#I love how cute she is in this seen

[feroluce]

Me: I wonder what Hook calls Sampo in the Japanese dub? Probably oji-san, since it's shushu in the original Chinese?

Hook: Sampo-ojichan!!

Oji is "uncle," which is hilarious because Hook calls Natasha by "older sister" when she wants something. So Hook either just really wants to get on Natasha's good side, or she takes Sampo at face value when he refers to himself as an old man. She trusts him a lot and takes him at his word and she calls him as such!

And Sampo calls Hook either ojou-san or oujo-san (I can't find the Japanese sub to see the spelling, and I can't tell them apart by ear)!

One spelling, oujo, means "princess," it's how you would refer to royalty. The other, ojou, (which I assume is what he's actually saying) is something you call the young lady of a high-class family with a high social standing. In Genshin Impact, the intro scene for a popular ship, chilumi, shows Childe calling Lumine ojou-chan, which the English dub translated as "girlie." Since Sampo uses -san instead of -chan, his is more formal and respectful, it's more like "young lady."

...It's also how you would refer to the daughter of a yakuza leader, which I love, since Hook leads her own little gang (the Moles) skzhkskdkd

But it really gets me in the heart, because! Hook is generally looked at as a delinquent by most adults. Which I mean. Not without good reason, she

calls Natasha an old witch

frequently sneaks out into the Fragmentum

has left graffiti all over the side of the orphanage

was constantly picking fights with other kids

beat a man unconscious for stealing from her dad

and has already picked up on how business gets done in the Underworld, and uses/actively participates in it to get what she wants- she basically acts an information broker

like Hook earns her reputation haha. The Underground is lucky that what Hook wants is just like. Candy and toys and to play hide-and-seek. I'm sure she'll have the capability to raise all kinds of hell and be more like an actual gang leader when she's older, even if she chooses not to act on it.

So Sampo calling her so politely and respectfully is really sweet and cute! Yes, he's polite and respectful with everyone, but that's just it- he treats Hook much like he does everyone else. He doesn't tell her to buzz off because she's a kid. He doesn't lie or try to cheat her or assume she's naive because of her age. He never talks down to her. He really does just treat her like a respected business partner and he takes her seriously, which Hook really seems to appreciate. And even when Sampo does treat her like a kid, it's not in a negative way; he guides her on little adventures and chats with her and takes her for joy rides on his moped. All of which Hook also really appreciates, since everyone else is too busy trying to get by to make time to play with her. She absolutely adores him.

I hope they officially join forces someday and terrorize all of Belobog with their shenanigans JSKJZNDKSJ

So Hook calls Sampo "Uncle Sampo" in a particularly affectionate/endeared tone, and Sampo calls Hook "Young Miss Hook" in a very respectful tone! And to reiterate:

[paperglader]

it hit me again yesterday- literally as i was about to fall asleep- how stupidly cute it is that marisha as beau randomly burst out "i could be her beacon [that guides her home]" all awkward and earnest about jester, for then one campaign later, finally, laura as imogen come back to her with "you're my tether, laudna. sometimes i feel like i’m about to float away, but as long as you’re there" and i just think that's beautiful and another reminder of how in so many ways CR continues to be endless love letters from the cast to each other.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

ANCIENT wip that i finally got around to splashin color onto. NO idea where this colorin style came from n it WONT happen again!! anyway i LOOOVE the general dynamic between arthur n emizel. both are so cool and so awesome and yet SO silly...

[fresanita]

Welp I am entirely too late to the party BUT I'm so invested in what you have going on so far!! So glad the fandom is waking up to the potential of Dadlastor with Angel ^v^

I'm rlly sorry for how LATE my response for this is!!!!😓💔 My minds been tossing out other reminders in order to recall new ones😔.

Anyways I wanted to mention that I actually got interested in Dadlastor bc I bumped into your fic where Angel is Alastors biological child! I read the tags, and my mind went BONKERS at the ideas flashing my mind, so thank you for essentially introducing the dynamic to me!🫡🫂 I was already into parental yandere fics from other Fandoms, but never though I'd see a similar dynamic in the Hazbin hotel fandom🤭!!

I rlly love yandere fathers, something about them just makes my heart squeeze (I LOVE PARENTAL DYNAMICS)!!! Anyways, thank you for the support to my little comic; I'm so glad to see some others enjoying it too, I love it when I get comments🙂🫶!

Anyways, here's a VERY OLD doodle I did of parental alastor w angel Dust turned into a child. It's an old fic idea of mine that's still in the dusty drafts😮‍💨.

In this one, he's still meek and quiet since his dad was a rather stern man; smack the mouths when they say irrelevant things, so he might as well not say much at all🫡! The main point of the fic is to point out that Alastor is NOT fit for raising a child in regards to their emotional needs, but that's fixed later on through trial and error😉! I still love how tiny Angel Dust looks (MY BABY, MY BABYYYYY, UR MY BABY SAY IT TO ME-). Alastors supporting his back so he doesn't fall,,,Family Photo!🫶 sorry for how blurry it is, I usually draw small on the canvas🫥

[erineas]

Hiii, here a wip of something i'm doing idk if I'll be able to finish it though Still, I hope you had a good day (or that you're going to have a good one)

(Btw i love your art, like it is really yummy to look at it!!)

No way you drew her too!!! *beam sfx*

[sukibenders]

It's annoying how many Glinda fans, specifically a certain type, act condescending towards people criticizing Glinda's actions and her as a character, calling her out for how she operates in a way that benefits her by saying "Oh, these people don't know anything, they haven't seen Act II or read the books." But when they are told that both forms of media have been seen, they still get in their feelings, especially towards black and other poc fans who, when discussing Glinda, talk about how she feels very reflective of white feminism, respectability politics and performance activism (which she is), something that they know probably what it's like to be around people like that from personal experience. Just because you like a character, especially one who does bad things, doesn't mean you get to be rude to others or downplay their intelligence when they call these actions out. Glinda is often infantilized a lot in this fandom, from what I've gathered, even though (speaking from a movie standpoint) she literally sings about how she understands the way her society works and how she uses those rules to her advantage. There are many things that Glinda does that are fake and catty, and there's nothing wrong with calling that out. Also, another thing, yes some people haven't seen the musical (in person or in full) whether it not being available or just lack of interest, but there are ways to still learn about Act II before the second half of the movie comes out, whether through a quick Google search or just watching bootleg recordings of the musical on YouTube, people can learn, but you acting pretentious and downright hostile probably makes them want to avoid this fandom as a whole. Then you wonder why no one wants to engage with Wicked. You can like her as a character, all good and well as even I can find myself drawn to her, but let's not let your enjoyment of her cloud your judgment and having you lash out at people, because that's really uncalled for.

[stiffyck]

Can we talk about how Karen definitely has some sort of PTSD because you can't just wake up one day with a knife and bloody hands and a dead coworker on your carpet one and then be fine. You don't get arrested and then almost strangled to death while in custody and be fine. You don't get kidnapped and threatened and then kill someone in self defense and be fine.

Oh my god can we PLEASE talk about Karen and her trauma oh my GOD.

[uncanny-tranny]

I went to a local yarn store for the first time, and while I was there, somebody was talking about getting a beginner's knitting kit, and she inquired about when lessons were, and when she was told that they'd be happy to sit down with her and teach her, she was so delighted. She talked about how excited she was and how much she wanted to learn to knit, and it just... it made me fall in love with humanity. It was this pure, unadulterated happiness coming from somebody and it was so genuine and kind, and I couldn't help but smile.

I guess all of this is to say... every moment, there are tiny little joys like this all over the world, and it makes this life worth living. I hope you witness and feel joy this simple, this pure.

[miniagula]

movie sonadow would be so l umity-coded…and i say this bc their dynamic is similar to the games but with a different and tender perspective: they both empathize deeply with each other now, and this shadow is not as reticent or closed off bc of that. that being said: movie!sonic would ABSOLUTELY 'YOU'RE the sweet potato!' the hell out of shadow

[oddly-casual]

Homura Hc’s (or a mini appreciation post tbh)

Homura is one of those characters we see only a handful a times. I think we see her maybe three times in the show, and a couple times in the merch. Mostly Hesokuri wars.

But despite the fact that she has about two speaking roles in between three seasons and a movie, the writers try to keep her personality in tact and I like that they do that.

Most of this comes from Jyushimatsu Dolphin (season 3 Ep. 8). Where Homura sticks her neck out to help Jyushimatsu follow his dream of being a dolphin.

We don’t know exactly how cannon these skits are, but certain characters are chosen for a reason and I think we can take away a lot from some of Homura’s decisions and actions.

Like the fact that she even agrees to help Jyushimatsu at all despite not knowing him (in this skit at least). She tells us directly that it was because she was moved by his passion, but staking your job on something as flaky as passion would be- what some people call- a dumb risk.

Despite being the only one in his corner, Homura gives her all into training him. In her first appearance in season one, Todomatsu call her “Weird” And I think this skit goes into depth about how weird she actually is. Homura hardcore trains him in the ways of being a dolphin that she is familiar with, even if that means nearly drowning him.

This girl that we met in season one, who we knew as soft and sad, is in fact a weirdo.

Like just look at how everyone reacts to her! Go off queen!

I really like how this skit gets rid of any assumptions about Homura’s character. From her first appearance alone you would think maybe she’s weak willed or fragile- but she really puts her all into the things she cares about and doesn’t let anyone slow her down.

Homura doesn’t even call it out or try to explain herself, it’s just how she is and I love that for her.

We also see pretty consistently how she handles conflict, or failing.

In season 1 she calls off ever seeing Jyushimatsu again because she has to go home, and you can tell it hurts her to just outright reject him like the that.

The fact that we possibly know her background also adds context to her decision.

It’s possible she just wants to get away from that industry and the people, maybe too many people know her from the porn dvds and she just needed a fresh start somewhere else. Maybe she felt like she was lying to Jyushimatsu because she couldn’t tell him all she’d done- who knows?

There’s a lot of ways you can look at it but I think most of all, the skit in season 2 could reshape how we looked at her reaction to conflict in season 1.

When faced with failure, Homura gives up.

She gave it her all, and it still didn’t happen. Homura is grounded in reality to an extent. While the Matsuno’s live by their own rules and do whatever they want- it feels like Homura found a way to work within the rules. To try everything she can, but not to exhaust herself with something that’s not baring fruits.

She doesn’t seem disappointed that Jyushimatsu will keep trying, she’s angry. Homura yells at him and calls him a block head because he’s being stubborn- but why try so hard to get him to give up when it’s his dream? Why does she want him to quit? He will continue with it without her so why?

There’s a possibly that she doesn’t want to see him hurt. Like season 1, Homura distances herself from Jyushimatsu specifically after he confesses.

We can assume it’s because she would be in a whole other city, and with the past attached to her, she didn’t want to hold him back. Either that, or she didn’t want to face rejection if things didn’t end up working out.

But I also think it’s important to note that Homura was moments away from ending her own life. In the end, she chooses to take herself to a familiar place rather than to attempt again- showing signs of gaining some perspective or some motivation to keep going.

My main take away from Homura as a character, and outside of her potential relationship with Jyushimatsu, is that Homura is a character ground in reality who is a little silly.

Homura takes things seriously, no matter how goofy they are (like wanting to be a dolphin- like an actual dolphin), but she also likes to laugh and have fun like everyone else.

Homura knows not to spend time on something that possibly won’t work out, and this could be because she’s been beaten down before and knows the prolonged pain of hope. She also has a past we know nothing about that could’ve shaped the person she is today.

Homura is a silly weird girl, but unfortunately life got to her first. That doesn’t stop her from being weird and silly though.

[moeblob]

So in the base plot she isn't really mentioned but there is lore that one of the bartenders (James) is the work dad to the hot bartender. And he's got a girlfriend who is never mentioned by name. Buuuut in the Royalty AU there's a young woman named Erin who is hired as the new head gardener at the castle and while she is getting adjusted to the role, she has some assistance from someone she used to work with at the flower shop in town. And that's the hot gardener!

So basically, Erin exists more in the AU than she does in canon/base but I'm stressed and wanted to design her.

For those that are new/don't know my OCs, Hot Bartender (HB) will never be given a name. That's just him now. He's the hot bartender. He's got a huge crush on Paul (another side character). That's Erin's work son vicariously in main and her work son directly in AU.

[add1ctedt0you]

"Can't you see the look on jiejie's face?"

[welcometogrouchland]

I just think Hunter was obsessed with Willow and didn't even know it during the period from any sport in a storm to labyrinth runners. They maybe don't talk as often as they could, they're both busy and have conflicting schedules, so when they do talk, Hunter absorbs everything she says.

After roughly 3 weeks of texting (hexting? I feel like the kids would call it hexting), He knows that her favorite colour is orange, she likes her tea with extra milk and a bit of honey during winter, she likes working out to the noisiest angriest music in her playlist, her dad Gilbert is a construction witch who specialises in pottery, she used to listen to breakup songs and think about her childhood best friend (Hunter doesn't know it's Amity) and she actually has a mild pollen allergy despite being a plant witch and has to take potions for it.

He casually drops all this info piece by piece during their stay in the human realm and willows like. Well I can't not marry him. It'll have to be a winter or fall wedding to account for her allergies </3

[r3dblccd]

I can't wait to use my new bullet journal 🥰

Bonus: My first bullet journal that I've been using for this a d last year. I named it CHONKY (ignore the bottom left sticker, a friend gave it to me. Probably for a reason but ain't gonna talk about that fjgfjffif)

[scionshtola]

Cori and Shtola getting cozy by the fireplace by @sunshinemage 💗

[sentientcave]

Mace of Bakes

Read on AO3

Contains: Non-canon character death (cancer mention), Reminiscing about the army and merc work, Mace deciding on a new path for himself, Community building through food, Self-discovery time for Mace. x Single mom reader (eventually, she's not really in this part) Basically fluff with some sad stuff at the start.

~3.6k - SFW

"Are you happy, Mason?"

His mama looked all wrong, laying in a hospital bed. Mace had never known her to get sick. He'd never thought that she'd get old. In his mind, she was still young the same age as when he left home. It startled him to realize that he was the same age she'd been when he left home. Thirty-eight.

She wasn't even sixty now. Too young to be laying there, all the warmth drained out of her skin, too young for her tightly coiled hair to be grey, too young to be dying.

He itched to get up and do something. Anything. But he'd already done everything he could think of. He'd brought her sunflowers, chocolate from that fancy little place down the block from the house he'd bought her the moment he'd been able to, brought her pretty stationary and a pen so she could write letters to her friends in shaky but still clear script. He'd even prayed. Gone to church and sat down in a pew and bargained with god. The world would be better with her in it, and him gone. If there was one thing he'd learned from his years as a soldier, it was that violence only begat more violence. Put down one enemy, and another popped up in his place. But people like his mother made things better.

She was no saint, of course— Hard to be, in her position, raising a headstrong boy furious about losing his father in some far off conflict he couldn't understand— but she was good. Patient. Dedicated her time to helping her community. Helped kids like him make better decisions than he had. She always picked up the phone when he called, no matter what time of day it was for her. Better that she live, and he die.

But god made no bargains with sinners, it seemed.

"Mason," she repeated, reaching for his hand. Her grip was weak. "Are you happy? Are you living the life you want?"

Was he? Did he even remember what it was to be happy?

The trouble with wearing a mask is that you become more of an idea than a person.

It had been years since Mace really thought about himself. He'd just been a kid, angry and afraid, desperate to get out of his home, out of his city. He was smart, but his grades weren't good enough to get any kind of scholarship. He was athletic, but he wasn't much of a team player, so there was no college team that wanted him either, no matter how big and strong he was already at eighteen. The army was just about the only thing he could use to drag himself up, so he gripped that uniform and held on tight, until his knuckles creaked with the effort. He should have known better, after what happened to his father, but maybe he just wanted to see something of his dad when he looked in the mirror.

(One of his drill sergeants had called him a fighting dog. Mace had grit his teeth and taken it, because as much as he wanted to bite back, it would just be proving the man right. And Mace would take a lot worse than that if it meant showing the whole damn world how wrong they were to dismiss him outright, to decide his fate before he'd taken his first step. But that was the way things were. The way they still are.)

But the thing about the army is that people notice when you're good at what you do. He'd moved from regular army to the rangers by the recommendation of that same sergeant. He earned respect. He'd joined an international task force and met someone who reminded him far too much of himself. Funny how someone from thousands of miles away could look him in the eye and see the things he thought he'd buried. Simon Riley, Ghost, more an idea than a person. And Mace put on that mask, same as Riley's, and they were like brothers.

Until they weren't.

Mace kept the mask though. And the lesson.

He left the army. Joined the Shadows. Joined the Jackals. Worked his ass off anywhere he went. He was efficient, brutal when he needed to be, bold and creative, one of the best.

And now…

Graves had offered him a spot with the Shadows again. But in truth, the soldier's life was wearing on him. He'd bled for his country, bled for money, bled for his homeland.

None of it had made him happy.

The words caught in his throat. "No. But I'll try to be."

"That's all I ever wanted for you."

Things got worse, and she didn’t get better, but he held her hand while she slipped away. Held it together to plan a funeral, shaking hands with everyone who came to pay their respects. It twisted something inside him painfully. All these people that knew his mother better than he did. That loved her, laughed with her.

Who would come to his funeral, if he died right there? A few old war dogs, if word got to them in time. He had few friends. No one would care about his passing the way they did his mother’s.

He stood in the graveyard for a long while after they buried her, staring at the gravestone. Kendra Ward, 1966-2024. She was the best of us.

It wasn’t enough. But what could be?

Her estate was easily settled. Mace still owned the house, on paper, and she didn't have that much else. No matter how much money he sent her, she didn’t like to spend more money than she needed to. He gave the house to his cousin Jessie, since she had four kids and a too-small apartment, gave the car to his aunt, let them split what little jewelry she had between them. He kept her wedding rings, and his father's, since she'd told him that she wanted him to have them, and he took some of the photo albums. He couldn't bear to look at them now, but maybe someday he'd want to.

He thought about staying. It was nice, for a few weeks, to spend time with Jessie's kids, get to know his family again. He'd thought it would be hard to talk to children, but it really wasn't, in the end. It was easy, because all he really had to do was listen, and let them win any games they played.

Still, there was another brother out there he needed to make peace with. One that wouldn't so readily accept that he had changed.

So he went to England.

He didn't expect to see Riley for a long while. He wasn't sure that the man lived in Manchester, if he ever even left base anymore. They'd both become the mask over the years. It wasn't easy to start being a whole person again.

He tried a few jobs on, but they fit like an off the rack suit. He couldn't stand the noise of most trades, didn't have any patience for customers or desk work. Maybe he could move out to the country and be a farmer. The thought appealed to him somewhat, although he knew deep down it was just the fantasy of the life that he wanted. He didn't particularly care for getting muddy, and he didn't know the first thing about animals.

He was walking home when he noticed the Help Wanted sign in the window of the bakery near his apartment (flat, as the locals called it). He liked the place, in part because Sharon, the older woman with graying curls that worked the counter reminded him a bit of his mother, and partially because the smell of bread baking wafted in through his window early mornings, and it was hard to resist the siren’s call.

The little bell above the door jingled pleasantly as he walked in, head nearly brushing the damn thing.

"Hi, honey," Sharon said with a smile, popping her head out of the kitchen. "We don't usually see you so late."

"I saw the sign in the window, ma'am. Thought I might as well ask you about it."

“Our baker quit in the middle of his shift. I’ve been running back and forth all day.” She pursed her lips, taking in the broad and tall expanse of him. “You’re interested?”

“Yes ma’am. Was a soldier for a long time, and I’ve been having trouble finding civilian work that suits. At the very least, I know I’d respect my boss.” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit sheepish. It wasn’t as if she had time to train a raw rookie, but… “Don’t know dick all about baking, but I’m good at following orders.”

Sharon thought about it for a moment. “Can you promise not to quit in the middle of a shift?”

“Figure nothing you throw my way could be worse than desert warfare.”

Sharon grinned. “No, we only do dessert warfare here.”

Mace barked out a laugh despite himself. He’d always loved a bad joke. “Got a bakery rival?”

“Of course. Where d’you think my baker went off to?” She shook her fist at the far wall, laughing. “You’re hired. Can you start now? If I’ve got to mop the floors after the day I’ve had… Well, I don’t want to. Better the young do the heavy lifting, yeah?”

“Can do, ma’am. Just show me to the mop closet.”

He wiped down the little cafe tables and stacked up the chairs so he could sweep, mopped the cafe floor, emptied the display case and bought the wire trays to the kitchen to run through the dishwasher. Sharon was portioning out dough and quickly shaping it and putting it into baskets. He watched for a moment, and then went back out to finish cleaning up the front of house.

When he returned again, Sharon beckoned him over. “Wash your hands well,” she ordered. “I’ll show you how to shape these loaves. This dough’s a little sticky, so you’ve got to be decisive.”

He did his best to mirror her movements. The dough was really sticky, but there was a slight resistance to it, and once he got the hang of the consistency, he was able to produce a ball that Sharon didn’t have to reshape a little before it was tucked into it’s little basket to rise overnight. Each one was better than the last.

It felt nice to use his hands for something productive. This wasn’t much like anything he’d done as a soldier, and it was a relief that he was still able to learn new tricks. That he wasn’t so busted up by everything he’d been through to do something good.

Each basket went on a tray with three others, and then onto a wheeled rack, and soon they’d filled two. Sharon covered them with a plastic sheet (to keep humidity in) and they slid them into the big walk in fridge.

There were a few more things to do, cleaning up the kitchen, but soon enough Mace was hauling the trash into the dumpster behind the bakery while Sharon locked up. She handed him a box of leftovers from the display case, which he accepted gladly.

He ate a chocolate chip cookie on his way back to his apartment, humming. That felt like the right kind of work. Busy enough, quiet enough, and he wouldn’t have to be the one dealing with customers. It was going to be a hell of a learning curve, but he liked the idea of being a baker. The sort of career that his mama would be proud to see him in

He ate a cold sandwich and several more pastries for dinner, then showered and went to bed early, setting his alarm for four am. He stared at the ceiling for a little while, arms tucked behind his head.

Yeah. This would suit him just fine.

The next morning had Mace out in the pre-dawn chill, waiting beside the bakery. He'd ended up watching a few videos on bread shaping while he ate breakfast, feeling a strange apprehension, like a student desperate to cram as much information as possible into his head before a big exam. He really wasn't qualified. He didn't know shit about cooking or baking-- He'd eaten mess hall meals and MRE's for the majority of his adult life. He knew what good food tasted like, but making it was a whole other beast.

He was pretty sure he'd gone into war zones less nervous than this.

Sharon waved at him when she turned the corner a little ways up the street. "Showed up after all, did you? The early mornin' didn't scare you off?"

"No ma'am. Said I'd be here." He followed her down the alley, hands in his pockets.

"An honest American," she said, faking a look of shock as she unlocked the door. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"You just dealing with tourists? Or do you have a vendetta I should know about?"

Sharon laughed. "Vendetta. An American woman stole my son away to Florida. I hardly see him now."

"I've got friends down that way. You say the word and I'll have them ship him back to you."

"Tell them to bring my grandkids too!"

Mace soon found out that Sharon was a great teacher. Funny, when she wasn't bone tired after a long day, and especially now that he wasn't a customer anymore. That polite customer service smile that he had gotten used to was replaced by a wicked grin, and she swore a blue-streak as she gave him instructions and gossiped. He learned more about his neighbourhood in a few hours than he'd found out in his months of living there.

Sharon's husband, Veer came in to open the storefront so Sharon could stay in the kitchen to train Mace.

"Had to take a week of vacation," he said when he brought two mugs of coffee back for them. "So you'd better be worth it! She makes me wear a beard net when I work the front counter." He winked at Sharon.

Sharon just rolled her eyes, her own hair totally secured by a bonnet. "You never wear the beard net, you just wear a mask."

"Perhaps. 30 minutes till open, anyway."

Mason started loading loaves of bread into the baskets that sat on the shelves behind the counter, and Sharon got started on assembling pastries. By the time he was putting out the last basket, the first customers were entering the store.

The display case filled, and then the sourdough for the next day mixed (Sharon said she'd portion and shape it closer to close), and the day was over before Mace knew it. He wasn't certain he knew what to do with himself for the rest of the afternoon (it seemed very strange to get off work by 1pm), but it seemed that he could stand to work on his baking skills at home too.

He went to the shops to buy everything he could think of to stock his cupboards, since they were rather bare, and made cupcakes when he got home, lamenting his lack of a piping bag when it came time to frosting them. They didn't look quite as impressive as he'd hoped they would, but they tasted pretty good-- One of the tips in the recipe's comments recommending "blooming" the cocoa powder with a bit of hot water seemed to be a neat trick. He wanted to try combining it with another tip about coffee bringing out the flavour of chocolate too.

Next time.

He cleaned up and made dinner, and offered cupcakes to his neighbours, feeling strangely shy. He was a grown man, he'd been shot more than once, but somehow knocking on the door of the college girls next door and the old man across the hall and the young mother by the stairs made him break out in a cold sweat, stumbling over his explanation. Why was it so much easier to kill people than offer kindness? There had to be something pathologically wrong with him.

(The part of him that knew he had to be kinder to himself too whispered a reminder that it was just unfamiliar ground. Hadn't his hands shaken the first time he held a rifle too? Hadn't he slunk off to puke his guts up and cry after the first time he'd killed another person? It was just so long ago that he'd forgotten.)

He outran the nerves that evening, as the sky turned dark, and put himself to bed early, ready to do it all again the next day.

The routine was good for him. Weeks passed, and he settled into an easy rhythm, waking early for work, joking with Sharon while he worked, setting himself up with a new project every other day.

(He would have made it every day, but while he was growing very fond of cooking and baking, he didn’t love doing the dishes.)

It gave him time to start going to the gym again, at least. He’d started putting on a little weight around the middle, which he didn’t hate. He kind of liked it, especially when he heard the college girls giggling and whispering about his dad bod. Still, he didn’t want to have to buy new clothes, and he wanted to stay in good shape, and he found he still really liked lifting weights, especially now that he did it for fun and not out of necessity. Even better, lifting weights meant that he got to eat more. So it worked out nicely.

His neighbours started talking to him more, everyone more than a little interested in getting on the list for receiving little treats. Everyone had sort of avoided him on principle before, unsure about the giant American loner that settled into their building, but now everyone knew him by name. They asked him for help when they needed heavy things moved. The girls down the hall asked him to make them a birthday cake (Which he was more than happy to do. He was getting better at decorating all the time).

The old fellow across the hall, Percy, turned out to be a veteran too, and he invited Mace out to drinks a few times with some of his old air force buddies, and he got to listen to the old men swap stories and complain about young people these days and the price of groceries (and drinking with old men was ideal, since he could still be in bed early enough to get plenty of sleep before work). The college girls were Morg and Corrie, and often Kailee, who didn’t actually live in the building but was there so often that she practically did. They were possibly the silliest girls he’d ever met, but he at least partially had to attribute that to the fact that he understood only about fifty percent of what they were saying at any time, between the giggling and the slang he didn’t understand.

They tried to thank him for the baked goods by inviting him over for dinner once. A valiant, but ultimately bland effort. He’d eaten worse, but not in a long while, and they spent half the meal flirting shamelessly. He made a promise to himself in that moment that he would never date a woman under thirty.

The single mother, Tammy, was a lot more sensible, but not as single as he’d assumed. Her friend that came over often turned out to be her girlfriend. The kids were funny, especially the younger two, who took every opportunity to talk his ear off about school and dinosaurs and some youtube video game streamer with a silly name. The oldest kid was in that awkward teenage phase of thinking his own interests were cringe and looking for a new identity that was cool. He seemed baffled by Mace, like he couldn’t quite connect the dots on why someone who looked and sounded like a soldier would be spending his free time doing favours for others and baking.

Mace wasn’t sure if it were his place to say anything, but he hoped the kid would come to understand that what Mace was doing now was a hundred times better than being a soldier. A thousand times more meaningful.

He felt like a new person. Born again, like the last twenty years could be chalked up to a bad dream.

(It wasn’t as if he were ashamed of it. Maybe he should have been. But he’d always been principled about his work. Not everyone agreed with his actions, he’d found himself down-barrel of a once friendly gun more than a few times. But that didn’t mean he would stop doing what he thought was the right thing.)

He was sure that this contentedness was what his mother had wanted for him. He wished he’d listened to her a long time ago.

Of course, as it so often happens, pleasant routines get shaken up. For Mace, it was on an otherwise ordinary day in late November, when Sharon was buzzing excitedly about her daughter moving home.

(Divorced, and with a three year old she would have to take care of all by herself. She’d probably come work the front counter, so Sharon could be in the kitchen more for the busiest season. Didn’t it work out so nicely?)

And the timing did seem good. Mason was glad for anything that would give Sharon more time off. He worried about her overworking herself, and she always complained about not seeing any of her grandchildren enough.

Still, he found himself stopping short, nearly dropping the tray of cookies he’d been carrying when he came out of the kitchen.

“Oh, wonderful,” Sharon said, grinning. “Mason, come meet my daughter!”

And you smiled at him, sticking your hand out. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Nice didn’t even begin to cover it.

Title Card made in Canva ~ Image Credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 ~ Dividers by @/cafekitsune