#egg sack cookie

[onesacrificiallamb]

Egg sack cookie ehehgegehehhe

She is a drider

[theonottsbxtch]

YO. hear me out logan sargeant smau where reader is alex albon’s sibling and after logan gets axed from williams (😭😭😭😭😭😭) they actually start talking

COOKIE | LS2

an: gahhh i love logan so much and i can't believe i haven't written the teammate's sister dynamic with him yet, but now i have and i hope you enjoy our favourite american x

fc: random brunette's off pinterest

williamsracing

liked by alex_albon, logansargeant, mclaren and 985,382 others

we'd like to thank logan sargeant for all the time he's spent as a driver for williams racing, we wish for the best in his career as he moves on.

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userone: this was handled badly

usertwo: im going to miss you logan

userthree: james vowles worst tp of the century

userfour: bunch of clowns

alex_albon: will miss you lo x

userfive: finally williams did one good thing

usersix: poor logan

ynalbon: will miss your smile around the paddock lo x

userseven: williams sucks

imessage between yn and logan

alex's apartment monza race week

The faint sounds of bustling activity were drifting through the apartment as you stood in the kitchen, sunlight streaming in through the large window. Alex’s sleek, modern space was a comforting mix of his racing memorabilia and the warmth of home. Pulling your phone from your pocket and glancing at the news alert once more. Logan had just been sacked and very quickly replaced. A heavy sigh escaped your lips; you knew how much this meant to him, how closely tied his identity was to the sport.

As you leaned against the countertop, you glanced down at Stan, one of your brother’s man cats, casting expectant eyes in your direction. He nudged your leg with his nose, as if sensing your mood. You crouched down, scratching behind his ears absentmindedly, your mind swirling with thoughts of Alex and the fact that he was getting ready to race in Monza with a new teammate. The team dynamics had shifted, and you couldn’t help but you could feel how the changes had affected Alex.

The idea strikes you suddenly—Logan lived across the hall, he hadn’t moved out yet. You remembered how he always seemed to light up the room, his laugh infectious even in the darkest of moments. You decided that a small gesture might help lift his spirits. Maybe a little treat would remind him that he wasn’t alone in all of this.

You set to work, gathering ingredients from the kitchen. Flour, sugar, and eggs scattered across the countertop as you rummaged through the cabinets. Stan watched you curiously, jumping up onto the counter and tilting his head as you started mixing the batter for chocolate chip cookies. The scent of melting butter and sugar filled the air, sweet and comforting, reminding you of simpler times when you spent all your time out of school baking for your brother in between his competitions.

You popped a spoonful of the thick, glossy batter into your mouth, savouring the taste of nostalgia. With each stir, your thoughts drifted back to the late-night conversations you had with Logan after the races when everyone was setting down, the way he would joke about the pressures of the track, the bond that formed between the three of you by some weird miracle.

As you shaped the dough into perfect little balls and placed them on the baking tray, the oven preheating with a soft hum. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Logan’s expression when he tasted them. You knew he had a sweet tooth, often indulging in baked goods after a long day of training.

While the cookies baked, the kitchen filled with a warm, inviting aroma. You sat on the counter, swinging your legs next to Stan. You thought about Logan again, about the pressure he must be feeling, and how a small act of kindness might brighten his day, if only for a moment.

The timer dinged, and you hopped down, excitement bubbling within you. You carefully pull the tray from the oven, the golden-brown cookies looking perfect and slightly gooey in the centre. As you let them cool down, you grabbed a small tin and placed the cookies inside, sealing them with a lid.

Stan watched as you grabbed the keys, tilting his head again as if asking where you’re going. “Stay here, buddy. I’ll be back soon, and make sure the rest of the cats don’t do anything silly” you said, giving him a quick scratch behind the ears. You glanced in the mirror, smoothing your hair before stepping out into the hallway.

You walked the few steps to Logan’s apartment, knocking softly, the sound echoing against the walls. Moments later, you heard the shuffle of feet and the door swung open, revealing Logan, looking slightly surprised but smiling at the sight of you.

“Hey! What brings you here?” he asked, his voice coloured by his shock.

You held up the tin with a grin. “Thought you could use some cookies after. First race since you know.”

His expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and appreciation crossing his face. “You made these for me?” he asked, reaching for the tin, the warmth of his smile easing the tension in your chest.

Logan grinned, his eyes lighting up even more as he popped open the tin. “These look amazing! I was just about to start a movie. Want to join?” You could tell he was figuring a way to ask.

For a moment, you considered it, the thought of settling into a cosy couch with him, laughter echoing as you watch a film together. But then you remembered the little furballs waiting for you in Alex’s apartment, their mischievous antics demanding your attention.

“I’d love to, but… I really should stay here with Stan and the rest of the cats,” you replied, feeling a twinge of disappointment yourself as you watched the initial spark in Logan’s expression flicker. His shoulders slumped slightly, and you could see the hint of disappointment in his eyes.

“But...” you hesitated, feeling a burst of warmth rise in your chest. “You could always come over.”

His expression shifted from disappointment to surprise, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“No, it’s fine! It’ll be fun, Alex doesn’t get back for another four days,” you insisted, trying to sound more enthusiastic. You stepped back, giving him room to think it over.

“Alright, then!” he said, his voice brightening again. “Let me just grab my keys.”

As he disappeared inside his apartment, you took a moment to collect your thoughts. Your heart raced a little at the idea of him coming over, the casual invitation feeling more significant than you had intended. 

Logan reappeared a moment later, a hoodie thrown on over his t-shirt, and you couldn’t help but notice how comfortable he looked, a sudden urge to hug him washing over you. “After you,” he said, falling into step behind you as you headed down the hallway.

As you walked back to Alex’s apartment, the air buzzed with unspoken energy. You pushed the door open and stepped inside, the familiar scents of cookies enveloping you. Stan greeted you with an enthusiastic brush of his body against your legs, bounding over to Logan, who bent down to give him a quick scratch behind the ears.

“Looks like you’re already popular,” you teased, watching as Stan practically flops onto his back, craving attention.

“I have a way with cats,” he replied with a grin, straightening up and looking around. “So, what’s on the movie menu?”

“Cars? Mine and Alex’s favourite. You can pick—unless you want to help me wrangle the cats first,” you laughed, walking over to the living room where a large, comfy sofa waited. You felt the soft cushions call to you as you settled in, motioning for him to join you.

He took a seat beside you, and you couldn’t help but notice how easily you fell into conversation, the nerves dissipating as you laughed and joked around. Pulling the tin of cookies onto your lap, you offered him one. Logan took a generous bite, his eyes widening in delight.

“Wow, these are incredible! You’ve outdone yourself,” he said, and you couldn’t help but beam at the compliment.

“Thank you! They’re a family recipe, so you know they come with some serious baking credentials,” you said, a playful glint in your eye.

As you scrolled through the movie options, the atmosphere felt easy and relaxed. For the first time since Alex left you before Monza you didn’t feel to lonely.

The opening credits rolled, and for a moment, you sat in comfortable silence, the warmth of the cookies and Logan’s presence wrapping around you like a cosy blanket. You glanced sideways at him, catching him grinning at the screen, and your heart swelled a little more.

You were glad you made those cookies now.

ynalbon

liked by alex_albon, logansargeant, georgerussel63 and 34,5827 others

baking and night in >>

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userone: she is so pretty

usertwo: KATCHOW

userthree: i need her to bake me something stat

logansargeant: best cookies known to mankind

userfour: wait-

userfive: oh..?

alex_albon: now wait a god damn minute

usersix: my fav ever

userseven: someone needs to study the albon family genes

alex_albon has posted a story

alex’s apartment singapore race week

The hallway felt familiar under your feet now, the subtle creak of the floorboards as you crossed from Alex’s door to Logan’s. It had become a kind of routine, these quiet visits to each other’s apartments while you were housesitting. Sometimes it was to share a plate of freshly baked cookies or just to unwind after a long day. You’d fallen into an easy rhythm with him, a shared understanding that neither of you had to say much to enjoy the other’s company.

As you knocked softly on his door, you didn’t expect anything unusual. But when the door opened, the first thing you noticed was the packed bag by the entryway. Your smile faltered just a little, your eyes flicking from the luggage to Logan, who stood in front of you, rubbing the back of his neck. There was a slight tension in the air, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual. He stepped aside to let you in, but the bags remained in your peripheral vision, a silent question hanging between you.

“Hey,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light. “Going somewhere?”

Logan glanced at the bags, then back at you, his lips pressing together for a moment. “Yeah… I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m heading to America for a few weeks. Got an offer to test for Indy.” His voice was calm, but you caught a hint of something else underneath—maybe uncertainty or excitement.

Your stomach dropped just a little at the news. It shouldn’t surprise you—racing had always been his world, his dream—but it still hit harder than you had expected. “America?” You repeated the word softly, trying to wrap your mind around the distance.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, his hands shoved in his pockets. “It’s not set in stone, but they want me to test, see if I’m a good fit.”

“That’s… amazing, Lo,” you said, a genuine smile tugging at your lips despite the sudden knot in your chest. You’d always known he was destined for more, something bigger than these quiet evenings in a shared hallway.

“Thanks,” he replied, his own smile faint but appreciative. He watched you closely, as if gauging your reaction.

You stepped further into the room, glancing once more at the bag, before turning back to him. “I’ll miss you,” you admitted, the words coming out before you could think to soften them. It was the truth, plain and simple, though you hadn’t realised how much his presence had come to mean to you until now.

Logan looked at you for a long moment, something softening in his expression. “I’ll miss you too,” he said quietly. His words were steady, but there was an unmistakable sincerity behind them, as if they meant more than he’s letting on.

The air between you felt heavier now, filled with the things neither of you were saying. The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—just the weight of the realisation that something had shifted.

You laughed softly, trying to break the tension. “Guess I’ll have to bake my cookies for Stan instead.”

Logan chuckled, though there was still a warmth in his eyes that made your heart ache just a little. “Yeah, I’ll bet he won’t mind. But I’ll miss them… and you.” He said it again, the words lingering in the space between you.

You both stood there, neither quite knowing what to say next. The easy back-and-forth you’d grown so used to had shifted into something more meaningful, something deeper. And as much as you were happy for him—excited for the possibilities ahead—there was a small part of you that wished you could keep these moments just a little longer.

“When do you leave?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Tomorrow morning,” he replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

Tomorrow. It felt so soon, so sudden, but you nodded, offering him another small smile. “Well, I hope it’s everything you want it to be.”

He stepped closer then, just a little, as if drawn to you. “Thanks,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You nodded again, but the reality of it felt different, like something precious slipping through your fingers. And yet, there was no bitterness, only a quiet acceptance that this was the path he’d always been on.

You gave Logan one last smile before turning back toward the door. “I'm going to head back to the cats.”

As much as you hated the thought of him leaving, there was nothing more to say. His world was racing, and you knew how important this opportunity was for him. Stan and the rest of the cats would be wondering where you are by now, and you began to tell yourself it was better not to linger.

Your hand was on the door handle when you heard his voice, quiet but insistent.

“Wait.”

You stopped, heart skipping a beat, and turned back toward him. He was standing in the middle of the room, his brows slightly furrowed, as if debating something with himself. His eyes met yours, searching for a moment, and then he took a step toward you.

“Don’t go yet,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Something shifted in the air between you, the tension tightening around the words you hadn’t spoken. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, he closed the space between you. His hand reaching out, brushing against your arm, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver up your spine.

“Lo…” you started, your voice catching in your throat, but the look in his eyes made your heart race. There was no need for words now. You’d shared so many moments, so many small, unspoken things, and suddenly it all felt like it had been leading to this.

He leaned in, and everything else fell away—the packed bags, the uncertainty, the days apart that lay ahead. His lips met yours gently at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But then something deeper took over, the kiss becoming more sure, more real.

You sank into it, your hands instinctively finding his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie as if to hold on to him, to this moment. His hand cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing softly along your cheek, anchoring you to him in a way that felt both overwhelming and perfect.

The kiss deepened, the world narrowing to just the two of you. It was everything you didn’t realise you’d been waiting for—his closeness, the feel of him, the quiet intensity in the way he pulled you toward him as if he was afraid to let go.

When you finally parted, you were both breathless, standing there in the stillness of his apartment. Your forehead resting against his, the shared warmth between you a quiet comfort. Neither of you spoke right away, but the weight of what just happened lingered in the air, filling the silence with unspoken promises.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Logan finally said, his voice rough, almost a confession. He still hadn’t let go of you, his hand sliding from your cheek to your shoulder, as if grounding himself in the moment.

You let out a shaky laugh, your own hands still resting against his chest. “I’m glad you did.”

He smiled then, that soft, crooked smile that had always made your heart skip a beat. “I really am going to miss you.”

Your chest tightens at the words, but this time, there was a new kind of warmth behind them. It was no longer just a casual statement—it was filled with meaning, with everything that passed between you in that kiss.

“I’ll miss you too,” you whispered, your voice soft as you leaned into him again, the closeness between you now something tangible and real.

For a moment, neither of you moved, standing there in the middle of his apartment, lost in this bubble you’d created. But then you heard the faint sound of probably Stan scratching at the door across the hall, and it brought you back to reality, reminding you of the world outside.

“I should go,” you said reluctantly, your forehead still pressed against his, though now you were reluctant to pull away.

Logan nodded, his thumb brushing your skin one last time before he stepped back. “I know.”

You moved toward the door, this time with a weight in your chest that felt different—full of things you still wanted to say, but that could wait for another time. You glanced back at him one last time, his eyes following you, filled with the same mixture of emotions you felt.

“Good luck,” you said softly, your hand lingering on the doorknob. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he replied, and the sincerity in his voice tugged at your heart.

ynalbon

liked by alex_albon, logansargeant, lilymhe and 32,382 others

missing my cookie (also looky says hi)

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userone: NO SHES IN A RELATIONSHIP KILL ME NOW AND MAKE IT QUICK

usertwo: there goes my chance

userthree: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON’T LET IT BE SOME MEDICORE BORING MAN PLEASE GOD PLEASE

userfour: we lost her ☹️☹️

alex_albon: i think you have something to tell me

lilymhe: i think you have something to tell US

ynalbon: oh wont you look at that, looky has started cooking dinner, need to go help out!

userfive: now who the heck is cookie

usersix: i think i know what’s happening 🤭🤭

logansargeant: that’s one grumpy ass cat

alex_albon: watch how you talk to my kid

ynalbon: yeah watch how you talk to my nephew

alex_albon: i thought you needed to go help looky cook?

ynalbon: 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️💨

userseven: FUCK I THOUGHT SHE WAS FOR THE GIRLIES NOO

alex's apartment autumn break

Walking into your Alex’s apartment, you were greeted by the familiar scent of coffee and the quiet hum of an afternoon sports program playing in the background. Stan padded over to you, meowing as you bent down to give him a quick scratch behind the ears.

“I’m just grabbing my jacket,” you called out, heading toward the living room where Alex was sprawled on the couch, watching something about Premier League Football.

He glanced up from his phone, half-focused on the screen and half on you. “Sure, no rush.”

You pulled open the closet door and rummaged around for the jacket you left here the other night, the one you’d forgotten in the rush to go pick up said brother from the airport because “he was too tired to drive home”. As you tugged it off the hanger, Alex’s voice cut through the silence, casually.

“I’m heading to America next week to support Logan during his testing,” he said, almost offhandedly. “Thought I’d ask if you wanted to come with me.”

Your movements stilled for a moment as his words sank in. You tried to act nonchalant, but your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Logan—memories of your last night with him flooding back in an instant. That kiss. The way he’d held you like he didn’t want to let go. The late night facetime calls and watch parties held.

You pulled your jacket out of the wardrobe and closed the door slowly, turning to face Alex. “Why would I want to go?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual, maybe a little too casual.

He didn’t even look up from his phone, but you could see the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Come on, I’m not stupid,” he said, finally glancing up at you, eyebrow raised.

Your stomach flipped, and you quickly dropped your gaze, hoping your face didn’t betray the warmth creeping up your cheeks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He rolled his eyes, sitting up a little straighter on the couch. “You really think I haven’t noticed? The way you and Logan have been on those little secret calls? The way you light up when his name comes up?” He leaned back, folding his arms across his chest, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable he was making you. “I’m your brother. It’s kind of my job to notice.”

You bit your lip, feeling caught and not quite sure how to deflect. “We’re just… friends,” you mumbled, though even you didn’t sound convinced.

He raised his eyebrows, clearly not buying it. “Right. Just friends who happen to pop into each other’s apartments all the time. And who bake each other baked goods. And who look at each other like…” He trailed off, smirking again, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“Okay, okay, stop,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands for a moment, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to break through. When you peeked up at him, he was still watching you with that knowing look.

“So?” he asked, clearly waiting for you to admit what he already knew.

You sighed, dropping your hands. “Fine. Yes. I’ll go with you.”

Alex grinned, triumphant. “I knew it.”

You grabbed a pillow from the couch and tossed it at him, but he just laughed, catching it effortlessly. “Don’t make a big deal out of it,” you warned, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. It'd been at least a week since Logan left for America, and even though you’d kept yourself busy, you’d missed him more than you care to admit. The idea of seeing him again, of surprising him there, made your heart race in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I won’t,” Alex said, though the twinkle in his eye suggested he wasn’t not entirely telling the truth. He stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “It’ll be fun. Besides, I’m sure Logan will be glad to see you.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool, but inside you were already imagining what it would be like to see Logan again. “Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, heading toward the door. “Let me know when we’re leaving.”

As you turned the handle, Alex called out after you, voice teasing. “Don’t forget to pack something cute!”

You threw him a glare over your shoulder, but the door was already swinging shut behind you, and you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself as you headed back to your place, thoughts of Logan filling your mind.

By Friday you were in the hot American Sun. The hum of engines and the low chatter of mechanics surrounded you as you step onto the pit lane at the American track, the late afternoon sun casting a golden hue over everything. The sound and energy of the place were both exciting and overwhelming, but all you could think about was finding him.

Alex walked a few steps ahead, already scanning the area for new faces, but your eyes darted around, searching for Logan. The journey here had been long, full of anticipation, and now that you were so close, your heartbeat a little faster, eager for the moment you’d been waiting for.

And then, you spotted him.

Logan was standing near one of the garages, his back to you at first, talking to a few team members. He was wearing his racing suit, the top half unzipped and hanging around his waist, revealing a fitted t-shirt beneath. You froze for a second, just taking him in, that familiar rush of emotions surging through you.

He must have felt your gaze because suddenly he turned around, his eyes sweeping across the pit lane—until they landed on you. His face lit up instantly, and before you could even think, your feet were moving.

You broke into a run, dodging past a few crew members and weaving between equipment, Alex forgotten behind you. Logan’s grin widened as he stepped forward, bracing himself as you closed the distance. When you reached him, you threw your arms around his neck, and in one swift, effortless motion, he caught you, lifting you off the ground.

You laughed, the sound light and free, as he spun you around, the world momentarily disappearing in the rush of joy and adrenaline. His hands were firm on your waist, holding you close, and when he finally set you back on your feet, neither of you could stop smiling.

Before you could say a word, he pulled you in, his lips found yours in a kiss that was both urgent and tender. It was a kiss that made the long days apart disappear, one that said everything you’d both been holding onto since he left. The noise of the track faded into the background, leaving just the two of you, lost in the moment.

But then, from somewhere behind you, you heard a not-so-subtle clearing of the throat.

You pulled back from Logan, cheeks flushed, and glanced over your shoulder to see Alex standing there, arms crossed, eyebrow raised in a way that was both amused and exasperated. Logan looked over too, blinking like he’d just come back to reality.

“Sorry,” Logan muttered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, his usual confidence slipping for just a second.

Alex shook his head but walked forward with a grin. “Nah, man, you’re good,” he said, clapping Logan on the shoulder in a way that was more approving than anything else. “Just… maybe keep the PDA down when I’m around, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were grinning too, feeling the warmth of Logan’s arm still around you. “I’ll try to keep him under control,” you said, shooting your brother a teasing look.

“Good luck with that,” your brother muttered, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Anyway, I’ll leave you two for a bit. Want to see what this Indy Racing is all about.” He waved lazily and headed off toward the paddock, giving you and Logan some space.

As he disappeared into the crowd, Logan turned back to you, his grin returning, though there was a slight blush colouring his cheeks. “So… surprise?”

You laughed, standing on your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Yeah, I’d say you’re surprised.”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, pulling you closer, his voice softer now that the moment had quieted down. “It’s been… weird without you.”

“I missed you too,” you admitted, resting your head against his chest for a moment, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear comforting. “And besides, I couldn’t let you have all the fun over here without me.”

He chuckled, his arms tightening around you. “I’m about to test, but maybe you could go sit in the tent over there with the other girlfriends?”

You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “The other girlfriends?”

Logan smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t play coy, you were mine the minute you kissed me back in my apartment.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Damn maybe I shouldn’t have kissed you back then.”

He smirked, that familiar glint in his eye. “Don’t be stupid now. Come on cookie, let’s go over to the tent, I want to introduce my cool and sexy girlfriend.”

logansargeant

liked by alex_albon, ynalbon, lilymhe and 985,342 others

got the best fan ever

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userone: oh my god

usertwo: i just fell to my knees in the middle of walmart parking lot

userthree: at least our logan is happy

alex_albon: yuck

logansargeant: hater

userfour: that's alex's sister omg

userfive: what in the fanfiction

usersix: is that alex's sister? how did that happen?

logansargeant: she texted me after the news and then dropped off some "feel better soon" cookies and it's pretty much been history since then, i'm a lucky guy😊😊

usersix: oh my god i'm sick

ynalbon: this was not on my 2024 bingocard btw

logansargeant: its' been on mine since 2022

userseven: OH MY GOD THEY'RE SO CUTE

ynalbon

liked by logansargeant, alex_albon, lilymhe and 334,236 others

no longer just a formula one sister, im now an indy wag 🤭

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userone: WE LOST HER SOLDIERS

usertwo: if i see one more picture of them baking, i'm kissing my gun

userthree: most unexpected couple of 2024

alex_albon: who tf is going to look after my cats?

ynalbon: bring them to america

alex_albon: how about no?

ynalbon: hater much?

userfour: this is too cute

userfive: thank you for looking after logan for us

lilymhe: ignore the haters babe, you two are very cute (@/alex_albon)

ynalbon: yes ma'am

alex_albon: ARE YOU CALLING MY EX TEAMMATE CUTE?!

usersix: i was mourning the loss of aa23 and ls2 but yn has solved all my issues

logansargeant: 🍪🤍

the end.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Sanji trying to get back into the Baratie kitchen…

“Absolutely not. You heard Zeff.”

The one second that you left your station to grab a sack of flour from the pantry, Sanji caught your eye and was at your heels with each turn and movement. Even when you reentered the bustling kitchen.

Normally it was flattering. Today, it was very frustrating. Zeff was ready to boil half the cooks in the kitchen after his spat with Sanji that morning and, to top it off, you tripped over your feet and doused the man in flour on your way to Patty.

It would be wise not to rile the head chef up any further but Sanji wasn’t grasping the concept.

“I’ll even do something simple like peeling eggs. Surely that’s available.”

“Come on, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“I’ll do all the prep work - or seasoning! I’ll just mix together a batch of spices. Or-”

You set the floor atop a table and grabbed a macaron from the dessert stack to the left. Whirling around, you popped it into Sanji’s mouth - effectively pausing his next words.

“Sanji, I love you but I have no desire to get yelled at today. We’re already behind after this mornings commotion.” You told him softly.

Sanji’s eyes were wide. He stared back with no clever quips or arguments and you weren’t sure if this was more annoying than a few seconds ago.

Taking a bite out of the macaron, he pulled it out of his mouth and tilt his head with genuine wonder.

“Did you just say that you love me?” He asked.

Crap. How did you let that slip?

Your heart jumped into your throat and suddenly all the kitchen noise was overwhelming, the flames beneath the stoves were a little too hot…

“Oi! Oi! Oi! What are you doing in here Little Eggplant?”

Zeff’s voice bellowed thankfully right on time to save you. Sanji looked up as Zeff thundered over almost not registering the man as he chewed.

“This doesn’t look like waiting tables to me.”

Jumping in front to shield the young man, and further dig yourself into the ‘Sanji-trap’, you held your ground and addressed the tall-hatted chef.

“I actually needed his advice on something. Now that that’s done, he’s heading right back to those tables.” Turning to the blonde who hadn’t moved an inch, you eyed him so he’d get the point. “Right?”

Sanji’s eyes locked onto yours. He lifted the half-eaten macaron and slipped it between your lips - like an indirect kiss. Flicking you a sly wink, he gave a small bow. “Right away.” He said.

His tone told you that the confession had not finished being discussed. Saying nothing else, the chef-turned-waiter left the kitchen.

Zeff looked at you. It was like a scowl had permanently found a home on his face.

“What was that about?” He asked.

You had no reply for him. At least not yet. So you picked up a tray of cookies and placed it in his hands before awkwardly exiting from the conversation.

~ More imagines here ~ (for more One Piece)

A/n: A little later than the usual Friday post but it’s been an exhausting few work weeks!

[fairy-writes]

Hey can you write a super cute fluff ler!roland fortis x lee!reader where the reader is dating roland and the reader is super ticklish, especially on her thighs and roland tickles her to see her bright smile because it makes him happy plz?

PECULIAR

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

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Fandom(s): The Case Study of Vanitas

Pairing(s): Roland Fortis x Female!Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Tickling, kisses, FLUFF

Notes: I’m going to be honest… I hate being tickled, so this was really difficult for me to enjoy writing. BUT I TRIED MY BEST

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Roland was a bit peculiar when it came to visiting him at his home.

His home was a bit peculiar in and of itself for someone like him. It was a little red brick cottage with a white picket fence and flowers he tended to religiously in his time off (when he wasn’t visiting you), with a little pond by the front gate. Whenever you spent the night, you fell asleep wrapped in his arms, listening to the soft sounds of frogs chirping you to dreamland.

Back to peculiar. 

You fiddle with the key in your hand, juggling groceries in the other. 

“Damn key, just open!” You growl through gritted teeth, slowly losing your grip on the paper sack in the crook of your left arm. 

The door is flung open, and Roland leans in the doorway, a mischievous smile curling the corners of his lips. He was dressed casually in his button-down and slacks, his bare feet sinking into the plush rug at the entrance. 

“Need some help?” He asks, and you sigh, nodding reluctantly and handing the groceries over to your lover. He hefts them into his arms easily and steps aside to let you through. 

The inside is just as peculiar as the outside. With rosewood chairs topped with soft white pillows and matching couches in the front room, it was a stark contrast to what most people expected of Roland. 

It was probably because you had helped him decorate the interior of his home when he first purchased it. 

You toe off your shoes at the entrance and then make your way to the kitchen to put away the groceries. Roland follows like a puppy, with that same mischievous smile on his lips. 

The kitchen is just as bright as the rest of the house. The curtains in the adjoining dining room are open, letting in the natural sunlight and brightening up the picked flowers at the center of the table. 

Roland puts a hand on your waist and presses a light kiss to the side of your neck where it meets your shoulder. His hands trickle up and down your side, causing you to squirm as the ticklish touch itched you. 

“Stop. That tickles.” You mutter as you begin to put groceries away. Eggs go in the fridge. Flour in the cupboard. Sugar next to that. Ingredients for bread and cookies are safely stored away. 

All the while, Roland has attached himself to your side, shuffling after you adorably if not a bit awkwardly, given he was so much broader than you. 

“But I love tickling my dearest girl.” He whispers, and you shiver at the feeling of his lips brushing your ear. 

“Doesn’t mean I like it.” You grumble, and he chuckles, catching onto your little white lie.

“Of course you do. Don’t lie to me, love.”

After the groceries are put away, you and Roland are reading on the couch. A quilt is thrown over the two of you as you read quietly to your lover. He had his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as his green eyes scan the words on the page. 

He seems content.

Until…

You feel fingers tracing shapes on your hips, trickling up and down your thighs. You squirm, and your voice wavers. 

“Roland…” You say warningly, and he tightens his grip on your waist, his fingers disappearing from your hips. 

“What? I’m not doing anything.” He says, and you can hear the grin in his voice. 

Your book is eventually abandoned when Roland��s hands begin to wander again, tickling your sides and thighs until you are giggling up a storm and drop the book to swat at his hands. You can’t even get the air to breathe to tell him to stop. 

He eventually does, with a kiss to your cheek and a tight squeeze of your back to his chest. 

Roland sure is peculiar. 

But you love him anyway. 

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

"Two Tarts - One Half Cut (2019) by British award-winning artist, FELICITY HOUSE (b.1950). Pastel 72 x 64 cm

* * * * *

If you like soft ginger cookies you will love these. I made a batch this weekend and introduced my one year old grandson to them. He wolfed them down.

MOLASSES SUGAR COOKIES

Cream together:                      Sift Dry Together:

3/4 cup shortening                  2 cups flour 1 cup sugar                              2 tsp. baking soda 1/4 cup molasses                     1 tsp. cinnamon 1 egg                                        1/2 tsp. each: salt, ground ginger                                                  and ground cloves

*

Stir dry into creamed mixture. Roll into balls. Roll in granulated sugar and place 2 inches apart on greased cookie sheet.  Bake at 875 degrees for 8 -10 minutes. 

Flatten the balls to 1/4 -3/8 inch with a glass dipped in sugar.  Bake.  They will puff up during baking.  Cool for 5 minutes before removing from the cookie sheet to absorbent paper.  Let cool completely.  Store in a tin for soft chewy cookies or a paper sack for crisp cookies.  They usually don't last long enough to worry about storage.

[call-me-maggie13]

"When do I get my uniform?" Beatrice is arranging her crayons in the box by color, having already organized her notebooks and folders by color and put them away in her rucksack.

"We don’t have uniforms." Shannon balances a marker atop an eraser before catapulting it at Beatrice, it misses and thumps into the wall behind her head.

"Then what do we wear to class?" Beatrice hands the marker back to Shannon and waits for another failed attempt to launch it at her.

"I prefer to wear clothes, but I guess you could wear whatever." Shannon shrugs and sticks her tongue out when Beatrice rolls her eyes. "I usually wear shorts and a t-shirt but the baby school is always cold so you should probably wear pants and a sweater."

"The baby school?" Shannon flings the marker across the room, again, and misses, again.

"Yeah, the school for all the babies. You’ll be the top baby in your class." Beatrice holds the marker behind her, braces Shannon away from reaching it. "Okay fine, it’s what the older kids call the primary school. It’s where you’re going."

"You’re not going with me?" Beatrice drops her arm, Shannon snatches the marker from her before noticing the tiny wrinkle between her brows and the bow of her back.

Beatrice never slouches.

"No, I’m going to the junior high across the street." Beatrice’s head falls forward minutely, she pulls away when Shannon tries to throw her arm around her shoulders. "Hey, I’ll show you around and I’ll just be across the street if you need me. Okay?"

"I’m going alone?"

"No. You’ll never be alone, Bea. You’ll always have me. It doesn’t matter if I’m across the street or across the country, I’ll always be here if you need me."

"I don’t need you." Beatrice kicks her crayons away as she rushes from the room. Shannon watches her speed walk down the hall and slam her bedroom door. She sighs and fixes the crayons the way Beatrice had them arranged before, tucking the marker she’d been using as a projectile back into its box and shoving it into her bag.

They don’t speak about it for five days. It isn’t until the day before school starts that Beatrice approaches Shannon about it again.

"Would this be acceptable to wear tomorrow?" She holds up a pair of slacks, a button up, and a sweater. It might as well be a school uniform, but it’s not much different than what Beatrice wears every day.

"Yeah. I mean, you could wear something comfier but that will work too."

"Oh." Beatrice’s face falls and she bites her lip.

"Hey," Shannon flicks her ear. "It’s great. It’s totally you. I like it."

"Do - do you really?" Beatrice refuses to look at Shannon when she’s trying not to cry.

"I do. I like how you dress like an old man sometimes. It’s cute." Shannon bumps their shoulders and throws her arm over her shoulder.

"You promise?"

"Of course, bumble Bea. Why would I lie to my favorite person in the world?"

"I am?" Shannon nods, eyes bright and smile soft.

"Always have been, always will be, stupid." She ruffles Beatrice’s hair and Beatrice ducks away from the contact, playfully pushes Shannon’s hand away when she tries to repeat the action.

The next morning, Beatrice is practically buzzing with anxiety, her fingers and toes tapping until Shannon covers her wiggling hand with her own.

"Dude, imma need you to stop, you’re making me nervous." Martha frowns at Shannon from the other side of the kitchen island.

"Sorry." Beatrice pokes the eggs on her plate, she hasn’t eaten.

"You need to eat something, the oldest kids get lunch last," Martha offers a bowl of fresh fruit and Beatrice picks the leaves off a strawberry she has no intention of eating.

"Hey mom, did you get those cookies I like for my lunch today?"

"I did. Would you like me to put them in your lunch sack?" Shannon nods and Martha disappears. When the door closes behind her, Shannon spins, knees knocking into Beatrice’s thigh.

"Okay, so we’re gunna walk there and back together, yeah? I’ll drop you off at the flag post and we’ll meet there after, sound good?" She eats the strawberry from Beatrice while she’s talking then takes three quick bites from an apple that she drops in front of her, Beatrice frowns and tries to push it back to her. "No, leave it. Mom won’t let us leave until you eat."

Martha rejoins them, stares suspiciously at the half eaten apple in front of Beatrice, but she doesn’t say anything.

"We’re gunna head out, okay?" Martha nods and stacks their dishes, accepts a quick kiss on the cheek from Shannon before she’s gone.

"You remember my number, Beatrice?" Beatrice nods. "Okay, call if you need me to get you."

"Bea, let’s go before she convinces you to do homeschool." Shannon grabs her wrist and drags her into the foyer, tosses her rucksack into Beatrice’s chest, followed by her lunch bag before Beatrice even has a chance to settle her bag on her shoulders. Homeschooling doesn’t sound terrible.

Shannon chatters the entire five block walk to the schoolhouse. Various stories about her school friends and the teacher she’d had in Beatrice’s year. Mrs. Biles sounds very kind, she is certainly Shannon’s favorite.

"Okay so this is where we’ll meet," Shannon points to the empty flag post, "but I’m gunna go ahead and walk you to your class, what room is it?"

"411." Beatrice tries not to think about how there are at least four hundred and eleven rooms in the schoolhouse. Tries to not let it shoot her heart rate into the stratosphere.

"That’s Mrs. Biles’s class! Dude, you’re going to love her!" Shannon drags Beatrice through the double doors and into a crowded hallway.

It seems like every other person is greeting Shannon, a few offering high fives and shoulder pats. Everyone knows her. They must, because everyone smiles and waves at them, even if they don’t greet Shannon.

There are so many other children. Nearly a million. Probably. If not, it certainly feels like it.

"Hey!" Shannon just walks into the classroom. Like she owns it. Like she’s supposed to be here. Beatrice wishes she had that. She doesn’t know what it’s called, but she wishes she felt like she was supposed to be here.

"Little Miss Shannon. Aren’t you in the upper level this year? Don’t tell me you got held back. Was it for starting fires again?" The woman is young and bright, her skin dark like willow bark. Her hair is curly and long, bouncing when she spins to tease Shannon, her toothy smile crooked. Beatrice decides in this moment, she likes her.

Shannon giggles and rocks onto the balls of her feet, pulling Beatrice in front of her.

"This is Beatrice! She’s in your class!"

"Well hello, Beatrice. I’m Mrs. Biles but you can call me Mrs. B if you would like." She doesn’t do the friendly teacher thing where she kneels to be eye level with her. Beatrice has always felt it was patronizing when they would do it. She takes the hand offered to shake before pulling away and ducking behind Shannon.

"You can go ahead and find a seat. And you, little troublemaker," she grins when she turns back to Shannon, "should go before you’re late."

"Okay." She spins and takes Beatrice by the shoulders. "I’m just across the courtyard. And mom said she can pick you up early if you - "

"I’m okay." Beatrice isn’t certain if she is, however. Her stomach is twisting and her hands would be shaking if she hadn’t already clenched them into fists at her side.

"Okay but if you decide to do homeschool, I’m gunna do it too. So you’ll be stuck with no one but me and mom all day every day. Just remember that." She tries to wink but she hasn’t quite figured it out yet so it’s more of a half blink. "Flag post. Don’t forget."

"I won’t." Beatrice receives the quickest and tightest hug of her entire life before Shannon leaves.

She lingers next to the teacher’s desk. She isn’t certain where to sit, she’s never had a teacher that didn’t assign seats. It’s surprisingly overwhelming.

"Hey, new girl." Beatrice turns to the other girl, but she doesn’t respond. "Do you wanna sit next to me?"

She has kind blue eyes and a dimpled smile, she nods to the desk beside her and tilts her head.

What would Shannon do?

Shannon would sit with the girl. She would exchange names and phone numbers and birthdates and they would be best friends before lunch. Shannon would invite her over after school to do cartwheels in the backyard or something of that sort.

But Beatrice isn’t Shannon.

She’s still debating when a floppy haired boy tries to take the seat.

"Go away, Psalm. My friend is going to sit here." The girl sticks her tongue out at the boy who responds by sticking his own tongue out before continuing down the row, pausing three seats back to respond.

"I didn’t know you had friends, Aster. I thought your best friend was Rock or Bird or something."

Aster. Beatrice has never heard the name but she can’t imagine this girl with any other name.

"Oh shut up and go pray to your cult daddy about it." The remark earns a few snickers and Beatrice suddenly feels more out of her depth than she did before.

"He’s not a - "

"That’s enough, children. In this classroom, we aren’t going to talk to each other like that. Am I clear?" There’s a chorus of agreements and Mrs. Biles nudges Beatrice towards the seat. "Can everyone find a seat so we can muster? Afterwards, we’ll go over classroom rules and etiquette."

Beatrice is the only one still standing and, suddenly, the choice is made for her because the only available seat is the one Aster has offered. She takes it quietly, sinks into her seat when she feels everyone’s eyes following her.

She tries to fall back into the empty space in her head, tries to shut the curtain behind her eyes and sink into the backseat but she hears her name right as she’s nearly there. Except -

"Beatrice Masters?" Mrs. Biles is looking directly at her, waiting for some form of acknowledgement but that’s not - that’s not her name.

Masters. Beatrice Masters.

"I think that’s you," Aster leans across the aisle with a giggle.

"Beatrice?" Her heart is thundering in her head, skin hot and burning and too tight. "That is your name, is it not?"

Beatrice shakes her head and Mrs. Biles frowns and squints at the roster, leans over her desk to click on her computer for a moment before turning back to her with furrowed brows.

"Are you certain you’re in the right classroom, Beatrice?" Mrs. Biles must notice the rapid rise and fall of her chest so she motions her to come up to the desk. Waits until Beatrice stops in front of the desk to lean forward with a crooked smile to whisper. "These things happen sometimes, it’s not your fault. I’m going to send an email to the administration but you’re going to stay until I hear back, is that alright?"

Beatrice nods again and Mrs. Biles taps away at her keyboard before following up with one single question that makes Beatrice’s chest ache.

"Can I ask why you’re staying with the Masters?"

"Um…"

"She’s Shannon’s charity project!" It’s the same boy as before, floppy hair falling in his eyes.

"Psalm, shut up! No one cares what you have to say. Ever." Aster throws an eraser at him. It bounces off his forehead and he collects it from the floor, preparing to launch it back at her.

"Don’t you dare." Mrs. Biles is on her feet and rounding the desk before he has a chance to aim, hand outstretched waiting for him to drop it into her palm before collecting anything else she deems a projectile from Aster’s desk as well. "You will get these back either at the end of the day or when you prove you are no longer a danger to others."

"I’m not a danger to others, just that infernal skunk." Her remark makes Beatrice giggle, soft and twinkling like wind chimes.

Beatrice offers Aster a pencil when she retakes her seat and receives a smile that makes her chest ache. They don’t have an opportunity to speak the rest of the morning, Mrs. Biles lays out the rules and passes out introductory paperwork, an "about me" worksheet that she promises isn’t going to be presented to the class, and a blank page that she asks them to draw their families on.

She leaves hers blank.

She watches her neighbors draw instead. Aster has five siblings, three dogs, four cats, and a lot of fish, if her picture is accurate. The boy to her right has three dogs and a baby sibling. Behind her, a girl has six adults that live with her, and three little boys. She cranes her neck to peek at Psalm’s portrait, but she quickly loses count of the children in the picture.

She figures it fits, he seems like a child that has to scream to be seen.

Beatrice is some sort of crooked opposite. She doesn’t want to be seen. Not by her parents, at the very least. She wishes to disappear into the linoleum tiles and ugly, pea green wall paint. To melt into her hard, plastic seat until there’s no pulling them apart.

He catches her staring and covers his paper with his arm before sticking his tongue out and glaring at her.

Mrs. Biles collects the papers individually, inspects them quietly and offers compliments to each student she passes. She doesn’t insult Beatrice’s blank page, she pauses and looks it over intently before smiling softly and tucking it behind the rest of the stack.

Aster takes her hand and drags her to the back of the line when they’re lining up for lunch.

"Beatrice? Could you stay back a minute?" The rest of the class departs with the lunch monitor but Beatrice and Aster. "Aster, go with the class."

"Beatrice is part of the class." The way she says it, there’s no room for discussion. She’s in charge and she’s not going anywhere. Beatrice isn’t sure where this fierce defensiveness over her is coming from, but she doesn’t quite mind.

"Do you mind?" Beatrice shakes her head and Aster jumps onto the top of a desk beside the door, swings her legs and stares intensely at the multiplication table on the wall.

Mrs. Biles motions for Beatrice to follow her around the desk where she already has a document pulled up on the screen. Beatrice doesn’t recognize it, but she does see her name. Multiple times.

Except.

Masters, Beatrice C.

"So it does look like you were enrolled under the name Beatrice Masters. If you would like, I can call Martha during your lunch break and we can discuss changing it to whatever you’re used to?"

Beatrice isn’t certain. She’s not Beatrice Masters. That’s not the name she was given when she was born. It’s not the name she knows herself as.

But she wants to be. She thinks she wants to be.

"Tell you what, I’ll send you home with a letter for Martha and you and her can talk about it and she can let me know, yeah?" Beatrice nods and she turns to follow Aster out of the classroom. "Oh, and Beatrice?" When she turns she receives a shimmering smile. "Family is whoever you want it to be. It’s not just who you share blood with, it can have whoever you want your family to include."

Beatrice isn’t certain who she wants her family to be. She spends her lunch break and recess listening to her new friend rambling about so many topics Beatrice can’t keep track while worrying about who her family is.

She knows she wants to be a part of the family she’s been living with. They’ve felt more like home than her parents ever have.

But if she’s not her parents’ child, who is she?

When Mrs. Biles passes their pictures back out after lunch, Beatrice splits the page down the middle and draws both.

On one side, her mother and father flank her on either side, faces blank and clothes dark. When she looks back on this picture later in her life, she won’t know if it was an intentional decision or if that’s truly how she remembered her parents that day.

On the other, a stick figure Shannon grins beside her in a brightly colored dress. They’re sandwiched between Martha and Rich, all smiling beneath a shining sun. She even includes Jasper.

"Who’s that?" Aster leans across the aisle to point to her parents.

"My mother and father."

"Why don’t you live with them?" The girl behind her chirps, pushing upward to peer at the picture over Beatrice’s shoulder.

"I thought Shannon picked you up off the street," Psalm quips, dissolving into a quiet giggle. No one else laughs.

"Children, this is a solo assignment. We are not collaborating yet."

Beatrice wants to pull her hair out of its bun, wants to let it create a curtain between her and the rest of the class. She has one hour and twenty-seven minutes before the dismissal bell. One hour and forty-two minutes before Shannon will meet her at the flag post and they can walk back together.

But she will be right back here at eight o’clock tomorrow.

Mrs. Biles pats her shoulder when she passes to collect their pictures, stacking them neatly on her desk before stepping before the whiteboard and clasping her hands in front of her.

"We have one final activity before I will relinquish you for the rest of the day." They still have an hour left. Are they allowed to be released early? Surely not. "We are going to play a game. Two truths and a lie. Can anyone tell me the rules?" Beatrice has never heard of this game.

"Ooh ooh!" Aster bounces in her seat, nearly ripping her arm from the socket to raise hers the highest. Mrs. Biles selects her to explain the game. "So you have to say two true things and one not true thing about yourself and everyone has to guess what the lie is! I am exceptionally good at this game."

"Good job, Aster! Does anyone have any questions?" No one speaks. "Okay. I’m going to give you a few minutes to think about your statements then I’m going to go first and we’ll popcorn around until everyone’s had a turn."

Beatrice doesn’t like lying. It’s a sin. She can’t tell a lie about herself without needing repentance.

Her head hurts. Pressure building behind her eyes and ears ringing.

"What are yours?" Aster leans across the aisle, holds her own paper up for Beatrice to trade. If she’s disappointed Beatrice’s is blank, she doesn’t say anything.

1) I have a pet peacock named Dusty.

2) I have been to a concert at every Taylor Swift tour since I was born.

3) I was born in Australia.

Beatrice wonders what kind of life Aster has lived to have both of her truths be as unbelievable as her lie.

"Do you want help?" Beatrice shrugs. She doesn’t know how this is a school sanctioned activity. It doesn’t feel right for her to tell a lie, even if it’s for a game. "Okay. I got this."

Aster takes Beatrice’s paper and begins to write on it. She only pauses once, scrunching her nose and tip of her tongue poking out from between her teeth. When she returns it, it’s nearly completed.

1) I can speak __ languages.

2) I can play __ instruments.

3) My favorite book is ___.

Beatrice wrinkles her eyebrows and looks at her, confused.

"Just fill it in. Shannon said you’re like the Rosetta Stone. And that you like instruments. I assume you like to read, you have three books in your bag." Beatrice glances between Aster and her book bag. "I snoop. You should know that about me."

How? How was I supposed to know that about you? Beatrice wants to ask.

"Is everyone ready?" Mrs. Biles waits for confirmation from the majority of the class before continuing. "I have two dogs named Lilo and Stitch. I’ve never had McDonalds before. And I know how to juggle."

Beatrice glances around the room, sees no evidence of any Disney movies decorating the walls. If someone were to name their pet after a character, you would expect at least some visual evidence of their existence in their room. Never eating McDonalds feels unlikely too, but not improbable. Juggling however, just sounds intriguing. There’s no way to tell if someone can juggle just by appearance.

"Show of hands, who thinks Lilo and Stitch are the lie?" Beatrice nearly puts her hand up. Not a single other student raises their hand. "McDonalds?" Probably half the class raises their hands. "And juggling?" The rest raise their hands. Mrs. Biles raises an eyebrow at Beatrice but she doesn’t force an answer from her. "Well, you’re all wrong. While I do have two dogs, their names are not Lilo and Stitch, they are Abra and Cadabra."

"You can juggle?" Aster bounces in her seat.

"I can."

"You’ve never been to McDonalds?"

"Did your parents not love you?"

"I eat McDonalds a lot!"

Mrs. Biles chuckles and quiets the class.

"Moving on. Who wants to go first?" Psalm’s and Aster’s hands launch into the air, Mrs. Biles laughs. "Why don’t we start with you Psalm? You can go next, Aster."

"I have eight siblings. I have never been to the mountains. I have a cat named Noodles."

"You’re allergic to cats." Aster doesn’t even bother turning around to make the statement. "Your lie isn’t supposed to be obvious."

"It wouldn’t’ve been obvious if you weren’t such a stalker." Psalm snaps back, crumpling his paper and launching it at Aster’s head.

"Mister Psalm! That is completely inappropriate and unacceptable behavior for my classroom." Aster snickers and Mrs. Biles turns to address her. "Miss Aster, your actions are also reprehensible, you need not forget where you are, child. I assume I will have no choice but to separate you two if neither of you can learn to behave yourselves."

"What’s reprehensible mean?" Aster asks quietly.

"It’s an adjective that means morally wrong and deserving criticism. A synonym is deplorable." Beatrice answers easily, not realizing the entire class has turned to her.

"Wait, you’re British?"

"She’s not British, she’s a robot."

"Do you read the dictionary for fun?"

"Hey, android. What does deplorable mean?" A few students giggle and Beatrice starts to answer when Mrs. Biles closes the space between her and Psalm and tells him to follow her.

"Hey, Beatrice?" Aster leans into the aisle after Mrs. Biles and Psalm step into the hallway. Beatrice nods. "What does deplorable mean?"

"It’s another adjective that means very bad and unacceptable, often in a way that shocks people."

"How do you know that?" The girl behind her — who Beatrice had learned is named Maisie during lunch — asks. Beatrice doesn’t know if she’s going to make fun of her. She doesn’t know if she already is.

"I read the dictionary occasionally. I like words and definitions."

"What’s your favorite word?" Maisie looks at her the same way Jasper looks at her when Shannon tells him to sit. She doesn’t understand.

"Right now it’s nudnik. It’s a noun that means a person who is a bore or a nuisance. But my favorite word before that was hullabaloo. It’s another noun that means a lot of loud noise, especially made by people who are annoyed or excited about something."

Mrs. Biles returns alone. The class grows eerily quiet.

"Alright, moving on. Aster, are you ready?"

Beatrice finds the game to be a unique way to learn about her new classmates. It’s fairly interesting to see the kinds of things her peers lie about. Like Aurore, who says she has a pet wallaby but doesn’t think they’re related to kangaroos and Chaya who says he’s been to Buckingham Palace but doesn’t even know where it is.

And Aster, who does have a pet peacock but his name is Shimmer.

"Beatrice?" Beatrice flinches when the class turns to stare at her again. "You’re the only one who hasn’t gone."

I don’t want to go. Please don’t make me go. Please please please -

"Can I read it for you?" Aster’s already grabbing the paper from her desk and clearing her throat to read it aloud before she’s even finished her question. "I can speak eight languages. I can play seven instruments. My favorite book is Swallowing Stones."

The class is pretty evenly divided between the languages and the instruments being the lie, a simmering chatter building while they discuss the likelihood that the book on her desk isn’t her favorite.

"So, which is it, Beatrice?" She truly does not want to answer. She doesn’t like how everyone is looking at her. Waiting for her.

"The book."

"The book? What languages do you speak?" Aster drops the paper and spins in her seat to completely face Beatrice, utterly entranced.

"English, Spanish, Mandarin, Latin, French, Portuguese, German, and Italian. I can only read and write English, Latin, and Mandarin, however." It’s clinical. No emotion. Beatrice suddenly understands why Psalm called her an android. She has no inflection.

"And instruments?" The boy in front of her has completely twisted around in his desk to ask.

"Piano, violin, cello, clarinet, flute, saxophone, and guitar."

Aster leans across the aisle to poke her cheek, Beatrice ducks away and frowns at her.

"Are you sure you’re real?" Beatrice doesn’t understand the question. Of course she is real. She’s sitting within arms reach of the other girl. What does she mean?

"Well, what is your favorite book, Beatrice?" Mrs. Biles captures their attention again and Beatrice doesn’t want to answer.

Luckily, the bell saves her, trilling and sending her peers racing to pack their materials away and rush out of the building. Aster waits for Beatrice to carefully replace her belongings into her bag, arranging her pencils so the tips all face the same direction in her pencil box. She also stacks her books by size before carefully ensuring they’re secured within her rucksack.

"What is your favorite book?" Aster asks softly when Beatrice finally stands, shifting her bag onto her back.

It gives her pause. The gentle curiosity.

She doesn’t know. She didn’t know she was allowed to have a favorite anything before this summer. Her favorites were whatever her mother told her they were. Jane Austen, tiramisu, lavender chamomile tea, the color purple, orchids.

She knows what her mother’s answer would be. She knows what her mother would tell her to say. The Bible. It’s the only correct answer.

But it’s not Beatrice’s answer. At least, she doesn’t want it to be. She doesn’t think so.

"I’m not certain. Would it be possible for me to consider it and get back to you?" Aster bites back a smile and forces a calm nod, Beatrice doesn’t notice.

"Good evening, Mrs. Biles." Beatrice pauses to shake the woman’s hand, a tender and practiced smile on her face.

"Good evening, Miss Beatrice. I hope to see you here again tomorrow." Mrs. Biles’s hand is firm around Beatrice’s, not squeezing or painful but strong and steady. She shakes it a single time before dismissing the pair for the evening.

The halls are empty, a blessing Beatrice had not thought she would receive on this terrifying day. Aster chatters beside her, hands shoved into the front pocket of her pullover as she meanders slowly through the building. Beatrice tries to pay attention to what she’s saying, truly. But she speaks so fast and she doesn’t like to look Beatrice in the face when she talks so Beatrice is having a very difficult time understanding her words.

She’s surprised to find Aster following her across the quad to the flag post, where she unceremoniously drops to the ground beside it, still speaking quickly and showing no sign of slowing any time soon.

Beatrice watches the front doors of the school across the way anxiously, chewing on her lip and rocking softly side to side.

"My baby sister does that." Aster mimics the rocking motion curiously. "Does it make you feel better?"

"No. I apologize for being distracting." Beatrice forces herself to still and shake her head. Aster tilts her head but doesn’t continue.

"They’re gunna come out the side door next to the big tree." Aster points to a large oak tree around the far side of the schoolhouse.

"Who?"

"Shannon and my sister. River told me they’re on that end this year." Aster rips a handful of grass from beneath her and flattens her palm to watch the breeze carry the blades and dirt away. Beatrice bites her lip again.

She doesn’t dare ask any more questions. She will make herself seem like an imbecile if she doesn’t stop responding to everything Aster says with a question.

It’s like her mother always told her: la curiosité est un vilain défaut.

She forces herself to slow her heartbeat, focus on the way her lungs rise and fall despite the bitter autumn air, empty her mind and slip back inside herself again.

It’s better to be a passenger in her own body than an imbecile.

"Hey!" Shannon nearly tackles her under the force of the hug, jostles Beatrice until she loses her footing and begins to slip only for Shannon to tighten around her to keep her steady. Shannon’s cheeks are flushed and her breathing is rushed and her excitement is palatable. "Sorry, how was it? I see you met Baby Blue."

Baby blue?

"My name is still Aster, Shannon." The smaller girl sticks her tongue out only for Shannon to swipe her palm down it and receive a shriek in response. It makes Beatrice’s stomach hurt.

"You met River’s sister."

"Oh. Yes. That is correct." Beatrice flinches when a boy laughs behind her.

"Oh yes, that is correct. Beep bop." The boy mocks, moving his arms like a stiff robot. "Are you actually an android? Weirdo."

"Psalm, do not make me beat you up again. You just got out of your last cast." Shannon steps around Beatrice, arms wide and chest puffed in an attempt to make herself look bigger.

"I can’t believe you got an android before me. And it looks so realistic, I almost didn’t realize it was fake. Nearly thought she was a real girl." He laughs and the small girl beside him frowns and furrows her eyebrows, staring at him confused.

"Psalm, what did Father say about picking fights with Shannon?" A taller boy claps his hand over Psalm’s shoulder and her classmate tries to shrug it off only for the boy to clamp his hand around it. "If you don’t learn to mind, I’m going to have to tell Father that you’re disrespecting and antagonizing girls again."

"Thanks, Zephaniah, but I can fight my own battles." Shannon steps closer to Psalm only for the taller boy to block her. He’s at least a torso taller than Shannon, probably twice her width and weight. He would destroy her if there were a physical altercation.

"Not this one, Masters. I don’t need any more little girls tainting my family name." His phrasing is weird, Beatrice realizes. Like his words have been rehearsed. There’s something in his eye that Beatrice doesn’t like. She can’t name it but it makes her chest tight so she tugs Shannon away.

"If you even think about talking to my sister again, I will kill you. No God will be able to protect you from me."

Sister?

Shannon sighs and takes Beatrice’s hand carefully, guiding her away from the boys and up the street towards her house.

"I guess he’s in your class too?" Beatrice doesn’t respond to Shannon’s question, but Aster does, nodding and immediately launching into a rant about the boy. She complains all the way to the final crosswalk, where River and Aster turn left while Beatrice and Shannon continue ahead.

"Are you okay?" Beatrice nods but still doesn’t speak. Her body hurts suddenly. And her head. She’s tired, also.

She’s so tired.

"I’m sorry about Psalm. He’s the worst in his whole family, if you could believe it. But he shouldn’t bother you anymore, if he does just tell me." Beatrice can picture Psalm’s brother’s fist in Shannon’s face. She shakes her head aggressively to rid herself of the image. She doesn’t want Shannon to fight for her.

She doesn’t want Shannon to get hurt because of her.

"Was the rest of the day good at least? Mrs. Biles is pretty awesome, she’s my favorite teacher. I’m really glad you’re in her class."

Martha is standing in the front yard waiting for them, smiling and waving and Beatrice’s heart sinks into her stomach.

She doesn’t want to do this anymore.

She’s not certain what this is. All she knows is she doesn’t want it anymore. She wants to go to bed. She doesn’t want to talk about her day or her classmates or her possible new friend or her definitive new enemy.

Martha doesn’t ask, thankfully. She offers them both a hug and follows them inside. Shannon drops her bag just inside the entryway and kicks it to the side before farting up the stairs, Martha sighs and collects the bag from the floor while Beatrice starts up the stairs behind her.

"Hey Beatrice, before you go, Mrs. Biles emailed me. We don’t have to talk about it right now, but whenever you’re ready, I’ll be down here." She nods down the hall and Beatrice hesitates with her hand on the banister. "You look tired, kiddo. Go take a nap, we can talk when you wake up, how about that?"

A nap? She’s not a toddler, she doesn’t need a nap.

Still, she nods and continues to her room silently. Shannon is already on her bed, sprawled on her back like a starfish across the duvet. She’s awake, but she doesn’t say anything. Not yet.

She waits until Beatrice steps out of her closet wearing a pullover and sweatpants. More specifically, Shannon’s favorite blue pullover with koi fish on the sleeves and white sweatpants. Beatrice had stolen it from Shannon’s closet more than a month ago, in between her arrival and her admitting to Martha and Rich that she might need more clothes than she’d brought with her.

Shannon wiggles an eyebrow at her but doesn’t comment on the outfit, flops over barely enough for Beatrice to have room to lay beside her.

Neither says anything, they lay in a simple silence until Beatrice is nearly certain Shannon is asleep. Just as the gentle lull of sleep starts to tug her under, Shannon rolls over to face her.

"Is it okay that I called you my sister?" Shannon is strong and Shannon is certain and Beatrice has no doubt that Shannon knows almost everything there is to know.

But right now, Shannon is quiet and scared and uncertain.

It’s unnerving.

"Do you want me to be your sister?" Beatrice doesn’t recognize her voice as herself, it sounds foreign and strange to be coming from herself.

"You kinda already are, right? I mean you live with me, doesn’t that mean you’re my sister?"

"I don’t know." Beatrice doesn’t like not having answers readily available to her. She already hates not knowing things, but not being able to find a seemingly simple answer to a seemingly simple question is infinitely worse.

Shannon doesn’t push for more from her. She doesn’t rephrase the query in that way that nearly makes it sound like a different question that she’s so fond of. She just watches Beatrice for another moment before rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling.

Her hand is millimeters from Beatrice’s but she doesn’t intwine their fingers. She doesn’t have to. Just being beside her is enough to slow Beatrice’s racing mind.

It’s dark when Beatrice wakes. Shannon’s gone, the blankets she'd been using are long grown cold beside Beatrice. She’s not certain why Shannon didn’t wake her. She’s especially unsure why Martha or Rich hadn’t woken her either.

She considers going back to sleep. She probably could, the exhaustion pressing heavy behind her eyes and sinking her deeper into her bed begging for her reunion.

But her stomach grumbles. Loud and angry and achy. And the hunger is stronger than the lingering sleepiness, pushing her out of the bed and down the stairs to the kitchen.

Martha is sat at the island flipping through a cookbook, the light above her head warming the room like a lantern on a cold dark night.

"I didn’t mean to sleep through supper, I’m sorry." Her words still have that sleepy drawl to them, making her sound like a babbling baby. She hates it.

"Oh you’re alright, sugar. Today was a lot, I expected you to be tired. Do you want some chicken alfredo?" Beatrice nods and rubs her eyes, trying to wipe the drowsiness away with her knuckles. Martha guides her to the seat she’d just been in, pauses to rub her shoulder before prattling about the kitchen reheating a bowl of pasta for Beatrice.

"Thank you." Beatrice has to bite back a yawn, flinching when something thumps above her head.

"It’s Shannon. She’s trying to do handstands."

"It doesn’t sound like she’s being particularly successful," Beatrice smiles at her over the steaming bowl. Martha laughs and strokes her hair.

She knows they have to talk about it. She knows Martha wants to talk about it. But she doesn’t want to. She’s not certain she wants to know.

"There’s the sleepyhead," Rich shoots a finger gun at her before pouring a glass of orange juice and sliding into the stool across from her. "Are you gunna be able to sleep tonight?"

Beatrice nods.

"So, do you want to talk about the email?" Beatrice drops her fork and glances anxiously between them. "You’re not in trouble, kiddo. I promise."

Another thump above their heads, the dishes in the cabinets clatter.

"We probably should’ve spoken to you before today about it, I’m sorry we blindsided you. But our district puts younger children with their siblings’ teachers. We wanted you to have someone we already knew, someone we already trusted. And Shannon loved Mrs. Biles’s class, so we figured that would help a bit with the nerves if you knew Shannon liked her." Martha looks like she wants to reach across the island and bundle Beatrice into her arms. But she doesn’t.

"We can talk to the administration tomorrow and get your name changed, if you would like, but it’s up to you." Rich does reach across the island to ruffle her hair, the contact makes Beatrice’s chest feel warm and gooey. "But it’s whatever you want to do. Whether you want our name or not, you’re still our girl, alrighty?"

Our girl.

"What does that mean?" Beatrice blinks and stares at the bowl in front of her, letting her hair block her face so they can’t see her tears.

"Which part? That you’re our girl?" Beatrice nods, she doesn’t trust herself to speak. Rich takes a steadying breath and moves beside her, crouches so he can catch her eye. "It means that we want you in our family, Beatrice. In whatever way you want to be. We love you, kiddo."

Beatrice stares at him wide eyes wet and red. He holds his arms out for her to crash into, thumping unsteadily into his chest. He holds her, crouched beside the kitchen island and rubbing circles in her back until she stops crying.

Beatrice isn’t certain when she started crying so much.

"Are you certain?" Rich squeezes her before loosening his grip to look her in the face again.

"Of course we’re certain. Nothing will change that." He wipes her tears away under his thumbs, smiling assuringly until she finally pulls away.

"I don’t think it is something I would like to change."

"Yeah?" Martha sounds so eager, desperately trying to fight back a wide smile.

"Yes. As long as it is acceptable to you." She nods finally before tacking on. "And Shannon."

"And Shannon what?" Shannon is panting as she pushes past Martha for a glass of water, cheeks flushed red and hair tousled wildly.

"Beatrice would like to go by Masters at school. She wants to make sure it’s alright with you." Shannon shrugs and wipes sweat from her face.

"I don’t care. Whatever you wanna do, dude." She says it steady, calm and nearly emotionless but there’s a shimmer in her face that tells Beatrice she’s excited by the prospect. "And before you ask, yes I am certain."

Her taunt makes Rich giggle, soft and warm and Beatrice wishes he would do it again.

That night, he lingers in her doorway after their tuck in. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just watches her wiggle in her bed until she finally gets comfortable before finally speaking.

"I love you, Beatrice."

Beatrice doesn’t know how to describe it. The way his voice sounds like a mixture of safety and adoration she’s never been given before. She’s not certain how to describe the way his words make her body feel warm and tingly, presses her chest out a little wider.

Find more here!

[thenightling]

Happy Father's Day to Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher). As corny as it is, this is my favorite Witcher pun (See image).

Explaining the joke: For those who don't get it there is a treat in Germany called Kinder Surprise. It's not sold here in the US because we're idiots... No, really. It's a giant hollow chocolate egg with a prize inside it, just larger than an adult man's fist. Often something like a stuffed animal, or plastic horse, etc. But they won't sell them here in the US because of "Choking hazards." Every other country in the world is fine with them but they're banned here. This has caused lots of Europeans to make fun of us because they think we'd swallow a plushie animal bigger than a TY Beanie Baby even though the candy is covered in labels saying "Do not eat toy inside."

You have a much bigger chance of eating the paper in a fortune cookie.

Anyway, in The Witcher there is a sort of spell called "Law of Surprise" where if invoked, it grants you whatever the person nearest you has that they don't know they have yet. It could be a sack of flour, or a puppy. It's that random. And you cannot refuse the thing and the person cannot refuse giving it to you or Destiny will intercede to make sure it happens.

In The Witcher Netflix series version of the events, Geralt accidentally invoked Law of Surprise in front of a pregnant royal. He tried to flee rather than take someone's child from them but Destiny caught up with him.

The child princess was the sole survivor when the kingdom was attacked. And Ciri (the princess) became Geralt's adopted daughter.

Kinder means child. And a child adopted as a result of Law of Surprise is known as a Child Surprise or Child of Surprise. Kinder Surprise literally is Child Surprise.

[ratsoh-writes]

Mirla got some crafting supplies for Willow and a baking cookbook.

She got Oak a pretty notebook and a sweater for Baconator.

A little bird told Mirla that Red likes a weird alien show, Red got elf Vulcan fake ears under the tree.

Mutt got some coffee beans and a sack of bedding.

Lord got an old war diary. (Freeloader was the snitch on Lord's tastes)

Ram got a pretty knitted blanked, and a pendant with a translator charm (if he wants to read stuff in Spanish, he now can)

Pitch got BOOKS. And some cheese

Helios and Artemis got a loaf sour chicken bread

Butler got some hiking stuff (and a note that said "you are still nasty btw"

Gold got some shadow palettes and a black knitted crop top

Pesto got a vintage cookbook and an apron

Sir got a crimson poison ring:

(It was in Mirla's old box, she just went to a jeweler to polish it)

And she baked ginger cookies in the shape of d*los for the brothel staff

From willow, mirla got some knitted socks and a cute cardigan (and a self help book lol)

Oak contributed by adding some veggie stuffed rolls in the gift basket!

From mutt she got a handsome set of knitting needles and crochet hooks that are enchanted to be summonable for whether she needs them! And a kiss on the cheek

From lord she got some yarn and a little dye kit if she ever wants to make her own custom colors

From ram and pitch she got fresh eggs, and a woven twig basket for her kitchen!

Mirla is friends with Artemis and Helios?

From gold she got foundation in her skin shade (hard to find, she’s impressed) and a fun colorful eyeshadow palate. He finds it quite funny they both thought of makeup for the other

From sir (and the rest of the brothel) she got a thick pair of winter gloves, and to her amusement, a cockroach shaped brooch that says “certified roach hunter” on it

[limitless-rose]

Stray Kids as weird habits/quirks of mine:

Yes, that's how I act, I'm sorry 🙃

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

˚ ♡ ⋆.˚ Bang Chan: Randomly flirting on accident but unable to actually flirt on command. I can openly make 'flirty/suggestive' comments and throw 3 (very) inappropriate jokes in a row to casually respond in a conversation, to the point where my male friends keep assuming I'm flirting with them (I'm really not, that's how I act around people In comfortable with). But if you put me in front of someone I have a crush on, I become hella awkward, I can't even ask them a casual question without somehow messing up, make it make sense 🤷‍♀️ (why did Daddy Issues start playing while I was typing this last part, ffs)

˚ ♡ ⋆.˚ Lee Know: Passive aggressive, semi offensive, sarcastic but still caring comments. Well, just being 'cold' and moody in general. At this point, I get a genuine compliment and turn it into a self depricating joke. Even in deep, meaningful conversations, I tend to throw in dark comments. My fellow STAY friend has actually said that I give off Lee Know energy sooo here it is, I guess 😅

˚ ♡ ⋆.˚ Changbin: Talking loud and fast when I'm excited. Like, I could just be casually talking to my friends about, let's say, cartoons, and once I find out we all watch the same thing, I verbally keyboard smash, lol (you should see me when I find out people I hang out with listen to artists I really like, the other day I found out a girl we met recently is a fan of Weekend and Chase Atlantic, and the scream I let out, gosh). I also do this when I'm really irritated, annoy me enough (or talk shit about something I'm passionate about) and I'm competing with Jisung Changbin Seungmin on who can talk the fastest. I'm talking angry rapper Kim Seokjin level, that's how I am 😂

˚ ♡ ⋆.˚ Hyunjin: Doing my makeup and dressing up when I'm home alone for no apparent reason. Mainly during spring/summer, because in the winter I'm a depressed potato sack, mood so low I procrastinate getting out of bed 🤣 But yeah, it makes no sense, I take my time to get dolled up just to take a hundred selfies (half of which I hate and probably delete) and then go back to watching dramas while eating takeout in my hoodie. Stupid but honestly a nice little confidence boost, a fun activity between crying sessions imo.

˚ ♡ ⋆.˚ Han: Platonically calling my close friends 'babes', 'honey', 'lovely/my love', 'sweetheart' etc (I have also considered using 'papi chulo' as a joke 😂) It just happens mid-convo, especially when a friend can't decide on something. Usually in a passive-aggressive tone, like "Sweetheart, we talked about this a million times already, can you shut up?" or "My love, can you please wait for ONE fucking moment so I can finish doing this?" (and then I use 'dude' and 'bro' romantically, wow Noni, you and your weird brain 👏)

˚ ♡ ⋆.˚ Felix: Baking sweets out of the blue and sharing them with friends/family. I find it surprisingly relaxing compared to cooking (why does it feel so fast paced, lol) and seeing people enjoying what I've made makes me really happy 😊 Not saying I dislike cooking, I'd just rather make chocolate chip cookies at my own pace than stress over the second failed fried egg and the burned bacon 🙂

˚ ♡ ⋆.˚ Seungmin: Jotting down my dreams either in my notes app or in a journal (if they're interesting enough) mostly because I leave sarcastic remarks on them in the margins (might make a post about that) So when I want to have a laugh, I go back to them because they're so random and stupid but they always crack me up 😅

˚ ♡ ⋆.˚ I.N: Collecting plushies. Listen, I'm a simple person; I see something adorable and really cuddly, I buy it (if only it was this easy with relationships too, lmao). I can't help myself when I see cute things, especially with stuffies, like look at their eyes and their small smile and their fluffy bodies and their little arms, so cuteeeee 🥺 Yes, I already have a bunch of teddy bears and other plushies but that won't stop me from getting more of these cuties (also I really want a SKZOO? Like look at them, they're adorbz 💕 but I can't choose between Wolfchan and PuppyM 😭)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Hope you enjoyed this post 🖤

Feel free to drop post ideas in the comments ᵔᴗᵔ

[phantasmalnightmare]

🍪 (bloomingtalent) (For Bakugo)

Bakugo had never cared about valentine's day before, but he could no longer deny that he harbored feelings for his partner. He had to do something special for her, but as he looked at the store's dwindling selection, nothing looked appealing. Store bought chocolate was just so impersonal, and flowers... well that was too much for him. Flowers were so clearly something romantic.

Finally, he decided to bake her some cookies. His Mom had taught him a really good chocolate chip cookie recipe that he could work with. He got permission to use the dorm kitchen and got to work. He set the dairy ingredients out, while he measured out everything else, and he set the oven to preheat. Once the eggs and butter had come to room temperature, he quickly mixed everything in the mixer. The dough was completed, and yet, he was tasked with one more decision.

What shape should he make the cookies in?

It was Valentine's day so he should do heart shaped... but that was so out of character for him, that surely she'd realize how deep his feelings went. "Tch quit your whining. Do you wanna be a shitty side character, or the main one?" The Explosion King asked himself. He made four large, heart shaped cookies, though he had no cookie cutter, so they came out a bit lumpy.

Once the oven rang, he ran over, and pulled the sheet out. He grit his teeth as he saw them. "They look like fucking ball sacks! Ugh. What the fuck was I thinking, making heart shaped cookies?" Well, he'd tried, and he knew they would at least still taste good. As much as he wanted to throw them on the ground in frustration, he knew he didn't have time to make anything else. It was already late and all the stores were closed. After they cooled, he put them in a bag and tied a ribbon around it.

The next day, once class was over, he called out to Hinata. "Hey babyface. Can I talk to you outside for a sec?" Bakugo ignored the curious glances their classmates made. They knew what day it was, after all. He led her to the quad area, under a small tree, before rummaging through his bag.

"Happy Valentine's day or whatever... Thought I'd give you something since we're partners." He tried to play it off cooly, as he handed her the bag of cookies. He was hoping that she wouldn't pick up on the fact that he'd hand baked them, or that they looked like... well a certain pair of extremities. "I don't really care about this dumbass holiday, but figured you would, so yeah." He turned around, in a hurry to leave, feeling uncomfortably self-conscious. "See ya.'

[vikenticomeshome]

Cyberchase - Hey, you guys want to see something cursed?

So, I've been digging around through archives of the old Cyberchase website trying to do another reconstruction on the "How it All Started" web comics that debuted back in December 2001. Sometime around 2002, they redesigned the site. They changed the framing of the pages and removed some of the animations to help fit with the new design. I've been trying to recover everything I can from the original 2001 version, but there are a few pages where the original version appears to be gone forever.

Would you like to see something cursed that I found? I promise I haven't edited this in any way. The web comics typically took video frames from the show, tweaked them, and then added their own drawing on top. We saw some infamous examples on my post about The Hacker's most humiliating defeat, where they used screenshots from the pilot, including sacks of stolen Poddle Eggs that had nothing to do with the story.

Anyway, that wasn't really cursed. This background was used in "How It All Started" episode 3, where we get to meet the kids who would become the CyberSquad. This is from page 7, when they introduced Inez.

Here's a link to the image from an official archive of the pbskids.org website, which is running on the pbskids.org domain, so you know I'm not lying.

And here's a local upload in case that one gets taken down and tumblr loses the link.

Look at this. They halfway erased Inez in her own kitchen to make this background. This is clearly a frame from Season 1 Episode 4 "Snow Day to Be Exact", when Inez and her cat, Gatito, are making jelly bean cookies. Sure, they gave Inez a chocolate chip cookie, but that's hardly an equivalent exchange.

And yet, this isn't the only cursed part about this image. Here's what "How It All Started" episode 3 page 7 looks like.

Okay, so they had a frame of Inez in her kitchen from the show, where she has her canon skin and hair color. They want to use this frame to show Inez using her computer on the kitchen counter. So, they halfway erase Inez from the background to add their own drawing of Inez. They still have part of Inez in that background, with her canon ethnicity, and yet, they still made White Inez.

Despite Inez's ethnicity being established in the pilot, I assumed that White Inez was an anomaly from when they were trying to decide what ethnicity she would be in the final show. I had a similar excuse for the version of Inez from the character bios that used a purple star instead of a yellow one. However, this background proves that they had already written Season 1 Episode 4 "Snow Day to Be Exact" with Inez retaining her original ethnicity from the pilot.

That just makes White Inez from the web comics even more confusing. Plus, the fact that Inez was only halfway erased to make the background feels like either laziness when crafting the background or some sort of inside joke. Anyway, there's no use ranting about it now. My other post going through Inez's character bios and introduction contains my attempt at fixing these Inez drawings, for what it's worth.

[who-is-shades]

raz dnd 24

last time was smiercs funeral sad. and a bad beach day lol.

teya fucks off by herself. senna follows behind her at a distance. sunnie also follows teya. teya locks herself in her room. senna goes around and cleans up and does little stuff. sunnie collapses at the dining table with wheatley. parsley helps senna clean. zen and android are just hanging outside. reminder parsley is disguised as an elf woman.

the next day is sunny. parsley goes to get breakfast ingredients. teya snuck out the window i guess. the bots just shrug cause she wants to be alone. parsley goes in the store and realizes he has no idea what hes getting lol. the clerk asks if they need help and he lies and says 'nope'. he notices they were at smiercs funeral. so awkward xD. he admits he was here to support teya aww. the clerk hopes they can help her, then he talks shit about parsley xD and talking shit about the feywilds. parsley just walks away. hes buying like a fuckton of butter oh no. honey milk and juice. he also got bacon eggs and bread. jam cookies and sausages.

teya is sitting by smiercs grave with her books. parsley sees teya in the distance. he keeps walking cause he feels awkward. time to make breakfast! senna sticks her head outside and asks zen for help cause uh she cant cook lol. parsley helps and also eats some butter lol. zen says thats not healthy but senna says fey love butter so its fine. 'how tf do you know that?' 'oh i have a friend named ribbon, shes a pixie.' then she pours sunnie some juice. hes just a sad sack and just stares at it. he sighs and takes a sip then goes back to moping.

teya is uh looking for a solution oh no. shes sending a bunch of fuck you's to cirmes oh no. senna puts a plate by sunnie but hes unlikely to eat right now. at least he has the option. she gently knocks on teya's door. parsley says shes at the grave. senna is mentally debating going after her. she puts the plate on the table and heads outside. she buys something from the token hmm.

senna sees teya and cautiously approaches but keeps some space. she notices but doesnt say anything. senna just stands there. parsley is trying to make sunnie eat and wheatley helps. sunnie shoves food in his mouth just to make them stop hes so pissed lol. wheatley is satisfied though.

teya huffs and uses hidden step. senna goes to investigate the graveyard. none of the graves look disturbed. she senses faint necrotic magic but she cant find the source. senna heads into town to try and ask about smierc. she approaches an old woman (oh no) and tries to ask some questions but she starts telling her about her son the potion seller. senna follows her to the potion shop. its john the potion seller!

senna explains that how was smierc was found to be odd. she asks about the flowers. they were red poppies. she asks if smierc had them delivered but they were there when they found him. they saw a man in a plague doctor mask leave. she thanks him and buys some health potions. she also goes to buy some oil flasks from the general store. she puts it in the token and he asks if its elven magic lol. she says its not. she waves bye and heads to the library.

parsley is feeding rouge and wheatley is still trying to feed sunnie. teya is investigating the library. its dark and empty. she closes the blinds and lights a lanturn. shes looking for any indication of cirmes. she fails to notice anything lol. she also cant find anymore useful necromancy books.

senna sees the blinds are closed, but shes not surprised. teya snuffs the candle and hidden steps again. she doenst detect any magic or any presence of cirmes. like he was never here. no letters or anything. there is a black and white photo picture of baby teya aww. senna picks it up and is just looking at it. she dusts off the photo, puts it back, and goes to the back room. it smells like a blown out candle.

senna takes out her rapier and asks whos there. no response. she looks for whoever is hiding. teya tries to sneak around her and succeeds. she goes out the door lol. senna hears that lol. she goes back to examining the room. back to the house.

billy set up some signs to the portal for beachness lol. teya sneaks back in her window. senna arrives. zen says they really need to get going soon. god wants them to get a move on. senna comments she last saw her at the library but spooked her off. sunnie goes invisible lol. zen uses the token to find her and yep shes in her room. he goes and knocks and says they have to go. wheatley also calls out to her.

after a minute she comes out. parsley reminds her to put her armor on. she shrugs her stuff on as zen tells sunnie to take care of himself. teya hugs him. sunnie tells her to be careful. wheatley goes to hug him and tells him to take care of himself too.

back to the portal. billy is there doing sign tricks. we make him go back cause were gonna close the portal. we see a scarecrow at the entrance of town. parsley fucking attacks it. theres another one after the first falls over. its pointing. guess were following it. line of scarecrows. parsley is trying to torch the nearest scarecrow. it slaps him in the face lol. he tackles it dammit. wheatley tries to scoop him up. more scarecrows show up and slap parsley. he bolts after teya carrying parsley lol.

its the fucking cabin. oh no. parsley gets smacked again lol. senna uses spare the dying on teya. when wheatley shows up she also uses spare the dying on parsley. teya goes in. wheatley puts down parsley and tries to stop teya from attacking cirmes. yeah shes mad. we cant beat him. he will kill us. cirmes says he can hear us lol. parsley tells him to stfu.

random corpse on the table. he points out teyas bones she gave him lol. he brought us here about smierc. his spirit isnt at rest i guess. unfinished business with teya. he wants to talk to her, if teya lets cirmes do it. she wants her friend back. he says hes gone and he cant change that, she just has this chance to talk to him. she turns to everyone to see their opinions. everyones ok with it.

I KNEW IT ITS FUCKING SMIERC! I FUCKING KNEW IT YOU FUCKERS. FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU

wheatley is startled and falls over. parsley goes wtf. senna says that explains why there was no sense of cirmes in the library. he explains he IS dead. he was this the whole time. he brought her back as cirmes. he did it at first as an experiment. making a lich without taking a life. hes happy she got a body back. he came to care about her. he genuenly loves her and wants her to be happy. thats why he gave sunnie the shop. sunnie didnt know about this. smiercs story ends. everyone has an end. cant avoid death forever. he wants to be as close to it as possible. by becoming a lich. he MUST continue his research. he will find his own way. teya doesnt wanna lose him again. such is loss. she has much experience with loss. its a unique breed of pain. he says she will find a place where she will belong, of support. time heals all wounds. stay strong teya.

teya asks why hes leaving if he knows how painful it is. hes right where he must be. death simply arrives when it wants to. parsley says he is picking it though, cirmes tells him to shut up lol. then he says hes not wrong lol. smierc was too dangerous to keep around. teya and sunnie made him consider giving up. but he just cant. teya says she still needs him. he puts his hands on her shoulders and says she doesnt 'need' him. she can do amazing things and not let his death hold her back. hes merely a ghost that wanted to say goodbye.

wheatley speaks up and asks what they buried. it WAS him, just teleported out. once he puts the mask on, its only cirmes. teya uses mage hand and takes the mask lol and sends it to parsley. he just sighs and asks her not to be difficult. parsley grabs the mask and wheatley looks scared and steps back. he just pulls out another mask lol. he says cirmes will try and kill them if they fight, dont hold back if they do fight. goodbye teya.

senna steps between teya and cirmes. wheatley and parsley wait for teya to make a decision. she cant move. senna gently puts her arms around her and walks her out. cirmes says she can reach her if need be. senna scoops her up and wheatley opens the door. teya weakly waves back at cirmes, but he doesnt wave back the bitch. the door closes.

senna walks away holding teya as she sobs. the cabin is gone. parsley is still holding the mask. zen is just relieved were going. senna sets teya down when she asks. she says she cant go. she says shes not strong enough. shes going home. wheatley is heart broken. zen says we need her, we cannot beat zorbolt with only 3 of us. 'what good is a necromancer against a bunch of constructs?' every fight she ends up on the ground. her family problems are why were behind. teya we literally cant do this without you. parsley says 'no your coming with' senna goes to pick up teya but zens glowing yellow and says stop. wheatley is yelling in rage cause its bullshit. god says he wont take anyone unwilling. teya tells wheatley to keep in touch. wheatley is so mad.

senna puts teya down and says she hopes teya is strong enough to protect sunnie when the enemy comes. 'if i survive...ill come and see you.' senna hands over the space dress and goes through the portal without looking back. teya says she will miss parsley. android says people rarely get the chance to fight for a bigger ideal, shame she threw it away. he wouldve always protected us, inspite of her apparent weakness. he thought she would do the same. then he leaves. parsley says he will miss her too. teya hugs him. she tells him to kick androids ass for her. he goes in the portal. god zen says he hopes teya lives a good life and zen is back to normal. he hugs her and hopes they can still be friends. through the portal, and it closes.

for the record we took a break cause i started ugly sobbing wtf

also uh teya will lose her memories soon. so. that.

wheatley is beating up trees in the woods and screaming. senna silently goes to stand at the town exit without speaking. parsley demands zen send him back he wants to yell at teya. zen doesnt wanna and says they have the sending stone instead. parsley says gods gonna wipe her memory. wheatley hears this and runs over. he says to send him back right now too. teya doesnt know the consequences. zen says no and android also says no. fuckers. wheatley makes a loud mouth noise. android snaps and says she abandoned everyone. yes were aware, but they need to yell at her about it. zen still refuses. teya has a day to change her mind (she wont) wheatley says she left us to die. hes gonna be useless and a liability in there. the ward isnt foolproof. we only have 2 useful party members to put him down if he fails. he thought he finally found his purpose and she threw him away. 'fuck her'

parsley is just staring at the ground. he walks off pissed. heading toward the exit, with the bots following. wheatley tries to hold his hand. parsley takes it. SP speaks up and says "teya, family?" wheatley says teya has left. SP makes sad noises and slumps into itself, keeps rolling. wheatley waves goodbye to beach billy. it immediately becomes cooler from leaving the beach town. just walking down the road.

we stopped cause i have a raging headache. fuck you raz and kay. im gonna get back at you somehow just you fucking wait. fuck you.

[iamvegorott]

Ink Month 2023 Day 13

Flour

“Just a tap and-” Phantom started laughing when Jackie accidentally smashed the egg against the bowl’s rim, getting the slimy mess all over his hand.

“Oops.” Jackie weakly chuckled as he stepped away and washed his hands in the sink. 

“Used a little too much strength there.” Phantom cleaned off the counter and got another egg. Jackie had asked him earlier that day if he could teach him how to make cookies, wanting to make some treats for an upcoming birthday, and Phantom was more than happy to help. Spending time with his himbo, baking, and also being at home alone with said himbo was one of his favorite places to be. 

“A little.” Jackie echoed with another chuckle. “I’ll have to find the perfect medium.”

“Let me help you find it.” Phantom gestured for Jackie to come over with a finger. Jackie nodded and stood where Phantom pointed. Phantom adored how cute Jackie was when following instructions. “Here you go.” He gave Jackie the egg and then held the back of his hand. “Just like this.” Phantom guided Jackie’s hand, having him tap the egg against the bowl hard enough to crack it but not enough to shatter it. “You’re not going to be able to do this one-handed yet, so get your other hand to hold the other end of the egg to pull them apart.” He watched Jackie do as told, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his lips as he concentrated on separating the shell. “Perfect.” Phantom praised with a kiss on Jackie’s cheek. 

“Th-Thanks.” Jackie’s face flushed pink.

“I’ll stir these wet ingredients together, and then we’ll get started on the dry. Do you mind opening the flour?” Phantom pointed to the closed bag of flour.

“On it!” Jackie perked up and grabbed the bag. 

“Usually, I do this the other way, but I figured we’d start with the messier stuff so we can see how much we have to-” The ending to Phantom’s sentence got cut off by Jackie using a little too much strength again, and ended up tearing the paper sack in half and sending the flour everywhere. It covered the counter, the floor, and both men. 

“Uh…sorry?” Jackie coughed. There was a pause after that, and he looked at Phantom, worried he had upset him since he hadn’t said anything yet. 

“I should have seen that coming!” Phantom laughed loudly, clapping his hands and making a puff cloud from the flour. 

“You’re not mad?” Jackie asked, having the same look as a scolded puppy.

“Of course not, Jackie.” Phantom giggled, taking hold of Jackie’s hands and walking with him. “This just means we’ll have to take a quick shower.”

“I don’t know how quick two showers can be with how much flour is on us. You can go first if you-” Jackie stopped when Phantom tugged and got them face-to-face. 

“I meant that we’re taking a shower together~” 

“Oh! That would be a lot quicker!” 

“God, I love you.” Phantom chuckled.

“I love you, too.” Jackie had a big smile as he said that.

“My sweet, sweet, Jackie.” Phantom was so weak for this man. He placed his hands on Jackie’s face and pulled him into a kiss. “Such a good boy,” Phantom smirked when Jackie just gave him a little goofy giggle in response, leaning against his palms. 

He was really weak for this man. 

[augment-techs]

Bulk (crouching down on the curve Jason's grieving on outside the Youth Center so he doesn't freak out the other Rangers, Bulk then picking the karate teacher up like a sack of potatoes): Hey, don't cry. *Half and hour later, in the Scott's empty kitchen, Jason sitting with a mug of steamed milk and mocha while Bulk putters around like he owns the place; Jason suddenly less inclined to cry with the company* Bulk (with poise and dedication to the craft and lesson he's putting on display): Put a cup of peanut butter and a cup of sugar and an egg in a bowl and mix and make small balls of it on a baking sheet and flatten them just a bit with a fork and put them in the oven at 175C for 15 minutes and let them cool for a bit. *Twenty minutes later, after performing said instructions to perfection, wiping everything down and setting a plate of delicious smelling treats in front of Jason before taking a seat across from him at the kitchen island, holding up the biggest morsel with intent* Bulk: And then bite them. Jason (after taking the cookie and chewing on it in silence for a moment): This is exactly how recipes are supposed to be shared.

[ohwynne]

TIMING: Mid-April, a few days after Bear Hug PARTIES: Teddy @eldritchaccident & Wynne @ohwynne LOCATION: Teddy's houseboat. SUMMARY: Wynne comes over for brunch at Teddy's house and after some small talk, the two come to the realization that they have something in common when it comes to human sacrifices. CONTENT WARNINGS: Discussions of bad parentage

It was a nice day and Wynne liked the sea, they’d found, and so they did not mind the walk to the docks. It was possibly the only thing they didn’t mind, as they found themself trying very hard not to mind about Teddy’s failure to cancel. And then they definitely minded that Teddy’s father had recently revealed itself to be a demon with a vested interest in their own history. Wynne considered turning around and going home, but the weather was nice, and their bag held some juice, and the rhythmic falling of their feet offered enough distraction to keep their head from spinning too much.

They rocked back and forth on their feet when they arrived at the boat, their tote bag slamming softly against their side as they did so. There was a moment of hesitation before they opted to step on board, hoping desperately that they’d picked the right boat. Wynne knocked, raised their voice, “It’s me!” 

Their arms wrapped around their body and the bag, staring at a seagull flying by. They really did like it here, near the coast. Wynne tried to focus on that fact: that they’d be near the water for a little while. Saltwater, contrary to the lake they’d grown up at. “Wynne, I mean!”

—

With sleepy eyes and lots of sighs, Teddy’s morning routine was pretty slow going. Dredging themself out of bed was about as effective as carrying a wet sack of leaves through a rake factory. And made just about as much sense. Resting was what they were supposed to be doing, but there were far more fun things on the docket than becoming one with the mattress at the end of the boat. Namely, Wynne. 

Despite themself, their condition, and lack of bodily energy to match the racing mind that never seemed to quit, Teds had invited them over to make up for the flaky mishap the day before. And of course, having someone over for the first time meant… cleanup and playing host. It wasn’t a bad thing. Honestly Teddy loved having people over for the first time. There were always so many “Wow! It's so big on the inside!” moments and “I didn’t think people could decorate with that many sea creatures and still look good!” ones mixed in. Teddy lived for those. Teddy loved impressing people. In any way shape or form. 

The opposite side of that coin of course, was that Teddy hated letting people down. So maybe they were going a little extra with planning this little get together. Somewhere between the cucumber sandwiches, deviled eggs, three types of cookies, two types of tea, and a pot of coffee they might have crossed a line. They definitely overworked themself, and would be feeling it all the more the next day. But hey, Wynne was worth it. 

Teddy swung the door open with a brilliant smile and a beckoning welcome. “Heyy! So sorry about yesterday, was it hard finding the boat at all?” 

— 

Wynne had brought juice and had expected to come across a slow-moving, somewhat messed up Teddy. When they swung open the door and beamed at them, inviting them in, they couldn’t help but feel a little underprepared. It seemed like they were more guest rather than someone visiting a person who might need a little help. Their glass bottle of juice seemed inconsequential compared to the scene that spread out in front of them as they moved into the boat.

“Hey Teds. It’s okay,” they said, even if somewhere it wasn’t and in every other way it was, “No, I found it alright. I’ve gotten good with maps.” It was a vague statement that didn’t get any more explanation. They took in their surroundings quietly while digging in their bag, producing some freshly squeezed orange juice. “I brought you this, as promised.” Wynne held it out for Teddy to take.

They considered their next words with great care, wondering if they should beat around bushes or get right into it. At the end of the day, their immediate surroundings won out. “I’ve never been inside a boat like this. Or on one, to be fair. It’s so …” They gestured vaguely. “So large, you know? And I like how you decorated the place.” They really did. Wynne’s own room in the apartment was so very bare, and they figured they could at some point ask Teddy for some pointers. “Living on a boat must be very special. You can just take your home and go somewhere else. Never really thought about that until now.”

—

As if it couldn’t get any brighter, Teddy’s face lit up when the juice was produced. Eager hands picked up the bottle and inspected it with great care and appreciation. They hummed a self-satisfied little tune before ushering Wynne further into the boat. “You are a lifesaver. This is just what I needed.”  Almost immediately, Ted started fishing around the cupboards for some glasses, picking two that mostly matched and placing them with the rest of the spread out on the table. 

“Sorry, I go a little… overboard… when I have people over. It’s a sort of bad sort of good habit.” Teddy flattened out their hand and wiggled it slightly. “Means we get good sandos though.” Their mind had always been like that. Dive in as deep as they could, and only surface once their lungs were screaming for air. (Even in a literal sense, at least until they could breathe underwater. Then it was a game of seeing how long they could outlast the pain that came with the shift. Levi said they’d get used to it.) Somewhere along the road Teddy had learned they liked hosting for people, even if it was so draining afterwards. They liked seeing people smile over something they had made.  Nothing brought people together quite like food. 

Teddy was far too pleased with themself when Wynne began to compliment the houseboat and its decorations. A boastful pride had them puffing up and preening like a damn bird. Wynne was a much better house guest than their last visitor. Eugh. Emilio. What a fucking chump. “I like the freedom of it. I can go wherever the winds wanna take me, y’know? Does get a bit lonely from time to time, but that’s why I make buddies on shore, right?” 

—

They weren’t used to the ways of hospitality. Protherians didn’t venture out enough to be guests in other places and the people that visited were expected to remain. Still, people shared what they had, because that was the way. And so it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, this welcoming nature of Teddy. Wynne found themself shaking their head. “No, no, I think it’s a good habit.” People in these corners so often didn’t seem to care about those around them, and so moments like these were warm and refreshing. They wondered if Teddy got this from their father, who had insisted on buying Wynne snacks they liked.

The thought was mentally smacked away. “That must be brilliant. To just be able to go wherever, I mean.” That was a half-truth: Wynne just wanted a place to belong, was tired of their previously nomadic existence with no place to call home. With no people to belong to. But then Teddy did have a place — it was this boat, which could be unanchored and float off if they wished. They wondered if they took their people with them or if they were just good at this friendship thing. It had been very easy to grow fond of and used to them, after all. “Have you just been on the North American coast, or other places too?” 

They didn’t want to just sit down and grab some coffee, so they remained standing, loitering with a bit of an awkward air about them. “Are you doing a little better?,” Wynne asked, taking in the other with a look of concern and, perhaps, the tiniest hint of skepticism. They wanted the story of what had kept them from their usual meet up, to soothe their worries. 

—

Teddy nodded along. A good habit, maybe they were right. Probably good for friends, or as close as Teds ever got to those. Less good for… well the aching in their joints that all but begged the demon to please just fucking sit down. A repetitive thought that unfortunately kept them from realizing a similarly flavored need in their guest.  

Something about Wynne’s posture seemed to stagnate, and Teddy realized why after a moment's deliberation. In their haste to show off everything, to play the part of good host, they had managed to… not be a particularly good host. “Oh please, please sit, wherever you like. Whole place is meant to be comfy, so just make yourself at home, help yourself.” The demon gestured to a few available slots, as well as the assortment of goodies. Making sure to grab a few themself so maybe Wynne wouldn’t feel obligated or forced or anything like that. 

Juice was poured, a sandwich grabbed, and Teddy Jones found themself a spot to perch. “Ahh well, you know.” How were they doing? Maybe if they let themself sit still long enough for the thoughts and aches to catch up, they might know. As it was, things were as unsure as ever. 

“Better than yesterday, still not quite… a hundred yet?” They shrugged. If Wynne wanted to know more, hopefully they had sharp enough questions to cut through the hazy fog in Teddy’s head. 

—

A small weight dropped off their shoulders, the uncertainty about what they were supposed to do ebbing away as Teddy allowed them to sit and offered behavior to copy. Wynne felt, at times, like they were an alien, still trying to grasp the habits and ways of the people outside of the commune. There seemed to be so many unspoken rules and even with Teddy (who seemed to care little for them), they found themself fussing in their mind.

They grabbed a sandwich and devilled egg before taking a seat themself. “It really is cozy and comfortable here.” They should take a leaf out of their book, but it had been hard for Wynne to do much decorating in their own room at the flat. It was a bare space, the only exciting thing their duvet cover and the art print Ariadne had given them. It was hard, it seemed, to commit to making the place look like home.

They stared at the other, nibbling on their egg while balancing the sandwich on their pulled up knee. “Well, that’s good! If you keep improving you’ll be as good as old before you know it. D’you want to talk about what happened?” They wanted to know, the same way they wanted to know most things. 

Wynne picked at the sandwich for a moment before tacking on something else, “I met your dad, by the way.” They looked up, wondered if they should just throw it out there that they knew something about Teddy, but as it turned out Wynne was still a bit cautious when it came to demon-adjacent topics.

—

The smile that blossomed at the complement, wilted just as fast with the question. Not quite enough for normal folks to see. The mask was still tight, still working overtime. Teddy didn’t want to talk about it. Not really. There was a lot to process. And they hadn’t quite had enough time to settle on a story that would be satisfying to share. 

Their eyes darted sidelong towards the doorway that led to their bed. Catching a glimpse of the sheets that no longer held… him. Mr. I hate everyone and everything but I still tried to help the animals for some goddamn reason. Mr. Practically push you off a cliff but not really, then try and fucking grab you when you fall. Emilio fucking Cortez. Had neither the manners to thank Teddy for the shit they did, nor the courtesy to just fucking die there instead. 

(Why that second thought put a sour taste in their mouth, who knew?) 

So they shrugged. Leaned back in their seat and let out a long sigh. “Eh it was like I said. I was out late. Trying to find some friends of mine.” A baukbear, among the others who were still out and about there. “Saw some asshole messing with one of them.” Trying to get the damn bear to safety. “Then we both got jumped.” By a hellhound. “There was a bit of a scuffle.” Slashes, bashes, bruises and more. “And we got away.” We being the asshole and Teddy. Not their ‘friend’. Not the bear. Goodbye Cheeto and Carolina. 

“Wasn’t the worst thing to ever happen to me.” That, at least, was one hundred percent the truth. “But I’m just a bit extra bleeuugh today. Y’know?” A zombie like gesture accompanied the sound effect. “Cooking actually kinda… helps put my brain back together. I think it’s something to do with having control, clear directions, and a finished product you can look at and really enjoy. Feels good.” Teddy shrugged. They were by no means a therapist, but they had seen one a few times. Enough to know some jargon. 

“Oh? Family resemblance is uncanny right?” A brighter smile returned as Teddy joked. People started questioning how Levi could have been the kid’s father a long time ago. Now that they practically looked the same age, well, few people believed it, despite the fact that it was the truth. Nowadays it seemed more prudent to just accept that it was a pretty hard sell. “Didja see him on one of the tours or…?” 

— 

How well did they know Teddy, anyway? For all Wynne knew, this was normal for them — just another reckless thing they had gotten themself into. Still, as they told what had happened there was an unmistakable look of concern flashing on their face. It was growing harder and harder for them to keep their face neutral, as if being more in touch with their emotions made it so that they spilled out easier too.

And no, they did not know Teddy all too well. There seemed to be plenty of things they had failed to mention (like, apparently, having some demon magic in their system) and who knew what kind of scuffle this had been. But Wynne did also know that Teddy had prepared all this food for them, despite the fight they’d been in, as well as that they did not feel betrayed by the omitted truths. Wynne too, after all, had failed to mention a few crucial details of their own past and while they thought themself to contain many faults, being a hypocrite was not among them.

“Well, did you at least win? Was this like that, where someone wins?” They shifted a little, picking at their food once more. “And just take it easy the coming days, right? Then you should be all back to normal. You could try some arnica balm for your bruises.” 

Wynne smiled, then, before nodding with enthusiasm, “I get it! I really like to cook. Get your hands busy, too. The scents and the process and the end result … and to share it with others after, that’s best of all.” The kitchen at the estate had been large, with pots and pans always clanging. Wynne had helped her cousins there aplenty, even if they themself were not obligated to do kitchen duties.

They wished to smile as Teddy did, to go along with their joke. Wynne hesitated for a moment, “I mean, it makes sense, ‘cause you’re adopted, right?” They hoped that didn’t sound too forward or perhaps even rude. They picked at their food once again. At some point the sandwich would fall apart, with the way they kept plucking at it. “Um, no. I met him at the shop. And then again, at his house.” Their voice trailed away, as they weren’t sure they felt like throwing out there that they knew about the demon stuff, that there was demon stuff in their past. “He’s nice.”

—

Did they win? The question pulled a hollow bark of air from the demon, not quite a laugh, but certainly disguised as one. The corner of their mouth pinched backwards and Teddy shook their head regretfully. “Wasn’t the type of thing that anyone wins.” The bitter tone in their voice betrayed the soft smile they tried to hold. It was still raw. Still something they’d have to wrestle with for a while. Leaving the bear and the hound just to make sure Emilio didn’t fucking beef it right there. Telling themself that there was a chance, a slight possibility that the baukbear could make it out of that fight in a way that the hunter couldn’t. That they were saving the one who needed it more. 

They were just animals, right? Teddy shouldn’t have cared that much, right? Ever since they were little the demon always found themselves a champion for the voiceless. Levi had done that for them, in a way. Taken in the sacrifice, made them into something so much more. Something worth loving and protecting. Gave Teddy a real family. Even if Teds would never really know what their parents were actually like, what their hopes and dreams were, what they felt when they put their first born on the butcher block… Even if they’d never really know all that, they knew that Lydia and the OG Chuck were shitty enough to kill a kid. Their kid. For personal gain. 

“Adopted, yeah.” Thinking about family wasn’t a sore subject, not unless they thought too much about it. If Teddy’s heart was an ocean, it’d only be the very bottom, mixing in with the silt and marine snow, that held the ache that formed their foundation. An easy smile returned, fondly thinking about the shop, the house on World’s End, and of course, their father. “What were you doin’ over there?” Curiosity was absolutely an inherited trait from Leviathan. “Did something happen?” 

— 

Maybe that had been the wrong question. Something like regret coursed through Wynne’s veins, who felt so out of their depth in this world that this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. That didn’t mean they had ever gotten used to it, though. Conversations sometimes felt like puzzles to solve, where the answer seemed to be known by everyone else involved besides them. “Oh. I guess that also can happen. I don’t know, I don’t get in a lot of fights.” They shrugged, smiled vaguely. “If you hadn’t gathered as much.” 

They looked at Teddy with a crease of the brow, not wanting to press on what seemed to be a sore subject but bad at keeping their curiosity and worry completely at bay. “I’m sorry that happened.” Whatever it was, that had happened. They nibbled their sandwich, finally, and then took a proper bite, forcing their gaze around the room so it didn’t get stuck on Teddy. Wynne knew they were prone to staring, at times.

They took another bite from the sandwich, if only to have an excuse not to answer immediately. While chewing they wondered what their intention here was — did they really want to put it out there, what they had learned? Teddy looked so easy to talk to, though, as they sat there. “He told me what he was. And that you …” They frowned. “Well, I don’t fully get it. But that you have some of that too.” Wynne didn’t call it by its name. Demonic. “And I guess we talked about that.” Among other things. “You know?”

—

“That’s probably a good thing.” At least that was something Teddy could be happy about. Wynne wasn’t the type to go looking for a fight. Teddy knew long before they’d said as much. There was a calmness about them, something that probably hid a secret or two. But that’s what Ted liked about them. They were kind, they were funny, and they were easy to talk to. Wynne had the air of someone who’d been through something awful, but came out on the other side wanting to make people happier for it. Like they had a mission to do so. 

Teddy could relate to that. They could appreciate it too. “Don’t start now, ain’t worth it. Not nearly as many cool belts as WWE would have you believe.” The laugh that followed that was genuine. Hearty. Enough so that it pulled at something inside, one of the many bruises, bumps, or bangs Teds had gotten during the scuffle. Nothing too bad, nothing they weren’t used to. 

“Ahh, well. You know how life is. Some days are sunshine and roses, some are thorns and rain.” They shrugged, and sipped a bit more of the juice. Man, it was good. Something about fresh orange juice, the way it lit you up from the inside out. Really was magical. Good for sickness, of the body or the heart. 

So they knew. Okay. Wynne still came over. That meant something. Leviathan had always been a lot more willing to divulge their demon status. Eons of experience probably hardened it to the sting of rejection that Teddy still struggled to salve. Too many people had turned away from them after finding out. Though, Ted supposed, knowing and seeing were different. Had Wynne seen Leviathan in its truer form? Or did Chuck just let them know about it? 

“Ah, yeah. Y’know. It’s all uncharted territory, but it’s all I’ve ever known. I got adopted and inducted into demonhood when I was just five.” Teddy shrugged again, keeping it as casual as they could. Not wanting to scare them off, or make them think it was somehow worse than it was. “Not terribly different from like… being bitten by a werewolf.” Man they hoped Wynne knew about those already. For some reason demons and the rest of the spectrum of supernatural beings seemed to exist separately. Teddy didn’t get it, but neither did the world either. There was so little accurate info about their kind out there. And Levi wasn’t always the most forthcoming with info. Or rather, Teddy didn’t always know the right questions to ask. “But yeah. Does that… change anything for you?”    

— 

They smiled, shrugged a little, “I guess so. But I’ve got a mean right hook, just watch out.” They did, at least somewhat. Wynne had been taught a few things about punching at the commune, even if violence was generally frowned upon (unless it was used for a ritual, of course). But still, they despised conflict, tended to fold in on themself when someone was angered by their words or actions, growing frozen and quiet and compliant. Sometimes they wished to grow enraged and break all that was around them, but the only time they had ever allowed such a thing was in the woods.

“But no, no, fighting’s not for me.” A life of passivity was what Wynne wanted, where they could easily fade away into the background or melt into their bed. Emilio had spoken about fighting their family and people, but they felt no instinct towards it. They’d prefer to hide out here, let them all be, and never tell them how they thought they might hate them.

They tried to focus on Teddy, on the food they had made and the conversation that trudged on. But their mind was so treacherous, with those poorly suppressed memories and feelings, that moments like these sometimes felt like trapdoors they fell through. Falling while trying to claw up. “Oh yes, I know. Today’s more sunshine then, I hope?” They looked at them. “At least that’s sometimes the best we can do, right? Hope.”

They took another bite from their food, trying to process the information presented to them. Teddy had been five. Wynne had been ten when they knew they were destined to die. Whatever had happened to the other to put them in a position where at five they were adopted by a literal demon? “Did you want that?” The question was asked in a small voice, Wynne not wanting to rip open old wounds but also needing to know if the Leviathan was as good as he pretended to be or if it was simply a very good performance. “You don’t have to, um, tell me. I’m just…”

Their voice trailed off, lips pushing against each other as they frowned, staring at the ground for a moment. “But no, I don’t think it changes anything. I just don’t have the best experiences with demons. Up until now, I guess. Your dad is nice.” But niceness could be deceptive and Teddy’s open nature could be, too. They had gotten into a fight just yesterday after all. “And I feel like I can trust you even more than him of course, and like you’re not like the demon I knew before. You know, that’d be unfair. To judge you by that. But I don’t think you’re like It.” Otherwise he’d surely have tied them to a tableau already and sunk a blade into their neck. No, Wynne didn’t think Teddy was awfully malicious, just maybe more mysterious than they had given them credit for. 

—

Secrets often unfolded at the center of stories. Even unintentional, like the ones painted by Wynne’s expression as they went on a little nostalgia trip. For better or worse. Teddy studied, the more they did the more concern laced into their own features. Whatever was back there for them was pulling at a lot of heart strings. Piercing a dull pain that the demon could parse. Others of Ted’s ‘species’ might be able to literally feel those sorts of things. When someone was hurt. In need. When people were at their lowest they were most likely to make deals. Those demons probably didn’t feel a need to fix those problems though. Not the way Teddy did. 

You can’t fix what you don’t know, and it wasn’t exactly the right time to pry. Not unless Wynne opened up for themselves. All Teddy could do was be open and ready to listen if they did. “Good. It’s much better that way. I’d avoid it if I could, y’know? Sometimes trouble finds me.” Half a lie, but good natured. There was something exhilarating about a fight. Blood pumping, feeling the struggle turn into triumph. Only when it was a good fight though. The night of the bear and hound was not anywhere near a good fight. 

“Certainly is now!” Teddy affirmed, raising a cup of juice as if it were the finest champagne. “You brought the sunshine with you. You’re like a big bright sunflower y’know that Wynnie?” Wynne had that way about them. It was why Teddy liked their park visits so much. They didn’t have to do all that posturing and pretending that they so often did with others. They could just… be. 

“Well, I mean, I would’ve died if it didn’t take me in.” The somber statement was followed quickly by a bout of laughter. Teddy had been told the story many times. They were far too young to actually remember all of it. Especially with how spotty their memory could be sometimes. They certainly had no problem recanting. Especially in a situation like this. Where not knowing meant Wynne would speculate. Which was almost always worse than the truth. 

“My birth parents were going to use me as a sacrifice. Got like, 99% of the way there, but I guess my mom was kind of a bitch to Leviathan and it decided to play house with me instead.” The words had bite, sure. But there was an undeniable softness as Teddy told them. Not at those that bore them, but at the demon who took them in. Lydia and the OG Chuck could rot in… whatever dimension they had opened up a portal to. 

“Don’t think there’s anyone out there quite like me.” Wasn’t a prideful thing, though Teddy was in no short supply of it. “Far as either me or my dad knows, I'm the first of my kind. Don’t know if I’m still human at all anymore.” The host shrugged. Bit off another bite of sandwich to munch upon as they mused. “But neither of us Joneses are much like other demons out there. Gabs is closer, worse if he hasn’t had lamb within like, twenty-four hours or so.” 

— 

There was something about Teddy that had drawn them to them, as if Wynne sometimes had the right instincts after all. They didn’t believe in fate – that wasn’t part of what Protherians practiced, after all – but there was something about it all. How they’d come across a shop owner who turned out to be a demon, and a somewhat helpful one at that. That his child was someone Wynne already knew on an amiable level and now sat across, eating their food as they called them sunshine.

It wasn’t fate, but there was something about it all. They smiled at his words, vaguely and absentmindedly. Wynne didn’t know how to cope with the fact that people not only got to know them now, but formed opinions. Positive ones, at that. With all they concealed, all that ate away at them, it felt like a game of deception. “You’re sweet.” They didn’t want to argue with Teddy, tell them that no, I don’t know that I’m a sunflower or anything that could be bright, like that. “And well, you’re brilliant and radiant yourself. It’s contagious.” It really was. 

But they couldn’t laugh along as Teddy told their story, unfolding a truth that made Wynne grow awfully still, as if they were glued to their seat. Their muscles stiff, their jaw growing tight and their eyes trained on the other. There had been one other person that had been like them that they had known, but they were dead. They hadn’t really spoken with Jac about it, though, in the few moments they had both known of their shared fates. They certainly hadn’t laughed the way Teddy did.

They hadn’t expected this, of course. They wanted to open their mouth, undo that tight jaw and explain that they had undergone something similar, that their parents had been willing to let them die in the name of sacrifice too. But there was a moment of stillness, of sadness and repressed anger as they took it in. How many people were out there, willing to let others die for a demon whose name they didn’t know? How many of those demons were like the Leviathan, if any? 

“I’m sorry that they were willing to do that to you.” Wasn’t that what Emilio had said to them, which had subsequently unlocked the tears Wynne had never cried for themself before? “And glad that your father, well. Did what he did.” Why did it have to be innocents, slayed on an altar? Sheep and smaller creatures, a young person barely grown fully into themself, with no choice in the matter? What of all those fucking bystanders, the elders and mentors and parents? Would anyone have stopped the patriarch from slitting their throat, or was it Wynne themself who had saved their life? 

They shaked nerves from their hand. “My parents were also going to have me sacrificed. Not just them. A lot of people were. I, well, I ran away, before the evening in question. I couldn’t do it.” They looked at Teddy nervously. “I guess we have that in common, huh? That we would have died. If we’d have stuck around our parents. Or something like that.” No, they didn’t believe in fate but this was something. But maybe there was a higher power than the demon they’d been made to worship after all. “But you, yes, you’re different. Than the one I was supposed to — well, than the one we worship. Worshiped." 

—

Teddy watched as wave after wave seemed to hit the other. Wynne’s emotional boomerang at Ted’s story. It wasn’t exactly the reaction they expected. Though to say they had expectations at all would be a lie. There had been maybe two people Ted had ever told this story to? The people who had earned it could not have been more different. Their responses, too, varied as the fish in the sea. Each time told it gained a bit more melancholy. Grew a bit morose, despite the laughter they told it with. A defense mechanism is what some might call it. Make a joke of the thing that hurts you, then it can’t hurt you anymore. 

Teddy hadn’t yet found the exact quip to make it lose the sting. Nor the effect it had on others. 

They saw the way their guest pulled into themself. Their response brought a little light to the ever growing shadow that danced across their features. A wisdom and fear far beyond their years. “You too huh?” No one ever said anything like that to Ted. No one ever really stuck around passed the turning into a demon part. Wynne’s story had a different tune though. Adagio played in red. Wynne had known their fate. “How old were you?” 

There was comfort in the way Lydia had done it. Almost sweetness. Only in comparison to what must have made Wynne run. Teddy hadn’t known they were to be a sacrifice. Teddy was too young to know much of anything at all. Teddy was too young to even remember their mother’s face, her voice, or really any details at all. All they knew, was that their parents had given them candy. A rarity. And they went to sleep. They weren’t supposed to ever wake up. Just as the Leviathan wasn’t supposed to disobey the orders Lydia had set forth. Guess both remaining Joneses were a bit more rebellious than ever intended. Guess they fit together even back then.

“Worshiped?” Curiosity washed away the bitter flavor gathering at the back of Teddy’s throat. “Is that something you wanna talk about?” Please say yes, they thought. Though they would obviously accept if the answer was no. “I’m glad though. That you made it out. That you made it here. Seems like Wicked’s Rest is a good place for all us misfits. We fit together here. It’s kinda… nice.” 

—

What an ugly thing to share with someone, and yet Wynne found something in it that was almost hopeful. There was no one out there who could understand it, and they were glad for it, but maybe this was as close as they could get. Besides, here they still were, having brunch on a boat and very much alive. Teddy had been separated from their parents much longer ago too, and look at them now! Maybe the future held plenty for them, too. 

But besides the small inkling of hope, they just felt something like sadness for the both of them. They nodded. Me too. “Have you ever met anyone else who —” Their voice trailed off and they shrugged a little, wondering what the point of that question was and if they even wanted to know how many parents were out there, willing to see their child die.

“I was ten when they told me. And I was supposed to die last year, late fall.” A decade of knowing they were going to die, a teenagehood spent trying to grapple with the responsibility. Quelling any rebellion that came with puberty and having a duty larger than oneself, holding their head high as people thanked them, pre-grieved them, envied them. Most of their life had been about that one date, that night where the knife would come down. And now there was a life stretched out in front of them, long and luscious and filled with opportunity. Wynne was terrified of it. “Six when I saw the first sacrifice, but that was just a lamb.” Just a lamb. 

For a moment they closed their eyes, feeling heavy and exhausted, but then Teddy was asking more questions and they looked up. “I guess. If you want to know.” It was good to talk about these things, or that was what Google had told them. “Someone made a deal, a very long time ago, with It. Gythraul, the demon. For good fortune and crops and everything else that they needed. They were starving, back then, and It saved them. But It needed something in return, of course. Reverence and sacrifice.” They bit their lip. “Most of the time just animals, but humans too. To keep it at bay. One time It killed all the children, when the community tried to disobey it and —” Wynne’s lip was trembling now. “So we worshiped it.” Until they hadn’t and who was to say what had happened, since?

They pulled up one of their legs, putting the sandwich aside. Their mouth tasted ashy. “I’m glad I came here. I think maybe I could stay here a while. Because of all the misfits.” And the fact that some were kind demons or protective hunters that Wynne had somehow managed to get to care for them. “It’s better, here.”

— 

Empathy and sympathy came far easier to the demon than maybe it ever should. Teddy often wondered which side it came from, who grafted it into their personhood. The ability to watch someone’s emotions play out on their face, and feel it so deeply themselves. Their heart ached alongside Wynne’s, it only seemed fair to choose a seat that reflected it. 

Teddy scootched in on the spot their guest had found for  themselves. Knocking their knees against Wynne’s, offering a sad and warm smile. Their guest spoke, and they listened. Calmly taking in all the words, despite the fire they ignited deep within. It wasn’t often Teds got very angry. But hearing about a community that continually and routinely hurt people, hurt kids for their own gain… Hell, if it actually existed and wasn’t just some other demon’s personal pocket dimension, didn’t seem like enough of a punishment. 

Still, they had raised Wynne. In the short time that Teddy had known them the demon had seen how kind, considerate, and open the ex-sacrifice was to the world. How much they poured themselves into anything they decided to do. Hearing the ways the world failed them, the way it tried to destroy them and seeing exactly how Wynne turned around and became something spectacular anyway? Well, Teds already knew they liked the kid. This was just chocolate syrup on a sundae. 

“Can’t say I’ve met many others.” Or really any. Would Teddy pay the world back in kind, they wondered, if they had met another kid being offered to them? Whoever this Gythraul was sounded like a real piece of work. Using its abilities for a selfish gain that made Leviathan look like a goddamn saint. 

“You and me, we’ll start a club. Okay?” The demon chuckled softly. With a playful lean, Teddy pushed their shoulder into Wynne’s. Let their quiet smile grow and return to the radiant expression they often wore. “We’ll get jackets. Or somethin’, I haven’t gotten that far.” Ted’s hand found Wynne’s, squeezing it and raising it like a champion about to receive a medal.

“We’re The Survivors.”  

[talesfromsiteredacted]

SCP: Standard Cooking Protocols

As part of the new Enrichment Protocols, I'm tasked with giving a cooking lesson to 053, Evie. Today's lesson: Papa Snow's Anomalously Delicious Chocolate Chunk Cookies. Since my favorite niece can barely see the counter, never mind work an oven, she's sitting on a stool handing the premeasured ingredients to me.

It's early afternoon, and the first activity in the new division is underway. Evie wanted to know how my dad taught me to bake her favorite cookies, so I'm showing her. We're in the staff breakroom kitchen, both in lemon print aprons. I tied Evie's hair back in pigtails, no one likes hair in their cookies, least of all our big cranky reptile buddy. Once I pin my hair into a messy bun, we get to work. I've measured out all the stuff from flour to vanilla, in the exact amounts, most of it in plastic bags except the eggs.

"Okay, first we need the sugar and the butter. Add a splash of vanilla, and I'll whip the whole thing up. That's step one."

"Why the sugar and butter first?" Evie asks as I add the sweet powder to the dairy component. As I blend it, I explain.

"By mixing the so-called wet stuff first, we can get it more evenly mixed. Pretty sure not everybody is into big hunks of butter in their cookie dough." Once I'm satisfied, I move to the next part. Evie passes the eggs and vanilla, and I pour the brown liquid in.

"The trick to not getting shell in the bowl is just crack them gently on a flat surface, then bend back the shell." I show her Dad's method. No shell, no problem! In they go, a-one, a-two, then more mixing.

"Can you eat eggshells?"

"You can, but I think they're a bit too crunchy to catch on as a snack." I check the recipe. Ah, the dry phase can begin.

"Flour, please." Evie hand over the largest sack, I snip off a corner with scissors and use the open tip to funnel the flour in. It's an advantage to premeasuring, even if doing it is a pain in the buns. Even so, there's still a bit of stray flour before I'm done. The rest of the powdery stuff goes in next, baking soda and a tiny bit of salt.

"Why add the salt?"

"It brings out the sweet in the cookie, makes it taste better. This stuff was once so valuable the Romans used it to pay the army. That was before refrigeration was a big thing, and there wasn't ice around. It preserves food too. Just don't go eating a lot of salted meat without water, it dries your mouth out a little too much." I turn to my eager assistant. "I've been doing all the work here, wanna dump in the chocolate chunks for me? Just pull the top open, and let them rip." Evie pours in the chunks, I start stirring again. As I do, I ask her a question.

"So, Most Trusted and Best Baker's Helper Ever, what do we do with all these cookies once they're baked and cool?"

"We eat some, silly!"

"We eat all these, we'll be sick. Maybe one or two for right now, then we box the rest up to share with Mr. Lizard later, during storytime? I'm sure the big guy likes a good cookie too."

"Well, there is a lot of them. Maybe someone else needs a cookie too. Ooh! 999! He loves cookies. Why don't we save him some?"

"Great idea, Evie. Wanna hear a secret? I heard one of our new hires, Dr. Miller hasn't had a cookie in a while. I'll take her some on my way to see some of the Keters. I do have to drop off a dozen to 682, after all." I look at the bowl, yep. We have achieved dough. Time to bake. This is the part Evie shouldn't be too involved with as a kid, that oven is hot. So, time for a visit to Nook's Cranny while Auntie Rabbit finishes the job and tidies up.

"Okay, break time, Evie. It's going to be a while before the final product, so why not check out your village? I have the game set, have fun. Say hi to Bob for me."

She starts playing my DS while I handle the rest. Before long, everything is done, including the dishes. Evie looks up.

"All done so soon?"

"Yep. I learned to clean up as I go, leaves more time for fun that way. The cookies are almost ready to be packed up. But... there's the final step. This is the most important part, okay? So, total honestly here. Are you ready for the final test?"

"What is it?"

"We each eat one, and say if it's tasty or not. This was the part Dad told me was both the best and hardest, judging what you made. Ready? Here comes phase one test. Evie, start your chompers!" She giggles as I hand her a fresh cookie. She takes her first bite, and that huge smile tells me we have succeeded. As she's devouring the test sample, a familiar orange gelatinous mound of glee wobbles in, lured by the scent of fresh cookies.

"Hey, 999? Mind running an unauthorized test for us?" I hand him a cookie, placing it on his top. It sinks in, he chirps in happiness. "Okay, test successful. We have made some very good cookies." We box up most of the rest to be shared, but we all take just one more cookie each.