guys…guys…steph getting softer with age and cass being both filled with so much love and relief because steph is finally relaxing but also being filled with so much terror because now steph is more vulnerable and fragile
the horror of realizing that she too is human and growing less capable of protecting the people she cares about in her old age…guys…
" AAAUUUGUHHH DIE you GrOTeSquE bASTARDDDHH- even if it means i die too.. rAGHH-!! Neither. one of us. Can Die. OOHHH SAY CAN YOU SEE!- i command you. to- byyYYyy the dAaAWWnS- help me -eArrrlyyy Light- JOHN. CRICHTON. I COMMAN-WHAT SO PROU-MAND-DLYYYYYY- YORJJJJJDOIAJOPF,PGKSPDOKLH"
hiii everybody are you normal about Falin showing Laios the same little spell that Marcille showed her? are you normal about Falin remembering it fondly enough that it was one of the first things she showed her brother while trying to teach him magic?
baker!simon who’s known for the bit he’s got going on – something you wished your friends would’ve told you because the first time you walked into the niche bakery (at six am to boot) and saw simon, big and tall and inked and masked simon, you screamed bloody murder.
“jesus-!” he yelled back in surprise, almost dropping a tray of freshly baked shortbreads before whipping his head up to see what was going on only to feel like he’s been punched in the gut because there you stood by the entrance, bundled up with thick jackets like you’re preparing for winter even though fall was just settling in, your hair a haggard mess and your face gaunt from exhaustion, and looking like all parts of simon’s dream woman.
“um,” you stammered, staring at him with wide eyes and trembling hands, your heart hammering in your chest as you began to panic. “i, uh. i’m…?”
simon watched as you continued to stammer before finally taking pity on you. he placed the tray on the counter and turned to fully present himself to you, spreading his arms out in hopes that it would show you that he’s not dangerous. that you would see his flour-covered apron and see that all he’s got going on in life is baking, and then instantly be enamoured with him.
“you here for breakfast?” he asked, clearing his throat upon hearing the awkward croak of his voice. thank god for his mask because he was able to hide the flush of his cheeks, allowing him to continue to play it cool in front of you.
“yes?” you replied, still confused as to why the… baker? was wearing a homemade skull mask.
“sure,” he said and you watched as he wiped his hands on his apron. “come over here then. what’d you want to order?”
baker!simon who isn’t really a big sweets enthusiast but whose desserts are the best in the block. you asked him what made him pursue this career and you watched as he stilled, his face falling slack like he can see something you couldn’t – like he is reliving a memory – before shaking himself with a deep inhale and finally whispering, “for my brother.”
you did not probe any further, your heart heavy with guilt, but simon just turned to you with a small smile and asked, “wanna hear about ‘im?”
he gathered you in his arms as he recounted the few fond memories he has of his childhood, and you breathed him in, smelling the faint smell of macaroons and toasted butter on his skin.
baker!simon who begins dedicating his daily special treats to you. “for the apple of my eye,” when it’s apple fritters day. “for my beloved cheri,” on cherry pie day. “for my precious sugar,” on sugar cookies day.
baker!simon who proudly prances around in his frilly pink apron that has “husband material” embroidered on the chest. you gave it to him as a gag gift but simon loves it so much that he began to wear it to work, showing it off to his friends with a deep chuckle.
“my girl got it f’r me,” he says to johnny. “pretty, isn’t it?”
johnny nods amidst laughter, his body folded into himself as he clutches the counter for support.
-
fuck. baker!simon might even be better than biker!simon
having bpd is actual hell on earth cause no one tries to fucking understand you and they write you off as being difficult and too much and they leave and we’re left with this fucking personality disorder that consumes my entire fucking existence and they act like its THEIR inconvenience that IM ill.