#Anie´s Patisserie

[gastronominho]

Anie's Patisserie abre as portas em Moema

A casa especializada em doces finos, serve também salgados, cafés gourmets, milk shakes, quiches e sanduíches artesanais

A casa especializada em doces finos, serve também salgados, cafés gourmets, milk shakes, quiches e sanduíches artesanais O nome Anie´s carrega toda esta história. É a junção de “anie” de parte de Stephanie e o “s”, de Suilan, e significa a união de filha e mãe em um elo ainda mais forte de amor à gastronomia requintada e de qualidade. Inspirada nas pâtisseries francesas, a intenção é realizar…

[noircheols]

🪓୨୧ — THE MONSTER AND ME . . . ♡

synopsis. scenarios of seventeen and their monster!s/o

genre. fluff, established relationship, horror (ish) prns. they/them cw. NOT PROOF-READ, gore (duh), death, being murdered (decapitation, fire), the ring movie reference, I PERCHANCE HAVE APPROPRIATED WITCHCRAFT IM SO SORRY TO ANY WHO PRACTICE, pet names (sweetheart), toxic relationships, cheating, allusions to suicide, GROSS!!!! in a sappy way

an. happy (belated) halloween!! I COULDNT COMPLETE THIS SMH CUS I HAD MEETINGS FOR A WHOLE WEEK

THE VAMPIRE. ⸺ seungcheol, mingyu, seokmin, seungkwan, chan

he thinks it's cute; your love of fashion. how every outfit you manage to coordinate is always so emblematic of your personality and the long life you have led.

"where's this one from?" he asks, gingerly twiddling the cool metal of the necklace dripping just below your chest. he could pretend all he wanted, but 400 years of living didn't fail you when it came to hearing the surge of blood pumping through his heart. and it certainly didn't help that he was slightly blushing. it makes you happy to know that even after three years of living together, you still had that impact on him.

"this one's from 1894!" you moved closer to him, wanting to feel his warm skin against your cold flesh. "long story short this random guy who stole from the nearby village came to my cabin to hide but i kinda-sorta-maybe decapitated him!!"

"that's nice sweetheart WAIT WHAT"

he also thinks it's cute how desperate you are for cuddles. he is more than aware that you love the sound of blood flowing and how much you love being pressed into him, because it meant you could hear it up close. he knows it has nothing to do with you viewing him as your next meal, but the reassurance that he was still alive. he was not gone yet, like all the others in your life. he knows you would never dare to go as far as graze your teeth against his skin. although... he wishes you would. what? he goes crazy for your teeth poking out every single time you smile. why else do you think he puts so much effort into being funny?

the most cute thing about you though? when you pout over pictures. what's the point of mirrors and phones if you can't see if you look good or not? if you can't record the most precious moments of your long life? how are you supposed to know if purple is your colour? but he simply laughs when he hears your complaints, kissing you deeply and telling you "you are everything i could ever have wished for."

THE GHOST. ⸺ jun, wonwoo, minghao, vernon

he knew something was wrong with his house the day he moved in. when the wires were still intact, the TV kept switching from his desired great british bake-off to the deluded brain-rotted show that was dance moms. what? can you blame a guy for wanting to see what they had in store for patisserie week? it only got worse from then on. he knew he had reached the boiling point when he had left for groceries, only for the magnets to be arranged ever so crudely.

TV

sorry, but he didn't have the budget to buy more magnets. in this economy too? whatever, maybe mindlessly scrolling through netflix would give him purpose. as he settled himself into his couch once more, he noticed another set of eyes. big, doe-like eyes, but haunting. his imagination, right?

another click, and he noticed an elbow tear through the screen, slightly distorting the actor's face. he wished he had the strength to get up from his seat, but something about you was pinning him there. you were like a predator staking out its prey, the way you focussed on him. but good lord you were hotter than anybody else alive. maybe everybody else unalive too. he knows now that he doesn't regret sitting there. legs began unravelling themselves as you slithered out the TV screen, crawling on all fours. you stood up as you unfurled your hand towards his chest, he braced himself, hands digging deep into the sofa. his eyes still remained trained on you. was it right to think you are attractive?

"chill out, i'm a ghost." you smoothly responded, trying to hide your smirk from the startled man sitting in front of you. "although... you don't seem too scared of me. what are you? are you also a ghost?" you mused, floating just enough to try and touch his hair. it looks so soft, you mused to yourself. when's the last time you played with somebody's hair again? he yelped a little, shutting his eyes for what was about to happen. to your disappointment, your hand went right through his head.

"so you're the one messing around with my TV- putting on all those trashy 2000s reality shows." he huffed, brushing himself off. weird. you put your hand threw his head but he doesn't feel anything.

"guilty as charged." you sighed, spinning around mid-air. you swirled around the man, fascinated by the newest tenant. "can you blame me for being nostalgic?" you explained how you had moved into this house with your then-boyfriend. things began to go sour and you never knew why. all you knew was that every single time he came home angry and slamming the door behind him, you knew it was time to turn on the TV and melt the world around you. soon enough you realized he was cheating on you, and when you confronted him about it, push came to shove. your last memories were the TV engulfed in flames, and you choking on smoke as the door quietly closed itself. "i used my ghost skills of manipulating electric currents for the first time by turning on the news and realizing that the police ruled my death as a suicide."

you have both developed a symbiotic relationship. he would let you watch your TV shows and re-introduce you to the joys of the mortal world, like reading books and making soup. he didn't banish you from your house, but looked after your every need (its shocking how many things ghosts need), and for the first time, loved.

as a ghost, you could touch whatever was important to you when you were alive. the TV, fruit tarts, and the magnets you would hang your to-do lists on. weirdly enough, you could touch your new roommate. "maybe i'm becoming super important to you." he teased. "would that make you feel weird?" you remarked, as you entwined your fingers among his. "no at all." he hummed, enjoying the way you traced the warm skin of his palm. peering up to look at him, you eagerly asked. "am i important to you, then?"

more than you could ever know.

THE WITCH. ⸺ jeonghan, joshua, soonyoung, jihoon

as a witch, the burning of incense and candles were familiar spells, intended to expel bad energy. but right now, you need more than to expel bad energy. you needed a guarantee from the universe that the life you lead now would be like this forever. being a witch was isolating, devoting time to a continuous cycle of researching and perfecting non-stop. like being a phd candidate, only minus the glory of being called "doctor." normally, witches have familiars, or "animal friends" as disney would like to call them that substitute the regular human's need for friends. but you didn't have one of those either. it was why it was such a blessing when he had entered your life by accident. all you remember is him asking for your number and the next thing you know you spent your days lounging in his studio apartment, with the coffee table scattered with copies of old esoteric spells from a bygone time.

as you heard the apartment entrance creak open, you knew your beloved was back. likewise, he knew you were doing well. the smell of cinnamon burning was comforting to him because it meant you were at your best condition and continuously experimenting with new spells. it was your way of saying "i've been thinking about you." that you spent hours concocting the best spells to guarantee your and his eternal happiness. it was an absured thought to him, for you to be slaving away when you already had what you wanted.

"i'm sure you don't need to worry, we're just fine without magic." he remarked, flopped onto the couch. he gazed into the kitchen, noticing you submerging a piece of paper in a bottle of water.

"have you ever thought that magic is what's keeping us together? and you're taking it for granted?"

"touche. but i still think-"

you could argue his spells were just as effective too, and that maybe he was a better witch than you could ever be. the way he brews your coffee just right in the morning, like an effective energy potion singing through you and keeping you awake. maybe that coffee also contains a love spell in it, because it makes you think about him non-stop. after all, the only reasonable explanation for the blooming feeling your chest had to be magic. "when will he come home?" "he's gonna be so excited when he figures out i made his favourite!" all those dumb, sappy, romantic thoughts plagued your mind. it's humiliating, but... maybe love is a force that not even the greatest of witches can control. wait- why did you catch him looking at your spells? did he take a peek at your notes?

@noircheols DO NOT RE-POST/COPY/TRANSLATE

[hyperactivewhore]

hi I love your blog we have very much the same opinions in everything except klamille is my favourite klaus ship and klaurora is second

I have been trying to enjoying klaus fics or any tvdu fics on wattpad but every thing I have read so far doenst show the characters accurately which is very annoying

I was hoping and want to request if you could give me some recommendations on fics on wattpad that are good. (Mainly klaus but any love interest would be good)

could you please give a short summary/review so far of any recommendation you give so I don’t waste time starting one only to not like ir

sorry if I am sounding rude English is not my first language but I can read it fully thank I you very much

Don't worry, you're not sounding rude at all, if anything you actually sound really sweet. I'm glad we share some opinions and I'm really honored you came to me for some suggestions.

I haven't read long fanfictions in a while outside works in ao3, I left Wattpad a few time ago but I'll still try my best, tho I'm not very good at giving summaries. Fair warning these are mainly fanfics I've read in Archive of Our Own, not Wattpad, but I hope it's not a problem. If it annoys you, send me an ask and I'll give you some Wattpad recommendations!

Patisserie (ao3, poly Mikaelson siblings x original female character, no incest) by @wickedlyemma:

Stats: (published: 2020-12-29), (completed: 2023-03-12), (words: 154,943), (chapters: 45/45), (comments: 4,385), (kudos: 8,469), (bookmarks: 1,799), (hits: 279,967)

Tags: Polyamory, Sugar Daddy, Self-Indulgent, Explicit Sexual Content, No Incest, Slow Burn, Not Canon Compliant

Summary:

I think we've all read those kind of tvdu fanfics where the main character is a teenager, usually related to the Gilbert or the Forbes, still in high school and who suddenly stops trying to make a life for herself just because she gets dragged into the supernatural world. Well, Patisserie is the opposite of that. For once, the main character isn't a teen but an adult around her twenties, who works at a bakery and is completely unaware of the supernatural world until Klaus decides to change that.

The slow burn is is truly worthy of a chef's kiss, the way the author describes and writes the Mikaelson is just so on point it hurts. Their family dynamic is so entertaining to watch, but it's as fucked up as it is in the show, which it's something not many authors can accomplish. The way they behave around the main character, a simple human, it's so amusing because they truly know nothing despite their age and she's just so easy to relate to, because for once the oc is not ridiculously overpowered.

The way we perceive the Mikaelson and the vampire world from a human pov is truly interesting, how she copes with all of it and eventually learns to love all of them individually while being aware of the danger is so well done. Kol and her, as well as her relationship with Klaus, are particularly interesting to read, especially considering how they all behaved around her at the beginning and especially because both of them are the most dangerous members of their family. They are all selfish creatures, and I love how it shows the more their relationships with her develop.

Apotheosis (ao3, Klaus x original female character) by atriums;

Stats: (published: 2022-01-01), (completed: 2022-12-13), (words: 158,264), (chapters: 31/31), (comments: 606), (kudos: 1,817), (bookmarks: 491), (hits: 69,472)

Tags: POV Alternating, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sex, Sexual Content, Devoted Reader, Author Rejects Canon and Substitutes It with Their Own, Cannibalistic Werewolf Cults, Nobody Is Good But Also Nobody Is Evil, These Characters are Flawed and Problematic (Probably), This Fic is Not a Bastion for Healthy Characters and Relationships, Reader/OC Especially, Reader/OC can be any ethnicity

Summary;

You know those fanfics who fix (almost) everything problematic in canon? Apotheosis does exactly that. In this story, Klaus isn't a complete irredeemable character for once, but he also isn't half as bad as his canon version, and due to the oc being a werewolf, this fanfic does expand on his werewolf side a little more than The Vampire Diaries or The Originals ever did. His family and him actually have a healthy bond, and Finn gets the recognition he deserves for once.

The story is set in season three of TVD, exactly when Klaus and Stefan are trying to make hybrids for his pack, and in a ironic plot twist, Klaus decides to take you with him when you're still a werewolf after you say you're not worthy to be a hybrid, at least not yet.

Her devotion to him is completely endearing and I absolutely love how Klaus actually cares for his pack, especially because they're all canonical characters who were killed way too quickly. Her relationships with the members of their pack are so well written, and this fanfic it's the perfect mix of humour and seriousness. It has a ongoing sequel, which I just adore. I warn you though, all the characters have several differences from their canon versions.

Twisted Obsession (fanfiction.net, Klaus x original female character) by rocket-queen98;

Stats: Originals, M, English, Romance & Angst, chapters: 16, words: 59k+, favs: 1k+, follows: 1k+, updated: May 6, 2023 published: Aug 13, 2016, [Klaus M., OC] Elijah M., Hope M.

Summary;

Lola is one of the most adorable mc I've read. She is human and around nineteen, if I remember correctly, and just a sweet girl and adorable. She's introduced into the supernatural world thanks to baby Hope, who is just the cutest, due to her needing a mother figure now that Hayley wasn't present in her life thanks to the curse placed on her.

Her relationship with Hope is my favorite part of the whole fanfic. She doesn't suddenly turn into her mother, she doesn't intend to either, but rather becomes her best friend and Klaus and her develop a bond thanks to this. The way father and daughter interact is so heartwarming too, the subtle hints of them being werewolves, and seeing a main character having a good relationship with her father for once is a good turn, especially in tvd fanfics.

It's clear Klaus and Lola have something going on, even if they won't admit out loud, but for some reason the people around them give the impression they don't actually want them to date. There is implications something more fucked up than usual is going on with Klaus and his relationships, and I'm pretty sure him and Cami were a thing in this fic too. Surprisingly, Hayley and Cami aren't turned into absolute bitches, but there is Jackson bashing though.

The Girl in the Forest (fanfiction.net, Klaus x original female character) by noblecrescent;

Stats: Originals, T, English, Mystery & Romance, chapters: 30, words: 311k+, favs: 232, follows: 176, updated: Feb 19, 2017 published: Jan 23, 2016, [Klaus M., OC] [Elijah M., Camille O'Connell]

Summary;

This fanfic is a tetralogy of books set in The Originals, I read those fanfics a while ago so forgive me for any mistake. Maleny is a witch who was cursed, if I remember correctly, and was constantly body-jumping every short time.

In one of her lives, she met Klaus and they fell in love, but she died, if I'm not wrong, and they end up meeting again in New Orleans time later where he has a child on the way and a kingdom to conquer.

I can't remember a lot more without giving you spoilers, but it's worth checking it out!

Now, I'll give no more summaries because I honestly don't remember a lot of the next fanfics, but it's your choice if you want to read them;

A Veil Between Love and Hate (fanfiction.net, Klaus x original female character) by MandalorianHybrid;

Stats: Originals, T, English, chapters: 57, words: 200k+, favs: 609, follows: 359, updated: Sep 15, 2019 published: Jan 30, 2014, [Klaus M., OC]

Summary; Another five books set in The Vampire Diaries, with a story that eventually moves to The Originals.

Allure (wattpad, Klaus x oc x Stefan) by @viavolterra;

Stats: 575k Readings, 20,5k Votes, 34 Chapters

Summary;

I just could not not recommend this fanfic. Mia comes to Mystic Falls to seek revenge after Damon kills her best friend Lexi, but she of course gets dragged by the problems in that little town.

The thing I like the most about Via's story is how there is no cliché: no bashing towards Tyler or Elena, Mia actually befriends them, Bonnie gets the recognition and love she deserves, Klaus doesn't suddenly turn into a different person just because he loves the oc, he continues to be a piece of shit, and how sweet and empathetic she is, not like those reused badass mc who are just rude.

I would recommend some more, but it's kinda hard to find fanfics with a good Klaus depiction. I'm pretty sure I left out a lot of amazing fanfics, though.

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

COOKIE JAR!

when a new bakery opens up in your small town, both its indescribable pastries and michael kaiser, the ridiculously attractive patissier, become the talk of the town. you love chowing down on a little treat yourself, worn out from your responsibilities, although that comes at the cost of bravely fending off a certain lovestruck pastry chef...

gender neutral reader

content warning(s): patissier au

Life was all about balance. This was a lesson you learned very quickly once you entered the working world, the world of functional adults, the world of corporatism and responsibilities. You never had any real qualms with your job: it paid well, your work was never too much, and your coworkers were all pleasant.

But even then, it still meant that every night you clocked out of your office to go home, fatigue clung to your body in the same incessant way the bitter aftertaste of coffee clung to your mouth in the morning.

Life was truly about the silver lining. The details. The finer things in life. It was the reason why you focused so much on treating yourself for even the smallest things. In the great scheme of the universe and the inevitable march of time, the only thing that truly ever mattered was the joy you could wring out from your drab life.

And that was where Patisserie Munchen stepped into your life.

The newly built bakery had become the talk of the town overnight. You avoided the opening days for a while, knowing that the curious customers would overrun the bakery. You settled for your usual coffeeshop and treats, letting the initial huzzah of the shiny new patisserie wear off before you even stepped foot into it. 

But you still heard a lot about it. Your coworker gushed about how utterly delicious the pastries were, made with a skillfully trained hand that the knock offs at Starbucks simply couldn’t compare to! Even on your lunch breaks, you couldn’t help but peep the flyers boasting the pretty German bakery: a foreign delicacy that was unlike anything in your quaint middle-of-nowhere neighborhood.

What you overheard the most was not about the patisserie’s baked goods nor even the exoticness of it (or at the very least, the most exotic a goddamn German bakery could get), but it was about the owner and the man behind it all. 

The patissier himself. 

“Oh, he’s such a beaut!” Your coworker’s mother had bashfully admitted when you dropped by for dinner one day. “All the women in town are gushing about him! He’s so tall and handsome, with the most gorgeous German accent you’ve ever heard. He’s from Germany, you know. It wouldn’t hurt if a young thing like you were to catch his eye. I don’t think he’s that far off in age from you.”

Geh. You bit back a wave of disgust at the memory. That had been months ago, and your feet now instinctually led you in the direction of Patisserie Munchen the very instant you were done with your work for the day. The night sky hung heavy above you, and when you approached the small building, it was empty and illuminated like a lonely lighthouse in the distance.

And like you did every night, you braced yourself as you opened the door.

“Daaaaaaaaaarling!” A familiar voice broke your peace the moment you stepped into the patisserie. Red hot annoyance shot through your body. If only you weren’t so hooked on the delicious bread here, you would have abandoned this patisserie a long time ago.

“Don’t call me that,” you brusquely grunted. “People are going to think we’re dating.”

“Well, if that’s an issue, we can always start dating. That way it won’t bother you anymore, ja?”

You picked up a tray and a pair of tongs, deadpanning at the beautiful man. The only thing on your mind right now was stuffing some pastries in your face and filling up your very empty stomach before going home to unwind after a long work day. “Maybe in another life, Kaiser.”

Most of the bread boxes were empty at this point, which was customary practice. For a patisserie this high in demand, it was only natural that everything were to sell out before the end of the day. The only things that were left behind were some few straggling pieces of bread and the example cakes stacked high in the display shelves.

Which, also notably, besides a handful of birthday cakes and whatnot, were all stuffed to the brim with exquisitely decorated wedding cakes.

(You asked Ness, Kaiser’s assistant, about the cakes once. 

“You guys sure make a lot of wedding cakes,” you laughed weakly, eyeing the three-tiered cake in the display window. As much as you hated to admit it, it was beautiful. Captivating to the eye and alluring to the imagination, it was evident that a skilled hand had poured a lot of time and love into hand-frosting every laborious detail on the cake. “Is there a lot of weddings happening or something?”

Ness paused, and he thought for a second. “Not particularly. This place is a small town, so if there was a wedding taking place, I’m sure you would know.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Huh. Then is this just for show?”

“In a way.” Ness boasted endlessly about the rigorous schooling Kaiser had gone through. He had graduated as a prodigy from one of the most prestigious baking schools in Germany, and finessed work like this was his specialty. Ness droned on and on about how Kaiser was nothing like those amateur pastry chefs who could only churn out average cakes and that his boss was truly like an emperor in the kitchen, commanding ingredients to become his subjects and crafting them into the stronghold that he envisioned.

You stood there listening to him go on and on, not necessarily having the heart to cut him off. “T-That’s fantastic, Ness!”

“As for the wedding cakes…,” the young man had hummed. He grinned at you sweetly. “Consider it a kind of subliminal messaging of sorts?”

And that was when you knew you needed Kaiser dead expeditiously.)

“Here, darling.” Kaiser gestured for you to come closer to the counter. You eyed him suspiciously until he reached down and brought forth an already prepared tray, stuffed to the heavens with all sorts of different breads and pastries. 

Some were filled with jam and cream, others decorated with generous helpings of cheese and veggies… Just looking at them made your mouth water. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, and Kaiser grinned proudly when he noticed you making a beeline for them.

“I set some aside just for my favorite patron,” he sang, watching you pick out the ones you wanted. “I wasn’t sure which ones you’d want, so I saved a little bit of everything for you. Aren’t I so sweet and kind and perfect husband material?”

You stopped for a moment to glare at him. 

You hated how right the gossip was. You couldn’t deny the fact that Kaiser had a horrible personality: conceited, arrogant, downright rude at times. But he was gorgeous, breathtaking just like his handmade cakes. With hair the same color as silken-spun gold and eyes as blue and refreshing as a sunny day sky, Kaiser was truly like a breath of fresh air in the drab monotone of the corporate life that had a chokehold on you. Even the way he was dressed, with a small apron tied around his waist and a white shirt slightly unbuttoned at the top of his chest, was nothing like the colorless business casual that dragged on your eyes daily.

You refused to give into his antics. “How much do I owe you for the bread?”

He winked seductively. “I could give it to you for free in exchange for a kiss.”

This bastard…! You gritted your teeth as heat unconsciously flooded your face, and you pouted as you did your best to keep your cool. You dug around in your pocket to bring out your wallet, and you wiggled in exaggeratedly in his face.

“I’m paying with this. With money,” you stressed. Kaiser shrugged, refusing to let go of the playfulness in his expression. He rang you up, lovingly placing all the bread inside a pretty little bag, complete with a blue ribbon and a small blue rose sticker that complemented the tattoo tracing up his arm and neck.

“For someone who claims to hate me so much, you still visit me everyday,” he added on, handing the bag to you. Your stomach turned at the sickly sweet tinge in his voice, and he leaned over the counter again, posing himself perfectly so that you could catch a generous glimpse of his toned chest and muscled arms. He had bragged to you once about how it was all natural muscle made from years and years of kneading dough. “It almost makes you look like you’re in love with me.”

You almost dropped the bag.

What audacity! What depravity! What indolence!

“Of all the things, you could accuse me for,” you took a deep breath and shook your head, “Falling in love with you is definitely not one of them. As if anyone could fall for someone as annoying as you!”

He shrugged cheekily, his golden hair tumbling over his shoulders. “I don’t know. I’d say I’m pretty popular around these bits. You’ve seen my admirers. I’d say you’re a pretty lucky one, to have a man as in-demand as me chasing after you. C’mon, darling…”

He batted his eyes up at you. Again, your body crawled with a sick mixture of both disgust and desire at the sight. You hated him, and you hated how attractive he was. You hated his stupidly lowered sexy eyes, and you hated the apple-like flush of his milky skin. You hated the cherry-pink color of his lips, and you hated the way his body made your heart jump up to your throat whenever he moved the slightest bit.

No. No—you had to keep your calm! You couldn’t give in, couldn’t let him win so easily. You were a rational person, and it was this level-headedness of yours that had gotten you this far in your adult life. 

“If your bread wasn’t so goddamn delicious,” you muttered, swallowing thickly, “I would have found another bakery to go to. I’ll admit that you’re this skilled. More than anywhere else by a long shot. But don’t delude yourself! If it weren’t for your bread, I would never come here!”

Kaiser hummed at your declaration, and he pinched a lock of his hair in between his fingers, absentmindedly twirling it around his knuckles. You watched with your heart bundling up into a quivering stack of nerves as a coy smile bloomed across his lips, and he laughed at you with a voice so sweet that you could only describe it as angelic.

“Well, darling, if it’s my bread you like so much…,” he chuckled, shaking his head at you as if he was chastising a young child rather than making coherent conversation with a fully grown adult customer. “We really should get married!”

“HUH????????”

“It’s not that difficult to follow, don’t you think?” He gleefully explained. “If we get married, I’ll bake bread for you every day! I’ll feed you a delicious breakfast and package up a pretty lunch for you to take to your cute day job, and when you come home, I’ll welcome you in my arms with a feast fit for a beautiful monarch! That way you get to eat my bread to your heart’s content, and I can quit coveting you and take you up as my beloved darling that I’ll dote over for the rest of my life!”

You gawked at him. “You’re- You’re insane…!”

“All great things come from a bout of madness, sweet love,” he giggled. “Mull it over while you go home, okay? You’re going to come back to buy more bread tomorrow, aren’t you? Oh, don’t make that face—I know you will. I’ll ask you every day until you say yes! And then we can be the happiest couple ever!”

You turned on your heel, unable to stop your heart from pounding wildly against your chest or your face from flushing and heating up uncontrollably at Kaiser’s shameless courtship. “G-Goodnight, Kaiser…! I’m going home!”

He wiggled his fingers at you in a mocking goodbye, smiling all-too-knowingly to himself. “Goodnight, my future love! I’ll bake lots more delicious bread for you tomorrow as well~”

x

[genderfluid-insomniac]

LYNEY/NEUVILLETTE WITH A CRIMINAL S/O

Be it either reader's past or present, them with a criminal s/o would be intriguing especially with the new archon quest !! (Its my first time putting in a request I hope its good enough or something 😭😭😭😭

hi!! I love this request and you're alright. I hope you enjoy and thanks for requesting!

LYNEY/NEUVILLETTE WITH A CRIMINAL S/O

Lyney

He’s going to be a bit mischievous and make a small comment about if he can join your next heist since he could be a big help with being a famous talented magician. Regardless of whether your criminal state is past or present, he is a part of the fatui so he understands part of it and loves you nevertheless.

If you want help to change then he’ll help however he can and cover up your unlawful past. Lyney is going to make sure you steer clear of the court for a bit until it seems right to reintroduce you into the city.

If you are a criminal, with the new evidence that the prophecy is indeed inevitable, your boyfriend is going to insist that he look over your illegal plan for any possibility you could be exposed to primordial sea water and clings to you until you absolutely need to leave. Since both of you are Fontainians he like Father will take any measures to keep you safe and includes helping in the shadows if you need it.

A fun pastime is pointing out loopholes in the laws of Fontaine and imagining scenarios that people could execute to get away scot-free thanks to the loopholes. Of course, neither of you would actually do this… in front of Lynette that is because she would either scold both of you for it or insist on being included since you excluded her from your previous endeavors, mocking criminals or actual crimes.

You both met when Lyney was performing in the streets as he was walking home and out of the corner of his eye saw you expertly slipping in through a window into a patisserie. Intrigued, he ended the show without giving any suspicions and crept over to the window, leaning next to the window and smirking at you as you came out. “Wow, it seems I caught a clever voleur.”

Neuvillette

He offers up a deal that he’ll allow you to stay in his office and sit in his lap in return for you providing a thief’s point of view when he’s reviewing cases, mainly to figure out what their next move would be or how they’d plead. The iudex chuckled softly as you eagerly agreed and sat facing him with your head resting on his shoulder helping him with his work at a much faster pace than normal.

Surprise surprise. He’s not pleased if you’re a criminal and you both probably met when he was investigating a case you were involved in. You did intrigue him but were quickly pushed to the back of his mind because he needed to do his job.

It’s a very enemies-to-lovers scenario, you find it amusing at your lover's frustration since you are so knowledgeable about the laws that you can either get away with it or have the lightest sentence possible. Neuvillette does love you very much and has tried many many times to convince you to stop committing crimes since he doesn’t want you to end up in the Fortress of Meropede.

Whether you’re a reformed criminal or still a criminal he’s going to be slightly frightened if anyone found out that his significant other was/is a criminal and does his best to lovingly keep you safe so the secret doesn’t get out. Charlotte is his main problem since she’s so insistent he has thought about getting a restraining order since it is becoming an issue and not just with your relationship.

[double-0h-no]

Lazy Sunday Morning

The last one!!! Can't believe I finished it before midnight. My last prompt fill for the Fest for the prompts "love interest" and @l219tj 's little poem, to whom this entire work is dedicated, inspired by our very first exchange that spawned its own little legacy, at least to me, personally. It felt right to leave off the Fest on a schmoopy note, and I really couldn't finish it without gifting you a work after all you've done for my over the last month. Thank you so much, you've really enriched this event for me, and I hope you enjoy this <3

on ao3

James returns from a mission and brings breakfast.

The sun fell through the window, cut into thin ribbons by the blinds, and illuminated the bed in zebra stripes of light and shadow.

The bedroom door was opened just enough for Koschek to slip in and jump on the bed, gracelessly traipsing over Q's legs, all the way up his body until he found a spot under his chin to settle down again. Q didn't even stir, only breathed a deep sigh and continued his slumber.

He looked peaceful, and so incredibly beautiful, the pale, unblemished skin of his skin on full display, the blanket draped around his hips oh so enticingly, baring the small of his back but covering everything below. 

James contemplated climbing into bed with him. Burying his face in the sheets that smelled only of Q after his long absence, but he'd returned home with a plan in mind. 

"What are you doing all the way over there?" Q's voice was rough with sleep, low and shapeless, so different from the edges and barbs it usually had. Precious.

"What do you have in that bag?" For that he was as blind as a mole without his glasses, that was an impressively astute assessment. If he saw a bit better, he'd be able to tell it were two bags, one from the bakery, one from his favourite patisserie. 

But that was for later.

"James?" Well, he couldn't well just return to the kitchen now, could he?

As quietly as possible, so as not to shatter the fragile, peaceful moment, he stepped around the bed and ran his free hand through Q's hopelessly tousled curls before he bent down and pressed a sweet, innocent kiss to his forehead. As if he hadn't just returned from a mission that was anything but.

"You brought breakfast." He sounded still too sleepy to convey any sort of enthusiasm, but James knew him well enough to spot the deep appreciation in his tone.

"And you can have it in bed, if you like." 

Q scrunched up his nose in a frankly adorable fashion. "No, I don't want crumbs in bed. Unless that was an innuendo, and you're offering yourself, and it just flew right over my head. Then I should at least brush my teeth and probably join you in the shower."

The small furrow had appeared between his brows, the one that only showed when he was lost deep in thought, and James couldn't hold back the smile at the careful consideration of the logistics of sex before breakfast.

"No innuendo. Not saying that I don't want to ravish you, but you're a more enthusiastic participant after your second cup of tea."

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and Q's eyes slid shut again as James gently carded his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp with practised ease.

"I see you have our day off all figured out."

"Not all of it, by far. But let me get that first cup of tea started for you, and then we'll see, yes?"

"You okay?", Q asked suddenly, as if the thought that James was indeed only returning from a mission had only occurred to him now.

"Right as rain, darling. Take your time, I'll be waiting in the kitchen for you."

Q gave a pleased sigh, and shifted on the bed, dislodging Koschek who mrrped and looked up at James in accusation.

"I'll be right with you."

James bent down again for another kiss that elicited another soft, pleasure-drunken sound. He knew this moment stood out for its scarcity, but God, he swore he could live an entire life of this.

"Love you," Q murmured as James straightened his posture and looked down at the ridiculous, perfect creature who actually meant it. 

A lifetime of this. 

"Love you too." 

And he turned to make that first cup of tea. 

[indigomarina]

Troublemaker (Reverse Crush AU)

(I couldn't find any Reverse Crush stuff for this episode online, so I decided to create it)

Scene: Marinette's room

Jagged: (gazing at Marinette's creations, while Penny wipes his shoulder with a paper towel) Hey, look! Man, Marinette's got some serious talent. (spots something else) Hey! (goes over to a poster of himself and mimics his pictured posture) I know this guy. Rock on, Jagged!

Penny: We've got to hurry, Jagged.

Jagged: (glances around) Yeah, yeah. Relax, Penny. (turns to see the many pictures of Chat Noir on the wall) (Alec, Bob, and the camera crew are now in the room.)

Cameraman: He's here! Come on, start shooting. In three, two, one.

Alec: (on the air) And we're back on the air with Jagged Stone filling the shoes of a baker. Let's see how this rockstar cleans off all that flour. (walks over to Jagged and Penny while "waving" the audience to come along) (Penny continues to clean Jagged, who is distracted by the pictures and merchandise of Chat Noir.)

Jagged: Hey, there are more photos and merch of this dude than of me! I think the baker's daughter's got a little crush. (winks) (The camera shot zooms in on the photos of Chat Noir.)

Scene: Adrien's room. Adrien is still watching the broadcast with Plagg. He looks mildly shocked as he sees the memorabilia of Chat Noir in Marinette's room.

Plagg: Looky here. Looks like Chat Noir has a superfan!

Scene: Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie. Marinette is cleaning up.

Jagged: (heard on TV, while the view holds on the pictures of Chat Noir) Aw, teenage love is so sweet! Makes me wanna write a song.

Marinette: (sees the Chat Noir memorbilia on TV and gasps) No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, (runs for the stairs)

Sabine: Marinette? (Marinette bolts up the stairs, exclaiming continuously, while Tikki emerges from her purse)

Marinette: no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!

Tikki: Keep calm, Marinette; it's not a big deal.

Marinette: Of course it is! This is a major disaster! I told everyone in school to watch today's show! Everyone's gonna see all those photos and figure out I'm in love with Chat Noir! (climbs the stairs into her room, and enters)

Scene: Marinette's room. Marinette is sitting on the floor, visibly distressed. Marinette: (anguished) I'll be a laughingstock at school, online, all over town! And worst of all, Chat Noir might be watching right now! He'll know how I feel about him! This is a disaster, a disaster, a disaster, a dis… (buries her face in her hands) Tikki: Just breathe! Everything's gonna be okay! Marinette: (looking up hopefully) It is? Tikki: Well… yeah! Besides, it's too late anyway. The show's live! (Marinette lets this sink in and becomes even more anguished) Marinette: OH NO! What if he's watching right this second? He could be seeing all those photos and merchandise! (falls over dramatically) This is a disaster… a disaster, a disaster, a disaster…! Tikki: (sighing) Oh, Marinette… Marinette: (sitting up suddenly, eyes wide) Wait! What if he figures out I'm Ladybug because of this? All those pictures and merch of him as Chat Noir… (gasps) He might connect the dots! Tikki, what do I do? Tikki: Marinette, calm down. I'm sure Chat Noir isn't even watching the show. And even if he is, having his pictures doesn't mean you're Ladybug. Marinette: (pacing) But what if he is? What if he's seen everything and is on his way here right now to confront me? Or worse, what if he's disappointed and never wants to see me again? Tikki: Marinette, you're overthinking this. Chat Noir cares about you, both as Marinette and Ladybug. He wouldn't be upset about this. Marinette: (slumping against her desk) You're right, Tikki. I just… I never wanted him to find out like this. Not when I'm still figuring out my feelings for him myself.

Scene: Marinette's balcony. Chat Noir has landed in Marinette's canvas deck chair, while Ladybug stands on the railing. Ladybug: (with a slight blush) Right on time, Chat Noir. Chat Noir: (in relaxed repose) Good to see you, Ladybug. Looks like we're gonna break bread today, huh? Ladybug: (trying to hide her excitement) Y-yes, let's focus on the mission. Follow me!

Chat Noir: Oh wow! That's a lot of pictures! Ladybug: (blushes; extends her arm to deflect Chat Noir's gaze) Uh, let's can take the grand tour later, Chat Noir.

(Chat Noir's ears react to the sound Troublemaker makes from below. She hurls four knitting needles upward toward the heroes.) Chat Noir: (alert) Watch out! (blocks the needles by raising Marinette's mattress) (More photos of Chat are revealed underneath. Ladybug quickly pushes the mattress back down before Chat Noir can see them, sending him tumbling to the main floor.) Ladybug: (joining Chat Noir, concerned) Oh no! I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Chat Noir: (rubbing his head) I'm fine, thanks for asking. (Troublemaker throws Marinette's parasol at them. Ladybug flings her yo-yo at Troublemaker, but the villain dematerializes to dodge it. Troublemaker then hurls Marinette's chaise longue at the duo.) Chat Noir: (catching the chaise and tosses it behind him, amidst a flurry of more photos of him) (Chat Noir removes a photo from his face, seeing his own image smiling at him. Ladybug quickly grabs the photo away.) Ladybug: (flustered and annoyed) I said later, Chat Noir! (Troublemaker throws a large trunk at Ladybug from behind, knocking her over. Chat Noir takes a swing at Troublemaker with his staff, but she dematerializes before it hits her. She then phases through the floor to the living room below, jumping back up through the ceiling behind Ladybug. Solidifying, she reaches for Ladybug's earrings.) Chat Noir: (alarmed) Look out! (Chat Noir splits his staff and trips Ladybug, causing her to fall away from Troublemaker's reach, then strikes Troublemaker back. Her pen goes flying across the room.) Ladybug: The akuma's inside the pen! (The three race across the room to retrieve the pen, Troublemaker between the heroes. All lunge at the floor, with Troublemaker grabbing the pen first, followed by Ladybug, then Chat Noir.) Troublemaker: (clicking the pen to dematerialize) Touch me if you dare! (phases through the floor) Chat Noir: What're we gonna do? I can't touch her with a ten-foot pole even if I wanted to! Ladybug: (thinking quickly) Her strength is also her weakness. In order to touch us, she must become touchable herself! (The duo stand up, Chat Noir still grasping Ladybug's hand from the attempt to grab the pen. Ladybug blushes furiously but doesn't pull away.) Chat Noir: (noticing their hands, lets go awkwardly) Oh, uh, sorry about that. Ladybug: (disappointed) It's… it's fine. (The duo runs toward the hatch down to the living room.)

Scene: Marinette's balcony. Ladybug and Cat Noir jump up to stand on the railing, Ladybug spinning her yo-yo. Ladybug: Whew! Well, that was a close call! Looks like you won't find out my true identity today! Chat Noir: (warmly) I already know who you are. Ladybug: (anxiously) Huh?! Chat Noir: (leaning in) You're the best partner a cat could ask for. Ladybug: (blushes and giggles) Silly kitty! Ladybug & Chat Noir: (fist-bumping) Pound it! (Chat Noir launches himself away with his staff)

[helloescapist]

Bento Confessionals | Fat Gum

Word Count: 3960

Setting: early established relationship; Fat Gum x gn!reader; SFW, short

Content Warning(s): brief hint of assault, hint of objectification

Summary: being in a relationship with a pro-hero is something that happens over time, and as work picks up for Fat Gum following the Shie Hassaikai Incident, you reminisce of your time together, determined to do everything you can to support him.

A/N: just me considering a whole bento confessionals series... 🫣

[not my art, credit goes to the artist!]

Sunlight filtered through the room, glanced pass sheer white curtains that smelled of the breeze that dared to drift through the open window. Its warmth danced across the humble balcony into your small one-bedroom apartment. The distant sound of the hustle and bustle of the day, gentle and unassuming. At one time, the hush tones of the market had been quite the adjustment when you had relocated to Esuha City.

The almost serene atmosphere having given rise to a nameless anxiety, and practically convinced you that there must be something lurking within the shadows. The peaceful abode a stark contrast from the hectic life you had lived in Tokyo, you reminisced as you maneuvered your small section of your loft apartment dedicated to the kitchen. The small number of necessities for life alone cleanly put away, and the trace of chocolate ivy dangling from the top shelf; it was a humble kitchen, one your parents had openly scoffed at, but it was your kitchen. The only other tenant the occasional house plant you had impulsively brought along to make the space feel more inviting, less alone. Their presence warmed the lower white counters nestled against a simple fridge, and wood counter tops, as you adjusted the faucet’s water levels. The slightest hint of chocolate ivy from the plant who had made its home at the top of the highest cabinet tickled your nose as you folded over the daikon, cleansing it from any soil or pest that might have snuck aboard its leaves. Their yellow bright amongst the blanched background, reminding you of the day you had first met him.

Boxes piled on boxes, chairs resting on tables to leave the floor beneath exposed, packaging delicately removed to reveal glassware, you had just moved from Tokyo in nothing short of a fit of rage and humiliation. The mere idea of your employer suggesting you relocate from your hard-earned role as the restaurant’s Sous Chef and abandon any claim of climbing the kitchen hierarchy to be… a mascot? Oh, the rage that had coursed through your trembling body, the curse words you had bellowed in the short man’s face as you fumbled to untie your apron, smacking it into his tacky mustache with all the might you could muster. His muttering of utilizing quirks as his excuse to depose of you, for the good of the health of the business. Stating that your quirk and pretty face made for the perfect opportunity to boost morale and draw in consumers. Oh you had seethed from every pore of your being, your face redder than the tomatoes you had tossed in his face when the word slipped past his thin, rat lips. Mascot. MASCOT. Fought to free yourself of the buttons of your double-breasted jacket, willing to expose yourself to the whole staff—the patisserie had certain caught a glimpse, but whatever it took to rid you of the fine cuisine’s establishment embroidered on your breast. Trampling the material in one final attempt to swing at the executive chef, the saucier having blocked your route, having simple to settle for being hoisted out of the restaurant by the chef de cuisine alongside a few of the waiting staff. When the news broke to your family, things had only grown more turbulent (and provided fuel to your fire) as they struggled to comprehend your refusal of “promotion”. Reminiscent of the days preceding your graduation--- the shades of red your father had turned when you retired your hero license in pursuit of a life of merit. Except, this time had been worse, and left a permanent mark on your already tense relationship. You, unwilling to compromise your beliefs, and your family concerned that you had selected to live life on the difficulty setting. So. You said goodbye. Well, not a permanent goodbye, but, you did welcomed the space and freedom to spread your wings. Waved fair well to the crowded metropolis, packed away all of your belongings in whatever you could find, found a listing online, signed what could have easily been questionable loan opportunities (thank goodness for your older brother’s guidance and generosity), and escaped to the Kansai region of Japan.

                The café space was smaller than you had expected, perhaps far too familiar with those provided by the Tokyo experience. With a small eating set up—by obviously you meant a single table with two chairs nestled outside of the loft building, and a few opportunities in doors. The window framing the occupied space in aging stonework. Old dusty lanterns left by the former owner clung to the ceiling, a select few booths with seats that would need replacing, each booth composed of a small intimate screen, and a counter pace with seats close to the kitchens in need of maintenance of their own. The overwhelming amount of work beckoning your attention, and earning a remorseful laugh from your older sibling all the exhaustion of the move running through his mind as he placed the last moving box down on a dusty, wobbly table. “[F/N]? You okay?” His eyes wandering the silhouette of your back as you gazed around the location. “H-hey,” he had muttered before wrapping a warm hand on your shoulder. Only to be met with the look of determination flickering in your eyes before a confident smile crawled across his lips. To you, this building all though in desperate need of care, it represented a world of opportunities. A real chance to thrive, and to earn your own place in this world, from your own hands rather than your face, or quirk. “Just promise me, you won’t open a cat café,” he teased before bidding you farewell, home bound to Tokyo, and likely your parents’ restless inquiries, as you rolled up your sleeves and set to work.

                The demands of the job hand been more than you had initially expected—your fine dining experience had certainly familiarized you with heaving garbage (at the executive chef’s horror, the notion of a beautiful face wasting away in the recycling, but never before had you been on the ground floor, building a business. The long hours of cleaning and preparing for opening day had claimed most of your senses. On the last day of preparation is when you had met him.

                Deep in the final box of your belongings, you had missed the initial ding of the front door opening. So early in the morning, you hadn’t considered yourself at risk of pedestrians wandering in from the sidewalks. He had made his way in, his body tired from the long hours of patrol, and full intending to go home, having pulled an all-nighter, a snack and bed sounded divine, but the distant glow of your business had drawn him in. The cute trees that you had watered beginning to bloom in the weeks of your preparation. The store front hadn’t seen life in some time, and it had been a while since he could see through the windows, something about it the atmosphere seemed comforting and enticed him to push open the front door. “Hello?” He had called out, the giant smile encompassing all of his features, his round shadow drifting into your view. Causing you a shock as you popped up. “Is anyone here?”

                “I- Oh, um, we’re n-not open yet!” you sputtered, your wide eyes meeting his own. An uncomfortable smile spreading across your features, before slapping your mouth over it to conceal it. Too late, you thought, practically drowning in the misery of realization. He had seen you. The way his cheeks burned through his black mask despite the way it cupped his cheeks, drawing back pass his forehead. The hood of his costume bright despite the faint light of the morning hours. A giant F followed by a capital G, and what you assumed was an inverted F printed alongside the other letters, his grin evident and rosy.

                “Oh, no, no,” he reassured, waving his hands at you. The grin growing steadily, and a cheery disposition forming over him, “I’m sorry. I just wanted to welcome you to Esuha City!” His voice was practically booming, optimistic and bright as the morning sun as he bent forward, bending as well as he could with his round body. “Welcome!” Accidentally plopping into the furniture as he did so, the embarrassment evident in the way he rebounded, his hand on the back of his head as he forced out a laugh. As he ran through the introductions, you rushed to right yourself, quickly concealing your features with a black mask. This was your fault, you thought with a sigh. The  rosy complexion and affectionate way he regarded you. You had been so diligent since your arrival to the area, made sure to keep mouth covered despite the inquiries the grannies in the neighborhood had made, and now that you thought about it, they had spoken warmly about the pro-hero that stood before you.  The distinct rumbling breaking his rambling introduction, what you had believed to be the result of your quirk, Allure. His direct exposure to your smile, albeit an awkward one had ensnared him, and it would be a few hours before he recovered, drew your attention. “A-Ah, well,” he laughed, “I’ll have to stop by when your open, thank you for your time ma’am.” Surprisingly deft on his foot as he twirled from you, tripping over a table that he hadn’t seen in his peripheral vision. His forehead popping into the grain of the wood, and leaving a noticeable mark as he turned his head at you. Another awkward chuckle, and big smile. One that formed one behind your mask.

                “Please, sit,” you instructed. It was the least you could do, you had concluded, and despite his reassurance that he was okay, you had pushed menus into his hands, offering a vague request to fold them before setting to work. Your prep for the day to come had made assembling breakfast effortless for you, and when you placed your well thought out apology meal before him, you could see his smile glow with joy. Because of this quirk, you thought sadly, careful to avoid his eye. You were familiar enough with the pro-hero, Fat Gum, not so much as you were with Endeavor or All Might, but his accomplishments were known to cross newsfeeds from time to time, especially now that you were in Esuha City, he was essentially the pride and joy of the community, and you grasped the base concept of calorie intake in relation to his quirk. His eyes glistening at the spread before him. Mentions of it wasn’t necessary, and sorry for the inconvenience, things like that, that you quickly dismissed, “for folding the menus.” His enthusiastic praise over every dish, tearing at your heart. Was it your quirk, or did he actually enjoy the kabocha miso soup? Did he even like the natto��it was kind of an acquired taste. The takuan, picked daikon as yellow as his shirt bit down quickly, followed after a bite of tamagoyaki, as he hummed over the sizzling mackerel. The growing sense of melancholy ebbing at your belly, as you listened to him fill the air with cheerful chatter.

                If only you had known at that time he had in fact, not seen your smile. No, upon entering the Kappa Kitchen, he had only heard your soft hums, a song, one he wasn’t yet familiar with, and when you shyly peeked from behind the counter, he had only seen the filter of morning light reflected in your eyes. Sparkling and dazling in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on, something warm like hot chocolate, or as comforting as nikujaga on a winter day, or perhaps the allure of takoyaki under festival lanterns. The charm of something familiar and charming sending his heart into a small strum.

The giggle of the memory of his stumbling along the small restaurant formed on your tongue, and shaded your cheeks. He had been so sweet, that you had been convinced that initial reaction had been coerced. As you diligently layered protection over a chicken cutlet. Before skillfully wielding your mallet, reminiscing over the weeks that had followed. Upon the opening of the shop, Kappa Kitchen officially in business, you thankfully had your hands full—and no more mask slips either! The flow of costumers was steady some brought on by curiosity, there were those excited to experience home cooking on the go, and goodness knows that the onslaught of students during lunch and after school hours were enough to fit the utilities. It was in fact, none other than your present-day boyfriend who had shared rave reviews for anyone who would listen, mostly because his stomach was next to his heart, but he did in fact care about the financial wellness of everyone under his car. It was during this time; you would often see him pass the shop on patrol. Some days, he would peek into the window, an evident grin despite the fact that he was in fact, very much visible (to the chiding of the grannies in the neighborhood). A few times, he had successfully blended in with the crowd, taking advantage with your familiarity with only his alias. Other times, he would send a hero in training to retrieve a pick-up order. To the obvious dismay of the chittering older women who frequently stopped by, eager to see how your relationship developed, and the poor intern as well, who would sputter through the interaction, and read a joke off a script Fat Gum had provided. In time, he would slowly level up from casual greetings while you were out shopping to picking up orders himself, to indoor dining, to the daring requests for you to sit across from him at the end of the day’s work as your last customer for the day. It was all puzzling to you… your quirk had never extended pass six hours; why he acted as though he were still enamored was beyond you, but it was on one of those rare nights that he had arrived especially late that you saw a new side of the Pro-Hero.

The light had long since evaded the night, the later hour evident by the absence of by the lack of foot traffic outside. The quiet ticking away of the frog shaped clock giving away the time as you fiddled with the hem of your apron. The little frog motifs adorable despite your low mood. Your brows wrinkled as you hesitantly looked at the packed order before you, too embarrassed to admit that you had assumed your frequent costumer would stop by. You weren’t aware of all the specifics, he had only shared that he would be working with the police, but offered nothing more nor did you dare press for specifics. The information was shared over one of his late nights, and you had grown accustomed to his drop ins, and dare you admit… welcomed them. So much so that before you rested a bento packed with cutesy bear shaped onigiri, chicken katsu, a variety of vegetables you had painstakingly sliced into… hearts. Oh god, your hand met your eyes, shielding you from the carefully wrapped meal. Your cheeks burned, was it from the reality of how deep your emotions had delved over the past few weeks, the fact that you had longed to see his smile at the end of the day, or the fact that you were crushed with disappointment. Biting your lip, and releasing a sigh, you pulled yourself from your seat. Peeling your eyes away from the packed food, you had decided that you would leave it until the morning. Maybe some part of you just didn’t want to deal with it because in some way, having to dispose of it meant having to face your own blooming affections, and the fact that tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. Maybe some part of you, wanted to believe that he was just running late, and would collect the box after you had gone to bed. Whatever the motivation for procrastination, you left it there as well as the door unlocked. Numbly turning off the light in the dining room before dragging yourself to the kitchen to clean up from a day’s work.

That night had been the driving point in your relationship, you mused to yourself as you carefully mixed together the flour and cornstarch. Draining the chicken from the marinade as you thoroughly allowed it resist before beginning to drudge it. Yes, that night had been the true starting point although you didn’t like to think about it.

You were careless, and way too trusting. You had left the door open in the hopes that Fat Gum may stop by, never considering someone else would have taken advantage of the opportunity, and if he hadn’t arrived in time, things could have ended far worse than thrown glasses, a torn mask and a bruised cheek. You had seen a new side of him that night too, well actually two of them. You had been introduced to Toyomitsu Taishiro, a well muscular man with quite the temper on him, and no holds barred against your would-be assailant. His late nights with the police having drained his fat deposits, revealing a man who shared a beautiful, gentle smile the same Fat Gum adorned, one hand pressed to your quickly bruising cheek where the man had slapped. Delicately checking you over, whispering reassuring words as the realization of what had happened flooded through you tears that fell, and crushed you into a hug. His eyes falling on the scatter ingredients of a bento littered across the floor. Little heart shaped carrots scattered around, and the conclusion that he didn’t ever want to see your tears again.

                Shortly after, he would treat you to a festival date. Blonde hair that glistened under the festival lanterns, eyes as beautiful as the purest daffodil that wandered the stalls in amazement. The opportunity to indulge in the wide variety of treats, full of wonder and excitement, but what stuck with you was how good it felt for his large hand to be clasped around your own. And how away from prying eyes under the glow of summer fireworks, he had delicately removed your mask. Slowly and tenderly, cautious to be sure he had your consent. The evidence he would withdraw should you show the slightest hint of discomfort. An indescribable heat that burned in his eyes as he slowly slipped the thin fabric pass your nose, exposing your lips to the night air before pressing his forehead against your own. The pounding of your heart as his hand clasped the back of your neck, the tickle of his breathe against your cheek before you daringly tilted your head forward, pressing your lips against his own. The soft hum of content that radiated from him, and how your heart felt as though it had joined with his own.

                Because the truth was, your quirk had no affect on those who loved you.

The distinct sizzle of the oil when the chopstick pressed into the pot before quietly adding the breaded chicken cutlet to the frying pan lead you into the next part of your task. Determination captivating you. It had to taste amazing, it needed to be perfect. Among all of the usual demands Taishiro endured, something had happened in the past few days. Something that had set off a wave of fires so to speak, lit up news stations, captivated newsfeeds, and flooded social media sites, and from what had happened the night before, you suspected had involved your pro-hero, personally.

It was late. Very late, but you had known he wasn’t intending to stop by for his usual order. In fact, he had mentioned work had picked up, and he would be busy over the next few days. You had grown accustomed to the vague exchange of information, such was the duties of a hero, and the burden of loving one was yours to bare. At the time, something about it had sat hollow in your stomach. Bubbled quiet doubts, an odd ebbing feeling that had nagged at you over the past few days since your departure. You were used to his long, odd hours. Familiar with absent periods, and even unsightly marring across him from unfortunate scuffles. Didn’t share a moment of doubt over his need to pack on extra calories, of course he did, but it was something about the way he had left you. Pressing his forehead against your own, his amber eyes gazing into your own. Something about the long pause, and deep breath he had contained when he held you. As though he were doing everything within his power to memorize your shape, the way you fit in his arms, the languid fresh scent of miso that hung to your hair. Craved your touch, and hesitated to leave… that wasn’t him. He had always been optimistic, confident that he would return. Always kissed your forehead before, sensually uttering, “I’ll be home soon,” in your ear. But not this time. Forehead pressed against your own, a soft smile as he gazed into your eyes. Instead of his usual farewell, “I love you.”

                Something wasn’t right, you knew it. Every fiber of your being planted seeds of anxiety, betrayed your sanity, and had you resting against the bed, a pillow wrapped in his sweeter breast against your beast. Tucked under your chin as you traced the floor, telling yourself to trust him. To believe in him. He would come back. He would, but the shatter of silence of the front door opening about broke you. He had come home, but not all in one piece. Taunt muscles, all of his excess adipose storage burned through. Lesions scattered throughout his frame, and even his uniform in shreds, Taishiro looked exhausted. His body heavy, his eyes obviously full of concern and the shadow of things he would rather you never witness evident before collapsing in your arms. He had shared things with you, things you hadn’t expected. Whispered things about Hassaikai, uttered conditions of his interns through broken speech before exhaustion had finally snubbed him out. Collapsed in a heap in your arms, sound asleep from fatigue that robbed him of his awareness, locked in your arms and weight pressed against you as you ran your fingers through his hair.

What had happened, was slowly but surely becoming known, and you suspected he had done his best to shield you from the situation, afraid of worrying you, but much like the circumstances that lead you to moving to the Kansai region, it did the opposite. It fueled you. Determination had flooded you, and consumed you as you carefully placed each ingredient with intention in the bento. Placing bear shaped onigiri snuggly in the corner, followed by a powerful salad packed with every vitamin, and antioxidants you could google, chicken kaarage decorating the side. A slice of lemon, a  sprinkle of katsuobushi, and the addition of fully garnished takoyaki artistically placed in the bento before you closed the container. Laying out a pink flower printed fabric, you paid close attention to centering the lunch box in the center, bringing corners together to knot it securely together. Uttering a protection prayer as you did so, your heart focused on Taishiro. Bidding farewell to the house plants as you locked the door securely behind you, departing on to the street. Destination: Fat Gum Agency. Sure, there were fears, such were the relationship hazards of dating a pro-hero, but more than that was determination and adoration.

                You would do everything to support the man you love.

[rosella-writes]

Hey, happy Friday! I submit "nudging the other one" for Solas/Cassandra :)

Thank you!! For @dadrunkwriting, rated G, featuring a bakery inspired by this fic by @dreadfutures

~~~

The Orlesian sun was hot, but not the sort that left Cassandra feeling as if she were laid upon a fire — it made her feel relaxed and loose-limbed, even within her gambeson. At the Inquisitor’s request, they had left their armour and weapons with the Inquisition agents within the city. Today, Bryn had stated, was a day for them and them alone. 

The Val Royeaux market bustled. Wide skirts jockeyed for room, heels clacked upon the cobblestones, and the feathers upon hats bobbed and waved at eye-level for many in their party. Bryn alone seemed immune to the reach of these ornaments. They were a foot taller than most in the crowd, and moved easily enough by virtue of their size and status. Cassandra and Solas followed close in their wake, taking advantage of the space. Cole, Cassandra supposed, remained nearby but out of sight. 

Among the many battling scents of perfumes, leatherwork, sun-heated fruit, and flowers came a familiar fragrance — Cassandra turned on her heel, searching for it. She reached out without thinking and caught at Solas’s sleeve. 

“Oh,” she gasped. “Do you smell that?”

The apostate looked at her with an incredulous expression. “Yes, Seeker, whatever it is I assure you I am being assailed by it.”

She scoffed. “It is sweet. It reminds me of a treat I have not had in years. Inquisitor?”

Bryn glanced over at them, their eyes calm and placid and their brows raised in a silent question. They cocked their horned head to the side. 

“Do you see a pâtisserie?”

Recognition dawned, and they suddenly cast their gaze over Cassandra and Solas’s heads. They did not need to stand on tiptoes in order to see, but they rose upon them almost out of habit. Their lips parted as they searched — they suddenly pointed and said, in their gentle voice, “Over there, by the modiste.”

Excitement surged within Cassandra at that, along with another waft of the familiar, mouth-watering scent of baked goods. Bryn’s face warmed when they looked back down at her. 

“Go on ahead without me,” they said. “I want to see what’s in this shop at the end. Meet at the center of the square in a half hour?”

Cassandra glanced at Solas, who looked cautiously interested now. Cole’s hat bobbed near his ear as the spirit passed by and drew close to Bryn’s side. 

“The baker is proud of them today,” Cole said simply, his voice nearly swallowed up by the noise of the crowd. “La crème est absolument parfaite en tous points. You should try the cannelé.” 

They listened — Cole remained at Bryn’s side as the latter made their way towards the stalls, while Cassandra and Solas entered the shadowed interior of the bakery. They blinked away the brightness of the sun and basked in the new warmth, that of ovens and fresh pastry and bread rather than hot sun. Waft after waft of that delicious, sweet scent of baked flour and sugar and butter filled Cassandra’s nose and throat, and she found herself swallowing down her desire for such Orlesian treats. 

The patisserie was crowded, enough so that Solas had to turn to keep his broad shoulders from grazing against their fellow customers as they approached the glass cases near the back of the shop. They were surrounded by the rolling sounds of conversations held in Orlesian, with the odd bit of Antivan and Trade mixed in at the fringes — when another customer entered the shop behind them, Cassandra heard a new swell of the Chant sung from the abbey at the center of the city before the door swung back shut. 

A nudge — Solas’s elbow was sharp, but he prodded her gently with it. She would not have felt it if she were still armoured. “What are these?”

She followed his pointed finger with a surprised gaze. “Do you not recognise any of them?”

“They are…” he seemed to search for the word. He raised a finger to his chin and frowned. 

Cassandra gazed up at him with a slight smile, feeling fondness wash through her that was as warm and sweet as the smell of burnt sugar. “Think of them as… frilly cakes, I suppose.”

The attendant behind the case shot her a dirty look, but she paid him no mind. 

“Pick one,” she urged. “My treat.”

Solas glanced down at her — a mere flick of pale eyes beneath long lashes, shadowed by the dim light in this bakery. His mouth curved in a surprised, private smile behind the crook of his finger as he contemplated. 

“Which did Cole say we should try?” he finally asked. 

Cassandra nodded. “Deux cannelés s'il vous plait, mon ser.”

They left the bakery with their paper-wrapped cannelés in hand, as Cassandra wished for Solas to try his out of sight of the Orlesian baker who might be insulted if he enjoyed them in the wrong way. They tucked away against a fountain, taking their seats on the mortared edge, knee to knee. Cassandra eagerly unwrapped hers and took a large, unceremonious bite. 

“Maker,” she groaned happily. She almost snorted custard out of her nose at the sight of Solas regarding his, and hurriedly swallowed. “Try it!”

He looked at her with trusting eyes as he lifted the flute-shaped cake to his mouth — he held his spare hand beneath it to catch crumbs, and looked for all the world like a man out of his element. She tried to remember if she’d seen him enjoy eating anything before. She could hear the caramelised exterior crunch as he bit it. 

Solas’s eyebrows flew up his forehead as he took in that first bite, and his eyes shone. Cassandra laughed outright — not to mock him, but to delight in his reaction. 

“You look as if you have never tasted anything sweet before!” she chuckled. She took another bite, then spoke irreverently around it. “These are my favourite. Cole’s advice was indeed good.”

For once, Solas was too occupied to retort with anything scathing. He finished the cannelé slowly, as if savouring each moment of it. Only then did he clear his throat and look up at her, a multitude of barely-discernible expressions crossing his angled face. 

“Thank you,” he finally said. He wiped his long, pale fingers clean with the paper the cannelés came folded in, and seemed almost mournful that they were gone. “I liked that very much.”

Cassandra chuckled, then rose and extended her hand. “You are welcome. Now come, let us find the Inquisitor.”

Solas smiled sincerely then, and accepted her helping hand to his feet.

[the-daydream-archives]

Get to Know Me: Simblr Edition and Random Tag Games

I got tagged in a bunch of tag games these past few weeks and I'm sorry I only got to do them now D: Thank you to all of you who tagged me^^ I hope you guys don't mind that I decided to hodgepodge all these tag games together^^;

For the first one, I got tagged by @byou-shin :D Thank you for the lovely tag dude^^

Make a picrew of yourself

Do a personality test

For this second one, i got tagged by @van-yangyin^^ Thank u as well for the tag :"D

Last song: Tomofumi Tanizawa, the cover version by Chevy <3

Favorite Color: Funnily enough, it's not pink xD My faves are the Primary colors (Red, Blue, and Yellow) but mainly Yellow^^

Currently Watching: One Piece Live Action Video Essays (This LA got my heart frfr 😭💖)

Last Movie: The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar (Very much in love with Wes Anderson's works💖💖💖)

Currently Reading: Fanfiction (I haven't been reading as much but I'll probably get back to it soon after Simblreen)

Sweet/Spicy/Savoury: Sweet things are typically my kryptonite, second would be spicy foods and then savoury :D

Last Thing I Googled: Dramatis Personae (I was reading another tumblr post and i had no clue what that meant ^^; )

Current Obsession: CC Making, MoistCr1Tikal (Been binging his youtube videos lately^^), manifesting desserts *_*

Currently Working On: Simblreen gifts and editing (it's honestly taking me more than a month to finish everything 😅 )

For this third tag game, I was tagged by both @void-imp and @merofthefae, You guys rock!!!! ヾ(≧ ▽ ≦)ゝ

rules: you can use any sims game to answer these questions!

Your Three Traits: Perfectionist, Geek, Creative

Your Aspiration: Renaissance Sim

In-game World You’d Live in: Henford on Bagley or Willow Creek

Favorite Town(ies): ...the Bjergsens... idk why but they're my favorite go-to family... next would be the Goths...

Most Used Pack(s): Cottage Living most likely

Favorite Decor Object (no cc): Can't decide between these two things...

Something You Want in the Game: To recognize the plant sims as actual occults 😭😭, fairies, clowns/jesters, and a baker/patisserie profession.

What Color is Your Plumbob rn: Yellow Green (I need more socialization and sleep asdfghjkkkkl)

Thank you to those who tagged me once more! :D If anyone wants to do any of this, feel free to say that I tagged you!^^

[justforbooks]

Le Crookie 🥐🍪

It was 3 February when the queues started forming at Boulangerie Louvard in Paris. Even in the sort of downpour that usually empties streets, clued-up teenagers gathered outside the family-run bakery in the 9th arrondissement, desperate to get their hands on one thing: its owner Stéphane Louvard’s invention, le crookie.

It’s a crisp croissant filled with American-style cookie dough, then baked to achieve a soft, gooey centre, and a video of the Frankensteined pastry had gone viral on TikTok.

Arriving a decade after the New York-based French pastry chef Dominique Ansel revealed the recipe for his cronut, the crookie is the latest in a long line of hybrid croissant offerings to cause international fervour. “We were very surprised,” says Louvard, who now sells up to 2,200 crookies per day. “We had to hire two additional people to be able to produce the necessary quantities. It was a little stressful.”

Bakeries across Paris have now started selling them. “My local is doing it, even though it’s not very trendy at all,” says Houssine Bouchama, director of Time Out Paris. Meanwhile, from Singapore to Toronto, copycats are making their own versions. Cookie Crumble, a micro-bakery in London, has been getting orders from across the country. Rhiain Gordon, founder of Babyfaced Baker in Edinburgh tells me it’s “unusual to see any left by 10am”.

To say that cross-bred takes on classic breakfast pastries have captured public imagination is an understatement. In 2013, when Ansel first brought the cronut, with its glazed doughnut outside and flaky pastry inside, to New York, they sold out so quickly that a black market arose on advertising website Craigslist. By the time it landed in the UK in 2016, it was with so much fanfare that Londoners skipped work to try it.

A muffin-croissant hybrid, the cruffin, was next, causing such a stir at Mr. Holmes Bakehouse in San Francisco that in 2015 the recipe was reportedly stolen. Then came the croloaf (croissant dough baked in a bread tin, debuted by M&S in 2016). There have been tacros (pulled pork filled taco-shaped croissants created by San Francisco’s Vive La Tarte) and cretzels (salted pretzels made with croissant dough, by Seattle’s Coyle’s Bakeshop).

Since the global launch of TikTok in 2017, the appetite for these hybrid snacks has accelerated. In 2022, the suprême – a spiral of croissant dough stuffed with the pastry creme-filling of an Italian bomboloni doughnut – became a global sensation. Next came the croffle; croissant dough pressed in a waffle machine, popularised in South Korea by cafe chain Aufglet.

What is it about hybrid croissants that have captured global public imagination for so long? Meg Palmer, a research manager at market research agency Verve, thinks it’s because “there’s something about the merging that makes it more permissible to be indulgent”.

Pastries are also perfect for TikTok, she explains, because they look and sound great. “[In videos of] the crookie you see hands breaking through the croissant. You hear that initial crunch, and you see whether it’s got filling if it oozes out. It’s very sensorial.”

She ties the constant invention of hybrids to small businesses trying to stand out on social media. “They’re always thinking ‘what can be our hook?’ People do latch on to these trends, and they don’t just want a flat white and a croissant any more.”

Bouchama has seen the impact of this in Paris. “There’s an Americanisation of French patisserie going on; the desire to reach an international audience on TikTok,” he says.

Bakery Philippe Conticini in Islington is London’s main purveyor of novelty croissants. The chain launched in London in 2020 with classic French patisserie, but found it hard to survive.

“We’ve found we have to be creative all the time and follow the trends,” says Ludovic Carassi Del Villar, operations manager. The shop soft-launched its £5.90 crookie last week and is already getting calls demanding more.

Back in Paris, TikTokers are already moving on, says Bouchama: “Some bakeries are now experimenting with the pain au chocolat-brownie.”

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[an-aura-about-you]

Long post is long, so I'll make a new one! Thank you @coolalicious for tagging me to do this!

Name(s) - Aura (to the point that if you see Aura in a handle somewhere else then it's probably me)

Pronouns - x/they/she in order of preference.

Star sign - on the Pisces side of the Aquarius/Pisces cusp

# of siblings & fun facts about them (if you have any) - I have one sibling who's younger than me by 1 1/2 years. fun fact: their favorite animal is the platypus!

# of pets & their names - I have one cat, a little black domestic shorthair kitty named Schroedinger.

Fandoms - Princess Tutu, The Magnus Archives, the Chzo Mythos, Homestar Runner, and pretty much anything else I've got on the backburner

Favorite color - puce

Favorite song - this is always one of the hardest questions because does this mean of all time? just right now? the one that I can listen to endlessly on repeat? the one that makes me go 110% feral? I think I'll answer based on vibes, and based on vibes my favorite song is Gymnopedie no. 1 by Erik Satie.

Favorite author (of anything readable-- books, fanfics, zines, webtoons, whatever!) - oh, this is another hard one. it is not at all helped by the fact that I've been going through the audiobook of Lightlark and thoroughly enjoying it for reasons the author never intended, which is the case when you pursue media with a So Bad It's Good mindset. but I might have to give an honorable mention to Alex Aster anyway for the sheer number of times I had to pause her audiobook because I was doubled over laughing at it. but for a more sincere answer, I will pick Mel Brooks, which almost feels like cheating, but his professional memoir All About Me! was such an enjoyable ride and had that same voice and beloved sense of humor he's honed in his movies. Mel Brooks is one of the few celebrities I've written a fan letter to, an actual physical fan letter written by hand, and he is well worth that effort.

Hobbies - cooking, writing, taking walks at the park, playing games with friends

Favorite fic type - you know how some fandoms have a very specific type of fic by the nature of canon? my favorite fic is a type specific to the fandom for The Magnus Archives related to the tropes of Loves My Alter Ego and Two Sided Love Triangle. specifically, I love the premise Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist being a former member of real life band The Mechanisms (that real life Jonathan Sims was a member of) and hapless archival assistant Martin Blackwood being a fan of The Mechanisms, resulting in him being torn between his crush on his prickly boss and his crush on frontman Jonny d'Ville unaware that they are in fact the same person. my ideal version of this would be at a point where the crush is mutual and at first Jon uses his Jonny d'Ville persona to try acting as a wingman for Martin to get him with himself?? but then that kind of evolves into Martin dating Jonny while still being unaware it's Jon somehow. we're talking Rio Pacheco from Jem and the Holograms levels of unaware, which I will forgive Martin for because he's just so starstruck.

Favorite holiday - New Year's! I even made arrangements to take the whole week off so I can properly enjoy it. <3

Do you have any partner(s)? (romantic, qpp, anything!) - nope! I'm happily single and ready for some Pringles!

Fun facts about you / anything extra you wanna share! - so y'all know I love food and I like to cook, and I've mentioned before that I've been to culinary school, but I don't know how many of my current followers know that I actually went to Le Cordon Bleu for their baking and patisserie program and in fact graduated from there with honors. I earned my coveted blue cravat for doing so.

and I tag anyone who wants to do this!

[glimmeringstones]

(@team-frustration-boss-zakuyamo )

Hey Geeta, what's your policy on owning a Slither Wing? Cause what I do sometimes gives me paradox pokemon for some reason, and Tater Tot is (as far as I know) the only SW to hatch from an egg

[Video of a full grown Slither Wing attempting to start a fight with a Snorlax Beanbag Chair. Obviously the chair did not ingage in a fight]

He isn't smart, and when I took him to the vet to get an eggshell that was stuck in his forehead out, the vet says he was missing something that let's him use almost the majority of his moves, so he isn't dangerous whatsoever....minus the fact he won't stop eating paper and my Potted p l a n t s.

Seriously. When he hatched, the first thing he did was eat my birth certificate. Luckily I had a printed Copy-

Well seeing that @/patisserie-soapberry has a slither wing herself, I would say that it is alright for you to have one too. However, upon any other eggs that you suspect are of the Paradox variety, I would like to be alerted of immediately.

They are still paradox pokemon and can deal serious damage.

But that does not mean they are undeserving of the same kind of love and care that we give present time pokemon.

[ivorygotnobars]

Happy Thanksgiving! Hope you guys like 7k of engaged Klance fluff as a series appetizer <3

Chapter 1: Eye of the Storm

Some Time Before: Lance POV

Heavy rain drowned out the chime of the entry bell as Lance thundered into the intimate cafe front of the Patisserie. His sudden arrival sent a brief tremor through the warm ambiance, rattling glass displays into the heart of the cafe. Water dripped from his soaked suit, trailing behind him as he made a beeline toward a small group occupying an amber-lit lounge area.

A long industrial seating counter separated the main shop from the lounge, currently cluttered with piles of books and binders. They were scattered haphazardly, spilling onto nearby coffee tables and velvet gold-trimmed couches.

No one noticed his entrance, already having tuned out the storm into little more than background noise. All, except his gorgeous fiancé ; who sat perched at the counter, stylus hovering over a data pad. His head turned sharply, drawn in by the sudden commotion. Irritated, narrowed eyes blinked into bewilderment at the sight of Lance—every step sputtering like an engine in all his waterlogged glory—Almost unsure of the image he saw before him.

And what an image it must be, Lance thought, acutely aware of the crumpled wreck that was his suit. Like he had yanked it mid-cycle from the wash; hair limp, clinging to his forehead in a damp mess, all to the heroic intro music of leather shoes squelching in a tone-deaf rhythm.

The frantic energy and irritation that brimmed right beneath Lance’s soaked skin dissolved, exchanging his trembling from the cold for anticipation. The forced smile he’d held for what felt like ages eased—melting away the storm he’d carried with him, the frustration, the bone-deep exhaustion. Overjoyed, he’s actually managed to catch one Keith Kogane off guard.

He didn’t wait for Keith to brace himself before letting the full weight of his exhaustion drop unceremoniously over his fiancé ’s shoulders.

Keith jolted with a grunt.

Dampness transferred into his shirt and across his back. Though instinctively, he tilted forward, adjusting to steady the deadweight slumped against him. One hand gripped an arm dangling loosely over his shoulder, while the other braced firmly against the back of Lance’s thigh.

Lance enjoyed the subtle pull of Keith’s muscle at his chest and the firmness of his grip, slacking further into his forbearance. He littered lazy, gratified greetings wherever his lips could reach across Keith’s shoulder and the back of his neck—but mostly met his mob of hair that faintly smelled like burnt tires, carrying the distant memory of the Garrison’s training floor. 

He only slightly cringed when he pulled back, a few stray strands stuck in his mouth. Though couldn’t justify even moving his neck an inch away from the radiant warmth that felt like hovering frost-nibbled fingers over a fire pit.

Despite the scowl and furrowed brows etched in place—sharp as ever—Keith uncharacteristically, didn’t complain or shove him off. Instead, he slowly glanced over his shoulder doing little to hold back the gleam in his eyes that sparked in wonder.

And really, that’s all Lance needed to know how much he had been missed these past few months apart.

“Well, would you look at that,” Lance’s voice strained, holding back a breath he seemed to be still trying to catch. “Made it just in the nick of time.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed, a smirk twitching the corners of his mouth. “Is that what you say two and a half hours late to all your meetings?”

Keith’s fingertips trailed from his wrist, up to pluck at the faint itch at his lips before threading through Lance’s damp hair, playfully shaking it out, scattering droplets in every direction and across the counter.

Lance scrunched his nose. He could only imagine the tangled monstrosity Keith’s tousling left behind. Though any snide remark or concern for his hair slipped right off his tongue as Keith leaned sideways, grinning smugly, his amusement practically dancing in his eyes.

Something familiar brimmed at the edges of Lance’s awareness, teasing him with its inescapable radiance. I love this man, he thought, I just want to marry him already. Not that he’d say it now—not when Keith looked so unbearably pleased with himself at making a mess out of him.

His arms sneaked around Lance’s hips, still bearing the brunt of him, though the warmth that sunk into his hair was gone, replaced by the dowsing cold of his own suit pressing further into the small of his back. A shiver plunged down his spine, just as Keith peeled him away like a piece of sodden paper.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” Keith admitted, his voice gentle with a hint of incredulity, as he eased Lance to the seat beside him.“It sounded like the meeting was going to run longer than expected.”

“Yeah, but I never said I wouldn’t make it,” He declared. His grin a little crooked. Now seated, he had to arch a bit awkwardly with arms still clung around Keith’s shoulders, “Better late than never, babe!”

Lance’s eyes wandered across the room, shifting slightly to ease his posture and to take in the busy hive of workers around them, nose-deep in varying tasks and conversations. With a raised brow, he added, “ Doesn’t seem like there’s much cake testing going on though.”

His gaze caught on their wedding planner–Dawn. Who stiffly stood beside the Garrison’s PR rep, Aoife, and a towering man he assumed was the pâtissier catering their wedding. His tallness exaggerated by the height of his toque and a curled mustache that looked straight out of a lineup of ancient cartoon villains…Truthfully, man made it work though.

The three loomed over a corner booth, pouring through large books and—blueprints?

He took in the clutter around them again and gestured. “What’s with the half-a-library covering this place, anyway?”

“Apparently, we can’t pick the flavor until figuring out the design and how it’s supposed to hold up. Something about density and temperature affecting flavor integrity.” His lips pursed in that uncertain way Lance had come to expect when he couldn’t decide if something was absurd or one of those ‘normal’ things people just accepted without question.

“Who cares! As long as it tastes good, it can look like a goddamn weblum! What are we supposed to hire an architect for the cake too?”

His fiancé chuckled, and the sound tickled Lance’s chin, settling something in place, like a keystone he hadn’t even known had been off-kilter in the first place. “Hope not, we’re already waiting on enough permits as is.”

Lance tilted his head back, yielding to that settled something, the arch in his brow softening. Taking in every detail like a man taking his first bite and realizing he’d been starved. For the first time in weeks—maybe longer, his thoughts slowed, and the familiar taut buzzing under his skin quieted. The world at large snapped into focus, with a wonder that tightened at his throat.

He couldn’t seem to pin it down—the millions of small, impossible-to-name things that made up this …. this …just this …He wanted to bottle it, frame it, keep it, yet the more he tried, the more it seemed to slip through his fingers like a moment turning into a memory.

“Lance?” Keith’s voice broke through his haze, steady and amused.

Lance opened his mouth to respond—only for a sharp tone to shatter his focus, his thoughts slipping from him drawing him instead to the back corner of the room.

“It’s. A. Mess.” Aoife spat each word, voice low and serrated, slicing straight through the ambient warmth of the room. “Not to mention mechanically impossible. We need something more stable. Respectful .”

Her icy stoicism clashed sharply with Dawn’s ferocity, that the air all but crackled between them.

Caught in the crossfire, the patasiere cleared his throat, in an attempt to moderate the escalating tensions. “The concept is certainly, certainly…ambitious.” He remarks in a careful tone. “However, this is merely a rough sketch of course. The logistics can be refined—the latticework may appear fragile, but I assure you with the right sugar—”

“I’d like to hear at least one—ONE design idea from you today, that doesn’t look like it’s meant to entomb something!” Dawn interjected loudly, her small stature, having no problem overpowering the presence of the man twice her size.“I’m telling you, the tower concept is perfect! They add height , grandeur , drama! A perfect way to serve the guests without compromising the presentation! It’s the utmost symbolic representation of the towering heights of love and-”

“This is exactly the problem.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dawn sneered, " I forgot this is a wedding , how inappropriate to have any mere reference of love and hap—!”

“Would you stop yelling !”

“Would you stop interru-”

“At least a dozen cultures in attendance believe tower structures are relics of oppression. Relics of war and violence . Which some of them have just lived through and it would be egregious and offensive to be welcomed to a celebration when the cake is a reminder of their devastating losses.” Aoife went on, sounding as though scolding a child. " And you want to start dismantling them in front of the guests to serve? That’s a dozen more outraged at the blatant omen of fractured unity.”

She lifts a book from the table. “Now this,” she shoves it open inches from Dawn’s face, nearly smacking her with its flying cover. “ It’s classic, elegant, and most importantly dignified .”

Dawn’s eyes flashed with boiled-over frustration, “Well, this wedding is on Earth .” She grabs the center fold of the book and begins to try to rip it from Aoife’s hands though it doesn’t budge. “My clients are both from Earth —we are not catering to every single superstition in the cosmos!”

Typically, Lance would throw in a suggestive comment about their rivaling energy, maybe teasing their own up-incoming marriage after all of this. But after a rather l o n g, grueling couple of months enduring intergalactic tensions over treaty terms—capped off by the draining flight he’d just taken halfway across the known universe—he wasn’t in the mood for it.

Though Lance couldn’t hold back his disbelief at the scene, as the two women started fighting over the book. Neither holding back their strength.

Considering their build difference and Aoife’s military background, he was impressed with Dawn’s resistance.

Somehow the assistants, don’t bat an eye at the altercation, tuning it out like the storm outside.

“There are plenty Earthian cultures with similar views!”

“EARTHIAN IS NOT A WORD!”

Aoife flinched back from the echoed scream in her face, however, gave no other indication of letting go of the book.

Lance pressed his forehead to Keith’s shoulder, rubbing at the aching pressure building behind his eyes.

“You can’t tell me this isn’t giving you a headache?” He knows how sensitive Keith’s hearing is— if he was feeling the pinch in his skull, Keith’s head had to be rattling by now! He didn’t look it, though, and just shrugged, bobbing Lance’s head with the gesture. “Think at this point I’m used to it.”

“Should we stop them?”

“Already tried,” Keith replied wearily. “It’s easier to just wait and let them tire themselves out.”

“ Two hours —and they’re not worn out yet?” On a side note, Lance quirked his brow up at his fiancée “And since when have you started trying to apply to sainthood? I’ve seen you get impatient with a toaster. ”

“Gives me time to work on my report.” He gestures to his data pad.

Lance gave it a distasteful look. One thing he certainly didn’t miss from working directly with the Garrison was the never-ending paperwork. So much as you thought of giving a command or not giving one, it needed to be locked-in to a paper trail, or else you get the ‘so-tell-me-about-your-train-of-thought-here’ meeting.

Straightening in his seat, Lance turned his attention back to the tug of war. “Well, I’m here for some damn cake.” He rolled his shoulders, getting himself ready to project at least some authority over this situation, “Cover your ears, babe.”

He let out a sharp, piercing whistle that echoed through the chaos.

It’s not the most diplomatic approach to get the room’s attention, but it got the job done.

Following the silence, a flash of lightning lit up the windows, accompanied by a rumbling growl of thunder from outside. A very satisfyingly, unexpected display of drama, leaving a few assistants gawking at him with just a tiny bit of awe.

Lance sat up proudly, and wrestled with his features at his own surprise at the timing and a swell of vainglory that was hard to cap.

“Now that I have your attention,” he said, leaning into the moment, “how about we keep it simple and have the cake be regular-cake-shaped: three-four tiers with extra slices in the back for distribution time?”

He glanced at Keith, who uncovered one ear to raise a hand in support.“I second that.”

After a pregnant pause, Lance lost the battle with his smirk as no objections were raised. Order restored —it was a rare win to get a speechless crowd these days!

Of course, It didn’t last.

Aoife released her grip on the book, having Dawn bungee back, stumbling back a meter, nearly falling on her ass. Never one to be caught off guard for too long, Aoife stepped forward with military precision and snapped into a rigid salute before him.“Pleasure for you to finally join us, Colonel. We weren’t expecting your return from Tzerlan for another month. We hope the negotiations ended favorably.”

Oh god, this again . He thought, grin growing tight as he forced a breath through his nose, “Lance is fine, " the words already a tired reflex on his tongue.

Besides, he could barely call himself a ‘Colonel’, and they all knew it. Just another infuriating reminder of the Garrison’s grip on their lives rather than an honorable or earned title. Even here, even now— in the midst of planning for his own wedding.

“And we’ve still got about a month or so left before we can wrap up this sect,” his voice steadied, working in a lighter and more casual tone. “We’re just on extended recess for the next like-40 hours- or so, thought I’d pop in, help with the cake…maybe take back that Wedding Binder, and get through some more finalizations on my side of things. Getting things back on track and all.” Lance winked at his fiancé, a knowing smile passing between both their lips.

It really wasn’t as simple as he made it seem. It took favors, careful maneuvering, and some major ass-kissing over the last two months to pull it off, and he had already maxed out the legal number of court absences he was allowed for the year so he didn’t have that to fall back on anymore.

Not that the Generals and reps of Peace and Sanctions hadn’t been lenient with certain dates and situations— cake tasting , however, certainly didn’t count as an exception or a medical emergency- which, on record, is absolute bullshit. Especially with this potential threat to intergalactic reverence!

He was kind of mad he didn’t think of that while drafting his proposal.

It was just, he was finally looking forward to something a little more lax and fun. Keith always swore he didn’t like any type of cake, an unheard-of phenomenon that Lance just had to challenge, with an arrangement of cakes from a world class baker. Seriously when would they get another chance like it! And he couldn’t miss such a revelation. A milestone!

And with just a couple hours to spare really, he wasn’t going to let some stupid design choice stop them now!

“So if we’re all finalized here, I say let’s get on to the next part.”

“HOLD— hold, hold. Hold-on a moment,” Dawn blinked, still recovering from her struggle with Aoife.

“How long did you say you’re staying for? Two days?” She blinked between him and Keith, eyeing them with a look that definitely wasn’t pleased that neither of them notified her of this.

Lance sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. To be fair. Lance barely knew if he was even going to make the meeting at all.“I didn’t know until last night. This isn’t exactly a long vacation.”

“You leave tomorrow, then?”

“Just after midnight….tonight.” He clarified just in case she thought to squeeze him in somewhere else. He still needed a couple hours for the commute back.

“Carlo!” Dawn’s voice rose as she called out over her shoulder. “See if Threading can fit Lance in right now for his suit fitting!”

Right now? Like… right now , right now?

Keith’s head snapped up, but before Lance could protest, Aoife chimed in, her voice low and measured.

“Just wait on a moment,” she started, “ Before you start dragging him out the door maybe consider his insights on the intercultural nuances.”

Lance looked to Aoife, gratitude outweighing his annoyance at her ‘Colonel’ comment from earlier.

“She’s right!” He cut in, just as another voice interrupted.

“Got Lora on the phone—would Paladin McClain be able to get to Italy within the hour?”

Dawn’s response was swift, cutting off any chance of protest. “Yes, he will!”

Lance’s stomach dropped. Italy. Now?

“We can run those details remotely,” She waved off Aoife with her hand passive aggressively inches from her nose, “ Right now the suit takes priority.”

“Dawn, I don’t think flight control is going to give me clearance for that kind of speed planet-side.” He tries, though the countering look that flashes in her eyes makes his arms drop to his sides in a half-hearted gesture of defeat.

“If you can get here from across the universe in just a few short hours, I’m sure it can take you minutes from here.”

Okay…admittedly that was a weak argument to begin with.

“We’re already behind on your suit, and it’s already hard enough to get you here with all your scheduling conflicts. I don’t want to waste you on a meeting like this. Go now, and we’ll have the cake drawn out by the end of this meeting!”

End of the meeting? Wha-So he came all this way and they weren’t even going to get any cake at all?

He had to admit, he liked Dawn, he liked that she fought for them, trying to balance what they wanted with what the Garrison demanded. But right now? He could hardly stand her.

“So,” Lance tried to hold back his disappointment and frustration, “We’ll need a second meeting for this? Isn’t that a bit excessive?” He shot a glance over at Keith, whose gaze flickered downward, shoulders dipping just enough for Lance to notice. Heart going heavy it—tipped something over in Lance.

All in all, in his mind, he knew he shouldn’t make a big deal about this…but all he could feel was the years’ worth spent juggling work and wedding planning, of the constant back and forth commute, Dawn and Aoife’s ear-grating bickering, and the weight of the endless wedding binder. When was the last time either of them even held a conversation that wasn’t about this stupid wedding that was more and more a publicity stunt for the Garrison than anything else at this point?

He was tired. He was irritated. And he just wanted one nice moment with his fiancé . Just one nice evening, eating cake together, and hopefully watching one perfect slice change Keith’s life. Was that really so hard to ask for?

“You know what? No.” His voice rose, firm and honed to an edge. “We’ve already settled on dates and a timeline. I know I’m holding us back on a few things, but you also can’t just keep adding more dates to the schedule because you two care more about arguing with each other than actually getting things done!” His resolve settled in with the fire behind his words. “I’m staying.” He exhaled sharply. “If that’s what it takes to keep you guys on track, and finish this to completion, then so be it. You think Keith here has endless time at his disposal too? We’re seeing this through— now .”

Keith placed a firm but gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder. His gaze met Lance’s wearing an expression he could probably draw from memory by now. Solidarity. “Lance has a point.” Keith certified.” We can’t keep adding more meetings every time something doesn’t go exactly as planned. Like you said, it’s already hard enough to coordinate our schedules and right now you have both of us here.”

Lance could melt. He could dissolve and be condensed, absolutely nothing left of him but a puddle of love and affection. However, Dawn didn’t give him a chance to even test the theory.

“There won’t be a second meeting.” Dawn settled. “The cake samples are already all freeze-preserved. There are enough slices for each of you to take with you. The flavor can be decided on in your own time.

“And as for the design…we’ll be sure to finish it by the end of today. But you’d be saving us a lot of time by getting your measurements and inputs out of the way with the tailor. And I’d like to get some more buffer room for you in case we need any last-minute alterations… Regarding any future delays…” She paused.

If Lance’s frustration was a wildfire then hers was a solar flare.

“It might be worth suggesting to the Garrison to send in someone a little more competent and a lot more efficient…for this sort of thing.”

Aoife who had already started to pale at Lance’s reproach, now appeared like how Lance imagined a polar bear might look after its job security was threatened.

“On my mother’s memory, once you reverse the preserving process, it will taste as if you’ve plucked it from my very hands!” The patissier chimed in rather unhelpfully.

“Great.” Lance remarked. Yet another moment stolen by duty, and responsibilities.

Just wonderful.

He started to lift his hand to pinch at the bridge of his brows when the patissier caught it and clasped both of Lance’s hands in his own. Lance barely registered what he was trying to do until his mind finally made sense of the frantic handshake.

“I have to just say before you go, it is such a pleasure to meet you most of all Mr. McClain! Truly, truly, tru~ly a great great honor! I was just telling your fiancée how you saved my village during the—”

“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Dawn cut in, her tone clipped. “But right now, we’d prefer to respect Mr. McClain’s time.”

Lance blinked, a half-formed retort already rising to his lips before he caught himself. “It’s alright, Dawn!” He said with a sheepish smile. Like a second skin, Lance slipped into his public figure persona, matching the man’s enthusiasm with a firm grip. “Think I can afford to get to know our star chef here!”

He laid thick the compliments and gratitude, which he found easy enough, given that he had been excited to try his cakes.

Before long, Lance got to hear how cool he looked taking down a destroyer drone that targeted a remote village during the Galra attack, way back when.

The man’s voice trembled recalling the helpless fear, gutting him as he yelled after Garrison fighter jets streaking just ahead towards the major nearby city. Too far to help his family and neighbors as they dodged enemy fire.

It wasn’t unlike the countless stories Lance had heard before, yet he couldn’t stop the prickling behind his own eyes, just as the patissier’s tears fell, raw and reflective. The intensity of the moment, however, might have been slightly abated by the man’s iron grip; which was starting to bite painfully into Lance’s skin.

Despite still being a bit damp from the rain, he pulled out his pocket square and offered it to him. Briefly, wondering if it sounded arrogant to joke about signing it for him after he was done—though at that point Dawn was already shoving him out the door.

Umbrella in hand, Keith trailed after, announcing that he’d walk Lance to his Lion to keep him from getting soaked again. And Lance tugs him out the door before anyone could point out the extras in the umbrella stand at his feet.

With the swiftness of a flicking switchblade, Keith popped open the umbrella, and Lance was at the ready, swiping it from his hand before he could hold it steady, like a true gentleman.

Keith’s expression flickered wide, before shifting into a type of tentative levity that didn’t quite hold the same familiar fire Lance was used to seeing when he did something unexpectedly chivalrous—it felt distant, muted.

Lance watched him for a beat longer, sensing the way Keith settled into his touch, but he didn’t lean into their interwoven hands. Just a bit worrying— usually clinging extra hard to the excess of Lance’s heat when his hands were that cold.

Lance tightened his grip just a fraction as they moved deeper into the storm and the early winter air.

Really, he should have been nagging Keith by now for not bringing a proper winter jacket, so they could have waddled their way back huddled beneath it. But he looked less open to any of Lance’s usual antics for tonight.

In general, Keith was more prickly when he was cold, and maybe Lance was a bit too tired, himself, to try to tease those quills with any real finesse.

Especially in that downcast gaze of his staring light-years away, with a dimness of dwindling embers. Despite his presence feeling like standing next to an open flame— steady and easing, doing a much better job shielding them, than Lance was on his side.

An ache drilled itself a pit into Lance’s chest.

He subtly tilted the umbrella more to Keith’s side—a small automatic gesture that somehow made him feel just a bit more pathetic. As if this was all he could do right now.

He’d been the one who pushed more heavily to make their wedding this big, grand thing, insisting they deserved nothing less. And though Keith had his own reasons for agreeing to it, here he was—flailing while Keith quietly held everything together, never once complaining. Not-a-once.

All Lance had done was complain…and miss half the meetings, stuck on the other side of the known universe…it’s why he had so badly wanted to plan something special-something just a little memorable. But now, even that felt like another hollowed-out promise.

That was getting a bit too common for his liking these days. Guilt drilled deeper further down to the pit of his stomach. It felt like it might hollow him out completely.

He gathered some of his thoughts as they halted at a signaled crosswalk, watching the blinking red light reflecting off the wet road, expelling a rather loud breath—Not entirely sure what was about to come out of his mouth.

When in doubt, start with the basics.

Keith was already watching him expectantly. Just the sight of him framed by the backdrop of cascading rain from the umbrella’s edge, made the words spill out a bit easier in their small, intimate bubble.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, giving Keith’s hand a gentle squeeze, hoping it carried some of the weight and sincerity he couldn’t quite express. “I keep dropping the ball on you, leaving you with all the heavy lifting.

“I know it’s unfair, I know it’s a lot…so thank you for being so great and keeping everything on track. I wanted to express that better, especially today, but instead, I’m stuck playing catch up and probably going to bore you with cultural theories instead for the next couple of hours.”

He managed a small smile before adding, “But I do promise I’ll make it up to you too somehow. Once this sect is over I’m going in one hundred and twenty percent! I swear it!”

When the pedestrian light turned, Lance nudged his fiancée forward, noticing a faltering hesitation in Keith’s step.

“Where’s this coming from?” He frowned, eyes narrowing, searching his face.

Okay…so maybe Lance’s rambling hadn’t quite hit its mark. He tries again, channeling his Keith-speak. “You…just look like you’ve been ejected out of the wrong end of a wormhole, and I know it’s because I haven’t been here to help you steer through…all this.”

Lance honestly couldn’t tell if that landed any better, but the subtle twitch in the corners of Keith’s frown felt like a small victory in the battle against words.

Keith shakes his head, his gaze holding a bit more focus than before. “We’re both managing what we can. Even if we’re not always working at it side by side, we’re still steering through accordingly.

There’s a stubborn intensity in his tone, a quiet insistence that Lance knew well. Trying to command away Lance’s concerns before they dig in too deep.

“And you don’t have to kill yourself either trying to keep promises I don’t need from you. I don’t need one-twenty percent. "

“Then what do you need?”

Keith’s frown deepened glaringly. Lance is almost convinced he’s going to say ‘nothing’ which Lance already has his answer to that. Bu—llshi—t.

He shrugged, surprisingly, with mostly a real answer on hand. “Just be here when you can and take care of yourself.” His tone wasn’t particularly warm, and neither was his gaze as it zeroed in on Lance’s soaked clothes with something close to contempt— like he was on the verge of ordering him to strip and hit the showers— and not in a sexy way. No, in the increasingly familiar, mother-hen way that crept its way into Keith’s demeanor sometime after the war.

Not that Lance would dare point it out. That was one hill he refused to die on—only partly out of self-preservation. Mostly because of how endearing his fretting was. Not even the cold, damp weight of his suit could smother the warmth it stirred in him.

Keith’s attention flickered back to his face pointedly, eyebrow arched prophetically. He nudged Lance for good measure, signaling that he had enough of any serious talks for today. “Besides if anyone looks like they’ve just came out the wrong end of a wormhole— it’s you.”

If he had a free hand Lance would have immediately ran it through his tousled hair, recalling how someone made a mess of it earlier. “Really, I think the whole ‘battle-worn hero making a grand return to his beloved’ look suits me, actually .”

“Hmm,” Keith mused, his gaze flickering over him, unimpressed. “Who won, you or the hurricane?”

Lance scoffed, leaning in with a roguish gleam. “I made it here, didn’t I?”

Keith’s eyes darted to his lips, a fleeting motion, but Lance, being the simple man he is, did not need a second invitation. He whirled in front of his fiancé closing the distance between them; capturing Keith’s mouth with his own.

Keith was usually all teeth. Toying and nipping wherever he could sink them. Now it’s not so relentless or unrestrained. It was slow—lingering, desperate.

Electricity battered down Lance’s spine; lighting a fire that burned through his torso and into his hands. He wrestled with the urge to pull him closer, trying not to press his clammy clothes against him in the cold. But Keith didn’t seem to care.

He tugged Lance flushed against him, holding tight, seemingly oblivious to the chill probably soaking through the shirt beneath the open folds of his lightweight jacket.

The world around them muted a bit like this. Reduced to the gentle sound of water running somewhere around them; warmth bleeding where gale and rain couldn’t claw its way between them.

Pulling back just enough to look into Keith’s eyes, Lance grinned, mischief overcoming him. “See? I won.” His voice dropped to a whisper, rich with reverent, already leaning in for another—then another. “For you, I’d cross the universe every day if you asked me to.”

Keith brushed his thumb along Lance’s jaw, a sound rolling out of him, like a purr of an engine rumbling past Lance’s parted lips. He licked over the warmth it left behind, savoring its distinct taste of resonance.

It was a far cry from where they began, a thought that swirled briefly before Keith angled to rest their foreheads together, disarming him of any further thoughts entirely.

“I’m glad you’re here—”

Lance’s ringtone cut savagely, and rather rudely interrupting him, like an obnoxious alarm clock capsizing them out of a dream. He reached for it, seriously considering just chucking it out of sight, when a flash caught in his periphery— not lightning.

Looks like some tabloid scored themselves a cover photo ; and from the irked sidelong glare on his face, Keith noticed too.

Though they weren’t necessarily concerned about paparazzi money shots—aside from the general annoyance. It usually meant an added surprise to their schedule from their friends at PR-A la Garison. No doubt perfectly overlapping his lunchtime—and Keith’s dinner—once he got back to the Tzerlans.

Awesome .

With a deep sigh, Lance begrudgingly pulled back, unable to find his earpiece in his pockets. He tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, freeing at least one hand to lazily smooth down the more errant strands of Keith’s bangs reluctant to sever the connection from the moment entirely.

“Yes, Dawn.” He chirped sweetly; irritation clawing up his throat, sharp and tangible, like a round seated in its chamber, ready to lash out.

“You forgot the Binder.”

Lance groaned, swearing under his breath. “Seriously?”

“I can grab it for you.” Keith offered, unsurprisingly able to hear the other end probably as crisply as Lance’s own ears.

More surprisingly, apparently so could Dawn.

“YOU’RE STILL NOT AT YOUR LION!”

Lance stuppered, rubbing at his lobe, which burned like it had been punched. “I-ah-I’m about to launch right now actually.” He winced. Definitely, not believable . “Just… parked a little far off. You know, city life and giant lions don’t mix well.”

He tries to end the call, but Dawn holds him to lecture about being respectful and to call after the tailor gets everything he needs from him.

Lance barely registered much else before noticing something like ash floating in the air. His gaze flickered upward, and his focus slipped entirely as he interrupted abruptly— something about signal interference with his lion before cutting the line.

“Holy shit, it’s snowing!” He blurted, all his frustrations forgotten as he dropped the umbrella. Thick clusters of flurries spiraled around them, erratic and alive. Keith looked up, just as a strike of lighting lit up behind the cloud.

Lance watched Keith’s lips part slightly, his eyes reflecting the pale glow of the lightning. Thrill struck him like a live wire as a distant memory surfaced—a planet far from here, where they’d last encountered snow together…Or at least, something with its resemblance. However, the coal-like lumps there had been underwhelming. Nothing like the delicate, crystalline patterns he had once seen on Earth.

Something he’d vowed to show Keith in person one day. What were the odds of the timing? And lightening! He sent a quick thank you out to the universe for handing him the perfect chance to stage a comeback.

Lance set the umbrella down. “Give me your hand,” He instructed and was only given a puzzled look once it was in his grasp. He turned it palm out and gently lifted it into the air to let the snow gather in his palm.

He spared only a fleeting thought for any more cameras lurking about; deciding to let them take as many pictures as they wanted. The damage was already done, and he’d like the memento anyway.

“What are you doing?”Keith asked, his tone caught between distrustful and exasperated, as Lance settled behind him grabbing his other arm.

“Obviously I’m too hot,” He jeered, lowly. Tilting his head to nuzzle his cheek against the side of his hair; his breath warm against Keith’s ear. “It’ll melt the second it gets near me.”

Lance could only see the tail end of the curl of his mouth as Keith gave a small snort. “That’s your excuse?”He leaned a bit further back and tilted his head to give him a knowing look.

“It’s not an excuse; it’s the laws of science,” Lance said matter-of-factly, “Now do you wanna see some real snow or no?”

There was a moment of pause, in which Keith just gazed at him. His expression shifting to something unreadable and searching. As though starting to shift through those dusted memories himself. Lance could see the recognition catching up as he turned back to the sky, another sharp flash of lighting brilliantly illuminating the storm clouds in the distance.

“I didn’t know that could happen,” Keith murmured, tone somewhere between wonder and suspicion.

Feeling a bit devilish, he bit back a laugh, “Wow—hey, do you think the clouds are plotting something?” He asked, tone grave.

Keith slid him a flat look, deadpan. “Dunno, should we go interrogate them?” A lopsided smile sneaks its way past his dry humor, and a faint exhault escapes him, curling into smoke.

Without another word, he settled, resting his head against Lance’s jaw. Letting himself be used as a personal snow catcher, rather content with taking the role if the wide grin spreading about him was anything to go by.

Lance guided Keith’s palms out invitingly; however, most of the snowflakes whirled past, rather shy or apprehensive about settling on the skin.

The quiet moment stretched, and not a single flake found itself yet in their grasp. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Keith lamented after a while. Breaking through the stillness with a half-hearted sigh.

“Yeah, but I don’t think Italy has snow— or fiancé ’s right now, so I’m not much in a hurry.” Lance grinned, tilting a bit of pressure against his partner’s temple. " Why? Trying to get rid of me, already?”

“Trying to save you from Dawn’s wrath actually, when she sees tomorrow’s papers.”

Lance sucked air through his teeth, as one really large cluster spiraled past, evating their reach. “I happen to have a lot of experience with firecracker personalities. Getting married to one actually.”

“Might be harder than you think. I don’t think you’re her type.”

“Ouch, babe. Way to kill a man’s confidence,” Lance said, faining injury with a wince. “Here I thought I was a universal taste.”

“A universal pain in the ass.” Keith huffed.

“Okay, now you’re just fishing.” Lance raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at his lips. “But fine, I’ll bite ‘cause you’re cute. " He made a show of clearing his throat. “That’s exclusively all~ll your’s baby—happy?”

Keith’s lips twitched, “Hmm, doesn’t usually take so much effort to pry something like that out of you. What gives?”

“Excuse you! Are you implying I’m easy?”

“No…just really, really charming.”

“If you’re trying to distract me with sweet talk, just know—it’s working. You’ll never get rid of me now—”

Finally one landed right into their waiting grasp at the hollow of Keith’s hands. Lance guided them to take a closer look at the feathery cluster, that looked so light and airy, appearing like it was about to float away in the wind.

They leaned in, catching the light, showing a glimmer of fragile entanglement of glassey shapes around the outer edges of the melting mound. They watched marveling, and he could feel Keith go still, holding his breath, as if he was afraid even the slightest exhale would risk disturbing it, making it vanish all that quicker.

When it disappeared, Keith turned to him with a wide expectant grin—bright and open, like a kid wanting to be swept up again, ready for another spin. It was impossible not to be drawn into it, his own pretenses melting away like the snow dissolving against the heat of his skin. Until everything made sense again. Until everything felt easy and simple again. Just the two of them, in the cold snow.

Lance couldn’t resist obliging, reaching out with open hands for them to try again, the snow orchestrating its escape around them. Still, they managed to catch a few more delicate flakes that lingered for only a heartbeat— there and gone again.

“They look like the paper ones,” Keith said. Referencing the paper snowflakes they made with Lance’s cousins for their art project.

“Much nicer than the cotton balls, don’t you think?” A knowing smile tugged at his lips, his voice light with the double meaning that he trusted Keith to catch. " What did you think they looked like?”

“I don’t know—like white sand maybe.”

“I used to think it would look and taste like powdered sugar,” Lance admitted. “Imagine my disappointment when it was just cold and hard to catch, but…think it grew on me.” With that, he tilted his head back sticking out his tongue, breath curling into the cold air. Keith stared at him for a beat and followed suit. Not even a second later, he made a noise of surprise triumph. “Ah-y cau’gh one!”

Lance joined him, calling in his own muffled noises of victory, mentally noting how much more easier this was than trying to catch them with their hands. When his gaze drifted down, the sight of Keith grinning widely, with his tongue sticking out, was too much. Uncontrollable laughter took over, spilling in a cloud of breath as he tightened his arms around Keith, shaking both of them with the force of it.

Keith shifted in his hold, now facing him and pressing his cold nose into his neck; huddling there, the last of his resistance crumbling as he visibly quaked against the relentless cold.

Lance tried to warm him, his hands darting up and down his arms and back, his breath concentrating steam to his pink ears. He didn’t even mind when Keith pressed his fingers at his armpits, holding them down firmly to trap in whatever heat he could seal.

He knew he was probably making it worse, all things considered. And knew he’d have to be the one to pull them apart— because if it were left to his stubborn fiancé , he’d keep them there until historians unearthed their ice-encased bodies.

Still, Lance didn’t move right away. The moment feeling too short, and tomorrow too near.

“Sorry, we didn’t get to try the cakes together.”

“We’ll eat them together next time,” he replied easily. “It was more about coming to see you anyway.”

Keith hummed, “I know.”

Lance shifted slightly, starting to pull back, regretting it already as the air bit savagely in the spaces that used to be Keith. He didn’t linger after that, pulling them hurriedly against the wind toward the direction of his lion—barely remembering the umbrella at their feet.

He tried to preserve some heat in his fiancé ’s hands, blowing puffs of breath into one before focusing attention to the other as they walked. Occasionally, pressing a quick kiss to his iced tips—minutely aware of where they’d just crawled out from and not caring in the slightest.

In his own way, Keith seemed to distract him too. “Do you actually remember where you’re supposed to go after this?”

Lance blinked, almost wanting to be offended. He’s not that scatterbrained! “Uh—yeah, totally. To the tailor’s, obviously.”

“Address?”

“Okay, maybe not totally .” He remarked. He hands over his phone for Keith to record himself in his voice notes.

“What would I do without you?”

“Probably left holding over an entire country,” Keith teased, handing him back the device.

xxx

He’d dropped Keith off as close to the patisserie as he could without drawing Dawn’s attention, keeping humor present in their conversation until the moment came for goodbye

Which wasn’t really a goodbye. They’d see each other home soon enough and fall asleep in each other’s arms. A month would pass, and they’d do the same for many more nights.

He rubbed his thumb absentmindedly over the familiar rough texture of his engagement ring. Only to notice it glowing, the feel of it pulsing under his skin just barely distinguishable under the hum of Reds flight—but there it was. And Lance held it receptively.

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched this week (#174):

2 old Hungarian films:

🍿 Ferenc Molnár's classic The boys of Paul street is a novel about two honorable gangs of school kids, who are fighting over an empty lot in the center of Budapest of 1902. When I was their age (so early 1960's) it was called "מחניים", and it was one of my favorite books (together with these of Erich Kästner's, Yigal Mossinson's, Enid Blyton's, Karl May's, Jules Verne's, etc).

So it was wonderful to discover that it was made into a well-made drama in 1968. The premise of a syrupy children story from that time, made about a naive world, unaware of any future European world wars, doesn't bode well. But it retained all its earnest truths, honors and morals. It was nominated for the Best Foreign Language Film (together with 'The Firemen's Ball', Truffaut's 'Stolen Kisses' and Bondarchuk's winner 'War and Peace'). In a week that was cinematically disappointing, that was my bright spot. 8/10.

🍿 Unrelated to David Cronenberg, The fly won the 1980 Oscars for animated shorts. It tell a story from a pesky fly's point of view.

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I am trying to watch at least 25% movies directed by women. Female Directors (2012) was made by 2 young female graduates of a Beijing film school, who couldn't afford to make a "Real" studio movie, so they make an indie "Home" movie of themselves. Strong early Godard vibes with shaky handheld camera and bad potato sound. Fresh and candid look as they search for themselves via sex, cinema, money. It feels like I've been in all these alleys.... [*Female Director*].

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Short Vacation (2020), a gentle, tiny Korean version of 'Stand by me', but without any histrionics or a dead guy. 4 unremarkable middle school girls, members of the photography club, receive analog cameras from their teacher, who suggest they use the summer break to take of 'the end of the world'. They decide to take the train all the way to the last station, and end up in the "middle of nowhere". 7/10.

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2 with actress Sakura Ando, both from 2023:

🍿 "It's like a prehistoric dinosaur turned monster..."

My second Godzilla (after the 1954 original), Godzilla minus one, the latest in the franchise. The monster stuff was ridiculous, as usual I guess, but the human drama part recreating post-war Tokyo, and especially the cutest 2 year old baby girl got bonus points from me. 5/10.

🍿 In Monster, my 6th film by Hirokazu Kore, she stars as a single mother to a 11 year old son who starts exhibiting strange behavior. For most of the story, it feels like 'The kindergarten teacher' and 'Hunt', and 'The teachers' Lounge', where the accusations of abuse might not be true, but it ends as a beautiful heartbreak, softly told. With a tender score by Ryuichi Sakamoto, his last before his death. 8/10.

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The Sensualist (1991), an erotic Japanese animation, in a traditional Ukiyo-e woodblock style, like the original story of which it is based. Combination Patrick Nagel, Hiroshige and very-adult Disney stories. Ends with a long, artistic 'Coitus'. M'eh.

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Patisserie Coin de rue (2011) is Food porn for imbeciles who love Japanese cake shops. I have a serious sweet tooth myself, but this story was just too dumb. Gorgeous cinematography of beautiful patisseries, and religious reverie for desserts. I could barely last for 42 minutes.

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The Contestant is a new British documentary about aspiring comedian "Nasubi", who participated in a grotesque Japanese Television show in 1998. For 13 months he was placed naked in an empty room and was told that in order to get out, he will need to win 1 million yen in write-in sweepstakes. He didn't know that his every move was being broadcasted and that he'd became a massive hit. A bizarre, real-life 'Truman Show', and possibly the very first 'Reality TV' show ever. It was stupid, and cruel 'Mass Entertainment'. Fortunately, there's a tiny point of redemption at the very end. 2/10. [*Female Director*].

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Cœur fidèle (Faithful Heart) (1923), my first 'poetic realist' melodrama by French Impressionist Jean Epstein. A technical classic with modern editing, dynamic story telling and lots of expressive close ups. He was 26 when he made it on location in the port of Marseille.

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Sleeping beauty is a disturbing erotic art film by an Australian auteur, with a small cameo for Sarah Snook. A pretty student freelancing as a hooker on a 'Story of O' type journey into the deep end of 'Sleep' fetishism. If it was made by a man, I would hate it uncategorically. As it was, I found it prurient and shallow, flat and cold. 2/10. [*Female Director*].

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I saw Gifted before, and the ratings I gave it weren't too high. But I'm a sap for tearjerkers about special little girls and their single dad/uncle, so I gave it another go. The Hallmark-style custody battle was mediocre, but all the girl stuff left me in tears nonstop. Add some Cat Stevens to the score, and you get quality Soap. 7/10. (Photo Above). Re-Watch ♻️.

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The rope (1984), my first Sudanese movie. 2 blind nomads stumbles in an empty desert, tied together to a donkey. A cruel, wordless metaphor. Unbearable misery. 1/10.

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Bogart & Bacall X 2:

🍿 Fast film is a 2003 Austrian mash-up art film, composed of 65,000 paper cutouts of Bogart and Cary Grant, and moving through 400 other classic movies. But this type of collage was done better and smoother in the Hungarian 'Final Cut: Ladies and Gentlemen' and Michel Hazanavicius' 'La Classe américaine'.

🍿 Dark passage, my first Film Noir by Delmer Daves. 5'10'' Bogart plays an innocent convict, who escapes from San Quentin, trying to prove his innocence. But wherever he goes, people around him keep falling dead. It was the third of four films real-life couple Bacall and Bogart made together. 1947 San Francisco and surroundings was lovely with so few people and cars on the roads.

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I haven't seen Bob Fosse's acclaimed All that jazz since its premiere 45 years ago, so I was so looking forward for a re-watch. But after 3 days of attempting to go through it, I could muster only 33 minutes, before realizing how much I hated it, and had to stop. The genius Alpha male who kills himself in self-loathing, while abusing everything and everybody around him, is no longer appealing to me. The entitlement, misogyny, idealization of a legendary narcissist "Icon" was unbearable. ♻️.

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3 shorts by British illustrator Elizabeth Hobbs:

🍿 "When I was a debutante, I went to the zoo every day..."

The Debutante (2022) is based on a story by Leonora Carrington. A debutante persuades a hyena from the London Zoo to take her place at a dinner dance held in her honour. [*Female Director*].

🍿 I'm OK (2018) is even better. It is based on the life of Expressionist artist Oskar Kokoschka during WW1. Same frantic, hand-drawn splotchy style. 8/10. [*Female Director*].

🍿The Old, Old, Very Old Man (2007) is still earlier. Created with blue ink on a bathroom tile. The style here is dirtier, more primitive. [*Female Director*].

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Amino ('Shadows'), a dreary award-winning Filipino film from 2000. A poor, hungry man with absolutely nothing to his name but a camera, gets his camera stolen in Manila's most miserable slum.

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"I'm not lying. I saw her! Fuck you!..."

I haven't seen A simple Favor since January 19, but every time I recommend it to somebody, I feel compelled to check it out again. So about every 6 weeks now?! Jesus Christ, it's absurd!

Anyway, Anna Kendrick has the whitest teeth, and the worst taste in ugly shoes, on and off screen. My 10 Minutes Pinch Point Analyses still stands. 10/10. Re-Watch ♻️.

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Surprisingly, I haven't seen any of Stormy Daniels porn work, but I had followed her story "with interest". The new documentary Stormy offers little new information to political junkies, but it details the harrowing path this brave woman had to endure, and the incredible price she had to pay. Unfortunately, it shows many clips of Orange Sphincter talking, something I try to avoid as much as possible. May he lose bigly in his current criminal case in NY, and also may he catch incurable rectal cancer today, and live the rest of his days in painful agony. [*Female Director*].

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(My complete movie list is here.)

[supersabbatical2024]

4/30/24: Got behind on our travel log,,,spent a while going through photos of our good dog Oreo and our family over the past 15 years…time has a way of passing by ey…?

Here is a recap of the last few days.

April 25: Our friends from Milan showed up at our door in Aix, and we had the charcuterie, cheese and baguettes waiting. Claude has known the two sisters, Valeria and Giovanna Fossa, since late 80’s(?) when Claude’s father Peter made friends with the whole Fossa family in Virgin Gorda (the Caribbean vacation spot where Peter and Regina visited with Claude each year for about 30 years). The parents have all passed on, but we have remained in touch with Valeria and her husband Roberto, and their daughter Mapi, as well as Giovanna. David and Mapi are the same age, and did a home swap in 2015(?) where Mapi came to NJ and then traveled back to Milan with David. David and Mapi still keep in touch, and David owes much of his Italian language skills to Mapi and the Fossas!

Anyway, we have met up with the Fossa family several times over the years in France, England, Sardinia—just a really “sympatico” fun time, always. So this year, this lovely group drove 6 hours to meet us in Aix, and brought along close family friend Lamberto, a really sweet and easygoing guy. We chatted all evening and, despite the fact that we have not been together for 6+ years, it was as if no time had passed. Graciously, the Italians switched into English language mode, so we could communicate more easily. Even though there are 4 of them and 2 of us Americans…we are so spoiled!! I was struck by the fact that, even when they were speaking amongst themselves, they would often speak English, so as not to leave us out of the conversation. I thought this was a really sweet gesture. Giovanna insisted that even though they do love us, it is really just easier for her not to switch back and forth between English and Italian—so just easier to stick to English. But I know it’s just Because they love us so much. ❤️ I did proclaim that I would be learning some Italian before we see them again…first I have to master le Français.

April 26: Friday morning we travelled together to Gordes to check out the massive Abbaye de Sénanque, where the Cistercians chose to found a monastery in 1148. Luckily, Giovanna is an architect and explained a bunch of interesting structural information and history, which made the whole thing much more interesting to me. We also learned the word that Claude has been searching for to describe his design plan for an office renovation in our house in Maine. We are putting a dormer into the roof to create some height and space in the upstairs area. Just so you don’t forget, dear Claude, the intersection of the dormer to the roof lines is known as the “Transceptor” (sp?) NOT the “Apse.” In any event the Abbaye was likely built in the Romanesque period, after they had learned advanced methods for structuring their massive arching spaces. Our Maine house will have no such Romanesque design features, but at least Claude learned some new facts.

We also made it to Rouillons, Sentiers Des Ocres, the “ochre cliffs.” We had to trek quickly, since we only had 45 minutes to get through the 4 kilometer path before closing time for the park. NO problem! We plodded through the soft clay ground, staring up at the orangey-red-brown cliffs. Just Amazing. Popped into an art store nearby that had thousands of jars of paint pigments, with varous blends of the colors of the cliffs, and also the now iconic Cobalt that I have always loved (and will always love) so much. I wanted to buy ALL the jars!!!! Just the entire set of blues maybe? OR the colors used by Matisse? Picasso? Mondrian? Cezanne? But then the greens and the purples were so LUSCIOUS.…!!! >Gasp< Claude convinced me to get a small set—little chips of a wide variety of colors—and gently escorted me out of the store before I hyperventilated with joy. Laudrèe Patisserie for fancy macarons.