chocolate sauce got in between his moobs and his rolls of fat and crumbs accumulated nearly everywhere on him -- even in his bellybutton!

Tears could be heard as the boy continued to gorge, his clothes becoming a thing of the past. Tim also didn’t bother to notice that the treats never dwindled in amount, as he was too busy focusing on which he would eat next to care if he was close to running out. He never was in danger of running out, though, as there seemed to be an endless supply of the treats for him to eat! If Tim knew this, he would’ve been ecstatic about it, but the piggish boy was too busy stuffing himself to gluttony and back to care. 

As Tim continued his pig out, he was started to let out more belches as he ate. It was as if whenever he took a break to take a long sip of milk he would let out a loud, long belch. Of course, the glass of milk was larger than it had originally been, but the size of Tim’s belch couldn’t have simply been caused by drinking more milk. That wasn’t to mention his farts, which started to ramp up the more he ate. He was letting out more and more gas the more treats that got in his tummy, and he seemed to be enjoying it all. His love for fat seemed to be leaking into all these other traits, so the more he ate the more he desired for, well, more!

Sadly for Tim, when he went to grab more treats his chubby palm found nothing but empty ceramic. He had finally eaten all his treats up! And, as if on cue, Josh came in to check on the boy.

“Wow, I didn’t think you would eat all of my baking, but I’m glad you’re enjoying it so much you fatso!” Josh joking, giving a slap to Tim’s gut, causing Tim to let out a humongous belch. He also giggled a bit, but more at his belch than Josh’s joke about his weight. 

“God you’re huge, I mean just look at you!” Josh said, acting astounded.

“Yeah, I know. I’m pretty fucking fat!�� Tim stated, almost as if he was proud of the fact. 

And Tim was actually pretty fat. His stomach was so huge that none of his shirts fit completely over it and usually he just didn’t put on a shirt, like he was doing now. He figured his friends wouldn’t care if he was shirtless. Besides, he hadn’t come over to Josh’s house for anything major, right? He had somehow forgotten why he was at Josh’s place. It was probably just to taste test Josh’s food, since Josh knew he loved to eat tons.

Tim’s moobs sat atop his big belly, almost as if they were being shelved there. They were each the size of a grapefruit, with his nipples erect from how big he was. Tim tried to grasp them in his hands, but he couldn’t quite get all of his moob in one hand, just showing how big they were. 

His legs were incredibly thick too, now being as thick as tree trunks at the thinnest part, and being incomparably wide at the wider parts--namely where his thighs and butt met. However, his pants were tough enough to stay on, though there were many rips on the jeans. Tim figured having some pants on was better than having no pants on, even if his rear was almost completely visible because of how much the back of his pants were torn. Speaking of his rear, Tim’s butt cheeks were each the size of an exercise ball and were starting to creep into the adjacent couch cushions. They jiggled like mad whenever he let out gas, and that jiggling only encouraged Tim to be gassier, as the feeling brought great pleasure to him. 

Tim’s face looked like it was inflated, with his cheeks being jiggly sacks that looked like they were filled with lard. His chins, totaling in three, were hanging down from his face, causing it to be difficult to look down towards his belly. Tim didn’t mind, though, as they reminded him of how big he was.

Speaking of Tim’s affection for his fat, Tim’s hardness in his crotch hadn’t gone away since Josh had pleasured him moments earlier. Which was weird, because from what Josh had heard from the big boy while he was eating had suggested he came multiple times while he ate. Either his libido was that strong or Josh misunderstood, but judging by how loud Tim’s moans were when he was eating Josh was assuming the prior.

“Where’s more food? I’m hungry.” Tim asked demandingly as he rubbed his huge belly, letting out a fart as he did so.

Josh laughed, and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.” He walked into the kitchen and brought back a sight that made Tim’s huge body jiggle up and down with excitement. 

On the plate was a towering cake, covered in icing-both vanilla and chocolate-as well as chocolate fudge which oozed from each layer down to the next. Before Josh could even say “Dig in” Tim was already attacking the cake with his bare hands, not really caring that a fork and a knife were on the table in front of him. To him, eating with his bare hands was the fastest way the food would get in his stomach, so he didn’t care that it was also the messiest way to get the food in him.

Chocolate covered Tim’s hands and the edges of his mouth as he feasted on the cake. It had to be almost twice the size of a wedding cake, but Tim acted like it was completely normal. That, or he didn’t care that the cake was huge, just that he was hungry. It was probably the latter, because he got chocolate and icing all over his hands, which got all over his belly when he went to go rub his stomach while eating. 

What Tim also didn’t notice is that the huge cake wasn’t really diminishing in size. Much like his last gorge on the plates of baked goods, the cake still seemed like it had been untouched by Tim. Though, much like with the previous meal, Tim didn’t notice and just ate to his heart’s content. He cared more about getting the food in him than how much of it was left. 

As Tim ate, the sensation under his gut started to be less cyclical, with ups and downs of the feeling, and more of a constant pleasure. He felt like he needed to be constantly pleased, his appetite for food only fueling this desire, ironically enough. 

His gas also became constant, and the boy started to sweat a lot more too. It was most likely from all the weight on his body, but there was no denying it was a bit excessive. Drips of salty exhaustion went in between his fat folds, fell off his arms and swam down his body to his thickened thighs. 

After what seemed like an eternity, but hadn’t actually been more than half an hour, Tim had finished the cake. Just like with the rest of his meals he let out a belch, but this belch was something more than the other ones that had preceded it. This belch shook the entire house, and Tim’s body for a good few seconds with it. 

“Seems like you enjoyed the cake, huh piggy?” Josh teased Tim, slapping his fat which caused some of the sweat to fly off the Tim’s entire body to jiggle vigorously.

“Yeah!” Tim started, his statement interrupted by a fart he laughed at. “I want more! I’m so hungry!” The boy whined, jiggling his body in frustration.

“Don’t worry, you’ll never be underfed while you’re here. But I have a surprise for you, it’s upstairs though, do you think your huge body can make it?” Josh asked, though he was still poking fun at Tim.

Tim was never really known for his movement. He barely left the house unless it was for a good reason. And his size was a testament to that. He had a gut that went down to his knees when he stood up, and when he was sitting it still went to his knees! It jiggled at the slightest movements, and with how gassy Tim was known to be it was almost constantly jiggling. Tim enjoyed the feeling though, as if it was a constant, subtle tickle, so he was pretty gassy a majority of the time.

On top of his belly sat two moobs that outclassed any woman’s breasts you’d ever seen. Tim liked to grope them as he ate, which resulted in them getting even messier than they usually would be. They sank under his arms, due to how big they had gotten, and his nipples were constantly erect with how much Tim loved to eat. Tim’s arms were quite thick, too, being twice the size of a normal person’s waist. Tim didn’t move them much other than to eat, though, and he was starting to get thoughts of asking people to feed him since he didn’t want to use all the work to move his arms to eat. 

If his arms were thick, then his legs were enormous. They were spread halfway onto the other couch cushions, making it difficult for anyone else to sit on the couch besides Tim. Tim’s legs almost held all of his belly when he sat, but a bit of the edge sank off. Even still, they could hold a dozen kids and still have a bit of room left over. The didn’t look suitable to moving, but Tim wasn’t doing much of that normally anyways. He had gotten a ride over to Josh’s house, after all. 

Tim’s face was also filled with fat. His cheeks were starting to mess with his eyesight, and he had 3 rings of chins going around his face when he sat down. He didn’t seem to mind, even if it caused him to be even messier as a result.

“You’ll need to help me...up there.” Tim panted out, trying to get up on his own. 

Josh went over to Tim and helped the blobby boy up, with Tim letting out a fart as he got up. He laughed a bit and then placed his arm around Josh’s neck so he could be supported. Then, slowly but surely, the two started to walk upstairs. Well, Tim waddled, but that was besides the point. Tim was already drenched in sweat by the time he was at the stairs, and he was sounding like he was out of breath too.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost there. And it’ll be worth it too!” Josh encouraged, which helped Tim lift his his huge up each stair. He was struggling a bunch, but the promise of something great encouraged the greedy glutton further.

Once Tim was upstairs, Josh led him to a bedroom and opened the door. What he saw at first shocked him

“Tim!” A hugely fat blob cheered out, jiggling a ton as a result. He looked to be around the same size as Tim and munching on some donuts while watching some mindless show on the flat screen TV to the right of the king sized bed he was on.

“Aren’t you glad to see Austin, Tim?” Josh asked, though he had a sinister tone behind his question.

Tim’s brain was wracked with questions. How did Austin get here? Was he always so big? What was even happening today and why was his memory so fuzzy?

Josh noticed Tim’s confusion and decided to clear it all up.

“Doesn’t he look so sexy?” Josh asked, but it was more of a suggestion than anything.

Tim, who was once wrought with worry, now looked like he was going to drool over his best friend. “Yeah...he’s so big and hot.” Tim mumbled out. 

Josh had to stop himself from laughing and helped move Tim onto the bed. Again, it was a struggle, but Tim managed to fall onto the bed. Josh then shoved Austin onto his stomach, who continued eating his donuts in front of him. By some instinct, Tim knew what he wanted to do and started to maneuver his way towards his knocked-over friend. After a few seconds, Tim had inserted himself into Austin, who gasped at the sudden feeling. He kept eating, though, while Tim started to fuck him.

As Tim continued to have sex with his best friend, memories started to flood back to him for seemingly no reason. He remembered that he actually lived here, because no one could handle Tim and Austin’s appetites besides Josh, and that their families had kicked them out because they ate so much. And Tim realized Austin was actually his boyfriend, who he loved dearly. Him being huge was an added bonus, with Tim realizing how much he loved fat while memories came back to him. He loved being huge, just being able to eat, and having no responsibilities. Tim thought he was forgetting something, however. Like a responsibility he had to complete for some reason. As he came into Austin, however, he quickly forgot about it. He never had any responsibilities. Just eat, grow and have sex with his beautiful boyfriend Austin. He sat back, the bed drenched in sweat now, let out a huge belch and decided to eat and watch whatever was on TV with Austin.

Downstairs, there was a knock at the door. 

“Ah, Dylan! Tim and Austin said they’d be here soon. Would you like to try out my baking in the meantime, though?” Josh asked.

[seacottons]

uni!au with ateez — [ part one ]

—[ san - performing arts ]

ironically, you met when you helped him after a taller male shoved him down whilst in a heated argument.

he burst out laughing when you asked if he was okay.

“don’t worry, we’re just practicing our lines!”

you quickly glanced up at the building and grimaced once taking sight of the gleaming silver ‘performing arts building’ plaque.

of course.

to say you were embarrassed was only scratching the surface.

you had no regrets, because the incident was the catalyst that formed your friendship and eventual relationship.

will never let you live that moment down.

“remember when you tried to save me from mingi?”

“i thought we promised not to bring that up again-”

“why can’t i? i was saved by an angel that day?”

san invites you to both his dance and theatre shows.

will appear to be very professional on stage, but you catch his eyes frantically darting to the crowd to try and spot you.

and once he does, he will repeatedly smile and wink in your direction.

you’re always early, so you manage to snag a seat in either front two rows.

likes when you bring him bouquets as a congratulation gift after his performances.

gets very loud backstage just to let everyone know you bought him a gift.

a huge show-off.

is very good at facial expressions.

you fall for every time he pretends he’s crying or hurt when you don’t give him attention.

he will imitate different characters and repeat after actors while you two watch movies together.

“it sounded sexier when i said it, right (y/n)?”

is a very clingy cuddle bug.

and a leech.

will always have his arms around you while walking at campus.

loves to give you back hugs.

is the type to wait outside for you until you finish class.

and takes you to the cafeteria afterwards for lunch.

embarrasses you in said cafeteria by spinning the lunch tray while waiting in line.

also likes to spin your phone just to freak you out.

also the type to excitedly text you about the donuts and coffee they’re giving away at the library’s breezeway.

likes to refer to you as ‘angel’.

will beg you join the different clubs he’s in.

and then brag about you to the others once you do.

will hype your choice of attire even if he’s already seen you earlier that day.

the type to also sneak you a latte in the middle of your class.

also the type to sneak in with you during your auditorium classes.

you regret it sometimes because he leaves no room for you to pay attention to your professor.

often times, so much so that you have to lightly pinch his side in protest.

“do you want me to fail this class?”

he likes to participate in the many events held at campus.

everyone knows him.

challenges you to dance offs in the middle of campus.

you refuse and push forward a startled mingi instead.

“mingi wants to have a turn this time!”

also likes to lay in your arms whilst you play with his hair.

“were you a cat in your previous life?”

he will then proceed to meow in your ear.

“i’ll take that as a yes.”

—[ hongjoong - fashion design ]

dating him would consist of always admiring his new projects.

supplying him with unhealthy amounts of coffee.

trying out new pieces he made.

offering to carry his overly large portfolio binder sometimes.

sitting down and listening to him rant about how his roomates fail to wash clothes properly.

he has a guide taped to the washing machine with the different symbols of clothing labels.

“no, san, you can’t use shampoo as detergent.”

“but seonghwa finished all the detergent!”

using seonghwa’s lint rollers to remove all the fabric fibers stuck on hongjoong’s clothes.

you scold him while cleaning the bleeding scratches on his fingers from his sewing needles and pins.

“don’t worry, it’s nothing i can’t handle.”

“but i don’t like seeing you get hurt, you bum.”

you bought him strawberry bandaids because he thought they were cute.

sometimes, when he has time, he’ll custom make clothes just for you.

he insists on having multiple matching outfits.

will ask you to model his work for his social media page.

thinks you look best in skirts.

you’ll be the source of comfort during presentation week.

he’ll be a wreck whilst making a new collection.

but you’re always there to pick him back up.

most of the time, you’re the source of his inspiration as well.

you insist he shouldn’t sit for hours writing essays or sketching numerous ideas for future work.

but he’s stubborn as a mule.

nights with him include binge watching fashion shows or cute cartoons.

or painting your nails.

you both enjoy coffee dates when you have time.

he tells you he wants to open a fashion line one day.

you’re trying to stand still as he plucks numerous pins into the dress you’re trying on.

“what do you think i should call it?”

“hj couture? does that sound too basic?”

he pauses momentarily before spooling the leftover red thread.

“(y/n). i’ll call the line (y/n).”

—[ wooyoung - culinary arts ]

invites you to his dorm and cooks for you.

his apartment always smells of warm spices and comforting meals.

pretends his roommates’ teasing doesn’t affect him, but the tips of ears always glow red.

will always bring over leftovers he made in class.

“i just thought you wanted to try this mille feuille.”

“which one is better? the salted rosemary loaf or the oregano and olive oil one?”

loves to bake and cook with you.

will make your birthday cake from scratch and will go all out decorating it.

has an annoying habit of taking pictures of you mid-bite.

“delete that right now.”

“but babe, you look so cute.”

“jung wooyoung!”

will wrestle with you as you attempt to take his phone away.

“okay, look! i swear i’ll delete it!”

he saves it in a hidden folder.

calls you his ‘cupcake’ or ‘sugarplum’.

teases you nonstop when you fail at something in the kitchen.

“babe! no! gentle folds! you pulverized those poor blueberries!”

“but the instructions say to mix!”

“the dough isn’t supposed to be blue!”

he’ll whine nonstop about how much he hates baking bread in class.

“do you know how abnoxiously long the fermentation process is!? i’m losing my mind.”

will wave and yell your name to catch your attention if he spots you nearby at campus.

you hear him every time.

he’s just that loud.

drags you to new restaurants just so you can rate them with him.

also drags you to go cutlery shopping.

accidentally dropped a plate in the store.

and when the employee came sauntering in the aisle suspiciously-

“(y/n) did it.”

once gave you food poisoning by accident.

you never wanted to eat scallops again.

you don’t mind his hands smelling like garlic or ginger most of the time.

or stained with spices.

“turmeric is a bitch.”

“woo, who wears white while cooking with turmeric anyway?”

will show off and brag about his knife skills.

demands to race with you to see who can chop the vegetables the quickest.

“you’re going down, (y/n).”

“uh- i don’t think i ever stood a chance to begin with.”

he lets you win sometimes though.

will beg you to visit him at his part time job at the cute cafe not too far by.

you always try to when you have the time.

and when he finds out you went to the rival cafe across the street one day..

“on a scale of 10 to 10, how bad is kang yeosang’s cooking?”

“what?”

“answer the question, (y/n).”

“woo, it’s 3 a.m.”

the next day, you explained that you were merely invited by your classmates to that particular cafe because one of them was a former employee there.

he childishly ignored you with crossed arms and a subtle pout.

“your jajangmyeon is much better. they didn’t even like the food there!”

he finally perks up with a large smile.

“wait, really?”

you think he looks endearing with his apron and chef’s hat.

will post cheesy captioned pictures of you after serving you delicately decorated plates of food.

‘two delicious meals for tonight, hehe.’

“gross. did you really have to say that?”

—[ jongho - kinesiology ]

you met him at the university gym and instantly clicked.

found yourself months later agreeing to go out with him.

a giant goofball.

sometimes makes faces at you while you exercise across the gym.

makes sure you watch him when he deadlifts.

loves when you hype him up.

opens all the jars for you.

and cuts all the fruit for you.

“why use a knife when you have my hands, love?”

you nearly choked on your saliva when he punched open the watermelon.

“can we ever just have a perfectly sliced watermelon!?”

“no- unless i break my arm one day.”

insists you jog with him around campus early in the morning.

likes to practice wrapping elastic tape on you.

you own half of his hoodies.

takes you to watch basketball matches.

then challenges you to a match when you go on dates to the park.

will persistently tease you about your poor aim.

and will absolutely not let you have the ball for more than a few seconds.

“stop cheating!”

“i’m not cheating! you just suck!”

joined you in some of your elective classes.

will also wear sleeveless shirts because he knows how flustered you get while his sculpted muscles are on display.

“what did professor kim just say?”

“what?” you tore your gaze from his biceps to glance at his face.

“are you staring at my arms again?” he snickers.

“no,” you say too quickly, face heating quite considerably.

despite his teasing, he’ll always baby you and take care of your needs.

has the cutest gummy smile.

you like to call him your gummy bear.

he hated the name at first, but grew to accept it over time.

likes to randomly pick you up.

sometimes will throw you over his shoulder.

has a habit of patting your thighs.

sometimes asks you to sit on his back while he does push-ups.

your eye bulged at the sight of a mop of ruby hair.

“don’t say anything.”

“you like apples so much you dyed your hair red?”

“i lost a bet.”

“you look cute though.”

you tugged at his tresses, smiling as you admired the shade against his tanned skin.

“baby?” you brushed his bangs away to display his forehead.

“hm?”

“you’re the apple of my eye.”

“i’m-,” he sucked on his teeth and pursed his lips, face scrunching in a mock grimace, “i’m going to throw up.”

[sign-from-god-complex]

disruptions

I accidentally started writing this at 1 am the other day and I can’t really be bothered editing it that much, so here! have a logince bullet point fic. 

Roman gets so In The Zone when he's creating that he pretty much loses track of everything around him

and he's found this is particularly noticeable when he's nearing the end of a project

he figures the others must know since it's pretty obvious how little attention he pays them if they try to talk to him when he's in the middle of something

and this is why it strikes Roman as so suspicious that Logan has startled him at the end of a finished product, not once, not twice but three times this week, so far

he's surprised Roman into knocking over a wet painting, dropping an entire cake onto the ground and fumbling a painstakingly careful attempt at a house of cards

each time Logan looked appalled at the result of his actions, moving to try and help Roman clean up, so he doesn't think it's malicious in any way

and yet, it doesn't seem to stop him from doing it

when Roman almost smashes a camera from being jolted out of an extremely productive filming session (if he does say so himself), he decides enough is enough and he has got to figure out why Logan keeps disrupting him

he marches down to Logan's room later that evening, pulling open the door to see Logan staring down at papers littered across the desk, not even looking up at Roman's arrival

"Logan!"

at the sound of Roman's voice Logan jumps about a foot into the air and Roman tries not to feel a little vindicated

and fails

"Oh, Roman. Apologies, I was just-"

"Doesn't matter!"

Logan raises an eyebrow at that but doesn't interrupt.

"I need to know why you've been bothering me so much this week!"

in an instant Logan goes from someone who’s mildly confused to someone who’s trying desperately to pretend they don't know what you're talking about

"Bothering you?"

"Yes! You know--"

Roman waves his hand about as if it has the power to communicate his thoughts better than his brain does

which, honestly, may not be entirely inaccurate at times

"Coming into my room while I'm working, sitting at the kitchen table to work while I'm baking when I know full well your room would be more 'conducive to efficient work habits' or whatever, talking to me!"

"Talking to you."

Roman rolls his eyes, somewhere just north of fond and east of irritated

"Are you going to just repeat everything I say or are we actually gonna have a conversation here, specs?"

"Right, I just..."

Logan blinks a few times, rapidly, as if his brain was lagging and needed time to catch up

it's not an unfamiliar expression with Roman; he does have a tendency to run at speeds Logan simply doesn't

"I'm... not entirely certain what you want me to say."

Roman inhales, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes again

"Well, the truth would be good! Why have you been hanging around so much recently?"

Logan's mouth thins

"Would you believe me if I told you I simply enjoy your company?"

Roman scoffs

"Yeah, right."

but Logan is just shifting uncomfortably in his chair, eyes cast downwards

and suddenly Roman feels kind of like a jackass

"Wait, really?"

"Yes, well, when you're not making fun of me or speaking at high speeds about whatever new thing has captivated your interest, you're actually quite... relaxing, Roman. I like watching you work. And you get this look on your face when you're finishing up a project that just- no, never mind."

"Oh, come on! You've come way too far in this explanation to back out now."

Logan heaves out a sigh, his lips twisting ever so slightly

"It's... intense but in a way that's... It's difficult to explain. You look like you're in your element, like you could accomplish whatever you set your mind to within the confines of your project because you simply know how to do it. It's... well I loathe to say attractive but-"

"Sorry, attractive? Logan, are you saying you have feelings for me?!"

"I believe that's the point I was getting to, yes."

"So, let me get this straight. You've been coming into my room and interrupting my work because you have a crush on me?"

Logan doesn't quite reply to that, simply moving parted lips in a facsimile of speech without any real noise

there's a moment where Roman simply digests that, running his mind back over the past week or so

he wasn't... upset when his projects were destroyed; not really

he was put out, sure, but the look of distress on Logan face (only lasting for a split second, mind you, but long enough) was enough to put that out of his mind

and there was all the slight brushing of their hands that made Roman's skin prickle and heat, the way he'd stuttered when he stood up from grabbing cards off the ground as he was suddenly overtaken by the urge to run his hands through Logan's hair and-

ah.

hm.

"I... the whole excited rambling thing doesn't annoy you, does it?"

Logan, who seems surprised Roman is still willingly standing in front of him considering the circumstances, blinks again

"No, I- I simply wouldn't describe it as relaxing. And anyway, you aren't the only one to do it, so claiming it's annoying would be rather hypocritical of me, in all honesty."

Roman nods, slowly

"Feelings," he repeats again, just to be sure

in return Logan nods too and it seems solemn, somehow, like loving Roman was a sin he was somehow committing

Roman didn't care for that shit at all

"Well, it's just as well I have feelings for you too, nerd."

Logan's eyes spark with disbelief and Roman catches it before it can ignite, tamping it down with a speech he hadn't even realised he'd been writing

"Seriously, you're so endearing; almost everything you do makes me smile. I never thought I would be so delighted by someone organising their bookshelf by publishing date. It's awful, Logan, it's absolutely ridiculous and I love that you do it. It makes me so happy.

"I spent five hours on that painting that I knocked over. Five hours. And I wasn't even mad that it got ruined! You were just standing there with your hands fluttering by your sides like you wanted to help but you weren't entirely sure how to and apparently, somewhere along the line, my brain decided that it was alright.

"And it is... alright. This is alright, Logan. In fact, I would argue this is better than alright."

Logan breathes in, seeming to restart again from the frozen position he'd been in throughout Roman's tirade

"Well, you won't be finding that argument here."

Roman snorts lightheartedly

"There's a first."

there's a crease in Logan's brow and Roman takes the barest hint of a moment to regret his comment

"Yes, Roman, about that-"

"Look, don't worry about it, Lo. If you wanna talk about it, we can, but just... not tonight."

Logan nods, seeming to accept that as a sound decision

"So..."

the words trail off and Roman isn't sure he's ever seen Logan look shy before but he also isn't sure he could call this anything else

"So..." Roman picks up, "Boyfriends?"

the little half smile Logan gives makes something twist in Roman's stomach like pulled taffy, sugary sweet

"Yes, I think I'd like that."

[jamaiskookie]

bangtan headcanon: OT7 IN HIGH SCHOOL 📓✂️

☞ genre; fluff, crack

☞ warnings; excessively stupid

masterlist  u wanna talk to highschool!bangtan?

《KIM SEOKJIN》

class clown

always manages to sneak kimbap in class, and stuffs his face despite being in the front row. 

he’s alarmingly good at sneaking food into places. 

cafeteria ladies love jin so much. 

and every christmas he brings in his perfected sugar cookies and never shares them.

(he’s in the cooking club)

((he’s the only one in the cooking club))

will interrupt the teacher to make a bad joke. 

“yes so helium is the fo- oh yes seokjin?“

“i was reading an excellent book about helium, i couldn’t put it down!! ahHAHAHHYUKHYUKAHHAHAHHA“ 

nobody’s?? really sure?? if he’s dating namjoon or not?? it’s the schools biggest mystery, there’s currently a betting pool going on worth about $500

likes to annoy namjoon and yoongi about holding bake sales. 

is surprisingly good at planning parties?? but never hosts them?? hoseok always gets him to plan his parties and he even planned prom!!

he’s particularly proud with the theme he came up with. 

‘zombie meets elegance‘ 

it was actually pretty nicely pulled off (much to the shock of the entire student body) 

《MIN YOONGI》

student council president 

takes his job very!! seriously!! 

fights with the principal on funding daily. 

doesn’t come to school without coffee and resting bitch face.

even the teachers are afraid of this short little emo boy. 

is the only one who actually wears the school uniform properly with the little tie and jacket because that’s how you show school spirit. 

definitely that closeted gay in high school who thinks nobody knows about his homosexuality when in fact, everyone knows.

(nobody has the guts to bring it up to him though)

“hyung why are you staring at jimin’s as-“

 “-NO WHY GET BACK TO WORK” 

actually enjoys doing morning announcements. 

“make sure to check out jin’s dumb bake sale i think he’s selling brownies for some charitable reason anYWAYS time for min’s advice column!!“ 

min’s advice column is yoongi’s free therapy. namjoon suggested adding an advice column to the school paper so now yoongi just judges his classmates’s decisions gives subpar advice. 

“i personally think you have no chance with this girl, but you’re clearly hell bent on asking her out. it’s a dumb choice. good luck.“ 

《JUNG HOSEOK》

fuckboy

throws obnoxious parties at his parent’s huge ass mansion. 

somehow?? is?? the nicest? playboy??? evER??

will respect your girl’s boundaries but also would 300% hit on her when you’re not looking. 

aftercare king wILL cuddle with you and help you clean up or whatever until jimin eventually comes in screaming. 

his school id says “hobi 💦👅” ... noone knows how he managed to do it (taehyung thinks he seduced the secretary) 

surprisingly good at romance even though he deTests dating

“it’s a waste of time, money, and ass.“  “- what?”

gives everyone dating advice whether they want it or nOt- he lives his *shhh very secret* romantic fantasies through his best friends. 

once helped taehyung ask out his girlfriend... they’re still going strong!!

defo has daddy issues that he never talks about,, maybe if a girl finds it sexc™️ in that kind of messed-up-bad-boy-she-could-fix vibe he’ll bring it up

kinda failing science lmao he probably needs a tutor.. but will never admit he needs a tutor for sake of his pride. 

most definitely has had sex in the janitor’s closet a couple times, up until yoongi caught him once, reported him to the school board and got him suspended... for a month. 

(yoongi has no regrets, that was the best month of his life.)

《KIM NAMJOON》

student vice president

honestly would probably be the council president and is the most qualified for it but can’t be bothered.

plus he hates public speaking and the president has to speak at assemblies.  

genuinely enjoys learning!! bUT HATES GROUP PROJECTS

because every single fucking time taehyung and jimin pester him about teaming up and he ends up doing like 75% of the work.

not because anyone forces him to or anything.

it’s because jimin and tae are such dumbasses every time they finish their work namjoon has a sudden uRGE TO REDO ALL OF IT BC THEY GOT IT WRONG.

tries to take all AP subjects.

gives up and drops half of them by the second semester.

great student but also will “no yoongi i don’t want to fucking play basketball i've been awake for thirty hours trying to finish this goddamn essay that’s due tomorrow. wHAT DO YOU MEAN WHY DIDN’T I DO IT EARLIER I WAS BUSY TAKING CARE OF MY BONSAI TREES.“

started the school paper!! it’s called “persona post”

writes about actual relevant things like political events and global problems, but everyone else just writes about school gossip *sigh*

although that one column examining hobi’s sex and dating life was a pretty fun piece of writing to read through. 

he sits in the back of the classroom and never raises his hand even though he knows the answer like 95% of the time.

definitely has a crush on seokjin

《PARK JIMIN》

the one everyone has a crush on

and when i say everyone i mean everyone, even hoseok has had a crisis over park jimin. 

(jungkook is definitely president of his fan club) ((in case it wasn’t clear, he’s dating jungkook))

school’s golden boy, basically gets away with everything with a bat of an eye... and the most infuriating thing is he doesn’t even realise it. 

“omg jimin!! you’re so cute!! this shirt looks sO good on you, can i touCH?” “omg thank you i didn’t think it fit well because it’s my boyfriends but that’s so sweet!!” “boy... hm?”

mom friend: sweetest bitch alive and is always worrying about his friends but everyone knows he’s secretly really fucking kinky.

(again, jungkook has no comment)

the kind of person who celebrates christmas in june. 

literally- he starts putting decorations in his locker and around the school mid june. by november, he’s wearing reindeer ears to school.

*lowkey kind of a nerd* genuinely enjoys studying with namjoon.

“well, studying with anybody else is just too stressful!! plus, namjoon’s so chill. he doesn’t look like it but he actually is super sweet and nice!!!“

“... please take those reindeer ears off, it’s embarrassing.“ 

half of the school would probably cut off an arm to sleep with him. seriously, he gets offers like everYDAY it’s kinda getting tiRING

is considering starting a youtube channel where he just takes videos of all the dogs and babies he meets throughout the day. 

“idk i think vlogging would be fun“

《KIM TAEHYUNG》

art hoe

nEVER FUCKING STUDIES OR PAYS ATTENTION BUT GETS DECENT GRADES.

the definition of bisexual mess, WILL trip when he sees hot people.

exclusively wears wired gold glasses and soft neutral sweaters to school. if it’s a good day he’ll wear a beanie. on special occasions he’ll maybe throw in some fUN loafers.

dyes his hair to match ~the vibes~ of that season. the most recent wild hair colour is cool toned teal. 

jungkook said he looks like leprechaun shit, but tae really likes it. 

tried to go vegan countless times, failed each and every one when he passed by a mc donalds. 

carries his sketchbook wherever he goes. he has that thing around 24/7, 100% would not be surprised if he slept with it under his pillow.

really quiet until he has a point to make;; like that time where he launched into a three hour screaming lecture on how phineas and ferb is an animated masterpiece.

drinks tea purely for the aesthetic of it. 

goes to hipster coffee shops to pretend to study... ends up watching barbie movies and critiquing them on the writing blog that he thinks nobody knows about. 

watches anime in class (he recently rewatched all of ATLA for the third time,, failed his econ class but worth it!!1!!1)

《JEON JUNGKOOK》

preppy jock

once again, everyone is attracted to him, but he’s so whipped for jimin everyone’s crush fades away once they talk to him because-

“oh it’s so cool that you have a dog!! you know, i think jimin kind of looks like a pomeranian sometimes it’s sO CUTE- hm? oh jimin’s my boyfriend.“

... it’s disgustingly adorable. 

plays almost every sport and is somehow always the team captain. not out of obligation or with leadership skills or anything, everyone else just votes for him. 

mess with his friends and he’ll put a stink bomb in your locker. 

his nickname is “golden baby” because he’s good at everything, teachers love him so much. 

grades? sTELLAR. sports? he’s done them ALL. creativity? pAINTED THE SCHOOL MURAL. service? volunteers at a pet shelter whenever he can (the bunnies love him for some reason) 

everyone either is 

a) in love w him, wants to fuck

b) jealous of him but is also secretly gay for him

pretends to not know how talented and cool he is and plays it off super cool

proceeds to fail, the only thing he’s bad at is humble bragging. 

“wow omg lol i got a 100 on my bio test and yesterday i got a hole in one in golf, my first time playing it but it’s chill i guess hahhah day in my life amirite.“

**this headcanon is the start of the bangtan school series, stay tuned**

wanna be tagged in school series or my writing? here or send me an ask

[rosesvioletshardy]

interviews - ben hardy (lawki)

I told myself i was done with this series but i couldn’t help myself but write this.

also i recommend reading the series first so you have an understand of what is going when he’s talking so the masterlist will be linked to read it

masterlist

warnings: none

# of words: 1,453

---

there were times where ben didn’t enjoy talking about his private life especially after everything that has happened with Lennon, christian, and charlie. For the longest time, he was tired of people asking him how he was doing after the deaths of his best friends and whether or not he was going to be able to take care of a child while traveling and always working. They knew about how there was someone else to help but they always put the blame on him because he’s a “father” and fathers are also supposed to help look after the child. They all weren’t like that, some of the interviews he loved talking about being one and always gushed about how much he loved charlie if they asked him in a respectful way. Not only did he love talking about charlie but he also loved talking about y/n. 

Throughout the press tours he was doing for bohemian rhapsody were some of his favorite ones as well as 6 underground. He loved the fact that whenever they brought it up, he would start gushing about his two favorite girls in the world. Half of his instagram feed were filled with pictures and videos of them whenever he had a day off and they went out for some fun. The guys also would start teasing him and tell the interviewer how he would never stop showing the cast and crew pictures of her doing pretty much anything from smashing strawberries trying to eat them and making a mess to watching y/n make dinner and trying to imitate her.

 He never really thought he’d be a father that soon and before he even got married but he didn’t mind it anymore. Now he was in the green room for another interview at james corden waiting for his name to be announced and go through another interview. He was sitting on his phone talking to charlie and y/n even though the time difference meant that charlie was supposed to be going to bed soon but she insisted that he read her a story before he went on and hearing his name be called.

“Okay charlie girl, it’s time for you to go to sleep and for dada to work. I’ll be home in 2 more days.” he told her before talking to y/n as she left her room to back to theirs

“How are things over there? Is she coping well?” he asked her 

“Yeah she’s fine, always sleeps with that yellow sweater you have because she still thinks “it’ll bring daddy home quicker.” in her words.” y/ n told him

“Well she’s not wrong. I feel like a bad parent for letting charlie stay up this late just so the both of you could talk but i didn’t want you to be tired the next day either” she finished

“hey, you’re not a bad parent. if anything I’m the one who should feel bad for her staying up, i’m in another time zone when i could be home with you two. How are you doing?” he finished

“I’m doing good, I miss you of course but I think I'm managing okay. Work is work. I can see where Charlie is getting at and wanting to sleep with something to be close to you. She didn’t want to take her nap today so hopefully she’ll take it tomorrow. You’re not a bad dad for wanting to talk. I think she enjoyed staying up but let’s not make it a habit” she told him looking down to avoid showing him how much she really misses him

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have ben hardy here tonight.” james corden announced

“Tomorrow is the last day of interviews here and then i’m home with the two you. And yeah, i agree, i’ll make sure she gets right back on track. Gotta go babe. Remember, i love you and charlie to the moon and back” he said 

“We love you to the moon and back too. Have a good interview.” she told him before they hung up

----

“So Ben, how are you coping with dad life? Is it treating you well?” james had asked

“Well at first it was hard because it suddenly came onto me out of nowhere but now after a year and a half I'm enjoying it. Charlie is one of my favorite people in the world.” ben told him smiling

“So from what i’ve been told, you and your fiancée didn’t like each other at first and that you’ve actually dated before. Tell me about that.” 

“You see, our friends, Charlie's real parents, before they died they tried to set us up. My mate christian was dating Y/N’s best friend Lennon and Y/N had broken up with her ex for a while and Lennon told Christian who told me about Y/N and we agreed to go on the date.” ben had said always regretting that day

“If i’m being honest, oh god she’s going to kill me,  i didn’t want to go at first because I could find anyone but Christian told me about her and I gave in. I showed up, but I was about an hour and 45 minutes late. I wasn’t even dressed properly, I didn't make a reservation, I came with my motorcycle. We then decided to go to her other friend’s restaurant and I got a call from another girl which I played it off as a sick friend. Yeah, so after that, she hated me and i would constantly tease her but after christian and lennon’s death,  we started to make up for everything just for theirs and charlie’s sake after we found out they wanted us to take care of her.” he finished remembering everything like it was yesterday

“Wow that was a wild start to finish, and now you’re both in love and engaged. How are they? Have you talked to them?” james asked

“Yeah i was just talking to them before I came out. I miss them, I really do but I talk to them almost every night before she goes to bed and I wouldn't give up anything for the world.”

“How does it feel for her knowing that her dad played Roger Taylor? Has she met Roger and Brian?”

“She has yeah. The first time they came to visit the set we started to film the Live Aid scene and in between one of the takes, she began to walk right in front of them while I was talking to Rog. Now they’re known as grandpa Rog and Grandpa Brian, well “Wog” and “Bwi” because she’s having trouble with her R’s at the moment. Even if she doesn’t know exactly who they are. they love her so much.” 

“Wait until you get past the terrible twos, it just goes downhill from there, especially if she’s a daddy’s girl” Ryan joked 

“Oh she is. She keeps taking my jumpers and according to Y/N when she tries to take it to wash it, she won’t give it up.” ben laughed

“Yeah we have the photo right here.” james showed the screenshot from ben’s instagram of the picture of charlie wearing the sweater while playing with Frankie as he captioned it

“I don’t think I’ll be getting that jumper back soon. 📸: @y/n.l/n”

“let’s talk about Y/N, how is she? I met her once when I went back to London and I really loved the cookies from her bakery.” he asked Ben

“she’s doing great and she’s been so supportive with everything and she’s a great mum to Charlie. I honestly can’t imagine doing everything she’s doing while also running two bakeries whenever i’m away. there were times where i was always doubting myself as a father, even now, and she still reassures me that i’m a great one.”

“oh she’s the best, i met her not to long ago I don’t know why he would ever act like that to her. Sorry ben. She does make the best cookies I swear, I felt like I died and went to heaven. I felt like Blake is going to leave me for her after we went out on a double date. she’s just that amazing” ryan joked and told the two brits as they laughed

“if i’m being honest i hate myself for that too and I can’t cook or bake for shit too. I tried to once but I feel like she honestly hated it when she said she loved it.”

They continued to talk about the upcoming projects and filming for 6 underground went, and how he was excited to go home for a bit soon, before playing Flinch to test if they would be able to keep a straight face while fruits are thrown at them.

[1magine-engine]

1404 (Prologue)

Fandom: Haikyuu!! Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Youtuber Reader Words: 1500+ Posted: 26/11/20

Song(s) Featured: Moon on the Water by The Dying Breed (from Beck MCS)

“It’s actually really exciting.”

Tetsuro nods, knowing Kenma means it, whatever he’s talking about. Probably something about Bouncing Ball corp. and the new game they have in development. Really, Kenma hasn’t stopped talking about it since the project started almost half a year ago and while Tetsuro is interested enough to usually listen to him rave and gush, today’s just not that kind of day.

“-and the new voice actor I have in mind is really good. We save a lot of time and money cause they speak in both languages.”

Yup, they’re probably phenomenal if Kenma is so easy to compliment them. Tetsuro racks his brain trying to remember who he’s talking about.

“I’m actually thinking about having her as a guest on stream soon.”

Uh huh.

“Oh and I’m also going to shave my head and give my hair to that middle school girl who won’t stop messaging.”

Good for them.

“Okay, how many of those have you had today?”

Tetsuro looks down at the cup of coffee he’s forgotten he’s holding. “Uh…” his brows furrow and it’s enough for Kenma to pry the cup out of his hand and set it on the far end of the table.

“And you’re always telling me to get proper sleep.” Kenma gives him a look, sipping on his own drink. He exits Discord, Tetsuro’s sagging back, drooping shoulders and lifeless eyes, more concerning than his followers’ Rule 34 fanart. “Seriously are you okay man? Have you been sleeping? At all?”

Tetsuro shakes his head, the mere mention of sleep enough to slump him over the table completely. As far as he knows, a waiter hadn’t wiped it after the last couple of people who sat down, or before he and Kenma took their place. He finds he doesn’t care. “Stupid neighbors, always either fighting or fucking all night. It’s been going on for a month now.”

“Oh that’s rough.” Kenma winces, handing him back his coffee, knowing lunch break doesn’t last forever and Tetsuro has to return to his office as a zombie. “Tried filing a noise complaint?”

He was about to, one week into the couple’s constant spats, but hearing them scream at the top of their lungs at each other about money troubles and barely keeping themselves afloat stayed his hand. Tetsuro knows how difficult it is to get an apartment in his building, a prime position near the business district at a reasonable price. He also knows his neighbors to an extent, at least what they do for a living as a preschool teacher and a struggling musician. As much as he needs his sleep, he’s not so heartless as to put them out on the streets. “It’s fine,” he promises as he downs the rest of his coffee. “I’ve been living next door to these guys for almost two years now and they’ve always seemed happy before this. They’ll work through it and I then I can get some sleep.”

“If you say so,” Kenma says but he still stares down and shakes his head at the next waitress who tries to approach them with a pot of coffee.

It’s a month and two weeks in that Tetsuro reconsiders that noise complaint or at least considers gathering his neighbors from the same floor and staging an intervention. Mrs. Mamizuka across the hall has expressed her concerns to Kuroo in the elevator one morning, telling him they’ll surely notice how loud and disturbing they’ve become when they realize she hasn’t been giving them as many of her baked goods as she normally does. And Tanaka who’s taking up residence at the end of their hall has advised him to just go out at night, go to the convenience store next to the building and wait till they tire each other out or go partying with friends.

Oh, to be a college student again.

He’s not even in his mid-twenties and he wishes for the energy he used to have, the kind that could drive him through all his classes on just 3 hours of sleep. Maybe then, he could finish his damned paperwork. Maybe then he wouldn’t fall asleep on the bus and miss his stop.

“Been up working late nights Kuroo-san?” the night guard, Sato asks him when he drags his feet into the lobby after midnight.

Kuroo nods, also wishing he had half the middle aged man’s energy, because even at the latest hours of the night, Sato-san greets every tenant and guest with a smile. Kuroo could only force himself to return it. “Something like that.”

“Well you look pretty tuckered out. You should probably put off whatever you’re working on for the night Kuroo-san.” He wags an index finger like a weather man telling a fact about nature on the news. “Sleep is important you know.”

Doesn’t he know it.

When he crosses the threshold of his apartment, he doesn’t bother turning on the lights. He heads straight for his bedroom and musters up the energy to take off his jacket, tie, socks and shoes. The night is silent, save for a light chorus of crickets outside his window. He’s gotten home later than he would have any other time, a crescent moon sitting just past its peak outside his window. And he hopes, oh does he hope, that it means his neighbors have already fought all they can fight for the night. Or maybe the husband hasn’t come home yet and that’s why it hasn’t started. 

He regrets even thinking of it when he settles into bed and hears the distant sound of a door being unlocked and slammed open.

Tetsuro sighs, already rolling over to each for his messenger bag, his earphones sitting somewhere at the bottom. He stops his rummaging when no bedlam disturbs the night. Footsteps prick his ears but they don’t stomp and aren’t followed by booming voices trying to talk over each other. He rolls back over, leaning towards the wall and hearing nothing. Odd. More shuffling and trudging draw his eye up to the crag ceiling, to the apartment above his.

The kind elderly couple who used to live up there had mentioned wanting to move to the country for months. “The air is fresher there, better for old people like us,” the wife chuckled at him once when he’d helped carry her groceries across the lobby to the elevator. Not a week later, Tetsuro was helping the husband and their son move furniture out, just in time to miss the beginning of a hard spot in their neighbor’s relationship. But whoever has taken their place isn’t so fortunate but then again, maybe it’s him that’s out of luck. In the darkness of his apartment he stares up at the ceiling, brows furrowed.

He prays, prays to whatever kami watches over the luck and serenity of apartment buildings that it isn’t another couple that should’ve broken up yesterday. Hell, he’ll even take a new family with a rowdy kid. At least kids are usually out by 10 with their parents careful not to wake them, not banging on the walls or banging each other. No movie he’s watched or game he’s been in has ever left him in such suspense. After some more shuffling and gentle creak of chair legs against a wood floor, there’s silence. 

Tetsuro sits up, holding his breath.

“Full moon sways, 

gently in the night of one fine day.”

A car drives by, the doppler effect of it rushing down the street drowning out the first few notes of an acoustic guitar. Deft fingers play with practiced ease but do so with languid movement, catching on the strings more than plucking them. The voice, high and crooning, is the same, beautiful but almost lazy. Tired, he realizes, is a better word; she sounds as tired as he remembers he feels, once all the irritation at his neighbors and frustration with missing his stop ebbs away. Laying back down, he listens.

"On my way,  looking for a moment with my dear. 

Full moon waves, slowly on the surface of the lake. 

You are there, smiling in my arms 

for all those years."

Even as the song switches to strumming with the slightest bit of force, Tetsuro finds himself sinking deeper into his pillow, eyes growing heavy.

"What a fool, I don’t know ‘bout tomorrow, 

or what it’s like to be, Ah,"

He’s never heard the song in his life, neither does he remember enough of his English classes from high school to understand everything, but he doesn’t need to.

"I was sure, I couldn’t let myself go, 

even though I feel, the end."

Her voice and her guitar are muffled by the layers of wood and concrete between them. His window is open to let the cool night air and silver light of the moon in and he can tell hers is as well but she drowns out the chirping of crickets, the cars that drive by and even Tetsuro’s own thoughts as little by little, then all at once, he falls asleep.

"Full moon sways, gently in the night one fine day 

You were there, smiling in my arms,

 for all these years."

When he opens his eyes, it’s slow. Sleep inertia from a deep sleep is always worse but he finds his eyes widening as it goes away in minutes and he feel more rested than he has in years.

He blinks, staring up at the ceiling.

“Huh.”

[kazimakuwabara]

Buttercream

Summary: A reuquest sent into me that I wanted to try:  Usopp impressing Sanji with his baking skills? Maybe include the line: “baking is just edible chemistry.” (can be taken as light Sanuso or at the least Sanji & Usopp friendship and support)

****

"What are you doing?" Sanji asked, his voice a mixture of exhaustion, bewilderment, and aggravation, not yet approaching anger.

Not yet.

Usopp, frozen like a rabbit caught in the sights of a fox, stared at Sanji holding a small spatula, the tool just hovering over a cake. Flour was on the floor, on Usopp's face, and in his hair. The sugar bowl was spilled over, and an egg was smashed on the ground near the fridge. Sanji, fished out a cigarette, and plopped it in his mouth, hurrying to light it while he tried not to get angry, but oh, he was getting awfully close to-

He froze.

On the counter, just beneath Usopp's trembling hand, was the most marvelous cake he had ever seen.

(The Most beautiful Buttercream cakes you could ever see)

It was half done. Base layer of the cake was white, and Usopp was delicately sculpting yellow and orange buttercream flowers into the side of the cake. Layering them on top in globs, before somehow shaping them into a blooming flower. Two other piping bags, filled with green and pink buttercream were set aside, and Sanji let the cigarette fall from his mouth so he could ask in a reverent breath, "What will you do with the green and pink bags?"

Usopp slowly, carefully, catiously---relaxed, eyes full of doubt, suspicion, and anxiety. He flicked his eyes down to Sanji's leg, and then back up to Sanji, who was walking forward, his eyes only on Usopp's cake.

"Green... for leaves, and the pink is for a big rose for the top. I thought about... putting dewdrops on the petals... but I don't... I couldn't find any blue... for... for the buttercream," Usopp answered carefully.

"I ran out of the dye drops when I made Nami's birthday cake," Sanji admitted. He had made her an ocean. A cake with rolling waves, and dusted in gold glitter. He had been proud. That cake was nothing, compared to Usopp's half-finished masterpiece.

Sanji turned to his pantry, and disappeared before reappearing with a head of red cabbage. With a dismissive wave, he muttered, "Keep working. I'll make you blue dye."

Usopp watched Sanji chop the head of cabbage, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But Sanji made no movement towards him. Neither leg nor voice was raised. For now... Usopp was alive, and seemingly given permission to continue with his project.

He turned back to his task of shaping flowers into the cake.

With nervous energy, Usopp created his pristine flowers. Sanji was saying nothing. Not asking about how Usopp broke into the fridge, or why he was doing what he was doing. The kitchen was silent.

After thirty or so minutes, Usopp went back to his work, consumed by his edible art project.

Sanji in the meantime sent the cabbage to boil, and after twenty or so minutes strained the cabbage. He set it aside for later. He could make stirfry tomorrow, perhaps, or sneak it into an omelet. No... maybe the stirfry was best. Sanji could decide later. With the purple water, he poured it carefully into a pan, and slowly began to reduce it. A task that should take him at least forty-five minutes.

In that time, he would sneak looks at Usopp's hands. The sniper, with the gentlest of touches, was shaping a yellow petal, curling it gently as if it was naturally blooming. He worked slowly, and quietly, his face focused on his task completely. Sanji was in awe. Why in the world, had Usopp never baked a cake before? Sanji hoped, sincerely hoped, he hadn't chased Usopp out and away from the kitchen, but Sanji couldn't recall the sniper ever asking to bake something.

To Sanji's knowledge, Usopp hadn't shown any interest in baking before.

Well, maybe eating the baked goods, but not making them.

When the purple cabbage liquid had reduced enough, Sanji poured it into a bowl and added a tablespoon of baking soda. He stirred it slowly, and the concoction bubbled slightly, and then... the deep purple liquid shifted into a rich deep blue. Smiling, he picked up the bowl and brought it over to Usopp. The whole method had taken Sanji almost two hours... and in that time Usopp had completed his cake.

The cake was a garden. A living mound of yellow and orange flowers, with a big pink rose on top, bloomed and curling delicately on the top.

Sanji offered the bowl to Usopp, "Natural blue dye. It may... weaken your buttercream a little, so don't use a lot,"

Usopp startled, looking up at Sanji. He had forgotten the cook was there. He nodded numbly, and took the bowl. Dipping his spoon in the blue dye, he transferred it to his white buttercream and stirred, creating a very gentle blue. He pulled a chopstick from the counter, already lightly coated in various colors, and gently added light blue dew drops to his flower.

Sixteen total and he was done.

Gawking, the pair stood over the cake and Sanji let out a shaky breath, "How?"

Usopp shrugged, shrinking into himself. For once, a lie didn't spring to his lips. He seemed at a loss for how to answer.

"Usopp... this... this is beautiful. How did you learn to do this?" Sanji asked again. He was beyond exhausted, and now that the cake was completed, he remembered he had come in here to start preparing meat for dinner tomorrow, and then prepping breakfast for the crew. He peaked out the door, the sky already begining to grow pale.

He'd have to change the menu today in order to feed everyone on time.

He looked at the cake. It made him emotional in a way that only truly marvelous food could.

This beautiful cake was worth changing his menu.

"How?" Sanji asked again, and then an excitable, "Why?"

Usopp, twiddled his messy fingers, "Mom used to make cakes. For fun. And she was pretty good. We always made one together... and went all out on her birthday. I... I kept up the tradition. Even after she was..." Usopp shrugged a shoulder again, sealing his mouth shut.

Sanji looked at Usopp, a frown set on his face, "We've been on the sea for years."

Usopp nodded, "Yeah."

"And you get up, in the dead of night, and do this? Alone?"

"Yup," Usopp murmured popping the 'p,' loudly.

"What do you do with the cake?" Sanji asked looking back at Usopp's new creation. It had to be three-layered. It was a hearty cake.

"Eat it in a private place, before anyone knows," Usopp mutters again, and then laughs, "Always makes me super sick."

Sanji is hugging Usopp before he is aware he wants to. Usopp hesitates, but then clings to him. Sanji, spotless, clings to the dirty young man in his arms, Usopp's strong arms somehow foreign to the Usopp in Sanji's mind's eye. In his head, Usopp is still small, still scared and unsure, and still needing protection. This Usopp is stronger now, and surer of himself, he really doesn't need to be coddled. But Sanji squeezes him, thinks of the years Usopp had spent alone, sneakily making a cake to honor his mother, and thinks Usopp could still use a little protecting.

Or at least some support.

"Ask. Any time you want to bake... just.... just ask! It can't interrupt our mealtimes, but I'm not going to stop you from doing a family tradition," Sanji says, voice thick.

Usopp trembles against Sanji a little, and nods his head. The, 'thanks,' he mutters is very faint and weak, but Sanji hears it.

They push away from each other, and Sanji looks at the cake, so Usopp can hide his tears. He's seen Usopp cry before, but knows Usopp would appreciate him not looking now.

Usopp clears his throat and picks up a knife, and Sanji gasps as Usopp cuts into the cake.

"No!"

Usopp laughs at Sanji's horror, "It can't last forever, let's eat up."

Sanji sighs, knowing Usopp is right, but still... he's a little sad to see the cake cut so soon. It should be displayed for longer, or allowed to set up in the fridge. He shakes his head with regret as Usopp offers him a slice. Sanji takes the extended cake and then asks, "Are you sure I can have a piece?"

Usopp cuts himself a slice, toppling it gently on the plate. A flower smooshes, and Sanji mourns again. Usopp smiles, "Your hard work deserves a reward! Besides... I'd like to hear what you think. I've had to guess at the measurements, but this is just like figuring out gunpowder ratios..."

Sanji snorts, "Ah, so baking is just edible chemistry to you?"

Usopp grins, his eyes still brimmed with unshed tears. He waggles his eyebrows and adds, "Most of my ammo is just edible chemistry."

They share a quiet laugh.

Sanji takes a bite. It is plain vanilla, and a little denser than he likes, but it is decent. Good, even. With some coaching in flavor, Usopp could make his cake taste as exceptional as it looks. He smiles, "...Maybe next year I could help you change the flavor. Lemon? Or even rose and saffron to go with your theme..."

Usopp blushes, "You'd... you'd like to do this again with me?"

Sanji nods, taking another bite, scooping up a half bloomed yellow rose on his fork. He examines the piece before grinning back at the sniper, "If you'll let me."

Usopp puffed up his chest, "Why the great Captain Usopp, famous Pâtissier amongst the beautiful mermaids in all the sea, would be glad to have you along!" He took an exaggerated bite of his cake, and added, "It's easier to eat a cake between two people anyway."

Sanji swallows his chunk, a gentle gaze landing on Usopp's face, "You don't want to share this cake with the crew?"

Some of Usopp's bravado deflates, and his hand trembles a little as he takes another bite, "N-Not... not this year."

Sanji nods, and runs a hand over Usopp's back. He lets them have peace for another few minutes. Sanji keeps his hand on Usopp's back the whole time.

When Sanji's piece of cake is gone, he picks up a dishtowel and swats it at Usopp's face, "Clean my kitchen up! I'll work on the cake. it better be sparkling by the time I finish my half."

"But! But-"

Sanji leveled a glare at Usopp, "You messed it up, you clean it! And chop, chop! Or Luffy's gonna know who to be mad at when breakfast is delayed!"

Usopp jumped up, and rushed for the utility closet, tripping over his feet in his hurry. Sanji snickered and turned back to the cake. Picking up the spatula Usopp had used to shape a gently sloping leaf, Sanji tries to turn it upwards. He ruins it as soon as he touches it. 

He shook his head, marveling at Usopp's skill again.

Usopp was an artist.

Usopp cried out as he spilled half a bucket of water on the floor.

He was lucky this cake was so astounding, or he'd be a dead artist for the dreadful state of Sanji's kitchen!

"You better not scratch my floors!" Sanji growled in warning, stabbing another piece of cake.

He feels a little bit of pleasure from Usopp's worried whimper.

[kylosbrickhousebody]

Ch. 4 of Quiet Hours is up

Ch. 4 of my super weird sadfic about KyloRen/Reader is up. If you liked Mercurial, you will probably (eventually) like this, too. NSFW

She stares at it for a long time—longer than she truly has to spend given that she’s already been separated from her work group. Her taskmaster is probably terribly confused; she’ll probably already face a beating when she goes back.

Still, the wonder of it holds her in place.

A credit.

Kylo Ren gave her a credit?

It’s there, unmistakable, on the table.

She blinks once, twice, three times, pressing her eyes closed tighter with repetition.

It just seems unbelievable. She’s never seen a real credit up close before.

She stares dumbly for a moment longer before realizing she should probably return it to him.

Having a credit on her person—well, it’s likely not even legal. Slaves can’t own anything, let alone carry currency. Possessing a credit is probably some sort of high crime.

She runs over to the doorway, peeks her head out into the austere hallways.

“Sir?”

She looks left; right.

There’s no one there.

Little legs carry her to one end of the hallway, where it splits into two leading to and away from the Bridge.

“Sir?”

Nothing. No response, no one in sight.

She runs to the other end, a little panicked now, whipping her head from side to side to try to catch a glimpse of him—the coattails of his cape, maybe, turning a corner somewhere in the distance.

Again: nothing.

She bites a lip and hurries back into the small room where he once sat.

It’s still there, still on the table where he’d left it.

She peers back at the doorway before she shoves it into the scratchy lining of one of her frock’s pockets.

Then she scurries out the door, into the foyer, down the passageways leading back to the Bridge. It’s critical that she re-join her group. If she doesn’t, she won’t be accounted for in the next check, and that means a guaranteed beating. Even worse, losing track of one’s group means she’ll likely miss both the next feeding and her next refresher break.

She nearly runs into one of the huge blaster doors guarding the entrance to the Bridge.

She bows her head at two of the elite squadron Stormtroopers stationed as guards.

“Could you please—erm—could you please let me in? My group was assigned to cleaning duties here, and—”

“Scram, filth.”

“I—yes, sir, I understand—but please, I need to rejoin my group, and—”

“I said,” one of the troopers says, shoving the butt of his blaster into her ribs, “scram.”

“Yes—yes, sir. Yes—”

She turns, quickly, and hurries down the hallway.

The cold sheet metal venting on the floor digs into her bare feet as she scurries out of the Stormtroopers’ line-of-sight.

They’re not going to let her in, and she certainly isn’t going to get away with tailgating an authorized person into the Bridge. She looked terribly out of place there—well, all the slaves did—and she wouldn’t even pass for a servant. The raggedy, unwashed standard issue of the slave uniform see to that all on their own.

She pauses to catch her breath in one of the less frequented tunnels. She presses her back up against the wall, the cool metal pressing into her shoulders. It grounds her a little, reminds her that she’s still alive somehow.

She waits a long moment, trying to clear her thoughts, savoring how pressing up against the wall slightly soothes her aching lumbar region.

She’s lost. So, so lost. She’s never been to this area of the ship before. Usually she cleans servant sleeping quarters, or the hallways in the hull: areas with predictable designs, created to maximize space and cram the greatest number of bodies and workspaces into the confines of the ship.

It’s clear now, though, that she’s very far out of her depth. The series of hallways she finds herself in doesn’t match the maze that she’s used to. This area of the ship is clearly designed for something else: comfort. Luxury. Flashiness.

None of it looks familiar at all.

She walks down more hallways, timid, trying to project as much feeble respect as she can in case she gets spotted. She presses her right hand up against the right walls, making every right turn she’s presented with. That should eventually get her somewhere, right?

Right?

It’s because of this frantic, desperate strategy that she finds herself actually relieved when she encounters another station of Stormtroopers. They stand guard against glass walls which look somehow familiar—maybe she passed them with her group—and she approaches as respectfully as she can.

“I’m afraid I’m lost, sirs,” she starts.

No answer.

The troopers look between each other. No doubt that she’s a strange sight.

“I was stationed with my group—we were cleaning—and I got pulled away for, erm, a specific cleaning assignment. Pulled away by a superior, I mean,” she adds quickly. “I didn’t just leave! I tried to go back to join up with my group again after I finished, but I couldn’t locate them again. I think by now they’ve likely moved on to another area of the ship. Could you possibly help me, please?”

One trooper tilts his helmet.

“Yeah, we could help you, honey. We could both help you. Right over in that break room, in fifteen minutes, when we get off shift. We’ll help you real good.”

She swallows, hard, shuffles a little bit in her place.

“Erm. I—no, thank you. I appreciate, uh…” she trails off. “Could you please tell me what time it is?”

It’s the other one who replies.

“11:43.”

Oh.

Much later than she’d thought.

She’d must have wasted precious time navigating the ship—or maybe the time spent with the Supreme Leader lasted longer than she thought—

She realizes, with a severe pang of regret, that she’s missed her daily feeding and one of only two refresher breaks.

“I—oh, okay, thank you—um—” she pauses, fraught with indecision about what she could possibly ask that might receive a real answer. “Do you know where I might be able to report to?”

“No idea,” the first trooper answers, sounding harsher this time, “but down those steps would be a good start. I’d get going before we report you for trespassing up here.”

That makes her blanch all the way white.

“Yes—yes, sir—of course—”

She hurries in the direction indicated, down a flight of stairs made from metal grating which tears at the underside of her dirty feet.

She emerges into a small atrium, simply relieved that she’s been able to get this far without a keycard.

Perhaps she’ll run into someone more approachable—an enlisted person, or maybe even a servant—who can direct her back to an overseer or taskmaster, back to her group. All she wants is to lay low, to do her work, to get the day done with.

She takes a right and walks down an arterial hallway lined with black pillars. There are sounds up ahead, she thinks; there’s faint clacking, fainter voices. She follows the noises, hesitant but nevertheless ready to accept her punishment and get it on with it, and soon finds herself tiptoeing closer to a broad sheet of glass windowing.

She peers in, obscuring most of her body behind the opaque paneling next to where the windows begin.

She discerns quickly that the room is some sort of feeding center; it’s set up similarly to the ones used to feed slaves, but this one is bigger, cushier. Cafeterias, she thinks they call them.

Multiple stations with multiple different kinds of foods line the walls. The people within—enlisted officers, it seems—actually talk to one another. Some even smile.

There are real tables and chairs—comfortable-looking ones—and refreshers off to the side for use at any time. It baffles her a little to watch the officers within just excuse themselves from conversations to use the refresher whenever they want.

And there: she spots what will become the primary temptation of the room. There, towards the edge of the feeding room, closest to her, sits a small table. She’s not sure exactly what the sign says, but the intention is clear. A small coffer rests beneath the sign emblazoned with some words and then the symbol for a credit. To the right and left of the coffer sit an arrangement of baked goods: odds and ends of assorted breads, day-old buns and pastries.

Just the mere sight makes her stomach rumble.

Slaves are usually only fed a porridge-like gruel once a day—it’s packed with all the nutrients you need! they say—and left to live life perpetually hungry for something more.

She’s certainly no stranger to hunger. It reflects in her body: in her lack of strength, her hair and her nails, the constant acidity that tinges her mouth from a stomach completely empty and angrily rumbling for more.

How bad would it be—truly be? —if she snuck into the room, placed her newfound credit into the coffer, and took a piece of bread?

She wouldn’t be stealing, she figures. After all, she truly does have the required credit.

And, true, while slaves aren’t supposed to eat food they aren’t explicitly given, its clear that the table is for cast-asides, for goods from yesterday.

She wouldn’t really be hurting anybody if she took something to eat on her way back to her group, would she?

The intense rumble of her stomach seems to provide an answer. She swallows back the newest wave of stomach bile and acid and walks into the room, confidently as she can muster, over to the table.

She tries not to look out of place, tries not to glance around to see if anyone is watching her: that would only draw more attention than her appearance does on its own.

She digs into her pocket and grasps the credit, then drops it quickly into the collecting coffer.

Her eyes survey the goods on the table a little greedily. There’s a half-torn bagel; a very dry-looking croissant; small end pieces of stale bread.

It takes a few moments before she sees it, but when she does, she knows its for her. It’s a small raisin bun, less stale-looking than her other options, small enough that she might conceal it in her pocket. She takes it and, indeed, pockets it, making quickly for the entryway.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” She turns, nervously, open-mouthed, to meet the eyes of an officer. “I just watched you steal, slave.”

“I—no, no, sir—I paid for it. I paid for it; I swear.”

“Paid for it with all that money they give you, did ya?”

“No—really—I had a credit, and—”

“You had a credit. Of course. And I have a luxury villa in Canto Blight, that’s why I work as a jailsman in the First Order. Please.”

The man moves forward, takes her by the arm.

“I know just the place to send you for punishment today. Consider yourself in luck. You’ll be getting a very special treat.”

“No—please—truly, I paid for it—”

“And even if you did,” he cuts across her, “you have no business in the cantina of your betters. You were trespassing at a minimum. And where exactly is your post? Aren’t you worked nearly all hours of the day?”

“I—well, see, that’s the thing—”

“Right. That is exactly the thing.”

“I—”

“Be quiet, slave-girl.”

She blanches white for the second time that day, falls completely silent. Her heart pounds out of her chest. She feels delirious.

He leads her back nearly the same way that she came: up the stairs, up past the two troopers stationed nearby, down an adjacent hallway.

He stops clear of a heavy metal door, which he unlocks manually with a set of keys tied to a clip on his waistband.

He rips the raisin bun out of her pocket just before shoving her into the room.

“I’m sure he’ll enjoy practicing his mysticism on you. Very painful, or so I’ve heard.” He cocks his head, considering. “Well, based on all the screams, that is.”

The door slams shut.

She manages only to make it to the other side of the room—a hexagonal cell, gray and dark and ominous—before she sinks down to her knees, the adrenaline rush shakes proving far too much for her joints and weak muscles to handle.

It’s exactly here that she curls up for the better part of an unknown amount of time.

The acid from her increasingly angry stomach burns her esophagus.

The hotness of her tears streak down the dry skin of her cheeks.

This is how she lies some number of hours later, slipping between light sleep and terrifying reality when the door opens again.

Heavy footsteps echo on the plate floors.

The metal door locks with a clang.

A tall, black figure stares down at her from within the shadow of the doorframe.

Kylo Ren.

[i-am-here-with-fanfic]

The Illegitimate Son- Ch. 3 2/2

           Aria was in her room, laying outstretched on the bed, tears staining her cheeks. She was stressed but worked up the strength to shout from her room. “Alright, I made some sandwiches to snack on. Feel free to make some dessert, Faian. I think we could use some later…” 

           She got up, trudging to the mirror hanging on the wall and saw how messy she looked. She didn’t even get out of her work uniform and her hair certainly looked like she was in a rush. Taking a deep breath, she began to fix herself up. She started with her hair, then changed into different clothes and nodded to herself.  

           ‘Here goes nothing…’ she thought. Looking next to the mirror, she gazed at the three framed pictures on the wall. Aaron never entered her room out of respect, so he had no idea as to how it was decorated, or that she had those three pictures. 

           The first picture was of a blond boy, with ruffled hair and two long bangs that were nearly blocking his eyes. He had a missing tooth, but he showed off his smile at the Kindergarten picture day.  

           The second was from when she had taken the two camping when they were ten. Aaron had dyed his hair by then, styling it back, and was trying to hug Faian as he wore a goofy grin. Faian, sporting a similar smile, kept him at bay with his tail. 

           The third one was a picture of Aaron in his ice-skating uniform, winning first place in the local juvenile league and qualifying for state. He was definitely proud of himself, showing off his gold medal to his mom as he stood atop the pedestal. It was taken just a couple months before Aaron graduated middle school and Faian received his provisional license. 

           Aria fought the urge to sob as she tore herself from the smiles of her son. With a shaky breath and a few fans at her face, she steeled herself as she stepped out of the bedroom.  

           Walking towards the kitchen, Faian spotted her first as he sat across from Aaron, whose back was turned.  

           “Mum.” 

           “Hey, Mom.” Aaron turned with a light smile.  

           “Hey, sweethearts… how was school?”  

           “It was cool…” Aaron muttered, swirling his glass around dejectedly.  

           Faian knew he was lying, and he easily picked up on Aria’s discomfort. Without skipping a beat, he broke the tension by recounting about his day. He glazed over most of his classes but went into detail about the hero training. They performed what was called a ‘Battle Trial’, pitting pairs of students against each other in hypothetical scenarios. Unfortunately, he did not get to actively participate as the teacher had showed a recording of him performing a similar exercise with some second years when he first began the process of transferring back in September of last year, followed by him having to give a thorough analysis of each pair of students. 

           “That’s amazing! I can’t believe they’re already having you guys train.” Aria responded, relaxing a little. 

           “It is not much different than the college back in the States, but I do hope I get to do more than just act as an aide.” 

           Aaron smiled and shook his head. “Imagine if Eraserhead was there; I saw him one time and, oh my god, I couldn’t stop trembling. He looks so intimidating.” 

           Aria continued chatting with the two, easing herself as Aaron talked more about his day; however, when he checked his phone for the time, Aria spoke up, her demeanor changing. 

           “Oh, I told your Coach you wouldn’t be skating today.”  

           Aaron had a questioning look in his eyes, but it soon went away as his mother continued.  

           “Well, I need the time to tell you about who your father is…and to explain how… how it all happened.”  

           She was hesitant at first, but as she took Aaron’s hands in her own, squeezing them to reassure herself, she continued. “What I did… I am not a perfect being, but what I did was unforgiveable. Before you learn who your father is, I-I want to tell you how it happened.” 

           Aaron didn’t understand what was going on, but he gave a nervous smile and urged her to continue. Faian gave them both a reassuring smile before getting up to make some coffee, tea, and brownies. 

           I had just gotten my hero license part way through school. At the time, I was working with a friend, Jae, who wanted to create a costume of metal that worked with my Quirk. She was heavily inspired by Vikings and medieval knights, so of course it was going to be flashy. Jae knew David Shield, an intelligent scientist who specialized in creating support items and hero costumes so, we all worked together. Between them two, he was the hard-working one, and I offered to buy him lunch as a thank you for helping her. 

           When we decided on a place to go, Jae joined us as I wanted to thank her, too, for coming up with the idea; however, on our way to the restaurant we heard an explosion. Forgetting about lunch, we immediately ran over to the burning building. I couldn’t stop thinking about the people trapped inside and I ran in without thinking. 

           I was carrying two people when I heard cheering from outside. It was odd but I thought a more well-known hero had arrived, so I hurried to get those I was carrying to the paramedics before rushing back inside. Being a newer hero, some of the law enforcement tried to stop me, not knowing I was able to help, but also because the building was beginning to collapse. I couldn’t just stand aside knowing I was capable of helping. 

           After finding a few more people, I began to lead them out, using my battle-axe to shield us from falling debris and cutting through any rubble in our path. Unfortunately, a column had collapsed next to us, and the ceiling began to cave in. Without a moment to lose, I pushed the civilians through the exit. Within seconds, I was buried under tons of rubble. Although I was still conscious thanks to my Quirk, the smoke was suffocating, and the roaring fire lapped at my skin. I could barely hear the shouting outside, and I thought I heard someone mention that I was still inside. Whatever the case, I soon blacked out. 

           I woke up in a hospital bed, half expecting to be dead. I would’ve been fine if I was; I got to save a lot of people, after all. Turns out, your father was the one who saved me, and he came along with David and Jae in the ambulance. I was told they wouldn’t leave my room, except when one went to get food for the others. When I finally woke up, it was just your dad, sitting in a much too small chair to my left. 

           Aria smiled thoughtfully as she recalled the first time she met Aaron’s father. While he was still unsure of where she was going with this, it did calm Aaron to see his mom had positive memories about his dad. 

           As did the scent of his tea, Faian’s absurdly strong coffee, and whatever chocolatey goodness was baking in the oven. 

           He was staring intently at the monitor, and he didn’t notice I had woken up. Until I spoke, of course. He had such a handsome face that I was somewhat intimidated, and I ended up blurting out “Are you an angel?”

           Understandably, that had taken him by surprise. He was really awkward trying to explain himself, fortunately, Jae and David had arrived with some food and helped clear the air. Turns out, he was a transfer student with this captivating idea of becoming a symbol and pillar for the people, and David had made him a suit out of gratitude to help inspire others. 

           Soon after I recovered, Jae finished her project and told me to use the armor set as much as I wanted, and that if it ever broke, I can return it to her to get it fixed. I was glad that I had the costume because I could go out and help people in need with your father. His blinding determination and faith was contagious, I wanted nothing more than to help him in any way I could. But… All things have to come to an end, and even though he had decades ahead of him, I was still terrified of what might happen once he was gone. 

           Aria’s shoulders slumped as she hung her head, resting her cheek in the palm of her hand. Her eyes held a deep regret as she paused to take a breath. Aaron was gradually beginning to connect the dots as Faian’s eyes were wide in disbelief, his vertical pupils easily noticeable. 

           Eventually, he returned to Japan, but I couldn’t shake this uneasy feeling that something might happen. With every news report that covered his heroics, I grew more and more paranoid. 

           What if it was a trap?

           What if he didn’t make it this time? 

           What if…? 

           So many different tragedies ran through my head, and even when he came back to America years later to catch up with David, I still had those crippling thoughts. So, I came up with an idea, and made a secret promise to him that no matter what happened, he would have someone to continue his legacy. 

           Choking back sobs, Aria took a moment to compose herself, terrified of what her son may think of her. Faian gave her a light pat on the shoulder while Aaron had one hand covering his mouth, the other clutching his teacup tightly as tears welled in his eyes. Those brilliant blue eyes that were so very much like his father’s. 

           “I invited him out for drinks, and…” she wiped the tears from her eyes with the hem of her blouse, “and what we did… what I did… It was unforgivable… Fuck. Aaron, please know th-that I did what I-I thought was r-right… I gave him his heir. I had you…” 

           Aaron was silent, uncertain how to react. As his mother stood up to give him a hug, to try and reaffirm that she does actually love him, Aaron flinched. He clutched his stomach in pain, quickly excusing himself by saying ‘I don’t feel so…’ and rushing to the kitchen sink, retching uncontrollably. He held onto the sink for dear life, his knees buckling and needing Faian to support him as he continued to vomit. 

           When Aaron had finished, panting heavily, he turned to face his mom. Wiping off his saliva, he muttered “Who… who is my dad?” 

           Aria looked down at her feet, trying to find her words. Finally meeting his gaze, she answered the question he had longed to know. “Aaron… Your father… His name is Toshinori Yagi, better known as the Symbol of Peace- All Might.” 

           Faian was quick to catch Aaron, helping him to the table for a seat. Aria was kneeling by him, her arms holding him close as she cried into his shoulder. Aaron was still in shock, and Aria was in no condition to continue.  

           “I am not one for speaking when it is not desired, but I cannot, and shall not, lose another family. Mother, you clearly know you have done something awful, that alone is admirable, and you have spent so many years trying to right that wrong. It shows. I do not think Aaron would have wanted to model himself after you if you did not atone for your sin.” 

           Faian’s voice washed over Aria as she looked up at him, a soft inviting smile on his lips and his arms open. She stood, lingering by Aaron’s side before leaning into her adopted son’s embrace. His steady heartbeat calming her, he turned his attention towards Aaron. 

           “Brother. I do not pretend to know what you must be going through. My parents may have been heroes, and my great grandmother instrumental in normalizing Quirks; however, your father is a symbol. That is not to be taken lightly, but please understand that you do not need to follow in his footsteps. I think Mum has made that clear over the years.” 

           Aaron stood from his seat, steadying himself with the table before joining Faian and his mother in the embrace, tears streaming down his face as Aria burst into tears once more.  

           “No matter what stories we may weave, or the tales we may spin, there is no fathomable way to avoid the truth. We must accept it, and while it may render us apart, it is only temporary. We are indomitable, and we will continue to grow and learn and better ourselves in ways we cannot begin to imagine. I have no doubt that we will have our share of disagreements but know this- For so long as my heart beats, it beats for the two of you.”

--- 

           Aaron watched the streetlights pass by, his head leaning against the cool glass of the car door window. Once everyone had composed themselves, it was agreed that Aaron would spend the night at Faian’s, as he and Aria would need some time apart. Currently, Aria was driving to the two-story Victorian, her eyes fixated on the road ahead of her. Faian sat in the passenger seat, holding a parcel of the brownies he had baked during the reveal. 

           When they arrived, Aria was afraid to give Aaron a hug or approach him. She was terrified he saw her as a villain, and when he refused to meet her gaze, her eyes began to sting. With a simple nod, she turned to Faian and hugged him, thanking him for his help and letting him know she’ll pick Aaron up after school. 

           Aria drove off and Faian opened the door for Aaron. As they entered, Aaron spoke for the first time since leaving his mom’s apartment. 

           “I forgot to tell her I love her…” 

           “Aaron…” 

           “Do you think she loved him? I mean, really loved him. She’s a huge fan, but I… I don’t know…” 

           Faian only gave Aaron a reassuring hug before leading him to the guest room upstairs. After suggesting he take a bath before getting some sleep, Faian kissed Aaron on his forehead, wishing him a ‘pleasant night’ and leaving him to his thoughts. 

           Alone in the room, Aaron could only do as Faian suggested, still in shock that he is the son of the single greatest hero known to humanity. It shook him to his core, but he knew he had to figure something out. 

           Does he believe Faian and return to his mother, accepting the truth and begin a new chapter in his life? 

           Or does he reject it, pretending it was all just an elaborate lie and live in denial knowing he could do more? 

           He sat on the bed, his damp hair framing his face as he stared intently at the bedroom door. With a deep, shuddering sigh, Aaron shook his head as he came to his decision. Climbing under the covers, he kept to one side of the bed, his arms outstretched towards the empty half. He wept with a racing mind and heavy heart, unaware that halfway across town, his mother was curled up on his bed, a picture of her holding a newborn baby as she lay in a hospital bed resting on a pillow beside her. 

           Meanwhile, Faian stood in the middle of a room lined with bookshelves burdened by books and mementos, a projector hanging overhead as a magic circle slowly spun beneath him, the room bathed in an ethereal glow of gold and silver. 

           No one got much sleep that night. 

---

Beta Reader, Editor, and Collaborator- @starrylegend

[bloomsburgu]

Bank branch manager completes 17-year college journey with BASTL degree and 4.0 GPA

Alicia Frederick’s (Enola, Pa.) journey to college graduate began more than 17 years ago with baking and pastry art classes at a school in Rhode Island. The journey will reach a climax on Saturday when she walks across the stage at Bloomsburg University to receive a bachelor of applied science in technical leadership (BASTL) with a perfect 4.0 GPA.

In between the start and end of her journey, she became a wife, mother, and leader in the corporate world, working for 15 years in banking, including the last 12 as a branch manager. The opportunity to graduate from BU first started with Frederick going back to school at Harrisburg Area Community College (HAAC).  

“I started at HACC in 2006 when I was an assistant manager at a bank outside of the Harrisburg area,” said Frederick. “However, I stopped taking classes when I was promoted to branch manager and had a longer commute. Life got ahead of me, and I couldn’t make school a priority. Then in 2014, I took a new job closer to home at M&T Bank. My son was now in middle school, and I found that I could make school a priority again. It always bothered me that I hadn’t finished my degree although I spent more than two years in school.”

As a non-traditional student, Frederick juggled the typical problems of working all day and studying at night.

“You give up all of your ‘free’ time to focus on your education,” said Frederick. “Each semester, I carried 9-12 credits and worked through winter and summer semesters while at HACC and Bloomsburg to complete my degrees as quickly as possible. I graduated with a 3.87 at HACC and will graduate with a 4.0 at Bloomsburg. This means that every free night and weekend was spent on projects, papers, and discussion boards.”

“I also keep a busy schedule outside of my schoolwork,” Frederick added. “Depending on the time of year, I could also have up to three events in the evenings representing my employer. It was a challenge when trying to juggle all of those obligations and still get everything done. It was also challenging when I had group projects with traditional learners who wanted to meet during the day.”

Through all her challenges and headaches, did she never once regret putting herself through the process.

“Absolutely not,” said Frederick. “I knew that I had put so much time and effort into my schooling already; it would have been foolish not to finish.  At 17 years of age, I started at Johnson and Wales University for baking and pastry arts and became homesick rather quickly. As you can imagine, not many of those credits carried over to my associate’s degree. However, with the credits I earned at HACC in my early 20’s, I was closer to finishing up my degree when I returned in 2015. Although it took me almost 14 years start to finish, it was incredibly important for me to finish it. Originally I didn’t intend to get my bachelor’s, but the opportunity at BU was too good to pass up.”

At Bloomsburg, the BASTL program was a perfect fit for Frederick.

“Since I had such a mix of credits, my degree from HACC was in business studies,” said Frederick. “Most universities require a student to take additional classes to have an associate degree in business management before it allows you to transfer. Bloomsburg allowed me the opportunity to transfer my existing degree without requiring me to take anything further. Also, all of my credits from Johnson and Wales transferred over as my electives. When it was all said I done, I only needed to complete 43 credits at Bloomsburg and one additional elective to complete my degree.”

For Frederick, the questions become what will she do next, and where does she want to end up.

“As a branch manager for 12 years, the next logical step is to be a regional retail manager or a business banking relationship manager at M&T,” Frederick continued. “But, I would love to work as a community relations manager where I can interact and assist non-profits and be involved in event planning. Volunteering and planning are both passions of mine.”

Whatever Frederick ultimately ends up doing, one thing is guaranteed, she will have savored the journey to get there.

After consulting with employers who are looking for skilled managers, Bloomsburg University created its Bachelor of Applied Science in Technical Leadership program primarily for individuals with associate degrees who work and need flexibility.

The program accepts up to 60 associate degree credits, and half the BASTL classes are online, with the rest taught at Bloomsburg’s partner institutions: Bucks County Community College, Community College of Philadelphia, Harrisburg Area Community College, Lehigh Carbon Community College, Northampton Community College and Reading Area Community College, as well as at the State System of Higher Education campus in Center City Philadelphia.

[prince-dongju]

Enemies to lovers requested by my cute Potato Anon :D Sort of like Pride and Prejudice?

Member: Renjun

If you had to see his face once more time, jail time may be in your future. When you decided to run for student body president, they should have told you. Someone had failed to inform you of your competition, which would have been greatly appreciated. 

Hwang Renjun was only the biggest suck-up in your whole class. The only thing higher than his GPA was his hyper-inflated ego. Three years of high school have been marked by a constant power struggle in the classroom. A battle was waged, granting the victor a perch at the top of the pyramid. When you noticed his grades slipping, you would pounce, rising on top. The same would be said vice-versa. You were sure you had met your greatest foe. 

Walking into the auditorium to see his face plastered on the screen was not a great way to start the assembly. This wasn’t planned. You two may be equals in the classroom, but the same can’t be said for social activity. Everywhere he went, Renjun had a crowd of followers hanging to his every word. Sure, you had friends, but nothing like he did. Being well-known is the way to win, and this  could push him over the edge. 

As you sat down, you noticed the shaking in your hands, anxiety flooding your body.  You had never been good with crowds, and with the added pressure, you may have passed out. With a blurry mind, the time passed quickly, and it was your time to speak. As you walked to the podium, you could barely breathe. “A-as your stu-student body president I propose....” Looking through the audience, you caught a glimpse of Renjun. His arms were folded, creasing his pristine suit coat almost as wide as the smirk creasing his face. If anything, this was the motivation you needed. A flare of anger pierced your chest. This brat! How dare he have the audacity to enjoy this! “I propose we increase the school dance budget, create a new school menu, and new sports equipment.” A large cheer erupted for the last one. The rest was a blur, a new confidence pushing you forward. You would settle for nothing less than the best, even if that meant destroying him.

“Kill me now.” Whoever controlled your life was really having fun. Maybe you could get away with murder....  hopefully. 

If your government teacher hadn’t decided to torture you, this year might have turned out okay. You blame him for all your problems, especially the partner project. But you didn’t get to choose your partner, that would have been too kind of him. And guess who your partner was. Renjun. For a week, all class time would be devoted to working on the project. A full week of pure torture. 

“What the hell did you just do!?” An outburst could be heard every thirty minutes from the room. This time, Renjun had tried to remove a picture you had spent thirty minutes searching for. At this point, even the teacher was regretting the pairing. Both of you were perfectionists, and too dang opinionated for your own good. 

“Why are we using this font? It looks as sloppy as your handwriting.” This was spit out with a sneer contorting his face, and his eyes rolling in their orbits. He shifted to face the rest of the groups, “Does anyone know where I can find a new partner? I’m willing to pay.” 

“SHut Up!” Slapping his arm felt good, even better when he gasped and rubbed his raw skin. “We have twenty more slides to create in two days! There’s no possible way to complete this in our forty minute classes. We have to meet up sometime. I know we have campaigns to work on-” 

“Exactly. You want me to take time away from my precious campaign to work on this crappy presentation?” 

“Crappy! Are you referring to the slide you made? The ONLY slide you made? Because I don’t think a Joe Biden meme is very professional!” 

“Oh, right.” The conditioning his eyes were getting was something body builders dream of. “If we want to talk about trash, how about slide twenty...”

After another day of arguing, you found yourself outside of Renjun’s house. The next few hours would be a living hell. Every atom of your being wanted to run away, but you also had an assignment to finish. Why was this so hard? Another rush of anxiety flooded you as you hit the doorbell. It only took a few seconds before a beautiful woman opened the door. 

“Hello. You must be y/n. I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Renjun’s mom.” A smell of baking cookies invited you into the house. Maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought it would be. Nope. It’s worse. At that precise moment, the dangerous enemy decided to make his entrance. Of course he had to have the cutest bed head, and the cutest glasses on his nose. Out of his school uniform, he didn’t look the same. He seemed care-free and approachable. With his face free from a sneer, he looked cute. Scratch that, he looked extremely attractive. 

“Oh. It’s you.” His harsh tone snapped you of the stupid haze you had fallen into. “Let’s get this done as soon as possible. I have better things to do.” And... he’s back.

His house was bigger than you had previously thought. The computer room was in the very back corner, allowing you to catch a glimpse into his world. Portraits from his childhood plastered the walls. You almost couldn’t comprehend how happy he looked. Renjun never fell down, never let himself slip, to think he was a child like you was almost impossible.  

With obvious disgust, he flung his hand toward the computer. “Here. Let’s hurry.” Three hours passed in almost silence, save for questions about picture placement, and wordings. By the time you decided to take a break only ten slides were done. The delay was mostly on your part. Renjun’s legs were situated much too close to you, and the constant rubbing of knees was not helping. And constantly whispering to himself near your ear sent shivers down your spine. Not to mention the aforementioned cute look he was sporting, It’s amazing you got anything done. After the words, “Take a break” were mentioned, you all but collapsed onto the desk. 

“Are you okay?” His words were guarded, almost afraid you would pounce if he asked you more.  

“It’s nothing. I mean, if you count not even starting on your campaign as nothing, then I’m just fine.” You’re surprised he even heard you, the words were a jumbled mess from your face being pressed to the desk. 

“What took you so long? It was the easiest speech I’ve ever written.” His confused tone invited you to sit up and explain yourself. 

“I’m not like you, Renjun. I can’t address a crowd without feeling light headed. I can’t write a speech without picking every bit apart. I’m not as good as you.” 

Well, this was clearly not the answer he was expecting. You also weren’t expecting how gentle his response was. “Don’t say that. I hate to admit this, but I’ve always thought your very smart. This project wouldn’t be half as good without you here.” Nothing made sense anymore. The one person you couldn’t stand just complimented you. Along with the kind words, his cheeks tinged a soft shade of red.   

At this point, you had mentally checked out. This conversation couldn’t go anywhere good, and you had a presentation to complete. You assured yourself multiple times that “people are bound to say stupid things past 10 pm,” but something felt weird inside you. You felt like your insides were on fire, and when you thought back on the words, a heat would grace your cheeks as well. All this, of course, was not unnoticed by you’re partner. In fact, he quite enjoyed it. Renjun begrudgingly decided you were unbelievably cute all flustered like that, and wanted to see it again. 

A week later, you somehow found yourself in Renjun’s house again. This time, It was also not by your own will. A party was being thrown for who knows what. It seemed that every weekend, there was a slew of people at his house. Being the introverted person you were, reading a good book was how you would celebrate your long awaited weekend. But of course your friend had to drag you to a party that you didn't want to even want to be at. This is how you ended up sitting in a circle, playing spin the bottle with Renjun and his friends. How mature, right?

As the bottle spinned, you prayed desperately it wouldn't land on you. After few rounds you had began to have a hope that you would be saved. But to no avail, Renjun stepped up to spin, and it all went downhill. His friends let out a great shout as the bottle pointed towards you.

You debated jumping out the window. Even if it was the second story, it would be better than this torture. When he looked up at you, his cheeks were filled with natural blush and his eyes met yours for a second before continuting to dance nervously across the floor. It was just as bad for him as it was for you. You tried to play it cool and act like it was no big deal while he, on the other hand, acted like he didn't want to move it all. But with your friends egging you on, and the threat humiliation in the air, he slowly stood up and walked the five feet to where you sat.

You most definitely did not want to have your first kiss in front of all your friends. And the partner was not ideal either. His hands shook he brushed a lock of hair behind your ears. He gently took your face in his hand and in positioned it towards his. His eyes never met yours, the situation being too awkward for eye contact. With one last push from his friends, he began the move in. When his face was an inch from yours, your eyes involuntary fluttered shut.

The kiss lasted than a second, but it was enough to make your insides all tingly and your lips still felt the pressure of his. As he pulled away, a cheer erupted from the crowd, which gathered to watch. Unbeknownst to you, the whole party moved to watch the two biggest rivals in the school lock lips. Embarrassment filled your being, and you ran for the door. You should have never gone to this stupid party in the first place.

You never wanted to be the center of everyone's attention and this time was the worst of all. You felt publicly humiliated and would never live this down. As you reach your car, you felt a hand grab your arm, instantly whipping you around to face them. When Renjun had followed you, he was angry and fully prepared to scold you for leaving him alone in the awkward situation. But, as he witnessed the tears streaking your face, and the genuine hurt you felt, his heart broke. Pulling you into his arms felt natural, a sudden urge to comfort you taking control. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings.” 

Because he sounded so genuine, and because you felt in need of comfort, you allowed yourself to cry into his shoulder. The same boy who had ripped you apart many times, was now helping you pull yourself together. Why? Renjun had changed drastically those past two weeks, from wanting to best you, to holding you, and even kissing you. Nothing made sense, and you needed answers. 

“Renjun?” Pulling away was harder than you thought. “What’s going on? All these years you’ve acted like you hated me, and now you’re acting so kind. Why?” 

He sighed and collected his thoughts before he spoke “I don’t know y/n. I really don’t know. For years I tried to push myself past you, I wanted to be better than you. Until this month, I had never paid attention to you, only to your grades. When we were forced to communicate, I realized I was wrong. You aren’t a ruthless enemy, you’re gentle and compassionate. I honestly wish I would have known this sooner, if I would have taken the time to get to know you, we could have had an amazing friendship. Maybe something more.” When he said this, the thumping in your chest sped up. “I’m sorry I waited so long, if you want, we can get to know each other better. What do you say?” He looked so vulnerable in this moment. Like he was scared of your response.

Of course you did the sensible thing when a boy had just apologized/ confessed to you. You ran. Not trusting yourself to say the right thing, you removed yourself from his hold, and promptly drove home. 

For the next week, you were an emotional mess. Did you like Renjun? Did you still hate Renjun? He was so kind a week ago, and you could still feel the inviting pressure of his lips on yours. You didn’t hate him for sure, and the feelings definitively ran deeper than just an acquaintance. But how to face him again? He surely hated you for leaving him high and dry in front of his house after what he said. How could you talk to him again? Maybe... yes! A plan had begun to form. A plan so flawed, it would never work, but that was beside the point. 

When the teacher had handed back your score report, Renjun had been (luckily) absent. Of course the results were satisfactory, the school’s biggest perfectionists would never settle for less than the best. Anyways, you were currently standing in front of Renjun’s house, fighting for the courage to knock on the stupid door. Deep in thought, you didn’t happen to notice the twist of the door handle. Renjun almost hit you with the door, not knowing you were there. “Y/n!” His face held a decent amount of shock, he never thought you were coming back. “Ahem... What brings you here?” 

“I-I. Government. I have the sc-score paper. I thought you might wa-want to see it.” So much for acting cool and collected. 

“Oh. Thanks for bringing it over.” After successfully passing the paper, (thankfully your hand didn’t shake too much) an awkward silence ensued. Not knowing what to say, the pair of you stood there. Fifteen seconds passed. Then thirty. It was now or never. 

“I....um, I just wanted to apologize for last week. I honestly didn’t know how to feel about what you said, and I needed some time to collect my thoughts. I’m so sorry for rushing out like that, you must be so mad at me-”

“I’m not. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was wrong of me to hit you with that so suddenly.”

“No, no. It’s not your fault either. I’ve had a few days to think, and I believe I feel the same way. I also want to get to know you better. I think that we can become great friends. Or more, like you said. But if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine. I don’t want to pressure you into this or anything. I also don’t expect you to even want to be my friend, let alone something more, but if you do, I don’t think I’d be too against it, still, if you don’t want to we don’t-” 

“Y/n.”

“Yeah?” 

“If you don’t stop talking soon, I may kiss you.” 

This boy had no shame. A surge of confidence ran through your veins, which was never a good thing. “Well, then why don’t you?” You tried to sound cool and suave, but the tint to your cheeks probably ruined the affect. 

“You’re too cute.” Knowing his smile was all for you was better than you would have thought. As he moved closer, every nerve buzzed with anticipation. When he finally made contact, a warmth exploded in your chest. His lips were softer than you remembered, and the pressure was greater this time. All this mixed with his overwhelming scent was too much for you, and your knees almost buckled. He chuckled as his arms wrapped around your waist to protect you from the hard concrete. He finished the kiss with a soft peck on your lips, leaving you completely breathless and disoriented. 

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” 

“What? Stop hating each other, or kiss?”

“Both.”

It didn’t matter anymore who won or who lost. Heck, you didn’t even care about the campaign. What did matter was that you put aside your silly differences, and came together in the end.

[dorevenge]

where ignorance is bliss - chapter 15: and follow

SUMMARY: Tony is home for the holidays, and Howard has one last mission before he and Maria go on vacation. (last chapter!!) [AO3 LINK]

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 [15] ☆

December 16, 1991 – Manhattan, New York City, Stark Manor

“Wake up, dear, and say goodbye to your father,” I say to Tony, hearing Howard’s footsteps enter from behind me. Tony is passed out on the couch beside me, covered in a red blanket, snoring softly. I sit at the piano, singing to myself as I wait for Howard to get ready to leave.

“Who’s the homeless person on the couch?” Howard asks as he lifts the blanket off Tony’s head. Tony rouses himself, groaning, and adjusts the Santa hat he’s wearing.

“This is why I love coming home for Christmas,” Tony retorts, matching Howard’s tone. “Right before you leave town.” They still fight like cats and dogs, fire and ice, baking soda and vinegar. It breaks my hard, so I keep playing at the piano to avoid the conflict. We were so close to making it out the door without an emotional explosion.

“Be nice, dear, he’s been studying abroad,” I say, closing my eyes to focus on the keys before me.

Howard gears himself up for another response. “Really, which broad? What’s her name?” He snatches Tony’s hat from his head.

“Candice,” Tony says sheepishly.

“Do me a favor,” continues Howard, “Try not to burn the house down before Monday.”

“Okay, so it’s Monday. That’s good to know. I will plan my toga party accordingly. Where you going?” Tony asks me.

“Your father’s flying us to the Bahamas for a little getaway,” I reply.

“Weren’t you just in France?”

“That was only for a couple days for our anniversary. This will be a week.”

“We might have to make a quick stop,” Howard starts.

“At the Pentagon,” Tony interrupts, finishing for his father with a sly smile. “Right? Don’t worry, you’re gonna love the holiday with the commissary.”

“You know, they say sarcasm is a metric for potential. If that’s true, you’ll be a great man someday. I’ll get the bags,” Howard says on his way out of the room, not able to resist one more dig at Tony.

Once Howard is gone, I say “He does miss you when you’re not here. And, frankly, you’re going to miss us,” I rise from the piano and walk to Tony. “Because this is the last time we’re all going to be together. You know what’s about to happen. Say something.” I place a hand on his arm to pull him in to me, to try to make him listen. “If you don’t, you’ll regret it.”

Howard reenters the room, carrying both of our luggage. Tony looks from me to him. They pause. Howard’s cold brown eyes hold Tony’s eye contact for longer than he’s comfortable. Tony breaks first and looks at his feet.

“Would you two leave already?” he asks, pulling away from my grasp on his arm. “I told my friends the party starts at 6. It’s 5:50, I don’t want you to ruin the vibe before it has a chance to start.”

Despite Tony pulling away from me, I grab his shoulder to kiss him on the cheek. He’s already taller than me. He has to let me kiss him goodbye because I’m his mother, and he doesn’t fight it. “Goodbye, dear. Lock the door behind us, please.” I wave to Edwin as I step out onto the front porch. Howard follows right behind me.

Before the door closes behind us, Tony shouts, “I’ll send Candice your regards!” and shuts the door with a force. Edwin helps Howard load the luggage in the trunk, wishes us a “Happy Christmas” before returning inside. Howard gets in the driver’s seat and starts the car, turning up the heater.

Outside, snow is just beginning to fall. Howard rubs his hands together to warm them up as a thin layer of white covers the lawn and dusts the lampposts.

“Are we really stopping by the Pentagon?”

Howard sighs. “It’s on the way.”

“Is it the serum you showed me last month?”

“Yes. I have a full batch finished and ready to deploy, the test subjects ready and waiting. Everything is in place. Once we deliver it, as far as I’m concerned, Project Brooklyn is done. I’ll retire once this is in the hands of General Ross. Promise.”

“Is this the kind of promise that you’ll keep?” I ask him. I know Howard, faults and all, far too well.

He smiles at me. “Yes, dear.”

It gets dark very quickly, as it does in the winter, and we haven’t seen any other cars in several miles. We’ve only been driving for an hour, it’s not even 7pm, but we can’t see more than twenty feet ahead of us. It’s a quiet drive to Washington. Howard keeps fiddling with the heat dial, and I warm myself with thoughts of the Bahamas.

A motorcycle comes up behind up. I can hear its engine, and I turn to see it tailgating us. Howard steps on the gas and the car responds.

“Let him pass,” I say to Howard.

“I am! I’m already going ten over the speed limit. He can pass if he wants to, I’m not gonna speed even more in this weather,” Howard replies. The motorcyclist behind us continues to rev the engine. He then goes around us, passing in the left lane before taking off.

“Good riddance,” I say to myself, and rest my head on the window next to me.

A moment passes, and there’s the motorcycle, standing still, in the middle of the road.

“Howard,” I say, and he’s already slamming on the brakes, a horrible screeching filling the air. “Howard!” He swerves to avoid it, and we careen to the left.

We hit a tree on the side of the road. The front of the car crunches horribly. My head throbs. Smoke pours out of the engine and into the cab, fogging my vision. I hear the motorcycle turn back around towards us, its headlight cutting through the smoke. “Howard,” I say hoarsely, reaching for him. His face is smattered with blood. His nose is probably broken, but he’s awake. I can’t open my door from the inside.

“I’ll open it from the outside,” Howard says, squeezing my hand three times. He opens his door, undoes his seatbelt, and falls to the ground outside. I undo my belt, and I gingerly touch my forehead. My fingers come back red. My heart is pounding in my throat.

From my seat, I can see the man dismount the bike. I can’t make out his face from here, but he has long dark hair, dressed in all black. I’ve heard of those motorcycle gangs, causing trouble to people passing through. I don’t know what he wants from us. Suddenly, he picks Howard up, grabbing him by the hair. Howard struggles, then he says-

“Sergeant Barnes?”

“Howard!” I call out again. I start to cry. I don’t know why I’m crying, but I can’t help it. I’ve never been more scared.

The dark man strikes Howard in the face, then again, with a metallic arm, the silver glistening with Howard’s blood. I call out his name again, then cover my mouth so as not to scream. He drops Howard to the ground. He makes a dull thud.

He picks Howard up again. This time, Howard shows no resistance. The man places Howard’s body in the passenger, dead, his head on the wheel, his lifeless eyes pointed towards me. I start to hyperventilate. The front of the car is on fire. My head feels like it’s on fire. My neck hurts. My husband is dead, and I’m going to die.

The man stalks around the car. He pauses at the trunk, opening it by brute force. He throws our bags to the ground, rifling through its contents. I can barely make out the scene from the cracked rearview mirror, watching, holding my breath until he finds what he’s looking for. The metal container with Howard’s vials. He sets it next to his bike.

The man walks over to my side of the car and effortlessly rips the passenger side door off.

His hand is warm against my throat. It’s cold and snowing outside, almost freezing, but somehow his hand is warm. He chokes me. My fingertips claw at his hand. Everything hurts. I’m dying. My vision goes black. It’s over. It’s all over. Tony, I love you.

-

If you ever met Howard Stark, you only knew half of the man.

He was lauded as a genius, a gamechanger in every field, a philanthropist for tomorrow, the best of humankind – yet he managed to be the worst of it at the same time. He was obsessive, compulsive, arrogant, and I loved him. For he was kind, attentive, and loving. I only wish everyone got to see that side of him. I wish his son had gotten to see the good side of him.

I met him at a casino in ‘60, charmed and overpowered after losing millions for the thrill of it, and we married shortly after. It was the beginning of the last twenty years of my life, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I was never bored with Howard, lonely at times, yes, but I never felt unloved.

 … Where ignorance is bliss,

 Tis folly to be wise

 – Thomas Gray, 1742

Notes: Part of scene taken from Civil War, here (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZFyJjx8jo4) and here (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LbFbFqlg7w4). I finished the end of the conversation as they leave myself, because Tony didn’t really say “I love you” to Howard.

[ohnominamino]

Bath Bomb

Fulfilling a prompt from the @yyhfanfiction Tumblr account:

"Kurama learning how to make bath bombs from a bunch of diy videos on youtube so he can give a batch to his mom. Bonus: Kuwabara helps him and everything goes to shit."

Or,

Good friends with good intentions try to make good things for people they love. Read below or on AO3.

Kurama thought he knew the perfect gift for Mother’s Day. They’d just gotten the master bathroom in the house redone and Shiori was excited to have a tub big enough to stretch her legs out in; although, she had seemed almost guilty replacing their previous cube of a bath with the new one. “I used to wash you in there when you were a baby,” she’d said, “You were so cute. You loved bath time, you and your little rubber duckies.”

Of course, he had to pass himself off as a normal human child. That required playing with bath toys. While annoying at the time, he also remembered it somewhat fondly, but not enough to mourn the loss of the old tub.

New tub, new bath salts. Perfect plan.

Until his mother saw something on the internet (he and his brother would forever regret gifting her an iPad to get lost online with) and decided most of the major bath soap companies were producing poisonous products she didn’t want to soak in.

While he knew she wasn’t at risk of her cancer relapsing, he couldn’t exactly tell her about the dark magic mirror that had cured her indefinitely. He could only nod his head sympathetically at her worries and go back to the drawing board for a gift.

Using the aforementioned iPad, he stumbled upon a few bath bomb DIYs on his mother’s Pinterest account. All-natural, homemade, and safe. He looked at the ingredients and directions. Doable for sure. Shiori would be out watching a movie with Kazuya that evening, so he headed out to the store to get what he needed before then.

Three shops later, he was still having trouble collecting a couple of items. Mulling over them a bit, he thought which of his friends he might borrow them from, Yukina popping into his mind. She seemed the type who would have those kinds of things. He pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocking it to call Kuwabara-- Yukina was not interested in having a phone of her own.

Kuwabara picked up on the second ring, “Kurama! Whats up?”

“Hello Kuwabara,” he greeted back, “Would you mind putting Yukina on the phone?”

“Sure, one sec.”

He could hear Kuwabara loudly thumping down the stairs of his house even through the receiver, but soon Yukina’s sweet voice was on the other end, “Kurama?”

“Hello Yukina, I’m sorry to bother you, but I wondered if you had any essential oils I could borrow?”

“Oh, yes, I have many!” She responded, “What do you need them for?”

“I’m going to make my mother a bath bomb.”

“A bath bomb?” She sounded alarmed, “Has some demon possessed her?”

“No, no,” he quickly explained, “Not a real bomb. They just call it a bomb because when you put it in water, it fizzes a bit, but nothing actually explodes. There’s only bubbles and flower petals.”

“Oh,” she sighed in relief, “That sounds nice.”

“I hope it will be. I’ve never tried making one before.” He checked his watch, noticing it wouldn’t be long until his mother left the house. “Can I swing by now and pick a couple up?”

“Of course. We’ll see you soon.”

“Thank you!” He disconnected the call, barely having time to think which bus to take across town before his phone rang. He looked down at the screen, surprised to see Kuwabara’s name. He picked up, “Kuwabara?”

“Hey, I’ll bring the oils to you!”

“Oh, you don’t have to--”

“I want to make a bomb too!”

“Bath bomb.”

“Yeah, that. Yukina said it sounded nice and that she wants to try one, so I thought if you’re making them anyway, maybe I could help and bring one home for her.”

There was no reason to say no, plus the essential oils were Yukina’s. “All right. Can you come over in 30 minutes or so? I didn’t think to ask her, but if Yukina has any silicone baking trays you can bring those too.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but ok. See you in 30!”

“See you.”

~ 45 minutes later ~

Pinterest had been too vague with directions, leading Kurama and Kuwabara into what seemed an endless loop of YouTube videos featuring ingredient combinations far more complicated than the fox had anticipated.  

“We should add glitter.” Kuwabara said, watching one bath bomb explode into a sparkling pink pool. “I think Yukina would like glitter.”

“We’re not adding glitter. It’s not good for your body or the environment.” Ok, maybe he’d also spent a little too much time reading things on the internet.

“Party pooper.”

“We’re using dried flower petals.”

“I guess Yukina will like those too…”

Kurama began mixing the dried ingredients in a bowl, Kuwabara in charge of playing the video once he was ready for the next step. Just as Kurama was about to tell him to continue, he heard meowing from the tablet. He looked over, finding Kuwabara had clicked onto a video of kittens in a bathtub.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Watching these sweet little angels take their first bath.” Kuwabara cooed.

“Go back to the bath bomb video.”

“Gimme two more minutes.”

“Kuwabara, we have a limited time frame to finish these.”

“One minute.”

Kurama washed his hands and dried them quickly, taking the ipad out of Kuwabara’s hands, “Go get the essential oils from your bag.”

Kuwabara sighed heavily as his friend clicked out of the cat video, but went to do as he was told. A moment later he dumped out several little colorful bottles onto the counter.

“Does Yukina have a favorite one?” Kurama asked, thinking it would be good to include that one in her bath bomb.

“Uhhh,” Kuwabara squinted down at the bottles, picking them up and reading the labels, “Maybe lavender?”

It did seem the lavender was well used. Kurama looked over the labels himself, opening a few to test their smell. He decided the rose-geranium essential oil would go nicely with the lavender and placed them beside the bowl.

“Now I’m in charge of the video. You make the bath bomb.” Kurama hit play.

Kuwabara, to his credit, did try to follow directions. It wasn’t his fault the cap on the rose-geranium oil was loose. It was 100% an accident that almost the entirety of the bottle’s contents ended up in the mixing bowl.

So much for a light fragrance.  

Kurama gave Kuwabara back the ipad to watch cats as he started on a second batch.

Take two went better than take one. Getting the mixture the right consistency was a challenge though. It was a fine line between too dry and too wet. Luckily Kuwabara was a “master at sand castle building” and figured out the right balance.

“Did you have any silicone molds, by the way?” Kurama asked once they were ready to shape the mixture.

“Oh yeah, we did.” Kuwabara fished into his backpack again, pulling out a pink silicone muffin tray. It wasn’t what Kurama had imagined, but with a shrug he assumed it would do. They did their best layering the flower petals and the mixture, patting everything down nicely before flipping the tray and checking how they came out.

They weren’t bad.

They certainly weren’t as lovely as the ones on the internet.

But they weren’t bad.

Little flat muffin shaped bath bombs, powdery white with dried rose petals poking out their sides.

The YouTube video continued on the counter, “Depending on size, bath bombs can take anywhere from twelve to twenty-four hours to dry.”

Both young men looked at the DIY lady, eyes wide. “How many hours?” Kuwabara asked.  

Kurama started looking for a cookie tray to move the bath bombs. He didn’t want to leave them in the kitchen and ruin the surprise. “When they dry, I’ll drop half of them off at your house.”

“I wanted to bring one home today.” Kuwabara whined.

“You can try, but it probably won’t go well. I’m sure it says that amount of time for a reason.”

Kuwabara stared at the bath bombs as Kurama delicately moved them from the counter to the cookie tray he’d found, clearly debating with himself what to do. Thankfully, YouTube autoplay started back on the kitten video and distracted him from making hasty decisions.  

Kurama brought the bath bombs up to his room, hid them behind a couple of stacked books, and returned to the kitchen. Kuwabara was happily humming along to the music overlaid in the next cat video.

The fox cleaned up their mess, leaving no sign of their experiment, and packed Yukina’s essential oils (caps on tight) with the silicone tray back into his friend’s bag. He was glad they’d managed to finish their project before his mother returned home, but they’d worked straight through dinner time.

“Want to go get food?” He asked, thinking they could swing by Yusuke’s ramen stand.

Kuwabara didn’t take his eyes away from the screen. “Gimme two more minutes.”