#I may or may not have forgotten to turn the oven on

[ilybangchann]

Baking should not be this stressful

I tried, okay? I TRIED MY BEST making banana cookies. It's not my fault that it's SO FLIPPING STRESSFUL-

I'm sweating and it's not even funny-

And my cookies are still in the oven, and they're STILL SQUISHY-

IT HAS BEEN 20 WHOLE FLIPPING MINUTES AND THEY'RE STILL SQUISHY-

Do I deserve this? It should be in my blood, no? My sibling is a baker, and they're literally fine. BUT ME?? WHAT IS THIS-

oh well, let me check on my cookies- OH WAIT, THEY'RE STILL SQUISHY IT'S BEEN 22 MINUTES ARGHHHHH

(the recipe called for 11-13 minutes🥲)

And the thing is, I cleaned up, did the dishes, and am done with the prep time. but I'm still shaking? I will never get how they do it. Like- never ever am I gonna like baking.

ALSO I HALFED THE RECIPE SHOULDN'T IT TAKE LESS TIME?! The website said that prep time was 15 minutes, it's really not.

...

it's really not...

like- it's now been 30 minutes... let's play a game, it's called:

'Are @ilybangchann's entire 6 cookies done yet?'

NO! THEY'RE NOT!

TL;DR: I practically had a meltdown while attempting to bake 6 banana cookies.

[madcat-world]

I May Have Forgotten to Turn Off the Oven (1 of 3) - Jocelin Carmes

[dinogoofymutated]

ik you just wrote for Kurt but if I could request some sfw headcanons for him? 👉🏽👈🏽 he'd be such a cuddly man especially with that tail of his

Sfw! Nightcrawler/GN!Reader

YES OFC!!! I was just thinking about this !! With how cuddly he was in the latest episode it had me all giddy and shit AAUGHH!! THIS MAN!!!

I also may or may not have gotten carried away with the fic half of this because I'm actually in love with him.

-Ps- @bl1ngringz You sent an ask for more Kurt, and I'm working on more but I figured I'd tag you in this one!

TWs: none that I can think of atm.

Touch is 100% one of Kurt’s love languages. If you're close to him, he's going to be touching you in one way or another

He really likes to wrap his tail around your waist to pull you closer to him, and it's always surprising because how is his tail that strong?? The sensation of his tail being wrapped around you in one shape or form starts to become such a comforting sensation.

If you're anxious and picking and your fingers in a social situation, he'll take hold of your hand and press a kiss to your palm, and if you're less comfortable with pda, he'll snake his tail in between your hands instead. Afterwards he always checks your hands and cuticles, just in case.

Sometimes he'll have really rough days and will just really need you to hold him. He'll teleport you out of your office if he feels like you've been gone too long and he starts to worry about you. It's surprising at first, but you quickly get over it when the furball snuggles into you, quietly pouting about how long you've been gone. It's easy to tell other things are on his mind, but you know he enjoys the silence when you choose not to press him, and simply hold him tightly.

Kurt isn't just a cuddle bug. He's a cuddle MONSTER. On the couch? He'll plop down on top of you, falling asleep on you like a cat who only ever manages to fall asleep right when you need to pee. In bed? Again, no pee breaks. He usually has such a tight grip on you, only able to fall asleep buried in your arms. It doesn't matter how hot it is, if you roll away he'll feel bad. He knows you don't hate him and that you're just moving in your sleep but :( come back. He can't sleep without you!

You wouldn’t consider yourself a morning person, but sometimes you’d wake up and simply be too restless to fall back asleep. Sometimes it was anxiety, other times excitement, but today you woke up simply content. Kurt’s arms were wrapped around you loosely, which was a surprise. He’s normally fully wrapped around you, limbs tangled tightly with your own, tail wound around your wrist, ankle, or hand in his sleep. You smile as you turn around, brushing hair out of his face. He doesn’t even stir, nor lean into the warmth of your hand. You’d be freaking out if it weren’t for his steady breathing, but the two of you had a rough couple of days. If he’s sleeping this deeply, he deserves the rest.

It’s easy to slide out of his arms, quietly padding out of the bedroom barefooted. You flinch when you reach the cold wood floors of the hallway, early spring still inconsistent with its bouts of cold weather. After quietly closing the door, you make your way to the living room on the search for a pair of slippers. You had a bad habit of losing them, sometimes stealing Kurt’s instead, but you find yours set aside neatly. You smile as you slip them on, knowing that you most certainly weren’t the one who put them there.

It’s still dark outside when you start to preheat the oven, and you know you must be up way too early. You laugh a little, with how early Kurt tends to rise, you can only imagine the time. You glance at the oven clock and notice it’s a little after 5 am. You grimace just a little, deciding to ignore it for now. Might as well make breakfast.

You feel like you’ve forgotten how to make breakfast food. Kurt always manages to beat you to it, waking you up in the morning with the smell of coffee and baked goods. You used to feel bad about it, telling him that he didn’t have to. That he didn’t have to go through with the effort. You felt guilty about such a simple thing, feeling like an inconvenience to him. That feeling didn’t last long, however. Kurt had insisted that you were worth the effort, worth his love, and much more. You don’t fight him on it anymore, having taken over lunch preparations instead. He still tries to beat you to that too, though. It’s become a competition as of late, and you smile in a giddy manner, excited to see his pout when he realizes you managed to beat him to breakfast.

    The sun has risen by the time you’ve finished the biscuits and set them out to cool. You’re scrambling some eggs when a tail wraps around your waist and a warm chest presses against your back. Kurt nuzzles into your shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss to the skin. 

    “Guten morgen.” His morning voice is groggy, and to be honest, he sounds like he’s about to fall back asleep right here in the kitchen, holding onto you like a pillow.

“Good morning,” You giggle, turning your head to kiss him sweetly. He’s pouting when you pull away, leaning his cheek on your shoulder.

“You weren’t in bed when I woke up.” Kurt mopes. You mimic his pout with a poorly hidden smile, kissing him a few more times. They were chaste, as you didn't want to get distracted and burn the eggs.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep, and I didn't want to wake you up.” You turn your attention back to the eggs in the pan, and Kurt sighs dramatically at your words, beginning to smile a bit himself. You see an arm sneakily reach over to take the spatula out of your hands, but you’re quick to hold it away from him. He smiles widely when he’s caught, pulling you flush to his chest as he tries to snatch it again with his other hand.

“No!” You giggle. “Kurt, stop it! I’m not letting you finish the eggs!” You may have the willpower to keep the spatula away, but Kurt still has the upper hand with longer arms and an extra limb. His laughs are infectious and he fights you for the utensil.

“Penance, then! For leaving me in a cold bed, I could have gotten sick, you know?” You gasp as Kurt manages to slip the spatula from your grasp. He rejoices in victory, holding it above your head as he turns back to the eggs. He kisses you on the cheek, holding you squarely in his grasp as he finishes breakfast for you, as he always does.

Today was a good morning indeed.

[adverbally]

Too Sweet

Written for the @steddie-spooktober day fifteen prompt “baking” | wc: 867 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: established relationship, romantic gesture, domesticity gone wrong, a little bit of a fight, minor burn injury, happy ending

———

Steve has a clear routine when he comes home from work each day. Straight down the hall to the bedroom to change into sweatpants and one of Eddie’s threadbare old t-shirts, a detour to the bathroom to wash his face, then a stop by Eddie’s office to say hello before Steve starts making dinner. He is a creature of habit– boring in his old age, Eddie teases– and it relaxes him to shed his “work self” and settle back into the comfort of the home he shares with Eddie.

Today, though, Steve walks in the front door and is greeted by the acrid smell of smoke wafting into the foyer from the kitchen.

“Eddie?” he calls, a little alarmed.

There’s no response, except for the shrill beeping of the smoke alarm. Steve drops his backpack by the door, grading immediately forgotten, and runs into the kitchen.

There he finds Eddie, frantically waving a baking sheet around the smoke detector in an attempt to clear the air enough to deactivate the alarm. The oven behind him is hanging open, smoke still billowing out from… what appears to be a muffin tin? Its contents are crispy and black enough that Steve can’t tell exactly what they were supposed to be.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks, maybe a little more bitchy than he would normally be. It was a long day of classroom observation and he got paint on his shirt from one of the kids talking a little too enthusiastically with a paintbrush in hand, and now his routine is disrupted and his house is full of smoke and–

“Just my new workout regimen,” Eddie says sarcastically, glaring over his shoulder and flapping the baking sheet even harder.

Steve dons the oven mitts waiting on the counter and pulls the charcoal-filled tin out of the oven, sitting it on the stovetop. At least it won’t, like, catch on fire now. He yanks off the mitts, shuts off the oven, and pinches the bridge of his nose against the headache building behind his eyes. Maybe the smoke inhalation is starting to get to him. Should he throw the baking disaster in the sink and run water on it? He can’t remember ever burning something this badly before.

Eddie grumbles to himself, “‘Bake until golden brown,’ it said. Golden and brown are different colors! Not to mention all the shades of brown, which turn black pretty fast, like, take your eyes off it for three seconds–”

“Can you quit trying to fly away and help me here?” Steve snaps.

“Help you what?” Eddie fires back.

With a huff, Steve grabs for the tin, only to drop it with a hiss when he realizes he hadn't put the oven mitts back on. “Shit!” he exclaims, flexing his hand to feel the tenderness of the burned spots. The webbing of his thumb seems to have caught the worst of it, though the pads of his fingers are red where they had wrapped around the tin to stabilize it from below. They hurt, too, now that the initial shock has worn off.

Suddenly Eddie is beside him, guiding him to the sink with his hands on Steve’s hips. Wordlessly, he takes Steve’s hand, careful not to touch the fresh burns, and directs it under the stream of cold water. The pain flares at first, but the chill is soothing after a moment, washing away the sting.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks over Steve's shoulder.

Steve sighs and takes stock. The worst of the smoke has cleared, though one of them still needs to shut off the smoke detector. The oven is off and nothing is actively burning. His hand doesn’t look too bad. He turns to face Eddie and says, “Yeah, thanks. You?”

“Fine, just feeling stupid.” Eddie gestures at the smoldering heap of… whatever baked good it may have been at one point. “I was cleaning up while they baked, but I think I forgot to set the timer. Next thing you know,” he gestures upward and outward, miming a rising plume of smoke.

“I know, it happens. I shouldn’t have been such a dick about it,” Steve apologizes.

Eddie’s mouth quirks up in a smile. “That’s what I get for trying to do something nice for you, huh?”

“Oh?” Steve tries to tamp down the immediate panic that rises from the fear of having forgotten something.

It must show on his face because Eddie hastens to add, “Not for a special occasion or anything! Just because, you know, I love you and I know you really liked the cranberry muffins Robin brought over last month. So I got the recipe and.. Ta-da.” He punctuates his explanation with unenthusiastic jazz hands.

Steve can’t help but laugh. “That would have been an excellent surprise, had it worked.” He rests his palms against Eddie’s chest, craving the contact. To his delight, Eddie takes the hint and wraps his arms around his middle, pulling them flush against each other. “But it was still a very sweet gesture.”

When they kiss, Eddie’s mouth tastes like tart berry and spiced batter. Steve savors it, since it’s the closest he’ll get to having those muffins today.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unwanted 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, bullying, insults, body insecurity, perversion, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You’re used to being unwanted, but a strange man might just convince you that’s a good thing.

Note: this is a sequel to Unsolicited/Unexpected, but with a different reader. This is Lloyd’s sequel. Peaches is flourishing somewhere else.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You run away from the uber and nearly crash into the front door. You scramble to get the keys in the lock as you refuse to look back at the car idling at the curb. You shake as you twist so hard your wrist throbs. You swing inside and just as quickly turn the lock. 

You heave and turn your back to the door. You can't believe what just happened. What he did with you right there in the back seat. Your eyes tinge with hot tears and your nose tingles. 

“What’s it this time?” Derrick scoffs as he appears in a pair of loose grey sweats and oversized hoodie. You can’t tell that he’s been sleeping all day. “You’re such a cry baby.” 

“Nothing,” you turn and drop your bag on the side table. “It’s cold, that’s it.” 

“Sure,” he peels open the bag of chips in his hands. 

You shrug. He doesn’t care. He just likes an easy target. 

You unzip your coat and hang it. You leave your boots on the mat and swipe up your bag. You tramp past him and up to your room. 

You shut the door and throw your bag on the end of your bed. You’re restless. Unsettled by that strange man. Why is he bothering you? Of all people. How did he tack onto you. You’re nothing. You’re insignificant. Maybe that’s why. Just like Derrick, he knows you’re weak. 

Your phone vibrates in your back pocket. You flinch. It’s probably your mom ready to bitch you out about the dishes or dinner. You slip the cell free and check it. Private number. 

You answer, it could be your manager. 

“Hello?” You quaver into the speaker. 

“Mmm, there’s that caked-up cutie,” the gravely purr makes you shudder. “I was just thinking of you. Again.” 

“No,” you exclaim and hang up. You throw your phone and pace around. Why? Oh, maybe it’s all your own fault. 

You’re used to being unnoticed. Being the forgotten one. And for so long, you just wanted to be seen. You dreamed of some guy way out of your league picking you out of the crowd and telling you you’re special. But not like this. No, never this. That man is a creep. 

But who are you to be picky? 

No! No. Don’t do that. You’d rather be alone. The way he talks about you, the way he looks at you, even you can see that he’s no good. He’s just a pervert and you’ve seen enough Tiktoks to know better. 

Your phone vibrates again. You ignore it. That’s your only option. 

You leave your room and your cell. You go down and start on dinner. At least your mom won’t have anything to rant about, but you’re sure she’ll think of something. 

You glaze the chicken breast and put it in the oven. You start on the potatoes, seasoning them and adding lemon wedges to the pan. You slide those on the middle rack and rinse asparagus. The front door opens and closes as you focus on the simple tasks over the complicated thoughts nipping at your ears. 

“Smells good,” your father chimes as he enters, then clears his throat, “oh, your mother isn’t home?” 

“Not yet,” you look at the time. You know she had her office holiday party but it is getting late. 

“Hm, well, put some aside for her,” he says. “Is it almost done? I’m starving.” 

“Yeah, twenty minutes,” you answer. 

He doesn’t say anything else before he leaves. You hear him upstairs as he gets changed then comes back down to flip on the television. Your brother’s surround speakers blare through the other wall as he games on his PC. 

The front door opens again. Your mother’s shrill voice carries through with a gust. 

“Oh, that’s so wonderful,” she preens. “How sweet of you.” 

You put the asparagus in the pan and pause. Who is she talking to? You turn with the spatula in hand and near the doorway. You peer down the hall and see a broad set of shoulders. Wait, you know the back of that head. 

“I mean, much more considerate than my own daughter. She’s never mentioned you,” she touches his chest as you see the smirk on her face. You grimace. 

“I think I spoiled the surprise,” Lloyd says. “We were just talking earlier and she told me to come for dinner.” 

“She did? Well, isn’t that spontaneous. So unlike her,” your mom muses wryly. “Just like having a secret boyfriend. Older too.” 

“What’s going on?” Your dad’s growl wafts through and you shrunk back behind the doorframe and listen with dread. 

How are they not freaking out? This weirdo forty-year-old is just waltzing right into your house. This isn’t happening. 

“Hello, sir,” Lloyd says before he gives his name, “I’m here to see your daughter.” 

“That would explain the flowers.” 

“Scotch for you and wine for the missus, of course,” Lloyd explains. 

“Hm, that’s... top shelf,” you dad comments. Of course, he would care more about the fancy bottle than his own daughter. “Mitch,” he introduces himself. 

Your mom hollers your name, “you have companyyyyyy.” 

You cringe into yourself. How did he do it? How has he escalated everything so quickly? And why? Because you hung up on him? Because you closed your eyes when he-- 

Ew! 

She calls you again. You put your head back and gather what little courage you have. You turn and step into the hallway. 

“I’m just cooking dinner,” you say. 

“Get over here,” your dad demands. You know better than to disobey. 

“So when were you going to tell us?” Your mother prompts. 

“Tell you what?” You look at Lloyd sheepishly as he spins to face you and grins. 

“About us, sweetie,” he holds out a bouquet of pink roses, “oh, shoot, did I get the wrong day? I’m always forgetting these things, you know? I’m an executive and I have a pretty full calendar--” 

“Executive?” Your father echoes. 

Your mother hums, impressed. 

“We didn’t...” you try to summon a lie but you’re speechless. “Ummmm.” 

“I don’t know why you felt you had to hide us,” your mom challenges. 

“I didn’t? What?” 

“Well, it is about time, isn’t it, Enid?” Your dad intones. 

You gape at Lloyd as he shoves the flowers towards you, “these will need some water, sweetie.” 

You reach for them and look between your parents. You plead silently for help. Aren’t they supposed to protect you? Shouldn’t they be concerned that there’s an old man bringing you gifts? 

“Oh, dear,” your mom says, “do put them in crystal. They are so pretty.” 

“Just like her mother,” Lloyd adds. 

“Eh,” your father grunts playfully, “you could at least pour me a drink before you start flirting with my wife.” 

[steddieas-shegoes]

more than everything else

For @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt ‘proposal’ wc: 999 rated m cw: suggestive language | tags: domestic fluff, sappy and romantic

💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍

“Steve! Freezer’s working again!” Eddie yelled from his spot on the floor behind their previously defunct freezer.

Eddie insisted he could fix it himself, hence the hours he’d spent on the floor with tools that weren’t doing anything and a lip bitten until it bled.

“Told you if you took your shirt off it would work faster,” Steve said from the doorway, hands on his hips as he took in the sight of Eddie being half naked.

Sweat dripping down his chest.

A bruise forming on his side where he’d dropped a wrench on himself earlier.

His newest tattoo peeling because he’d forgotten to put Vaseline on it earlier.

“I always listen to you, sweetheart,” Eddie smirked as he stood up. “You got any plans later?”

“I actually do remember something on the calendar.”

Eddie walked over to him, covered Steve’s hands with his own and rocked him side to side. “Damn.”

“Why? You wanna make plans?” Steve raised a brow.

“I thought I could get a reward for all my hard work today,” Eddie pouted his bottom lip out, eyes widening as he leaned further into Steve’s space. “Maybe in the bedroom?”

“Reward? For fixing the freezer that you broke?”

“I seem to remember someone saying that the freezer was just ‘old’ and that this ‘could’ve happened to anyone.’ Or am I mistaken?” Eddie let go of Steve’s hands but stayed close to him.

“I’m not sure who said that. I do remember someone saying that if you turned it down too far for too long, it would break, though. Maybe you can recall who said that?” Steve leaned in to peck his lips softly, teasing just a little with his fingers along the waistband of Eddie’s pants. “Seems like a smart guy.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well. At least the guy who broke it could fix it.”

“That’s right, baby.” Steve backed away. “Now. I’ve got baked chicken spaghetti in the oven for dinner and I made cookies earlier if you-“

“Marry me.”

Steve froze, his eyes widened.

Maybe Eddie could’ve been more eloquent, more romantic.

Shit, maybe he could do that still.

He reached for Steve’s hands, smiling softly at him as his eyes darted between Eddie’s, searching for him to say that it was a joke.

“I’m serious.” Eddie kissed his forehead before continuing. “You think I survived the hell of ‘86 to not end up with Steve Harrington? You think I’ve spent nearly every day of the last six years trying to be the best partner you could ask for, the kind you deserve? You make me wanna be more than everything else.”

“What-“

Eddie shushed him with a kiss. “When I was little, like barely old enough to ride a bike, my mom brought me to a flower shop. She said I had to pick a nice flower for my teacher so she knew I was a sweet kid. I picked a daffodil. She laughed and said ‘you know the love of my life always brought my a daffodil’ and when I asked why dad didn’t bring them to her anymore she said ‘he never did.’ And as I got older I realized what that meant. I never could ask her about it, but I eventually asked Wayne. He said-“ Eddie sniffed, biting his lip trying not to cry. “He said sometimes the love you get isn’t what makes you feel better than everything else, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to feel more than everything else. And I still didn’t quite get it, ya know? Made no damn sense to me when I was 13. Kinda thought Wayne was high.” Steve laughed, Eddie smiled. “But then I saw you in the cafeteria one day, and I saw the way you held the door open for some of the band kids even though Tommy was teasing you for it. And I saw how much you did for me at my worst, even before you had a reason to, before you knew it would be worth more. I see how you love, and how you keep loving, even when some people may not deserve it. I feel how much you are, how much more you can still be. And how much I wanna be more to be worthy of you. I don’t have much, you know I don’t, but you love me anyway. And you make me wanna be more.”

Steve’s tears were falling rapidly, a sob escaping at the end of Eddie’s words as he fell forward, his tears soaking Eddie’s shirt instantly.

“You’re enough for me,” he finally managed to say against Eddie’s neck. “You’ve always been enough for me. I don’t want more. I just want you.”

“I know, sweet love. I know.” Eddie’s arms tightened around him. “You think you could marry me?”

“Eds. I would marry you every day if we could.” Steve sniffed as he pulled away. “We can’t really do it, though.”

“Maybe not. But we can wear rings, tell everyone. I can call you my husband around the people who love us.”

That was a hell of a thought.

Husbands.

“You’re sure you want that?”

“Of course I am. Who else is gonna fix your freezer when it breaks?”

“Maybe you could try not to break it in the first place.” Steve smacked his shoulder. He kissed him slowly, tongue brushing against his bottom lip but not looking for more. “But I guess it would be nice to have someone around all the time to fix the stuff he breaks.”

“Hey!”

“I love you.”

It was that simple.

“So. My reward?”

“My hand in marriage.” Steve turned away and looked over his shoulder. “And maybe my hand in other places. If you hurry up and shower.”

“I’ll be done in five. Be naked on the kitchen table-“

“Eddie, not-“

“The kitchen table!”

Steve rolled his eyes but threw his shirt to the floor and winked before making his way to the kitchen. “Five minutes!”

[aziraphales-library]

are there any WIP or long post s2 fics you guys are keeping an eye on? I want to get into something for the long haul! love you guys, thank you!!

I don't read WIPs myself, though I have a couple bookmarked for once they're complete. Here are some long ones for you, which may or may not be completed by the time this posts...

Flaws by indigo (E) (WIP) (now complete)

Aziraphale cannot just sit back and hope any longer; Crowley is too precious to him to allow any risk at all to his continued existence. The Metatron's offer was far too good to pass by, and even if Crowley refuses to see it, Aziraphale needs to take this chance to make Heaven into the place of light and good that it should be. Crowley will come around eventually, the angel knows that impetuosity was always one of his flaws. But what of Aziraphale's flaws? Naivety, perhaps? I am jumping into the post S2 whirlpool with my own thoughts on What Happened Next. Whilst I have every confidence that NG will FIX THIS, I have some fears that Amazon will leave us hanging... and anyway, I want my happiness for them NOW, not in another four years... Angst in places, but they will end up on the same page, eventually! At least one update a week for now, settling into weekly updates by September.

how do we turn on the light? by moonyinpisces (M) (WIP)

Aziraphale ascends to the highest level of the Archangels. And he remembers—well. It’s not important what he remembers.

The End of My World Is You by T_O_S_T_E, WeepingintheTARDIS (G) (WIP)

If finding the Truth means the end of the Universe… would you still proceed? Something’s Up, and that something is the Second Coming. Although many people - sorry, angels - seem to be involved, there’s only one among them who knows what’s really cooking in the hot oven called ‘the Great Plan’. Although — only one?

Don't Fall Away From Me by PhoenixRose314 (M) (WIP)

if i fall, on that day, i only pray don't fall away from me. What if there was much more to Aziraphale and Crowley's history than Crowley remembers? What if there had been an "our side" even before the Fall? What if Aziraphale's guilt was the only thing keeping them apart for the last six thousand years? And what if the only thing that could pull them back together again was the firm belief of a plucky little angel-turned-human-bookseller that love really does conquer all? Don't Fall Away From Me is a post Season-2 Good Omens fic that rotates perspectives between Muriel, Crowley and Aziraphale.

Are We Meant to Read the Footnotes? by RiaTheDreamer (T) (WIP)

After Aziraphale’s decision, Crowley chooses coffee, not death. Life goes, painfully, on, and Crowley does his best to adapt to his new lonely existence. It hurts. Until it suddenly doesn’t. Someone has opened the Book of Life and erased Aziraphale’s name. Old habits kick in, but how can Crowley save someone whose existence has been destroyed and forgotten?

- Mod D

[topgun-imagines]

Dinner Plans

Requested: yes

Summary: You may have forgotten to mention to your husband that his friend’s were coming over for dinner. What could go wrong?

Word count: 1.0k

Warnings: allusions to smut.

Pairings: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Wife!reader

The smell of fresh biscuits was the first thing that Bob noticed when he stepped into his house. The delectable scent calmed him slightly. He allowed the stress from today’s training to roll off him in waves. With a sigh, his eyes slipped shut as he let his duffel bag thud as it slipped from his fingers. “I’m home Honey!” A few seconds later you rounded the corner with a towel in your hand. Bob relaxed even more as you flashed him a large, warm smile. His arms wound around your waist and he breathed in the comforting scent of your raspberry and vanilla perfume.

He softened like butter when you began to play with the short hairs at the back of his neck. Your husband released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding before he nuzzled his face into your neck. There was a soft smile on your face as he peppered kisses across your skin. “How was your day, Baby?” You whispered, pecking his jaw afterwards.

Bob groaned lightly into your neck causing you to coo quietly. The feel of his arms tightening around your waist sent butterflies into your stomach. You loved that even after years of being together, he could still make you feel as if it were your first date all over again.

Kissing your neck one last time, your husband pulled back. He offered you a tired smile as he slipped his sweater off. “I think I’m going to head out to the garage for a little bit.” You nodded softly, patting his forearm with a gentle smile. He placed a chaste kiss to your cheek before heading off toward the garage.

You moved back into the kitchen, smiling when you heard the familiar sound of your husband's drums fill your home. Your phone chimed in your pocket causing you to jump slightly. Grinning at her text, you quickly sent Phoenix a thumbs up. She and the boys would be here in the next twenty minutes or so.

Your music filled the kitchen once more, drowning out the sound of your husband letting out his frustrations. There were only a few more things that you needed to do to finish off dinner. After checking on the large pot of stew on the stove, you switched off the burner. You moved to set the table, double-checking that there were enough plates for everyone. The last thing you had to do was take the biscuits out of the oven.

Humming quietly along with your music, you moved the stew to the pot holder in the center of the table. After that, you transferred the biscuits onto a larger plate and moved it to the table as well.

It was then that you heard the ringing of the doorbell. The fact that your husband may not have heard it slipped your mind as you headed toward the door. You grinned widely as you opened the door, accepting the hug from Phoenix as she threw her arms around you. Bradley, Jake, Coyote, Fanboy, and Payback all offered you small smiles as they moved into your home. Jake closed the door behind him while you rushed forward with Phoenix, animatedly chatting about the recent gossip at your work.

Everyone gathered around the kitchen, the boys helping themselves to the beers in the fridge. A few seconds later everyone grew silent, focusing on the steady beating of the drums coming from the garage. You watched as the boy's jaws dropped. Phoenix just smirked. Of course she knew that her WSO was an expert at playing the drums.

Rooster turned to you with a shocked look, his eyes darting between you and where the noise was coming from. You could only grin as you lifted one of your shoulders in a shrug. Before you could stop them, every single one of the male aviators began rushing toward your garage causing you and Phoenix to sigh. She rolled her eyes at her friend's childish behaviour. The two of you followed after them, stopping at the door to your garage.

Your husband had a large blue covering his cheeks. When the boys had burst into the room, Bob had instantly stopped drumming. His sticks had clattered onto the ground as he froze in his spot. He wasn’t exactly trying to keep the fact that he could drum from the boys, he just didn’t want to deal with the teasing that he knew would come with them knowing. You offered him a shy smile, watching the blush rise further onto his cheeks as the boys started asking questions.

Bob sighed as he stood up. He answered a few of their questions as he made his way to you. When he reached you he smiled slightly, cocking an eyebrow as he glanced around at his friends. “Sorry honey,” You whispered with a sheepish smile. He only shook his head lightly, pressing a chaste kiss to the apple of your cheek. Phoenix nudged you gently when he pulled back. She shot you a teasing smile as you glared at her.

You rolled your eyes as she snickered quietly. Leading the group to the kitchen, you all sat down around the table and began dishing up. You sat down next to your husband after grabbing a glass of water. Bob set his hand on your thigh and squeezed softly.

The rest of the meal passed relatively easily. Conversation flowed smoothly, everyone seeming to have forgotten what happened in the garage. That was until Jake spoke up from the end of the table. “Why the drums, Baby on Board?” Sighing as the rest of the group laughed quietly, your husband took a bit of his biscuit before responding. His response left everyone gasping quietly before breaking out into laughter. Jake was left with a beet-red blush on his cheeks.

“Well,” He started before sipping on his water. “I figured it would be better to bang something other than my lovely wife to let my frustrations out. Maybe you’ll understand one day, but I don’t wanna break her, Bagman.” Your husband smirked when he was finished. You stared at him with a look of amusement and shock. That definitely was not what you were expecting him to say.

[ohwormwood]

random thoughts i have while playing isat pt. 7

[woe, spoilers be upon ye!]

opened the game and immediately went "im gonna make odile question my sanity!!!" but of course when i enter the house Siffrin decides to turn the scripted tutorial enemy into bean paste and ruins the run--

anyways. this panel will haunt me

i. i dont even know how but. I beat the king without him ever getting a chance to make his first attack. i just kept spamming slow and two jackpots later he was dead. i didn't even knoiw that was possible.

after a bit of fucking around i decided that i was gonna move on to act 5 and promptly burst into tears

update: i accidentally posted this too early dont look at me

sat and cried through the entirety of the party's interactions in act 5

screaming crying throwing up

even the king took one look at this dude and was like "are you good man like, you can take a rest before we do this you're literally about to topple over"

that post where odile says the oven copypasta during the mal du pays scene has permanently altered my brain and i literally laughed out loud when this line appeared

i haven't talked about it before but. a while ago i made a concept for a game based off the backrooms and omori, and odile talking about someone who is forgotten may not exist is the basis for the entire game's plot, it makes me want to go back and flesh it out a bit more!!!

i am deadset on the idea of making an edit with mirabelle's reflection craft but it's an uno reverse card

simultaneously in my brain: an edit where the sound mirabelle's reflection craft makes is the metal pipe meme

i am. such a fucking sucker for sickfics. i cannot get enough of them. act 5 has enough sickfic tropes to make a million spinoff fics on its own, it brings me life and i love it dearly

wailing

this line sends me into orbit every time i see it

odile attacking siffrin. hurts so, so so badly on an emotional level for me. Because like??? i get it. i get it and it sucks and she obviously doesn't want to, but she's scared. But siffrin is even more scared in that moment, and the immediate association of that pain with being hated by odile hurts me so much.

YEAHHHH ODILE GIRLBOSS SUPREME

they're so soft and squishy and cute in this image i c a n t

incoherent WAILING. this. this image. this image just about broke me. THEYRE SO HAPPY and RELIEVED, IT HURTS,,,

the tone shift to talking to the party afterwords is still so funny to me HJBDFBSBFH like lookit him. hes so smol. so silly.

we're kidnapping bonnie guys it's official

my honest reaction to this line: LESBIANS??????

and then she hits me with:

AND I LOST IT

more silly guy siffrin,,,,, my favorite

aaaa aAAAAAAAAAAA

ISABEAU'S SPRITE CHANGING TO BE DOING A HAPPY DANCE AFTER THE CONFESSION IS SOOOOO CUTE WAAA

bonnie and odile clapping for isabeau confessing will never not be funny but ALSO it implies the bonnie knew about Isa's crush. and i for one personally believe that they picked up on it from Odile's relentless teasing of Isabeau as the #1 Isafrin shipper

mirabelle: wait you had a crush on sif?????? and i didn't know????

my roommate, who is ace: this is the aroace experience for real,,,

literally all of the second interactions with Isabeau had me and my roommate SCREAMING

HOWLING LAUGHING

OK I NEVER KNEW???? THAT SIFFRIN TOLD ISABEAU ABOUT THE BAD TOUCH EVENT?????? IN CANON???? I ALWAYS THOUGHT THAT WAS A FANON THING BUT THEY ACTUALLY ADDRESS IT IN GAME AND???? ISA'S REACTION HAD ME ON THE FLOOR

siffrin: i kissed you once,,,,

isa:

the words "im being perfectly normal about this" is something i say on a daily basis so i relate to this wholeheartedly

AYO???????? ISA WHEN DID YOU BECOME SO SMOOTH????

this. this image. made my jaw hit the GODDAMN FLOOR. I WAS NOT MENTALLY PREPARED FOR IT AT ALL AND BOTH ME AND MY ROOMMATE S C R E A M E D WHEN WE SAW IT

LIKE???? HOLY FUCK SIF JESUSSSSSSSSSSS CHRIST???? how did isabeau not implode on the spot from that look bro howwwwwwwwwww

AND THEN. AS IF THAT WASN'T ENOUGH TO MAKE MY HEART START SOBBING. ISA BLOWS YOU A KISS???? AAAA???

annnnd scene!

i will continue playing to get some of the different loop endings and i totally plan on doing two hats in the future!!! so im not quite done with this game yet i just got impatient in act 4 and i needed the Emotional Catharsis of Act 5

[tilbageidanmark]

I may have forgotten to turn off the oven, by Jocelin Carmes

[hopelesslywanderingone]

the dress

I have never been more anxious in my life.  I’ve been thinking about this for months now, but now that I’m finally standing in the middle of my kitchen, smelling the roast cooking in the oven, I can hardly breathe.

When I hear his car pull up, the anxiety comes to a head.  I force myself to walk to the front door, going over what I rehearsed one last time.  

But the second I hear the keys in the door, I find myself pushed up against the back of it, blocking him from opening it any further than the half a foot he already has.

“Baby?  What’s going on, you okay?” He asks.  I can tell how confused, and slightly worried, he is.  I let out a shaky, uncomfortable breath.

“I-” I swallow, taking a deeper breath and laughing again nervously.  “Oh god.  I’m sorry.  I planned a thing and now I’m really re-thinking the thing. Oh god, this is embarrassing.  Just wait outside a minute, maybe I’ll-”

There’s no weight on the other side of the door anymore.  He’s backed off.

“What kind of a thing, baby?”  He asks in that strangely calm voice, like this is a casual day-to-day occurrence.  Like he knew all day that he would have to come home and talk me off a ledge before he could get in the door.

“A- a thing.  A thing for you that I thought you might like but now I feel ridiculous and I think that maybe I’ll just, um, not...”  I trail off, still gripping the door, but not moving.

“I think maybe you should let me make that judgement for myself, don’t you?”  He has stepped back up to the door and nudged it gently towards me now.  “You also know that I most definitely will not think that something you’ve taken the time to do for me is ridiculous.”

I consider this.  That’s true.  What’s the worst that can happen, it doesn’t do it for him like I had hoped?  He’ll still like that I went to the effort to do something like this for him.  And really, he was going to love it.

“Okay,” I say quietly. “Okay, give me a second and then you can come in.”

He steps away from the door again, and I back up to the spot I had imagined myself standing.  I fix my hair and adjust my dress quickly.

“Please come in.”  I say, and slowly he pushes open the door.

He has never been speechless before. Never.  There have been plenty of times where silence stretches on as he contemplates how he wants to say things, where he waits purposefully to let me squirm.  This is not that.  This is pure, unexpected speechlessness. 

I’m nearly giddy.  I can’t stop the grin from spreading across my face as he continues to look me up and then down, over and over again.  Why was I so nervous to do this?  I feel a rush of confidence I didn’t expect.

“May I take your coat?”  I ask, and he’s still so enthralled by my look that he doesn’t notice my little smirk.  That’s probably a good thing.

“You certainly may.”  He says when he finally meets my eyes again.  As he shrugs it from his shoulders and I turn to hang it in the closet, I feel like a bug under a microscope.  He watches me like this often, but now it feels renewed.  A new curiosity, a deep probing gaze.  I turn, my mouth open to ask if I can fix him a drink but I don’t get any of the words out.  

He wraps an arm around my waist and the other hand settles on the back of my neck, pulling me in for a hard kiss.  When he pulls away I am truly one of those girls from the movies, who has forgotten who she is and what she’s doing.  Now he’s smirking down at me as I look up at him, I am sure visibly affected.  The power dynamic has been righted.

“May I- may I fix you a drink?” I ask, mildly breathless and willing the fog of arousal to clear a little from my brain.  

He smiles and brushes a hand along the side of my hair that’s pulled back with the comb.  He nods, leaning down to kiss me softer, and then letting me out of his hold.

I straighten my dress again on the way over to the drink table I’ve set up.  Normally, all the liquor and glasses are shoved into a tiny cabinet at the top of our pantry.  I’ve washed the glasses, arranged three of his favourite liquors, and bought one of those decanters to hold his favourite scotch - the ones that rich men have in their offices, except this one isn’t real crystal.

Still, as I bring him over his tumbler, I can tell that he likes the set up.  When I hand it to him, he wraps his other arm around me and brings me to his side as he takes a drink.

“You look incredible.”  Even as I was hoping for a compliment, I still flush with his words.  

To begin with, it was always jokingly.  I should be a house-wife for Halloween.  Yes, I should wear that yellow skirt with the buttons up the front that looks straight out of the fifties.  Yes, he does like being the provider.  No, he does not want me to help him do the bills (this I tentatively ask one day, praying that ‘no’ will be the answer).  An off-handed comment about trying on that classic-fit dress that all sit-com Moms wore.  

A far less off-handed comment about how he really likes the look of those dresses, and would really like to see me in one.

So, never being one to do things half way, I buy one of the dresses.  It fits like a glove, one of the halter-style ones that a women might wear out on the veranda serving iced beverages.  It’s soft white, with flowers of blues and greens and reds (Sir likes floral print).  I buy a pair of soft blue Mary Jane’s, a little more modern looking, that match the colour of some of the flowers.  I do my hair with that kind of fanned out wave down one side, and pull the other half back behind my ear with an old comb I found at a vintage shop.  I do my make up soft but with a little winged eyeliner and a muted red lipstick.  I have never felt more feminine in my life.  

“It’s hard to decide whether to watch you float around in that, or to take it off you right now.”  I giggle, he looks like he’s legitimately debating.

“I was thinking that you might like to read the paper while I finish setting out dinner.”  I pick up one of the two papers I bought at the store today.  Sir does like to keep up with the news, but we decided it made more sense to just read the articles we wanted to online for the time being, before subscribing in paper to anything. 

“Dinner?”  He raises an eyebrow.  I blush.  This is where I was nervous he’d think I’d gone too far.  Too much a roleplay, too involved.  Maybe I should have done just the dress.

“There’s a roast in the oven.”  I glance towards the kitchen, keeping my eyes from him.  He turns my head back to look at him.

“I look forward to having dinner.  And you.”  Corny as it may sound, it doesn’t when he’s boring a hole into your innermost psyche.  

“I’m all yours after we eat, then.” I hear myself say, but am really just focused on the way his hands have tightened on me and the way he’s looking at me.

“You’re mine until then, too.  You’ve never been more mine than you are right now.” 

[mediocreanomaly]

May we have Vashwood x reader part 3 please?

Authors Note: my poor anon you've been sitting in the box but I shall release you.

Sorry guys! I was super busy and then I put a bunch of work into a DnD Campaign so my creative brain was fried a bit then I got sick and then my hands got messed up from saving my cat from a dog attack and- I'm rambling! Sorry for the long wait is what I mean! Enjoy!

Other Parts Here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 3 (Alt. End)

Vashwood x Reader Soulmate Au Pt.3

No. No absolutely not is your first thought, your second thought being I'm going to kick these idiots ass.

"Are you listening doll face?" The man, who's name is presumably "Nick" says.

It's quiet besides the blood rushing in your ears. Everyone in town is probably asleep or close to it by now and these two just keep watching you like you're supposed to know how to react to this, like this is remotely a normal situation to be in.

"Did we break them? I told you it was too much! You never listen to me" the spikey one pouts. They seem comfortable with each other, you wonder how long they've been together. You suppose it makes sense that if they had found each other first they wouldn't have thought to look for you, having multiple soulmates was rare and considering you did everything in your power to stay out of trouble it tracked that a third soulmate would be nearly undetectable, maybe you should have gotten hurt more often...no that was stupid these two had certainly caused enough pain for the three of you.

"We didn't break them just give them a second they're thinking, Jesus spikey are you the reason they say blondes are dumb?"

"Hey!"

The two men bicker and you notice that they're different in a lot of ways right off the bat. Blonde and black hair, blue and brown eyes, light and tan skin, it almost makes you wonder how you're supposed to play in here. How in the grand scheme of things the universe chose you to stand next to these, frankly, very bizarre (and handsome) men. You need to say something, you need to voice your concerns your hopes your worries-

"I hate you" It's all you can really think to say. In a way it's true and in more ways it's not. Be that as it may with all the emotions flooding through you right now on top of the fact that they've revealed themselves in the most unorthodox way possible it's making it hard to express what you actually feel clearly. Something along the lines of "you two made my life a living hell for such a long time I wanted to kill you but I've matured since then but that doesn't take away the childhood that got stripped from me but I also understand it's most likely not your fault and the fact that there's two of you makes more sense but also gives me 100 more questions-" would probably be more accurate. but "I hate you" is what ends up coming out your mouth.

"You...what?" you flinch. You weren't exactly ready for that to be asked in the most heart shattering tone in the world and when you glance up to see the blonde wears an expression akin to that of a kicked puppy you feel regret creep through your veins.

"Vash they don't mean that, I said mean shit too when we found out" Nick huffs. Ah so the kicked puppy's name is Vash good to know- ah...hang on a moment..

"Vash?" you repeat, "Vash like....like Vash the Stampede?" you say dumbly, but there was no way the man you had nearly made cry from one sentence was the Vash the Stampede that was plastered on every god forsaken wanted poster across Gunsmoke

This catches his attention, the wounded look turning into something more wide eyed like a man who's forgotten to turn off the oven at home.

"We never even introduced ourselves!" he says in alarm, brushing himself off as if it'll cause a redo of the entire situation.

"Needle noggin-" "shh"

Vash scolds the other man whos already patting his breast pocket for another smoke clearly annoyed with how this whole thing is playing out.

"Vash the Stampede and-" Vash nudges Nick who reluctantly adds

"Nicholas D. Wolfwood"

"-at your service! We've been traveling far and wide-"

"Because Spikey always get's chased out-" this earns Nick an elbow in the side which you also wince at when you feel it dig into your own ribs. Vash quickly gives you an apologetic smile but continues.

"-in hopes of finding you! y/n, we're your soulmates!" He finishes with a half hearted wiggle of his fingers and and look that reads "tada?"

You blink dully at them. Yeah that added up. This would be your life wouldn't it? First you are tormented by pain your whole life and now you find out it was because your soulmates were the man with a 1,000,000,000 double dollar bounty on his head and...actually you have no idea who this Nicholas guy is. Considering the cross...Jesus reincarnate? Unlikely but at this point you'd believe anything.

"nuh-uh" it...comes out your mouth before you can stop it.

"nuh-uh? What the fuck do you mean nuh-uh?" Wolfwood gapes pulling his glasses up, yeah...not your best moment.

"I mean, no thank you. Look, I'm sure you're great people- or maybe you aren't I don't know I heard a rumor Vash the Stampede eats babies-" "What?!?! I don't-"

"Besides the point!" you interrupt "Look I didn't ever plan on meeting you, hell I'm not sure I even want to know you. So...I think it'd just be easier if the two of you just..." your sentence dies in your throat the longer they look at you hoping they catch your drift.

"Because we hurt you?" Nick steps a bit closer and you tell yourself it's the soulmate connection currently frying your brain and not the fact this well toned man has his whole chest out right now.

"N-No, well maybe? It's complicated" you had never planned on meeting your soulmate- or soulmates but in hindsight a bit of practice of what you were going to say might have been smart.

"We don't have to leave yet, we can stay- just so you get used to us! We aren't that bad...promise" Vash offers and damn those critically effective puppy dog eyes he uses as he moves to get a bit closer too.

"It's not that I think you're bad, it's just...I mean I hardly know you" you try, you already know it won't work. Despite not knowing them you can tell they seem the hard headed type.

"We're soulmates" Nick counters lazily as if you're the one being irrational.

"I- I don't know, I'm cleaning up here and-" "we can help!" the eager blond insist, with another step closer.

"you really don't have to-" "it's the least we can do, we owe ya don't we?" Nick muses, again another step.

"Well I wouldn't say that, I'm sure it wasn't your fault-" "Maybe, maybe not but we've been looking for you for a long time" You notice Vash has a beauty mark right under his eye there's a weird urge to reach out and trace it.

"Looking for me?" you ask

"Mhmm, since we caused you a lifetime of distress I'm sure, blessed are the merciful and all that, it's your turn to receive a little mercy" ignoring the awful half bible quote Nick's smell is invading your nose, like smoke, cedarwood and-

You aren't 100% sure how it happens, all you know is you're sandwiched between the two men. It was a trap for sure, moving in ever so carfully like they were herding a scared animal. This should alarm you, two men you've just meet keeping you in place, but for some reason a warmth spreads across you. It's like seeing an old friend or coming home for holidays, a certain sort of familiarity and safeness despite not knowing much about the two at all.

"You can feel it can't you?" Vash coos down at you, using his flesh hand to tilt your head up to meet his face, stark blue eyes deeper than the ocean gaze down at you and god when did he take those glasses off?

"It was weird the first time we met too, but it feels good though right?" Nicks voice makes you shiver as his mouth ghost over your ear, hands coming to settle at your hips.

"It feels.." your eyes flutter "Like home" the three of you say in sync, Vash and Nick chuckle as if this was a predictable response but something tells you they must've said the same cheesy line when they first met.

"We don't want to hurt you anymore" Vash's other hand rubs soft circles against your ribs and you feel the sudden urge to melt into the two of them.

"We've been thinking...that we should balance it out." Vash hums as Nick works on nipping at your ear

"Balance it out?" You almost don't recognize your own voice with how breathy it ends up coming out. They really shouldn't be having this effect on you, you should be yelling, or scolding them- no you'd definitely scold them later that was still on the table but...right now seemed like a bad time.

"yeah sweetheart, pleasure for pain right?" Nick chuckles in your ear, deep and gravely whether it's from lust or the cigarette he just put out you aren't sure.

"So?" he continues, "What do you say?" you feel Vash kiss at the corner of your mouth and Nicks hot breath against your neck

"Let us show you how good we can make you feel instead?"

[cain-speaks]

🍭 𝙎𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝙏𝙊𝙊𝙏𝙃 🍭 || Macaque x Reader Oneshot

» sweet tooth (cavetown) « 0:45 ─〇───── 4:07

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ AUTHOR'S NOTE ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝ ➤ This is a oneshot. ➤ This is romantic. ➤ Reader uses she/her and is a cat demon, so she has cat-like features/behaviors! ➤ Described the clothes but tried to keep it simple/vague so ppl could add more details if they'd like! ➤ BRO THIS TOOK SO LONG I'M SORRY. I kinda lost the plot a few times I think,, and I got super into the shadow story,, hope this is good!! Also sorry if I switched tenses at some point, it happens rip. Also also if the kiss scene is bad I'm so sorry, I'm awkward asf LMAO. ➤ TRIGGER WARNINGS include profanity, a little bit of angst, referenced toxicity, and referenced murder. ➤ Word count: 3,494

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

❝ A sweet tooth for you, I'm wide awake .❞

Your tail vibrates excitedly as the timer goes off, alerting you that the mango pudding is done chilling. Grinning widely, you almost run to your fridge, throwing open the door and crouching to pull the cool dessert out. You take a deep whiff as you wander back to the counter, shutting the fridge door with a bump of your hip. It smells heavily, and an experimental shake of the pan leads you to believe the sweet treat has successfully set.

You set down the mango pudding and turn to the dishes, rinsing them in the sink and leaving them in the basin to be thoroughly cleaned later. As you scratch a particularly stubborn splash of dried pudding from the whisk, you look over at your oven, squinting to read the numbers displayed.

5:47.

"Oh, cow-milk," you hiss under your breath, finishing up with the whisk and nearly tossing it into the basin.

I'm going to be late! you fret as you pull off your apron, throwing it upon the counter as you rush to your bedroom to pull on your outfit: a simple white turtleneck under a soft long-sleeve and high-waisted plaid pants, complemented with long socks and short, buckled heels. Once you finish with your outfit and additional accessories, you grab a basket on your way out of your room and quickly fill it with cutlery, cubed mangoes, sugar, and of course, the pudding.

You pause for a second, ears flicking about as you try to make sure you haven't forgotten anything. Your time is cut short as another alarm sings on your phone, titled Get The Fudge to Mac's!

You squeak, shoving your phone into your pocket and spinning on your heel as you race out of your home, narrowly keeping the basket from slapping against your side.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You're fairly certain the only reason Macaque doesn't snap at you slamming the dojo doors is because he heard you coming.

He's curled up on his couch, a hefty book in his lap—probably about something medicinal or floral if you had to guess. Your eyes flicker to his face, scowling as you see his signature smirk, golden-brown eyes scanning your hunched-over figure in amusement.

"Look what the cat dragged in," purrs the demon.

"You—hah—think you're soooo funny," you grit out, shuffling to the couch with a glare.

"When have I ever been wrong?" Macaque asks.

The monkey slaps his tail across your face before you can recite the "a" portion of your alphabetized list.

"How come you're so late today?" he teases. "Normally you're here before I am."

You roll your eyes and give a half-hearted bite to the demon's tail, barely grazing the fur, but he pulls it away with a narrowed gaze anyway. You give him a dramatically sweet face, fluttering your lashes as you set your basket on the table.

You make a lazy gesture at it. "I made something for us."

"Oh?" Macaque asks, cocking an eyebrow. "How romantic, starlight."

For a split second, you consider letting your embarrassment at the implication get to you. But then you decide if Macaque wants to be a little evil, you may as well join him.

"Only the best for you, moonflower," you coo back, revelling in the way the black-furred monkey's face heats up around his spiked mask. You immediately laugh at his blush, far more elated at your ability to fluster the stoic demon than you think is normal, adoring the way his ears wiggle as though trying to hide his face.

"Laugh it up, kitty," he grumbles, reaching out for the basket.

You lunge forward and smack his hand before his claw tips so much as brush the handles. "Nu-uh! That's for after dinner, loser."

Macaque frowns and squints at you, shaking his hand and blowing on it in classic dramatic theater kid fashion. "What are you, five?"

"Out of five~!" You sing-song, scooping up the basket as you jump to your feet. "Now get cooking, Macaroni."

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

When Macaque announces the food's almost done, you decide to raid his wardrobe for pajamas.

You zoom up the stairs before he can say a word, but to your surprise, he doesn't make so much as a sigh as your thundering footsteps fade into his room.

It's weird. Normally Macaque always whines about you snagging his clothes, complaining about the pastry stains or endless amounts of cat hair that ends up on them—which is a small price to pay when you're constantly making him yummy treats! But tonight he's oddly quiet.

Come to think of it... he's been acting off for a while.

You noticed it last month. Your time spent with the monkey had turned more physical—training, teaching you how to make certain foods, dancing, cuddling. And amongst his standard sarcasm and snark, he was complimenting you a lot more, too. You'd even started finding little trinkets around your house! So unless some other purple-coded weirdo was breaking into your house to leave you jewelry and pretty flowers, it had to be Macaque.

But on the other hand, Macaque seemed to be... distancing himself. A canceled plan here and there, an excuse to leave the room every now and then, a strange new sense of secrecy within the demon, as though he was guarding something from you. As if he was afraid of you coming too close all over again.

It was so confusing. If you allowed yourself to consider that the demon had fallen for you of all people, what were you supposed to make of his behavior? That he hated the idea of loving you so much that he was deciding between making a game of it or completely pushing you away?

The thought strikes you right in the chest, your bottom lip falling victim to your sharp teeth.

Just recently you'd come to terms with just how much you really like the monkey—how much you love the sound of his voice and the way he drags you into trouble and his devotedness to you as a friend. It'd been an earth-shattering realization, really, one that left you tossing and turning in bed and damn near ripping your fur out.

How could you be blamed? Macaque was hardened like stone in the aftermath of his past, resulting in a closed-off and apathetic creature, a lone wolf in spite of his nature. It'd taken so, so much time and patience to get to where you two were now, laughing and poking fun at each other in his dojo, his safespace.

The last thing you want is to lose everything because your silly heart loves tragedies.

"Starlight!" Macaque's sharp call comes from downstairs, making you jump. "The hell are you doing? I said dinner's done!"

"Ack—I'm coming, just a minute!"

You quickly throw on a loose shirt and shorts, struggling a bit with the hole for your tail before finally settling the limb and bounding out of the room. Immediately, an aroma of deliciousness hits your nose. You almost stumble down the stairs due to the distraction, righting yourself with an embarrassed flush (boy, are you glad Macaque didn't see that) and carefully making your way into the kitchen.

Your eyes widen at what you see. A large bowl of chǎofàn sits at the table, neighbored by a plate of tángcù lǐjǐ and another of xiǎolóngbāo. The scent is divine, and you would call the meal a gift from Buddha if it weren't for the smirking demon leaning against the counter.

"Like what you see?" he asks cockily, tail sweeping against the ground in a lazy sway.

"No way you just made all of this!" you exclaim, grinning.

"Maybe I'm just that good," replies the black-furred monkey with a wink, fetching two plates and some silverware out of various cupboards and drawers.

"Not that good," you snort, grabbing your basket from the fridge. "Come on, what's the trick this time, moonflower?"

The demon falls strangely silent at your question. You raise an eyebrow at his back, waiting for a response. Finally, in an uncharacteristically small voice, Macaque says, "I've been preparing."

There's more to it. There's definitely more to it, but you won't push.

You set the basket down on the floor and take the plate held out to you, happily filling it up before moving to your seat. Macaque joins you on the opposite side, silent save for the short scraping sound of silverware against glass. The uncomfortable silence threatens to spoil your appetite, and you spend a few quiet minutes praying that the demon across from you will say something.

"Is it good?"

Thank Buddha, you think, immediately put at ease to hear his voice.

"Duh," you say, swallowing another forkful of delicious food. "Your cooking is some of the best I've ever had."

"Oh really?" Macaque leans forward on his elbows, hands laced under his chin, and you feel your face warm ever-so-slightly. "Then where do I rank, starlight?"

"Top ten at least," you tease, reaching for more chǎofàn. Macaque unlaces a hand to pick up the bowl and pass it to you.

"At least," he chuckles. "Well, eat up. I have a play to put on."

"A play?" You repeat, cheeks round with rice.

Macaque nods. "Yes." Quickly, he adds, "for you."

You very nearly make a quip about the romance of dinner and a show, but seeing his tail tense and thud against the floor makes you reconsider.

Instead, you smile. "I'll be there."

The monkey snorts. "Better be. If you stand me up for rice and chicken, I'll never make it again."

You fake an angry grumble. "Don't you have to go prepare, smart guy?"

He blinks. Once. Twice.

"Oh," he says, simply at first. Then his eyes widen. "Oh, yes! I have to—there are things I have to—I'm going now." Macaque cuts his rambling short and just barely avoids sprinting out of the kitchen like his tail is on fire.

"Don't—" you cringe at the sound of something falling, followed by a quiet yelp. "—hurt yourself on the way out..."

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You sit amongst soft blankets and pillows, tails curled around your knees as you wait for the play to start. The light of Macaque's lantern bathes the dojo in a violet hue, shadows dancing with the sway of the lantern as Macaque gets into position. The monkey's innate shadow powers and connection to the lantern make it easy to manipulate it and the dark for his purposes, so part of you is confused that Macaque settles himself so far away from you. You reason that maybe the demon's just feeling extra dramatic for this story.

Or maybe this is it, you think.

Even if you don't know what that means.

"Welcome viewer, to a shadow play the likes of which have never been seen."

You smile at the signature opening line, a soft purr rumbling in your throat as you listen closely, ears perked in Macaque's direction.

"Here we follow another tale about the tragic Warrior." Macaque's voice reverberates around you, and you watch as a simplified silhouette of hi—ahem, "the warrior" manifests from the shadows. "Though this story is unlike the others—for instead of our Warrior bearing yet another arduous chapter of life, perhaps he has found his happy end.

"Everyone knows the tale of how the Sun came to betray the Moon. But what very few have to come to learn is that it was the moon that brought on such a tragedy. You see, many centuries ago, the Moon could only see their dark side—blemished, indecipherable, and lacking in light. So often the moon thought of their dark side and wept, believing that if it was all they saw, it was all anyone could see. And then the Moon realized something. They were the Sun's only companion, their only friend, so surely, surely, the Sun would give their light to them.

"And at first, the Sun did everything they could to show the Moon just how bright they could be. The Sun taught the Moon everything they knew, and the Moon took that knowledge and taught it to others, becoming a beloved warrior. And when the Moon became the Warrior, they changed the Sun into a Hero—a well-shaped, perfect vessel of holiness and goodness.

"The Sun allowed for this because they loved the Warrior, so they locked themselves within the Hero. And while the Warrior loved the Hero very much, they were so blinded by the love of their light that they didn't see what they were doing to their beloved Sun.

"Years passed and the Warrior had taken almost every bit of sunlight. Only their heart and a small sliver remained, which the Sun branded on to the Hero's golden cudgel and hid beneath stone so the Warrior could not find it. This angered the Warrior, who still could not see what they'd done to the Sun, for they were so hidden within the Hero. He said, "my hero! Why do you hide your light from me? Is it not mine, too? Have I not helped you shine?"

"The Hero replied, "I hide nothing from you, my Warrior, certainly not our light. I simply have no more to give you."

"The Warrior was displeased, and this displeasure, coupled with the dimming Sun, poisoned their light until nothing remained but a thin halo around the two of them.

"This terrified the Warrior—to see that they were so close to becoming the Moon again, so close to being consumed by their dark side, that they demanded the Hero give them their heart. Only this time, the Hero refused.

""You are not a hero," spat the Warrior. "And you are no longer a warrior," whispered the Hero. The Warrior was so angry, so enraged, that they attempted to swallow the Sun itself. They peeled away the Hero's stone body to reveal the blazing heart beneath, fully intent to rob them of every last bit of light they had, even if it meant they'd never shine again.

"The Sun broke free of the Hero's perfect body, and, using the light on the golden cudgel, banished the Warrior to a place of no light. No stars. No song. Only darkness.

"A place where the Warrior and the Moon would blend in perfectly."

While you've never heard the story portrayed this way, you find it heartbreakingly easy to tell he's talking about his death and descent into Diyu. You fiddle with your hands, pressing on the paw pads as you stare, watching the Warrior turn into wisps as a glowing mass of shadows (the Sun?) forms into a tendril and strikes them.

It's almost too much to watch, your brain caught up in what preceded Macaque's death. Is this why he's been so nervous? It would make sense—the version of the tale makes him vulnerable to say the least, and it's oozing with painful, regretful honesty. Macaque may not be a liar, but the truth has never been easy for him.

The scene changes, shifting in a quick montage.

"For centuries, the Warrior rotted in their anger and sorrow. So angry were they that they allowed themselves to be hung from strings like a simple puppet, used as a weapon to harm undeserving victims."

Flashes of burned and otherwise destroyed villages wrap around the dojo, all with a chained Macaque hovering above, eyes burning. The last image you recognize as the Monkie Kid and his group. A shadowy tendril wraps around the kid's limbs, attached to him in a similar way to Macaque's chains. Your stomach twists.

"Even when the Warrior finally forgoed their wrath and reconciled with the Sun, they still could not find it in them to shine. They'd ruined the Moon many years ago, and now the Warrior was ruined, too.

"...or so they thought. One day, the Warrior came across a maiden. She was gentle and wild, comforting and unapologetic, unwavering and bold. She was a river, a storm, a mountain who stood unblinking before the weight of the Warrior's darkness.

"The Warrior thought they were doomed to break her, as they so often did to strong things. But then the Maiden produced a mooncake from her robes, split it in half, and said, "Would you share this treat with me, O' weary Warrior?""

A feminine silhouette appears before the Warrior, dressed in a flowing hanfu and flowers. Most interestingly, the Maiden has tufted ears and a long, fluffy tail just like—

Your face erupts in a shocked blush as understanding dawns on you. The first time you met Macaque, you'd been out selling mooncakes. It'd been a good day, and by the end you had a single treat left, which you fully intended to scarf down while watching the sun set. But then you'd seen Macaque, leaning against a bridge and watching the reflection of the sun in the river, and he just looked so sad, you thought a mooncake would add a little brightness to his face.

A pity cake it might have been, but you think it was one of the best pity cakes you've ever had.

"The Warrior took the Maiden's gift. Together, the two ate at their cakes until they were naught but crumbs and the sun had long set. Before they parted, the Maiden smiled at the Warrior.

"And the Warrior glowed.

"The Warrior glowed so bright that moonlight shown through the cracks in their skin, that stars came down to twinkle in their fur and they could hear the sweetest dreams whispering in their ears, and all they said was "Mooncake Maiden" over and over again, for the Warrior had finally found someone to glow for, not because of."

You almost bust out laughing, a mix of adoration, shock, and amusement bubbling in your chest. "Mooncake Maiden", huh? Maybe you should start a business.

"For weeks, the Warrior and the Maiden continued to meet. The Warrior continued to glow, feeling more and more like the great warrior they once were. They even began to think of themselves as the moon again, not as an imperfect surface, but as a new vast and complicated world, one they wanted to explore by the side of the Maiden. All they had to do was ask her."

The shadows merge into a single ball, gliding towards you and settling before you. The ball reforms, revealing Macaque kneeling in front of you, your hands held gently in his. But what really catches your eye is his glamor—or lack thereof. His six ears, the reason for his namesake, unfurl from his head like flower petals, glowing shades of blue, pink, and purple that illuminate both of your faces. His fangs elongate past his bottom lip and a white halo of fur surrounds his face, shimmering in the gentle light.

His eye, blind though it may be, is milky and spotted like the bright side of the moon and you can't help but think it's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen.

"And now to discover how this story ends," he says softly.

"Macaque—" you begin, only to fall silent when he squeezes your hands.

"I know I'm not a hero," Macaque says. "I think I might always be a little evil—a trickster, a bit of a thief, a bully every now and then; a shadow of something good. But you make me feel... real. Like I can be something more, something people can love and adore without getting hurt, and I haven't felt that in a long, long time, starlight."

You blink, feeling something wet tease the corner of your eyes. Your heart thumps in your chest, tail unfurling from your knees and reaching out. Macaque meets it halfway and they curl around each other like ribbons.

"I love you," whispers the Six-Eared Macaque. Louder, he says it again, and you shiver when he says your name. "I love you, and if you'll have me, I'll be yours for eternity."

Your mouth feels dry, your body nearly numb with—what, shock? Excitement? Happiness? Exhaustion because you're feeling all the things? Probably.

But still, your heart swells at the confession and your hands slip from his to cradle his face and you say, "I love you too, Macaque."

Macaque grins, eyes shining wetly. His hands go to your cheeks, thumbs brushing under your eyes. His ears flap against your hands for a second, and then he whispers, "can I kiss you?"

Your heart nearly explodes. But you give nothing away as you utter a soft, "yes."

You're not quite sure what to expect when his lips meet yours. Fireworks, or maybe like a puzzle piece is shifting into place. You think you can safely say you feel neither, but you do feel both of your growing smiles, until you're pulling away to laugh and Macaque follows suit.

When your giggles die down, you pet the demon's ears again. "You wanna have dessert now?"

The black-furred monkey huffs, leaning into your touch. "In a minute," he murmurs, and then he's bringing you back to his lips.

❝ I like you—say it back .❞

[banannabethchase]

HangMatt, Matt learned how to make Hanger's favourite cookies

Cookies and a Cloche

~

He should have known something was up by the fact that Matt didn’t meet him at the door like usual. He was sure he should have seen something coming once the haze of the house’s air gets him in the face as he opens the door. Adam coughs as he walks into the house. “The fuck are you doing to my kitchen?!”

“Nothing,” Matt yells. “We’re good.” There’s a clattering sound.

“We definitely fucking aren’t!” Adam grabs a blanket from the couch and begins wildly fanning it at the smoke alarm to make it stop going berserk. “What are you making?!”

“Cookies!”

“Charcoal cookies?”

Matt stomps out from the kitchen with a surprisingly picturesque plate of cookies. “Normal cookies, you dick! I made the snickerdoodles you were lusting after in the bakery the other day.”

Adam blinks. “Lusting after?”

Matt rolls his eyes and goes to the bathroom to flip on the fan, and soon the smoke starts to clear. Finally, the alarm stops screaming, and Adam can relax. “Okay, you have to tell me what the fuck just happened here.”

Matt adjusts the cookies on the counter. “I made your favorite cookies.” He picks one up and offers it to Adam, who takes a hesitant bite. They’re magnificent. “Holy shit. These are good.” They’re hot, clearly recently out of the oven, but they’re really good.

“I know they’re good!” Matt says. He smiles, looking very proud of himself for a guy who almost burnt a house down.

“If these,” Adam says, grabbing another cookie, “are this good, then how the hell did you burn them so badly?”

“I didn’t burn them,” Matt says.

Adam raises an eyebrow. “So the smoke was a performance aspect?”

“The smoke was a towel.”

Adam pauses in the middle of taking another bite. “What?”

“A towel.”

“No, I got that.” He decides to shove the cookie in his mouth before he asks his next question. There’s a very good chance this is going to come out very bitchy. He chews while Matt looks at him.

“Okay, look,” Matt says. “I was taking the cookies out and I think I got too excited about them, because the towel I was using as a potholder got stuck.”

“Stuck?”

Matt nods. “I didn’t – okay, I may have forgotten to turn the oven off, too.” He smiles, eyes flickering. “But I got the towel under control! It was just a little flame.”

“No burns, right?” Adam asks. He reaches out and takes Matt’s hands, turning them over to check. “I don’t see anything.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Matt says. He doesn’t move his hands. “I was able to put out the fire with a cloche.”

“A – what?”

“A cloche.” Matt picks up the object and a puff of smoke erupts out of it. “Oops.” The fire alarm starts screaming again. “I’ll fix it!”

[erraticpigeon]

hi!! can you please write anything christmasy with jake peralta from b99? maybe baking christmas cookies or building a gingerbread house. thank you! <3

of course! f!reader x jake peralta

jake baking gingerbread cookies with you

”Babe, what on earth-”

As you walked into the kitchen, an interesting scene greeted you. Jake Peralta, star detective, was standing by the oven and sighing. Now, as normal as that may seem, it sure wasn’t, as he was covered from head to toe with white flour. As he heard you enter the room, he turned around quickly.

“Crap- Hello, my love! I was just.. baking.”

He switched to a posh british accent as he put on his best innocent smile. The action crinkled his face and made some flour fall from his nose, causing him to sneeze.

“I can see that.. what were you-“

Your lips strained as you tried to decide between scolding him and bursting out laughing.

“Gingerbread. It didn’t turn out great..”

Jake dropped the accent and rubbed his neck. Behind him, you could spot a tray of the most burnt gingerbread cookies you’d ever seen. They were so burnt they might’ve crumbled if you looked at them for too long.

“Mhm.. I think you might’ve forgotten the flour.”

You teased with a big smirk on your face. Jake’s mouth opened as he pretended to be offended.

“Ohh, that’s what we’re doing now? I’m not a baker!! And also..”

He raised an eyebrow and pointed to the menorah in the window behind him as he took a step towards you, as you took a step back. You were worried for a second, before you saw the grin he was trying so hard to hide.

”But how do you get flour.. everywhere?”

“Well that must be cause I saved it for you!”

He jumped towards you and entangled you in a hug, making flour fly off of him and paint your previously clean work clothes a powdery white.

His finger found your sides with ease, and you two pretended to wrestle as flour flew around the two of you. If it had been snow, and this had been a christmas movie, it would’ve been romantic. But it wasn’t, and you soon found yourself sneezing so much you were practically forced to clean up the mess.

As you wiped the counter, you told Jake about your day at work, and he told you about his day off. You bantered and joked and every time he laughed it was like a candle was lit inside you.

When you were finished, you gave you boyfriend a nice, long kiss. His arms were around your waist and yours were around his neck, and you could feel him smile more and more as the kiss progressed. Finally, you pulled back and looked at him.

“Do you wanna make some gingerbread together?”

“I’d like that very much, babe.”

After two hours, both the counter and kitchen table were cluttered with trays after trays of beautiful, golden brown cookies.

The two of you of you finally stepped back, and Jake placed his arm around you as you admired your work.

“Promise me never to bake by yourself again?”

“Only if you promise we do it together more often.”

“Deal.”

You laughed as you hugged him tight. He also laughed, before taking your chin in his hand and looking at you.

“Do you wanna decorate them?”

“We can do that tomorrow, we both have the day off anyway.”

“So what do you wanna do?”

He asked with a playful grin and a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Sleep, Jacob. It’s one in the morning.”

He laughed loudly as you walked away to the bedroom through your decorated apartment.

You and Jake ended up falling asleep in each others arms as big, white snowflakes had started falling on a sleeping Brooklyn.

Navigation

[kossamer]

[WARP TO... If Darth Thanaton accepted Pyrrhous as his new apprentice] (NOT CANON!)

-

"Fall back, master, and I will handle this."

"You will, Kallig, and then you will triumph over all."

I genuinely thought that Pyrrhous' and Thanaton's personalities and values would click, and Thanaton would be one of the best masters for him. They will share much common ground on following traditions and forbidden knowledge.

However, his constitution will drop as certain rites of the dark side drains his lifeforce. He would also have episodes of temperament and paranoia, to the point where his brother would not (or wouldnt want to) recognise him.

Thanaton would hold nothing back when teaching him (as should any sith, he thinks), and in some ways he sees him as a son he never had. But not the "lets play baseball together" type, the "fall behind and you die" type. While he mildly relishes the thought of his prized apprentice in a dark council seat next to him, he is also fully prepared to strike him down when Pyrrhous inevitably turns against him one day.

-

Note: this was my first piece after my art block 😀 im really proud of it, but my poor cake loving boy 🥲 he'd probably forget how to turn on an oven

Late post because Im back home for the month! I may post a bit less or respond later. I reached 50 followers on instagram and I said therell be a thing for it, which i havent forgotten 👍