#cephy writing

see my fave tma ship is jongerry and their only canon interaction is after gerry has already died, as his soul is bound to the catalogue of the trapped dead (i like my soulmate aus set in canon oops)

au: any marks on your soulmate's skin (scars, tattoos) show up on your body, but in a shade close to your skin colour (less obvious, you should be able to decide if you want tattoos on your own)

Jonathan Sims has never thought about the marks on his skin; the scars his soulmate have are hard to make out unless he looks for them. He's always been more focused on his studies, and for a short time, Georgie.

It's not unusual for people to be in relationships before they meet their soulmate, or after. There's nothing to say that the connection has to be romantic.

Jon thinks about soulmates much the same way he does A Guest for Mr. Spider - that is to say, not at all.

Then days after he starts working in the Magnus Institute's research department, he sees eyes covering the joints on his hands. A closer look in a mirror tells him that the eyes are over every joint he has, and over his heart, making him wonder for the first time what the universe was thinking when they made the match.

The eyes are a minor inconvenience; he invests in some cover-up make-up for the ones on his face and takes to wearing gloves more often when the weather turns cold. Painting his nails black distracts from the multiple eyes on his fingers.

When his body gets covered in scars everywhere except the eyes and - he admits he's thankful for it- above his neck a couple of days before Christmas, he shrugs it off as a trick of the eye and strange circumstances. He has a fleeting thought about his soulmate's wellbeing, but he has taken on a lot of work in an attempt to forget about the holidays.

And then he find himself Head Archivist, and he's recording a statement about an incident that happened around when he got his scars, about a burn victim whose burns matches his.

He has a description and a name for his soulmate.

He could find them - him - if he wanted, but being Head Archivist and going through statements takes priority.

Gerard Keay continues to show up in statements, and Jon finds himself starting to grow fond of him. With everything else happening around him, it's good to know that his soulmate is aware of the same version of the world.

That he's not repeating what happened with Georgie.

And then he's travelling around the world trying to follow Gertrude's footsteps, and with hers, Gerards.

And then he finds reports that Gerard died from complications with brain cancer in 2014.

Jon has been looking for a dead man. He doesn't have time to mourn.

And then he's kidnapped by two hunters.

And then they hand him a book and direct him to a page, where he slowly reads the account of Gerard's death.

And then he's face to face with a ghost.

Remus is not intentionally trying to mimic a natural disaster wherever he goes. His balance is off, he's easily distracted by sounds and sudden visual input, he's not aware of where his hands is in relation to everything else as he gestures while talking. It's a mix of things, but the result is the same as if a natural disaster swept through their shared living space. Things break, often.

You know that it's not intentional, and Remus is more than apologetic every time it happens, but it gets tiring to constantly have to replace things. It gets tiring to always have a 0 on the "X days since something broke" sign that Remus had gotten from someone or somewhere. It gets tiring to clean up broken things and to hide things away in your room.

So you decide to try something. Positive reinforcement. A sticker chart.

You come home from replacing the latest broken thing with additional sheets of felt stickers. Something with a texture that Remus will want to touch. You've already printed out a basic chart that you made in excel - if this works, Remus will probably want to make his own chart for future use so you didn't spend too much time on it.

The chart is put up on the fridge with the octopus and snake magnets you bought together when visiting the zoo, making it a bit nicer to look at. You've put one on the stickers on it too, to give Remus more incentive.

He's excited at the prospect of gaining stickers when you first show him the chart, but the excitement dies down when faced with having to go a whole day without breaking something to earn one. You understand, it must seem near impossible after he has gone his whole life unintentionally breaking things. But you softly reassure him that you believe in him, and that he can get a sticker if he manages to fix whatever he breaks too.

There's only one sticker after the first week, but the next sees three, and the week after that sees five. It's not long before a full month is covered in colourful felt stickers.

can't believe that after 26 years of only hearing about the musical, this is my introduction to cats

There is a pair of borrowers living in the walls of a very nice two-story house - the kind where there are people hired to take care of the cooking and the cleaning and the children. There is a pair of borrowers that like to play acrobats in the kitchen as they make away with the newly cooked dinner. There is a pair of borrowers that will be the reason that you get fired if you don't catch them soon.

You've only worked for the family for a week, their newest hire for a cook. You got told by the old one that it doesn't matter how good your cooking is or how much evidence you present, the parents refuse to believe that anything is living in their walls and they would eat anything homecooked as long as it's served on time. You've seen them send the children to bed without dinner on your second day, when the borrowers got to the food before you could serve it.

You consider just ordering them a pizza and calling it a day instead of going through with the plan to catch the borrowers, except the mother likes to check in on you to make sure that you're doing your job. They have something against ordering food that you'll never understand - it's not that different from bringing leftovers home from a restaurant, and the containers in the fridge gives away that they see no problems doing that.

Your paycheck really isn't worth this, but you need to last at least a month or no one else will hire you. Not even with the rumour this family has for firing their cooks. It would have been fine if you didn't already have a black mark on your CV.

Long story short, you fought back against sexual harassment and got fired. It's fine. You're just stuck with this family for another three weeks, and have to either keep a close eye on the food at all times or catch the thieves. Considering you need breaks, the second option is the only real choice.

Which is why you've been sitting on the floor behind the kitchen island for the last half hour, waiting for the borrowers to take the bait. The roast beef with potatoes and carrots on the island have been cooked to perfection, if you may say so. They would also have been your lunch normally - you like using the family's ingredients for your lunch with the excuse that you're trying out recipes for dinner. So far, no one has called your bluff. And you really only make enough food for one person. Not that you think they have any idea what their kitchen is stocked with. Most of the grocery shopping is taken care of by the children's caretaker since it's on the way to and from school.

The mother doesn't even work.

You would curse capitalism and rich people but you don't have an audience, and the rant is not as effective in your thoughts. Plus, well, you need this job and the risk of getting overheard is not worth it. Maybe this weekend, when you can meet up with a friend and fuel the rant with a few drinks.

A strange rattling noise brings you out of your thoughts, and you turn your head back to look towards the kitchen island only to notice a small shape looking back at you. Your head hits the side of the island and a curse escape you at the unexpected pain.

The borrower jumps down on your lap - using your head as a middle step - and reach up with their small hands - paws? - to turn your face to the side, as if checking for injuries. You're too confused to protest.

A second borrower uses a rope - yarn? sewing thread? - to reach the floor, probably wondering what the first one is doing.

"Rem, we're not supposed to be seen," the second one reminds the first, much like any long-suffering older sibling might remind a younger one about a simple rule.

"Too late!" the first- Rem sing-songs. You didn't expect them to speak a human language.

"Um," is all you can say. Rem is still turning your face in different directions, even though the wound is on the back of your head.

"I'm sorry," the second one says. "Remus can be very impulsive. I'm Roman."

"Janus," you get out, because your mother at least raised you to be polite. Not nice or quiet, but polite certainly. It has helped you a lot.

"Nice to meet you, Janjan!" Remus pipes up. The a isn't even pronounced like that. Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought, and the borrowers have in reality gone back into the walls with your lunch?

"We would love to stay," Roman continues, ignoring his brother. "But we should get the food before someone takes it from us."

"You do know that the food isn't actually for you?" You can't help but ask. Interacting with the borrower brothers for less than a minute already has you questioning their common sense.

"It's not?" The borrowers exchange glances, and Remus finally lets go of your face.

"It's not," you confirm.

This is going to be a long lunch break. Maybe you will order the family pizza for dinner just this once, and fake a concussion if questioned. But before then, you have two borrowers that have both made themselves comfortable on your lap - when did Roman climb up? - to educate about human affairs.

Self-care is self-love is love. Love is bread is love.

You don't get many evenings to yourself. There is always someone who needs help, needs advice, needs you. And you thrive on being needed, but at some point enough has to be enough.

So you're taking this evening off.

So you're baking bread.

So you're standing in the kitchen, a glass of red your only company.

So you're alone.

The dough is rising, waiting to be shaped into a loaf. You know that watching it won't make it rise faster, know that bread takes time, love takes time. You know that you could be - should be - taking this time for yourself. A bath, a face mask, anything.

And instead, you're standing in the kitchen, staring. Frustrated.

You don't realise that you're crying at first. When you do, you can't stop.

You're always the one that's needed, you're never the one that need. But bread isn't company. Sometimes, bread is just bread.

You know that your phone is on the table, but it feels so far away. Who would you even call? They always need you, but do they want you? Do they like you?

A sudden ringing echoes through the kitchen. You first think it's your alarm for how long the dough needs to be rise, but it isn't the right sound. It takes a second ring for you to realise that it's the door.

Of course. Even when you tell them that you're unavailable, they still need you.

Resigned, you stubbornly wipe away your tears as you walk the short distance from the kitchen to the front door. You stop to glance into the hall mirror, and whoever looks back at you has red eyes, messy hair and flour on their clothes. It can't be you, but who else would it be?

You open the door before it can ring a third time. If they see you like this, maybe they will leave.

You don't expect to be immediately drawn into an embrace, two pair of arms surrounding you.

"You're an idiot," Virgil gently chides you. "This isn't a one-way relationship."

"We'll always be here if you need us, babe," Remy agrees.

You shouldn't be surprised when tears once more fall down your cheeks. You burrow your head against Remy's shoulder as Virgil rubs comforting circles into your back.

You don't know how long the three of you stay in the entrance, giving and receiving comfort. Long enough for your alarm to go off.

You reluctantly find your way out of your friends' embrace.

"I'm making bread," you offer. "Come in if you want some."

Maybe you can't admit that you need them yet, but sometimes bread is a metaphor for love.

So you're taking this evening off.

So you're baking bread.