I’m a bit of a slow reader, but I’ve been plugging away at The Fourteenth Year of Chenghua since, like, March, and I’m in the low chapter 80s now, and the slow burn is getting more and more brutal now that Sui Zhou definitely definitelyrecognizes that he is hopelessly in love and Tang Fan is still a clueless dumbass solidly in “I always feel so happy when Sui Zhou is around I wonder what’s up with that” and it’s killing me.
(eta: Okay, I’m going to pretend this was intentionallywritten as a fill for today’s May Trope Mayhem, which is The Grumpy One is Soft for the Sunshine one. I…didn’t actually plan it to be that…but then it go long and fuck it, might as well make it count…) @duckprintspress
So I was just thinking, like…
Tang Fan has been working a case, and he was in danger, and Sui Zhou has justheard that Tang Fan needs rescuing…when Tang Fan walks in the front door of Sui Zhou’s house. The panic instantly switches to relief, then to annoyance when Tang Fan looks at Sui Zhou like he cannot fathomwhy Sui Zhou was freaking out.
“It’s no big deal,” Tang Fan laughs it off. “I’m totally fine! You’re over reacting.”
“I am NOT,” Sui Zhou replies, the mess of emotions making is voice loud as he slams a hand against the door behind Tang Fan, trapping Tang Fan in place. (kabedon!) “Ido not over-react. Youunder-react. I know you, Runqing. I know you wouldn’t tell me even if you’d been in mortal danger. Tell me, truly, how serious was it?”
And Tang Fan opens his mouth to answer with a light-hearted jibe only to find he can do nothing but swallow the words, because Sui Zhou is staring at him so intensely, his eyes so bright and dark and gorgeous, his expression so fixed and serious. His heart starts racing worse than it had when he (definitely hadn’t been!) in peril, and he can’t imagine why.
“I can’t…” Sui Zhou catches his lip between his teeth, manages a slow blink in a clear effort to calm himself down, takes a deep breath, and continues, “Just promise me that next time, you’ll ask for help if you need it.”
“I always ask for help when I thinkI need it,” lies Tang Fan blithely. Why does Sui Zhou care so much, anyway? Why do I like that he cares so much? “But it’s not like I can predict ahead of time when things will go sideways. Not that anything went sideways this time! Really, it’s no big deal. You know the job I do, just like I know the job you do. Danger’s part of the deal. You don’t need to–”
“You don’t need to go looking for it,” interrupts Sui Zhou. He knows he sounds harsher than he wants to. He knows he’s acting inappropriately. He’s still got Tang Fan pinned against the door, still has their faces barely a hand’s width apart, still can feel his heart in his throat, still wants…still needs…he tries another slow blink, but it gets him absolutely fucking no where. There’s such a cacophony of wordsin his head, Don’t you understand, Runqing? I need you. I love you. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I can’t - I can’t - I can’t– but there was no speaking a one of them aloud. Tang Fan doesn’t look at him that way. Sui Zhou knows that. He does. And–
“Why do you care so much?” whispers Tang Fan, and Sui Zhou’s blood goes to ice. One touch, one word, even the faintest quirk of a smile on Tang Fan’s achingly kissable lips, and Sui Zhou is going to shatter.
How can he possibleanswer that question?
Andwhyis Sui Zhou choosing nowto be silent? Tang Fan cycles rapidly through potential reactions - should he laugh it off? Brush Sui Zhou’s arm aside (as if he coulddo that, unless Sui Zhou lets him, and oh, thinking about how strong that arm just over his shoulder truly is shouldn’t be so tempting)? Duck and run away? Open the door so they both tumble into the street beyond and return to his own home next door? Call for Dong-er?
Yet, to his amazement, before Tang Fan can finish planning and implementing an escape plan. Sui Zhou actually speaks.
“How…” Hoarse with emotion, Sui Zhou pauses, licks his lips - which is far, farmore distracting than Tang Fan would ever have imagined - then continues. “…how do you not know, Runqing?”
Every instinct demands Tang Fan act like this is somehow a joke. He knows it’s not - he knows Sui Zhou better than he knows anyone, better than he knows himself sometimes he thinks, and there is absolutely no way Sui Zhou would joke about something like this. Tang Fan wantsto know, but what if it’s not the answer he hopes for? (What answer does he hope for?) Tang Fan wants to guess, but what if he guesses wrong? (What would he guess, if he had to?) Tang Fan yearns,craves Sui Zhou’s presence, but most days even he’snot sure what that means, how is he supposed to know what that means? (No matter what Guangchuan says next, will Tang Fan even know how to answer it?)
He desperately prays that Sui Zhou will continue before Tang Fan has to formulate an answer…
…I skipped yesterday cause I was still thinking about the same 4 seconds of Hualian A/B/O on infinite loop but I had some insomnia last night and had a new nugget.
Rating: Mature
Modern AU. Liushen. Mentions of Bingliushen. Warnings for misgendering, mildly dubious consent due to alcohol, internalized homophobia, and “Liu Qingge is too tsundere for his own good.”
WAIT I JUST REALIZED: Call this one May Trope Mayhem day 8: In Vino Veritas!
May Trope Mayhem is a multi-fandom/original creation event open to writers, artists, and content creators of all kinds! We’ve put together a list of 31 of our favorite tropes, one per day through the month of May, and we encourage creators to join us for this month of fun tropey mayhem.
Our goal is to promote motivation and help with habit building, so we’re encouraging people to keep their ficlets under 1,000 words, or if you make art or a gif or some such, to stick to a sketch or a single image.
This event is primarily held on Tumblr, but you’re welcome to participate on anywhere Duck Prints Press has an account (you can see all our current platforms here) and we’ll keep our eyes on our tag everywhere!
How can you participate? It’s easy! There’s just a few simple rules:
to participate, write a ficlet, a poem, create art, make a gif, or create any other content that you want, aligned with the prompt for the day!
post your correctly tagged fills to Tumblr, and we’ll reblog them!
you must tag warnings such as gore, MCD, sexual content, etc., so that people can avoid triggering material!
please also tag fandom and ship, so people can find what interests them!
we ask that you put the tags at the top of your post, so they’re easy to find.
if you write more than 1k words, please use a read more,
if you write something with NSFW content or potentially triggering material, please put the entire story under a read more.
Ping us (@duckprintspress) or tag your creations “#may trope mayhem” and so we can find them! We’ll reblog all fills that follow the above rules and are posted between May 1st and June 8th, 2022.
You don’t have to sign up, just post your fills. You don’t have to be a member of the Press, or following us. You don’t have to be part of a specific fandom. We’re open to all ships, genres, formats, etc.! You don’t have to post fills on the corresponding day, though we ask that if you’re creating for a day that hasn’t happened yet, please wait for that day to post.
This is a low-pressure event, held all in good fun, and we look forward to seeing what you create!
May Trope Mayhem, Day 16: The Grumpy One is Soft for the Sunshine One (Technically, this also counts at 15: Hurt/Comfort, I guess?) for @duckprintspress
Summary: Courtney is the world’s worst barista and Bianca is smitten from afar…then thrown for a loop when she finds her crying in a club bathroom.
A/N: Decided to throw my hat into the ring. And look. I know that the point of these challenges is to get us out of our comfort zone and to try something new. Instead, I am doing the opposite and literally using a trope that’s pretty much the entire basis for the ship I’ve been writing since 2015. And…that’s just what it is. Not sorry about it. Thank you to the always lovely @artificialcandycane for beta reading.
Tags: may trope mayhem, rpdr fanfiction, bianca del rio, courtney act, bitney, bob the drag queen, monet x change, miz cracker, fluff, lesbian au, veronica
N/A: I was having fun with Mayhem and then life grabbed me by the name and threw me into a puddle, as it does. This was fun though, so maybe I’ll write more prompts. The best antidote for winter cold is writing fluff.
For@duckprintspress: Day 9/The Only Solution to a Love Triangle is…
Tags: may trope mayhem, rpdr fanfiction, juice x lemon x priyanka, juice boxx, lemon, priyanka, fluff, lesbian au, poly, mar
Summary:
“So it’s been weeks of back and forth and I feel like we’re finally at a good point where we all know what we want. We all like each other, we all want to date each other. Right? Right?” Juice pointed the marker at Lemon and Priyanka. They both nodded. “Now we could let things develop organically, but I think it will be more fun if we all follow a very strict schedule!” With this, she faced the whiteboard towards her… maybe girlfriends? Titles were yet to be discussed. It was item three at the meeting.
Juice, Lemon and Priyanka avoid a messy love triangle by deciding to be a triad, but that is only the beginning. There is still a lot to be discussed, and Juice knows the only solution to a love triangle is—
…well, it started as me thinking about Yanshen first kisses, but then I got distracted by, ahem, more explicit Yanshen.
Like…
(actually, wait - I can already tell I’m about to Really Write This, and so we’re calling this another May Trope Mayhem fill - Day 11, There’s Only One Bed!!)
Fandom: Thousand Autumns
Ship: Yan Wushi/Shen Qiao
Rating: EXPLICIT!
Tags: Canon divergent, mildly dubious consent, Yan Wushi is always an unreliable narrator
May Trope Mayhem is a multi-fandom/original creation event open to writers, artists, and content creators of all kinds! We’ve put together a list of 31 of our favorite tropes, one per day through the month of May, and we encourage creators to join us for this month of fun tropey mayhem.
Our goal is to promote motivation and help with habit building, so we’re encouraging people to keep their ficlets under 1,000 words, or if you make art or a gif or some such, to stick to a sketch or a single image.
This event is primarily held on Tumblr, but you’re welcome to participate on anywhere Duck Prints Press has an account (you can see all our current platforms here) and we’ll keep our eyes on our tag everywhere!
How can you participate? It’s easy! There’s just a few simple rules:
to participate, write a ficlet, a poem, create art, make a gif, or create any other content that you want, aligned with the prompt for the day!
post your correctly tagged fills to Tumblr, and we’ll reblog them!
you must tag warnings such as gore, MCD, sexual content, etc., so that people can avoid triggering material!
please also tag fandom and ship, so people can find what interests them!
we ask that you put the tags at the top of your post, so they’re easy to find.
if you write more than 1k words, please use a read more,
if you write something with NSFW content or potentially triggering material, please put the entire story under a read more.
Ping us (@duckprintspress) or tag your creations “#may trope mayhem” and so we can find them! We’ll reblog all fills that follow the above rules and are posted between May 1st and June 8th, 2022.
You don’t have to sign up, just post your fills. You don’t have to be a member of the Press, or following us. You don’t have to be part of a specific fandom. We’re open to all ships, genres, formats, etc.! You don’t have to post fills on the corresponding day, though we ask that if you’re creating for a day that hasn’t happened yet, please wait for that day to post.
This is a low-pressure event, held all in good fun, and we look forward to seeing what you create!
A/N: Found families my beloved. This is both for the Pride 2022 challenge and May Mayhem Tropes (day 19). Part of the Jankie Parenthood Universe, featuring Lemon as a reluctant last resource babysitter, and Gigi as the judgiest kid ever. Some background about this universe: Lemon, Jan and Jaida are (step)sisters, Jan is dating Jackie, Jackie is Gigi’s mom. Gigi is five, and the sisters are all in their twenties.
Tags: rpdr fanfiction, may trope mayhem, lemon, gigi goode, jaida essence hall, jan sport, found family, kid fic, jankie parenthood au, mar-@duckprintspress
Summary:
“You can’t get a new babysitter?” asks Jaida.
“Not one we know. We can’t just leave a five year old with a stranger,” Jan says.
“Well, who else is left?”
A little notification chimes from Lemon’s phone. Both of her sisters turn to look at her, and Jan’s face lights up.
“No.”
“Lem, please,” Jan says, sitting down next to her sister as if to better plead her case. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
“Wiping kids’ butts and feeding them beet puree is not my idea of a good time.”
“How old do you think Gigi is?”
“Alright. No, I– no, don’t worry, honey, feel better.”
Jan hangs up the call and groans, throwing her head back.
“What?” Jaida asks from the couch, where she and Lemon are spread in an unmoving pile. They collapsed on the couch after their respective dance classes and have not moved since.
“Freaking flu season.” Jan drops her phone on the table. “Both of our babysitters are sick, and now there’s no one to watch Gigi tonight. We’re gonna have to cancel.”
“No,” Jaida says, grunting as she gets up from the couch, ignoring Lemon’s protests. “You’ve had those tickets for months! You both need a night out, just adults. It’s healthy.”
“What else can we do? Pri’s busy, Jackie’s dad is sick too, and Shea and Sasha are still in Mexico.”
“What about Brita?”
“I already asked, she’s helping her sister paint the nursery.” Jan rubs her neck, thinking. “You are not free tonight, are you?”
“I would, you know I would,” Jaida says, taking her hand. “But I promised Nicky I’d model her dresses so she can finish them. You can’t get a new babysitter?”
“Not one we know. We can’t just leave a five year old with a stranger.”
“Well, who else is left?”
A little notification chimes from Lemon’s phone. Both of her sisters turn to look at her, and Jan’s face lights up.
“No.”
“Lem, please,” Jan says, sitting down next to her sister as if to better plead her case. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
“And I wouldn’t say no if I could help.”
“We’ll pay you.”
Lemon rolls her eyes at the ‘we’. It’s like in everything Jan does lately, Jackie is included.
“It’s not about the money, Jan.”
“What is it, then?”
“Wiping kids’ butts and feeding them beet puree is not my idea of a good time.”
“How old do you think Gigi is?” Jaida says.
“Whatever, all kids are the same. I don’t even teach the tween classes because I don’t wanna waste my precious energy screaming at them to stop being little shits.”
“But this is not a normal kid,” says Jaida. Jan slaps her arm. “You know what I mean! Gigi’s special. Other kids, yeah, you gotta stop them from bouncing off the walls and covering your couch in Nutella, but Gigi’s different. She just wants to paint her pictures and read her stories. Maybe play dress up. You love playing dress up.”
Lemon uncrosses her arms, though her scowl is still present.
“Some conditions: I’m not playing any dumb game were I have to be a unicorn that poops rainbows, or whatever kids do.” She sits up and digs her pointer finger in Jan’s chest. “No games, no dumb songs, no letting her draw on my face. Got it?”
“Got it. And Gigi likes playing by herself. This is more supervision than care, really. At most, you’ll have to make her a sandwich.”
“I can make a sandwich…” Lemon says, her voice small.
“I know you can,” Jan smiles, encouragingly. “So you’ll do it?”
“Ugh, fine! But this is a one time thing, and you owe me.”
“Yes!” Jan engulfs her in a suffocating hug and they fall back onto the couch. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Yay!” says Jaida, and piles on top of them.
Jan jumps up, knocking Jaida off the couch.
“I’m gonna tell Jackie. And pick out an outfit!”
“You get four hours, tops!” Lemon yells after Jan’s retreating back. Then she looks at Jaida, half panicked. “I’m going to survive this, right?”
“Lem, it’s just a few hours. You’ll watch a movie, have a snack and read a book. In and out. You’ll be fine.”
Lemon’s shoulders loosen, and Jaida rubs her back up and down.
The grown ups left less than five minutes ago, and she already regrets everything.
Gigi and Lemon stare at each other from opposite sides of the couch, two mirror images of crossed arms and distrusting stares.
It’s almost like Gigi is appraising her. Lemon does not care for that at all.
“Aren’t you gonna go play, or something?”
Silence.
“Are you hungry?”
Nothing.
“Your mom said we could watch one movie.”
Gigi seems to perk up.
Okay. Maybe they are getting somewhere.
“You wanna do that?”
Gigi nods and climbs off the couch to get the TV remote.
Lemon flicks through the movies available, losing faith in finding anything remotely tolerable and kid friendly.
“Okay, what do you wanna watch? Like, the Paw Patrol Christmas special, or something?”
She does not mean to sound so condescending in front of the kid, it’s just hard to turn it off. But she can try.
“Do you like Peppa Pig?”
“Ew.”
Lemon smirks, surprised. The kid is funny. She keeps flicking through the movies until she sees Gigi jump up in her seat.
“That one.”
“Frozen? You wanna watch that one?”
Gigi nods excitedly, and then remembers her manners.
“Please.”
Lemon clicks play.
“You have good taste.”
The first song starts and Gigi is already engrossed, her eyes wide, her lips quietly forming the lyrics.
The avalanche of questions and commentary that Lemon expected never comes. Gigi watches movies in silence, which suits Lemon just fine. She loves Frozen.
She finds herself dancing a little to Love is an open door, and it gets her the first smile from Gigi since she got there.
After the movie, they move to the kitchen to make peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Lemon lets Gigi handle a butter knife, which makes her feel like a one of the cool grown ups, and they bond over the need to cut the crust of all their sandwiches. Crust is gross.
Jan texts her every now and then, and when the three hour mark arrives, she tells Lemon they will try to be home soon. But Lemon stops her, and tells her to stay as long as they need. Jan asks if she’s sure, Lemon promises to call if there’s an emergency, and that’s that.
Gigi’s books are more fun than expected, and once she gets past the embarrassment, Lemon enjoys making all the silly voices for the characters. She changes some words here and there, but Gigi catches her every time, like she has them memorized. Lemon starts adding ridiculous sentences in the middle of the stories, making Princes fall on their butts from their horses and making the witches curse Princesses to sneeze spiders. Gigi laughs on the floor and eggs her on, and book reading turns into storytelling. They bring out every toy Gigi has to play characters in their game, and they take over the whole house.
For dinner, they order pizza, because Lemon draws the line at cooking. Gigi cleans up all her toys without being asked, which honestly stuns Lemon more than anything else, but she sits one stuffed animal on the table. He’s Flame the Dragon, Gigi explains as she sets a plate and a cup for him, and he joins all their meals. Lemon feels free to bring up the collection of plushies that live on the shelf above her bed, their names and their stories, and even dares to say Gigi can play with them sometime. It’s not a big deal, she’s a chill kid. Lemon will make her wash her hands first, maybe.
Lemon cleans up, Gigi brushes her teeth and gets in her pajamas. It’s early, and Gigi refuses to go to bed because her mom promised she would be home for her bedtime story, so Lemon still has a good hour to kill.
Drawing is the solution. Jan and Jackie find them like that, working on their drawings at the table, surrounded by color pencils and crayons.
“Hi, baby,” says Jackie, kissing the top of Gigi’s head. Gigi doesn’t look up from her picture, but she leans against her mom’s body, happy to have her back.
Jan kisses Lemon’s cheek in passing, then stands next to Gigi, scritching her nape.
“Did you have fun?”
“Mhm,” Gigi nods, still focused on the drawing. “We watched Frozen and made sandwiches with no crust and we made stories. I like Lemon. She doesn’t tell me to use my words, like the teachers in school. She understands.”
Gigi is too focused to see the impact her words have on everyone else. Jackie looks at Lemon with gratitude. Jan, with pride. Lemon, for her part, is dangerously close to getting emotional, and wants the attention off of her.
“Tell them what you’re drawing,” she tells Gigi, who lifts her pencil to show a page almost completely covered in blue.
“It’s the ocean, but inside the mouth of a whale. These are the teeth, this is the tongue, and these are the fish the whale eats,” Gigi says, pointing at the small dots of orange and red. “They’re swimming now, but they’ll be eaten.” She resumes her coloring.
“I made a picture too,” Lemon says, stupidly proud. She shows them a drawing of what is clearly Jan with a mustache and warts all over her face. “Do you like it?”
Jan frowns.
“Jackass.”
“No swearing in front of the kid,” Lemon says mockingly. Gigi nods in agreement.
“It’s almost bedtime,” says Jackie to Gigi. “What do you say you finish that drawing and we go read in bed?”
Gigi nods and starts painting faster. She’s done in two minutes and rushes to her bedroom. Halfway down the hall, she turns back.
Lemon gets an armful of child as Gigi crashes against her side.
“Thank you for playing with me today,” she tells Lemon.
Lemon can only pat Gigi’s head awkwardly.
“Sure. It was fun.”
“Yes. Come back another day.”
With that, she goes back to her room, leaving everyone stunned.
“That’s new,” says Jackie, smiling in spite of the shock.
“Gigi rarely hugs anyone,” Jan explains. “She must like you a lot.”
Lemon recovers quickly.
“Yeah, well, who doesn’t?”
She starts getting ready to leave, and Jackie asks how much she owes her.
“Nothing, don’t be stupid.” Jan scowls disapprovingly from behind Jackie’s back. “I mean, nothing, I had fun. Gigi’s… she’s actually really cool.”
“Yeah. She is.”
Jackie’s proud smile reminds Lemon of her own parents, of the way they talk about their three daughters like they are the best thing on Earth. When she sees that same smile on Jan’s face, all that she can think is that Gigi’s a lucky one.
When Lemon gets home, Jaida’s back on the couch, watching Survivor without her, like a traitor.
“I leave for one day…”
“How was it?” asks Jaida, already rewinding to the beginning of the episode.
“Good,” Lemon says, plopping down on the couch. “Though I feel exhausted, for some reason. We only played and watched a movie.”
“Yeah, kids will do that to you. Have you noticed Jan is less bouncy now?”
“I thought it was just old age.”
“Hey!” Jaida kicks her. “I’m only a year younger.”
“Yes, you’re both decrepit, and I’m young, gorgeous and thriving.”
“You know, with Gigi, you’re no longer the baby of the family.”
“What? No!” Lemon whines. “I never agreed to that.”
Jaida laughs at the pout on her sister’s face. Twenty-one and still a brat.
They watch the intro in silence, drinking the beers that Jaida gets from the fridge.
“Jai…”
“Hm?”
“Do you think Gigi would go with me to Build-A-Bear?”
She Smells Like Honey and Looks Like Lace (Camgeria) - Mar
A/N: This whole series is a collection of “ficlets” which start out short enough for the mayhem challenge, and then they get off the rails. Either way, this is for day 21 of the Mayhem challenge: a bakery setting. Let me know your thoughts on the ship; I’m trying to get their characters. Title from ‘give me flowers’ by Julianna Zachariou.
Tags: rpdr fanfiction, may trope mayhem, angeria paris vanmicheals, lady camden, angeria x camden, bakery au, fluff, lesbian au, mar -@duckprintspress
Summary:
The morning had been thankfully calm. Not many people dared brave the heavy snow, so Angeria was able to stay in the kitchen with all her idea notebooks open, testing the recipes that had been on the backburner for too long. The oven in the back room was a safe haven from the cold, and nothing could take Angeria away from it. Nothing, that is, except her three o’ clock.
Camden entered the bakery wearing a light coat and a smile warmer than the sun, untouched by the weather.
“Afternoon, darling!”
“Hi, Cam. Did you know it’s snowing outside?”
“I’m wearing a hat,” Camden defended herself, then took off the hat and shook her curls, shedding snow on the wooden floor.
“You’re off your gourd.”
Even after opening the shop, Angeria still sought comfort in the act of baking. Sugar, butter, flour and heat had a special brand of magic, and she turned to them in times of stress, or sadness, or just plain boredom. Although lately she had no time to be bored, and baking for pleasure had been put on hold to keep up with the demands of the holiday season. Word of her business had gotten around after she catered for a friend’s wedding, and her used-to-be-little shop was hard at work to match the avalanche of new customers. Angeria was grateful, but also itching for any bit of free time to bake just for fun and create new recipes.
That day, the city found itself in a sudden winter, snow and everything. Angeria had woken up shivering, opened her curtains and saw the ground white. She put on two more layers of clothes and went back to sleep, dreading the day.
The morning had been thankfully calm. Not many people dared to brave the heavy snow, so Angeria was able to stay in the kitchen with all her idea notebooks open, testing the recipes that had been on the backburner for too long. The heating at the front of the store was doing its best, but the big windows that faced the sidewalk and made her shop sunny and beautiful also made it really hard to keep warm. The oven in the back room was a safe haven, and nothing could take Angeria away from it. Nothing, that is, except her three o’ clock.
Angeria got behind the counter just as the door bells chimed.
Camden entered the bakery wearing a light coat and a smile warmer than the sun, untouched by the weather.
“Afternoon, darling!”
“Hi, Cam. Did you know it’s snowing outside?”
Camden took her usual spot on the stool by the counter. Angeria reached over and brushed the white dust from Camden’s shoulders.
“I’m wearing a hat,” Camden defended herself, then took off the hat and shook her curls, shedding snow on the wooden floor.
“You’re off your gourd. I’ve been away from the oven for two seconds and already I can’t feel my fingers.”
“Poor baby,” said Camden in a teasing voice, but still took Angeria’s hands in her own to warm them up.
Angeria hissed and pulled away.
“I got burned earlier,” she quickly explained to dissipate Camden’s fallen expression. “See?”
She showed Camden the side of her hand, where an angry mark ran from the base of her finger to her wrist.
Camden laid her hands palm up on the counter and looked at Angeria, who placed her injured hand on them. With careful movements, Camden examined the mark. Angeria wanted to tease her for trying to roleplay as a doctor, but Camden had that little crease between her eyebrows she sometimes got and it was clear it wasn’t a joke to her.
Camden traced her thumb down Angeria’s palm along the mark, unbearably soft, resting on Angeria’s fingers.
Angeria couldn’t look away.
The moment stretched. Camden looked at Angeria and woke up from her reverie.
“Sorry.”
She took back her hands and laid them crossed, the thumb nail of one hand digging into the skin of the other.
“It’s okay,” Angeria said, breaking the contact between nail and skin and tracing the red half moon to soothe. “I don’t want you to worry. I’m a baker, baker’s get burned all the time.”
“That is not reassuring at all.”
Angeria was sure nothing could be as cute as the little pout Camden did.
“Coffee?” said Angeria, anticipating the answer and getting it started.
“Yes, please.”
Camden was back to her usual peppy self. Whatever that was, it had passed.
“Thanks, love,” said Camden as she got her coffee, blowing on the surface.
Angeria brought her own cup to her lips and burned her tongue to hide the fond smile she got at the pet name, still, even though Camden had dropped it in every conversation since they met, so many months ago in that same spot. It still made Angeria’s heart glow.
“What do you have going back there? It smells like heaven.”
“New recipe!” Angeria explained, excited. “Remember those little chocolate pudding cups with cream on top they sold like, ten years ago? A little transparent cup. Did y’all get those in England?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. Is that what you’re making?”
“But in cake form. Maybe muffins, who knows. I’m making a cold oven cake, so the large air bubbles have time to escape and the final texture is denser, almost fudgy, you know what I mean?”
Camden did not, but she still hung onto every word as Angeria tied the world of baking to the laws of physics with her hand gestures, coffee cup forgotten.
“Hope I get to try it,” Camden smiled.
“It should be about done,” said Angeria, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Come with.”
She led the way to the kitchen. Camden stayed in her seat for a moment, but then she followed Angeria and crossed that unspoken boundary between the space for customers and something different, something more.
Angeria got her oven gloves on, more careful this time.
“Want me to do it?” said Camden, some worry in her voice.
“I’m good,” Angeria smiled at her.
She scrutinized the cake through the oven window and deemed it ready. With a warning nod at Camden to step back, she lifted the heavy mold and set it on the stove.
“We gotta give it time to settle,” said Angeria as she took off the gloves.
Camden glanced at the kitchen door but made no move to leave. She had her arms crossed, seemingly at a loss of what to do with herself in this room. Angeria scrambled to find a reason to keep her there. Once she had brought Camden into her personal space, she was reluctant to let her go back.
“Want to try something else? It’s cardamom heavy.”
Camden nodded, delighted at the mention of her favorite flavor. It was a recent addition to the teas offered in Angeria’s shop, one she’d had to ransack every last bodega in her neighborhood to find without the addition of ginger, which Camden despised so much. Even then, she’d only found a small bag of it. Thankfully, no one but Camden ever asked for it, so Angeria had kept it off the menu and only served it when Camden entered the shop particularly tired or stressed, or whenever Angeria wanted to see the smile Camden got when Angeria remembered something about her. The one she was wearing now, which Angeria had some trouble looking away from.
Stored on the shelves, guarded from air and sun, the batches of cardamom cookies waited to be decorated and boxed up. Angeria put two dozen on a tray and set them down on the counter, as she waved at Camden to grab a chair and sit with her.
“These are new, for the birthday party of a little kid with weird tastes.”
“Now, then, don’t go judging us odd ones. We’re the spice of life,” said Camden, smiling widely at her own joke.
“Oh my God,” Angeria whispered, her eyes closed in annoyance but unable to tamper down her smile.
Camden grabbed one of the cookies and broke it in half, then took a delicate bite, living up to the nickname of Ladythat Angie had given her. All the good natured teasing only made Camden laugh and amp up her prim-and-proper ways.
“Oh, so good,” said Camden, eating the rest of the cookie in one bite. She grabbed another, then paused and looked at Angeria.
“Go ahead,” Angeria said. “I made enough; the ones for the party are in those tins over there. Leave room for the cake, though! I need your opinion,” said Angeria, standing up.
“Angie, you know that I don’t know a single thing about baking. My understanding is that your food is good, and that’s it.”
“And that’s all I need to hear,” Angeria said as she covered the cake mold with a plate. “Pray this goes well. One, two, three!”
The cake unmolded perfectly onto the plate, as expected. Camden still humored Angeria and applauded.
“Ta-dah!”
Angeria set the cake on the counter and grabbed a knife.
“Moment of truth.”
She cut a slice, and the cross section showed a perfectly uniform crumb of small air bubbles.
“Looking good, looking good. Now… here.”
Angeria handed a fork to Camden and they took a bite at the same time. Camden immediately brightened up and went back for seconds, but Angeria chewed it over, taking her time. A moment later, she gave her verdict.
“It’s good.”
“Just good? Are you crazy?” said Camden, licking her lips. “You made baked fudge. That is not short of a miracle.”
Angeria smiled, clearly pleased with herself.
“Fine, alright, I’m incredible. You want whipped cream?”
“God, yes.”
Angeria got a bowl of whipped cream from the fridge and two knives, and they spread the cream on their slices of cake like butter. Angeria was experimenting with different ratios, but Camden was just enjoying the treat, and making it harder for Angeria to focus over the pleased little noises she let out. She felt herself getting a little flustered and tried to throw anything at the silence.
“So, um,” she started, without much of a plan. Camden looked up, expectant. “Do you have somewhere to be right now?”
Camden blinked and put down her fork.
“No, I don’t think so.” She straightened her back and crossed her ankles. “Why?”
“I’m gonna be trying some designs with icing pipes on these cookies, to pick some for the party.” Angeria took a deep breath. “Maybe you’d like to stay for that?”
Stay with me? she thought.
“Really?” Camden said, a smile blooming. “You’ll let me play with your fancy baking supplies?”
“They’re not fancy,” Angeria laughed. “Okay, perhaps the newer set of noozles is. You can use the old one.”
Camden gasped in fake offense and threw a small crumb of cake at Angeria.
“This is why you don’t get the fancy utensils. Childish behavior.”
Camden smiled with her tongue between her teeth, but then her face softened and the smile turned warm.
“I’d love to stay.”
Angeria nodded. It was probably time to get up and start the icing, but Camden’s eyes were darker in the light of the kitchen and hard to look away from.
“Do we start now?”
Angeria jumped up to get everything ready, and maybe to settle down a bit.
“Yes, I’ll make the icing.”
“Alright. How do I help?” said Camden, taking off her coat and rolling up the sleeves of her sweater.
That was something Angeria liked a lot about Camden, and the thing that first made them go from baker and buyer to friends. She was always there with willing hands, always ready to help, never hesitating before grabbing a mop or the broken pieces of porcelain from the latest incident at the bakery. Angeria had tried at first to dissuade her, to get her to sit down and let her handle it. After all, it was her shop. But Camden was so kind in her insistence that it was hard to deny her anything. Almost every day at three o’ clock, the bakery gained a little helper, and Angeria started giving Camden increasingly bigger discounts on food and drinks until she stopped charging her altogether.
“Pick some colors,” said Angeria as she set down the tidy box of food colorings. She put the icing into separate bowls, and once Camden had mixed the colors in, they scooped them into piping bags.
“Angie? I don’t think this one is working,” said Camden, squeezing the bag she held, which refused to pour out any icing.
“You’re being too soft. It’s cute that you’re so dainty, but you gotta be firmer than that. Here,” she said as she circled Camden with her arms and corrected her grip, getting the icing to fall.
Camden had become tense, so Angeria pulled back, thinking maybe she had hurt her.
“Sorry,” said Angeria, going back to her own supplies.
“‘S okay,” Camden said, her eyes fixed on the task.
Camden must really run hot, thought Angeria, because her neck was getting a little flushed.
They tried out different designs, Angeria’s neat and practiced, Camden’s a little shaky but just as pretty. They covered the whole tray of goods in hearts and flowers, and the counter (and their own arms) in droplets of color. Angeria picked the best of the best and stored them with the cookies that would make it to the party, to replicate the designs the day of. The rest went in a to-go box, tied with a neat little ribbon and handed to Camden.
“These are for you.”
“Really? Angie, it’s too much, I can’t accept them,” said Camden, but still took the box.
“Please, do.”
Camden started to protest, but Angeria stopped her.
“Really, Cam, take them. I made them with you in mind.” Angeria felt the words coming, and was unable to stop them. “I do that a lot, actually. I think about you a lot.”
“Oh.”
The kitchen fell silent.
Angeria had been careful, always so careful with Camden. She noticed the looks, the blushes, the hand holding and explained them away everytime. Because if she was wrong, if she took that final step and it turned out it was all in her head, things would be ruined. Camden would leave.
So Angeria waited and held her tongue, and basked in the growing friendship with Camden, and it was enough.
And then she had to go and run her mouth.
“I mean, they’re your favorite flavor, so obviously I was thinking about you,” Angeria tried to correct.
“I see,” Camden said, eyes still squinted and sparkling. “Say, Angie?”
This is it, thought Angeria. This is where she leaves and never comes back.
“Yeah?”
“Once you’re done here, would you like to come to my place and help me finish these?” said Camden, shaking the little box carefully.
“To your place?” Angeria repeated, her voice hopeful and high pitched.
“Yes,” Camden nodded too quickly. “It’s close by, don’t worry.”
Angeria smiled at the deflection. She wasn’t the only one with doubts, it seemed.
“You know that’s not why I asked.”
Camden had pulled the ribbon apart with all her fidgeting.
“I guess it would be a date. If— if you want it to be, that is.”
“I do,” said Angeria.
Now that she knew Camden’s intentions, all her shyness dissolved. She left the shyness to Camden; it looked better on her. She kept her eyes on the ground and had the cutest blush on her cheeks. Angeria took one of her hands, saving the ribbon from further damage, and stepped closer.
“Help me close up?”
“We’re leaving now?” said Camden, surprised.
“Yes. Why? Any dead bodies at your place that you need to get rid of before?”
“It’s a little messy, but that’s fine. I’ve just never seen you close early.”
“I’ve never had a good reason before now.”
Camden’s smile was blinding. Good thing it was almost hidden behind her curls.
They rushed through the usual routine. Angeria did the dishes, wiped the counter, and put everything back in place. Camden swept the whole place and locked up the cabinets, thrilled to be trusted with the keys.
The last things to go were the music and the lights, and with everything quiet and dark, Camden dared to take Angeria’s hand again and lead her outside.
With Camden by her side, Angeria braved the snow. She barely felt the cold.
May Trope Mayhem is a multi-fandom/original creation event open to writers, artists, and content creators of all kinds! We’ve put together a list of 31 of our favorite tropes, one per day through the month of May, and we encourage creators to join us for this month of fun tropey mayhem.
Our goal is to promote motivation and help with habit building, so we’re encouraging people to keep their ficlets under 1,000 words, or if you make art or a gif or some such, to stick to a sketch or a single image.
This event is primarily held on Tumblr, but you’re welcome to participate on anywhere Duck Prints Press has an account (you can see all our current platforms here) and we’ll keep our eyes on our tag everywhere!
How can you participate? It’s easy! There’s just a few simple rules:
to participate, write a ficlet, a poem, create art, make a gif, or create any other content that you want, aligned with the prompt for the day!
post your correctly tagged fills to Tumblr, and we’ll reblog them!
you must tag warnings such as gore, MCD, sexual content, etc., so that people can avoid triggering material!
please also tag fandom and ship, so people can find what interests them!
we ask that you put the tags at the top of your post, so they’re easy to find.
if you write more than 1k words, please use a read more,
if you write something with NSFW content or potentially triggering material, please put the entire story under a read more.
Ping us (@duckprintspress) or tag your creations “#may trope mayhem” and so we can find them! We’ll reblog all fills that follow the above rules and are posted between May 1st and June 8th, 2022.
You don’t have to sign up, just post your fills. You don’t have to be a member of the Press, or following us. You don’t have to be part of a specific fandom. We’re open to all ships, genres, formats, etc.! You don’t have to post fills on the corresponding day, though we ask that if you’re creating for a day that hasn’t happened yet, please wait for that day to post.
This is a low-pressure event, held all in good fun, and we look forward to seeing what you create!
