#confectionary making

[sodapop--stims]

Pusheen Pool Party Merengues

source

Please credit if you use my gifs!

[bambisnc]

"my sleep paralysis demon will be hearing about this" ₊˚.

in which you have developed an honestly rather strange penchant for referring to a sleep paralysis demon in any and all conversations you can and then one fine day a gorgeous, alluringly gentle looking being (with an air of something dark around him.. or maybe that's just your overthinking..) appears in front of you, introducing himself as haechan, clearly pissed off at you name dropping him way too much. and now his bosses (???) are after him because he obviously did not do a great job at sleep paralysis demon duties but it was only because he actually liked you too much to act full demon in front of you okay??!! sigh is this where being nice gets him ...

he may end up convincing you to fake date him so he can justify to his bosses (ty/jh/dy) why he hadnt gone full sleep paralysis demon on you but obviously it cannot escalate more,, can it?!

+ [m.list]

[omppupiiras]

@bisonaari aaa i couldn't stop thinking about your lil corn pea käärijä sculpture so i had to make one too!! 😁 my son 🥺

[bright-knight-star-light]

Text message!

SENT 19:40 -

♡ Baby Salad ♡: Art

♡ Baby Salad ♡: Arrttt

♡ Baby Salad ♡: Could you call me??? I need help with making stufffff

Me: Uhhh

Me: Yeah sure??? I mean I dont got stuff to do rn

Me: Tez has a timetable for next week for me lolol

Me: Okay!! I'll join now just tell me what u need :]

[mushroommanchanterelle]

It's very ugly, but I'm starting to make candy again. This is my first batch of honeycomb candy! Would anyone be opposed to me posting cooking stuff, or should I make a new blog for that?

[thethingything]

trying to buy some pasteurised honey and everything that comes up when you search that is either "here's the difference between raw and pasteurised honey" or "here's why we never pasteurise our honey. our raw honey is so much better than any of that pasteurised stuff" and like yes I know raw honey is amazing and I would love to eat it but our body flips its shit if I have any kind of encounter with pollen so if I could just find some of the pasteurised stuff that'd be great thanks.

on a slightly funnier note though I now know where I could theoretically buy a 3.5kg bucket of raw wildflower honey if I wanted to

[keeps-ache]

heart cake !!! i have a little pink heart cake :DD

[cosmoswandas]

It snowed a little bit today! All the plants and flowers are going to sleep for the winter, and they're getting a blanket of powdery snow to tuck them in!

[aesadraws]

Been playing a minecraft modlist focused on the Create mod and I can feel the spirit of industrialism taking over my brain. Can't focus on my writing bc I kept thinking about the best method of transporting melons from my farm into the warehouse.

[the-commonplace-book]

fucked up my first ever batch of macarons beyond repair, but as my roommate said, "Are they really homemmade macarons if you don't fuck them up a little?"

[foldingfittedsheets]

My friend @supernovasolace has been sharing some stories from their partner G’s eating habits and each one is funnier than the last so I finally begged permission to write about it and they both agreed. His actual permission was: “I want you to make whatever art your heart desires. Get as weird with it as you want, give me a fever dream.” This man is so much funnier than I could ever be.

The first story shared with me was fairly innocuous. The couple likes to split up who gets the last crumblies in bags of treats. If they polish off a thing of chocolates one of them gets to tip the bag back and inhale the ghostly whispers of flavor left in the container.

But the item in question was one of those tubs of chocolate salted caramels from Costco.

“Can I finish this?” He asked.

“Go nuts,” they said.

It’s worth noting that N knew this was a terrible idea but it didn’t occur to them to warn him. They simply accepted that their partner wanted to take a face full of sea salt.

He threw back the container and was immediately assaulted get it with the massive granules of salt instead of the chocolate dust he’d been hoping for.

He coughed and choked while N started laughing hysterically and realized a moment too late that he didn’t think about the contents before tossing it back.

But today they shared another story. They were settled up in bed. He was making eye contact with N when he popped a catnip Greenie treat into his mouth. The horror, they informed me, was instantaneous.

“Worse than the caramel salt?” I asked.

“So much worse. Because he did this in a bizarre power play and committed way too hard to the bit.”

When I asked his motivation the sum of it was that he’d been compelled by forces outside his control. He simply obeyed the exhortations of his soul. As a result he stared into his partners soul as tears and regret filled his eyes with each crunch.

The best thing though was that apparently one day N came home to find G in the workshop. He was crouched over an array of M&M’s like a mad scientist, X-acto knife in hand. But he only had green and yellow on his operating table. He was carefully cutting each color in half and sticking yellow to green in a freakish Frankenstein of green and yellow candy coating.

According to N it was a not insignificant number of candies that had been surgically spliced together, an assembly line of confectionary madness.

When they asked what he was doing he informed them he was, “Making Sprite flavor.”

[acid-ixx]

do i look like him?

— just another series concept. please note that talia sexually assaulting bruce is retconned in whatever portrayal i have of her. i will not tolerate any racist or sexist remarks towards her character for a mischaracterized version of her, written by some gooner.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

i don't know if anybody would be interested in a certain premise i'm planning. taylor's song, "like him" is resonating off of my body, and i've a draft written inspired off of the song featuring yandere batfam x damian's twin! reader x yandere! al ghul family.

wherein instead of being neglected, you're treated like royalty by your own family. your twin is subjected to the cruelty of being raised as an assassin. you're met with scarred hands, nicked back, and calloused skin every time he comes back from your shared room after another particularly harsh training. yet every time you worry for your older twin, he'd silence you with the same bloodied hands that handled bodies like ragdolls, gently like it has never killed, with hushed promises whispered by your ear that "this is necessary for your protection, akhi/akhti."

at first you'd be convinced that this family lifestyle is normal. your mother is doting, she is kind, she is where you learned the word mercy; unlike the fierce image she displays in public. you're often spoiled rotten with her favorite shades of clothes, and her teachings emanate within you a deep sense of loving for animals. you never truly see her cruelty for other humans, as she often makes you sit by her lap upon a seat you call a throne when you were all but a mere five year old, playing with your hair, muttering affirmations and cradling you on her chest every time you ponder too deeply about the word, 'father'.

a word you'd read from those fairytales by the library, a word you craved to know, a word forbidden to be stated by everybody within your castle-like home.

she'll call upon your brother every time your curiosity gets the best of you, and the duo would try their best to sway your attention away with playtime. either it'd be stories, or damian showing you new tricks he'd learn from masters long overthrown by your twin, or it would be as simple as talia dragging both her beloved children to the huge kitchen, demanding the head chefs to bake you and your brother's favorite dessert (a little moment to spoil your brother after a hard-earned day of training, even if damian isn't always fond of sweet confectionaries; your grin would always tempt him to take a bite of your food if it means spending a day being himself).

it seems even damian plays along with the sick fantasy of not acknowledging the possibility of an alive father figure to you. not like you'd be aware of it, too caught up with your grandfather teaching you about rare species' on the verge of extinction, his (rarely) soft gaze fixed on the way your small body would gently pat the face of his wolf companion, or your brother constantly vying for you, his younger twin's, attention, eliminating all possible rivals who could potentially act as your future playmate that only he has the privilege for, or how your mother seeks you, her youngest baby, out, for a day of rest after another mission, doting smooches on your face, her lipstick smearing all over the soft chub of your cheeks, dismissing your pouts

a perfect family, with not much left to desire for your part.

so why is it that talia would often hear damian complain about your sudden fixation about a father figure? you'd mumble, something about one of your servants who mentioned visiting her father for vacation, a man who works as a merchant for his family; you asked them what your father's job was, what his name was, "why isn't he here at the family dinner?"

you asked, with wide, pitiful eyes, a feature long foreign for hardened assassins, but associated only with you. a quality nobody in the league dares to criticize; your gentleness the only thing keeping their leaders sane, keeping most servants alive as you find precious each and every single living being; not exclusive to animals or plants, but to humans too.

you're the league's only hope for reprieve, for softness in the moments of emboldened duties and priorities. you're the fingers that caress on calloused skin and the lips that kiss bloody scars. the hearth that warms even the coldest of hearts.

which was why nobody attempted to answer you, no matter how much it breaks your heart; because nobody wanted to ruin your soft and kind heart, or see the sullen droop in your eyes, or red, sniffling nose.

yet once ra's heard the confession of you being aware of what a father is like through the mouth of your servant, he'd immediately demanded another assassin to eliminate whoever dared mentioned such preposterous concepts to his grandchild.

throughout their rage, throughout damian nuzzling his head on the crown of your, muttering that whatever his baby sibling is sputtering is nonsensical, mere fantasy, arms encasing your entire body. he'd cradle you, run his hands against your hair even with furrowed, always angered brows; all the same questions lingered in the back of their minds:

is your current family not enough? why is it that the more you grow, the more you... wear the same expression of stubbornness, a quality your mother is sure you've adopted from you... father.

she may not be the best mother, taking both you and damian away from the arms of bruce wayne after she had learned about her pregnancy after a night spent together with the man, but she did it for the sake of her children; for your future, too.

bruce wayne will not be a good influence to you. if he tries so much to subject you into becoming another one of his robins, destroying your innocence, your perception of the world into a bleak portrayal of lackluster colors— ra's wouldn't hesitate to destroy the entirety of bruce's home.

and the manor is nothing! nothing, mind you, compared to the castle you call your home. only you deserve the richest of the rich, the shiniest jewels and the best treatment in the world. what more can gotham offer you? what more, if not for broken bones and bruised knees?

and so they settled upon ruining your perception of your father, with no known face to be plastered upon your memory, no known source, or picture— at such an early age.

if you yearn so much for a father, why not paint the image as dark as the cowl he wears?

why don't they feed you lies about him never wanting you and your twin in the first place? you'll be given opportunities to call an empty line, hoping your father would pick up, would respond and tell you that he's coming for you. they'll give you time to write letters, even if it takes your crummy fingers hours to finish a dedicated letter for your father, after years of being unable to meet him; it causes all the more ache in your mother's chest, witnessing her beloved youngest stay up late, whispering whimsical wishes about how excited you are to read your father's reply to you.

all your mother could do was kiss your forehead as she sat by your side, and rub your delicate cheeks with her fingers, mumbling that her baby should sleep now.

your mother never lies to you, no?

at least, not outright in your face.

damian, hates seeing the heartbreak in your eyes, but he's the very same twin who comforts you every damn time you fall to your knees after discovering that the letters you sent to your father's locations were long since unanswered — even if they're all hidden away in a vault of every possession you thought you lost. he'll pick you up with his trained body, and you'll melt even further into his form, shivering at the prospect that you're an unwanted child in the face of your father.

soon.

soon, you'll learn to despise bruce with every being of your soul, and learn to only reserve the association of warmth for your only family. you'll be the spoiled royal of the al ghul, and you'll come to find yourself grateful that you're raised without his presence, deluded into thinking that he abandoned you, that he never truly cared in the first place.

you love your family, you hate bruce wayne.

he is not family.

he is not your father, he lost that status long ago right after you thought he'd ignore all your calls, your messages, letters, gifts, every and any signal sent to the man you once called your father right after learning his name. he made you hope, he left the light flicker once flickering within you now blown away, leaving only an empty husk of your wanting to meet your father.

you hate bruce, you hate him so fucking much, you're ashamed that he's even your father in the first place— even if he's the very same man working tirelessly, day and night, to save you, once he caught news of what his children looks like, and locks eyes with your hopeful ones, a rare sight amongst the imagery of assassin. he plans to retrieve you, to save you, from the castle you call your home; truly what you call your cage.

little did you know that you are more like your father than you are with what you call your family.

— heavily inspired by @anxiousnerdwritings portrayal of twin!reader.

a/n: i honestly don't know half of what i wrote. i'm out of my mind, and i'm honestly not confident with the outcome of this concept. if people do like it (leave comments, or inputs, or whatsoever) i might post a chapter about this (since i do have one written in my drafts a week or two ago). if not, i'm dropping this and leaving it as a concept mostly, a one-time thing at best. so if anybody does like this, please do tell me. i do have a lot in store for this concept, specifically the way manipulation works within this family convincing you the other side is evil; i've been through this once w/ my family actually ngl, so writing this was a bit fun.

[mushroommanchanterelle]

It's very ugly, but I'm starting to make candy again. This is my first batch of honeycomb candy! Would anyone be opposed to me posting cooking stuff, or should I make a new blog for that?

[fable2]

Gale Dekarios sighted.

has anybody else tried romancing gale as an evil gnome or am I the only one experiencing this fever dream of an act 3

(in-game screenshot that always makes me laugh under the cut)

[newtkive]

confectionary clash - carmen berzatto

pairing: carmen berzatto x afab!reader (established relationship)

summary: carmy's girl is the human embodiment of a sweetheart. that is, unless it's that time of the month and richie provokes her.

wordcount: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, fighting, weaponized incompetence from richie but we still love him.

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble but turned into 3k words. so it's written kinda like a drabble?? (hence the lowercase i can't be arsed to change) but just... long. idk hopefully its entertaining. also, i don't mean to demonize richie, he's my favorite character i think,, i just love writing him as problematic lmao cuz he's so funny. anyways, enjoy!

as carmy’s confidant and girlfriend, you were always the voice of reason. with just a string of words, you’d be calming him down after a hectic work day, giving him a fresh perspective on his work dilemmas since you were outside of the restaurant circle. in the time he’s known you, he hadn’t seen you do as much as barely raise your voice. maybe the occasional snap, but you always follow it up with swift apologies and big watery eyes.

that is, unless you’re in pain. specifically cramps. the sight of you 180ing from a sweet girl with a bright smile and even sweeter words, to an evil sorceress with spells rolling off your tongue, inflicting curses onto anyone who irritates you is jarring. a bit dramatic, sure, but that’s what you were during that time of the month—dramatic.

carmy tries best to dote on you. you would never ask him to go out of his way for something, unless it’s grabbing a heating pad or water, but carmy wants you to. it takes prying to hear your desires and cravings after asking a million times, and you begrudgingly give in with no expectations. nevertheless, you end up with exactly what you asked for, or something close to it, and you’re endlessly grateful.

on days when you stop into the restaurant when you’re feeling down, carmy enacts this same routine. if it’s food, he’ll cook it for you; desserts, he’ll grab any extras marcus has (or marcus happily makes it from scratch if they're not busy, claiming he needs the practice). if you want snacks, he sends his right hand man richie out to grab them despite your protests.

richie does it often whenever you stop into the store, and he acts like it’s a chore sometimes, but everyone has a hunch that he really loves it. come on, twenty dollars to get a few items for you and pocket the rest for himself? plus a break from work? done deal.

richie wouldn’t admit it, but he liked taking care of you too. you were always a sweetheart to him, but it wasn’t in his personality to be as sincere as you, so this was a little act of service to show his love. besides, the year and a half you’ve known him has definitely earned you the title of a friend, and you’d agree.

now, you don’t ever want to seem ungrateful, but when you ask for a specific treat, you get disappointed when you don’t really get it. maybe it’s the fluctuating mood talking, but you always end up snapping at richie due to his poor choices. if you ask for one thing, he’ll get you the next, and you even suspect he does it on purpose sometimes. pulling reactions from people is his specialty.

it’s not like you’re a complete bitch about it, because he took his time out to go get you something, but richie has a problem with weaponized competence even with his new and improved attitude. you know he can get you the jolly ranchers you suggested, but he chooses to grab goldfish because it’s closer to checkout. it was annoying, but you never really brought it up to carmy. it's not like you needed to, it wasn't a huge deal. you figured richie could use the little break, and you don’t hate the snacks he brings.

except on days like this.

you were at the restaurant on a slow day, dragged yourself out of bed despite your cramps just to see your little grumpy boyfriend and hide in his office. even as you entered the establishment through the back you glared at richie (who sweetly waved) in passing, side eyeing a few of the newbies who ran in front of you despite their apologies. none of your usual bright smiles and cheery greetings. the bee line straight to the office was a clear enough explanation for how you were feeling.

upon entering, carmy looked up in a panic, which quickly melted into a soft smile at the sight of his girlfriend. “hey, baby.” he cooed softly, immediately scooting back from his desk to reach out to grasp at your waist. you let him, but pushed down the irritation, not favoring touch at the moment. however, his rough hands sliding a little under your shirt to grasp at the flesh of your hips calmed you down, earning a small quirk of the lips from you.

“whatcha doin’ here, love?” he asks, bringing one of your hands to his lips to kiss softly, still looking up at you.

you shrug, squeezing his hand, face a bit stoic. you’d been like this for a couple of days so he wasn’t surprised by your lack of friendliness. knowing you this long, carmy became accustomed to your monthly mood swings, and he felt privileged that you didn’t feel the need to put up an act for him.

“missed you.” you finally sighed, scooting closer so you stood between his knees. palms found both sides of carmy’s face and tilted it upwards a bit so you could study his appearance. stressed and tired. however, he seemed to glow at the mere admission of you missing him. it took a few seconds for his brain to rewire, looking up at you like you created the cosmos. the only reason you heard his soft, shy, ‘missed you too’ was because of the stagnant silence.

“hungry?” carmy asked, beaming from the attention. you shrugged again, allowing him to tighten his grip on your sides and tug you onto his lap. whining a bit in protest, you reposition yourself, legs falling over his lap and arms around his neck. your faces were closer now, and carmy looked at your sad eyes with a little pang in his chest. brows furrowing, he tilted his head and snuck a hand under your chin. long, tattooed fingers tickled at your chin, and before you knew it you were giggling and grinning while batting his hand away.

“cmon, i know you must want somethin’.” your grin was infectious and laced in his soft words. you hummed, already cheered up, and tapped a finger against your chin to make a thinking face. carmy chuckled, brushing a lock of hair away from your eyes and patiently waited.

a thought crossed your mind and you met gazes again. “i might go grab some little debbie snacks from around the corner.” you decided and nodded to yourself as if solidifying your decision.

as you started sitting up more, carmy’s grip tightened on your waist. “ah, ah, no. stay here.” he protested. soon enough he was calling out ‘cousin!’ and richie came bounding over, opening the office door.

richie’s face used to contort in disgust at any visual sign of affection exchanged between you and carmy, but he was used to it now. “what’s up, cousin?” he asked, almost seeming out of breath, eyes flickering between the both of you.

a short exchange between the two occurred: carmy asking richie to run to the corner store, handing richie a twenty, and richie asking you precisely what you wanted. you made it simple and easy, something he could remember: oreos and ho-hos, a midwestern's guilty pleasure.

“ight, cap’n, i’ll be back.” richie says, saluting you two before heading out. both you and carmy exchanged an amused smirk, knowing the only reason richie went was to get himself some cigarettes and hot fries he would scarf down on the walk back.

__

in the twenty minutes richie was gone, the kitchen had gone to shit. the newbies had been running the wrong food to tables, online orders were filling the tablet nonstop due to a discount glitch, and carmy was close to losing it. sitting in the office, now alone with the muffled sound of your boyfriend yelling, you were more grumpy than before. arms crossed, you snapped your head to the side once the door creaked open. in walked richie with a plastic bag, inside of it holding your hope for a better day.

"what took you so long?" you frowned up at him, but sat up straighter in anticipation. you eyes almost shone as you looked at corner store logo on the bag.

"went the long way." he mumbled, digging in the plasic. the skeptical look on your face didn't leave as he pulled out an item and set it on the table. your frown deepened further as you noticed there was nothing at all you asked for, only met with a crushed sleeve of crackers.

“where are the oreos?” you sighed out, lips pursed in a bit of a pout.

“didn’t find any, so i got you some peanut butter crackers.” he mumbled, digging around the bag again, as if he didn’t just break your heart. if it was anyone else you'd believe them, but with richie you figured he just got bored of looking.

your jaw fell slack and you gaped like a fish for a moment, waiting for him to pull out more treats from his bag. but that time didn’t come, as he fished a pack of cigarettes out instead. “and the ho-ho’s?” your voice was hopeful.

richie perked up at that, putting the cigarettes down next to the crackers. the next second he presented you with a smushed mountain of brown and white concealed in a plastic wrapper sitting atop the palm of his hand. eyes flicking between the disappointment before you and his face, you frowned in disbelief.

richie only managed to emote as much as a ‘yikes’ face before placing it on the desk. “got smushed in transit, but tastes the same!” he gave his best attempt at a smile. your brows grew taut together and anger bubbled up in your chest. you were sure your face was quickly turning red.

“carmy gave you twenty dollars, and you come back with this?!” you hiss out, daring to look at the dry crackers and smushed up dream of a ho-ho. the sight only made you become angrier. this was something a senile old person would give you, not a competent 40-something-year-old man. his lack of care was clear, and you were boiling.

richie just scoffed—he had the nerve to scoff.

“no, not just that! i got a sprite and a few pack of cigs for myself and the guy.” he waved around one of them to prove his point. if you thought you were mad before, you reached a new level of anger. usually, you’d deal with the disappointment and thank richie for even going—aside from a smart alec remark.

however, the demon conducting your period for this month did not make your rational decisions seem clear nor enticing. as you shot up from carmy’s chair, you only knew you wanted to make richie as upset as you were in this moment.

with one finger poking his chest, you began raising your voice. as soon as you started talking, richie's eyes turned wide as saucers, exactly like a deer in headlights. a string of curses snuck into your tirade, between phrases such as “you always fucking do this richie!” and “are you fuckin’ dumb?! did you get dropped on your head?!”. you only figured he didn't fire back right away because he was so stunned.

outside of the office, the kitchen was calmer now. things were finally falling into order but still required carmy’s supervision until the sudden rush ended. the only disturbance was you. now, it was your voice yelling behind closed doors and not carmy’s.

the chef—in the middle of helping sydney plate a dish—just about gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned around to look at the barely cracked door of the office. there was the telltale muffled yelling, but what shocked him was it was clearly you yelling.

turning back around, carmy gawked at sydney who silently shared the same look of surprise. it was only until they heard richie start yelling back that sydney silently pushed him toward the door. it didn’t take more than a second for carmy to snap out of his surprise and march over to the office.

throwing the hand towel he was using over his shoulder, he yanked the heavy door open before all but body slamming his way into the room and slamming the door closed. the yelling was suddenly clear, as if carmy was being pulled out from underwater.

“YOU GET ME WHAT I ASKED YOU, OR GET ME NOTHING AT ALL!”

“THEN YOU’D BITCH ABOUT THAT TOO—“

“OR NOTHING AT ALL!”

“hey, hey, HEY!” the two of you were too busy at each others throats to even hear carmy enter, until his voice brought you both to a halt, heads turning towards him.

carmy’s eyes were immediately glued to you, not paying the least bit of attention to richie. your arms were stiff as boards to your sides, fists and jaw clenched, brows taut, and race beet red. the man had never seen you look like this before, and his instinct to comfort you took over. turning to richie with a look that could kill, carmy finally spoke. “what did you do?”

“what did i do?! except take precious time to get your girl shit she didn’t even want?!”

an offended gasp left your mouth, and you retorted instantly. “oh please! because a crushed up sleeve of crackers and a mountain of mushed up cake is just what i asked for!”

“you’re ungrateful.” richie pointed a finger at you now. carmy launched forward and slapped it down. he knew richie would never hurt you, and you knew it too, as you just rolled your eyes in response, but carmy’s instinct’s took over. richie didn’t even look phased, just irritated. carmy stood in front of you and forcefully turned richie around by his shoulders to send him to the door. if carmy didn't have half of a sane mind, he would’ve kicked richie's bottom with his shoe for good measure.

“go take a break chef! or do whatever the fuck, i don’t care.” carmy shouted after richie, and the man left with a slam of the door.

you simply watched the scene unfold with arms crossed and that same deep set frown. carmy turned around to face you as the air settled, a hand running through his hair. blue eyes raked over your tense form and carmy decided he would give you a little space to calm down. however, the second he saw your bottom lip wobbling and eyes grow watery he threw that thought to the wind

“hey, no, no, don’t cry.” carmy extended his arms and collected you into them. the tense posture you held relaxed into his slouched form as he held you close; one hand in your hair, and the other rubbing circles on your back as you sniffled.

a pit of guilt burned in your stomach and spurred you into attempting to bury yourself into carmy. blue straps of his apron rubbed against your cheek as you shuffled impossibly closer. usually, carmy would love this, but right now he'd do anything to not see you so out of it. shushing you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

there were a few beats of you hiding away before you decided to pull back a bit to face him again—and boy did you look pitiful.

the same cheeks previously bright with anger were now flush with embarrassment and stained with tears. a tattooed hand found itself sitting on your cheek, thumb rubbing under your eye to collect a fallen tear. at the touch, your eyes fluttered closed, and carmy’s heart broke at the sight.

“you gonna tell me what happened?” your boyfriend asked, trying not to make you feel even more guilty. his full attention was on you. exhaling slowly, your eyes fluttered back open and were met with those bright blue ones that always calmed you down.

“i dunno, i just-“ you shook your head and carmy waited patiently, “it wasn’t even a big deal, but richie just really set me off for some reason.”

“yeah, may as well join the club.” carmen’s words were light, not at all sarcastic, but aiming to ease you and bring out a smile. it worked, your lips turning upwards and carmy mimicking the half smile. he looked down at you with such love, head tilted to follow every time yours moved, and thumb caressing your cheek as he took in every expression.

your smile finally faltered as you glanced back at the office desk. “i feel so awful. he went out and got me stuff and i just yelled at him.” you sputter out.

carmy followed your gaze over his shoulder to finally see what started all of this. at the sight of the crackers and ball of what looked like mush, carmy scoffs in both disbelief and amusement, because of course richie would bring you that. turning back towards you, the chef finally gets it.

“baby, if someone brought me that shit while my insides were shedding i’d kill them.” he chuckled.

“really?” you asked hopefully, smile forming again.

“yes, really. even if i wasn’t goin’ through that i’d actually kick his ass.” carmy mirrored your smile.

nodding, you let yourself chuckle along with him. strong arms found you again and you were wrapped in a tight hug, allowing his squeezes to take away some guilt you were feeling. a moment passed and you knew carmy had to get back to work. with a sigh, you pulled back.

it was your turn to reach up and cup his cheek. guiding his face close, you met him halfway and pressed your lips to his in a kiss. lips moving against his, your noses brushed, and after a moment you let the kiss dissipate; lips slowly falling away from where they were molded together. one last peck was placed on carmy’s lips, as if saying, ‘thank you for being so attentive’. that earned an appreciate hum.

you both beamed, faces still close as you came back down to earth. “you gotta get back to work, and i gotta apologize.” you murmured and carmy nodded obediently.

with apprehension, carmy let you go, arms floating in the air for half a second as he walked backwards towards the door. “don’t go easy on him, though. richie lives for a fight. that was probably his anger management for the day.” carmy smirked, grasping the doorknob.

you just shook your head, eyes narrowed teasingly. before he turned to leave, you called out to him. “thank you, carmy.”

the man just gave you a confused look, chuckling. “don’t thank me, you're my girl.” with that he was back to work and you were left to your own devices. with one more glance at the monstrosity on the office desk, you left the room and went on a search for richie.

thirty minutes later, carmy was due for a smoke break and approached the back door. he slowed his tracks, lighter and cigarette in hand as he cracked the door and heard giggling. the sight before him was drastically different than before: you and richie sitting on a ledge next to each other, giggling and bumping shoulders. carmy breathed out a laugh at the sight and fully walked out. this caught both of your attention, grinning ear to ear as you clearly made up.

“hey, cousin!” richie grinned, and you both waved. figures.

[elsecrytt]

Satoru Gojo goes to the same cafe every day for his coffee-flavored confectionary beverage. You are the barista tasked with pumping his drink with the unreasonable assortment of syrup squeezes.

You don't blink at it. You've been in customer service forever. Everything is second nature to you. But you give him a look when you hand him a drink and he just starts going.

He likes to make small chat, you learn. About meaningless things - desserts, drinks, the weather - but he makes you laugh, and he laughs at your jokes, too. He's smiling every time you talk.

He's beautiful - in that way that makes you uncertain if he's really there - and friendly, and he seems a bit lonely, eager to converse.

Something tells you Satoru probably doesn't have a lot of close friends. He's rich, too, judging by the massive tips he leaves you.

The thing is, you do a lot of things on autopilot. It's just the way these things get after a while. Pouring drinks, "What would you like today?", "I'll have that out for you soon!", "Have a nice day!", all that stuff.

Sometimes, though. Sometimes. Wires get crossed.

He's picked up his drink to leave, giving you a cheeky smile and a little wave, and you tell him, without thinking twice:

"Love you, bye!"

Oh. Oh fucking hell -

"Love you too!"