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mrs-lockley · 7 months ago

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Reach for the Moon | II. The Falling

PAIRINGS: (Slow Burn, Romantic) Jake Lockley x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, (Platonic) Steven Grant x Southeast Asian!Fem Reader, (Unrequited) Marc Spector x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, no use of Y/N, no physical description of the reader but coded to be very feminine

WARNINGS: Unrequited love (Reader is in love with Marc, Marc is oblivious but means well), mentions and discussions of food (cooking and baking), italics in dialogue indicates Reader and her parents speaking a foreign language (unspecified), brief mention of middle school and high school, so much yearning and fluff that you might get a toothache

WORD COUNT: 7.3k

Inspired by the 1954 film & 1995 remake of Sabrina, No Moon Knight AU.

SERIES MASTERLIST | PART I. THE BREAKING

CHAPTER SUMMARY: The wall begins to crumble, revealing the White Knight waiting on the other side. You soon learn there is more to the man beneath the armor, and see the heart that lies within.

TAGLIST: @soft-girl-musings, @venting402, @musing-magpie, @writefightandflightclub, @kezibear, @silverklaus, @badbishsblog, @marc-spectorr, @myhohastuff, @grumpyahjumma, @h4untedsp3ctor, @harv3sting

See end for author's notes

THE FALLING

The next couple of weeks were quiet, but eventful as the days grew shorter into the start of autumn. As the leaves changed from green to red and the air grew colder, you found solace in the change of seasons. A new season brought new beginnings, and life had a way of bringing you into unexpected places.

Since the success of your cousin’s bakery (the Mochi Flower Bakery and Café, as you and your cousin affectionately named it) in Singapore, your family considered expanding the business to New York. You exchanged ideas and recipes over video calls with your cousin, aunt, and uncle as your parents researched possible places to open up shop. It was all new and exciting, and in hindsight, distracted you from the heartache of being left at the market that summer night. There was no better distraction than trying to perfect the recipe for the most delicious lemon ricotta cake.

Marc texted you a few days later with an apology. He left you a voicemail as well (you were running errands when he called), and as you listened to his apology, you still could not find it in yourself to be upset with him for leaving you. How could you be angry with him when you still harbored an unrequited crush on him almost three years later?

When he offered to meet with you to make amends, you politely declined with an excuse that you were visiting an old college friend from out of town, but in reality, you did not know if you could face him again.

After that night, you carefully discarded the daffodils he had given you when he picked you up from the airport. Your heart was numb as you stared at the dried petals in the wastebasket, your eyes puffy and swollen for the next few nights. Could you truly mourn a loss if he was never yours?

You never told your parents or Steven the truth of the date, and you wondered if they knew. If they did, your parents never said anything, but your best friend —ever the perceptive man— seemed to know the truth, even when you tried to hide it from him.

It was a Sunday night when Steven was with you in the kitchen. While your parents were watching a drama in the living room, you and Steven wore matching aprons as he helped you bake a vegan blueberry cake.

“In the middle of my tour, I was talking about the Egyptian mummification process when one of the girls interrupted me and asked if I knew what it was like to be rejected from the Field of Reeds,” Steven told you as you frosted the cake. “Honestly, middle school girls can be vicious, especially when some of her friends laughed with her.”

You looked over at him, your eyes soft as you placed a gentle hand over his. “Kids can be brutal, but they’re just kids. I was a middle school girl once, and we aren’t all bad. People change.”

Steven smiled softly with a sigh as you finished frosting the cake. You wanted to replicate a vintage cake with different shades of blue and ivory cream, and you hoped that you were not putting too much buttercream. As pretty as vintage cakes looked, you did not like wasting the cream when you knew most people do not eat all of it. You were more accustomed to your desserts being on the lighter side of the sweetness scale, and ever since your return from Singapore, you had a hard time stomaching American pastries.

“You’re right about that love,” Steven agreed. Once you set the piping bag aside, he moved to start decorating the top with blueberries. “They’re just kids, but they’ll change and grow. But I admit, I was feeling a little sassy too.”

You lowered your hands and looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” You narrowed your eyes at him, lightly swatting his hand as he sneakily tried to eat a few blueberries. “I just told her that the souls in the duat would try to claim anyone who fell in the sand, and that she better hope that if I was rejected, I wouldn’t be the first one to eat her.”

“Steven Grant!”

Your best friend chuckled as you scolded him, narrowly dodging your wooden spoon. “She was being rather nasty throughout the tour, so I had to give her a reality check.”

You let out a dejected sigh as he grabbed another handful of blueberries from the basket. You did not have the heart to tell him to stop since you already finished decorating the cake.

For as long as you have known Steven, he was quite a character. Smart and quick-witted, he always fired back in the most eloquent manner.

“Okay, maybe she deserved it,” you told him, trying not to roll your eyes as he grinned mischievously beside you. “But I’m not condoning it.”

You moved over to the stove to pour yourself, Steven, and your parents a cup of tea. Throughout your life, your parents always liked a cup of tea with their dessert, and through the years, you got Steven into that habit as well.

Your best friend hummed quietly as he helped set the cups on the counter, his fingers lightly tracing the small teacup. It was one of your favorite sets, white with a dark blue floral design painted across the ceramic with a matching saucer and golden teaspoon.

“I don’t think I’ve seen this set before,” Steven mused as you placed the kettle back onto the stove. “When did you get this?”

Heat licked at your cheeks, your heart pounding as you looked down at the cup. The warmth of the tea burned your fingers slightly as you held the teacup in your hands, and if you pulled away, you wondered if the flowers burned onto your skin like a brand that would never heal.

“Marc got it for me for my birthday before I went to Singapore,” you answered quietly, your voice low. “I don’t remember where he got it, but he said he knew someone who knew where to find tea sets.”

A dull ache grew in the depths of your chest as you remembered your last birthday before you left for Singapore. Your parents took you out of town to celebrate the Friday before your birthday, and that weekend, your mother cooked your favorite noodles (“for long life,” she would always say) and your father commissioned one of his coworkers to bake a special cake for you. You celebrated one day with your family, and another with your old childhood and college friends. It was a wonderful sendoff before your departure, but you could not help but feel nostalgic at the memory.

One day, you lamented to Marc how much you wanted a matching tea set. A few times you traveled with your parents as a teenager to the Lion City where you admired your aunt’s tea sets that she displayed in their china cabinet. You remembered how much your mother pestered your father to buy any matching dinnerware whenever there was a sale at her favorite department store, especially when there were tea sets. While your family did not have much when they immigrated to the United States, your mother would tell you that her parents collected china and other sets as family heirlooms. She wished she could have taken it with her to New York, and you wanted to help her create a collection here.

A few days before your birthday, Marc dropped by your place with a gift box wrapped beautifully with a navy blue bow on top. Your parents were in the kitchen eavesdropping as you opened the gift on the living room floor with Marc at your side.

“Marc, it’s beautiful,” you told him. You held the ceramic delicately in your hands, sighing in awe as you turned it over. The dark blue floral design was nostalgic and intricate. “They look just like the ones that my aunt and uncle have back home.”

He smiled gently at you, his arms warm as you hugged him. “I’m glad you liked it. Happy birthday, kid.”

You placed your teacup down on the saucer and sighed. Out of all the tea sets you owned, you rarely used the blue one that Marc had given you. It was your favorite, and as much as your mother wanted to take it down from the china cabinet to use, you always told her that you wanted to save it for special occasions.

But since that night, you brought it down from the cabinet. Your mother didn’t say anything when she watched you wash the set in the sink, and you wondered if she knew the real reason you brought it down.

He was quiet as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Did Marc hurt you?”

You felt his eyes on you as you rolled the golden teaspoon between your fingers. You did not know if you had the courage to look at him.

Instead of answering, you shook your head. Steven sighed beside you, and you knew he did not believe you.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Tears pricked your eyes, and you quickly brushed them away with the back of your hand.

“There’s nothing to talk about. He still loves her, and I have to move on,” you answered as you turned to him with a weak smile. “I have to grow up and be a big girl now.”

His brown eyes softened, but full of worry as he looked at you.

“Don’t blame yourself, love,” he comforted you. “He still cares about you.”

You knew that Marc still cared for you as a friend, but deep down, you knew he would never love you the way you loved him.

“I know,” you whispered. You wiped at your eyes again and sighed, trying to get your mind off it. “Let’s cut the cake and bring the tea in the living room for my parents. They’re too engrossed in their drama to get off the couch.”

He chuckled softly, and you were grateful he did not bring it up again for the rest of the night. For the rest of the evening, you and Steven sat with your parents in the living room drinking tea and eating cake as they explained the romantic drama they were watching. It was a show that you remembered watching with your cousin in Singapore, and you could not help but smile as you saw how engrossed Steve became with the plot and characters.

At the end of the night, you packed a few slices of the cake (with extra blueberries, per Steven’s request) for Steven to take home for Marc and Jake. As you walked him to the bus stop at the end of your street, he turned to you and pulled you into his arms, his voice soft and gentle.

“I am always here for you, love,” he whispered, “whenever you need me.”

Your heart ached as he comforted you, and you pulled him tighter into your embrace.

“Thank you.”

You sit in the kitchen with ink stained on your fingers as you look over the drawings of cakes, cupcakes, and different pastries in your sketchbook. Jake texted you earlier that afternoon if you wanted to join him in surprising his neighbor for her birthday. Taweret lived alone with the rest of her family back in Cairo, and she only had a couple friends with her in New York. There were a few times you encountered her whenever you visited his apartment (mainly to cook and exchange recipes with Steven), you became acquainted with the elderly lady. Whenever she saw you, she always requested to try whatever baked goods that you brought with you. Because of her, you always packed extra sweets, knowing how much she adored you and you, her.

Your parents were not too familiar with Jake, but they knew enough that he was quite old-fashioned and polite (and “reminiscent of the gentlemen of my youth,” your mother remarked to your father’s chagrin). You wondered if they were relieved that it was not Marc at the door when Jake dropped you off after your “date.”

True to his word, he was around much more than before and met with you often. In the times that you two met, they were casual outings where you would grab a bite to eat or a drink at the local coffee shop. Other times, you asked him to tag along with you as you ran a few errands around town. It was during those times he offered to drive you, especially when you were grocery shopping for ingredients to try new recipes to add to a possible menu. He never accepted gas money from you (despite all the sneaky ways you tried to bribe him), but you compromised and treated him —and Steven and Marc— to any baked goods you created.

Once you are satisfied with your revisions, you tuck your journal into your bag and take a seat at the kitchen island, your eyes locked on the oven window. While you are in charge of the cake, Jake is in charge of dinner, explaining he was going to try to make a traditional Egyptian dish. As he was already at the supermarket to pick up some groceries, he told you that he would pick you up since he would pass by your place on the way back.

Different ingredients scatter the counter between the two of you as you organize your supplies. While you have your powdered sugar and tray on one side, Jake has his supplies and containers on the other, including a tupperware of cooked elbow macaroni, tomato sauce, and a bag of store-bought fried onions.

Jake stands at the stove with his back turned to you. Even on a casual Thursday night, he is dressed in his usual white button-down dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing his warm tan skin. The only difference between his house clothes and outside clothes was the lack of his flat cap and tie, and his dress pants swapped with jeans and a plain apron to cover himself.

Curiously, you stand beside him and watch as he stirs the lentils and rice together in a pot. The smell of coriander and pepper welcomes you, and your tummy grumbles at the smell and sight.

“What are you making?”

“Koshari, I remember Taweret mentioning how much she misses eating it from back home. I watched a few tutorials and researched the recipe, and I hope I got it down,” he answers with a small smile.

Then, he leans over to the side and pulls out a spoon from the drawer to hand to you.

“Give it a try and let me know how it is, or if I’m missing anything. Once this is done, I just need to combine everything together.”

You grin as you dip the spoon into the pot. The tangy and spicy flavor fills your mouth in heat, but not too much that it would burn your tongue. It was enough spice to give the kick it needed.

“It’s a little spicy, but not too spicy. It’s delicious,” you tell him with an encouraging smile. “I’ve always been curious to try your cooking. Steven says you’re the best cook between the three of you.”

He pauses slightly as he turns to you. His face is slightly flushed, his brown eyes wide in surprise at your words. “He said that?”

You smile with a nod of your head. “He did. When I visited him at the Smithsonian last week for lunch, he told me you made vegan shakshuka for him and he loved it. He said it was better than the shakshuka he normally makes.”

You remember sitting on the steps outside of the museum last week when you stopped by to see him during his lunch break. It was a beautiful autumn day where the museum was not too busy on a Tuesday afternoon, and his boss was kind enough to give him an extended break after doing several grade school tours that week.

“I experimented and made some bagels last night, and I made a couple vegan ones for you,” you told him as you unwrapped the bagels on your lap. Your best friend smiled and thanked you as you handed it over to him. “I hope you like it, it’s my first time making bagels.”

“I know it’ll be great. Jake made a batch of vegan shakshuka for me and I think this would be a good match.” Steven opened his lunch and dipped the bread in his tupperware, even offering you a piece as you followed his instructions to dip your piece into the stew. “I don’t know how he did it, but he mastered it. I’ve been trying to make a decent version for months, and his version tastes better than all of my previous attempts. He’s the best cook out of all of us.”

As you look over at Jake, you are stunned to see his surprise. While you met Steven first and became friends with Marc second, it seemed that there were more layers to Jake than you realize. You knew that he was a private person who kept to himself, and you once believed he was an aloof individual who often kept people at arm’s length in the backseat of his car to keep his privacy. In the past, you only conversed with him from time to time, but over the past few months, you see that he is more sentimental than he appears to be.

A knowing smile kisses your lips as he tries to hide his smile from you. You give him the privacy to cherish the moment as you turn back to the oven to watch the cake slowly rise.

“Can I say something?” You ask.

He hums slightly and nods as he turns off the stove.

Wanting to help him, you reach for the bowl of chickpeas and heat them in the microwave. “You remind me of a tiramisu.”

He pauses for a moment with a soft chuckle, amused. “A tiramisu?”

You nod with a small smile. “Yes, a tiramisu. Before I got to know you, I used to think you were a bit detached with how private you are. I didn’t know much about you except from what Steven and Marc told me, and we only met a few times before I left for Singapore.”

At the beep of the microwave, Jake hands you the oven mitts to take the chickpeas out. You move closer to him as the two of you prepare to mix the lentils, rice, tomato sauce, pasta, and chickpeas together.

“What changed your mind?” He asks quietly.

You think about his words as you plate the rice and lentils. “Spending time with you,” you answer. “The more time I spend with you, whether it’s you taking me to the bodega or the Asian supermarket, or even moments like these, you’ve shown me there’s more to you than people think. You’re private, but you’re also very kind.”

Jake steps closer to you to place the pasta and chickpeas on top. You could not read his expression. Did he find you weird and strange? Was he upset or offended?

As you move to hand him the tomato sauce, his hands reach for yours, helping you and quietly telling you to be careful since the bowl was still warm from when he cooked it earlier.

His brown eyes flicker with amusement and curiosity as he glances up at you.

“I still do not see how this pertains to me reminding you of tiramisu, conejita.”

You laugh softly as you look down at the koshari on the plate.

“Tiramisu is like this dish,” you explain as he mixes everything together. “You may look a bit off-putting at first with how reserved and quiet you are, but that’s not a bad thing. The closer you look, there are different layers. They seem strange when they are all separated, but once you dig through the layers, you are very sweet like a tiramisu.”

Your eyes glance over at him, and you notice how his movements seem to slow as he waits for your next words.

“You made Steven shakshuka and you cooked Taweret’s favorite dish to surprise her for her birthday so she won’t be alone. You take care of people in a quiet way,” your voice grows softer as you speak, your heart aching slightly at the memories. “Twice, you found me crying and alone, and you were the one to bring me back home.”

His gaze softens as he looks at you, and for a moment, you are brought back to that summer evening when Marc left you at the night market. You still remembered the heartbroken look on his face, the pain in his eyes, and the fear in his voice when he left. He was in so much pain, and even with your heart breaking in front of him, you wished you could take his pain away from him.

Since that night, Marc left you a voicemail with his apology and wished to meet with you again, and as much as it hurt you, you kept your distance. It pained you how quick you were able to think of another reason why you could not see him. Perhaps with each text, you could finally cut those heartstrings, be a big girl, and move on.

Yet, the ache remained. It splintered deep inside of you like a tree taking deep roots in your chest, leaving a scar that you feared would never heal.

“How is he doing, by the way?” You ask quietly as your lips begin to quiver. “Is he alright?”

He does not say anything for a moment as his gaze washes over you, and you wonder if he knew about your feelings for Marc. If he did, he never showed it.

His voice is gentle as he speaks, his eyes soft.

“Marc is doing just fine,” he answers. “Steven and I are looking after him.”

You want to believe him, but a part of you hesitates. While you did not know the relationship between the three men, you did know one thing. Marc was perceptive, and he would worry. The last thing you wanted him to think was that he hurt you— you knew he would never forgive himself if he believed it.

To your surprise, Jake leans forward and moves closer to you, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. You blink in surprise and take a step back at his sudden movement.

“You have flour on your face,” he whispers. “Hold on.”

Suddenly, you feel the world stop around you as his hand softly caresses your face. You hold still, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as his thumb brushes the flour off your cheek. His touch is gentle and light, and he holds you as if you are a delicate thing. This was the first time Jake touched you like this and for a reason you could not explain, it was electrifying. It is as if he lit a flame and you are melting like candle wax under his touch.

Your head is still spinning when he pulls away. Your throat constricts as he looks at you, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

You do not know what has come over you. As his gaze meets yours, the two of you are quiet with the only sound of your flustered breath filling the silence. While he shared the same face as Marc and Steven, it is the first time you see him up close.

His eyes are just as brown, but there is a different softness to them in the kitchen light. A certain warmth fills his gaze—although intense—there is a sense of safety and familiarity as the corners of his eyes crinkle into a whisper of a comforting smile. A dark stray curl rests on his forehead, and if you look close enough, you catch slivers of starlight dusting at his temples.

You always believed Jake to be a handsome man, and in the past couple of months that you have gotten to know him, you see him differently. He is the kind of handsome that you read in your romance novels, the quiet gentleman who was always by the heroine’s side, and in that moment, you understand why people have always gravitated towards him.

You have looked at him many times before, but your heart begins to ache in your chest. He wiped away your tears before and has comforted you in your most heartbroken and vulnerable moments, so why would brushing flour away cause you to feel like you are sixteen again?

The sound of the timer interrupts your thoughts. You gasp softly and quickly turn away to grab the oven mitts, welcoming the distraction from your heated cheeks and your beating heart.

As you pull the cake out of the oven, you hear Jake pull away from you and the sound of a utensil scraping against the bottom of the pan. You set the cake onto the counter and are grateful for this moment—you are not sure if you had the courage to look at him yet.

With a deep breath, you glance down at the cake. The cake baked into a beautiful summer yellow with the edges a golden brown. It was perfect and exactly how you envisioned it.

His voice breaks your thoughts, and it takes everything in you to not look at him.

“What kind of cake did you make?”

“Lemon ricotta,” you answer softly. Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for the strainer and powdered sugar from across the counter. You feel his eyes on you, and as much as you try to hide it, you still feel nervous in front of him. “I made a lemon ricotta cake once a few months ago and Taweret said she loved it, so I wanted to make it for her again.”

Taking a deep breath, you ignore the way your hands tremble and begin to sift the flour and powder the cake with a light dusting of sugar for decoration. The two of you quietly work on completing your dishes with only the sound of a soft ballad playing from his vinyl record player in the living room.

Once you are finished, you set your tools aside and look down at the cake. Lemon ricotta was not your specialty as you only baked it a couple times, and you worried about how it looked. Would she even like the cake with how simple and plain it looked?

“I want it to be perfect for her,” you whisper softly. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

His footsteps echo behind you. As he stands beside you, your head begins to spin. The warmth of his body radiates off him, and even as he stands a few inches beside you, the heat of his touch lingers on your skin.

“That woman loves everything about you and adores you,” Jake assures you. “She’ll love it. I know she will.”

Warmth kisses your cheeks at his encouraging words. You never doubted your skills as a pastry chef, but hearing such praise from Jake strikes a chord in you. There were no words to describe your feelings at the moment. A foreign feeling tugged at your heart, reminiscent of butterflies that once fluttered in your tummy.

“Go ahead and set the table,” he instructs as he gathers your supplies. “I’ll clean up. I already texted Taweret and she’ll be here in a few minutes.”

He smiles encouragingly at you, and you move to set the table. As you arrange the plates and utensils, you spare another look at Jake and watch him set the pots and pans in the dishwasher. You have spent countless days and afternoons in the kitchen with Steven and Marc in the past, but this is your first time to be in the kitchen with Jake.

A few months ago when you returned from Singapore, you never would have thought that you would be baking by his side in the kitchen where you shared so many memories with his brothers. It was strange since you were not used to seeing Jake in such a domestic way, but it brings an odd comfort and warmth to you as he whistles in the kitchen.

You smile to yourself as you look down at the golden cake sitting at the edge of the table. In the past, you baked mochi for your family, lemon ricotta cake for Taweret, blueberry cake for Steven, and rocky road for Marc. There were so many layers to who he is, and you hope one day, you could bake Jake a sweet tiramisu.

The moon was high in the sky by the time Jake opened the passenger door for you to take you home. Not a single cloud was in sight, and the stars twinkled like pearls of light above you.

It truly was a beautiful evening. When Taweret arrived, her face lit up like the rising dawn. Without a second thought, she pulled you and Jake into her embrace. Your eyes began to mist when you felt a few drops of her tears fall onto your blouse, but you smiled warmly at her as Jake kissed her forehead and told her how much he loved her. You have only known Taweret for a short amount of time, but you were already fond of her and looked up to her as a mother figure.

Smiles, laughter, and memories were shared over dinner. As the three of you finished his koshari, Taweret spoke about her favorite childhood memories. You listened intently as she recalled not only her childhood, but her “wild youth” from running around with her girlfriends in Cairo and arguing with the university boys and rival sorority sisters. The three of you laughed until your ribs ached, your cheeks sore from smiling, and your tummy full from the warmth and love poured into the food that was shared.

And to your surprise, Taweret loved the lemon ricotta birthday cake. She patted your cheek affectionately as you served her the first slice with a gentle and warm smile on her face.

“Thank you, darling,” she beamed, “you always make the sweetest cakes.”

As you are about to thank her, Jake leaned in beside her, a knowing smile and wink as he sung the highest praises for you.

“She baked everything with love,” he told her, and your cheeks instantly heated at his kind words. “That’s her secret ingredient.”

Jake only smiled at you as you looked down at the yellow cake on your plate, hoping to find some solace on the finely dusted sugar sitting on top of your masterpiece. You barely heard them speak over the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears and the warmth kissing at your soft cheeks. This was not the first time Jake complimented your strengths, so why are you suddenly shy and bashful like a schoolgirl?

You vaguely recalled the last time you felt like this. Before you left for Singapore, you remembered sitting at a picnic bench with Marc as his way of bidding you bon voyage. He carried the picnic basket over to the bench and helped you arrange the pieces on the table.

“Since I’m also helping out with their social media and marketing, I might as well start practicing how to take the best pictures and videos for advertising,” you remarked as you finished taking pictures of the set-up. You had a blanket draped over the table with minimal cutlery and accessories. “Don’t you think?”

Marc chuckled beside you as you put your phone in your bag. You would edit the photos when you get home and send them to your cousin later for her to critique. “I thought your generation was tech savvy and grew up on the internet?”

“I’m on the cusp and was fortunate that the internet was still starting out. It wasn’t as crazy as it is now. Besides, I don’t have many social media handles for a reason,” you answered, “I don’t want people from high school finding me.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Why not?”

“I closed that chapter in my life. When I go to my high school reunion years from now, I want everyone to be surprised to see how much I’ve matured and grown up,” you sighed wistfully, imagining a romantic moment in your future reunion. “If they have any difficulty in recognizing their classmate, then I shall be the most sophisticated woman in the high school gymnasium.”

Your high school days were not the worst, but they were not the greatest, either. Your teenage days were not that far behind you, but you still had so much to look forward to in the years to come.

An amused smile shined on your friend’s face as he leaned forward and patted a piece of your hair.

“You are already a beautiful, intelligent, and sophisticated young woman,” he complimented you with a playful tap on your nose. “You will be the belle of the ball.”

But the days and nights you spent with Marc were long gone. Deep down, you grieved the chapter of your life where you were by his side. You convinced yourself into thinking the two of you were fated to be together for the rest of your lives, but life had its own way of cutting that invisible string you deluded yourself was tied between your fingers. The dried daffodils in your wastebasket was the evidence to the end of your fantasies.

Yet, the universe had a strange way of bringing things full circle. As you bury the thoughts of Marc aside, a sense of déjà vu washes over you with your heart feeling as hopeful as that night when Jake first found you on the steps outside of his apartment. It was odd to think that in the two years you spent away from home, Jake rarely passed your mind.

Now, your thoughts gravitated towards him. The ghost of his touch lingered from when he brushed away the flour on your cheek, and his praise echoed in your ears like a distant lullaby. It was as if your heart would burst from your chest with each moment you replayed in your mind and you wondered if you could trust yourself to open up again.

Before you could entertain that thought, the sound of his voice breaks the silence.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” Jake glances over at you with a small smile, one gloved hand on the steering wheel, the other adjusting the rear view mirror. “I know it was a short notice.”

You smile reassuringly at him from the passenger side. “It was no problem, thank you for inviting me. I’m happy that we were able to celebrate her special day.”

You do not see Taweret often, but after tonight, you promise yourself that you would reach out to her more. She was such a character, and you make a note to give her extra delicacies you create in the future, especially if it involves lemon ricotta.

Jake grins at you as he stops at the stoplight, his voice light and airy.

“She adores you and talks about you like you hung the moon.” He spares you a glance with a gentle smile. “And she loved every bit of your cake.”

“Oh—” your cheeks grow warm at his words. The thought of Taweret talking about you so sweetly made your heart swell, especially when you were so worried that her birthday cake was plain.

He chuckles softly. “If it’s okay to ask, when did you start baking?”

You think for a moment as the two of you watch a few college students cross the street. “I’ve always had a sweet tooth, but growing up, I did not like American candy as much. It was always too sweet, and sometimes I felt like throwing up when I had cake. Nothing tasted like the snacks and sweets I would get from the Asian supermarket.”

You smile fondly as you remember your childhood. Growing up, there was not an Asian supermarket near your neighborhood. Most weekends, you dragged behind your parents as they bought their groceries at big retailers, and the only times you grew excited were when they either brought you to the local bodegas so you could pet the owner’s guard dogs (who were surprisingly gentle with children), or the Asian markets that were out of town. It was only until high school when they established one a few blocks away and within walking distance, and you were finally able to grab your favorite Meiji snacks.

“I often had too much time on my hands during the summer breaks, so I experimented in the kitchen. My mom never liked baking, but I saved up to buy some supplies, watched tutorials on YouTube, and even chatted with my cousin for ideas,” you laugh lightly. “It started when I was in middle school when we had a bake sale for fundraising, and I fell in love with it since.”

The light turns green, and Jake nods as he follows along.

“What would you say is your favorite to bake? Or, what would you say is your specialty?”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his question. It is not often someone asks about your favorites, let alone your specialty. You are so used to taking requests and baking for others based on their favorites, but rarely did someone ask about yours.

“Strawberry cake,” you answer, thinking about the colorful pink hue of the cakes you made in the past. “Especially with buttercream.”

“Like strawberry shortcake?”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s easy to confuse the two based on their names, but strawberry shortcake is different since that’s shortbread with strawberries on top. Strawberry cake—”

“I know,” he laughs with a slight shake of his head. “I meant the character.”

Oh. Oh!

Heat envelopes your face at the thought. You adored Strawberry Shortcake as a little girl and collected the books, plushies, stickers, almost anything with your favorite freckled heroine. Even though she is in the arms of another child, you remember your Strawberry Shortcake doll that you used to carry with you everywhere with her apron smelling just like freshly cut strawberries.

When you did not respond, Jake immediately tried to correct himself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you—”

“No, not at all,” you laugh. “She was one of my favorites as a child. Being compared to her makes me happy, so thank you.”

From the corner of your eye, you notice him smile in relief. You look down at the plastic bag full of tupperwares on your lap. As you cleaned the dinner table, you did not realize that Jake prepared extra koshari for you to take home to your family in extra tupperwares.

“And thank you for the food, too. I’ll have this for lunch tomorrow.”

He smiles at you, his voice soft. “You’re welcome.”

Life had a strange way of bringing things full circle. Filled with warmth, a sense of déjà vu washes over you with your heart feeling as light as that night when he first found you on the steps outside of his apartment. Not once, but twice he found you heartbroken, but since you returned to New York, your nights were spent with him where you would watch him from the passenger side. The wall that separated you two had begun to crumble, revealing the man dressed in white knight armor.

The fluttering of your heart confuses you when he parks in the driveway. Your pulse echoes in your ears as he opens your door with a gloved hand outstretched towards you, and your legs begin to shake with each step you take towards your front door. Why does the warmth of his glove burn your skin? Why does he suddenly make you skittish like a frightened deer?

It must be because he touched my face, you reason with yourself when you step inside. Your parents greet him with friendly smiles, and for unknown reasons, you feel a tug on your heartstrings when he lifts his hat at you.

As he walks away, you are left standing in the kitchen with a cold tupperware of koshari in your hands. Your parents kiss your cheek before walking up the stairs, and with each kiss, you imagine what it would feel like if Jake’s lips kissed your cheeks goodnight.

The early afternoon sunlight streams through your curtains when you wake that morning. Downstairs, you hear your father playing his favorite old songs on his speaker, the foreign language bringing you comfort and a sense of nostalgia. It was finally the weekend.

With a yawn, you force yourself out of bed and walk down the stairs. The love ballads grow louder, and you find your mother seated at the kitchen table with breakfast leftovers covered with a napkin.

“Good morning, baby,” she greets you as you smile sleepily at her. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod and rub your eyes while taking a seat in front of her. Last night, you spent a few hours on Messenger talking to your cousin about the newest addition they added to the Mochi Flower Bakery and Cafe. While the Mochi Flower was best known for matcha mochi cake, your cousin wanted to expand the menu to keep up with their local competitors. She shared with you the different designs that were shared with the class that included floral prints and a few beloved childhood characters like Hello Kitty. A couple months ago, she took a class from a masterclass baker on how to add such delicate designs to a sponge cake, and she’s been in love with it ever since.

Before you realized it, you were on Messenger for almost three hours. It was nearly three in the morning when you ended the call, your mind reeling from the designs she showed you. Both of your families considered opening a sister bakery in New York, and with each call you had with her over the spotty internet, the idea no longer felt like a dream, but a possibility.

“I did,” you answer, looking at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. You did not realize it was past noon. “I haven’t slept in like this since my last semester of college.”

Your mother laughs, and you laugh along with her. The twelve hour time difference was tough, and you were honestly surprised her internet lasted that long with minimal interruptions.

At that moment, your father walks in and greets you good morning with a soft kiss to the top of your head as he places a bowl of cut strawberries in front of you.

Your eyes widen slightly at the vibrant hue. “Papa, did you go to the grocery store this morning? When did we have strawberries?”

Your father shakes his head. “I didn’t buy them. Your driver friend dropped them off this morning.”

Driver friend? You wonder, knowing your father often forgets the names of your friends. Did he mean Jake? You have not talked to him in a couple weeks, not since Taweret’s birthday.

“The gentleman with the hat,” your mother clarifies. “He came by this morning and dropped off a box of strawberries that he got at the farmer’s market. He said it was for you.”

Your heart skips a beat as she hands you a yellow post-it note. Across the page, you memorize the straight lines of Jake’s handwriting, softly tilted in black ink.

For your strawberry cake - J

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you so much for your support! The idea of Conejita and White Knight!Jake has been floating around in my head for about a year, and with time, they finally came to fruition. Special thanks to @soft-girl-musings for listening to my ideas and late night texts on Discord. My laptop has been out of commission as of late, so I was unfortunately unable to post this sooner, but it's finally here!

To be honest, this series started when I was quarantined with COVID (part 1 was written when I had it the first time, part 2 the second time I had COVID, go figure lol). It makes me so happy to see that you have grown fond of conejita as well. I am a slow writer, and I want to thank everyone of you for your patience and support.

Originally it was going to be a trilogy, but since I am notorious for writing long fics, this series will most likely be four parts instead! I have a couple more characters I want to introduce. If you want to continue being on the taglist, please let me know. Stay tuned for updates and any future fics! I have a few more I want to put out this summer 🤍

Love, Celeste

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hezzabeth · 1 year ago

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The description of the space station is based on my own experiences during a ten hour layover in Singapore.

"Are you alright? Do you have a bout of telesickness?" Brigadeiro Bun asked as Revati stared off into space.

"Telewhat?" Revati asked, her brain snapping back into place.

When Amma and Nanni heard that Revati was about to go off-world, they tried to prepare her.

"It's not like your other wasteland adventures where you wandered into a city on foot! You'll need to buy tickets; then apply for a tourism visa," Amma explained.

"My what?" Revati asked, completely confused.

"The actual teleporting takes less than a second, but you will have to spend at least an hour in customs and immigration and four hours in the teleport waiting your turn," Nanni added.

It was all incredibly exhausting and confusing.

The teleport hub they were waiting in was deliberately designed to make people forget they were waiting. Bright, expensive shops with intricate displays created pathways to different teleportation gates. Massive, giant flowering bushes surrounded by clouds of butterflies brushed against the glass ceiling. In the center of everything, there was a crystal pond. Robotic bronze mermaids swam up and down underneath the lily pads.

"Telesickness! It's okay, a lot of people not used to teleporting end up with upset stomachs," Brigadeiro reassured her, handing her something small and pink from his shirt pocket.

"This should help, their stomach stabilizers! I bought them in the bathroom," Brigadeiro smiled helpfully, and Revati took one, popping it into her mouth before promptly spitting it out.

"It tastes like gasoline," Revati grimaced.

"You're not supposed to eat it! You rub it on your temples," Brigadeiro explained gently before picking the stomach stabilizer up off her lap.

"Please don't rub that all over my temples; it has my spit on it," Revati pointed out, shutting her eyes.

"Are you sure you're not sick?" Brigadeiro asked.

"I'm just exhausted; we've teleported so many times I have no idea where we are," Revati sighed, closing her gritty eyes.

"We're at the Anh Do memorial teleport hub; he was a figure from southwest Sydney legends! When he was a baby, he was on a boat attacked by pirates. Then he grew up to become a famous children's writer and artist," Brigadeiro rattled on.

Revati felt herself slump to one side with exhaustion, her head landing on something soft.

Brigadeiro's home wasn't even technically a planet. Rather, it was a series of six space stations, each representing different areas of a land once known as "Australia." The Southwest Sydney Station was so big it had its own weather patterns, ecosystem, and geography. Most of it consisted of expensive tourist resorts, beachside towns, and theme parks. Brigadeiro had explained many times before that his family was part of the 15 million-strong workforce that lived in the secret employee-only towns and cities. Someone, hopefully Brigadeiro, was gently massaging her scalp, and Revati felt herself fall into a drowsy, dark state.

Revati wasn't sure how long she had been snoozing when the screaming sirens suddenly filled the air. Revati's self-preservation instincts kicked in, and her eyes snapped open. Within seconds, she was back on her feet, reaching for her mace.

"You had to leave the weapon at security back on Mars," Brigadeiro reminded her as hundreds of people suddenly started flowing out of the teleport gates. The air was thick with sirens and flashing blue lights as the crowd swelled around her. Brigadeiro snatched her hand, and together they were swept forward in the tidal wave of chaos.

People were everywhere, their faces blurred by the rapidity of the moment, their shouts and cries a blurry nonsense of at least a dozen different languages. In a second of terror, Revati found herself thrown down. Feet pounded on her back as she curled herself up into a ball. There was a sudden break in people, and Revati saw a glimpse of the mermaid pool. Revati forced herself forward and grabbed the pool's safety fence, hauling herself over the edge. She landed with a splash into the shallow water. For a few moments, all Revati could hear was the pounding of the mob and sirens.

All Revati could feel was her body as the robot mermaids bumped into her before swimming away. The glass ceiling above had clouded over, turning an eerie white. There was a sudden buzzing on Revati's wrist, indicating her bangle had an incoming call. It was the android. Of course, it was.

"Ignore," Revati groaned, sitting up, and a tiny mermaid bounced off her cleavage. Somehow, half her shirt had managed to get ripped off. The crowd wasn't as thick, but people were still charging past the shops heading to some unknown destination. The sirens suddenly stopped.

"All interstellar teleport gates have been switched off temporarily! We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience caused," a lady's voice chimed over the speakers. People slowly stopped running and instead began to shuffle around.

Tiny first aid drones began to zoom out of the shops, attending to the fallen. Through it all, Revati scanned and searched. Spotting Brigadeiro was far harder than usual since many people in the hub had pink, curly hair. Finally, she saw him across the crowd in the doorway of a chocolate shop. A woman was lying at his feet. Revati slowly stood, her legs wobbling, before climbing out of the pond. By the time she managed to push her way through to the storefront, she had heard several whispers. There had been an attack on another Space Station known as “Cairnes”. The crowd consisted of tourists and travelers who fled when an employee opened up a teleportation gate during the attack. Brigadeiro was attending to the woman who was bleeding all over the shop floor from a gash on her temples.

"Oh, thank Goup!" Brigadeiro cried, wrapping Revati in a smothering hug. Brigadeiro was, of course, a little shorter than her, and he nuzzled his face into her shoulder, sobbing.

"It's alright, I'm fine," Revati assured him, petting his back, and Brigadeiro sobbed.

"It's not that; Cairnes has been destroyed! Millions are dead," Brigadeiro's voice choked.

"Destroyed?" Revati gasped. The bleeding lady on the ground twitched, and Revati let go of Brigadeiro in order to check her. The lady was a bit older than Revati, probably in her late twenties. She had the pale, sickly skin and brighter blue hair of those who came from the northern parts of Mars. Her haircut, however, was similar to the trendy “mushroom cap” style she had seen on the space station – short with a blunt fringe. Revati reached into one of her pants pockets, pulling out a trusty medibandage, and stuck it onto the woman’s temple. Even while unconscious, she had the expression of someone fully capable of starting a riot in a coffee shop. It clashed violently with her bright purple tropical print shirt and neon pink watch. The watch. Revati grabbed the unconscious lady's hand to examine the watch.

"SOS Emergency Medical Information," she said to the watch. Its screen flickered, and a tiny 3D hologram of the lady appeared.

"My name is Pauletta Chuchotor, I am twenty-nine years old! My blood type is B- and I'm allergic to Venusian swamp gas," the hologram said cheerfully, and suddenly the hologram switched off as tight fingers wrapped themselves around Revati's wrist.

Revati glanced at the lady who was now staring at her with bloodshot green eyes.

"My personal information isn't for you," she said in a deep, raspy voice.

"Good to know," Revati said. Pauletta Chuchotor was staring at her curiously.

"I don't forget faces easily," she said, her fingernails still digging into Revati's wrist.

"Ok," Revati replied uneasily, wondering if the lady had a brain injury.

"You look a little like someone I met a long time ago," Pauletta said, as if accusing Revati of something terrible.

"I got a message from Dad; the news says all the teleporting hubs have been shut down! He says we should leave the hub and take the workers' bullet train back to Paprika Station before they stop running," Brigadeiro said, gesturing to his grey bracelet.

"A bullet train? Like the one in Olde Landon? I thought this space station was supposed to be super advanced?" Revati asked, completely confused.

"It is, but teleportation has a weight limit of six hundred kilograms; the trains are used when we need to transport bulk goods and supplies to different resorts," Brigadeiro explained.

"I also need to go to this Paprika Station; I will follow you," Pauletta Chuchotor remarked, and Revati exchanged a look with Brigadeiro.

"I mean, it's not like we can stop her," Brigadeiro pointed out.

The train ride to Paprika Station turned out to be far more exhausting, bewildering, and strangely smelly than teleporting. Everyone seemed to know Brigadeiro Bun, and by extension, everyone seemed to know Revati.

"Bridgadeiro! Your mama said you would be back for Applefestus! And is this the famous Revati from Mars?" An old lady with orange hair said to them as they waited for the train.

"I may have mentioned you in my messages home; this is my mother's friend Mrs. Jambalaya from church," Brigadeiro said as the old lady descended onto Revati in a cloud of vanilla perfume.

"Oh, she's so pretty! Such big amber eyes! And who's that?" She asked, nodding at Pauletta, who was standing several feet away from them, staring into the distance.

"No idea, we think she's an injured tourist," Brigadeiro admitted as Revati quietly blushed. No one in Olde Landon had ever called her pretty.

"Bridge! Did you hear about the terrorist attack? My dad said appliances from Mars did it," someone yelled when they finally got onto the cramped train. A teenage boy with dark skin and fuchsia braids was waving at them from a row of seats.

"We were at the capital telehub when it happened! Revati, this is my cousin Pecan," Brigadeiro explained as they sat down.

Pecan gasped with horror. "Oh, Goup! You're the girl Bridge is bringing home for Applefestus! You probably don't want us talking about the war," Pecan remarked.

"It's fine; I'm too tired and freaked out to care," Revati assured him.

"Why don't you take a nap? The ride to Paprika Station takes around four hours," Brigadeiro said, tapping his shoulder. Revati sighed gratefully, her head dropping onto his shoulder. Before her eyes shut, she spotted Pauletta standing on the other side of the carriage, staring at her with dried blood still in her hair.

#lifewithlola #nanowrimo2023 #nanowrimo #science fiction #speculative worldbuilding #speculative fiction #saying farewell to armageddon #ya scifi #ya fiction #ya dystopia #writing science fiction

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eghcrimpybenispalls · 7 months ago

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Hihihiiiii!!

Rant to me about any collections you have, I love listening (in this case reading) to people talk about this stuff ⭐⭐

omg i didn't really expect anyone to see that post but!! YES!!

okay, so i collect spoons and the tops of hot and cold taps (but i lost like 3/4 of my hot/cold tap collection due to my poor management skills)

BUT! i have 14 spoons in my collection currently! you know the spoons that you can get at gift shops? they're like those, although i didn't get any from gift shops, i got quite a few from my great grandma when she died and i hand picked a few nice ones from the op shop near me.

so here they are!

my favourites are these 5 though:

theyre my favs bc

its from the place i was born (not from i was just born there) and its so pretty. it has a picture of a merlion, a mythical creature and practically the emblem of singapore

this spoons from japan and has a detailed handle of a woman standing behind a shamisen (a traditional japanese instrument) holding a fan. also the spoon bit is made to look like either a big fan or the underneath of an umbrella

you cant really tell in the photo but the top of the handle is super detailed, its from hawaii. hopefully tumblr wont kill the quality on the picture.

its dip in the spoon is filled by a drawing of the sturt desert rose, a flower that grows on a shrub in the desert in NT, and is also the floral emblem for the Northern Territory

its from canada and has a moose :p

ive only been to 1 of these places but oh well.

also special shout out to this spoon bc i think the deatails in dip bit is pretty neat.

i also collect tops of hot and cold taps but i lost a lot of them so here is my remaining collection

i take them off the taps in bathrooms, WHICH SOUNDS BAD but its chill bc i only take either hot or cold so you can still tell which is which

#thanks for listening!!

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eteranal-flowers · 5 months ago

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The Beauty of Preserved Flower Bouquets: Timeless Gifts for Every Occasion

In the realm of thoughtful and lasting gifts, preserved flower bouquets stand out as a perfect blend of natural beauty and enduring charm. Unlike fresh flowers that wilt within days, preserved flowers retain their vibrant appearance and delicate texture for months or even years. Here’s why preserved flower bouquets are the ideal choice for anyone looking to give a meaningful and lasting gift.

What Are Preserved Flowers?

Preserved flowers are real flowers that have undergone a special preservation process to maintain their fresh look and feel over time. This process involves replacing the natural sap with a special solution, which helps the flowers retain their flexibility and color. The result is a bouquet that looks and feels just like fresh flowers but lasts significantly longer.

The Appeal of Preserved Flower Bouquets

Longevity

One of the most significant advantages of preserved flower bouquets is their longevity. Unlike fresh flowers that require regular watering and care, preserved flowers are low maintenance and can last for years with minimal upkeep. This makes them a practical choice for those who want to enjoy the beauty of flowers without the hassle.

Versatility

Preserved flower bouquets are incredibly versatile and can be used for various occasions. Whether it's a birthday, anniversary, wedding, or any special celebration, a preserved flower bouquet can convey your sentiments beautifully. They are also an excellent choice for home decor, adding a touch of elegance and natural beauty to any space.

Eco-Friendly

Preserved flowers are an eco-friendly alternative to fresh flowers. Since they last much longer, they reduce the need for frequent replacements and the associated environmental impact. Additionally, the preservation process typically involves fewer chemicals than the treatments used to keep fresh flowers looking fresh during shipping and display.

Unique Designs

Preserved flower bouquets often feature unique designs that are not possible with fresh flowers. The preservation process allows florists to work with flowers in their prime, creating stunning arrangements that showcase the full beauty of each bloom. These bouquets can include a mix of flowers and foliage, creating a visually striking and memorable gift.

Where to Find Preserved Flower Bouquets

In Singapore, there are numerous florists and specialty shops that offer a wide range of preserved flower bouquets. One notable brand is Eternal Flowers, which specializes in crafting exquisite preserved flower arrangements. Their bouquets are perfect for anyone looking to give a gift that is both beautiful and long-lasting.

Caring for Preserved Flowers

Caring for preserved flowers is straightforward. Keep them out of direct sunlight and away from humidity to prevent fading and damage. Dust them occasionally with a soft brush to maintain their pristine appearance. With proper care, your preserved flower bouquet can remain a cherished keepsake for years.

Conclusion

Preserved flower bouquets offer a timeless and elegant solution for those seeking a unique and lasting gift. Their longevity, versatility, eco-friendliness, and unique designs make them a perfect choice for any occasion. Whether you're looking to surprise a loved one or enhance your home decor, preserved flowers are sure to make a lasting impression. Explore the beautiful arrangements from Eternal Flowers and discover the perfect bouquet to convey your heartfelt sentiments.

#preserved flower bouquet

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phanfictioncatalogue · 6 months ago

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Photographer (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

A Model Relationship. (ao3) - JenCollins

Summary: Model!Dan and Photographer!Phil. After yet another session Phil have a serious question to ask Dan.

Advent Calendar 2020 (ao3) - Phantje

Summary: Dan is a single father to his son Mes. When Mes does not go to Dan's best friend Meggie's nursery, he tags along to Dan's photography studio. With Mes, the studio, and his film-review-blog, Dan is certainly busy, and yet finds time to be a little lonely - he is skilled like that. Dan's life seems to suddenly start spinning when he rescues a client from a malicious photo booth.

Phil is the co-founder of the IRL store, but wants to start working to meet new people and to fill his days. That has nothing to do whatsoever with him pining after the mysterious blogger, and he isn't even really all that lonely, actually.

Phil starts working at a nursery, makes a new friend, and gets more than he bargained for in falling in love with the photographer.

Aesthetics - flowers-and-colored-hair

Summary: Funded by Phil's family money, Dam runs a pretentious aesthetic porn blog. One day, he gets an idea for a photoshoot, and he needs Phil's help to do it, or more specifically, Phil's mouth.

Black Velvet (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: Phil is a successful photographer who just landed a photo shoot with his muse: Rupaul’s Drag Race winner, Obsidian Rose. Will he be able to win a place in her heart as well?

desert all your past lives (ao3) - vinastories

Summary: the one where dan is a model, phil is a photographer, and they both seem to run away from their problems all too often.

Flashes of Innocence (ao3) - yiffandquiff

Summary: Phil Lester was an aspiring photographer, trying to fine tune his skills in a black and white photography class. Cue Daniel Howell, the attractive male that walks in one day and captures Phil’s eyes. But Dan has a small secret, he needs help. He runs a Tumblr blog and he needs someone to shoot his photos for him. But there’s a catch that Phil doesn’t know right away. Dan runs a NSFW porn blog and he’s asking Phil to help him recreate authentic photos.

I want to shine in your eyes (like the stars do) (ao3) - Antisocialbutterflie

Summary: Phil wants to try something new and Dan just might like it

Living is Easy with My Eyes Closed (ao3) - TheUKAmazingDan

Summary: September 19, 1976

Dan Howell liked pretty things and a pretty guy, but not the one who was interested in him. No, Dan was infatuated with someone he couldn't have.

oh you got me shaking (ao3) - chickenfree

Summary: Usually if the models talk to him, it’s just – them asking questions, Phil joking about how he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, even as he directs them.

They don’t try to argue with him, usually.

Pictures Of You (ao3) - CanDanAndPhilNot (enbycalhoun)

Summary: Punk Phil and (softish) Dan find out they are roommates after a couple stressful encounters.

Smile Even Though You're Sad (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: dan is the son of a rich man, unwillingly studying business in London who wanders into a gallery looking for some quiet, and instead finds the happy-go-lucky owner with a camera around his neck, the nicest smile he’s ever seen and a knack for knowing exactly what to say.

so damn pretty (ao3) - silentdescant

Summary: They’ve got a sort of partnership.

It mostly consists of Dan looking beautiful and Phil snapping photos while trying to keep his drool inside his mouth and therefore unnoticeable.

Sparkles (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan gets to take photos of the cute boy in the Pride Parade, who seems to be entirely made out of confetti and glitter and pretty blue eyes.

Take a Picture (It'll Last Longer) (ao3) - phantasticworks (steddieworks)

Summary. Dan and Phil meet at 2 a.m. in a coffee shop. Phil is a photographer looking for a model, and Dan can't say no to pretty boys.

the boy from singapore (ao3) - larry_hystereks

Summary: phil hasn't taken a decent picture in years, but after meeting dan, a struggling artist halfway across the world, he finds himself inspired and completely, utterly enamored.

The Cherry Blossom Secret (ao3) - BlueFox1319

Summary: A secret lies in this hideaway, for when an almost mad artist and a grief ridden photographer meet.

Their worlds could either wilt or bloom with unknowing enchantment.

Twenty-four hours away (ao3) - Miahxbee

Summary: Phil is on his way home to his girlfriend when he meets a stranger who seems to steal his heart.

We made these memories for ourselves (ao3) - jestbee

Summary: An epilogue for Forever Frozen Still

Work It, Baby (ao3) - alphapavlikovsky (orphan_account)

Summary: “Could you please do me a favour, Phil?” Dan asked, taking his eyes away from his phone for a moment to look at his best friend. “I was thinking of doing a photoshoot, would you mind being my photographer? I can pay..”.

“Sure Dan, I have time tomorrow if that’s good for you?” Phil replied, entering it into his work diary. He enjoyed having Dan as a model so he would love doing a photoshoot specifically where he could take photos of Dan without seeming weird.

Except maybe Phil should have asked what kind of photoshoot it would be. He was about to get a shock.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfic #phanfiction #masterlists #phan #au #photographer #photographer masterlist

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katelyn-scstudyabroad · 2 years ago

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Thailand Part I: Bangkok

Since my mom flew to the opposite side of the world to visit me in Vietnam, we also went to Thailand together to make her long flight even more worthwhile. Although we were only there for a week, we saw and did so much that I must break the trip up into multiple posts to cover everything!

Our first stop was Bangkok. When we flew in the first thing I noticed is how massive the city is! Looking out the airplane window I could see a huge expanse of skyscrapers and cityscape stretching out as far as the eye could see.

For our first night we booked a guided tuk tuk tour of the city. Thailand is famous for its tuk tuks, motorized rickshaws that are named for the sound their engines make when they start. A trip to Thailand is not complete without taking a tuk tuk at least once.

Our tour started with a night market to eat some Thai street food before going to Wat Arun, or Temple of the Dawn. The temple wasn’t fully open since it was night time but we could still get a good look around the grounds and see the beauty of the temple at night. After that we went to Pak Khlong Talat, the largest flower market in Bangkok, before eating dinner where we had our first Pad Thai in Thailand. The tuk tuk tour then drove us around past some more famous sites before ending the night in Chinatown. Our guide took us to the famous Yaowarat Road where there are ton of food stalls every night. We got mango sticky rice, another thing that a trip to Thailand is not complete without. Overall it was a great tour and a great introduction to Bangkok.

From our guide’s recommendation we got up early the next day to see two of Bangkok’s top sights: the Grand Palace and Wat Pho, which are conveniently located next to each other. The edifices at both were probably the most beautiful man-made things I have ever seen. I was in awe at the splendor and craftsmanship of everything.

Included in admission to the Grand Palace was admission to a showcase of Thai traditional dances at the Sala Chalermkrung Royal Theatre, so my mom and I went to that to experience some more Thai culture.

After the show we wanted to stay out of the heat (April is unfortunately the hottest month in Thailand), so we ventured over to Iconsiam, one of the largest shopping malls in all of Asia. I have been to some very nice malls in Vietnam and Singapore, but I can confidently say that Iconsiam is now the best mall I ever been to. You can buy just about anything there, with stores ranging from luxury brands like Chanel and Porsche to more modest brands and local vendors. There are also a ton of food options; the ground floor is home to a giant indoor market and there is a dining atrium with a miniature version of the fountain in the Singapore Changi Airport. Iconsiam is located right next to the riverfront and they have a free observation deck that offers great views of the city. We ended up spending hours exploring everything that the mall had to offer. The famous Van Gogh Alive was also on exhibit there. I had never been and tickets were half the price as what I saw advertised in the US so we decided to visit the exhibit, which ended up also being a great experience. It may seem a little silly to spend so much time in a mall, but Iconsiam really was so unique and luxurious.

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wellliveflorist · 7 days ago

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Surprise Your Loved One with Flower Delivery in Singapore on Valentine’s Day 2025

Valentine’s Day is the perfect chance to show your loved one how much they mean to you. This day is full of love, happiness, and surprises. What better way to express your feelings than with a bouquet of fresh flowers? Flowers speak a special language, and their beauty can say what words sometimes can't. In Singapore, it’s easy to surprise someone with a gorgeous bouquet. You can order flower delivery right to their door, whether you are close by or far away. With flowers, you’ll make this Valentine’s Day extra special. Plus, it’s easy to order flowers from a reliable flower shop in Singapore to your doorstep, and the flowers will reach them at just the right moment.

#Flower Shop Singapore #order flower delivery near me #Vday Flowers

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floristbeato · 10 months ago

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Condolence flowers Singapore

Send your heartfelt condolences with our thoughtfully crafted condolence flowers in Singapore. Express your sympathy and support during difficult times with elegantly designed arrangements. Shop now to convey your deepest condolences and provide comfort to your loved ones.

#Condolence flowers Singapore #Online flower shop singapore #Same day flower delivery Singapore

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buffetlicious · 1 year ago

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Organized annually by Takashimaya Shopping Centre (髙島屋) the Mid-Autumn Festive Celebration Mooncake Fair is the largest of its kind in Singapore. This year it is held from 24th August to 29th September 2023. As usual, it attracted throngs of people browsing, buying or just to sample the mooncakes.

Peony Jade Restaurant (玉河畔) has on display a whole showcase of mooncakes from traditional baked ones to deep fried Teochew flaky types and durian snowskin mooncakes. It also came in adorable animal shapes like rabbit and pig.

Swatow Seafood Restaurant (汕头海鲜) has a beautiful Flaky Teochew Custard Blossom Delight (潮州荷花酥) shaped like a blooming flower featuring luscious custard, “yuan-yang” paste (a delightful blend of red and black bean paste), and signature “orh-nee” yam paste. The Galaxy’s Eight Delights (八星伴月礼篮) featured a set of Mini Flaky Mooncakes adorned with colourful cosmos flaky skin.

Selected images courtesy of their respective brands.

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hezzabeth · 1 year ago

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It took Revati a while to realize she actually liked walking. The first few weeks on the road were filled with blisters, muscle cramps, and exhaustion. The next few weeks were filled with bewildering confusion, terrible weather, and moments where she wanted to beat the android into tiny pieces. But eventually, the blisters healed over. Her calf muscles grew strong. Eventually, she learned to deal with the weather and tune out the android's chatter. It was then that she began to notice things. The way smaller shack homes in villages slowly shifted into buildings. The way every town seemed to have at least one bronze statue of a long-ago-forgotten leader.

Most of all, she liked the way she could just stop sometimes. Stop and stare at the world her parents once saw. Everything was so much bigger than Olde Landon. The biggest town in Valles Marineris was really more of a small city clinging desperately to the canyon's rocky cliffs and ledges. When it first began, it didn't have a name; it was nothing more than a weather station. Now it was known as Athake thaka. In the double light of the two moons, the city was filled with light and shadow. Ancient buildings, with their intricately carved facades, seemed to merge seamlessly into the rugged landscape. Narrow, descending streets curved through the town, surrounded by carved townhouses.

There was one temple set right at the bottom of the canyon. "We don't have anything like this back home; most things are new," Bridgadeiro remarked, pointing down at the temple. It was the first time he had spoken during the entire walk. Towering spires and majestic domes reached up to them. "Amma said during her history lessons that the old desi billionaires teleported a lot of buildings here from Earth," Revati replied, staring at the temple.

When he was alive, her father would often sketch the temples he recalled. "These buildings are important; they are older than all of our known family history, older than every belief we know," Jay had once said. "I'm a woman of science, but even I have to admit that's true," conceded Amma.

They descended further into the night market. Shops and stalls covered by a rainbow of canopies were selling just about everything. Tables were laden with jars of dried spices, fabrics, and fresh flowers. Jars of tinned creatix sand sat on makeshift shelves next to old toys. There were no appliances. Instead, people were laughing as small children sat outside a stall seeking sweets.

One of the children was the little girl from the building; she stared briefly at Revati, pointing at her before giggling. "Making new friends?" Bridgadeiro asked curiously as the little girl vanished behind the stall. "Always, how long do we have before the next teleportation jump?" Revati asked. "One hour and twenty-six minutes, we'll jump from here to the New Singapore interstellar station! Then it's just one more jump to my space station and another two jumps home," Bridgadeiro smiled eagerly. "I remember the itinerary; you sent it three times," Revati pointed out, but her stomach still twinged with nerves. Revati had never actually teleported before. Most of the places she went to were appliance-occupied or neutral zones. The appliances firmly didn't approve of humans traveling without using their feet.

The little girl was back, but this time she was with a woman. A strange short woman with light green skin and masses of dark green hair. She was studying Revati; her lips in a thin line, a crown of night blooming jasmine on her head. Revati felt her stomach squirm; the last time she saw someone with green hair it was the Duke.

The woman swaggered toward her, deep ochre yellow rags dragging on the ground. In the market squares, the night's bustle had given way to a serene calm. People were staring at the woman, still moving and selling but in a hushed quiet way. The people were nervous. "You came after the princess," the woman said. Her voice was quiet, like someone desperately trying to sound mysterious. It was soft and round with fine lines around her grey eyes. Revati and Bridgadeiro exchanged a look. A careful knowing look. "I don't know any princesses," Revati said, and the lady merely nodded at the little girl. "You fixed my little one's ankles; that gives you one card reading," the lady said.

"Really? You're going to reward me with a silly trick?" Revati asked dubiously. "Ah yes, your cynicism! But what did one father always say? It's a big universe... anything is possible," the lady said with a small serene smile. Revati felt her hand involuntarily squeeze Bridgadeiro's. "Fine, we have some time to kill, and I'd rather not spend any money," Revati said firmly.

"This is exciting, isn't it? I love a good card reading," Bridgadeiro smiled. "Mother said card readers are a scam, that it's incredibly rare for a person to be able to tap into the collective universal subconscious," Revati merely replied. Of course, Amma thought everything was a scam, including massages and inhalable vitamins. The green lady left her daughter at the sweet stall. She then led them behind the sweet stall to a small cave carved into the cliff. In keeping with her mysterious aura, the cave was, of course, unsettling. Cracked old dolls hung from the spider-web-covered ceiling. The walls were covered in paintings of stars and eldritch monsters. Revati shuddered when she realized one of them was a beastly ball of tentacles and eyes. "Now let me see, which is best for you?" The green lady asked before grabbing one.

The green lady handed Revati the doll. It was a naked fashion doll, the sort that when you pressed the button holographic outfits would appear on its skin. The doll's hair had been half-shorn off, and someone had scribbled all over its legs. "That's supposed to be you?" Bridgadeiro asked doubtfully. "It's a representation; now sit," the green lady smiled serenely, gesturing to two cushions sitting on the floor.

"Now place your hands upon the table and clear your mind," the green lady said smoothly. Revati rolled her eyes with annoyance, placing her hands on the smooth black onyx table. Instantly, the table flashed a deep golden brown. A sepia sketch appeared of two figures standing in the snow, leaning over something. "Your past, the ace of wands reversed. A destructive primal force being born. A chaotic energy that causes an explosive situation consuming all those who are near," the green lady remarked.

Suddenly, her eyes clouded, and she cocked her head to one side as if listening to something far away. "You were brought into this universe as a side character, to counter this force... you are not the hero in this story," the green lady remarked. "Well, that's rude," Revati shot back.

"Also, you're hardly a chaotic primal force! You're one of the most organized people I've ever met," Bridgadeiro reassured her, and the table flashed again, revealing an etching of Revati aiming her stun gun at the three witches years before.

"Two cards, the magician and the chariot reversed. You are fighting against your role in a story that has been told many times before. You have stalled the wheels of a chariot spiraling forwards. You have the energy of the magician, the ability to create a different ending," the lady said cryptically.

"Well, they could mean almost anything," Revati confessed.

"Maybe by saving my life you've created an alternate universe?" Bridgadeiro asked.

"Multiverses aren't real," Revati said with a wave of her hand.

The table shimmered again. Now a middle-aged, fat man was sitting on a wooden chair. The man had a craggy, worn face and green hair streaked with grey.

"The moon, a liar will enter this story... A deceptive false prophet," the lady said, and the table turned black once again.

"Good, are we done? That was all very unhelpful," Revati remarked.

The green lady smiled. "We are done... for now, but the Oracle of Delphi will come searching for you," the lady said with a small, gentle shrug.

"The Oracle of Delphi!" Bridgadeiro gasped with astonishment.

"I have no idea who that is," Revati replied.

"You wouldn't know; your world has been very small... there are many things you don't know," the lady replied, and Revati, sick of the lady's rudeness, stood up.

"Let's just go wait at the teleportation station," Revati replied, completely unsettled.

"Take the doll with you; she's yours now," the fortune teller smiled.

Outside, the market was still bustling, and Revati paused in front of a disintegration bin, holding the doll.

"You should probably hold onto that; the woman is clearly a witch," Bridgadeiro said with a small shudder.

"A witch? She said vague nonsense," Revati pointed.

"Your sister has spent four years flying around, turning appliances into sand! Sounds pretty chaotic," Bridgadeiro replied with a small shrug.

"And what about the whole defying destiny part?" Revati snapped back.

"Well, you are going to the apple festival," Bridgadeiro shrugged, and Revati glanced down at the doll. Like all fashion dolls, it had a blank face, its features switched off. Revati pressed the back switch, and suddenly, features appeared: big yellow eyes, a long thin nose, and full dark lips.

"That doll looks just like you; now that's unsettling," Bridgadeiro pointed out.

"Dityaa had a doll like this growing up. It scans your face and creates a hologram! It's just a trick," Revati replied.

Dityaa. She had brought the doll with them to the park; Revati had brought a plush dragon. For years, they played the same familiar game over and over… the princess and the dragon. Revati shrugged her backpack off and shoved the doll inside.

"Who's the Oracle of Delphi?" Revati had to ask.

"It's not a person; it's an AI being! It's used all over the solar system to solve crimes and pass judgment," Bridgadeiro explained.

Judgment. Technically powering off AI devices in neutral zones wasn't illegal... still . Judgment.

#nanowrimo2023 #nanowrimo #science fiction #life on mars #speculative worldbuilding #ya dystopia #sci fi comedy #ya science fiction #saying farewell to armageddon

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