#i think maybe i should try baked oatmeal

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane’s Pets Chapter 76: Victory Lap

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When you wake up in the morning, you realize you didn’t have any nightmares at all. None that you can remember, at least. For a while, you thought that would never happen again, but here you are. You know that this is a temporary good period, and that the nightmares will eventually get bad again. But from where you are now, you can see that the temporary good periods are getting longer, and the bad periods are getting shorter. If things continue this way, and you think they will, you’ll eventually only have nightmares every once in a while, and you’ll be able to easily deal with them when they happen.

You can’t even remember the last time you woke up feeling this good. Not just safe- you felt safe for a while at Jane’s house, even though it was a lie. But you never woke up in Jane’s house feeling excited for the day. You don’t think you’ve woken up looking forward to the day ahead of you since you were a kid, actually. That’s… sad.

But now you are waking up excited. Now as you slowly go through the process of waking up your brain, you think of all the things you want to do today. You’re going to study magic and practice Dollie and Kit’s names and go on a walk and Diya said ey’d teach you how to bake bread, and maybe you’ll work on your knitting project or finishing up that book about trauma and nightmares if your head is feeling okay. If not, you’ll just play some simple card and board games with Diya and Ray and maybe Barron.

First, you do your morning work-out with Diya. You’re doing more push

-ups and sit-ups than you started with, but you’ve found that doing too many makes some old scars hurt. You looked up if scar tissue should be stretched and you didn’t fully understand the answers, so you just make sure to stop if you’re in pain.

You think that the scars limiting your movements would be a lot more upsetting if you hadn’t already been forced to accept that your body won’t ever work the same way it did before Jane took you. You get headaches from anything that requires prolonged focus and things that used to be easy are hard, now. Things will never be like they were before. But you can still be happy.

You really enjoy your morning runs. They don’t aggravate old scars or give you headaches, so long as you drink enough water. You tend to run for a lot longer than Diya every day. It feels really good, and if you could go beyond the reach of the magical protection, you think you’d be interested in trying to run marathons.

You definitely couldn’t run a marathon right now, but every day you’re getting stronger. It feels really, really good to feel strong.

After your run, you take a shower and join the others for breakfast. Ray made oatmeal for everyone, but says you can fix yourself something else if you don’t like it. You’ve never been a big fan of oatmeal, but you eat your serving enthusiastically. You can’t tell how invested they are in people liking what they made, so you’ve decided it’s better to be safe than sorry.

“Hey Liam, did you ever end up having lucid dreams?” Diya asks.

“Oh shit, I haven’t even been doing the things to make lucid dreaming happen! My nightmares have been decreasing, though.”

“Good!”

“What about you?”

“Hmm… I think I had a lucid dream last night, but I couldn’t always control it. It was more like being lucid was part of the plot of the dream, rather than me actually having a lucid dream.”

You nod. “That makes sense. Did it help with the nightmares at all?”

“Not really, but that’s okay. It was worth a shot.”

Once you’re done with breakfast, you help clean up and then dive back into some of the magic books Barron gave you, remembering to take some ibuprofen before you start.

Over the past few weeks, you’ve finished the first two books, the ones about magic in general and magic history, and now you’re working on the one about magical objects.

Magic is… weird. Repeatedly, you’ve gone to Barron to ask why the books contain so many contradictions, and its answers have ranged from “oh, that’s not actually a contradiction, the book is just using that word to mean something different than it does to non-mages” to “Yeah, it wouldn’t be magic if it made sense.”

“It’s all guesses and models.” It said. “Ways of thinking about magic that allow for the best results. Magic isn’t like science. It actively resists being studied and practiced. Don’t treat anything anyone tells you about magic as absolute truth. It’s all guesses.”

“So… when you said Jane doesn’t confirm to the ‘rules of magic’…”

“She doesn’t conform to the way most mages understand magic. Honestly, it kind of does feel like hearing about something that doesn’t conform to the rules of gravity or something, even when I know magic isn’t like science. We’ve used these models for so long, so for someone or something to just not fit? That’s kind of scary. But it doesn’t necessarily mean she’s more powerful than things that follow the rules. It just means we’ve found a way that our current way of thinking about magic can lead to blindspots.”

You think back to that conversation often, reminding yourself that the things written in these books are not literally true in the same way things written in a textbook might be. This actually makes reading them easier. If something doesn’t make sense, you just figure that it’s not a way of thinking about magic that clicks with you, and you’ll find a completely different explanation of the same vague concept within a few chapters.

Even with the ibuprofen, you can only focus on one thing for so long. In fact, when you’ve tried to push past the pain and difficulty concentrating, you’ve found that you get dizzy and your ears ring. Best not to push it.

You can still come back to the book later. It’s… fine. It’s fine. You’ve been dealing with the brain damage very well lately, you think. There was other stuff you wanted to do today anyway, so there’s no reason to get upset about needing to stop reading. Even if it’s only been 30 minutes, and you were able to read for nearly an hour without feeling bad at all yesterday.

It’s fine.

You find Diya and Ray outside, cloud gazing.

“Hi, Liam! How’s studying magic going?”

“Fine. It’s kind of hard to read today.” You were going to ask Diya if ey thought making bread required a lot of focus, so you could decide if you wanted to jump into that or take a break first. But… Diya and Ray seem to be having fun, and you don’t want to end it early. “Is it okay if I join you?”

“Of course!”

“Are you sure? If you just want to hang out as a couple that’s fine too.”

“No, we want to spend time with you! Well, I do, and I assume Ray does.”

Ray nods. “I do.”

You lie down in the dirt next to Diya. Ey points at a cloud. “Doesn’t that one look like a dragon?”

“Hmm… Actually, I think that cloud looks like… stuffing coming out of a pillow with a hole in it.”

You can tell Diya is rolling eir eyes without looking at em.

Ray puffs. “No, it looks like white cotton candy.”

“No, no, that’s not right at all. It looks like a bunch of soap suds.”

“You guys are terrible at this!” Diya exclaims.

“Okay, okay, it looks like soap suds in the shape of a dragon.” You say.

“Good enough! What about that one?”

The three of you share thoughts about clouds for a long time. It’s really nice. Warm and safe and peaceful.

Eventually, bugs start to bother you, so you go back inside and work on Kit and Dollie’s names. Diya and Ray follow soon after and start playing a care game in the kitchen.

It’s going faster than remembering your own name went. You can already think the names and you think you’ll be able to say them by the end of the day. And then you’ll be on track to hear other people say them!

“Kit” you whisper to yourself. “Dollie.”

You’re thrilled to have so much control back, but also terrified. You put the notebook away for now, and, in an effort to distract yourself, you go to get Diya.

“Hey, you said yesterday you wanted to teach me to make bread? Do you still want to do that?”

“Yeah! Me and Ray are almost done with this game. Oh, is it okay if Ray joins us.”

“That’s fine. Um, while you’re finishing up, I could start getting stuff ready? What stuff should I get out?”

“Oh, theres no need for that. We’re almost done.”

“Diya…” You don’t know what to say. You need to distract yourself so that the fear goes away without you ever being hurt, and your brain learns things are different now. Diya’s the one who taught you that, and it’s always worked before.

Diya finally looks up from eir cards at you. Eir face falls. “Are you okay?”

“I just… want to do something. Right now.”

Ray sets down their cards. “We don’t have to finish.”

“Right, right.” Diya gets up. “Can you put away the cards while me and Liam get set up?”

Ray nods, and Diya leads you to a drawer and takes out a big, clear bowl. “Fill this with flour. It’s in the pantry.”

Diya goes to another drawer and starts getting other stuff out. You drag a large container of flour from the pantry.

“Were you just wanting me to pour the flour in there? That seems messy.”

“Things do get pretty messy when you bake bread, but I figured you’d use a measuring cup to fill it up. They’re in the drawer to your right.”

You pick out a large measuring cup and start scooping. “And you just want me to fill the whole bowl?”

“Yep!”

If you focus on not spilling any flour, the job takes quite a bit of concentration. You’re able to think less about how Jane would hurt you and just focus. By the time the bowl is full, your hands have stopped shaking.

Over the next several hours, the three of you make some bread. It involves a lot more waiting than you were hoping for, but that does help prevent headaches, so you’re not complaining. You take a break during one of the waiting periods to make lunch, but mostly you just… hang out, keeping an eye on the bread and chatting.

“We should make a bird house.” Diya says, looking out the window at some birds.

“That would require a lot of tools.” Ray says.

“Yeah, that’s the fun part! We should try to make the cabin, but tiny and for birds!”

“What kinds of birds are around here?” You ask.

“I dunno. Normal birds? You could use the computer to look it up, if you want.”

“Maybe later. It would be really nice to have a bird house. I like birds.

Diya nods and gently pokes the bread-in-progress. “That’ll be our next little project, then. I’ll have Barron get us the supplies.”

You never would’ve dreamed you’d be living a life like this. Living with close friends and learning magic and having the ability to just… make things, if you want to.

You really wish Kit and Dollie were here. They will be, soon, you’re sure of it.

—

Once the bread is finally done baking, the three of you to for a walk while you wait for it to cool.

“Geez, Barron’s missing out on all this bonding time. If only it didn’t have a job…” Diya sighs dramatically. “Actually, maybe I should get a job. I don’t think there are any vampires actually hunting me, I don’t need to be at the cabin all the time like you guys. And if your friends are going to be joining us we’ll probably need more money. I think. I honestly have no idea how much its mage job pays.”

Briefly, you feel guilty that you’re so dependent on Barron working, and that Kit and Dollie joining you will make things harder. But… they’ve said repeatedly that they want you here, and Ray’s in the same position you are, and you don’t think their a burden. Diya could’ve gotten a job at any time and you don’t think ey’s a burden. You let the guilt slide off you. It’s not like you don’t help out, anyway, you have chores like everyone else.

You walk in silence for a while. You’ve been wanting to ask Diya something for a while, but you don’t know how to bring it up.

“Can I ask you a question, Diya? You don’t have to answer, but I’ve been reading about magical stuff and I’ve been wondering… what it was like for you to be the captive of a vampire?” It’s not a purely magical question. You want to know… how similar Diya’s experiences are to yours. But you can’t just ask 'what was your abuse like.’ That would be weird.

Diya laughs. “Why are you asking me about that and not Ray about being the captive of a faery?”

“Me and Ray have talked about that before.” You know Ray eventually just left. That they could’ve left at any time, but they chose to stay to protect their sister. It doesn’t make what happened to them any less bad, but it does make it different. “You definitely don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, it’s not important that I know or anything, and I can find other ways to learn about vampires.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not super hard to talk about, I just assume that people will ask if they want to know. Which is funny because I also assume other people will tell me things if they want me to know, so I shouldn’t ask… Anyway, I don’t know a lot about vampires. I only saw him for a few minutes every day, and it’s not like we were chatting during those times. I know vampires drink blood and that’s about it. I didn’t even see Jane kill him, I just ran.“

“Oh. That’s okay. Um… if you ever want to talk about it, either of you, I’m- I’m here to listen.”

Ray nods. “Us too. You can talk to us too if you ever want to.”

“Yeah! But I think you already knew that. I hope so, at least.”

“Yeah, I know.”

The three of you make it back to the cabin. You each have a slice of homemade bread with jam. It’s delicious.

When Barron gets home, you all have dinner, before playing Clue and heading to bed. You lost, and you didn’t even cry this time!

It’s still frustrating to be bad at things you were once good at. But you’re getting good at things you were once bad at, too.

You want to work on your knitting or read a bit more before bed, but you’ve done a lot today and you’re really tired. There’s always tomorrow.

—

You reread the page a few times to be sure you understood correctly, but there’s really not a lot of ways to interpret it. It’s a good thing Barron’s home.

You knock on its bedroom door, book still in hand.

“Come in.”

You throw the door open. “Barron! There were spells that reduced pain this entire time and you didn’t tell me? I was in so much pain you wanted to take me to the hospital once!” You hold the book open so that Barron can see the page you’re talking about.

Barron pulls several expressions you don’t understand before settling on something apologetic. “It didn’t even occur to me. All the pain reducing spells we know of have really bad side effects. When I first learned about them, I thought ‘it’d be a better use of magic to just invisibly steal some painkillers,’ and then I never really thought about those spells again. The thought that you would want me to use one of them never even crossed my mind. I should’ve given you the option, at least. I know that even if you decided the side effects were too much to bear, it would’ve been easier if you felt like it was your choice. I’m sorry.”

Geez, Barron is good at apologies. You can already feel yourself calming down. You flip to the next page. Sure enough, there are several warnings highlighted in red for each pain-killing spell.

“I… guess I should’ve finished reading that section before I came to confront you.”

“I can see why that was upsetting. I should’ve told you earlier. I wasn’t intentionally hiding that information, though, I just never connected those spells to your headaches in my head. Do you want to try them?”

You glance over the warnings again. Why the fuck would a spell about relieving pain cause your fingernails to fall off, or blind you for a full week? None of the other spells so far have had warnings like this.

“Ugh, definitely not. I guess we’ll see how bad these side-effects sound the next time I have a bad episode, though. They might seem worth it if I was in enough pain.”

Barron nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

—

“The worst part wasn’t being fed from.” Diya tells you during your morning run. You take a second to catch on, then slow down so you can talk more easily. Diya follows suit.

"Oh? What was the worst part? If you want to share.”

“I was completely alone in that little cell. Once a month he’d drop off a bunch of food, and other than that I only saw him when he was drinking my blood. There were two books, and a cot, and nothing else.”

“Shit.” It’s not like what happened to you, but that’s okay. Well, not okay. Horrible. “For how long?”

“Around a year.”

That’s similar. “…It’s funny, I don’t know what to say. Like I should be able to just think of what I want to hear when I tell people about what happened to me, but…”

“There’s nothing you can say.” Ey finishes. “A lot of wrong things to say, and some inoffensive ones, but never really a good one.”

You nod.

“It wasn’t so bad. After a while I was anemic enough that I was unconscious most of the time, so I didn’t just have to sit there and be lonely and bored.”

“Ray mentioned that you were anemic when you first came here.”

“Yeah. No, being anemic wasn’t so bad. Cold and exhausting, but bearable. The worst part, the worst worst part, was the first week.”

“That makes sense. You probably didn’t really know what was going on then, so it was extra scary.”

“Well, that, but actually it was mostly that I was going through withdrawals for like… several drugs.”

“Oh. I should’ve let you finish.”

“It’s fine. But yeah, that was the worst part. Being completely alone while I puked and shook and saw things, fucking, drooling all over me gnawing on my body parts… I still can’t be positive that was a hallucination. Maybe Irving had some fucked up friends. But I think I was hallucinating. I could’ve died. For a long time, I wished I had. But not anymore. I’m… glad I made it through all that. It sucked, it was meaningless and unnecessary pain that should never have happened, don’t get me wrong, but I’m happy with where I ended up, and I don’t think I would’ve ended up here without that happening.”

That’s very similar. “I get that. I hate that everything happened this way, but I’m so glad I got to meet you, and Ray, and Barron, and Dollie and Kit-“

Fear flashes through you. You run a bit harder.

“Yeah! I’m definitely not an ‘everything happens for a reason’ type of person, but I also know that everything that’s happened to me has impacted who I am, and I like who I am, y’know? It didn’t have to happen. I could’ve ended up this happy in a million other ways. But, this is how I ended up here, and… I’m okay with that. Hey, slow down.”

“Sorry.” You take some deep breaths. “You’re really good at putting this stuff into words.”

"You’re really good at listening. I’m glad I decided to talk to you about this stuff.”

You slow down a bit more. “Can I tell you something kind of weird?”

“Always.”

“I… was kind of hoping we’d have more in common? Like, that you were afraid of Irving the same way I’m afraid of Jane. Sorry. It’s dumb, I shouldn’t have said anything. Just a weird thought I should’ve kept to myself.”

Diya is quiet for a while. “I think… you do have a lot in common with what happened to you and what happened to your friends who are still captive. So maybe… maybe you were hoping to have the same sort of bond with me?”

You stop running. Diya stops quickly after and turns around to face you.

“I- I think that’s it. Wow. I guess it’s good that I told you. Holy crap. How did you figure it out so quick?” You feel like a weight has been lifted.

Diya shrugs. “Guess I’m just super smart.”

You laugh. “I guess so.”

Now that you realize what was wrong, it’s easy to deal with. You’re never going to have a relationship with other people that’s exactly what like you have with Kit and Dollie. But that’s okay. Your other relationships are really good too.

—

Barron didn’t come to breakfast this morning. You, Ray, and Diya found it fast asleep in its bed, with its alarm still going. Its face is covered in sweat and it’s shaking beneath the blankets. You turn off the alarm clock.

Ray shakes Barron, mumbling “not again, not again, not again-“ to themself and smiling.

Barron jolts awake. “Huh?”

Ray gasps and hugs it tightly.

“Ray, honey?" Diya gently pulls Ray off of Barron and places a hand against its forehead. “Barron will be fine. It looks like just a slight fever, okay?”

You disagree that it’s a ‘slight’ fever, but the statement seems to calm Ray down.

You leave the room and head to the bathroom. You run a washcloth under cool water and ring it out, then bring it to Barron and drape the washcloth over its forehead. It seems to be asleep again.

“Thank you, Liam.” Diya says. “Ibuprofen helps with fevers, right?”

“Oh, I think so? They help with aches, at least.”

You go to leave and get some ibuprofen, but Ray beats you to it, sprinting out of the room.

“Uh… have none of you been sick since you met Ray?”

“We have. Ray… always struggles with it. We do our best.”

Ray hurries back into the room, though not sprinting this time due to the cup of water in their hand. Once they reach Barron, their movements become less urgent, and they gently prop it up with pillows before shaking it awake again.

“Medicine, here’s medicine. It’ll work this time. It’ll work, the medicine is better now.”

Ray sounds… younger. They help Barron take the pills.

Barron groans. “Where… who?”

Ray steps away abruptly. “I’ll get you some food. You’ll feel better after eating.” They sprint out of the room again. You’ve never seen Ray move so fast.

Barron is still shaking and sweating. It softly groans in its sleep.

“That’s not a ‘slight’ fever.” You whisper.

“No, it’s not. I’m going to go get our thermometer, can you keep an eye on Barron?”

You nod and Diya leaves. Ray enters the room soon after, with a tray carrying toast, yogurt, orange juice, and a water bottle.

They don’t acknowledge you and go straight to Barron, shaking it more gently this time.

“Barron. Do you want some food? I got you some food.”

Barron blinks slowly. “Wha- what’s happening? Where am I?”

“You’re in your bed. Do you want some yogurt?”

“Mmm… sure? What’s…”

Barron closes its eyes and sighs. Ray feeds it a spoonful of yogurt.

You feel… you don’t know. You don’t like that Barron is sick and Ray is upset. You keep thinking about Dollie coughing up blood and-

Well, best not to think about that right now. If you start freaking out Diya will have to take care of all three of you, and that wouldn’t be fair to em.

Diya comes back and takes Barron’s temperature.

“It’ll be alright.” Ey says. “The fever isn’t high enough that I’ll need to take it to the hospital. Barron, how long have you been sick?”

“Hmm? How long…” Barron trails off again.

“That’s more concerning.” Diya mumbles.

Ray nudges Diya out of the way and continues feeding Barron yogurt.

“…I’ve been reading about healing spells. I haven’t had a chance to pra- try any of them yet, but maybe I could help Barron?”

There is a risk to using magic here. If Barron has something that its body can fight off on its own, magic will speed up the process. But if there’s something seriously wrong, which you’re worried about with how suddenly this came on and how intense the symptoms are… magic might just make it worse. If it’s not something that can be fought off with its immune system alone, speeding up the healing will just exhaust its body’s resources.

You can’t say that with Ray in the room, though. They’re already very worried and having trouble separating the current situation from what happened to their sister. You pull Diya aside.

“There’s a chance that healing magic will make it worse. It just speeds up what the body is already doing, so if the body isn’t being helpful… that’s bad. I think if I use one of the less powerful spells we can see if it makes whatever Barron has worse or better without a ton of danger, but I don’t think I should make that decision alone. The less powerful spells are easier to prepare as well. What do you think?”

Diya glances over at Ray. “I think… that’s a good idea. Even if it makes things worse, that’ll help, because then we’ll know it can’t fight this on its own and needs more medical care than we can provide.”

You nod. You hadn’t even thought about that. “Okay, I was thinking of using a spell that gives food healing properties? There are a few, but I’d use a simpler one. That way we have even more control over how and when the magic is used. So we can do just a little at a time.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea. If we made it some soup, could you cast the spell on that?”

You nod.

“Awesome! We’ll wait a little bit, since Barron’s eating breakfast right now. And if we keep an eye on it for a while before we use the spell it’ll be easier to tell if the spell makes things better or worse.”

“Good plan.”

The two of you head back towards the bed. Ray has finished feeding Barron the yogurt and is working on the toast.

“This is the last of the bread we made.” They tell him. They look up at you and Diya, smiling. “You don’t have to hide things from me. I won’t be annoying. I’ll understand. You can tell me what’s going on.”

You look to Diya, not knowing how to handle this. Diya takes Ray’s hand. They continue feeding Barron with the other. “We just didn’t want to worry you. We’re not worried about you being annoying, or not understanding. You could never annoy me, and I think you’re super smart. I just… don’t want you to ever have to suffer. And you’re already so worried, so I didn’t want to make it worse. But you’re right, that’s not fair, and we shouldn’t hide stuff from you just to stop you from worrying. I’m-“ ey cuts themself off.

Ray’s smile wavers. “What were you guys talking about?”

“We were talking about Liam’s suggestion to use a healing spell. There are some risks, but ultimately we decided that it would be worth it. We’re going to make some soup and have Liam cast a healing spell on it, so that eating it would heal Barron, and we can administer it slowly and stop if it has a negative reaction. What do you think?”

Ray gives a pained smile. “What if that kills he- it. What if that kills it?"

Diya squeezes Ray’s hand. “I think that’s very unlikely. Healing magic speeds things up. It could have negative effects, but with the way we’re doing it it’s near impossible for one of those effects to be death. Plus, if it’s something Barron can’t fight off on its own, we want to know that as soon as possible.”

Ray looks at Barron, who has fallen back asleep. They nod slowly, still smiling. “Okay. We should do a healing spell.”

They get up and take the now-empty tray back to the kitchen and come back with another water bottle, which they set on Barron’s nightstand. Then they just… stand there and stare at it. Watching it breathe.

Diya pulls the chair from Barron’s desk over to Ray. “If you’re going to just stay and watch, at least sit.”

Ray sits.

Diya watches Ray watch Barron, concerned. “I guess I should try and figure out how to call Barron in sick to work, since it doesn’t look like it’ll be able to do that itself…” Ey looks at you. You don’t know what ey wants.

“Good idea. Um… when I was living back with Jane, we used to read to each other if we ended up stuck in bed, would- would that help?”

Ray doesn’t look away from Barron. “It might.”

Diya looks reassured, and ey leaves the room to go figure stuff out. You pick up a random book sitting on Barron’s desk, sit on the end of its bed, and start reading aloud.

—

You read for a long time. Barron has stopped shaking, which seemed to calm Ray down a little bit. They’ve replaced the washcloth on its forehead a couple of times.

Your head is starting to hurt, but… you don’t know how you’ll be able to help if you stop reading. So you keep reading.

Diya hasn’t come back. Maybe ey’s having trouble contacting people outside the cabin, or maybe ey just didn’t feel the need to come back and watch Barron sleep once ey was done.

You keep losing track of what the book you’re reading is talking about. Your reading aloud has gotten more and more choppy as time goes on. You know it has something to do with magic and culture and politics.

Ray hardly blinks as they watch Barron. Your heart aches for them. You don’t know how to convince them it’ll be okay.

Funny, how you don’t feel for Barron in the same visceral way. It’s much easier to out yourself in Ray’s shoes than to but yourself in Barron’s. Not entirely surprising, but funny.

You set the book down and try to ignore your headache. “Ray?”

Ray doesn’t look up. “What is it?”

“I… I didn’t mean to be condescending, earlier, when I talked to Diya and not you.”

“I know.”

“I… also had, um, someone I, uh, cared about- cared about a lot, get really sick. And… die.”

Ray does look up at that. “Why are you saying this now?”

“I just… I understand, at least a little, how you’re feeling. I didn’t want to make it worse. I know I don’t fully understand, because you clearly felt a responsibility towards keeping your sister healthy that I never felt towards… the person I really cared about. I was never expected to take care of him or watch over him, and his symptoms were very different. But I understand a little.”

“…You never talk about it.”

“Yeah. It would probably be healthier if I did. But mostly I just don’t think about it. It was a long time ago. Over a decade. I guess it was a long time ago for you too…”

"No. My sister didn’t die until after I left the fae realm. She died a few days after we met Barron, two years ago.”

“Oh geez. That’s hard. Two years after I lost my- my dad,” there’s no reason to keep it secret “I was barely functional. I guess I just assumed that it was a while ago for you too, since you’re handling stuff so well.”

Ray puffs. “So well. That’s why I’ve been watching Barron sleep for the past hour.”

Their tone doesn’t sound like they’re being sarcastic, but you’re pretty sure they are.

“I kind of want to give you a hug, but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t like that.”

“What makes you think that?”

You have to think for a moment. “You just never really seek out stuff like that. Even with Diya, and ey said you’re, like, dating. I guess you hugged Barron earlier, but that was because you were really upset.”

“Public displays of affection are impolite. Diya says there’s nothing public about hugging your partner in a cabin in the middle of the woods. I still prefer to only do that stuff when we’re alone, most of the time. Someday I won’t be so scared of being impolite… But I don’t dislike it. I really like hugs, actually. It’s just… I feel rude touching people without permission, and I feel rude asking for permission… You can hug me if you want.”

You scoot towards Ray and envelope them in a very awkward hug. The movement makes your head hurt worse and you feel dizzy, but it’s worth it.

They freeze at first, and you wonder if you misinterpreted something, but then they rest their head on your shoulder and return the hug, very gently. Even though their arms are technically around your torso, they’re barely touching you.

They invited you to hug them, so you don’t think they’re uncomfortable. That’s just… the way they hug. As if they’re trying to hug a cloud.

When you pull away, Ray isn’t smiling anymore. You feel a flush of pride. They’ve been terrified all day, and hugging you is what finally calmed them down.

“Awww!”

You look towards the voice. Diya’s standing in the doorway to Barron’s bedroom.

“How long have you been standing there?” Ray asks.

“I was just going to get Liam to come cast a spell on the soup I’m making, but you were hugging and I didn’t want to interrupt! You two are adorable.”

You laugh and get up off the bed. You immediately fall over. Ow.

“Liam!”

You’d almost forgotten how dizzy you’d been getting. You really need to stop ignoring headaches… At least your ears aren’t ringing yet. “It’s fine, I just… read for too long. Can you help me up?”

You almost fall over again as Diya helps you up, but ey catches you.

“How about you stay here and I bring the soup to you?”

You nod. The world spins and you feel like you’ve been stabbed in the head. “Could you bring me ibuprofen too?”

“Yeah. Do you need, like, rocks and shit for the spell?”

“Barron has a bunch of that stuff in its dresser. I’m sure it won’t mind.”

Diya sets you back down on the bed and goes through Barron’s dresser until ey finds the drawer of magic stuff. “What do you need?”

You describe the type of leaf you want and the rune that should be drawn on it. “If there aren’t any leaves like that with that rune that’s fine, it shouldn’t be too hard to draw something on a leaf.”

Luckily, Diya finds the exact type of leaf you wanted. Ey hands it to you and leaves (ha) to go get some soup.

This spell doesn’t even require you to say anything. You just have to do the right movements. You go over them in your head while you wait.

Diya quickly returns with four bowls of soup on a tray and some ibuprofen, and sets the tray on the bed. “I figured we should all eat. So, is there else anything you need for the spell, or…”

“I can just do it. Does it matter which bowl?”

“Nope, they’re all the same."

You quickly take the ibuprofen. It won’t help that much after you’ve let it get this bad, but it’s worth a shot.

You pick up the bowl nearest to you and set the leaf under it, then set the bowl back down. You remind yourself which hand is your right and which is your left, and then do the motions for this particular spell.

…

Nothing happens.

“I, uh. Don’t know if that worked. When I made water start boiling it was pretty easy to tell, but this spell doesn’t really have a visual component… Barron’s magic always makes a popping noise. I don’t know what mine does when it works.”

“I think… for a second your eyes turned yellow? Maybe I just imagined it.”

“I think I saw that too.” Ray says.

You shrug. “Well, I guess that’ll have to be confirmation enough. Let’s wake up Barron.”

Ray shakes Barron awake as gently as its possible to shake someone awake.

“How are you feeling?” They ask.

“I wish you’d stop waking me up.” It grumbles. You feel kind of bad about annoying it, but hey, that’s the first full sentence they’ve said all day.

“Diya made some soup. Liam cast a healing spell on it. Can you eat some?”

It sighs. “Yeah, sure.”

“Don’t eat too quickly. And drink plenty of water.”

Barron grumbles something under its breath that you can’t hear.

“You can go straight back to sleep after.”

Barron starts on the soup, taking a drink of water every couple of bites. The rest of you also eat. It’s chicken noodle soup, which you really like. Normally you chat more during meals, but right now Barron doesn’t seem to want to talk.

Barron eats about half the bowl of soup before setting it down and closing its eyes. Ray glances at you and Diya, then leans in close and whispers something to Barron.

It rolls its eyes. “Yeah, that’s fair.” It starts slowly getting out of bed. “I’m going to go to the bathroom before I pass out again.”

—

Barron also ends up taking a long bath before going back to bed, and reports that it feels much better. You can’t be positive it was the spell, since its condition was improving before that, but you decide to take credit for it anyway.

Ray feels comfortable enough to not constantly watch it breathe, but doesn’t want to leave it alone, so the three of you quietly play card games on the bedroom floor while it sleeps.

By the next day Barron seems completely better, but Ray makes it stay home anyway. They get it to admit that it had been feeling sick for a while before it got this bad and just ignored it, and all three of you lightly scold it. Mostly stuff like “you wouldn’t want any of us to hide if we were sick” and “you really scared me” and “we can’t exactly call an ambulance out here and we don’t have a fucking car, I would’ve had to drag you through the fucking woods to the nearest hospital if things got any worse. And you scared Ray!”

It apologizes for hiding feeling sick and for ‘being grumpy’ while sick. It apologizes in a fairly roundabout way to avoid saying ‘I’m sorry’ and upsetting Ray, but you get the idea.

Barron and Diya spend a long time talking about how to make sure that if something does put it out of commission you all still have a non-teleportation way to get to the nearest town. Eventually they settle on Barron getting someone it trusts from work to agree to come and help if any of you message them on the computer.

Within a few days, everything is back to normal. A joyous, wonderful normal.

You feel like you’ve won. Against Jane, against your own brain, against everything that was keeping you down. Now all that’s left to do is help your other friends win too.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @fuzzybucketz

#whump #whump writing #whumpblr #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #multiple whumpees #nonhuman whumper #pet whump #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #drug abuse mention tw #emeto tw #2nd person pov #jane’s pets

[pikahlua]

I have soft food ideas! Tw British foods, I'll do my best to think of the alternatives

Sweet:

Jelly/jello - just suck it through your teeth and swallow, amazing stuff. Can eat lots since most are low calorie or even zero sugar.

Angel delight/mousse/pudding, semolina, creme caramels, custards, rice pudding - no chewing required, light and bubbly.

Ice cream, gelatos and sorbet, ice lollies, milkshakes, slushies etc - amazing but might not be appropriate if you have sensitive mouth/teeth

Juices and smoothies - yummy but avoid citrus if you've recently had oral surgery!

Porridge/oatmeal, baked oats, overnight oats, chia seed pudding etc - the super fine versions (readybrek) of porridge are great and don't need any chewing at all. If too hot, wait too cool or add a splash of milk. I like a spoonful of Nutella in to make chocolatey.

Yogurt - amazing, cool and refreshing. Avoid the fun yogurts with extra bits like granola or crunchy inclusions since they'll need chewing. Also consider soft cheeses/no base cheesecakes

Soft fruits - again avoid citrus, try cook it or mash it or something just to make it softer. Tinned fruit is always super soft. Peaches and ice cream is such an elite combo. Maybe applesauce?

Savory

Soups, broths and maybe stews - super tender veggies, overcooked or super soft noodles and shredded meats will fine for a few days and should be soft but hearty enough. If not, puree or blend. Maybe soak some bread in!

Lentils - great at absorbing liquid and become nice and aoft

Mashed potatoes - love love love these, cheesy or garlicky or covered in gravy, just so wow. Might manage a baked potato without the skin and then it's just a vessel for good stuff

Rice, risotto - plain or topped with egg or some soft fish (tinned is easy). Risotto is great because you can add yummy stuff to it

FINELY ground meat - make a Bolognese and make sure your meat is ground finely. Make a curry with finely cut soft/pureed veggies. Make a chili. Once you feel a bit braver, sloppy Joes or something

Dips - guac or hummus or whatever, a spoon will do instead of veggies/chips etc

Cottage/shepherds/fisherman's pie - soft fish or meat in a sauce covered in mashed potato and baked in the oven. No teeth needed, but a hearty real meal.

Cauliflower cheese - parboil the cauliflower like my gran does (nuke it) and then cover in cheesesauce and bake it.

Omelettes - these might be touch and go but could satisfy you enough that you wont miss scrambled eggs and toast

Pastina - cute little pasta shapes! Do all sorts with it but jar of generic pasta sauce works in a pinch.

I'm sure there's plenty of local cuisine and regional foods that are soft too that I have no idea about.

For anyone who needs it then, lol. Thanks anon.

#anon ask #ask pika

[sweetfirebird]

The only thing that DID turn out today was my ongoing gluten free baking experiments, which are slightly hampered by the fact that I am a terrible baker as it is. (I am not precise and I am often distracted. One time I accidentally put cumin into a pie filling instead of cinnamon. Yeah huh I did that. It was bad. I did *mean* to use cinnamon at least. I just grabbed the wrong thing. Why didn't I smell the difference? My nose is always stuffed up. Anyway.)

Anyway, using regular 1 to 1 GF flour on the classic Quaker Oats oatmeal cookies made them taste fine but spread out. Using Bob's Red Mill GF all purpose flour plus some xantham gum made them keep their shape! However, I do think I should add more liquid of some kind next time. Maybe a little more butter or egg. Or just a touch of oil or something.

The next GF flour I have to try is 1 to 1 replacement flour as well, but developed by the asshole guy who runs French Laundry. But that shall wait for another time.

#experiments in gluten free baking

[girlongirlactionatadistance]

I’ve been trying to come up with an inoffensive way to say that I think part of the difference in cultures between my former and current workplaces is due to the staff of the former being mostly men, and the latter being mostly women, but. Anyway.

I used to work for a company that did construction takeoffs and estimates. It was fun at times because I got to apply some things I’m studying in school and there was a strong problem solving component. Literally one woman in my whole office tho. In a senior position, so not with zero influence, but still.

Now I work as a unit clerk in a NICU. Other than attending docs, there are like five men total on staff, but on a given night I’ll be one of two or three actually scheduled.

Some of my own values have actually changed working this job, and not in ways that I think could be chalked up to general differences between the medical field and the construction industry.

For example, to make an almost inordinately broad statement, the women I now work with value making things nice. Value being the operative word. It’s not a waste of time or effort to them to make anything more pleasant or comfortable. I was literally raised - not even subtextually conditioned, like explicitly taught - to think caring about stuff like this was frivolous. And the more serious the situation, the more frivolous. Running to silliness, naïveté, and poor judgment in the limit. Converging towards possibly dangerous.

Yeah, that is actually all backwards.

It turns out healthcare is kind of a uniquely optimal setting for proving principles like that. The way things really work is, the more serious the situation, the more impact any slight kindness or conscientiousness, any little improvement that can be made, will have. It becomes huge. It’s clearly evident in outcomes for patients and in the way the unit functions.

It took me a while to learn this. It annoyed me at first. Then one day someone borrowed my desk and filled my pen jar up with new pens before leaving. I realized being annoyed was gaining me nothing. I was just scoffing internally at the “woman’s touch” all over the unit while benefitting from it in ways that were in some cases literally right in front of me.

Actually come to think of it, and idk what this means, but I think the first person who was probably trying to teach me about this “making things nice” principle was a man. Someone I consider my most influential climbing mentor in fact. In his late 60’s this guy lead me and a couple others up the emmons glacier on mt rainier. It was my first climb on a glaciated peak and it’s funny in retrospect how much I underestimated it. So, this guy baked us all cookies. Each of us got a bag of the crispiest, laciest, most delicate oatmeal cookies I’ve ever had. “Bring a treat on every climb,” he told us, “or you’re going too light and too fast.” I can’t explain how good those cookies were after a day of hopelessly strenuous climbing, looking forward to a freeze dried dinner and a night on a crowded, dirty spit of crumbly rock. Or how much easier everything seemed with the uptick in morale.

So what is my point? I think it’s that misogyny is bad for you. Maybe not for your demographic, but for you on the scale of little actions that you probably have not been taught to appreciate can make things way harder or way easier for you. Or for somebody else. Don’t give women shit for doing the stuff they do to make things nicer for everybody. Society literally conditions them that way and then teaches us that it’s just ~girl stuff~ and men should be too tough to care. Do you know how much better my old office would have run if we’d been more oriented towards picking up each other’s slack when it was needed? Towards anticipating that need? Sports metaphors. I could make sports metaphors about this.

Then again maybe it’s bad on the demographic scale, too. It’s not like my female-dominated workplace is utopia, it just has some things men’s spaces often don’t. To put my male feminist hat back on, I think the misogynist desire to control and pigeon-hole women into this role of sole-emotional-laborer arises because men obvs do need the kind of support that goes around in women’s spaces. We’re just not up for doing those things for each other. We don’t believe that we’d be better off if we were more like women.

#live-blogging my feminist awakening #feminism is the radical notion that men are people #climbing?

[ekoilemartinwrite]

Journal January 5, 2023

I just left after volunteering my time at the data center the first time. The day center at my church, I arrived at nine and left at about 150 in the afternoon. Barbara is correct, you could not make up the stories if you try. No one would believe that. I can already tell that some people there are absolute characters. I heard about someone and took her son at this moment son who, they both need a walker in order to move unless they've had alcohol in which case they can move freely and completely.

I wore my boots, I need different boots. I want to say I need to open toed boots, but I think what I need is zero trough boots, that will let my toes appropriately spread out. I've worked all day on my feet

Once, I know what being on my feet should feel that I hello, my lower back hurts.

I got woken up this morning earlier at Ornish, Sucre. I pray for about an hour that I feel like I got told to go back to bed. I chose in and out of sleep until around eight. I had not set my alarm, which I will do now on. Ashley is actually one woke me up phone call at 8 AM.

– And I seem to have come to a reasonable meeting of the minds regarding money. She's going to continue paying the rents, and that technically will be my income from which I will time. That I think will actually handle most of my monthly expenses not counting taxes. I still need to check to see what my guy has said about my savings.

In the past week Ash and I had been fighting about it a lot. She got hired, but I congratulated for a number four, then five minutes later I started talking about tithing. I do not handle it well. She is understandably upset, considering that she justifiably feels that I lied to her which was not consciously intentional, but practically, for all practical measures is what happened. She proposed the solution of just continuing to pay rent, and from that I will try.

For my first day in the day center, I started off by wiping down tables, and then I spent most the day in the kitchen just serving coffee serving whatever meal people asked for. We had some soup we had some toast with the, with the options of peanut butter, jelly, butter, we also had oatmeal, soup, baked potato, baked sweet potato, those last two were microwaved., Several different kinds of bread. I currently find it striking that I am more easily able to list off the food and items I dealt with rather than the people I dealt with. I know that it used to be true. I feel like I stored a significant chunk of my brain into memorizing the names of people and their faces.

Really was there today, I also saw Pastor Heather. I wish them both a happy new year. Barbara, saw, and Donnie were there. I also saw Garrett's, who is in charge of social services. Donny and I talked a little bit about poetry, and the next poetry meeting. Barbara is a gem. She may have the attitude of being the class clown, but she also has a knack and skill, of interacting with people. Right now, I feel like a wet blanket. I don't feel like I have the skill of interacting with a lot of different people, or bringing moods up.

I'm not certain that any particular tricks for tips are going to help me with this group. I don't think trying to be or charismatic will help. I mean, it might but only to a certain extent. It still something worth looking into. But I think maybe learning this group of people will be more helpful. Just this learning people's names, I know I recognize faces from people of the church, not being afraid to just stay in the kitchen. They mentioned how on Tuesdays there are Mormon missionaries who come to spend time it be helpful.. They would worth it would be worthwhile to be there to observe and learn that.

I am beginning to realize what I have done. I left my job. I have not been without one, really, since I left school. And even that, searching for a job was my job. And before school, school was my job. I have yet to actually figure out what my job is right now, beyond writing, and obeying God. The second is it's a job, it's a joy. At least I keep telling myself that, sometimes it is not fun. I'm just realizing how much of who I am as a person, and how much my job dictated my time.

#journal #unedited audio journal #reflection #journey #prayer #unedited #audio journal #unedited journal #writer #writers on tumblr #journaling #journalling

[chelleztjs18]

Hello you mrs. nutella eater, allergy sufferer, story writer lefty eyebag 😌

Good morning, hope you slept well! How are you?

I just finished eating breakfast. Made a bagel sandwich, that had an egg and hashbrown. What do you usually have for breakfast? Do you like oatmeal?

I think I know what you're talking about. Are they like thicker sprinkles too? I might have seen some tiktok videos of people eating that! It looks good, but I'm weird. I don't think I'd eat it because its sprinkles lol I don't even like sprinkles on donuts.

I like honey wheat. But then I found butter bread, and that's all I like now for sandwiches except when I make subs or reuben sandwiches. But my favorite is french bread, garlic bread, and sweet rolls. I could eat those anytime lol

There's this one restaurant here in Omaha where they serve fresh baked bread before the meal, and the first time I had it, the waitress showed us to have olive oil and parmesan cheese on a plate, then dip the bread..ohmygosh it was amazing. Especially since it was so fresh and hot! But the taste of the bread and oil and parmesan together..it just melted in my mouth. Maybe I'll go there this weekend...🤔🤣😅

Ah I see, so he loves to fish?

When I read the part where you called the fish ugly, I died laughing. Poor fishy lol but I know what you mean though. When I was younger, my grandma would take me with her to the market. And in the Philippines, they have like a fish market and it's open and you can smell all the fishy that they just caught for the day. The smell was so crazy and to see the fish just laying there with the tongue out like a dead person..the eyes looking at you, saying "why did you let them take meee".

Yeah I also can't eat fish with the bones. My bad experience was with sardines. I used to love sardines when I was younger, but then one time, I don't know if I got the wrong brand or something. I made it, started eating it, then felt a piercing on my gums, then something cracked between my teeth. I was surprised, and scared cause I though it was eating my own tooth or something. Then when I spit it out, it was a bone. Blegh.

No, I have not seen a shooting star either. When I go camping I always try to check the sky for it though lol

What do you do when you can't fall asleep?

-CuriousGeorge

Hello hello you bread lover little john righty eyebag!

ouh sounds like a good breakfast. wait so u put the hashbrown between the bagel? what kind of bagel u like?

i rarely have breakfast but when i have breakfast i like to have bagel and cream cheese with iced coffee. that's for the quick breakfast but if i have time to sit down and eat, i usually have either sausage patty or ham with over easy egg and bacon. or just oatmeal with raisin, almonds and brown sugar. so yes, i love oatmeal.

yes i think it's a thicker sprinkles. it's different from sprinkles here. i think u will like this sprinkles.

i dont like sprinkles on donut either. what kind of donut u like?

honey wheat and butter bread are good. i love french bread if i dip it with creamy soup. i dont like garlic bread especially if it's too strong. i like garlic only in certain food.

haha yeah maybe u should go there this weekend. then u can take a pict for me if u go. hahah. last time i went to a italian restaurant n they serve their garilc bread with olive oil and some vinagret they even put some italian herbs and u can taste the basil.

basil is one of my favorite herbs. have i asked u what's ur favorite herbs? i think i did. lol.

yes, he likes to fish.

hahaha yeees some market in indonesia are like that too. i really dont like it when my mom took me there. it grossed me out. the floor were wet and the market smell from the fish and meat. n i remember all the fish were lined up. they all looked ugly. n the life chickens n stuff. i feel like the air there is not safe to breath. hahaha. n what concerned me the most is the wet ground. some puddle probably from the seller rinse their stall. i dont know, only god knows. it stressed me out when i got splashed even just a tiny drop from whatever water whereever it comes from.

also i'm glad u died laughing when u read my comment about the ugly fish n i'm glad that u revived. lol. i laughed when u mentioned about the fish tongue. ahahhah. It makes me think something like this:

yeah we experienced kinda similar things with fish bones. hahahahaha. n it's scary for me.

u like to go camping? i don't. i had bad experience in camping when i was in girlscout.

when i can't sleep, i will write or browse the internet like instagram or tiktok or just try to sleep, tossing n turn. either way i end up got headache n i will take tylenol n fell asleep. what about u?

next question?

Cheerio!

#chellez answers #ask answered #anon answered #curious george anon

[bug4u]

everytike i try getting into oatmeal it fails miserably

#it just reminds me of bad memories in ed recovery 😭 also it tastes gross idc #i lovee oatmeal cookies tho… right wot is this then #i try putting toppings and try acting like it tastes good… but it never does #also idk if it’s only me but i hateeee hot foods #and i know i can eat overnight oats but who’s gonna go thru all that labour when i coypd make iced coffee anyways 😑 #i heard u appreciate oatmeal the older u get snd it’s been the opposite for me #ed mention #i think maybe i should try baked oatmeal #cus i know im supposed to eat it for the nutrients that my body is lacking lol #uhhhggg idk it’s so much work #i could eat eggs and call it a day but theyre rven worse and make ur breath smell bad sooo uh no

[majormeilani]

okay so. have this story i wrote from a silly prompt that came to me because i remembered birds can't eat chocolate. and i was like what if hat kid baked cookies with the bird directors?

anyway i typically don't write stories but i got grandpa conductor and grandpa dj grooves brainrot bc the idea was too cute so i felt i had to try and write it

it's not super polished and i can't promise that it's very good but i can promise you there is words. 6000+ words that is lol.

anyway story under the cut!

Hat Kid was carrying with her some special treats for her friends down at Dead Bird Studios, an elated grin upon her face. She couldn't wait to share one of her favorite foods, chocolate chip cookies, with them. She was so excited she nearly dropped a few of the cookies as she skipped through the front doors into the reception area.

As she glanced around, she noticed that DJ Grooves and The Conductor weren't bickering at the front of the reception area like usual, meaning they were probably up to their usual filming routine. There were no Express Owls near the front door either, which likely meant that was the case.

Hat Kid gave a smile to the Receptionist, who responded with the wave of his wing, and she headed through the double doors into the dimly lit studio. She tried to watch out for wires and stray props that were strewn about the studio's floor as she made her way towards her first friend, DJ Grooves.

Once she saw the director's bright red coat, she gave it a light tug and presented the plate of cookies proudly as high as her small arms could. DJ Grooves made a surprised hum at the sudden pull but turned to glance down at her.

"Darling? Is that you? Oh, my what do we have here? Some cookies-- how sweet! Thank you, Darling!" DJ Grooves said as he plucked one from the plate. He lowered his sunglasses to get a better look at the cookie and admired it.

"What kind are these, Darling? Oatmeal raisin cookies? I love those," he said, going to take a bite.

"Chocolate chip!" Hat Kid said, beaming brightly up at him.

DJ Grooves stopped once he heard what she said, pausing in his chewing.

"... What kind did you say again?"

"Chocolate… chip?" Hat Kid parroted again, looking confused and meek as she lowered the plate, observing the cookies to see if there was something wrong with them. They looked fine to her?

DJ Grooves grimaced slightly before glancing around for a napkin or something, a nearby Moon Penguin handed him one and he spit into the napkin before clearing his throat and looking down at her.

Hat Kid's face shifted in dismay. Were her cookies really that bad…? She was sure she followed the directions right…

DJ Grooves noticed her reaction and raised his flippers in defense before he got to her level to explain.

"No! No! Darling, it's okay! I'm sorry, it's my fault you didn't know this but uh-- unfortunately, us birds can't eat chocolate. It's poisonous to us. I should have asked you before you handed them to me," DJ Grooves reassured, putting his hands gently on the girl's shoulders.

"Poison…?" Hat Kid said softly, wondering how that could be. She didn't get sick when she ate cookies. Maybe birds were different, she thought.

"But don't worry, a little bit of chocolate ain't going to kill me," he added, trying to lighten up the situation, even laughing a little. "Though The Conductor on the other hand you'll have to be careful about him." Of course he couldn't not include a playful jab at The Conductor.

"Tell you what though, darling, we're about done filming for the afternoon. If you'd like, we can bake some cookies that the whole studio can share. You can keep those for your lovely self, darling," he said, giving Hat Kid's nose a light tap.

The tap brought a light smile to the girl's face and she nodded, returning the gesture with a light "boop!" on the disco penguin's beak.

"Yer thinking about baking again, DJ Peckneck?"

Both DJ Grooves and Hat Kid turned to see The Conductor standing nearby, arms folded across his chest.

"Ye remember the last time ye tri'd that? Are ye tryna burn down the whole darn'd building again?"

DJ Grooves brows furrowed and he turned and stood to face The Conductor, one hand on his hip.

"Well, the little Darling brought us some cookies but it seems we're allergic to them so I was offering to help her make some more. The least I could do for the little star."

The Conductor grimaced at Grooves before he walked towards the plate of cookies Hat Kid held and gave them a light sniff.

"Ay, those are chocolate chip cookies, aren't the'? he asked, looking to Hat Kid.

She nodded in response.

"Ay, lassie, as much as I hate to admit-- DJ Grrrrrooves is right. We bird's cannot eat chocolate. Makes us mighty ill."

"Well, see that's why--" DJ Grooves tried to interject.

"I can help ye bake some morrrre cookies. 'm not eating anything that DJ Peckneck makes. Might put something in them that'll actually do me in," The Conductor sneered.

"Wha-! But I was gonna help the little Darling bake. It was my idea after all. But I guess you can't help but steal ideas from me," he chided, a smirk coming to his beak.

"Ah, quiet ye. You'll just mess everything up. I've had a kid and some gran'kids. I know a thing or two about bakin', more than ye would, Peckneck."

"Darling, you know as well as I that I can bake a mean tuna casserole. There's no contest that I can help her make some cookies."

"Casserrrrole-- smasserrrrole," The Conductor slurred purposefully with what looked to be an… eyeroll? "Puttin' things in a pan, ain't real cookin', Grrrrrooves."

"... What if… we bake together? All three of us?" Hat Kid asked shyly, looking between the two directors meekly.

The two directors stood silent for a moment, sparing a glance at each other then back to their star. Hat Kid gave them a sheepish but endearing grin at them, of which DJ Grooves returned with a bright one of his own.

"I don't suppose why not. After all, it could be quite fun," DJ Grooves mused with a shrug.

"What the what?! Ye want DJ Grrrooves to help ye, lassie?" The Conductor asked, sounding betrayed.

Hat Kid nodded and pointed at The Conductor.

"She wants you to help too, Conductor, darlin'," DJ Grooves added. "Gotta let my crew know that we're done shooting for the day, so we can help our little star."

Stepping closer to his Moon Penguin crew who were working nearby. He gave his flippers a soft clap to gain their attention.

"That's a wrap! Good work today, darlings. We'll catch up where we left off tomorrow." His Moon Penguin crew started packing things up and heading back to their dressing rooms wordlessly and neatly.

"Arrrgghh… a'right, fine--"

The Conductor grit his 'teeth' slightly and snapped his fingers, which ushered a nervous Express Owl to his side.

"You, order me crew to quit shootin' fer today. We've got plans fer somethin' important," The Conductor said.

"Right away, sir!" the Express Owl said, rushing off to do just that.

The Conductor turned to Hat Kid and looked down at her.

"Alright, lassie, let's get to the kitchen shall we?" he asked, offering his hand to her which she gladly took, following him towards the kitchen.

"Wait-- wait for me!" DJ Grooves said, striding after the two.

~~~~

Apparently, there was a kitchen in this studio that Hat Kid hadn't seen before! The Conductor unlocked the door with a key and opened the door, revealing the never before seen room to her. She took a moment to look around in curiosity, taking in the space.

It was quite the place-- if not a bit disorganized but otherwise looked pretty safe and perfect for baking in. It had two large ovens stacked atop one another with a large fridge in one corner. There was a small microwave on the counter, a toaster and some various utensils on the counter as well. In one corner there was a sink which had a towel hung near it and what looked like a few aprons of various sizes. At the center of the room there was a large table with chairs surrounding it. It looked like a cozy little place with everything you could ever need to make something. Hat Kid wondered when the birds would use this place, probably for parties.

The Conductor held the door open for the awestruck Hat Kid, who curtsied sweetly as she passed through the door, noticing he'd be waiting for her to enter. The Conductor then let the door fall to close behind him before the lagging behind DJ Grooves could pass through, earning a soft huff and twisted face of dismay from the penguin.

Hat Kid however caught the door with her boot and held it open slightly for him, a small grin on her face. DJ Grooves smiled at her and gave her head (or rather hat) a gentle pat as he passed through into the kitchen.

"Thank you, darling," DJ Grooves said to her, walking with the small alien girl to the other bird, who was cursing as he searched the cupboards for a cookbook.

The Conductor was standing on the counter and searching the top shelves, which were filled with miscellaneous cookware, seemingly randomly stuffed into the cupboard.

"Golly, have these birds no orrrganization? This place is a bloody mess," The Conductor said, finally retrieving a dusty cookbook from a pile of various random books. He blew the dust from the book cover, sneezing rather dramatically in response which elicited a giggle from both Hat Kid and DJ Grooves. The Conductor gave a grumble as he hopped from the counter.

"Bless you, darling," DJ Grooves chimed, stepping back as The Conductor walked towards the table.

The Conductor swiped his hand dismissively at DJ Grooves, looking a bit embarrassed to have sneezed so dramatically in front of Grooves. "Ah, quiet with ye," he muttered, setting the book on the table.

Hat Kid moved to the table as well, placing the plate of cookies she'd been carrying for far too long upon it. She climbed up the chair, sitting on her knees, seating herself left of The Conductor to read the cookbook as he opened it. She looked to DJ Grooves and gestured for him to sit down as well.

DJ Grooves smirked slightly and sat to the left of Hat Kid, trying to glimpse at the cookbook.

"So what cookies should we bake?" DJ Grooves asked the two of them.

"Lassie ye can pick," The Conductor said, sliding the book in front of her.

Hat Kid rubbed her hands together and wiggled her fingers, beginning to flip through the book. She seemed to be studying the pictures intensely, lamenting her choices as if it were the biggest decision ever. Which it was, these cookies had to be the very best.

The Conductor began to search around for the supplies to bake, bowls, spoons, measuring cups, the whole deal. It was almost like he knew exactly what they would need and like he'd done this before. He brought everything to the table, setting everything out in front of the other bird and his lassie.

"Made a decision yet?" The Conductor asked, removing his coat and draping it over the back of his chair, rolling up his sleeves in preparation for the baking.

Hat Kid hummed in thought as she looked between two different recipes, making a "eh" face at both, flipping the page then she gasped softly. She then pointed and tapped upon the page at a recipe she finally chose. It was a recipe for sugar cookies, ones that included the recipe for some homemade frosting to decorate. She clapped her hands and beamed at both birds for approval of her choice.

"... Ye want ta make lil' sugar cookies?" The Conductor asked, his voice surprisingly soft, almost nostalgic sounding. Hat Kid nodded furiously.

"Darlin', those sound wonderful. Let's do it! Should be easy as pie to make," DJ Grooves said, gesturing a thumbs up.

Hat Kid bounced slightly in her seat, reading over the ingredients and committing them to her memory before jumping down. She began searching through the lower cupboards for flour, sugar and baking powder. DJ Grooves looked at the book himself before he also went searching for ingredients; his being the vanilla extract, salt and powdered sugar in the higher cupboards that Hat Kid could not reach.

The Conductor washed his hands then took on the task of gathering the milk, butter and eggs from the fridge, taking extra care to check the dates on them. He also recounted the amount of each ingredient they would need to make both the cookies and the frosting. Luckily everything was in date and it seemed they'd have just enough to complete the task. A relieved sigh came from him as he brought the supplies to the table, joining the other two again. "We're gonna need quite a lot o' ingredients if ye want ta' be makin' cookies fer the whole studio."

"Alright, darlin', let's get cookin'!" DJ Grooves proclaimed excited, reaching for the flour. Hat Kid reached for the milk and went to unscrew the cap. But before either of them could do anything, The Conductor gently stopped the girl's hand and the penguin's flipper, causing both Hat Kid and DJ Grooves to exchange a confused look.

"Uh-pu-pu-up! Ye can't start bakin' without washin' up yer hands. Unless ye want ta get everyone sick from yer germs," The Conductor scolded, wagging his finger at the two of them.

"Oh, yes, good point, darlin'," DJ Grooves said with a nod, moving to the sink.

Hat Kid jumped down too, giving DJ Grooves sleeve a light tug and reaching her arms out to him to be picked up. DJ Grooves gave her a lift so she could wash her hands before he set her down and washed his own flippers.

The Conductor watched the two of them as he tied an apron around himself to protect his clothes. He grabbed two extras from the few that were hung on the wall, one tiny apron for Hat Kid and one much larger one for DJ Grooves.

"Here, yer also gonna need these too, less ye want stuff all over ye clothes," The Conductor said, tossing the apron's to their respective persons, well, rather bird and small alien girl.

"Thank you," Hat Kid chimed sweetly, wearing the apron, and giving her hat a tap, swapping it over to a chef's hat she'd swiped from The Mafia Boss. She stood proudly with her hands on her hips, looking ready to bake.

"Ah, you even got a hat for the occasion, you look great, darling." DJ Grooves wore his own apron, thankful that his stylish jacket could now stay clean and neat.

Hat Kid climbed back in her chair ready to bake, now rolling up her sleeves like The Conductor while glimpsing at the book again to recall how much of each measurement she needed. She looked at the measuring cups for one for the flour. The birds joined her at the table, The Conductor gesturing at DJ Grooves sleeves which Grooves sheepishly rolled up as well.

"Alright, darlin', we'll follow your lead. Tell us where to start," he said, ready to help where needed.

"Flour," Hat Kid pointed her measuring cup to the bag beside DJ Grooves. Grooves gave a smile and tore open the bag for her, allowing her to fish out the appropriate amount of flour with her measuring cup. She proceeded to dump each measurement into the largest bowl they had.

Unfortunately the last cup she added to the bowl she dumped over a bit too aggressively and it caused the flour in the bowl to puff up into DJ Grooves and her own face, coating them both in flour. DJ Grooves laughed at the predicament they found themselves in and Hat Kid also laughed, finding it funny how the flour outlined where DJ Grooves sunglasses covered when he removed them. Grooves and Hat Kid both had a giggle fit over it.

"Ay-yi-yi, ye two are a mess. What am I gonna do with ye?" The Conductor said, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his brow.

The Conductor got up to get a wet cloth and returned to clean the flour from Hat Kid's face, who made this weird gibberish sound as she had her face wiped off. After she was cleaned off, The Conductor moved to do the same to DJ Grooves, the rag a few inches from his face before he realized what he was doing and froze.

DJ Grooves was patiently awaiting his own face to be cleaned off, eyes closed as if hopeful that The Conductor would do the same for him.

"Here ye, Peckneck," The Conductor said, seeming a bit flustered with his feathers seeming to stand up slightly as he handed the rag to Grooves, who accepted it but seemed to almost pout.

"Thank ya, Conductor," DJ Grooves said, patting his face with it as if he were applying makeup. "Did I get it all…?" he asked shortly afterwards.

The Conductor spared him a glance before reaching out to brush a bit of flour from DJ Grooves brows. If anyone asked him why he did that, he'd say it were because DJ Grooves is an incompetent Peckneck and leave it at that. No other reason.

"Now ye did," The Conductor muttered, turning away and returning to his seat, watching Hat Kid as she worked to measure out all the dry ingredients, as the recipe book had stated.

DJ Grooves seemed to jump slightly at The Conductor's gesture and seemed stunned for a moment. It wasn't typical for The Conductor to be so kind and gentle. Normally he'd let Grooves look like an utter fool for his own satisfaction. He wondered why this time was different but thought not to push it as not to ruin the mood for Hat Kid. And so he focused on cleaning the last of the flour from his sunglasses with his apron and the rag. He then turned his attention to the cookbook and read the page for what steps to take next.

"I'll take care of the eggs, that's the easy part," DJ Grooves said, reaching for the egg carton and grabbing the amount of eggs the recipe called for and began cracking them into a separate bowl. Unfortunately a few eggshells landed in the bowl but in his clumsiness he didn't seem to notice.

"Hold it there, Grrrooves. Yer gettin' shells in th' eggs!" The Conductor gasped, practically reaching over the table to stop DJ Grooves. He grabbed an egg from the carton and held it with one hand to demonstrate to the other two.

"Ye have'ta crack 'em like this,"

The Conductor knocked the egg firmly against the table and cracked it with ease in one swift motion, not a single shell falling in the bowl.

DJ Grooves seemed impressed with The Conductor's grace. He never knew The Conductor knew how to cook so well! And he had second thoughts about doubting him before. He always seemed the type to be all talk but it seemed he really knew his stuff. Hat Kid also seemed rather impressed herself and tried The Conductor's method of egg cracking and seemed to glow with pride when she succeeded.

"Wow, you two seem to be natural chef's!" DJ Grooves said, doing the same with his last egg and going to fish out the shell pieces he'd dropped in the first time. He then returned the extra eggs back to the carton, as The Conductor and Hat Kid had replaced a few in the little demonstration they did.

Hat Kid measured the sugar and baking powder with care and added a few pinches of salt with a flourish like a little chef. Once she added the last of the dry ingredients, she pushed the largest bowl to the side for the time being and brought another bowl to her front, reading what wet ingredients they needed. She then began to measure the milk pouring it carefully into the bowl and measuring a few tablespoons of vanilla extract. She beamed in pride at her careful measurements. All those lab experiments really paid off.

"Look at ye, lass, yer quite good at this whole measurrrin' thing," The Conductor complimented, beginning to cut some of the butter into chunks to use for the frosting of the cookies and giving a few pieces to Hat Kid to put in her wet mixture. He let Hat Kid measure the milk and the powdered sugar for the frosting mixture as well as a few drops of vanilla extract, combining everything together with her help.

Both Hat Kid and DJ Grooves seemed to notice that The Conductor seemed to radiate some positive energy, even smiling slightly as he worked at his task. It was honestly a contagious energy, he seemed almost as giddy as when he'd won an award except without all the gloating.

It was now time for Hat Kid and DJ Grooves to combine their ingredients together and they poured them into the largest bowl, ready to mix everything up. Hat Kid grabbed a spatula and tried to stir it, stirring it a few times but seeming to have a bit of trouble getting the ingredients to combine. The spatula felt like it was stuck when she'd try to stir.

"Lassie, ya gotta keep stirring until it gets smooth and ye can knead it," The Conductor input, still working at the frosting but beginning to get it to start whipping up. Once he was satisfied with the consistency, he took some plastic wrap to cover it and placed it in the fridge to keep cool and sat back down.

"You need help, darlin'? I can stir it for you," DJ Grooves said, lifting his flipper in offer to the small alien girl.

Hat Kid nodded and offered the spatula to him, needing a little break from all her hard work. He stirred it for her until the mixture turned into a thick dough. Hat Kid watched in awe as everything seemed to be coming together and she clapped her hands slightly.

"Now that looks like cookie dough to me!" DJ Grooves proclaimed, causing Hat Kid to bounce slightly on her chair.

Since The Conductor had finished with the frosting, he stood up, remembering he forgot two of the most vital things about cookie making: the cookie cutters and the rolling pin. He fished around in the drawers of the kitchen and found a few odd shapes and a rolling pin, which he brought to the table. He set the items out on the table in front of Hat Kid and she picked up the rolling pin, holding it out with determination like it were her umbrella.

"Grooves," The Conductor said, snapping his fingers at the other to get his attention. "Can ye put a bit o' that flour on the cutting board for the lassie?"

DJ Grooves smiled and sprinkled some flour onto the cutting board for Hat Kid so the dough wouldn't stick. Then he grabbed a ball of the cookie dough and placed it down for Hat Kid to roll out.

Hat Kid stared at the ball of dough before giving it a poke and tasting it. Wow! Cookies before they were baked still tasted just as good. She looked at the rolling pin and then started to roll out the dough, seeming to struggle a bit as she did and she stood upon her chair to get a bit of leverage.

"I'll help ye, lassie," The Conductor said, gently taking the handles of the rolling pin and guiding Hat Kid on how to roll out the dough. "We want em about ta be about three centimeters thick so they'll bake evenly."

DJ Grooves watched The Conductor help Hat Kid work to level the dough. He'd never seen The Conductor so encouraging before but it was a lovely sight to see. He supposed it was because he had a soft spot for Hat Kid. He'd once overheard The Conductor mentioning something about Hat Kid reminding him of his daughter. Maybe his fatherly-- and grandfatherly care-- was taking over. Paternal care was probably the word for it. He thought for a moment before he asked,

"Hey, Conductor darlin', you seem like you've done this before. You don't even seem to need the cookbook to know what to do," DJ Grooves said, resting his arms on the table. "I never knew you knew so much about cooking and baking. Do you like baking?"

Of course the penguin had to be nosey and pry like he always did. The Conductor seemed a bit tense for a moment at the question, feathers fluffing again. But it was hard to tell exactly what emotion he was feeling in that moment. He seemed to turn his head away too at the question as if he didn't want to answer. His silence made both Hat Kid and DJ Grooves look at him with slight concern and DJ Grooves mentally beat himself up for asking such a question.

But to both their surprise, The Conductor spoke up.

"... Ay. I do like ta bake. Used to do it with me daughter when she was a wee lass. We used ta make sugar cookies all ta time," The Conductor said, a subtle smile coming to his face. "We used ta make th' same recipe so many times I actually know it by 'eart."

The Conductor sat silent for a moment as he thought about the memories, his expression softening to look almost sad.

"She used to make such a mess… gettin' flour everywhere, even on her lil' face," The Conductor reminisced with a soft laugh. "I guess this whole thin' got me a lil' sentimental…" A small frown seemed to come to his face and he looked at the dough the Hat Kid had ceased to be rolling out. The lass was staring at him now, brows knit.

DJ Grooves had his flipper placed on his own chin as he listened to The Conductor speaking, noticing the frown on his face.

"I didn't mean to upset you, darlin'," DJ Grooves said, somewhat regretting even asking in the first place and he looked away slightly. It's like The Conductor said before, he messed everything up like he always did.

But instead of getting a usual berating as he'd expected, The Conductor's voice came soft.

"It's fine, Grooves," The Conductor said. "I-- I hate to admit but I've… I've had fun doing this with ye an' the lass. Yer still a Peckneck though."

DJ Grooves laughed quietly and reached over to give The Conductor's shoulder a quick gentle pat.

"Oh, I've had fun helping you too, darlin'," DJ Grooves said, looking at the cookie cutters and picking up a heart shaped one. "And of course, our lovely star here too."

Hat Kid set the rolling pin down and leaned over to give The Conductor a big hug to try and comfort him. This elicited a small smile from The Conductor and he gave the lassie a soft pat on the back.

"Thank ye, lassie," The Conductor said. "Now. Enough with the sappiness; let's start cuttin' out these cookies so we can bake 'em and get ta decoratin'!" The Conductor said adding cooking spray to the baking sheet and grabbing a cookie cutter of his own.

The three of them worked at cutting the cookies out, rolling the dough out again, filling the baking sheets until they couldn't fit anymore. They ended up with about eight dozen cookies in the end and seemed quite satisfied with their work.

The Conductor moved to the ovens, which were quite large as they were used to feed many at the studio, and preheated it to the correct temperature. All the while, Hat Kid and DJ Grooves got to work clearing up the dishes they'd accumulated and giving them a wash. DJ Grooves would scrub the dishes and Hat Kid would rinse and dry them. They'd found a little step stool in the cupboards so she could stand at an appropriate height without having trouble reaching the sink. DJ Grooves also gave the table a quick clean wipe down so they would have a clear space to work with.

The Conductor added the cookies to the oven tray by tray and he saw Hat Kid jumping down to rush over and help put the cookies in the oven, he let her put the last one in and shut the oven. Hat Kid dusted her hands off, all satisfied with the job well done that they'd accomplished. The Conductor brought some sprinkles and candies as well as food dyes from the crowded cabinets and to the table and set them out. Now all they had to do was wait for the cookies to finish baking so they could decorate them.

The trio settled in their seats once more to wait for the cookies to bake. Hat Kid messed with some of the food dye in front of her as if they were little dolls, muttering something incomprehensible that the dyes were "talking about." The Conductor watched her for a few minutes but seemed to slump slightly in his seat. DJ Grooves looked concerned for a moment at him before he heard… snoring?

The Conductor had fallen asleep. And he was snoring quite loudly, quite dramatically. DJ Grooves giggled at the sight, finding it a bit funny The Conductor had fallen asleep so easily. But he supposed that baking was tiring enough to wear the old soul out so he didn't bother to wake him.

"Y'know, darlin', The Conductor always denies he snores in his sleep but as you can see here… it's evidence that he does snore," DJ Grooves whispered to Hat Kid as if it were some scandalous secret and Hat Kid cupped her mouth and snickered, trying to stay quiet to let the bird rest. "And he says I lie and make everything up."

DJ Grooves stood up and gently lifted The Conductor's coat from his chair and placed it over the old bird's shoulders. The Conductor seemed to collapse to rest his face on the table under the weight of his jacket and he snored heavily in his sleep.

DJ Grooves asked in a hushed voice, "How long do the cookies need to bake, darlin'?"

"Ten minutes," she whispered back, holding up ten fingers for emphasis.

"Want to go take a quick walk around the studio, darlin'? So we don't disturb The Conductor in the meantime?"

Hat Kid nodded and grabbed an egg timer from the counter. She turned the arrow to ten and the small contraption started ticking and she grabbed DJ Grooves flipper, the two of them leaving the kitchen to go on a quick walk.

~~~~

The two returned to the kitchen after nine minutes passed, Hat Kid bursting through the door in excitement before she realized that, oh, right. Sleeping Conductor.

She turned to DJ Grooves and put a finger to her lips, shhh-ing him to make sure he stayed quiet. DJ Grooves put a flipper up defensively, another to his mouth but nodded and stepped into the kitchen quietly.

Then all the sudden the egg timer rang out in Hat Kid's hands, causing her to toss it between her hands as if it were a hot potato. DJ Grooves' brows raised and he clenched his beak in surprise as he eyed The Conductor at the table, Grooves feathers standing up in surprise. Once Hat Kid was able to catch the timer in both her hands, she clamped her hand on the top of the timer and turned it to silence it. Both DJ Grooves and Hat Kid stood there for a moment, quietly looking at The Conductor.

Lucky for them, he remained asleep. The two of them sighed in relief simultaneously.

"Let's check on those cookies, darlin'," DJ Grooves whispered.

Hat Kid nodded, her little smile she almost always wore returning to her once worried face. She pattered over to the oven, peeking through the glass door, the heat from the oven warping her view of the cookies. So she reached up to grab the oven door and pull it down. She grinned wider at the sight of the golden cookies and she went to reach for them with her bare hands.

Alarm leapt to DJ Grooves face and he went to grab Hat Kid's hand to stop her from burning herself.

"Darlin'...! Wait-- y-you can't just grab those with your bare hands-- you'll burn your tiny little hands," he said, as hushed as he could manage in this circumstance. "We need some oven mitts-- or something."

DJ Grooves glanced around and spotted a pair of mismatched oven mitts on top of the microwave and brought them back to his little darling. He slipped one onto each of her hands and then gestured to the oven to give her the go. She snapped the thumb like crab claws in curiosity, trying to figure out how to use them. Then she looked at the trays in the oven, gripping the edge of one, getting the hang of the mitts. She managed to pull the first tray out and lifted it onto the counter.

Hat Kid excitedly pulled the other three trays that she could reach from the oven, staring at each tray in awe as she did. She'd made the most perfect cookies with the help of her beloved bird director friends! She quietly placed the trays on the counter for the cookies to cool. Then she surrendered her oven mitts to DJ Grooves so he could pull the other four trays of cookies out of the other oven, as that one was stacked on top of the lower oven and Hat Kid was much too small to reach.

After the two of them finished removing the cookies, DJ Grooves shut off both ovens and placed the oven mitts back on the microwave oven neater than he'd found them.

Hat Kid raised a hand up to DJ Grooves and stood on her tiptoes. He noticed what she was trying to do and high-fived her little hand back. Then the two of them sat down to wait for the cookies to cool.

The Conductor then groaned softly in his sleep, seeming to stir at last, likely the smell of the cookies had awoken him. His sleepy head rose from the table and he yawned wide with a stretch, noticing his coat had been draped over his body as it fell from his back to the chair.

DJ Grooves peered from his seat over at the other bird, a bright smile on his face. He had his head tilted down to rest on the table to make himself look quite silly.

"Well, good morning, sleepyhead," DJ Grooves said smugly, a goofy laugh bubbling from him.

"Morning!" Hat Kid parroted.

The Conductor scrunched his face at DJ Grooves comment and brought a hand to his forehead, seeming to rub at his "eyes," or lack there of.

"Ah, quiet ye, Peckneck…" he grumbled. "Th' cookies finally done, ay? Ye didn't burn them did ye?"

The Conductor turned to glimpse at the counter that was covered with cookies. He seemed impressed that not a single one was burned and they looked perfectly golden.

"Ay! Not bad, ye actually brought em out from the o'en on time!"

"You can thank the little darlin' for her smart idea. She brought an egg timer with us when we went on a little walk around the studio while the cookies baked," DJ Grooves said, pointing a finger gun at Hat Kid. "So we got to them just in time."

Hat Kid beamed at DJ Grooves' praise. She felt special and proud of herself. Especially since now her bird friends could enjoy her cookies she'd made with them without any allergies or anything getting in the way.

After the cookies cooled completely, the group set to work on decorating. They dyed the homemade frosting The Conductor made various colors and added sprinkles and candies as embellishments to their cookies. DJ Grooves seemed to have a steady hand and an eye for details in his cookie decorating. The Conductor made his simple with a thin coat of frosting and a few sprinkles, seeming to find the simplicity better. Hat Kid, of course, added hundreds of sprinkles to hers and made smiley faces with her candies.

"... Those are not half bad, DJ Grooves," The Conductor said, almost seeming to admire the other's work as he spread frosting on one of his cookies.

A flushed expression of surprise came to DJ Grooves face at The Conductor's compliment but he seemed to glow slightly in pride. He touched a flipper onto his own cheek, getting some frosting on his feathers. "Aww, thank you, darlin'! Yours are honestly quite adorable too, Conductor. And yours are quite colorful, little darling."

"Ay, ye really have an eye fer color, lassie."

Hat Kid grinned, kicking her feet underneath the table. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this happy! And she was so glad to have been able to share the experience with her friends.

The cookies were the best she'd ever had. She couldn't wait to share them with the whole studio.

#ahit #a hat in time #dj grooves #hat kid #the conductor #just wholesome stuff bc they're important to me. holds them gentle #my writing #ig lollll #im kinda shy about it tho #and i kinda bs'd some stuff and magically there's a kitchen in the studio bc yes there is

[starlightrows]

2 — The Bounty Hunter

The Queen of Tatooine Masterlist

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Pairing: Boba Fett x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Brief description of injury

Summary: A change in the weather brings back a familiar face

Warm summer nights fade into crisp autumn days. You spend your days tending the garden behind your inn, working to make sure you have enough dried and canned goods for the coming winter, providing room and board for whoever happens to pass through and can pay for it, the shadow cat that likes to hang around your property has a litter of kittens. And you continue to think about Boba Fett, the supposedly fearsome bounty hunter with a kind smile.

You often find yourself wondering if he will come back. Perhaps he would come in later in the season, when the snows have fallen and clung to the trees, when a good fire in the hearth and a bowl of hot stew is all a person craves in the world. You could provide those things. You would be happy with those eyes again, glinting in the fire light while he speaks of far off places and grand adventures.

You have to snap yourself out of these thoughts, focusing your attention back on wet stone sharpening your kitchen knives. Most who pass through your door do not return. Either bounties who are caught are brought to their justice or travelers choose not to venture out so far again. Occasionally you get bounty hunters who return to catch new bounties trying to disappear into the mountains or large game hunters returning each autumn- just passing through on their way further up into the mountains where the herds of black ram and lone bears roam freely.

You do not actually expect to see Boba Fett again, and when you do it is nothing like you’d imagined in your head. A storm is brewing, not yet cold enough to bring snow, but rain, freezing rain that will flood the streets and drown out your remaining autumn plants before the first frost comes. That’s when there is a pounding on the front door in the middle of the night. No one is staying at the inn tonight… perhaps a traveler has gotten in much later than they intended… you get up and throw on a house coat… making sure to have your old hunting blaster in hand, just in case.

When you unbolt the door the howling winds try to slam it back shut, a dark figure slumps against the frame. Not a comforting sight.

“Who are you? What do you want?” you call out to the figure, trying with all your might to keep the door from whipping open all the way. The figure does not answer or perhaps they can’t hear you against the wind whistling through the trees.

Whoever they are, they’re taking too long and you’re freezing. With one hand you reach out and tug on their cloak, dragging them inside and slamming the door shut behind them. They slump back against the door, and you can hear their ragged breathing.

“There aren’t many I turn away from my inn, even when there isn’t a storm raging” I say “But if you intend to stay you’ll need to remove your hood and show some credits”

“I have credits on my ship” comes the deep rolling voice… you know that voice. Without thinking you reach out and pull back their hood. Revealing the same hard lines in his face, and those kind dark eyes. Boba Fett.

“It’s you!” You gasp “You came back”

“Wanted to see you again… and… I need your help” he grits out, wincing in pain.

“What happened?” You guide him by the arm to sit at one of the dining room tables

“Blaster bolt to the side” he groans “It’s mostly fine, just need somewhere safe to lay low for a day or two”

“Will they be coming after you?” You ask bringing him a pitcher of water

“Can’t, they’re dead” he answers, accepting the water and gulping it down thirstily. Well at least you won’t have to worry about others trying to break down the door coming after him.

“Let me take a look at that” you say indicating his wound

“Suppose someone needs to” he grunts getting up from the table. He winces when he steps, and you fall in to catch him before he lists over to the side.

“Come on, there aren’t too many stairs” you manage to get out, as you help him towards the old wooden staircase.

It’s a struggle to get him up the stairs and into the first guest room. He’s a lot weaker than he’s letting on, a good chance he’s more injured as well. You get him to lay back on the bed, and he groans.

You sit beside him and reach for the hem of his tunic and give it a gentle pull “May I?” He nods. Removing the tunic is less difficult than you imagined it would be, it’s shredded from the blaster bolt.

The wound is ugly… and you shudder just looking at it. But it’s not as bad as you were afraid it might be.

“I’m going to wash it out and wrap it with a bacta salve. A few days rest and a hot meal and you’ll be alright” You go to get up and start getting the items you’ll need together to clear out the wound, but before you can turn away he catches your wrist in a gentle hold

“Thank you” he says softly. You smile, and gently pull away.

It takes some time to actually clean out the wound, it’s painful for him and he strains to not howl with the wind as you work to clean it out. Finally you get him bandaged up, and wipe your hands on a dry cloth.

“That should do it” you say wiping your brow with the back of your hand “Please rest, and call out if you need anything”

In the morning you bring up a tray laden with tea, toast, and warm oatmeal with dried fruit and honey. To your surprise he’s up and out of bed, looking at his injury in the small mirror on the wall.

“Good morning” you say, setting the tray down on the bed… which you’re even more surprised to see is fully made. “I don’t normally do room service, but for the injured I make an exception… though you could fool me right now”

He turns to look at you “Wouldn’t even consider myself injured anymore” he says, showing you the scar left by the blaster bolt. He sits on the bed and invites you to join him. You hesitate for a moment… there’s a lot you need to get done today, and you don’t make a habit of spending time alone with your patrons. But he’s been kind thus far, and to be honest you could use the company. So you sit next to him and pour him a cup of tea.

“So tell me, what happened that you landed up on my doorstep last night?”

“I’ve been tracking down something that once belonged to me. Something that is very dear to me” he explains

“Am I allowed to ask what it is?” You smile accepting the second cup of tea he’s poured you.

“My armor” he states

“Your armor?” You’re a bit confused “How did you lose it?”

“You really don’t know who I am, do you?” He sets down his cup. You shake your head.

“No offense… but you’re just another bounty hunter to pass through my door” you admit “Well, that’s not entirely true. You’re the only bounty hunter I’ve ever undressed and stitched up”

He studies your face, and sees that you are genuine… you’re confident and self assured but there is an innocence about you. He can’t help feeling drawn to you.

“About 5 years ago, I was thrown into a sarlacc pit on Tatooine and left to die” he explains carefully “I can’t explain why I am alive today. Fate let me live. But I lost my armor, and my former position”

You nod, and listen carefully… Sarlacc’s are native to Tatooine. His… position… “You worked for the Hutt’s” you say

His heart drops, he’s disappointed you. But he won’t lie. He nods “Does that scare you?”

“That depends” you say scooting back from him. Not to get away but so you can square your shoulders and look him in the eye “Do you still condone the use of slaves?”

“No” he says quickly “I never did. It was always my intention to get close to Jabba and his most trusted advisors and usurp him. End the use of slaves. Clean up his drug trafficking. And rule over the great dune sea”

He takes your hand and squeezes it. “That is still my intention” he says “but I need my armor to do it”

“I hear Bib Fortuna rules the great dune sea now” you say “a weakling and a coward… I have no doubt you will make a better leader”

“I’ll miss your little corner of the galaxy” he says “if I asked you to visit, would you consider it?”

“Maybe. I don’t own a ship. Don’t even have a speeder. Might take me a long time to get the credits to make the trip all the way out to Tatooine” you say “but then again, if you are king of Tatooine, I can hardly refuse an invitation”

He smirks at that, “I will come back for you, Princess. I want you to visit me on Tatooine”

You shake your head, if he does successfully overthrow Fortuna, he will have his hands full ruling and dismantling the institutions he already described. He will likely forget about you, and your inn at the edge of the galaxy.

“Find your armor Boba Fett, and claim your empire” you smile “Then com me someday so I can proudly say I served tea for Boba Fett before he was king”

“You have my word Princess” he chuckles

He leaves that afternoon, with a bag you prepared for him containing home baked bread and cured meat. He promises you again that he will come back for you, and while you appreciate the thought, you won’t hold it against him if you never see him again.

Tag List: @cannedsoupsucks @otterly-fey

#Boba Fett #Boba Fett x reader #boba fett x female reader #boba fett x f!reader #The Queen of Tatooine #QT

[nat-20s]

Wonderful! Au Part 7! (also on ao3 here) another episode only installment, and obnoxiously fluffy! Have fun!

~*~

Martin, tired: Hello everybody! Welcome, or welcome back, to a very low energy episode. We have had, as the kids say, A Week Tm.

Jon, equally tired, but fond: Is that as the kids say?

Martin: I don't know, and perhaps worse, I don't really care. I guess I could ask Jeremiah next time he's over, but I'm not sure if that would actually help.

Jon: Shockingly, I don't think two year olds have their finger on the beating pulse of youth culture.

Martin: Hmm, maybe not. Speaking of Jeremiah, he's part of why the format of this episode is gonna be a bit different than our regular. On top of me dealing with a frankly obscene amount of inventory management, and Jon being swamped with grant writing-

Jon: I never want to look at proposal guidelines again-

Martin: we were on babysitting duty for our favourite neighborhood hellion-

Jon: Hey, Jeremiah is a very sweet kid! I know he's a toddler, but we shouldn't be slandering him anyway.

Martin: One, we're not even using his real name, I don't think that counts as slander, and two, exactly, he's a toddler, he's by default a hellion.

Jon, teasing: This coming from the person that actually wants one?

Martin: I..look, if anything, the last few days have shown we should not be permanent parents.

Jon: But?

Martin:...There's no but.

Jon: I don't believe you! Are you lying for my benefit or the audience's? Because someone spent the last five days wearing one of the largest grins I've ever seen, exhausted as it may have been.

Martin: Okay! Fine, I admit, I liked having a kid around. I still think it would be a bad idea to do it full time, but I dunno. I wish we weren't both only children or something. We would make such good uncles.

Jon: Should I should have taken that teaching job after all?

Martin: Perhaps. After all,

Martin, singsong: An English teacher, is really someone!

Jon and Martin, singing together: If only you, had be-come one!

Jon: Honestly, though, I was considerably underqualified. I'm much more suited to my current job, even if it doesn't have quite the same impact on the "shaping of the next generation" or whatnot.

Martin: Wait, you actually care about qualifications now? When did that change?

Jon: This coming from Mister "master's degree in parapsychology"? And it was probably around the time that the world ended from taking on a workload I was ill-suited for.

Jon:...

Jon: Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Martin: Oh, of course. Definitely nothing literally apocalyptic in our pasts, no siree, nothing to see or speculate about or make weirdly involved forums for here. Uh, anyway, long introduction not so short: Both of us have been averaging about 4 hours of sleep, so any sort of actual research was not on the table.

Jon: If any of you are wondering why we didn't just say that we're both very much worn out and thus we'll be taking a week off, it's because we're both deeply, deeply stubborn.

Martin: It's one of our best shared qualities that has never caused any conflict between us, ever.

Jon: In fairness, sheer stubbornness does account for, what, 75% of the reason that either of us are still alive? And it hasn't caused a major conflict between us in a good three years.

Martin: That's true. We've become a deeply boring, relatively conflict free couple. Which fucking rules, by the way. To all the couples out there: I highly recommend being boring. It is so nice. We've gotten to go to the farmer's market so many times.

Jon: You do love the farmer's market. I would say that it's the access to fresh produce, but I think you just like the attention that one yarn seller gives you. Can't believe you would take advantage of a crush to get discounts on wool. How did I marry such an opportunist?

Martin: Ollie does not have a crush on me. They're just friendly to everyone.

Jon: Bullshit. I certainly never get an extra skein or stitch markers or delicate fabric cleaner tossed in my bag. Actually, I think I've been charged more for committing the crime of having married you before they could.

Martin: I'm..70% sure that's not true, but every sentence we speak, we stray further from even pretending to be on topic. So, to everybody listening, this is the itty bitty episode! Basically, we're only doing small wonders and user submissions. If you want details or backstory for things we like, too bad, come back next week. Jon, I believe you're first this week?

Jon: Oh, right. My first small wonder is cat names.

Martin: Delightful, but unsurprising. Though, I would've expected either more or less specificity. Why cat names as opposed to pet's names in general, or, like, military title names?

Jon: Well that's simple enough. I've simply never met a misnamed cat, even if the name itself wasn't to my personal tastes, and I think that speaks to the wonderful universality of cats.

Martin: This, of course, implies that you have met animals that were misnamed.

Jon: Oh, I have. I once met a papillion dog named Meatball.

Martin: Now I know you don't like food names in general for pets, but are you sure that Meatball didn't suit the dogs personality? I've known some "Meatballs" in my lifetime.

Jon, only half-mock offended: Of course it didn't fit, Martin. She was a lady. A nervous, jittery lady, but a lady nonetheless.

Martin, laughing: And what, you've never met a dignified cat with an undignified name, or vice versa? Would you be okay with our cat being named Meatball?

Jon: I would be upset if our cat was named Meatball, because we named her and we're above that sort of thing, but, technically speaking, she could have been Meatball in another lifetime and it wouldn't have been wrong. You see, all cats are a mix of both extremely austere and little baby idiot.

Martin: Oh, is that the scientific terminology?

Jon: It is. Now, while there's probably some amount of, er, normative determinism or confirmation bias or something that results in a cat with a more dignified name seeming to possess more of that austerity, as all cats have both, any name can, potentially, fit. Hence why it's wonderful.

Martin: I..accept your proposal for now, but I think more research needs to be done. Maybe we should visit the shelter this weekend and test your hypothesis.

Jon: Hmm. I think we may need to visit multiple shelters, actually. A large sample size is necessary for any sort of veracity, obviously.

Martin, imitating Jon tone: Obviously.

Jon: Glad you agree. What's your first small wonder?

Martin: Tofu!

Jon: I..didn't realize you liked that much?

Martin: Well, I don't get it very often since I know you can't stand the texture, even though it is not like 'worse scrambled eggs', and you're a horrible food thief-

Jon: Lies and slander. We readily share. If I'm a horrible food thief, you have committed the exact same, if not worse, crime as myself.

Martin: Well, we are thick as thieves.

Jon, groaning: You're thick as something alright

Martin: Rude! My beloved husband-

Jon: -uh huh-

Martin: whom I love and trust with my most tender of hearts-

Jon: -an oddly cannibalistic turn of phrase-

Martin, badly suppressing laughter: Oh, my god. I want a divorce, then I can put tofu in as many dishes as I like. I'll triple my protein intake.

Jon: It'd never go through. I'll burn the papers. No, wait, I'll burn down the legal offices where the papers are kept.

Martin: Hmm. While my experiences with it have been, uh, varied to say the least, I do have to admit that arson is one of the more attractive crimes of passion. I suppose I'll take you back.

Jon, flat: I'm so very grateful.

Jon, genuine: You do have yet to actually tell me why you think tofu is wonderful, love.

Martin: It's just a good food! It's neutral enough that you can toss it in pretty much anything with a sauce, you can bake it, you can fry it, whatever. Plus it's what? two? Three quid? I spent many years of my life living off the cheapest, saltiest approximation of noodles you could imagine, and half a pack of tofu, a little bit of sesame oil, and some green onions went a long way to both making it more filling and less sad. 

Martin: Plus, I feel like it often gets decried for being something it's not? It's so often viewed as a meat substitute or the vegan alternative option, and so when people try it, they often go in with a false preconceived notion of what it's going to be like, and then end up disappointed. They're all like, 'ugh, this doesn't taste like turkey!' and yeah, of course it doesn't. It's the oatmeal raisin cookie of the protein world, a perfectly good and tasty treat on its own, but if you want chocolate chip, it's not gonna work.

Jon: Martin you don't even like oatmeal raisin. I'm the only one that ever eats them out of the multipacks.

Martin: Well, yeah, but I don't like oatmeal raisin because of its flavor, not because I think it should be chocolate chip and fails. It illustrates my point. Also, just for balance, is your next small wonder oatmeal raisin cookies?

Jon: No, though, maybe one of these weeks. They are good. But no, um, my next small wonder is being married.

Martin, let out a high bark of a laugh: Being married is a small wonder?!

Jon: Small wonders doesn't mean a lack of importance! Or even significance in our lives. Half the time we even end up spending just as much time chattering on about them as the things we actually research. But, yes, I didn't feel like researching the concept of being married. For one, a lot of the history of it is depressing and patriarchal, and for two, it's not something I really feel any need to elaborate on. Being married. I very much enjoy it. I recommend it for anybody that's found someone that they want to marry, and who wants to marry them. I really recommend being married to Martin Blackwood, I think I would enjoy it significantly less if it was to anybody else, but one: we typically try to make the wonderful things in this show  applicable to more than just ourselves, and two: I got there first, so I believe the appropriate thing to say here would be; neener neener and/or everyone else can go suck it, Ollie.

Martin: Well...

Jon: Well, what?

Martin: Saying you got there first is technically not true-

Jon: What?!

Martin, laughing like a bastard: Sorry, sorry! Couldn't resist! Jon, you already know that you're my first real realationship, how would be married before fit that?

Jon: Hence my surprise at the notion! I cannot believe you! I give you my trust, my earnestness, and belief-

Martin [only laughs harder]

Jon: and you throw it in my face for a bit. I take back everything, being married is a nightmare, because sometimes your partner thinks he a fucking comedian and you just have to put up with him because you love him and want to live the rest of your life with him or some such nonsense. Not worth it, if you ask me. My turn to ask for the divorce.

Martin: Babe, hate to break it to you, but both of us are guilty of doing bits that the other doesn't like, it's an integral part of  a healthy marriage, and secondly, you knew who I was long before I proposed. You should've said no when you had the chance.

Jon: Hang on, you proposed?

Martin: Yeah? This isn't part of a bit, of course I proposed. I'm even pretty sure you were there. The whole visit back to Scotland trip? I finally made you a sweater and said it was because we would now be immune to the boyfriend curse?

Jon: No, no, I remember all that, but it wasn't the proposal. It was a reaffirmation of the proposal. We had already decided to get married.

Martin: Well, yeah,, I wasn't just gonna spring that on you, we had had conversations beforehand-

Jon:  No, I mean, I had already proposed. I asked you to marry me a good three years earlier, and you said yes, which is a proposal by any definition that I know.

Martin: Jon, love, darling, apple of my eye, fire of my soul, I mean this in the nicest way possible, what the everloving fuck are you talking about?

Jon: In the ambulance ride when we, uh, moved here. It was the thing I said to you the second I saw your eyes were open.

[An audible pause is left in the recording.]

Martin: That does not count.

Jon: How does it not count?! I asked you to marry me, you very emphatically said yes, that's the de facto definition of an accepted marriage proposal!

Martin: It doesn't count because you were half-delirious with blood-loss, and I had a traumatic brain injury that the hospital was very surprised I made a full recovery from. No court in the world would consider anything we said then more than pain driven ramblings, let alone, I dunno, contractually binding.

Jon: Well, I knew what I was saying well and clear. Just because it was desperate doesn't mean it wasn't sincere. I didn't realize that you weren't as cognizant when you accepted.

Martin, snorting: Yeah, didn't really need to be cognizant to say yes. I've wanted to marry you since the train ride to Scotland.

Jon: Wait, really? Martin, we hadn't even been on a date.

Martin: And yet we were on the lamb together, which I honestly think is more romantic than sitting in some restaurant somewhere trying to get through icebreakers. Also, back up, from your perspective we've been engaged since 2019? What did you think we were doing in the interim?

Jon: Uhh..

Martin: Yes?

Jon: There are people that have long engagement periods, and it's not exactly like we were in any sort of position to get married for awhile. Especially not that first year.

Martin: Okay? And?

Jon: And..I sort of thought you had changed your mind. For awhile. Was rather surprised that you kept living with me, considering that, on the worst nights, I was convinced you were going to storm off and leave me forever any minute now. Hence why your proposal was rather relieving.

Martin: Oh, Jon, love. That is so very ridiculous, and so very you, and so very close to many of my own fears and doubts. Do you have any idea how terrified I was to float the idea of marriage to you? Half the time I was convinced I was just meant to keep you company until you found someone better. And, Christ, we'd, from your perspective, been engaged the whole damn time. Fuck.

[Jon, after a beat, starts laughing. It has a slightly hysterical edge to it. Martin joins in. It takes a minute for the laughter to subside enough for them to speak again.]

Jon: I'm rapidly realizing that our entire romantic relationship would've been, if not more successful, a hell of a lot faster if we weren't both complete fools.

Martin: You're realizing that now? I think I've known that since the CV incident. I've definitely known it since the Lonely.

Jon, with a slightly tired chuckle:Yes, yes, something probably should've tipped me off earlier. Shockingly, observation of our own personal romantic trends is not always a strong suit of mine.

Jon: Anyway, please tell me you have another small wonder, this has gotten wildly of track.

Martin: Since we're talking about marriage anyway, I think my next small wonder is having a shared reference in your wedding vows. Our friends had "I have been, and always shall be, your friend" in theirs, and I made Jon cry with a slightly altered Lord of the Rings quote in ours.

Jon: First off, we were both openly weeping long before that point, secondly, I defy anybody to have been through half of what we have and then have the love of their life look them in the eyes and tell them "Leave you? I never intend to. I am going with you, if you climb to the moon" without at least tearing up.

Martin: There wasn't a dry eye in the audience, either. Granted, the audience was only 20 people, but that was also literally the only time I've seen Eloise show a strong emotion, so I'm pretty smug about it.

Martin, soft: I still feel exactly the same, you know. If you're climbing to the moon, I'll make sure the rope is strong enough for two.

Jon, soft: I know, love.

Jon: Though, to be fair, the moon is also significantly more pleasant than many places we've been.

Martin: God, I hate how much that's true. Look at this barren, oxygenless rock, at least it's not actively trying to kill us. Practically a honeymoon location.

[Martin sighs]

Martin: I am so tired. Let's do the user submissions then take a very long nap.

Jon: Please.

Martin: So, first submission is from Josie; They find it wonderful getting cards from their friends. They say they're lucky to have so much love in their life and have friends that care enough to send them things. That is wonderful Josie! We have a drawer in our house dedicated to every loving card we've ever received since the move, and they're always such a nice reminder of the people in our lives.

Jon: We should really organize that drawer, but, yes, agree with the sentiment. Even the cards from people that are no longer in our lives are lovely, I think. Those connections are very much meaningful for both of us, whether they're active or not.

Martin: That's very true.  Next submission is from Lys, who submits the sound of leaves crunching under your feet in the fall. Ah, that's a classic.

Jon: I just felt myself relax imagining it. I wish it was autumn.

Martin: Don't we all? Alright, for the last submissions, I'm grouping them together as they follow a similar theme. Jadwiga submits the feeling of waking up well into the morning with the sun shining through the window and your cat laying next to you, and Oran submits when a dog falls asleep with its head in your lap.

Jon: I can heartily recommend at least one of those, considering that's how we try to wake up most mornings. The Duchess is a dutiful darling girl who spends every night with us, and she's usually still there when us humans rise.

Martin: I bet you'll agree with the other when I finally convince you to get me a dog for my birthday.

Jon: It hasn't happened yet, so I wouldn't hold your breath.

Martin: But you don't even dislike dogs! You're just as happy to pet them when they pass by as I am.

Jon: Being fine with an animal isn't the same thing as wanting to adopt one for yourself! We don't even know if The Duchess would put up with a dog.

Martin: I bet she would. I bet we could get a big senior dog who's the calmest animal you've ever met with those soft eyes and a little grey on the muzzle and she would cuddle up in an instant. And we did say we should visit a shelter or three this weekend..

Jon: I think you're rather callously taking advantage of my exhausted state, but I suppose we can look. 

Martin: Hell fuckin yeah. So, I think that'll close out the episode, and as we always say at the end, uh, go take a nap and get a dog. Not necessarily in that order.

#wonderful! au #jonmartin #tma #jon sims #martin blackwood #my fic #thank you to everyone that submitted!!! #also; i am offically out of ideas for installments #more may come later but i make no promises!

[x-childish-x]

The Story of Us

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Fandom: Marvel

Warnings: Fluff, sadness, depression, mentions to breakup, mentions of therapy

Word Count: 2,211

A/N: Hello everyone! Firstly, thank you so much for all the love and all the support on this story! I'm so happy to produce more work for you guys and get this story going! I would love to hear your guys' thoughts on this chapter, maybe even predictions, and/or just general feedback. I want this story to be something you all want/love, and I'm taking all previous comments/asks/votes into consideration while writing. I will be keeping the winner of which boy reader will end up with as a secret until the end! Anyways, I hope you enjoy! The Story of Us by Taylor Swift

Summary: After Stark's party you feel unsure of what to do with yourself, that is until someone comes to help you figure it all out.

PART ONE, PART TWO, PART THREE, PART FIVE, PART SIX, PART SEVEN

(gif not mine!)

You weren't sure what you should do after realizing you were still immensely in love with Bucky. It'd been three days since you saw him at Stark's party, the party you never should've gone to. 

The first day, you spent crying, nestled under all your blankets in the dark, crying your heart out. It was so wrong. You always used to think you'd grow old with Bucky, that you'd tell your kids and grandkids how you met him, and it was electric. From the moment Wanda introduced you to Bucky, the two of you immediately clicked, and everyone knew you'd get together. But now... now you'd tell your kids, if you had any, he was an old love, your first and maybe your only true love, when they'd come across an old photo of the two of you.

The second day, you spent pacing around your house like a madwoman. You tried contacting Wanda repeatedly, but to no avail, she never picked up. So you paced around the house, arranging and rearranging things, chastising yourself for organizing things in a way Bucky wouldn't like, and then scolding yourself for settling things in a way Bucky would like. You repeatedly gathered the few things you still had of his and put them in a box, trying to convince yourself to get rid of them, before putting it all back and starting your compulsive process all over again.

And now, on the third day, you were sure that process would've started again if your neighbor hadn't called Sam, begging him to come because she was worried for you. 

And so... like the man he was, Sam immediately came, expecting to find you crying under blankets like when he'd come to get you for Stark's party. Instead, Sam found you in the kitchen, furiously whispering to yourself as you stood over a batch of cupcakes.

"(Y/n)?" Sam asked quietly, watching your head snap up, a bright smile on your face.

"Sammy! Come here! I've made three different batches of cupcakes, and I have two batches of cookies in the oven right now, and I'm going to make macarons in a little bit! I figured, y'know..." Sam's eyes widened at the display on your counter, immediately understanding why your neighbor was worried, "I've come to terms with my emotions surrounding Bucky, and I can't mope. Moping's not good for you, y'see, so! I'm baking... baking is great for coping!"

"(Y/n)..."

"There's apple crumble cupcakes, strawberry cheesecake cupcakes, and mocha cupcakes."

"(Y/n)..."

"Then chocolate chip m&m cookies and white chocolate-chip oatmeal cranberry cookies are both in the oven right now."

"(Y/n)..."

"And I'm preparing the batter for red velvet macarons right now since I just finished icing these cupcakes."

Sam grasped your arms gently, halting your stirring of the batter and forcing your gaze to flick up to him, "(Y/n), stop.."

"But... it's good... for coping," You whispered to Sam, your eyes filling with tears as your mind seemed to catch up with your body.

Sam sighed, grabbing a towel and holding it out for you to wipe your hands in, "Baking can be a good coping mechanism, but you're using it for distraction."

Sam wasn't wrong, and you knew he wasn't. You were trying your best to keep your mind occupied because you knew you couldn't do anything with Bucky. You loved him, but you knew that even if he came crashing to your appointment, tumbling to his knees and begging you to take him back, you'd say no. You couldn't let the same mistakes happen. It was too obvious that the both of you still needed to grow before something as simple as talking about your relationship. Bucky fucked up big time, and you knew he had so much to make up for if things ever started heading that way again. But that didn't mean you loved him any less, it didn't mean you didn't want to be with him any less.

Your bottom lip quivered as Sam cleaned your hands, "I still love him Sammy... but he's moved on, and I... I don't know what to do!"

"It's okay to love him still," Sam sighed, cupping your cheeks, "But you need to realize he was terrible to you in the end."

"Well, I was--"

"No," Sam shook his head, "You cannot blame yourself. Bucky was shitty to you, absolutely terrible, and not one ounce of the amazingness you deserve. Yes, Bucky was scared, and he pushed you away because he realized how close you two were. But Bucky is also a grown man. He should've realized that he was hurting you more by pushing you away while you were so patient and putting up with all his bullshit."

"But Sam--"

"No, no buts," Sam snapped, his tone no longer gentle but now stern as he forced your gaze onto him, "He is a grown man who royally fucked up. Yes, he's getting better and has the potential to treat you great, but he messed up. You cannot blame yourself for his mistakes. You are an amazing woman, and he missed his chance. Actually, no, he threw away his chance! Sometimes we love things that hurt us, but we need to put ourselves first."

Slowly, you nodded, blinking away tears as you tried to keep Sam in your vision. You spoke slowly and quietly, "It's okay to love him?"

Sam nodded, a small smile on his lips.

"But I can't blame myself."

He nodded again, his smile growing.

"And I need to accept he's happy. And I deserve to be happy too?"

"That's it," Sam's hands left your cheeks and grasped your hands.

You smiled, nodding slowly, "I can't be treated the way he treated me."

Sam nodded, pulling you into his chest, "See.. this is the best way to start. Constantly say those things to yourself. When you doubt yourself and feel like you're falling back, think of those things."

"There's just so much I still want him to know... we never really talked about anything," You mumbled, nervously playing with the hem of your apron.

Sam sighed, "He's had plenty of chances to talk to you. I know it probably is killing you, seeing him with his wife and all, but Honey, that just means it's not time to talk yet. Neither of you is ready for it."

You nodded softly, continuing with the macaron batter, "I just... our story is a tragedy now. I mean, we try to avoid each other, and we're always so silent. Why can't we admit this is something! It's something huge! We haven't even been able to be friends!"

Sam nudged you, holding the piping tube as you began to fill it, "It's weird, but it ended nasty. You're both still growing. You need time before you're ready to touch those wounds."

"I just hate acting like I care so little, like I'm not affected," You huffed, leaning into Sam slightly, "I wish he knew that he could just say the words... say anything, and I'd drop it all. I'd forgive him for everything."

"Honey, that's not healthy. That's what you gotta prevent," Sam sighed, leaning against the counter as he handed you the piping bag, "Maybe you should start up therapy. I think it'd really benefit you. Help you become more self-aware, set boundaries, and prepare you for communication with Bucky."

A tiny whine left your lips, and you leaned into Sam completely, "But therapists are all... mean and nosey!"

"Hey! I was a social worker once upon a time!"

You laughed as Sam squeezed your side, causing your grip to tighten on the piping bag resulting in a much larger amount of mixture to come out, "Sammy! Now there's gonna be one really big one!"

"Don't worry, honey. I'll have that one."

You laughed, you genuinely laughed. Your head was tossed back in pure glee, and a huge smile was on your face, and Sam felt ecstatic. He remembered how rare it'd been for you to laugh like that since Bucky and you broke up, and since Wanda left, you practically never even genuinely smiled. But now, here you were, making all sorts of baked goods to truly cope, and not just distract yourself, and you were laughing!

Sam helped you take the batches of cookies out and replace them with the macarons. You were glad for his presence. Everything seemed lighter, happier. You felt like you could get through everything when Sam came to the rescue. And come to the rescue Sam certainly had. Because when you finally took out the macarons and finished making them, you stared at roughly 48 cookies, 68 cupcakes, and 28 macarons.

"Gifts!" You yelped suddenly, rushing to your pantry where you kept small plates, "I can mix and match, give them away!"

Sam smiled, watching you start sorting all the cupcakes and cookies and macarons into groups. You worked quickly, talking to Sam about who you wanted to give food to. It was a huge moment, you were having a breakthrough. You wanted to go out. You wanted to see people, you felt amazing. To not be moping around, but instead proactively doing something. Sure, maybe the story of Bucky and you was ending, but your story was just beginning.

Sam drove you around without a single complaint, watching as you skipped up to each door with a happy smile, behaving as if you'd started a new chapter in your life.. Each person you visited had been happily surprised, not only to get your delicious treats but to see you. Your neighbor was ecstatic, mouthing 'thank you' to Sam when she hugged you. Steve, Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Nat, Clint, and Bruce had also all hugged you, saying how happy they were to see you. You insisted you couldn't stay long and rushed off to give cupcakes to Peter, and then you insisted Sam drove you to Bucky's place.

You walked up the steps happily, ignoring Sam watching you from the hood of his car. You pressed the doorbell and waited patiently, hoping Bucky would be the one to open the door, but you were instead met with his wife. Still, you smiled, feeling like an intruder on the woman you really didn't know. She smiled back, albeit more of a grimace, and opened the door wider. The white cat, Alpine, bolted out and repeated his actions of last time you'd come. Rolling on your feet and meowing happily.

"Hi, Chloe!" You smiled widely, "I went on a baking binge, and I thought I'd bring some treats for Bucky and you!"

"Oh! Thank you!" Chloe smiled, taking the two plates from you. 

She had to hold in a scoff because she actually felt threatened. Not only were you bringing baked goods for Bucky once again, but Alpine was rubbing all over your ankles, which he never did to her. She knew your past with Bucky, knew that you were a threat to her relationship with the strong avenger. Avenger... she still swooned slightly at the word. Sure, she hadn't been aiming for Bucky, but she figured the brunette boy was the best way to get closer to Steve Rogers anyways.

"But... y'know (y/n)..." Chloe started, a glint in her eyes that immediately made you feel insignificant, "I'd appreciate it if you'd back off of Bucky. He's a married man, and you clearly missed your chance."

You watched with wide eyes as she threw the plates directly into the trash, a smirk on her face as you stuttered, "Chloe... it's not... I mean... I would never do that. As you said, he's married and--"

"And you're still in love with him. This isn't high school," The slightly taller woman sneered, her eyes narrowing on you as she spoke, "Stop pining after a taken man. You'll regret it if you do... I don't give many warnings."

A chill ran down your spine, goosebumps forming immediately at the woman's words. You were stunned as she slammed the door shut, Alpine meowing loudly as he went and sat at the door. You turned, face contorted in confusion and slight hurt as you walked down the steps. This isn't high school? Really? Bold of her to say that while she was acting the way she did. 

Sam rushed to your side, grabbing your shoulders lightly, "Honey what's wrong? What happened?"

"N-nothing," You stuttered, shaking your head slightly, "Chloe was there, I just uh... wasn't expecting her to be so nice?"

Sam raised an eyebrow as you leaned into his chest, burying your head into his shoulder. Your arms wrapped tightly around him, longing to feel safe in some way. Though he questioned your behavior, Sam didn't argue. He wrapped his arms around you as his gaze flicked to his best friend's house. 

Immediately you felt immensely safer when Sam's arms wrapped around you. You weren't sure what it was or why, but the words Chloe said made you feel scared. Maybe it was the crazed glint in her eyes that you chose to ignore, or maybe, it was the snarl in her voice... but you feared that she would hurt you. 

And as Bucky's beloved wife watched from a window, she knew immediately that you would be all too easy to break.

Tag list: @thesneakylittleminx @vicmc624

#x-childish-x #tell me i'm a wreck #someone like you #the one that got away #the story of us #james buchanan barnes x y/n #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x you #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #jamesbuckybarnesxy/n #jamesbuckybarnesxyou #jamesbuckybarnesxreader #buckybarnesxreader #buckybarnesxyou #buckybarnesxy/n #jamesbuchananbarnesxy/n #jamesbuchananbarnesxyou #jamesbuchananbarnesxreader #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #MCU #now i'm gonna go pass out

[rosyfingereddawnn]

That’s The Way (Chapter 5)

Pairing: Jimmy Page x Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Warning(s): Nothing! This is such a sweet chapter :)

Author’s notes: Another sweet little chapter with Jimmy and Y/N, with a guest appearance from Lillian, everyone’s favourite rascal ;) This chapter was honestly such a joy, and my partner in crime @rebel-without-a-zeppelin is so amazing as always!!! As usual, please enjoy, happy reading, and send us messages if you have theories, comments, music recommendations for the playlist, or if you want to be added to the tag list :)

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

——

Y/N was in the kitchen, washing the dishes as she hummed to a tune she had just heard on the radio. She had just spent the morning baking biscuits, brownies, and all sorts of homemade goodies, and everything was still warm and cooling on a plate on the counter. Lillian’s loud footsteps reverberating through the house signalled that these delicacies wouldn’t be there for much longer.

“Y/N! Y/N!” she shouted in her high-pitched, innocent voice, as her footsteps grew closer. She scurried through the kitchen to stand at her sister’s side, looking up at her with her big eyes.

“What is it, Lil?” her sister responded, still scrubbing a bowl with a soapy sponge.

“I need you to braid my hair,” Lillian replied softly, her smile glinting in the afternoon sun.

“What for? What’s the occasion?”

Lillian’s lips pursed into a grin that she was trying to hold back. “Nothing,” she said in a sing-song tone, her head curling into her shoulder bashfully, “I just like the way it looks.”

Y/N huffed. “I’m kind of in the middle of something here,” she motioned towards the sink with her sudsy gloves; it had been filled to the brim with dirty dishes, though the mountain of tableware was lessening by the minute.

“Pretty please? I just want to feel beautiful like you,” her little sister whined, tugging on Y/N’s clothes.

Overcome with empathetic emotion, Y/N conceded, removing her gloves and turning the sink off. Crouching down to Lillian’s level, she held her hands, gazing into her eyes.

“Lillian, don’t say that about yourself. You are beautiful, truly,” Y/N coaxed earnestly.

“But when you braid my hair, I feel my most beautiful,” Lillian frowned.

Y/N couldn’t argue with Lillian, because she herself had bouts of self-consciousness and low self-esteem. Oh, the joys of being a young girl, Y/N thought, a wry grin on her lips. Ruffling her sister’s hair slightly, she replied, “Go sit at the counter and grab yourself a biscuit then.” Lillian giggled as she scurried over to the counter, reaching to grab one of each baked good from the three plates.

Y/N ripped off a piece of paper towel and handed it to Lillian so she wouldn’t leave any crumbs in her wake, as Lillian swung her feet as she sat atop the tall barstool chair and munched on her biscuit, a mischievous look on her youthful face. Y/N stood behind her, putting two elastics around her wrist.

“What kind of braids do you want, Lil?” Y/N asked, grabbing a nearby pencil to separate a perfect middle part down the back of her sister’s hair then tying off one side.

“I quite like Dutch braids,” Lillian said cheerfully.

“Okay, Dutch it is.”

Just as Y/N separated three strands of Lillian’s hair, the phone began to ring. Oh come on! Y/N thought with a huff. “Hang on a minute, Lil, let me answer this.”

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N, it’s Jimmy,” a familiar voice echoed through the phone. Y/N’s eyes widened at the sound, a smile creeping onto her lips. There was a part of her that hadn’t expected him to call, though the way her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice only confirmed how happy she was about it.

“Hey Jimmy, how are you?” she replied, leaning against the wall in an attempt to look composed, though she was twirling the cord around her finger nervously, almost combusting from excitement.

“I’m well, love, how about yourself?” he asked, his soft voice coming across as calm and casual, though he was, in fact, not calm at all, unbeknownst to Y/N. His sweaty palms readjusting their grip on the phone every few seconds as they spoke would have been a dead giveaway.

“I’m doing well, thanks.”

“JIMMY!” Lillian squealed from the background, “Tell him I said hi!”

Y/N laughed, “Oh, and Lillian says hi.”

Jimmy chuckled, “I heard. A very enthusiastic little one. Tell the sweet girl I said hello, if you don’t mind.”

“I will,” Y/N giggled before a pause, “What’s up?”

“Well, I have a day off today, you see. I’m going book shopping, and I was wondering...if you’d like to possibly come along...” he trailed off, almost unsure of his invitation.

Y/N’s stomach dropped at his invitation. He wanted her company?! As much as she wanted to jump for joy and scream, she had to suppress her emotions as best she could. Lillian was sitting right there after all, and if she caught wind of her small crush? Y/N would never hear the end of it. All of St. Albans would know, given how enthusiastic Lillian can be. She cleared her throat, recomposing herself before answering, “I’d love to come along! Thank you so much for the invitation,” Y/N gushed, “What time were you thinking?”

“How about twenty minutes?” Jimmy asked, “I’ll have my driver take us, so you don’t have to worry about transportation.”

“Perfect! See you then.”

“See you soon, love.” With that, the phone clicked, signalling the man’s departure.

“What did Jimmy want?” Lillian asked as Y/N walked back over to behind her chair.

“Oh nothing,” Y/N replied, taking three strands of her hair, “just asked if I would come shopping for books with him. He’s picking me up in twenty minutes.”

“Oh, that sounds like so much fun!” Lillian said cheerfully, genuinely happy that her sister was spending time with her friend. She was not at the age to assume any type of budding romance or feelings between the two, much to Y/N’s relief.

“Yeah, I’m excited!”

“Maybe you should give him what you baked,” Lillian offered, “I think he’d like them!”

“That’s a good idea,” Y/N agreed. “Since I’m not going to be home for a while, can you help Mum with the dishes? I feel bad I didn't finish them.” Lillian nodded with a hum as she quietly munched on her biscuit and a comfortable silence settled between the sisters.

Oh, to be that young and naïve, Y/N thought as she finished braiding Lillian’s hair, no stress, no problems, no worrying about boys...

~~~~~~~~

Just as Jimmy had said, his driver was in front of Y/N’s front door in exactly twenty minutes. She put a biscuit, brownie, and oatmeal cream pie into a plastic bag and tucked it into her purse before walking out the door. Butterflies erupted in her stomach as she walked towards the car, seeing Jimmy in the back seat with an open spot next to him.  

“Hello Y/N, love,” Jimmy greeted jovially as the girl slid into the seat next to him. The smile on his face felt warm and welcoming to the young girl, easily returning a smile with the same emotion.

“Hi! Thanks again for inviting me to join you,” Y/N replied as the driver smoothly pulled away from her house and started down the road.

“Oh, no problem! I was hoping that I didn’t have to go alone, so I thought of you,” Jimmy grinned. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way he fidgeted with his fingers nervously while he spoke. Could he actually be feeling as nervous as she was?

“That’s so sweet, thank you,” Y/N responded bashfully, smiling from ear to ear.

An unsettling silence diffused through the car, the only significant sounds being the radio playing softly in the background and the occasional bump in the road. The two, sat close to one another, felt so far away, as the cavernous quiet settled over them.

With a clearing of his throat, Jimmy spoke up, “Did you know that this is the first piece of vintage clothing I ever bought for myself?” he asked, showing off the navy blue military jacket he was wearing, adorned with several ornate gold buttons.

Y/N turned her head to look at his jacket with a grin, “That?” she answered, trying to sound serious in an attempt to tease him.

Jimmy frowned. “Yeah, you don’t like it?” he asked, slight panic bleeding into his voice at her teasing.

“Did you get it at the Embassy or something, to go off to war? Are you assuming the position of a Revolutionary War general, because I’m afraid you’re in the wrong country. And century.” Y/N said, a smile creeping past her lips as she failed to contain some of her laughter.

Jimmy huffed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, it has a lot of buttons,” he admitted defensively.

“Yes it does,” Y/N chuckled. Then after a few moments of silence, she concurred reluctantly, “I like your jacket,” she said with a smirk.

“I knew it, I knew you did!” Jimmy laughed triumphantly, “It’s so cool, right?”

“It is pretty cool, I admit.”

“There’s also a bunch of pockets, so you can fit all sorts of bits and bops in there too. You wouldn’t even know,” Jimmy said with a wink.

“I can only imagine what you keep in those pockets,” Y/N grinned mischievously.

Jimmy’s jaw dropped in feigned shock. “What a naughty mind you have, Miss Y/N! How can you assume such a thing about me?”

“I’ve heard a few whispers about you and Jackie in my day,” Y/N giggled, “things I wish to not get into at this particular moment in time.”

“What did you hear? Who told you?” Jimmy said, an air of panic in his voice as he straightened in his seat.

“I can’t tell you that!”

“It was Jeff who told you, wasn’t it? The bastard.” Jimmy scowled, turning away from her to run his fingers through his hair. The slight tremor that rushed through them made the young woman smile. He was nervous.

“I said I can’t tell you! That’s for only me to know,” Y/N giggled.

Jimmy paused for a second, contemplating his next sentence before piping up, “Well, I should say that Jackie and I broke up actually,” he said quietly, his panic now overcome with sadness.

Y/N frowned, feeling bad for her friend. “Oh Jimmy, I’m so sorry. I can only imagine how difficult it is for you right now.” She draped her arm on Jimmy’s shoulder, hoping her physical touch would comfort him in any way. Jimmy leans into her touch, a sad smile settling on his lips.

“Thank you, love.” he nodded.

“When did it happen, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“A few days ago,” Jimmy continued, “I’m actually in the same boat as you.”

Y/N cocked her head in confusion. “In what sense?”

“Jackie was married the whole time, and I had no idea,” Jimmy replied solemnly.

“Oh my gosh, that’s awful!” Y/N said, “I can’t believe she would do that to you. You don’t deserve that.”

“I guess we were both someone else’s second choice.”

Y/N’s lips downturned into a frown, “Yeah…” she trailed off, “it’s the worst feeling in the world.”

You’ll never be my second choice, Y/N thought, I’ll always choose you, Jimmy.

“I might have a temporary remedy, though,” Y/N quipped as she opened her purse to retrieve the biscuits she had packed for Jimmy. “I baked these earlier, and Lillian said that you might enjoy them.”

Jimmy smiled as she handed him the bag. “Thank you for this, I really appreciate it, love.” As little as the words were, there was a tone of genuine appreciation in his voice. He really must have been going through a dark time. If there was a way she could help, no matter how small, Y/N would take that chance.

“You’re welcome. A baked good always makes me feel better, so I hope it does the same for you.”

Jimmy smiled down at her, his heart warming at her unbelievably kind gesture. Before he could say anything else, though, the driver had pulled up to the book shop; flicking hazard lights on so the two could get out right in front. They thanked the driver and walked into the store in tanduum, arms linked.

“What were you thinking about getting?” Y/N whispered as the smell of aged paper and freshly-cut wood greeted them.

Jimmy gave her a look that screamed did you really have to ask?

“Oh, okay,” She says, drawing out the first word with a subtle laughter in her voice. “Nevermind, stupid question.” Crowley manuscripts and textbooks. She knew that. She cursed herself for not thinking before she asked.

“You’re not stupid, don’t say that,” Jimmy said gently as he rubbed her arm soothingly, walking with her deep into the shelves and stacks of books. They were so close, her physical proximity and presence taunted him, and her scent dizzied him.

Their eyes scoured through the various titles, seeing if anything caught their interests. Y/N saw the trademark bright orange spine of The Catcher in the Rye, and quickly pulled it out. She never had the chance to read it whilst at school, but it was on her mental reading list.

Jimmy watched her intently as she read the synopsis on the back cover, her irises twinkling in the golden light that shone through the store. Her lips, her beautiful lips that he dreamed about kissing one day, were pressed together in concentration. She must have just put some lip balm on, because even they were twinkling. They looked like little pillows, so soft and supple and warm…

Y/N’s face now looked at the shelf once again before glancing at Jimmy with a grin. He prayed that she didn’t see him admiring her. Jimmy simply smiled back as if nothing had happened.

“The Catcher in the Rye, I see,” he initiated.

“Yep. I never got to read it in school, and it’s on my little mental reading list. I heard it was really good,” Y/N shrugged.

“What else is on your mental reading list?” Jimmy asked, “I can help you look for those, too.”

“Hmmm,” she thought aloud, “Marjorie Morningstar by Herman Wouk, Middlemarch by George Eliot, and Summer Crossing by Truman Capote. I also want to get The Fantastic Mr. Fox by Roald Dahl for Lillian. I loved it when I was little.”

“You’re a woman of good taste,” Jimmy grinned, feeling himself falling for her even harder. He had thought it impossible, yet he was obviously proven wrong by the feeling of contentment that settled over him whenever he so much as looked at her.

“Thanks,” she said, blushing as she sheepishly chuckled at the compliment.

The two slowly walked through the aisles trying to find the titles Y/N had mentioned. Jimmy found Marjorie Morningstar and Summer Crossing, and Y/N loved the way his face lit up when he finally found what he had been looking for. Y/N was able to find Middlemarch and The Fantastic Mr. Fox herself, as Jimmy practically drooled upon sight of her when she wasn’t looking. His personal thesis of Y/N being an angel had been proven correct many times that day, but these rather intimate circumstances really pushed it (and himself) over the edge.

Crushes are so foolish, he thought, why am I acting like this?!

~~~~~~~~

Jimmy invited Y/N to go to his Pangbourne boathouse for some tea after their shopping excursion, for a chance to talk in a more private setting and scan through their purchases. He showed her around his house, since it was the first time she had been there since they had met; it was a Edwardian-Pre-Raphaelite hybrid dream, and Y/N found herself amazed with every nook and cranny.

“Next summer, you’ll have to come up so I can take you out on the boat,” Jimmy said as he showed her his boat and the view from the dock.

“That would be so fun,” Y/N smiled, “how often do you take it out?”

“Not too often, unfortunately, with all the travel and studio time.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. I’m sure that will pick even more now that the Yardbirds will be traveling more.”

“Yes, you’re definitely right. But I’ll make time next summer for that boatride,” he grinned as he led Y/N back into the house and into the living room. She pursed her lips to hold back a smile full of gratitude, but to no avail.

His housekeeper must have just put a tray of tea and biscuits on the coffee table, because it was still steaming.

The two sat opposite of one another, taking things off the tray as they pleased, silence hanging in the air. Once they were situated, Y/N daintily crossed her legs with a smile as she held the cup on top of her clothed thigh.

What a sophisticated lady Y/N is, Jimmy thought as he looked at her, I wonder what she would be like in a more intimate setting…

Shaking the dirty thought from his mind, he rambled, “So I’ve been thinking about something...the other guys in the band know about it, and they agree with me...actually, it wasn’t my idea, it was Jeff’s…”

It wasn’t Jeff’s idea. He lied.

It was Jimmy’s idea.

“Oh! What is it?” Y/N asked as she tilted her head in confusion, “It sounds bad, should I be scared?” she ended with a giggle.

“Oh no! Of course not. You see, there’s so much to say, and not a lot of time to say it, so I have to go big.”

Oh my God, Y/N thought, what if he asks me out? Jesus Christ. I hope he does. But he probably won’t. He doesn’t like me. What can this mean? Jimmy, you’re killing me! However, she sat with an expectant look on her face, trying to accurately anticipate the information.

“I was wondering...if um, if you—Oh, Christ, I’m horrible at this,” he chuckled embarrassedly with a shake of his head, a pink flush dusting his cheeks.

Oh fuck, he’s gonna do it! Y/N thought excitedly.

“Oh gosh, don’t be afraid! It’s just me! Really, what’s the worst I can say?” Y/N joked, hoping to ease his obvious nerves.

But it’s not just you, Jimmy thought, you’re so pretty and nice and smart and funny...you don’t know half of the things you do to me…

“Well, I suppose you’re right,” he said, humouring her, “The Yardbirds are leaving to go to America within the next few weeks for the Dick Clark tour, and I—I mean, uh, we, would love it if you joined us.”

Y/N’s breath rushes past her lips with a surprised, almost unbelieving gasp. They wanted her to go on tour with them?! She again had to fight the stupidly giddy smile that would find its way on her lips.

“I would love to! That is so generous of you, thank you so much! I feel like I’d cramp your style though...I wouldn’t want you lot to lose women because of me,” she laughed.

“Most of those birds are nuts anyway,” Jimmy laughed with her, “They’re too caught up in themselves to notice the other people around them. Honestly, in theory, you’d probably attract more women to us.”

“I’m that bad, huh?” Y/N smirked.

Jimmy’s face became even paler than it already was. He didn’t mean that at all.

“Oh no! That’s not what I meant at all! Sincerest apologies, Y/N, I feel terrible. You’re so beaut—”

“I’m kidding, it’s okay,” she cut him off with a lighthearted chuckle, “I know where you’re coming from.”

“Okay, good,” he sighed, relieved. Y/N smiled before an awkward silence settled over the gorgeous tea room.

“So when is this tour happening?” she asked.

“End of October.”

“Wait, shit...I’m in university right now…”

“Oh, you’re right, fuck…” Jimmy muttered, his lips pursed in a pensive line, until he almost jumped out of his seat with excitement, “Wait! I have the perfect excuse for you.”

“Really? What did you have in mind?”

Jimmy smirked. “What if...you said you were participating in a study abroad-internship-sort of program for the fall semester?”

“I’m listening,” she said with a light giggle.

“Say that ‘it’s an opportunity to explore the depths of the cultural renaissance that is the British blues scene, which has indefinitely flourished over the past few years, as well as utilizing communication and leadership skills in a practical environment.’”

Y/N raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, that’s good,” she nodded her head, “that’s really good. I love that.”

“Then all you need is for myself and Simon Napier-Bell to sign off on it, as well as your dean, and you’re good to go.”

“That’s genius, Jimmy!”

“Why, thank you Miss Y/N,” he said with a joking courtly bow.

~~~~~~~~

Y/N, with much pushback from the dean at her university, was able to acquire course credit for going on tour with the Yardbirds. Simon Napier-Bell, as well as other members of the Yardbirds administration, had to come into the dean’s office to fight in Y/N’s favour. All she had to do was take photographs and write a paper on it for the end of the semester.

Not too bad.

The week preceding the beginning of the tour, Y/N was so full of nervous excitement that she could barely sleep. By the time her brother dropped her off at Heathrow airport, people had taken notice of the dark circles that hung around her tired eyes.

“Y/N, you look like hell,” Jeff exclaimed as Y/N got out of the passenger seat of Tommy’s car.

“Thanks,” she deadpanned as she shut the car door, walking to the back to grab her luggage.

“My God, you have to pull yourself together,” he added as he walked with Y/N, “you look like a raccoon.”

“He doesn’t mean that,” Chris called hopefully.

“Well, I’ll sleep enough when I’m dead,” Y/N smiled as she walked over to the group at the sidewalk with her suitcase, “and I guess you’ll have to play ‘Rocky Raccoon’ to serenade me then.”

“If Y/N did, in fact, have to ‘pull herself together,’ she wouldn’t be wearing a floral dress and a jumper to an airport,” Jim said.

“Thank you Jim,” Y/N smiled, “but I do look like hell though. He’s not wrong. I’m really tired.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Why’s that?”

“I didn’t sleep this entire week,” she chuckled, “My excitement for this day got the better of me.”

“Why don’t you take a nap on the plane then, love?” Jimmy asked, “You can get sick from lack of sleep, and we can’t have you sick when we’re abroad.”

“I brought my melatonin just for sleeping on the plane,” she smiled, “and I just took a shower too, so I’m ready to go to bed.”

“Lads, we have to go now. The security line is already awful,” Simon called as he rallied the boys and Y/N together to enter the airport.

Everyone obliged, groggily entering the airport as the road crew pushed heavy baggage carts of encased instruments, monitors, and other electronics behind them. The security line was dreadfully long, but they made it through and boarded the plane with little time to spare.

As Y/N was walking on the tarmac to board the plane, Jimmy caught up to her.

“Where are you sitting? What does your boarding pass say?” he asked, out of breath from running.

“I’m in 10C,” she laughed at his disheveled state, “what about you?”

“10B.”

“Oh, looks like we’re sitting together then,” Y/N smiled.

The two entered the plane and once they got to their seats, Jimmy realized that he had the window seat.

“Uh, Y/N?” he asked, shifting his weight between his feet anxiously.

“Mmhmm?”

“Do you mind if we switch seats and you take the window seat?” he inquired, a sheepish countenance flooding his face.

“Oh no, I don’t mind at all,” she smiled as she sat down in Jimmy’s original seat, “Why do you ask? I think the window seat is so cool.”

“You see, I’m afraid of heights,” he explained as he sat down in the aisle seat, “not to be dramatic, but all the air travel has me fearing for my life.”

“Oh, I see. That’s valid,” she understood, “Planes can be uncertain.”

The two engaged in quiet conversation before the plane engine started with a roar, and the aircraft started to make its way down the runway. Once the speed accelerated and the wheels rumbled, a telltale sign that the plane would be leaving the ground any minute, Y/N noticed how Jimmy’s leg started bobbing up and down uncontrollably.

Hoping to sooth his worries, she intertwined her fingers with his as the plane ascended, sending him a gentle, comforting grin. Jimmy squeezed her hand to reassure her that what she was doing was helping. His spirits were automatically lifted, and his entire body felt bubbly as heat invaded his cheeks.

About a half hour into the flight, Y/N’s eyes were starting to droop, but she was desperately trying to fight off the sleep. She had to stay awake and not look stupid sleeping in front of Jimmy.

Jimmy took notice of her drowsiness, seeing her lightly dozing against the window, as he put a fragile hand on her shoulder. The girl woke up with a deep inhale, lightly grinning at him as if she weren’t just asleep.  

“Y/N love, why don’t you take a melatonin now and try to get some sleep?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she admitted self-consciously, “I have to give into it now.”

She took the melatonin with a few sips of the water one of the stewardesses had given to her.

“Put your head on my shoulder so you don’t wake up with a sore neck from the window,” Jimmy coaxed gently.

“Thank you,” she said with a stretch, placing her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes, “‘night.”

“Sweet dreams,” he laughed.

Next to Jimmy, the soft motion of the plane lulls Y/N closer and closer to sleep. Head on his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his aftershave, and something that was so uniquely him, Y/N slept the best she had in weeks.

————

Taglist: @blood-on-blood @reincarnated70sbaby @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmys-zeppelin

#that's the way #jimmy page #led zeppelin #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

[adhd-disaster-willie]

March 16th

ok so maybe I hyperfixated on writing this and maybe it's 2:30 am but like, whatever.

summary: "Bobby used to like birthdays. But now birthdays taste less of spring and vanilla and more of salty tears and an aching emptiness in his chest"

word count: 1,388

warnings: allusions to death (take a wild guess as to whose)

---

Bobby was born on a March evening that was just too cold to be so close to spring. He was never too full of energy, preferred to curl up in the corner with a poetry book thicker than the fluffy vanilla cake his grandma would make for his birthday every year. He’d stand on his tip toes to see the top of the counter, sneaking bits of half mixed cake batter and listening intently as his grandma explained the baking process in words that were too big for him to comprehend. But the cake always tasted like spring evenings and lemon frosting and laughter as Luke tackled him to the ground in what he called the “birthday hug” that was probably closer to a wrestling match. The night always smelled of wrapping paper and Reggie’s weird lotion and the oatmeal raisin cookies Alex’s mother always insist he bring but nobody would eat. Birthday’s were good, Bobby liked birthdays.

“Robert, your friends are here!” His gran peeked into Bobby’s room with a crinkly smile and a flour-dusted apron; the faded yellow one she never seemed to take off.

Bobby didn’t even have time to shut his book before Luke came bounding into his room, shrieking something that sounded like “you’re a teenager, dude!” but could’ve been just about anything else, as it was said with his face buried in Bobby’s t-shirt. Alex came trailing in after him, scowling at the plate of cookies in his hands while Reggie bounced up beside him, hastily wrapped gift clutched to his chest.

“My mom put extra raisins in this year,” Alex grumbled apologetically.

Reggie peeked over his shoulder at the platter and wrinkled his nose. “Dude, I think she’s trying to poison us.”

“Wouldn’t put it past her,” Bobby quipped, shoving Luke off of him and hopping up. His gran swatted him over the head sternly but Alex only shrugged, pointedly not defending his mother. Mrs. Mercer was utterly terrifying for her stature, Alex got his height from his dad, but his mom was probably comparable to a bolt of lightning.

Like always, the boys were ushered out to the backyard with promises that cake would be ready by 5 and dinner by 6. Bobby got to eat dessert first on his birthday only, though he’d certainly tried changing that rule a number of times.

There was a slightly wobbly treehouse wedged in between the branches of the tree in Bobby’s backyard, it’d been built the previous summer, mostly by Alex and Reggie while he and Luke all but drowned each other in the above ground pool tucked into the corner of the yard. But he did make the door, so he thinks he deserves some credit

Reggie bounded up the swinging ladder, yelping when he almost lost his footing. He stuck his head out the window, pouting like a wounded puppy until the others came tumbling in after him in a tangle of limbs and shouts of “you did not win, you’re slower than Millie’s turtle” and “Did too! Right Lexi?” Alex informed them that his sister’s turtle was actually faster than the both of them and that he won, which couldn’t really be argued considering Alex had always been the fastest runner.

Bobby’s 13th birthday was dusted with the beginnings of spring and a certain feeling of home. Reggie gave him that one stuffed penguin he’d been eyeing for weeks, stumbling over his apologies of “sorry it’s so small, my parents forgot to take me shop-” Bobby had thrown an arm around his shoulder, ruffling his hair and telling him to shut up because the gift was perfect.

Alex handed him a neatly wrapped box complete with a bright red bow; a stack of books and the tattered t shirt Bobby kept stealing from him. Luke emptied his pockets to reveal about 50 different guitar picks and a leather-bound journal already full of movie ticket stubs and hurriedly written poems that Bobby would probably never be able to decipher.

Birthdays were good. Birthdays were sitting in the tree house past dark despite it being a school night. Birthdays were Reggie forcing him to wear a pointy party hat, and Luke smearing frosting across his face well aware it’d end in disaster, and Alex making up a horrendous rendition of the happy birthday song and proceeding to sing it like he’d just written a masterpiece akin to Bohemian Rhapsody. Bobby liked birthdays. For a while.

---

The treehouse wilted the summer before junior year, boards worn from years of harsh sunshine and thunderstorms. Bobby’s 17th birthday wasn’t… it wasn’t bad per se; but it’s bittersweet. It’s bittersweet in the way Luke scratches his neck apologetically and says that he couldn’t scrounge up enough money for a gift, like that’s what matters. It doesn’t. It’s bittersweet because Reggie, Luke, and Alex didn’t have to be driven to Bobby’s house. They woke up tangled together on the flimsy mattress in the loft and spent the morning practicing a bit too passionately with a few too many tears.

Bobby’s 17th birthday tasted of tight hugs and mint ice cream that dripped down his hands, held out to the sky because Luke kept threatening to lick them. It smelled of old pennies and the garbage cans Alex reluctantly used as drums as they played out on the pier in hopes to earn some petty cash.

“I bet we’ll be living in a mansion on your 18th birthday,” Reggie said, swinging his legs and splashing at the water. They were sitting on the edge of the pier, instruments off to the side and hands sticky with ice cream.

“If the Orpheum works out, we will,” Alex replied with a grin, bumping his shoulders with Bobby’s.

Bobby tilted his head in consideration. “Maybe we’ll get a giant house up in Malibu.”

“It’s not about the money,” Luke grumbled. Although considering the whole living in Bobby’s garage thing, Bobby thinks Luke should start thinking about the money.

“You’re absolutely right.” Alex sighed dramatically. “It’s about the music.” He clutched Luke’s shoulder and nodded sarcastically.

“The connections,” Bobby chimed in with a woeful nod. “The audience.”

Luke kicked his ankle and Bobby snickered. “No kicking the birthday boy,” he cried with mock offense.

“Kicking the birthday boy is like stealing candy from a baby,” Reggie said mournfully.

“That’s not how that… okay.” Alex exhaled in defeat, something Bobby calls his ‘Reggie sigh.’

They stayed out on the pier until the sun tucked itself behind the ocean and they tossed their instruments over their shoulders, walking back to the studio and singing happy birthday to the sparkling sky, steps bouncier than they had been in the morning. So, Bobby’s 17th birthday was bittersweet with the taste of music and hope and a desperate beginning.

---

Bobby spends his 18th birthday alone, staring down at the rug and hugging his own shoulders, desperately wishing he didn’t have to, because they were always so affectionate so he shouldn’t have to hold himself.

The studio is far too cold for and much too empty. A sharp breeze whistles through the crack in the door, brushing at the pages of Lukes still-open songwriting book. Bobby reaches to smooth them out, because maybe if he leaves everything how it’d been that night 7 months ago, he can pretend they’re just inside chattering over his gran’s spaghetti and debating lyrics. And he’ll go inside and join them and Luke will toss an arm over his shoulder and Alex will remind him to drink some water, he probably hasn’t today, and Reggie will tell him that “your grandma is so much cooler than you, Bobbers.”

But the lights are shut off and his dinner is cold and untouched and he can’t bring himself to even light the candle on the thick slice of cake on the table. Because he can close his eyes and wish with his entire soul but nothing will bring them back.

Bobby used to like birthdays. But now birthdays taste less of spring and vanilla and more of salty tears and an aching emptiness in his chest. He falls asleep on Luke’s couch, practically swimming in Alex’s blue sweatshirt, the shabby stuffed penguin clutched to his chest like a lifeline. He falls asleep to a quiet studio and birthday that feels like numbness and longing.

---

@sunset-bobby@azzieisthebestcat

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #bobby wilson #bobby jatp #trevor wilson #alex mercer #luke patterson #reggie peters #sunset curve #willow writes #jatp fic

[kpoptrashlord-007]

Flour Cheeks;; YHS

Word Count;; 1.6k

Genre;; Fluff Overload!

Pairing;; Hongseok x Reader

Summary;;

While you understand that some mornings you'll wake up alone, your curiosity does get the better of you when you realise your boyfriend has chosen to leave the comfort of your shared bed despite not needing to. It's warm, fluffy, and soft and filled with the possibilities of additional dreaming and yet you soon find yourself also being drawn away from its comforts.

Request;;

Hiii! Can I please request something fluffy with Pentagon's Hongseok? Maybe cooking him and y/n cooking and being all cute? Thank you!! <333​

Warnings;;

None!

Notes;;

I remember him cooking well in one of his lives so I went to look for it and found the waffle incident instead ahsjjdkfkg. Also sorry I took longer than I said I would! Our parents stopped by while we were doing our laundry and I didn't have time to write like I thought I would. Hope you enjoy this all the same and...

Happy late birthday to our Honk Honk! ♡

My Masterlist

   Sunlight streamed in through the curtain's gap to cover the duvet in splashes of yellow and white. It brightened the room, forcing you to squint while you checked your phone's notifications. With a huff, you tossed the device back onto the bedside table and closed your eyes once more.

   It was getting late. The sun was high in the sky as if to taunt you for your laziness and the room warmed beneath its abundant rays. You soon found yourself kicking the bedding clear off the mattress as you flipped over and away from the window.

   Due to the lack of your boyfriend's firm chest to stop you from invading his side of the bed, your initial roll was followed by another, more exaggerated flop. Spreading your limbs with a strained sigh, you once again tried opening your eyes. The room was still bright but you pushed through the searing discomfort to search for Hongseok.

   Though the bathroom door was only propped open by a sliver, the lack of light and movement was enough for you to write it off as empty. The bedroom itself provided a similar scene: devoid of Hongseok but with small clues as to his whereabouts. His house shoes were moved but his phone was still on the charger. The dresser hadn't closed all the way, catching on one of his shirts. He had been in a rush and yet he hadn't dressed to go out, having grabbed clothes from the casual section of his wardrobe.

   You chuckled and shook your head. Whatever had been on his mind wasn't important enough to wake you up and you were grateful for the additional rest. Stretching once again, you pushed the remainder of the bedding off with a yawn before curling up into a ball.

   His side of the bed smelled like him (surprise, surprise) and you enjoyed the mornings when you could sleep in after he left almost as much as the mornings you woke up beside him. You pushed your face into his pillow and sighed. His body wash and shampoo flooded your senses. It was comforting and it made you feel safe because he made you feel safe.

   You inhaled breath by breath, drifting off to sleep until the soothing scent of Hongseok dissipated and was replaced by the strong, undesirable scent of burning. Your eyes snapped open a step slower than your body that had already slid out of bed. Without stopping to grab your shoes or to throw on pants, you fumbled out of your shared bedroom.

   The apartment wasn't huge and it didn't take long for your legs that were in pursuit of the smoke to stumble into the kitchen. Inside you took note of your handsome boyfriend wearing that ridiculous apron you had bought him as a gag gift for his last birthday. Flour graced his tanned cheeks and you fought back a laugh, biting your lip to keep yourself silent. His expression was both serious and exasperated while he observed the steady pillar of smoke escaping the miniature waffle maker.

   "If you make it too obvious, the insurance won't pay out," you teased. His eyes latched onto your form, lingering on your bare thighs that peeked out from beneath his oversized shirt. A grin formed on his lips as he beckoned you to his side. You were quick to oblige. "So what's up? Making breakfast?"

   "Good morning beautiful. I can't answer any questions until I have a kiss." He tapped his cheek twice. Powder still marked them. You leaned around him to grab a kitchen towel and you found it through memory rather than sight, your gaze focused and locked onto his. Though he tapped his foot in impatience, he was smiling and mischief shone in his eyes.

   The cloth wasn't the softest material so you were cautious of how much pressure you exerted on his soft skin. It wasn't until you pulled away to admire your handiwork that you noticed the towel (and most of the surfaces nearby) was also covered in flour and your attempt to wipe away the powder had only created a bigger smudge. Your whole body trembled with the bottled-up laughter brewing deep in your chest. "What? What's so funny?"

   "You're covered in flour, baby." You managed to force the words out before you let loose and your laugh filled every corner of the room. Hongseok frowned and turned away from you, focusing his attention back on the waffle maker. At least it was no longer smoking. Next to the appliance was a plate of… something you couldn't quite identify. "And what the hell is that?"

   "What? That? You can't tell? It's clearly a waffle. And here I thought you were cultured," he said, his voice strained as he tried to pry the appliance open. Upon noticing the secured latch, you nudged him aside and popped the lock before flipping the lid open. Out of instinct his arms wrapped around your waist and yanked you back away from the billow of steam that rushed upward out of the small machine.

   "What's the point of using the waffle maker if it doesn't make waffles?" He whined, resting his head on your shoulder.

   "Did it make that"—distaste crossed your face as you gestured toward the plate of goop—"mess too?"

   "No, I tried… it doesn't matter. The last resort is the other waffle maker."

   "Or maybe we should stop now while we're only at two losses?"

   "I'm a man who never gives up, baby. You know this."

   Hongseok flashed you a grin, his eyes sparkling with determination as he cleared the counter. While his attention was on whipping up another batch of mixture, you decided to clean up his prior attempts. You scraped off the goo from the plate and ran it under hot water while you disconnected the miniature waffle maker and waited for it to cool down enough to soak the inner dish. The dishes stacked up in the sink and the small tower of plastic threatened to collapse like a Jenga tower when you added the last powder bowl Hongseok had discarded to the top.

   "So what's the special occasion?"

   "Are you kidding or do you owe me a massage?"

   A massage? That could only mean-

   Shoot!

   "I was just kid-"

   "Looks like my honey bunny owes me a massage! What a great start to our anniversary!"

   "But I didn't forget!"

   "Nah uh. I said the same thing last year, I was in the same boat, and you didn't go easy on me so I don't think I'll go easy on you, either."

   "Hongseokkie," you pouted, jutting out your lips as you pulled on his arm. Your mind wandered when he flexed under your grasp, his muscles toned and strong. His efforts at the gym never went unnoticed. He continued his attempt to mix the blueberries and bananas into batter, oblivious to how your gaze devoured him. "I didn't forget."

   "If I say I believe you, will you give me a massage anyway?"

   "Maybe."

   "Well I don't believe you."

   You scoffed, a playful smile pulling at the corners of your mouth, "Alright, alright. Fine, I forgot, and you'll get your massage as owed. Now will you please abandon this futile waffle mission? We can just have our usual instead. Nothing beats healthy, anyway."

   "Abandon as in give up? Who do you think I am? I'm going to make you the best damn waffles, just you watch."

   "Right, right. Of course. And I'll try not to starve in the meantime."

   He ignored your comment and focused on pouring the batter into the second waffle maker. This one was bigger, at least in comparison to the miniature maker. The miniature (theoretically) baked bite-sized waffles with little snowflakes on them. This regular-sized and completely average waffle maker had no special gimmick. It was straight-forward and easy to use.

   Except that it wasn't.

   Once Hongseok's pride diminished just enough to summon you back into the kitchen, you found yourself also struggling to make a single waffle that could pass as a waffle. None of your creations were recognisable as a breakfast treat. Some weren't even recognisable as food. Several plates of "waffles" had built up, each featuring varying degrees of baked all the way from gooey to charred. Your solo attempts hadn't fared any better.

   "Can we give up yet?"

   "No." He grabbed a piece of overcooked waffle from the maker and frowned. Half of the batter was close to burning while the other half was still liquid. With great caution, he nibbled on it. The regret was immediate. He thrusted it in your direction. "Try this."

   "Gross," you said, pretending to gag. He took the opportunity to shove the waffle piece into your mouth. You swatted him away seconds too late. He laughed, dodging your flailing hits. Though crunchy and quite dry, the waffle wasn't actually that bad. It could be worse, you thought, eyeing the discarded plates. Much worse.

   "So…"

   "So…" you echoed. When he didn't continue, you nudged his slumped shoulder. His expression screamed disappointment upon looking at the numerous attempts which then morphed into irritation as he glared at the appliance and its lustrous shine. Despite the abundance of use it had undergone over the last few hours, it looked brand new and somehow clean. "While this has been quite the adventure, should we settle down with some oatmeal and relax?"

   "You want to give up?"

   "On the waffles? Yes. I'd rather cuddle with you than fight with this clearly defective waffle maker."

   "Waffle makers," he empathised, glaring over at the abandoned miniature version.

   "If nothing else, we've created a memory that will last a lifetime and I can't think of a better gift to receive on our very special day."

   "I can think of something." You knew by his cheeky grin just what he planned to do and before he even raised his finger, you began to lean into his space. He pointed at his cheek all the same and awaited your kiss. Once again you laughed at his cute antics but this time you followed it up with a kiss.

#yang hongseok #hongseok x reader #pentagon x reader #kpop x reader #pentagon #kpop #yang hongseok x reader #kpop fluff #pentagon fluff #hongseok fluff #reader insert #pentagon fanfic #kpop fanfic #hongseok fanfic #kpop pentagon #kpoptrashlord-007 #soft hours #pentagon soft hours #kpop soft hours

[soliavenne]

Just Sand Sibling Things + Shinki: How do they deal with cooking?

Hi! I have been thinking of having Just Sand Sibling Things (+ Shinki now and then) as a series of works. :) I guess this is the first entry haha.

Hope you like it! <3

--

Excellent cook, obviously the most versatile out of the four. Appetizer, main entrée, snacks and dessert, you name it. Not very adventurous when it comes to recipes, but she’s well-rounded enough  with the basics to tweak an ingredient or a two from the book if she knows she’ll be able to improve the taste.

Knows that she’s great at what she does, and she’s damn proud of it.

Very confident, but can actually be secretly conscious of what she serves, especially when it’s her first time cooking the specific food. She would rather start over again than serve something that doesn’t suit her standards.

Tries her best to mind her own business while eating but is stealthily inspecting her brothers, or her husband and son’s facial expression as they eat her food.

Very organized, every ingredient is in each separate plates. Not the type to leave a pile of dirty plates on the sink and wash it all at once by the end of cooking. She will wash some of them now and then if she could leave the cooking process alone on itself.

Praise her damn food, praise her cooking skills. She might not look like it but she’s a big, big sucker for appreciation. If you have been generous for the past few days with compliments, she’ll try her best to free up her schedule and proceed to serve a damn feast over the table.

If ever she ends up serving something that doesn’t taste good, she would understand a very faint grimace or two on your face. But that’s all, don’t bother telling her about it if she doesn’t ask you about it. She knows what’s wrong already and she’s already beating up herself about it.

Mostly cooks foods that are on the healthier spectrum, but would flat out bake herself her own pizza and brownies at 12 AM.

Would try to hide her midnight snacks as much as possible, but if she gets caught, she would huff and act all annoyed but is secretly happy to share it. She just likes riling people up a bit, but she’s very sweet and generous.

What reads above cannot be applied if she’s on her period or she had a fight with Shikamaru, you better fuck off and leave her alone.

--

He’s not that much keen to cooking, but this man is not dumb. Knows at least the very, very basic fundamentals around the kitchen.

It’s those common mistakes that usually happens if someone’s just starting to venture out on cooking. A little too much salt, a little heavy on the pepper, the meat is tad bit raw while the crust is already burned. Those kind of technical mishaps. He would not be unbelievably awful at it.  

Tries his best to listen to Temari’s advices on cooking, but he ends up overthinking it. He’s best off learning on his own and figuring out for himself what went wrong.

Skilled at cooking instant foods and junk foods. Knows damn well how to elevate them. The type of food he ends up cooking are more on the indulgent side, mostly savory type of foods. Hamburgers, meat pizza, steak, and ribs, you name it.

Has been secretly saving up to buy his own pellet grill and personalize it.

Does not know exactly how to cook healthy-family based foods like vegetable stew or chicken soup or anything of the like. He either gets to eat it if Temari is cooking, or it’s a takeout.

Very messy cook. Spoons with unidentified sauces are everywhere, there’s even a plate on the living room that he’s not sure how it even got there.

Would probably wash it once a dirty pan had punched his face and Temari is screaming on the other end of the handle.

Don’t talk to him when he’s focusing, he’s going to get flustered about the whole thing.

Just as sensitive as Temari when it comes to feedback. He would laugh alongside a negative comment, but he won’t be cooking anything that isn’t instant food for the next whole week.

If you praise him so much he will end up being so worked up about it that he cooks the same thing tomorrow night. He would try so hard to hit the same note but he was overthinking it the whole time so it doesn’t end up as good.

A genuine praise could go such a long way for Kankuro. He might not look like it but he’s genuinely appreciative of it and finds it very encouraging.

--

Doesn’t necessarily hate cooking, but he just doesn’t know to pave his way around it.

Believes that cooking is a fundamental skill, but is still avoiding the opportunity to work on it. He had bought some cooking books and probably printed some recipes from Yahoo and allrecipes.com, but he’s secretly relieved whenever Kankuro asks if he wants something to eat from the store.

Very shy about asking for help, but if Temari or Kankuro does volunteer to teach him something, he would not refuse it.

Nearly passed out once because he has been letting his breakfast pass when Temari left for Konoha. Kankuro scolded him a bit, but ten minutes later they were already talking about sandwiches. When Gaara mentioned that he misses waking up to Temari cooking pancakes in their shared apartment, they surprisingly ended up having a genuinely-deep conversation about it; talking along the lines of how they really feel about their sister leaving Suna.

Kankuro told him that he’ll be letting him off easy but if he wants to be a much more effective Kazekage, he has to take care of himself. The epiphany had hit Gaara so hard he bought a new apron and a pan on his way home from work.

The first set of foods that he focused on was under the bracket of breakfast meals. A bowl of plain oatmeal and a little bit of sugar was okay, but it did get redundant and he swore to himself he’d throw the bowl out of the window if he had to make another one of it again for the 3rd week of that month.

Began to buy pancake box-mixes where all he had to worry about was adding eggs, water and oil. Once he had gotten the hang of it, he decided to follow a pancake recipe from scratch. He thinks it tastes better, but it wasn’t something he could do every day.

Thinks he had found his soulmate when he started making granola. He could prepare it in advance and stock it up. He finds it very convenient.

An understandable kind of messy, maybe a little smudge of batter on his cheek when he’s cooking pancakes. Dirty plates would be on a pile but he would arrange them by size and category before washing them all together after he ends up eating.

Takes cooking seriously that he even bought a hairnet. Kankuro caught him once wearing it and the ten-minute laugh he had out of watching his baby brother cook with a hairnet on just made Gaara opt to tie his hair instead.

Sometimes boils eggs at night in advance so that he could simply peel one in the morning for breakfast.  

All in all, he mostly cooks usual, literally off the recipe book breakfast meals. Most of them are healthy.

It would take a lot of time before you get him to serve you the food he made. He doesn’t like disappointing people and as stoic as he may be he would also be just as sensitive about it.

Began to develop the drive to cook better when he adopted Shinki. He remembers vividly how happy he was whenever Yashamaru brings him a bento, so he decides to take the effort to study bento making now and then whenever he’s not that busy.

When he saw a small, cute apron from the store, he found himself buying it to give to Shinki. He still hasn’t built up the courage to ask Shinki to have a cooking bonding with him though because he’s not that confident about his skills just yet.

--

A very responsible kid. Has the self-awareness that basics of cooking should be developed in order to survive independently no matter where you go. He even knows how to start fire from scratch.

The first thing he had ask Gaara regarding preparing food is how Gaara makes his coffee. Ever since he was able to replicate it, he sometimes even gets up earlier than his father so that he could prepare the warm beverage beforehand. He doesn’t drink coffee everyday, but with a craving now and then sometimes, he likes adding a splash of milk to it. He and Gaara both share the same preference when it comes to the level of sweetness.  

Not very adventurous when it comes to recipes. As long as it’s filling and easy to make, that will be his chosen route.

Has asked Gaara once about his special pancake mix, and he had been making it mostly everyday. The fluffy texture of it soon got a little tiring, so he started wondering what else he could eat for breakfast. Despite being very mature for his age, he’s still a kid who has the hint of wonder for foods that are still comfortable yet a little exciting now and then.

When Yodo took him and Araya once to a waffle stand on their way home from a mission, he started buying one almost everyday. He’s more of a savory-waffle kind of kid.

Gaara takes notice of this, and when Shinki woke up to a wafflemaker and printed waffle recipes on the kitchen counter one morning, he couldn’t help a very, very rare and genuine smile on his face.

He might not that be that much inclined to cooking, but on days where he’s not busy, he tries to read about it. His main drive about cooking is so that his father comes home to a much more healthier meal instead of having takeouts almost every night. He loves and respect his father that much, and he’s also health and fitness-conscious since he really does take his job as a shinobi very seriously.

The same as Temari in terms of cooking. Neatly organized, no dirty plates lying around the counter. Every ingredient is measured and calculated.

His face might not be anywhere near grinning but he’s actually happy whenever he dons the apron that Gaara bought him.

Doesn’t really care if you don’t like the food unless you’re his dad.

 --

#temari #kankuro #gaara #shinki #gaara of the desert

[bittybattybunny]

Chapter 1: The King’s Favorite

(As I said I had a new multi fic, but until I do a cover it won’t go on ao3, so for now enjoy! Second Chances and Angel Foodcake!)

He sighed as he worked on whipping the egg whites. He had another weird dream with that woman in it. The sad smile she wore made his chest ache. He gave a sigh as his brother stole an orange from the bowl on the counter.

“What’s with you?” Marcus asked as he started to peel the fruit. He shoved a slice in his mouth as Arulius set the bowl down and ruffled his hair.

“I had a weird dream---”

“Shocking.” Marcus’s tone was dry as he ate another orange slice, “Not Ru king of weird dreams. Isn’t that why you’re a writer?”

“Shut upppp.” Arulius sighed as he grabbed the other bowl and began to fold the whipped egg whites with the whipped cream, “Look I just. You try dreaming of the same woman night after night since you’re 16!”

“Nope. I don’t dream.” Marcus reminded him as he continued to eat, “maybe she’s your soul mate.”

“I doubt it. Considering I think shes my guard?” he frowned, “in the dream’s I’m married. I have kids. She’s just… she’s so sad.”

“Maybe circumstances kept your love unable to exist. If you find her when you aren’t hallucinating unconsciously flirt with her.” Marcus snickered as he finished his orange and threw the peel away, “Good luck with your sleeping beauty!” he grabbed his bag as he headed out, “oh and it’s your turn to do the dishes!”

“Fineee!” Arulius sighed as his brother left. He sighed and poured the batter into the pan. Undoing his apron he got to work on cleaning up.

“Kept it unable to exist…” he mused. He chuckled, there was no way.

------

As he held the boxed cake on the subway he felt something was off. His stomach was uneasy. It wasn’t his first time on public transport with a dessert he didn’t want ruined, and yet. He grimaced.

“Are you okay?”

He looked up and his breath caught in his throat. Long curly black hair held back with a blue ribbon, large eyes in two different colors (Black on the right side, bright blue on the other), mouth drawn in concern as a small fang stuck out, she furrowed her brow as she looked at him.

“Are you okay?” she asked again.

He gasped, “Um yeah! Sorry my stomach’s got butterflies!” he admitted nervously.

“Interview?” she asked with a small laugh, “you’re really pale so I was worried, maybe you should get off soon and rest before continuing.”

“No I’m just, going to my book club.” he laughed, “I promised to bring cake.”

“Oh? Which one?” she covered her mouth in shock, “you aren’t heading to Horizon Group are you?”

He blinked a few times, mouth twitching, “I am…”

She laughed, “My brother attends that! I was going to get his car keys!” She sat beside him and he felt his heart racing, “I’m Eclipse! Sena’s my elder brother!” she explained.

He gasped, “Ah! I can see it!” he realized as he looked at her, “you do look like him.”

“I know right? If people don’t know they tend to not notice but when they know its clear we’re related!” she laughed and looked at the cake, “Sweets, so you must be Arulius right?”

He felt his cheeks growing warm and nodded, “how did you?”

“My brother says you often bring snacks for meet ups! And you always get new cookbooks!” she giggled and he felt his face growing warmer. She touched her lips with a grin, “Actually he brought some of the cookies you made last week, the raisin oatmeal were really good~! I was sad I couldn’t try your chocolate chip ones though.” she gave a saddened sigh.

“Ah? I can make some…” he offered and she shook her head.

“I’m allergic to chocolate but the hospital trip was very tempting they smelt so good~!” she laughed.

“Ah.” he put a hand to his mouth, “White chocolate?” he asked. He knew it wasn’t a “true” chocolate.

She shook her head, “No, my allergy is a bit severe.” she gave a dejected sigh, “most white chocolate is processed in the same plants so…”

“What if I made it from scratch?” he asked with his head tilted, “Candy melts?” he wondered.

She turned red, “y-you don’t have to do that! I was just complimenting your baking!! It’s really good!”

He gave a soft smile, “well when we get to the meeting, want some of this?” he held the cake, “it’s a whipped cream cake! Kinda like angel food cake but it has whipped cream IN the cake.” he explained.

She gasped and covered her mouth, “That sounds good! Is that alright though? Isn’t it for the others?”

“Well I brought it to share, and I’m sure it’s fine, I always leave with leftovers.” he explained. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Something about the young woman was familiar to him (other than her being Sena’s sister. Something was there.) and something told him to be on good terms.

“If you want, I bake a lot, i can always send some stuff with your brother, or you can join teh club!” he grinned.

She turned bright red, “N-no I couldn’t! It’s fine! I-I don’t have time for it I need t-to finish my thesis!”

“Thesis?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

“Yeah! I’m doing a report on the fallen Solgarian kingdom!” she clapped.

Solgario? He blinked as that rang in his head. His dreams. He remembered that name.

“History major?” he asked as she nodded happily.

“I’m working on my Master’s! I want to curate a museum!” she admitted with mirth, “I love studying old things and I love the sotries of the last king!”

“Yeah? I can’t say I know much. Tell me?” He checked the stops, they had time.

“Oh where to begin!” she beamed, happily like a cocker spaniel, “King Luka Thatcher Law was the last king of the empire, he was married to Queen Vanessa Everfrost and they had a daughter together! Sadly tragedy struck. First the death of the king’s personal aide to poison, the death of the princess, and then the king himself withered away.” she sighed, “The queen was the last monarch but a war struck and she was unable to fend it so the kingdom fell.”

“That’s… that’s horrible…” Arulius tensed up. The butterflies were worse.

“There’s some theories the queen herself poisoned the guard, you see King Luka and the guard knew each other as children, and she was the daughter from the only ducal household---”

“A female guard?” Arulius’s chest hurt, “What was her name?”

“Amaris---”

He felt his chest pinch and his vision fogged.

“Ah!” Eclipse shouted as he slumped forward.

------

His head hurt. He jolted and sat up in bed. He looked around confused at the lavish space. He frowned. This wasn’t the hospital or subway. He covered his mouth in thought, long black hair falling over his shoulder. He blinked and looked at the curl, then his hands. He stared at the callouses that weren’t in their normal spots.

“What…?” he covered his mouth in shock at his voice. What happened?! He got up and whacked his head on the bedframe, before crumpling to the ground.

“Mmmmy looooord are you okay?” came a singsong tone.

His mouth moved on its own, “I’m fine Amaris.” he covered his mouth in shock.

“I’m coming in.” 

Before he could stop her the door swung open and the black-armored knight stepped in, her silver hair cropped short and fluffing around her face, large eyes of black and blue, scars on her cheeks. She gasped and ran over to help him up.

“My lord!” she fretted as she helped him stand and dusted him off, “Dear me why on earth are you on the floor?!” She looked up and paled. Her gloves were removed and she reached up to stroke his face.

He sniffled as the tears pooled and dripped. She was here. Alive. 

“Lu?” she asked softly, “Luka what’s wrong?”

“S-sorry just. Had a bad dream.” he muttered. She snorted and raised her hands, a soft light emitting off her hands.

“Pain pain go away leave Luka’s heart calm and pure~!” she sang happily. He felt a bit lighter and sighed as he rested his cheek in her hand.

“Such a competent Nightingale.” He chuckled. He took her hand in his as she laughed, giving him a sad smile that made his chest sting. The smile he always saw her wear in his dreams.

“Of course, I’m your head guard for a reason~!” she hummed, “Come on now, the queen has been crying all morning for you.” she sighed heavily, “Pregnant women are difficult to deal with. Or is it just Vanessa?” 

He shuddered. Vanessa. Luka. Amaris. His golden eyes grew wide.

----

He gasped as he sat up and winced. Eclipse held her hands cautiously near him, afraid to touch him.

“A-Aruli--” she squeaked when he wrapped his arms around her, tangling his fingers in his hair as he tried to stop crying. She whined but slowly wrapped her arms around him.

“Pain pain go away…” She mumbled and he felt a small breeze and a lightness in his chest. He pulled away and she wiped his eyes. “You okay?” she asked with worry.

“Just… Sorry, I’ve had weird dreams lately… was that..magic?”

She turned red and shook her head, “I-it’s just an old wives tale you know---” her eyes were spinning and she wouldn’t meet his gaze. He chuckled.

“Sure, okay. Say I believed that.” 

She stared at him confused as he simply smiled. 

He hated to admit it, but maybe his brother was right on something.

“Magic’s neat.” He watched her turn red and look away ashamed.

“Um… are you two done?” the train conductor asked as he scratched his head. Tired violet eyes looking at the two.

“I’m fine! I just didn’t sleep well it seems!” Arulius lied. He moved to stand and wobbled. Eclipse supported his side and he tried to get his stomach to behave. He gasped, “nooo my cake.” he saw the box on the floor and reached for it. He sighed seeing it ruined.

“What stop is this?” He asked.

“You should go to a hospital I think.” Eclipse fretted as he headed towards the door while holding her hand.

“No i’m fine really! I just have had issues sleeping!” he explained, “so I have weird dreams, it just so happened the name you mentioned reminded me of them so I passed out.”

She frowned and reached to put a hand on his forehead. He hadn’t noticed before but her body spray had a slight pine smell to it, pine and honey. Lavender too?

“You’re a little warm. Let’s go to the bookstore, I’ll get Sena’s keys and drive you to the hospital.” she insisted. “I don’t want you passing out like the train. To think you’re feeble bodied.” she sighed.

“Should a witch joke about that?” he teased as she turned red.

“I-it wasn’t magic! Honest to goodness! I’m not! I’m not!” she fretted as he snickered.

“What’s your familiar?” he asked as she tried to hide her face, “why are you so embarrassed?”

“W-Why you ask! You keep instigating I’m a w-witch do you know how they are seen?! Wannabes who think they can be hot shit just cuz they can fly o-or heal things!” she pouted as her hair fluffed up, “No one likes witches!!”

“I do.” he opened the door of the bookstore.

“Sena your friend is insane!” she insisted as the eyepatch wearing shop owner turned confused. He tilted his head and saw Arulius behind her.

“Ah, Pia you know Ru?” he asked confused as she slammed her hands on the desk with a huff.

“We met on the train.” Arulius set the ruined cake down, “I had a bit of an incident and passed out.”

“Well you’re pretty weak.” Sena snorted, “Pia what’s the issue though? He’s insane?”

“I told her I like witches.”

Sena snorted and had to kneel behind the desk to hide his laughter.

“SEE HE’S INSANE!” she was completely red in the face.

“W-Why would…” Sena snorted and laughed, “what brought this on?”

“Pain pain go away.” Arulius sang, causing the bookseller to start laughing harder.

“YOU USED A HEALING SPELL ON HIM!” he wheezed as her hair fluffed up.

“I-I didn’t! I didn’t! I’m not a witch! Witches are--”

“The one in front is really cute.” a litted voice laughed as the black haired individual slid down the railing from the second floor, “hey Ru, why is my husband dying?”

“I said I like witches and Eclipse is throwing a fit.” Arulius chuckled.

“Pia used a healing spell on him Love! And acting like she’s not a w-witch!” Sena cackled.

“Well she has always hated that term, you guys aren’t even witches technically.” Love shut an eye, “you’re what, like half fae?”

“Something like that.” Eclipse grumbled as she tried to fix her hair, “B-But he’s still weird! Give me the car keys he needs a hospital!”

“Naw he’s fine.” Love looked at the young writer, “seems he may have a magic his own.”

“Naw, I’m boring.” Arulius held his hands up, “weird dreams and a writer. That’s it!”

“Weird dreams he says.” Sena tried to stop laughing.

Eclipse groaned, “I’m not a witch! Witches are mean and ugly and haughty! I’m not! I didn’t sue magic! I’m---” She flinched when Arulius covered her eyes with his hand. Instantly she relaxed against him. He blinked in surprise that had actually worked.

Sena stared at the two and blinked a few times as he finally got his composure back, “well then. Are you sure you aren’t magic?”

“I’m really not.” Arulius laughed, “my dad’s a lawyer and my mom teaches pre-k. We’re just an average family.” he laughed, “Honestly, I just. Have weird dreams. I thought this may help.” he slowly removed his hand as she peeked at him with a completely reddened face.

He smirked and she squeaked and looked away. He couldn’t help the dumb grin, “hey Sena.”

“What?” the book seller raised his brow.

“Would you kill me for trying to seduce your sister?”

The entire shop went silent.

The silver haired shop keep’s eye twitched.

“WHAT?!”

#Second chances and Angel Food cake AU #fan fiction #ahit au #ahit prince #ahit moonjumper #ahit fan character #ahit shapeshifter #writing #Eclipse Guardian #Prince Arulius #Sena the threadsmith #Marcus Johnathan Cornelius Law #Craft Tailor #change of pace with ru being the one remebmering past lives #eclipse is just an enthusiastic student with a small tsun tsun heart