#I make fancier cakes just for a weekend

[imwritesometimes]

I always tell my family after I bake something 'I wish I could just do this for living' and every time they're like 'you could!!' and like... I'm pretty good at baking! and I want to make more money so bad but I also think 'they're hyping me up cause they're my family of course they like my stuff' but at the same time like... I know I make stuff that's better than what some ppl in town are paying $60+ for

[granny-core]

Not to sound like I'm 200 years old and grumpy or anything, but I feel like chocolate becoming cheap and easily available might have made us appreciate other and more subtly sweet flavours in baking less? Raisins, dried or candied fruit, nuts, vanilla, spices, stuff like that.

I might be wrong, or it might just be a Norwegian phenomenon or something. Either way, I have been trying to make simpler pastries and cakes, usually without any icing or filling, to go with tea or coffee on regular weekdays, and saving the fancier stuff for special occasions or weekends. It just feels really nice and relaxing to have some lemon pound cake or oatmeal cookies as a little snack with a cup of black coffee or tea, and really focusing on the flavour combinations and scents.

[the-professional-cocomeloner]

Augusnippets Day 14: Gifts/Celebration

Because God is dead, and they are still standing, and every day from this point onwards is a gift.

content warnings: - none, I don't think - ii ttake it back im sobinf theyre everything oh my god /silly

(link to Ao3 version)

@augusnippets

--

The weekend after God dies, they hold a celebration. 

Maybe just a party. Cecil insisted on calling it something fancier because the death of God was a big deal, so it should sound just as important as what it’s commemorating, but I’m trying to learn that maybe she isn’t right about everything, just… most things. 

…Shit. Don’t tell her I said that, or I’ll never hear the end of it. 

Really, though, contrary to Cecil’s assertions, it’s a lot more of a party than a celebration; for one, it’s small, since only the people who were there are here. ⍒ There isn’t really anyone else, anyways. ⍋ The decorations are pretty elaborate, but only because the SPIS bought out the whole party store and spent all of yesterday setting them up. 

Multicolored flags and streamers hang from every inch of ceiling, the plastic cups come with interesting patterns that I know Cecil can’t see but at least can feel, and in the middle of the table in the kitchen is a giant cake shaped vaguely how God looks in cartoons—because it would be pretty hard to translate a glowing ball of eyes and light and too many hungry teeth in icing—with red X’s over the eyes. 

Joan smirks at me from across the table, which makes me forget about the cake for a minute and feel like crying. Her being here, especially her making that face, an expression that’s so Joan, is in defiance to the order of things even moreso than my presence. Every day I’m reminded of how much stronger than me she is. 

“Holy shit,” Cecil laughs, a sound that fills my head and returns me to the moment, “‘t’s as big as me! How’re we s’posed ‘a eat this whole thing?” 

“Hungrily,” I reply, and the Virtue laughs again, a little sharper this time, and I don’t feel their elbow bumping against my ribs. At least they seem to be in the right place, because Cecil doesn’t react in the way that would suggest any of my anatomy’s wrong this time. 

“Also,” Jonah pipes, squeezing Adam’s hand a bit, “can y’ even, like, say ‘holy’ anymore? If, uh— God’s dead, an’ everythin’.” 

“Screw Him,” Joan says, a little hoarsely, and all eyes turn to her. She takes a breath, brow furrowing. Principalities weren’t meant to hold physical forms like this, and guilt swamps over me like a murky, all-consuming tidal wave in contrast to the bright decorations around us. “I say we talk ‘bout whatever ‘a fuck we want.” 

“Amen t’ that,” Lynn agrees, and a couple of giggles go up around the room. “So,” and now she turns to me and Cecil, “we already picked out a buncha songs to play, but I feel’ike you two should pitch in, too.” 

“Oh, Lynn, ya don’t know what you’ve just done,” Cecil starts to roll their eyes as I start forward, lips already pulling back into an evil grin. I hear a little yelp and stop abruptly, turning to realize my friend was holding my arm and I’d just almost made them lose their footing. 

⍒ Oops, sorry. ⍋ 

“He’s right, though,” I say as Cecil lets go, giving me a petulant look. “You’re gonna regret this decision.” 

“I work for you,” Lynn retorts with a narrow-eyed smirk, standing up to come closer to eye level. I know everyone here is still painfully aware of how dangerous it would be to act this way around a Dominion, if it were anyone but us, and yet there’s no taste of fear in the air. There’s a warring sensation in my chest at that thought, but the feeling of touch still hasn’t returned. “If I di’n’t build up a tolerance for The Cure,” Lynn continues, “I’d’a quit the second day.” 

“Got a point there,” I allow, managing a smile. 

“Okay, can we actually eat the cake now?” Adam asks. “I don’t know ‘bout you guys, but I’m starvin’ because someone—” he juts an accusatory thumb at Lynn and Joan, “—made us wait until y’ showed up so y’ could cut the first piece.” 

I straighten a little, unsure if my expression is surprised or blank when I meet my sister’s eyes. 

“Well, duh,” she grumbles, looking away in a more embarrassed-that-my-brother- actually-realized-I-respect-him than submissive-to-my-Evangelist way. “You’re kinda the whole reason we’re all alive an’ It isn’t. Only fair a ‘death a’ G-God—’” she stammers a bit with the word, still getting used to actually being able to say it again, “—party has the cake cut by the guy who actually killed Him.” 

“‘T’s a celebration,” Cecil whines quietly, and I decide to elbow him back this time. They give me a wounded look, melodramatically frowning and placing a hand to their chest. 

“Uh,” I glance at the faces of the others, “I don’t really have… a speech er anythin’ prepared.” 

“Thank G—” Adam catches himself, finishing in a slightly awkward rasp, “—Gophers.” 

“Idiot,” Jonah whispers affectionately. 

“You’re one t’ talk,” Adam hisses back. 

“Guys, come on,” Joan massages the ridges of her brows as though trying to dull an oncoming headache, starting to sound desperate. Lynn puts a hand in front of their mouth to hide their smirk. 

“Okay!” Believe it or not, I can take a hint. “Okay, cake-cuttin’ time! Right! Yes.” I ignore a muttered “Finally,” from Adam’s direction, devoting my energy into trying to find the cake knife. 

There’s a long pause. 

“Oh fer fuck’s sake,” Joan’s sudden hiss breaks the bated-breath silence, and the the skin on her arms ripples dangerously translucent for a moment. “Did no one remember a fuckin’ cake knife? Fer the cake?” 

A mixture of miserable groaning (Adam and Jonah) and hysterical laughter (Cecil and Lynn) erupts around me, though I find myself only able to frown at the cake. This is something I can puzzle out. If I can be Mark Bernard after he shattered and left me behind to rebuild myself, if I can kill God and live to throw a party with the people I care about afterwards, I can cut a stupid cake without a cake knife. 

“Hold on,” I say slowly, “I… got this.” 

Once again, all eyes are back on me, anticipation lacing the air. How lucky I don’t need to breathe. 

Cecil seems to be the only one who figures out what I’m planning to do before it happens, since he’s the only one who doesn’t gasp—or at least make any sort of surprised noise or expression—as the ink-tipped fingers of my left hand meld together into a sharpened blade the color of shadows at midnight. 

“…” Jonah’s eyes bug a little at the easily-deadly appendage, but what he says next catches me off-guard; “…Did y’ wash your hands first, dude?” 

Adam shoots his partner a look that says he’d eat the cake off the fucking floor if he had to, and Jonah shrinks back, holding up his hands in surrender. 

“Aight, nevermind.” 

I glance at Joan for confirmation, but her eyes are fixed on her hands, where the tips of her fingers are beginning to unravel only slightly. 

◜ I’m not an expert on how sanitary true forms are, but I think I’d rather just cut the cake than deal with Adam when he’s hangry, ◞ Cecil offers me, looking antsy as he shifts his weight from side to side. ◜ If we survived last week, I think we can survive you not washing your knife-arm. ◞ 

With a shrug, I return my attention to Joan. Her hands are in her pockets, and she meets my gaze. “Wanna lead the countdown, sis?” 

“I’ll do ‘t,” Adam immediately offers. “Five four three two one. Happy fuckin’ new year. Cake now.” 

I chuckle and cut it, letting Cecil take charge of distributing it to everyone; at least someone remembered the paper plates. Adam tears into his like a starved animal, which is only mildly concerning, and Jonah watches him with a dreamy glaze in their eyes. 

“T’ that Fucker bein’ dead,” Joan toasts, raising her fork. Her fingertips have smoothed over again. 

“T’ the future,” Cecil adds. 

“T’ this cake!” Jonah jokes, and Adam nods in agreement before realizing he’s being mocked and switching flawlessly to a scowl. 

“T’ all a’ that,” I compromise. “‘Specially the future, I think.” 

“Haha, I got the Mark-approved toast,” Cecil brags. 

I pause before replying with the usual lighthearted jab. “Yeah, y’ did,” I say instead, smiling back and taking a bite of cake. 

The cheap plastic of the fork in my hand against my palm has never been such a welcome sensation.

[bullfrogjoy]

Bullfrog Joy

March 29, 2024

GoodMorning! Looks like it might be in the high 60’s by this afternoon. I think it’s gonna be a good day! In fact, it is “Good Friday”! And that brings me joy because “Sunday is a comin’!”

I’ve been thinking about joy all week. That’s one reason I write this blog: to keep me focused on finding joy instead of getting bogged down in whatever the world sends me. Basketball, baseball, new recipe, prom, a day trip with a friend, finishing a great book, and now it’s Easter weekend. It’s just been a fun week.

Here’s a joyful basketball story for you, and it’s not even really about basketball! Yale’s basketball team made it to the first round of the NCAA tournament in Spokane, Washington, but their band couldn’t make the trip. The University of Idaho heard that and decided to do something about it. Their band all bought Yale t-shirts, they learned the Yale fight song, and they took a bus to the game to play for the Yale team. How awesome is that? Yale won that game, and Connecticut declared a special day to honor the Idaho band.

If you are getting tired of basketball, you can now turn to baseball! Yesterday was opening day for the White Sox. Jan came home early to watch the game. They did not win, but Ozzie says the pitching looked good, and we didn’t get clobbered. Could be a long season, but there was some joy in the ballpark and here in our house about what might come this season.

Besides baseball season, it is prom season. The grandson went to his first prom with a group of friends. He looked so good in his tux! Did you go to your prom? It sure has changed in 55 years! I still have my elbow length white gloves that I wore with my prom dress. Jan did not rent a tux. The guys just wore nice, maybe even new suits. Then we had after-prom in the high school. We might have gone a few places that we weren’t supposed to be during the evening. Maybe not…maybe…not admitting anything.

The proms I chaperoned in the 90’s added a fancy meal, wine glass, key chain, and picture frame favors, much fancier dresses and tuxes for the boys. I do remember some boys wearing the tuxedo jacket, shirt, and tie with a pair of shorts, but most looked a little fancier! And after-prom was maybe a trip to 6 flags or something at the YMCA or college planned by the parents. I could tell you lots of stories, some good, some joyful, some maybe not so good, but it is certainly a rite of passage that still takes place.

About the new recipe? Yes, I tried baking again. I was cold on a cloudy day. That meant the oven needed to be on. Texas Sheet Cake cookies. Google it. They are soooo easy, made from a cake mix, eggs and oil, then easy frosting. I accomplished it! JOY!!! We ate about a dozen in two days, way too much sugar, but so good. After eating three I was definitely on a sugar high. I put half in the freezer to keep us from eating them. Want to know how long the cookies lasted in the freezer? Like four days. Definitely going to make these again.

Oh my friends, I wish you joy this Easter weekend and every weekend. I believe that Jesus died for you and me, then rose again on the third day (Sunday!). I could probably sing Easter songs all day Sunday and not repeat. Favorite old hymns, I serve a risen Saviour…Up from the grave He arose… Gaither Trio, Because He lives… Contemporary praise, Come out of that Grave…Raise a Hallelujah…” What’s your favorite? I can’t choose. I love them all, maybe more than Christmas carols, well, at least as much. Joy to you all as we celebrate Jesus. Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea. Joy to you and me.

[aestheticvoyage2022]

Day 357: Friday December 23, 2022 - “Brunch with The Grondins”

The opportunity to bring Grandpa to the best restaurant around came up, with the offer of a special breakfast pizza on the menu, and I couldn’t resist.  Took the drive down to Green Valley to spend the Friday morning brunching with Jane and Dave so that they could see “Dad” and nurture him for the holidays with coffee cake, shrimp, and stories.   The happy accident of having all this family around for Christmas, in a far off place in the desert.  The five of us, across four generations, interconnected family, branches of love and kindness and great respect. Neat to step back and appreciate that as Jane served Grandpa up with the first piece of the incredible hashbrown Breakfast Pizza. “I’ll need to come back so you can show me how to make this one too! wink*nudge” - so great for my soul to have all these steady hands in my life to look up to, and the chance to join them around the table.

William got to open his first gift of this Christmas, after weeks of us training him to leave the presents alone.   After all, its Free Range at Dave’s house!  Let er rip little buddy!  I helped as much as I could, and he gently pulled one piece off at a time and set it in a pile, as precious as we always say he is.  We helped him open the box and he immediately exclaimed one of his new words “Bus” - Awesome gift and great for me going into the weekend on my own - beautiful wonderful distraction.  He worked it with both hands on the car ride home.  By dinner, Id have all the jingles committed to my memory (in protest of course).

In the evening, I got William down to sleep, and enjoyed the cozy Christmas tree and the quiet of the house, thinking about how this was one of those great days - the spirit of Christmas....where we just enjoy the time connecting and sharing and being with good people.   And if we have the gift of that in our lives, what more do we need?  Keep it simple, and be a good person.   Enjoy gifts whether you’re 91 or 1 - simple ones like the pomegranate guac, and even the fancier ones that have buttons that sing! The fascination is in the feeling.  The Spirit of Christmas,

Song: Keb Mo. - Merry Merry Christmas

Quote: "If you associate enough with older people who do enjoy their lives, who are not stored away in any golden ghettos, you will gain a sense of continuity and of the possibility for a full life." —Margaret Mead

[goldenxglyphs]

edrick-rolling​:

@goldenxglyphs asked: “Happy birthday. I uh…I brought you a gift.” (Hunter)

“Hunzy!!” He squealed, getting excited and scooping his best friend up in a tight hug, spinning the blonde around. Just getting to see the busy bee alone made this an amazing birthday~.

After a moment, he set him down again and brushed off his fancier than usual outfit, since he’d finished dressing for their birthday party tonight. Perhaps his friend could stay? If not, he’d have to save him some cake for sure~.

“Awwwe, really? You didn’t have to do all that! I’m just glad to see you!!” Though Hunter had certainly caught his curiosity.

He let out a squeak at the sudden physical contact, still not used to big hugs such as this. But he wasn’t opposed to it, he quickly recovered with a soft smile and hugging him back. It took him a week and a half’s worth of effort to make sure his schedule aligned perfectly with Eddy’s birthday. Of course it helped that it was a weekend but that was just a bonus. 

“Y-Yea I actually have uh several but the main one is special. And I heard from somewhere--” actually he heard it from the human “--that you give gifts to people on their birthday. I brought something for your sister too so she uh didn’t feel left out.” Yea he put more effort into Edrick’s gift but that was pretty much a given. It was his best friend. 

@goldenxglyphs asked: "Happy birthday. I uh...I brought you a gift." (Hunter)

"Hunzy!!" He squealed, getting excited and scooping his best friend up in a tight hug, spinning the blonde around. Just getting to see the busy bee alone made this an amazing birthday~.

After a moment, he set him down again and brushed off his fancier than usual outfit, since he'd finished dressing for their birthday party tonight. Perhaps his friend could stay? If not, he'd have to save him some cake for sure~.

"Awwwe, really? You didn't have to do all that! I'm just glad to see you!!" Though Hunter had certainly caught his curiosity.

[cindersandroses]

Digital Get Down, Chapter 5

AUTHORS: cindersandroses ( losille2000 and cinderella1181)

CHAPTERS: 5/?

PAIRING: Actor!Henry Cavill/ Plus-Size OFC

GENRE: Romance/Fluff/HUMOR

FIC SUMMARY: When SuperHank met OrcPrincessPeach on the World of Warcraft message boards, it was love at first raid. Now, almost a year later, they’re ready to take the next step and meet in person. Half a world away from each other, both decide to meet in Atlanta for DragonCon, since she was already going to be there for her work as a game designer at Blizzard… never mind that she is a devout nerd. They both have to face the fact that reality is very different from a digital world.

RATING: Mature

WARNING: Mentions of assault.

AUTHORS NOTES: Love you all!

Also on AO3!

Chapter 5

Opal turned to the side as she looked at herself in the full length mirror on the back of the closet door. She smoothed the front of her dress over her rounded belly and picked at the slight ruching that was meant to help hide her imperfections along with the black color of the dress, but it did neither. There’d be no hiding anything. This was about as bodycon as one could get, and indeed she bought it a long time ago because she thought she looked hot in the form fitting silk. As soon as she got it home, though, and really looked at herself wearing it in the harsh light of day, she put it away, in the back of her closet with the other beautiful clothes she’d bought but never found the courage to wear.  

That was changing. Now. Today. Okay, not today. But as soon as she walked back into her house. She planned to go straight to her closet and pull them all out and wear each of them as soon as she had the right opportunity or occasion. Considering that most of them were on the fancier side of things, meant for dates, she figured she’d have more chances to wear them now, anyway.

Even though she and Henry would literally be halfway across the globe from each other after this weekend. She couldn’t dwell on that fact, though. If she did, then the sadness set in. She refused to let that particular emotion claw its way back. They’d make it work if it was going to work. It wasn’t like she couldn’t just take her computer places and work there.

If she could convince her boss to allow frequent trips.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t also spend part of his time in Los Angeles. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Henry walked by behind her, drawing her attention away from those troubling thoughts. He fumbled with the cufflink on his left shirt cuff. She was going to make a quip about it, but the words died on her lips when she noticed he looked at her like a fat kid looked at cake. He licked his lips, smiled, and walked into the bathroom.

She couldn’t help but blush. She never would’ve believed he was truly stealing glances at her, but that notion had been squashed earlier at the spa. In fact, now she was hyper aware of his long, molten stares. 

And it was all because of the wonderful esthetician who completed her facial after their massage. What had started out as a traumatic experience ended up making her feel the most confident she’d ever felt in her own skin, thanks in part to Jessa the esthetician’s enlightening conversation. 

“He’s looking at you like you are the purest water and he’s just had some hot sauce.” 

Opal giggled, and blushed, looking at the woman.  “I just keep thinking he’s going to be like, ‘Ugh, not my type’ and leave, Jessa.” 

“Girl, please. You got one of those peach bottoms that men love to get a handful of. You already got him eating out of your hand, he’s not stopped glancing over here this whole time,” Jessa said, putting her hand on her hip. “And if he does do that, I got a handful of fine brothers who would eat that peach bottom up. So you just let Jessa know and I’ll hook you up.”

The comment made Opal laugh loudly, disturbing the serenity of the spa and resulted in a few perturbed glares from other clients. Henry had glanced up, one eyebrow raised in interest. She smiled at him sweetly and he went back to his shave. Opal smiled. “Thank you, Jessa. I’ll keep you updated.”  

Opal had made sure to slip Jessa an extra tip, even though she was sure Henry had tipped everyone well. Stingy wasn’t really a word she would use to describe this man, not materially or emotionally. 

Or physically.

Definitely not physically. He liked touching. Being affectionate.

She did not; or, more aptly, she was not used to it in the romantic sense. But she wasn’t even that affectionate with her family. There were a few hugs here and there as a child, but they weren’t overly huggy. And then there was the other thing he didn’t know about, because she never talked about it, that prevented her from initially enjoying his touches.

It was getting easier, though, the more he touched her. She found, with some relief, that she actually quite liked being close to him in that way. Perhaps there was hope for her, after all.

Opal moved away from the mirror and followed his trail to the bathroom. She rested a hip on the door jamb and watched him finish his grooming. He saw her in the mirror and smiled. 

“Like what you see?” he asked, that insidious brow raised.

“Nah,” she said with a grin. “I was just thinking about how you use twice the product I do.”

Henry rubbed his hands on a hand towel to remove the remnants of whatever moisturizer he’d used on his freshly shaved jaw. “That’s because it takes a lot to make me look this good. You’re already bloody gorgeous, so you don’t need it.”

Her cheeks heated and she shifted her weight awkwardly on her bare feet. Why were compliments so difficult to take? 

“And as an answer to your question, I do like what I see,” she replied. “I appreciate your efforts. But I also love getting to just observe each other. That’s what we were missing over the last year.”

Henry stopped and smiled at her. “I watched you getting ready, and that’s why I’m so behind. I couldn’t stop watching you. You are enchanting,” he whispered. 

The air caught in her lungs upon hearing the deep gravelliness of his sentiment. He closed the distance between them. The hunger, the lust, the pain, the joy, the need, all passed across his face. He leaned down and brushed his lips across her temple.  “We’re going to make a hell of a couple tonight, Princess.”

“Yes, we are,” she replied breathlessly. 

“Let me finish getting ready. You are distracting.” 

Opal giggled. “Pot, kettle.” 

She moved away from the door and went back to the bed to struggle into the sky high heels she had thought would be great to wear, but now she regretted the decision to pack them. Her feet were going to ache by the end of the night. But--the minx inside her reminded--that could possibly lead to another massage. This time, just with Henry. 

As she finished up the last buckle on the strappy things and stretched her legs out to check how they looked, she noticed Henry watching from across the room with a glazed look in his eyes. She laughed at him, because it was the exact same look she’d had as he secured the waistcoat around his trim torso.  “This… me putting on shoes shut you down?”

Henry reanimated with a shrug. “I have a thing for really high strappy, almost slutty, heels. Nothing like…” He stopped and blushed slightly. “Uh, never mind.”

Opal stood up and went over to him, just barely shorter than him now, and grinned. “I will have to remember that for later,” she replied. 

“Oh, god, please do. Bonus points for silk stockings and the whole belt contraption,” he murmured.

She giggled. “You know, men and women are so different. You want the littlest piece of clothing on me, but I’d rather see you in a three piece suit.”

“I can fuck in a three piece suit just as well as I can without,” he teased.

His comment, and the harsh word, caught her off guard. Taking the opportunity, he went over to grab his cell phone. He beckoned her with a crooked finger. “Come here.” 

She didn’t ask for clarification or even think about it; her feet in their dangerous footwear moved of their volition. When she reached him, he wrapped his arm around her and kissed her head, all while snapping a quick picture. He looked at it, smiled, and turned it around for her to view.

Her cheeks were high with color. Her skin glowed; her eyes sparkled. Her smile showed almost every one of her teeth. Everything about it made her seem so vital, so alive, so… beautiful. She had never seen herself so happy. Simply being near him made her want to beam from ear to ear. 

He smiled softly. “Now you see what I see when I look at you.”

“I don’t always look like this,” she protested.

“You do,” he replied. “Let me send this to you so you can send it to Amber.”

Opal shifted uncomfortably. She’d completely forgotten about sending Amber a picture. What kind of friend was she, anyway? 

“We can’t bring our phones tonight,” he explained. “Something about making sure nothing unflattering gets out.” 

Opal looked up at him and nodded. “Okay. Let me just send Amber a text telling her I’m going out for the night.” 

She saved the picture to her phone and opened up the text stream with her friend. She took the picture, sent it, and wrote, “I don’t think I ever expected my Hank to be this real. Going out for the night. Talk to you in the morning.”

She plugged her phone in, stood up, and took Henry’s hand. “Okay. Let’s go.” 

 ~~~

Opal stood in the atrium of the Georgia Aquarium and sighed. She was enchanted. She’d been here a ton of times before at previous cons, but never on a night specifically designed to be an intimate cocktail party with all of the con’s celebrity guests.  

What actually was her life right now? 

Henry talked to Dany and Dwayne, and she couldn’t get over the fact that she was standing next to The Rock. How many times had she sat next to her brothers while they watched this giant man wrestle? If someone had told her this was going to be her life when she left Los Angeles the night before, she’d have told them they were lying. It was all a little surreal.

Dany smiled at her, obviously picking up on the fact that she had zoned out and had literal stars in her eyes.  “So, Opal, what do you do?” 

Opal hummed and blinked at her. “Yeah, sorry. I’m a designer and programmer for Blizzard. I have been there, oh gosh, almost ten years now. Best job I have ever had.”

“And you live with?” Dany inquired. 

Opal understood Dany’s reticence to accept her into the group. Dany didn’t want anything to harm the business, and even though she seemed tough, she clearly cared deeply for both men as friends. Still, though, Opal didn’t think she gave off a crazy fan vibe.

“My best friend, from like middle school,” Opal said, moving to stand closer to Dany. She leaned in to speak quietly.  “I know you’re worried about me using him, I get that, trust me. If I was in your position I would, too. But honestly, Dany, I didn’t even know he was him… until this morning when I arrived. I just thought he was a dorky British guy named Hank. That was it. In the months leading up to this I just got to know his heart and who he is, not Henry Cavill, God’s gift to women. I knew SuperHank, the cleric who runs around healing people, because he is that guy. I got to know the Hank who was shy and loved to cook and gets excited about Warhammer and new fantasy novels. Who tells me constantly that I am worthy and beautiful.” 

Dany beamed at her. “That’s just what I wanted to hear.” 

“And frankly, you scare me a little bit, so I won’t do anything untoward,” Opal said.

Dany laughed and flexed a bicep. “Don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t.”

“But seriously, Opal,” she said and grabbed Opal’s hand. “He needs someone he can love with his whole being, and I’ve never seen him happier than when he has spoken to me about you.” She squeezed her hand. “It’s not going to be easy, but I promise to make sure you’re okay and safe, and that you can be with him.”

Opal grinned. “He is pretty special.” She looked beside her, expecting to find him there.  “And... gone, apparently.”

Lauren smiled at her.  “He and Dwayne went to get some drinks.” 

Opal felt her stomach clench. She tried to smile, but before she could muster one, Henry was back by her side. He handed her a flute of champagne. “Here, Princess.” 

Opal took the glass from him and didn’t say a word. Her jaw clenched and it took everything in her to stop her hand from shaking. 

Henry frowned. “Is that okay? Do you want something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s fine,” she replied and tried to smile again. Even though she couldn’t see it, she knew it came off as more of a grimace because of the expression Henry returned. He knew something was wrong, but the words to explain it to him failed to form on her tongue.

Not that she really had the chance to say anything, anyway. A loud, booming voice rang out across the atrium, “LITTLE BRUDDA!!!”

Opal spun around and watched in abject horror as two grown men raced towards each other and chest bumped each other like drunken frat boys.

Dwayne shook his head.  “Seriously, you two? We’re in public.” 

Henry came back and smiled.  “Jason, my man, this… is Opal.” 

Jason looked at her, his eyebrow raised.  “Well, hello there, beautiful. I’m Jason…” He took her free hand and kissed the back of it. “If he gives you any trouble, let me know.”

Opal blushed. “Thank you. I will.”

Dazzled once more by the Man Also Known As Khal Drogo, Henry startled her with a hand on the small of her back. She looked up at him, still holding the flute from which she had not yet had a drop of champagne.

Henry leaned down into her ear. “Do you want me to get something else for you?”

She shook her head.  “No, I just, uh… I’m going to get my own drink.” 

She excused herself and headed over to the bar, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t running away from him and running away from the conversation she should have already had with him, even before they both decided to meet here in Atlanta. 

She wasn’t in line long when she felt his presence behind her. 

“Are you okay?” he asked again, concern written all over his face.

“I am, honestly. I just… well… it’s stupid. I don’t drink anything that I don’t see poured myself, and I very rarely drink alcohol in public. I should have told you. It’s just my hang up and, gah... I’m sorry I freaked out a little bit.”

Henry’s eyebrows knit together. He nodded, but he clearly wanted more. 

“Let me get my drink and we’ll take a walk and talk, okay?” she asked, hoping to smooth things over.

He nodded and stood quietly with her. Even though he was clearly confused and maybe a little angry, his presence was still one that calmed her and she found herself resting against his sturdy bulk as they waited. Opal ordered her cranberry juice in a martini glass. To anyone other than herself and Henry, it looked like a Cosmo. It was her fallback when she wanted to hang out with the cool kids but didn’t want to do what the cool kids were doing. Because that one time she did what the cool kids were doing? She lived to regret it.

She took his hand and started to walk through the first exhibit. Opal paused at a tube enclosure in the middle of the room full of jellies. A black light shone down into the water, illuminating the sea creatures as they performed a graceful, haunting dance around their tank. She stood quietly, Henry standing next to her, silent, thinking. 

Finally, she cleared her throat from the heavy emotion making it difficult to breathe. “I was drugged.”

Henry’s fingers curled into her back. Though he tried to mask the sharp intake of air, his gasp was still audible. “Opal, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” she said, just barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t just that. Amber and I were freshmen in college and I wanted to fit in. We went to a frat party. A guy we had art history with invited us.”

His anger was palpable; it wasn’t anger directed at her, though. Somehow, she knew that, as she stared at the gelatinous orbs bobbing through the water. She took a sip of the cranberry juice before moving on.

“I woke up the next morning, head fuzzy, in a room I had never seen before, and my panties around my ankles.” She braved a look up at Henry, to gauge his reaction. The sharp line of his jaw was set, his rage evident.

For some reason, it was cathartic to share this secret with another human. Amber knew, of course. Amber had nursed her back from the brink after they got home from the hospital.

“It’s the reason I pull away sometimes when you touch me, and the reason I am so unsure of myself. I’m sorry I never told you before, but you have a right to know.”

Henry didn’t speak; he looked at a point beyond her, staring in stony silence for the longest time. He finally tore his focus away from that point and gazed down at her. His face spoke volumes, even before his words did. He rested his chin on her head and wrapped her in his arms. “You know I would never, ever do that.”

“Oh, no, I do! I just… I want so badly for you to touch me, to be yours, I just need… time,” she said. “I don’t even know if I’m actually a virgin or not. I don’t know what they did to me. The next morning, Amber took me to the ER and a rape kit was done, but it was inconclusive. I’m sorry if this changes the way you feel about being with me.”

Henry pulled away from her and put his drink on the floor. He took her face gently in his hands. “I never, ever would feel any different about you. I just… I understand now.” He kissed her forehead, but didn’t move his lips from the spot they’d touched. His next words were muffled, but the meaning behind them was everything. “My promise to you is that I will not hurt you, and it’s all going to be at your pace.”

She smiled and pushed his hands away from her face. With her free hand, she reached up and let her hand rest on the nape of his neck. “Well, then, we can do this, cause I’m very ready for it.” 

With little strength, she pulled him down to her and kissed him. It wasn’t passionate or chaste; it was somewhere in the middle. A reassurance. A promise. Her promise to be as open with him as possible. His cue that she was okay with him pushing her boundaries. And she loved him for it.

[chanswavyhair]

Hi! Can i request number 16 and/or 30 with NCT Yuta please? Thank you!

request 4# | nakamoto yuta

16. “you know, i really want to marry you some day”

a/n: IM SORRY I TOOK MY SWEET TIME :((( also this is a fluff overload be careful + it’s a little ?? suggestive at the end, but it’s nothng hshaha anyways hope you enjoy!

“it’s my turn now!” you claimed, as you looked to your boyfriend with your best puppy eyes look. he looked at you, just after he paused the game.

“well... just because you’re cute and i need to practice.” yuta said, smiling at you, while giving you the Nintendo Switch control, before getting his jacket. even though you got what you wanted, you pouted, whishing he didn’t have to go.

“i hope i could spend all day with you... anyways, take care and don’t overwork, okay?” you told your boyfriend. “it’s okay love, i think i have the whole weekend off, so we can spend it together doing whatever you want to.” he said, kissing multiple times your face, and finally pressing a big one your lips. “i love you. see you at night!” you bid farewell.

days went slow, as yuta’s promise of a weekend just for the two of you awaited. you already planned what to do each day, obviously thinking on his preferences too. on saturday you two would sleep in, until one of you would wake up, and spend the day just going for a walk, at night you would have dinner at one of your favorite restaurants. and for sunday, you thought of going to the beach, and spend the day there until the evening. then you would come back and cuddle while watching a film. it was the perfect weekend!

when friday finally came, you decided to tell yuta what you planned, and as you thought, he was as excited as you. you spent the evening doing a project for university, and when yuta arrived, you two had dinner and cuddled until you fell asleep watching a TV show. he carried you to bed, and before he decided to sleep too, he gazed at your image, wondering how could yo be so pretty. some minutes later, you, still sleeping, snuggled to his chest, which make him smile just like a little boy. he then decided to sleep to, because a big weekend was waiting for you.

but... well, it didn’t turn out as good as expected, because when you two woke up, it was pouring. “oh god, yuta, why do i have such a bad luck? it was our weekend...” you whined, disappointed.

“hey, baby, it is still our weekend. let’s just stay at home, that’s enough for me, anyways” he hugged you, and you swore his arms felt like heaven. “it’s more than enough for me too, i just... really wanted this to be special” you said. “everything with you special, so shut up that pretty mouth of yours.” you didn’t know how, but even at this point of your relationship, he still made your heart flutter just like you started to date.

you two spent the day cooking a cake, which after difficulties came out really well, and in the evening you played just dance, in which he obviously beat you every time. at the end of the you made dinner together, and after eating it, you cuddled while watching friends.

“hey, can i tell you when i first knew that i was in love with you?” he said suddenly. you looked at him, a bit surprised, but willing to know.

“yeah, sure.” you smiled.

“well... it was like two years ago. we had gone to taeyong’s birthday party, do you remember? that night, when we came home, you suddenly started crying because you broke down. i held you, and you told me that you were sorry, but you were broken. at that exact moment, i really wanted to be the one who fixed you. i promised myself that no matter what, i would fix you, i would be the cure. that’s how i knew that i didn’t just like you, i loved you, a lot. and you know what? i don’t know how, but my love keeps growing; the more you smile, the more i fall.” he narrated.

“oh god, yuta...” your tears were about to fall, but he pressed a kiss in both next to you eyes. “don’t cry, my love” he told you.

“i don’t know who i fought on my past life to get you, but i don’t care as long as i have you.” you said, just to get on his lap, and start kissing his face, while gazing every mole, scar and inch of his skin. “you are mesmerizing, i’ll never get tired of telling you.” you kissed his lips softly, as if they were going to break.

“Y/N” he said when you pulled back.

“hmm?” you mumbled, kissing again his skin.

“look at me.” yuta cupped you face with his hands, stopping you from pressing more pecks on him. “you know... i really want to marry you one day.” he whispered, as if it was a confession he had tried to keep. you blushed, but in fact you couldn’t agree more.

“we should do it. but, you better propose with something a bit fancier, although i really like this i don’t want to remember myself in such a special night in my pajamas.” you joked, making him smile.

“don’t worry, i will give you the prettiest ring to ever be seen. i already pictured it many times.” he said.

“yuta, how can you be so perfect? i can’t even explain how attractive you look saying those words, looking at me as if i was the only person you’ve ever seen. please, don’t ever look at anyone else like that.” you kissed his lips again, but know you deepened embrace, just wanting to be his in any possible way.

“don’t worry babe... if it was for me, i wouldn’t ever look at anyone else.” he said, while kissing against the sensitive of you neck.

[eyesfixedonthesun22]

The Wedding

Pairing: Steve x Reader  Warning(s): None Word Count: 1,368 Prompt: Based on a “New Girl” Episode: Wedding Season 1 Episode 3 Beta Reader: @supersoldiersruined-me​ Notes: This is for Kelsey’s ( @daffodilsbucky) 1k Challenge! Thanks for letting me be a part of this, darling. 

“So how do you feel about weddings?”

The question Sam’s asked you rattles around in your skull a moment before you return your attention to the “night in buffet” of your dreams you’d just concocted. Strewn across the coffee table is your favorite noodle take-out from down the block, a large pizza with all your favorite toppings, a bottle of the fancier tier alcohol you usually only treated yourself with. The cherry on top was what could only be described as some sundae-esque contraption. You had thrown together all your favorite desserts into one, quite possibly diabetes inducing, dish. Your shows were queued, your comfy pants were on, your bra was off.

“Who’s wedding?” you finally say through a mouth full of heaven.

“Has anyone told you you’re a picture of feminine grace?”

“No.” Throwing in an extra eye roll. Sam continued on as if not having seen your facial expression.

“Some friends from college are getting married this weekend and we need you to come and be Steve’s date. And before you ask why-” Your mouth clamps closed in indignation. “Peggy is gonna be there.”

“The Peggy.”

“Yes, the very one. Now can we stop talking about it unless it means you’re gonna be my date?”

You can’t help but smile as a tall, blue-eyed blonde enters the room. Steve looks entirely unbothered by the mention of his ex, which is the first clue that he is very much bothered. His straight posture masks the rigid tension held in his muscles. The emotional aloofness, a poor attempt at recovery from a nasty breakup.

“I’ll be your date, Stevie.”

“Excellent!” Another hulking man strides into the kitchen plopping onto the couch next to you. He snatches a piece of pizza and folds it in half before pushing nearly the entire piece into his mouth. “Did you tell her the rules,” the brunette manages to mumble from behind cheese and crust.

“Chew and swallow, Bucky...you animal. Also, maybe ask me if you can have a piece of my pizza next time.” You shove him playfully. “What rules?”

Sam and Bucky seem to share a look with each other and then Steve.

“What rules!?”

Sam thinks a half beat longer before saying, “Well you’re not exactly the most… how do I put this?”

“Lady like?” Bucky offers.

“And Peggy is the epitome of poise and grace. So we need you to polish up a bit. Be at the top of your game. Not whatever this is.” He gestures to your table full of food.

“I clean up wonderfully I’ll have you know!” You turn back to your food mildly offended at your best friends before mumbling, “Ungrateful assholes.”

***

Two hours into the reception and things are a verified disaster. You curse outwardly at your support system for aiding Steve and shake your head at their weakness.

Bucky had been named an usher of the wedding. At some point, he’d started what you’d believed to be a friendly competition with another usher. As it turns out, the usher is a child! The two of them have now locked themselves in a battle of wits, pranks, and competition that has fully taken over Bucky’s competitive nature; rendering him wholly useless to distract Steve from Peggy.

For all the lecturing Sam gave you, he’s turned out no better. Not ten minutes into the wedding ceremony he excused himself from his seat. Since then you’d only seen glimpses of him with Tammy. Each of you knew Tammy. You were all intimately experienced with sounds she makes as many other horrific private insights. Sam has a habit of bringing Tammy home from every single event that they are at together despite claiming to hate one another. You’re certain tonight will be no exception.

“Well it’s just us, Stevie.”

He gulps and yanks at his tie before downing his drink. You search your memory to try to remember how many that’s been. A drunk Steve will be far more difficult to redirect than a sober Steve.

“Forgive me, sweetheart but that isn’t instilling the most confidence in me.”

“Hey now! I’m in a really banging dress and heels and it’s all for you.”

“Did you just say-hicc-banging?”

Uh-oh. Your drink count really must be off if he’s hiccupping.

“Is this seat taken?” A picturesque woman in a sweetheart neckline dress moves to sit on the other side of Steve. “I didn’t know you’d be here, Steven. Who’s your friend?”

Steve stares slack-jawed before downing the rest of your drink and introducing you to Peggy. You cling to Steve’s arm, trying to convey the fake dating status you’re supposed to be exuding but it’s obvious he only has eyes for the prim woman in front of him. She is so polite and charming you don’t even realize what’s happened until it’s too late when she’s asked you, “Darling, would you mind going to refresh our drinks?”

It’s there at the bar, you finally run into Bucky. “What the hell are you doing, doll? Where is Steve?” He glances around the ballroom in a panic before landing on the blonde head next to Peggy’s. “What happened?”

“We all failed is what happened?”

“Why is Rogers in a deep conversation with the exact woman we had you here to help him avoid!” You nearly jump as Sam’s deep baritone slides up next to you at the other side of the bar.

“You both abandoned me! We were supposed to be a team. She is tricky and Steve is sad and drunk. I didn’t know what I was getting into.” Your voice tapers off. “I was outmaneuvered.” You can feel the tears start to well behind your eyes a bit, but Sam continues on.

“We didn’t all fail. That’s why we brought you. You failed.”

You can’t hold back the tears any longer. Your vision blurs. All you can think is to find somewhere out of this room; a place where the sounds don’t ricochet off the walls a clog your head. You miss Steve turning away from Peggy to see you sprinting out of the ballroom.

You’ve taken refuge in the coat closet; plopped deep back in a corner alone with your self-pity. You hear a soft rap of knuckles on wood and tuck your legs further into the darkness.

“I saw your shoes, sweetheart,” Steve says. “And I have a peace offering.”

“Steve?”

He crawls down do your level and wedges himself against the back wall. His progress is awkward at first, you assume due to his size, but then you see he’s crawling one handed. In the other hand, he holds a large platter filled with food and wedding cake.  When he’s finally settled he hands you the plate.

“Oh and before I forget,” he reaches into his back pocket and removes a silver flask. “Snacks and drinks.”

You smirk lopsided at him through your tears. “What are you doing here, Stevie? Where’s Peggy?”

“Probably on her way back home to her fiance.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” He takes a large swig from the flask before passing it your way. “I think I finally realized something today. I have spent years of my life waiting for Peggy to take me back...and it’s just not going to happen.”

You aren’t sure if it’s the warmth from the flask rushing to your cheeks or the proximity to the man next to you that makes you say what you say next. “She shouldn’t have been flirting with you, Steve. You really deserve to be something more than someone’s backup plan. You’re a wonderful, thoughtful man. Tons of women would be lucky to have you.”

Steve pulls you against his side and tosses his arm around your shoulder. “You gonna eat all that cake, sweetheart?”

“I could be persuaded to share.”

“Thank you, honey. For everything.” With that, he plans a long peck right to your temple. The electric spark it generates seems to zing straight down to your lungs; stilling your breath and igniting your heart.

Well that’s new.

“Anytime, Stevie.” You’re more than thankful for the low light of the coat closet hiding what is no doubt a fiery blush across your cheeks and chest. “Anytime.”

[buckybabybaby]

Mr Hollywood (Chapter 9)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he's always wanted, and if it wasn't for you, his best friend, he wouldn't have been able to take it.

But is that fact enough to save your friendship when it's tested by the pressures of Hollywood?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 2089

Chapter summary: The summer fête is upon you! And Bucky returns again.

Warnings: a little bit mpre angst...

Previous: Chapter 8

Mr Hollywood Masterlist | Main Masterlist

*****

The day of the fête dawns bright and breezy. Perfect conditions, you couldn't really ask for more given the time of year, but that doesn’t stop the scowl forming on your face as you make the short walk to school. Going in to work on a Saturday always feels somewhat wrong, and that uneasy feeling is multiplied ten times knowing who's going to be there.

It's been a tough week, hiding how you actually feel about Bucky returning when the children are besides themselves, excited to welcome back such a star. Everyone remembers how inseparable the two of you were when he worked here, and as far as they know, nothings changed, so there's been a few awkward conversations in the past days where you've not known if your fake excitement has been believable. Only Peggy knows the truth. Edwin has his suspicions, you know, after witnessing your less than enthusiastic reactions to the prospect of your supposed best friend visiting, and he'd patted your hand gently when you'd slumped next to him in the staff room one lunchtime.

“Coming back home helps people realise what they've missed,” He'd said cryptically, leaving you to your sandwiches. A tiny flicker of hope had flared at his words, one you'd quickly push down. Edwin hadn't heard Bucky that day, didn't know how vicious he'd been, or the cruel look in his eye as he'd broken your heart. Your colleagues kindness is appreciated, but at this point there doesn't seem any chance of saving what you had.

*****

Reaching the school, you breathe evenly to keep yourself calm. Somebody’s got hold of a cardboard cut-out of Bucky's character, whatever his name may be, and it's currently resting in the entrance hall alongside the crates of bric-a-brac and sweets for the tombola stand you're tending.

Just looking at his picture makes you feel sick. It doesn't help that his face has almost the same look on it as last time you saw him, that piercing glower sending a shiver through you. From what you've overheard the programme he's in is a sort of comedy drama, based around comic book characters, which explains his metal arm and combat gear, and the dramatic, side on pose, that you would have teased him about in better times.

Peggy brushes past you, breaking your staring match with the two dimensional image of Bucky as she grabs a box. You also pick one up, following her out to the table where a Year Three is carefully arranging the prizes on your stall. It takes a while to organise all the items neatly, and you get so sucked into a conversation with your little helper, Edwin's oldest daughter, Isabella, that you nearly forget why you were dreading this day.

A laugh, so recognisable, floats across the playground in your direction and you drop the saucer you're holding. Thankfully it doesn't shatter, and you turn your head subtly to look over, breath hitching as you catch sight of him, flanked by the head teacher and too many students to count. Isabella clearly wishes to join them, and you let her go, needing a little time alone to process his presence.

Your hands are visibly trembling. If you thought you felt ill earlier it's nothing compared to now, you haven’t prepared yourself to actually be within eyesight of Bucky again, and you sag, taking a seat before your legs give out. Peggy passes by, spots the source of your terror, and squeezes your shoulder comfortingly.

“I'm okay.” You smile through your lie, staring over at the growing group of children wanting attention from Hollywood's newest heartthrob. Bucky runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tick of his you remember well, and you notice that the length of his waves is much shorter than in all the promotional pictures and videos.

“I didn't even spot that. Must be a wig.” Peggy muses, thinking along the same line as you. “Why don't you ask?” She looks at you expectantly, remaining confident that you and Bucky can sort out your differences.

Glaring, you choose not to reply. You're still annoyed at her for letting this come to be, even though you know it's not her fault. Realising you're not in the mood to hear her thoughts, she part ways silently to attend to her own duties, leaving you alone to spy on Bucky from a distance.

He appears to be being as friendly and patience with the children as he always was. Watching him smile as they congregate around his feet, he looks so far away from the man who caused you so much pain just a couple of weeks ago.

The student given the honour of showing him around starts to lead him towards your side of the field and you panic and do the one thing you can, slipping off your chair and under your stall, pulling the billowing tablecloth back in front of your body. Keeping quiet, you wait in the shadows feeling like a coward. The group roams by the cave you've made for yourself, and you breathe again, reassured that he's going to be busy officially opening the fête in a couple of minutes. Taking a second to make sure he's long gone, the last thing you expect is anyone to find you.

“Why are you hiding?”

Jumping in shock, you hit your head on the bottom of the table as you're greeted by the face of Isabella again. She's observing you with a slight frown, crouching down to sit opposite you. Rubbing the sore spot at the top of your head, you think of how to excuse your strange behaviour.

“Is it because Mr Barnes is someone else's best friend now?” She asks bluntly before you have a chance to explain yourself. “Or was he mean to you?”

You laugh in surprise, shaking your head at her forwardness. She's spot on somehow, and then you remember meeting her mother and it's obvious where she gets it from.

“He wasn't mean to me. Look.” Shoving a postcard in your face, you take it from her. It's the same picture of the two characters that has been everywhere for the last month, this one scribbled across with a black pen, a rushed copy of Bucky's signature. Not the one he uses for official paperwork, you can see, rather just the first half in a fancier script, and with a smiley face at the end.

The sight brings a lump to your throat.

“That's lovely, Isabella.”

“We always thought you'd get married to him,” She whispers conspiratorially.

Biting your tongue to stop yourself swearing in front of a seven year old, and a pupil, you struggle to find the right thing to say.

“Oh really. And who's 'we'?”

“Everyone. Even Daddy.”

Blinking, stunned, you diffuse the situation quickly, rising from under the table and brushing yourself down as you help her up too.

“I've just had an idea. Wouldn't your parents like to see your signed poster? Look, there they are,” You point her in their direction, “Why don't you go show them?”

She skips off happily and you rest your weight on the edge of the table, overwhelmed. How you were unaware of everyone's gossip about your relationship with Bucky, you don't know, and it must be bad if even the younger children are involved.

Pressing your fingers into your temple, you sigh, longing for this day to be done with.

There's a shuffling in the deserted vegetable patch at the back of your stand, probably another teacher taking a break from the mayhem of the day, and you pay them no mind until they come to a stop behind you.

“Y/N.”

Closing your eyes, you don't need to turn around to know who it is. The universe just doesn't want to give you a break today. When you continue to face away from him, he squeezes between your tent and the next until he's standing directly in front of you.

“Hello.” Bucky offers you a small smile and you gawk at his nerve.

What is he trying to achieve here? Hasn't he hurt you enough? There's nothing you want to say to him, not here, not like this, so controlling your expression you coolly meet his gaze.

“James.”

He winces at the name. You haven't called him that for years, he only allows close friends and family to address him as Bucky, and it became apparent you'd be one of his closest very early on.

Despite your attitude, he pushes on. “Can I talk to you?”

“I think you've done quite enough talking,” You mutter under your breath. He hears, evident from the shock flashing over his face, and you feel a jolt of spiteful joy at the way he takes half a step back.

There's currently no one looking to buy a ticket for your tombola, which you use to your advantage. “Got to get a drink, sorry!” You call over your shoulder, keeping up the pretence of still being on good terms, for the sake of the students.

Bucky moves to pursue you with a desperate cry of your name that you ignore, escaping as he's once again mobbed by his new fans.

*****

Later, as you pack up your stall, it's apparent Bucky doesn't want to talk to you that urgently, as there's no sign of him now the crowds have gone. You don't know if you feel relieved or disappointed. You'd sent Isabella back to her father, mostly to let her enjoy her weekend, but also because you don't think you'd survive another round of her questioning. For a seven year old, she is remarkably perceptive, and her age means she still lacks the social graces to know when to stop.

You've made quite a bit from your sales, the amount in the cash tin picks your mood up, and as a treat for surviving being in the same location as Bucky you buy the biggest cake you can from the catering stand. Today has been exhausting and you crave a little solitude to unwind.

*****

That night, you can't sleep again. The winds picked up during the evening, throwing branches from the small tree in the front garden against your bedroom window, but that's not the sole reason you're awake. Your mind hasn't stopped racing since your interaction with Bucky. Why did he have to come back and confuse your feelings further? Your head hurts, and not from the bump earlier, the swirling emotions preventing you from relaxing enough to get any rest.

Admitting defeat, you sit up and stare at the wall. The clock on your bedside table reads two forty seven, and you decide that that is an excellent time to go for a walk down the lane. Sliding your feet into the easiest shoes you can, your gardening wellies, you pull on your coat and pick up your keys, quietly opening and relocking your front door as you embrace the fresh air. Wandering with no particular destination in mind, you find yourself pausing in front of the school. The pass-code is entered into the side gate before you can really think about it, and you slowly crunch along the gravel path up to the adventure play area.

That's when you see them. Your blood runs cold as you freeze, cursing yourself for not bringing your phone with you, the figure sitting on the swings resembling something out of those horror movies you've always avoided. Assessing your surroundings, you consider the option of blending into the bushes nearby until the stranger has left.

Then they move and you nearly cry in relief that it's not a serial killer out to get stupid teachers breaking into school in the middle of the night. There's no mistaking that hair, even in the artificial orange glow of the street lights, and your heart rate remains at the same frantic pace as a new fear over takes you.

You could walk away, pretend you haven't seen him, and just get on with your life knowing you won't have to talk him ever again if you wish. Or you could confront him, and maybe get some answers to your many questions. The second options wins, even though the thought of your warm, safe bed, that doesn't hate you, is very tempting, you know you won't feel right until you've had it out with him.

Pulling your coat tighter around your front, shaking not just from the cold, you approach Bucky, preparing yourself for a conversation you probably won't like.

*****

A/n: Bucky answers for his behaviour next chapter, promise!

Chapter 10

[cancerbiophd]

How to plan a wedding during grad school (and not lose your mind)

I received a lovely ask from @brandnewleaves about wedding planning while in grad school. Congrats on your engagement! 

I also got engaged and married during grad school and learned a lot about planning a wedding during such a busy and stressful time. It does take a lot of time and energy and money, but it can be done! (A quick note: I had a huuuge reception (more than 250 guests), so some of these things may not apply to smaller celebrations.)

Here’s my advice from what I learned: 

Probably the most important thing: Do not do everything yourself! Get help from as many people as possible, especially your partner (as it’s their day too!). Divvy out the tasks, and set strict deadlines. Have regular meetings with those involved if necessary (I had at least 2 meetings with both families together to go over important details, and to reach compromise on conflicting traditions). 

Start early, so you don’t have to do a whole lot of everything all at once, and space out the tasks, so at most you may be spending like, 30 min a day on wedding planning to not feel overwhelmed (tho you can def spend longer/day if you want! Time does fly when you’re having fun!). I think giving yourself at least a year to plan a large wedding reception works well (large/fancier venues need to be reserved a year in advance anyway since they fill up so fast)

Do your research. Wedding planning is a whole new territory to learn about and conquer (there’s a reason people can make a living from being a wedding planner!). Not only do you have to find all the vendors and your venue, there are lots of major things to know, like how far in advance to reserve/purchase ____. I recommend wedding websites like TheKnot and WeddingWire, and chatting with those who have done it before (like me!). 

Then, set a timeline and schedule major events/deadlines into your planner/calendar. That way you can see if you have time to do everything you want to do, and whether you can take things a bit slower, or if you need to fast-track some things. 

Determine a budget for items. For this part I sat down with my fiancé/husband and determined which things we were comfortable splurging on, what things we could be more thrifty, and what things we could do without. The exact $ spent in the end will most likely change, but it’s good to set boundaries and expectations early on (esp on a grad student salary!!)

Stay organized. I used a plethora of excel sheets to keep track of everything, from to-do lists to budgets to the day-of-schedule. I used Google Drive so I could easily share with others who needed to be in the know, like my parents, and so I could see it on my phone the day-of (using the Google Sheets app). I also bookmarked sites on my browser (like useful resources), and kept a powerpoint slide of pictures of dresses and color schemes I liked (you can also use Pintrest, but I didn’t want to get sucked into that time-sink lol). This collection of ideas is also useful to show your dress/suit consultant, florist, hair-dresser/make-up artist, venue decorator, DJ, cake baker, etc so they get the vibe of your day right.

Use a website for guests to RSVP if you’re going to have a lot of them. TheKnot provides a free website that you can customize, or you can sign up for one at Squarespace. You can also use the website to collect info such as dietary restrictions (and to remind them of the address and other details). 

Get things on the cheap!! I know Amazon is kind of a horrible company but MAN I got SO many things on Amazon and saved a ton of money: my veil ($25 on amazon vs $300 on David’s Bridal??? are you kidding me???), my jewelry and hair pieces (aside from the rings lol), all the bridesmaid dresses (I have prime so if I didn’t like them I just returned them), all the faux fur wraps for the bridesmaids, a ton of decor such as table numbers, parts of the wedding favors, the groomsmen belts and shoes, etc etc. And if you’re not particular about reusing decor (that’s been used literally once), people are always selling things on Craigslist! 

DIY is fun and saves money, but make sure it’s doable for your skill, time, and energy. My husband I opted to hand-fill small jars with tea and hot cocoa and hand-fold these cute lil boxes for wedding favors, but in hindsight that was a horrible idea because we had way too many guests. 

Something that’s overlooked: wedding planning will take up space. Like, physical space, to store all your wedding things such as decor, wedding favors, outfits, etc. My guest bedroom was pretty much unusable for a few months because it was filled. Something to take into consideration if you live in a small space.

If you feel yourself becoming overwhelmed, stop. Step away. Take a break. Bring things into perspective. Don’t let wedding planning be a bad experience. Don’t let it bring out the ugly in the people involved. Always remember that this is a day to celebrate with your family and friends the love and commitment between you and your partner. 

My other “more my totally personal opinion” tips:

Spend the money on a professional photographer. If you’re gonna throw down the big bucks on anything on your wedding day, I suggest it be a professional photographer. I didn’t think it was a big deal, but then I saw how amazing my photos were, and how much I--and all my friends and family--cherished such an amazing memory, and I’m soo glad I spent the money. A professional photographer will charge anywhere from $150-300/hr, but even 1 hour of photography for you and your partner and your family members at the venue before everyone else arrives will be well worth it. Not only will the photos be high quality, but wedding photographers know all the best poses and angles. (Also, support your local photographers!)

If appropriate, ask for cash instead of physical gifts. We did this by saying “no boxed gifts - cash or check only” on our invitations. I think this is becoming more common these days, and I honestly think it’s more practical. I legit don’t want any dish-ware bc I already have a set? But money? Heck yes. If asking for money may not fly by your more-traditional guests, consider using Honeyfund, which is like a wedding registry but for honeymoon items, so your guests can give money towards say, the plane tickets. 

I caution against picking vendors (including venues) that are too far/time-consuming/expensive to travel often to. You may have to go back quite a few times for meetings, tastings, etc, and many of these places aren’t available to do these on the weekends and evenings (since that’s when they’ll be busy with the weddings!). Our wedding venue and all our day-of vendors (florist, cake baker, etc) were located in our hometown 1.5 hrs away, which isn’t super far, but we had to take some afternoons off work to make it to important meetings, and that kinda sucked for a grad student. However, you can of course video call in for stuff, or opt to trust how the food tastes, etc!

I think I covered most of it! If you have any specific questions, my ask box and chat are always open! (I didn’t mention it, but I also had to balance 2 conflicting cultures/religions, so I have some experience in that alley too)

Once again, congratulations on your engagement, and I wish you and your love a fantastic wedding and all the happiness in the world!!

[michellerps]

“That’s a lot of gin. I’ll keep adding it.” / “You don’t wear as much hair gel, which is a relief to us.” / “It’s a thing of beauty, my friend.” / ginny & kody

“That’s a lot of gin. I’ll keep adding it.” 

“You better.” Kody stared at the flowing liquid, nodding as Ginny poured it into his cup, giving no indication he wanted her to slow down. At this point, his mixed drink was less of a mix and more so a glass of gin with a hint of pineapple juice. He wasn’t the type to drink every night or even every weekend - mostly because he was underage and getting alcohol was super hard in a town where most people knew who he was and his fake ID didn’t work on them - and even when he did, he had quite the tolerance for it, so he didn’t get utterly trashed. But tonight… Tonight, he needed it. 

He was too in his own head about things, had too much on his mind that he didn’t want to talk about. Talking about that sorta stuff wasn’t his thing. So to clear his head of any stress about his memory which still hadn’t fully returned to him and everything associated with that, and any guilt about Tyler and the bet, and all the other emotions that came with being a lost recent graduate with a job he didn’t want for the rest of his life - he needed to get fucking wasted. 

All he wanted that night was to sit in his parents’ pool house with the alcohol him and Ginny had driven to the next town to buy, get so drunk he couldn’t see straight, and laugh with his best friend.

“You don’t wear as much hair gel, which is a relief to us.” 

The scoff he responded with was dramatic, but not even slightly exaggerated. Kody’s hand came up to his hair defensively, running a hand through it. “What was wrong with my hair?” Before his two co-workers could stare at his photo any longer, he yanked the yearbook out of Ginny’s grasp. He looked it over for another second before arguing further. “It looks great here!” 

Okay, he could admit his sophomore year look wasn’t… his peak, exactly, but it was not as bad as Ginny made it out to be. When both girls laughed, he narrowed his eyes at Ginny. She could deny it all she wanted, but bringing an old yearbook to work just to make fun of the immense amount of hair gel he used to wear was such a low and pointed move. Not only did she have Tyler pressed against her in a booth, giggling with her, she had her laughing at Kody! It was genius, even if he hated it. 

He put his foot on hers underneath the table and pressed down, just hard enough to case her minimal pain. He’d have done it harder if he wasn’t trying to be subtle - or if he actually wanted to hurt her, which he didn’t. He still loved her, even if she did suck in that very moment. 

Their impromptu break ended as the first customer after the recent morning lull walked through the door, and they all hopped up to go look professional. Tyler went to take their orders, and as Kody and Ginny walked into the back, he ducked down to whisper to her, “Just you wait. I have photos of the last time you got blackout drunk and I never posted them anywhere because I’m a good friend, but best believe they’re still living in my phone.”

“It’s a thing of beauty, my friend.” 

Kody blinked, staring blankly at the bowl of ice cream on the counter he was leaning against . The array of colors and flavors, and all the different fruits and toppings almost expertly placed among the ice cream itself, it looked good. Kody just wasn’t sure he’d give it much more praise than that. Ice cream always looked delicious, no matter how you served it up. It was ice cream, that stuff was great. Used to be his favorite dessert until he spent all day ever day scooping it, now cake took the top rank, but that didn’t make ice cream any less great. He just didn’t think it was as much of an art form as other people did. 

By ‘other people’ he mostly meant Ginny. Self proclaimed ‘ice cream artist’ and all that, probably cared more about that kinda stuff than even Seth did. She made it look fancier than it was, he’d give her that. But it was still just ice cream. 

“Yeah…” He gave one nod, and lifted his eyes to Ginny. “Serve it before it melts, Gin.”

[sun-summoning]

harukaozawa replied to your post “if you ever wonder where the hell i am, the answer is i am out living...”

Would definitely be interested in any fave recipes you have to share

OKAY THIS MAKES ME REALLY HAPPY :D

when i make anything with choux pastry i use this recipe. at first i would make eclairs bc they’re arguably prettier and seem fancier, but i prefer making cream puffs instead. rather than having an ugly crooked eclair, you get a cute little dollop!! and i’ll just use a star tip when piping to give it ~texture~ and add just a little bit to it. also it freezes very well after baked. i usually have a bag of pre-baked puffs in the freezer. when i need them, i just stick them in the oven for a few minutes so they can crisp up and then voila.

also this is going to sound douchey and i swear i’m not a snob, but i really do recommend mixing the eggs into your choux pastry by hand. and if you need a bit more egg than what your recipe calls for, then add it slowly. the recipe i use calls for four but sometimes the eggs are small or maybe i dried the flour clump out too much on the stove idk. but i’ve learned to just trust my instincts (obvs these must be developed) and drizzle in a bit more egg when necessary. and then if you have a bit of egg left over, you can egg wash (i never do that lol) or if you’re like me, eat scrambled eggs for dinner.

now for my pastry cream, i started off with this recipe. as a standard vanilla cream, it’s lovely! ngl i picked it bc it had the least amount of egg yolks required. some require like five yolks and that’s just too many egg white omelettes for dinner for me. 

anyway, i’ve since started playing around with that recipe as a base to make different flavours by infusing the milk at the beginning. when i want to make earl grey, i add maybe like three tea bags and let that sit when the milk is coming to a boil.

and then over the holidays, i was making peppermint bark but then my dumbass seized the freakin chocolate so i ended up with a clump of hard gritty minty chocolate. there’s not much to do with seized chocolate lol, but you can add it into something where it’ll be 100% melted. so in this case i added it to the milk!! um i added prob like 1/2 a cup of it and it made the cream a bit thicker. not that i’m complaining. but just saying.

i seized some chocolate like last weekend bc apparently i cannot do something as simple as melt chocolate. i’d like to try using that to make maybe a mocha filling? so i’ll just melt the chocolate when the milk is coming to a boiler with some instant coffee. 

i’ve been asked to bake earl grey cream puffs for my friend’s wedding. i was thinking of giving her a few flavours, one of which might be ube. one of my coworkers has already insisted on being my taste testers. my mom suggested using ube jam, but i think that might be a bit too strong, so i might make a basic pastry cream (sans the vanilla or maybe with just a dash?) and then mix the jam into that. idk i need to test this. fortunately the wedding is still in june. 

OKAY THAT WAS A LOT OF PARAGRAPHS ON CHOUX PASTRY.

these brown butter chocolate chip toffee cookies are delicious. i never have flaky sea salt on hand. also i’ve never made an effort to find it. i have shamelessly just used coarse. 

this is the almond biscotti recipe i’ve been using. i’m still trying to get all the bake times down properly. man do not cut the biscotti without a hefty first bake. it’s just a mess if the cookie is still too soft. i’m a dumbass. but i learned my lesson!

i like this macaron recipe bc it’s fairly foolproof and if anyone has ever made macarons before.....yeah. my first time was good. my second time they were chocolate and just ended up looking like little swirls of shit lol. they tasted good though!! but yeah i find with that recipe the cookies are always nice and chewy. i also find that they don’t really crack. rather, they stay true to the form that they went into the oven with. i’ve upped my egg white to about 75g, but i do want to see if adding some more will changed how it all turns out. 

ok so my mom loves cheese tarts and i love my mom for her birthday last year i got her half a dozen (that’s generally how they’re sold) from three different places and we kind of ranked them to pick our fave. love you uncle tetsu but i’m still sad that you closed your matcha store i loved those matcha madeleines so much. anyway, i made these tarts for the fam and everyone seemed to like it. i did find the filling to have a bit of a grainy texture. still delicious though. tbh i haven’t tried recreating them yet. my friends gave me a set of mini tart pans for christmas though so i’ll try again soon.

and madeleines!! ok plains ones are nice, but frankly i find them kind of lacking. my personal favourites are ones that have a good hint of lemon and some icing sugar dusted on top. i haven’t made them in a while, but i definitely have a phase. if you ever want to and you need to buy pans, i recommend not giving into the temptation of buying the baby sized ones where the madeleines are like the size of your thumb (prob smaller). they’re great, don’t get me wrong, but the i think the full sized ones are way better. also since they’re virtually little cakes, i have shamelessly put the mix into a greased muffin pan or tart pan lol. i ran out of space in my madeleines trays and wasn’t going to go through a second round of baking. my utilities yo.

and these chocolate cookies. a very simple recipe but somehow everyone i’ve ever fed them to absolutely loves them. they’re like brownies. also i’m a lazy fuck and will not be bothered with rolling out the dough and making shapes. i literally just make little balls, press my thumb into them, and then move on. and if i feel like making them pretty, i melt some chocolate, dip the cookies in that, then dip them in sprinkles.

AND TRES LECHES. i fucking LOVE tres leches cake. ok i don’t remember what recipe i use, but i want you to know i love it.

alright that’s all for now. if you made it to the end of this post, congratulations. 

[wildefiction]

Of Course...Mr. Collins

TWENTY-THREE

The rest of the week passed quickly as you finalized plans for the southern California convention taking place the first weekend of December. When you'd asked what would happen once the convention circuit finished for the year, Misha had reminded you that he was in the middle of filming season thirteen, and that it was likely the two of you would be spending a substantial part of the next several months in Vancouver. Although since he lived so close he often came home on the weekends, so he assured you would have some down time. Not that you minded, spending a bunch of time with your prohibitively sexy boss who you also happened to be sleeping with? It was a no-brainer.

Thursday morning dawned chilly, a cold wind and drizzling rain pelted the worn shingles of your roof. Drawing the Venetian blinds open filled the living room with a grey light and you smiled as your cats appointed themselves door guardians, keeping a wary eye on the crows who enjoyed taunting them from the deck.

Padding into the kitchen you set to work gathering the materials to make cheesecake. It was your favorite dessert, and you saved the lengthy process for the holidays. Reaching up to the top shelf of your cupboards required a step stool, as even on tiptoes the mixing bowls eluded you. Whoever had designed the kitchen failed to realize that putting cupboards above the dishwasher made them out of reach for all but the tallest people.

Straining for the stack of glass bowls occupied your attention. Just as you got a good grip on the lip of one your phone rang. Looking around you in search of the source quickly revealed that you'd left the device on the couch. By the sounds of the muffled tone, it had slid between the cushions. Setting the bowls on the counter you ran into the adjacent room, just catching the call before it went to voicemail.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. Collins.” Groaning, Misha sighed on the other end of the call. “You're lucky I need you Ms. [Y/L/N], otherwise you'd be in serious need of an attitude adjustment.” 

The gravelly admonishment made you flush, a crimson heat pooling through your belly. Clearing his throat, your boss quickly changed the subject. 

“So, ahh, I hate to do this but..do you think you could come help us in the kitchen? I may have bitten off more than I could chew with this menu.” 

You were about to tell him you'd be happy to, but he continued, hastily adding that you could bring your sister if you wanted to and that he'd give you a bonus if you'd save his ass. Laughing through the line, you agreed - on the condition that you could bring dessert. “Thanks [Y/F/N], you really are a lifesaver.”

You weren't about to turn down more time with Misha, the salary boost was just an added bonus. He need never know that you had planned on spending the day stuffing your face with cheesecake; deciding to forego the big spread when you realized you'd be spending the holiday alone had saved you a lot of time and money.

Gathering all of the ingredients into a grocery tote along with several mixing bowls, your biggest springform pan and the fresh fruit used for garnish, you moved into your room to change. The bright blue fleece pajama pants littered with sheep that you currently wore didn't exactly feel right.

Not wanting to overdo things, you decided on a pair of soft, plum colored leggings and a form-fitting black tunic top, the hem falling just a few inches past the curve of your thighs. Pulling knee-high, oatmeal colored wool socks on before lacing up your pair of soft leather boots completed the outfit. Spreading a thick layer of dark eyeliner on to accompany the purple and black smokey-eye was just enough to tie everything together, your [Y/E/C] irises framed by the heavier makeup.

Pulling a brush through your long [Y/H/C] hair was enough, you knew if you were cooking that a fancier hairstyle wouldn't last long anyhow.

The highway held few cars, making the drive pass quickly. Pulling into Misha’s neighborhood, you were surprised by the number of cars parked both in his driveway and lining the street. Knocking on the heavy front door left you standing on the porch for a few minutes. After several tries,  you squeezed the handle, and finding it unlocked, let yourself in.

The maelstrom that greeted you was intense. West chased Tom and Shep through the house while JJ sat on the plush rug of the living room and stacked blocks with Maison. Gen and Daneel reclined together on the overstuffed sofa, glasses of red wine clutched in their hands, chatting as they kept a watchful eye on the girls. Rather than being overwhelmed, you felt like part of the family, a smile passing over your face as you took in your surroundings and made your way to the kitchen.

Vicki stood behind the cool marble covered island that dominated the center of the room. The sharp knife in her hand sliced through vegetables with ease. Seeing you walk in, she lowered the blade, and, wiping her hands on the half apron tied around her waist; enveloped you in a bone crushing hug. 

“[Y/F/N]! Thank you so much for coming to help with dinner...you know how Misha can be.” Thinking back to the first night you’d met the Collins’, you rolled your eyes and laughed. “So, what scheme has he thought of this time?” 

Lifting your bags up onto the counter, your [Y/E/C] eyes widened in shock at the thick piece of cardstock Vicki handed across her work station. 

“He..he actually made a menu?” “Where is our host anyhow?” Vicki snorted under her breath in mild amusement, motioning vaguely over her shoulder with the knife she’d taken up to finish her task.

Turning your attention to the set of double french doors behind her, you wandered across the cool wooden floor and looked through the glass. Misha, Jared and Jensen were all huddled around a large grill, where two twenty-pound turkeys were trussed and stuffed with herbs; slowly turning over the open flame. Jared noticed you first as you leaned against the oak door frame, impressed at their dedication. 

“Why am I not surprised that you are actually roasting turkeys over an open fire?” Jensen held up his hands and backed away from the heat, shaking his head while he tilted an amber bottle to his lips.

“Not me, Jared and I are giving him shit. There’s no way Misha can do this and have them finish before next year. We’re taking bets on how long it’ll take until we get to eat.” 

“Supervising, you might say..” Jared quipped as he moved to wrap his arms around you in greeting.

Misha’s attention finally rose from the spit and his eyes met [Y/F/N], a slow smile twisting over his face at the woman standing in his doorway. She looked amazing; a glass of wine in her hand as she smiled back at him, an amused expression on her face. 

“Well boys, have fun out here in the cold. I’m going back inside to surround myself with beautiful women...and cheesecake.” A torrent of wind off of the bay swirled around you as you stepped back into the warmth of the house.

There was a great deal of work to be done for the two desserts you had promised. Melting white chocolate over a double boiler while simultaneously reducing fresh raspberries into a puree forced you to abandon the glass of merlot Vicki had poured you. With those tasks complete you began assembling the base recipe for the cheesecakes themselves, the onyx monster of a stand mixer working overtime to whip the ingredients together. Crossing the kitchen to pour freshly ground coffee beans into the espresso machine for the tiramisu cheesecake took only a moment, the compelling smell warming you from the inside out.

Two hours later, you pulled the hot desserts from the double ovens set into the wall. Lowering the cakes to cooling racks well out of reach of small hands, you sighed; content. The smell of roasting turkey wafted through the open door when you poked your head outside to check how things were going. Rosemary, thyme and orange married together beautifully, a hint of sage rounding out the bouquet. The smug look on Misha’s face at his success caught your eye, his piercing blue eyes lit with satisfaction, that damning smile of his adding to the heat that burned through you.

Setting the expansive table distracted you well enough. A smaller, square oak table had been set aside just for the kids and you found your mind wandering to how it would feel to have your own child joining the others as they clambered up into their chairs. Shaking your head, you huffed at the thought. You didn’t like children. Mentally berating the biological clock that occasionally screamed at you to procreate, you shoved the idea away from your conscience. You could barely take care of yourself, adding a two-legged little gremlin to the mix wasn’t even a somewhat good idea. Pouring yourself a second glass of wine, you settled into one of the twelve heavy chairs that flocked the stretch of dark wood quickly filling with a myriad of dishes.

Dinner played out as if it were the scene in a hallmark movie. The  food was delicious, Misha spending twenty minutes carving up both turkeys before setting large, oval platters of meat at each end of the table. Tureens filled with mashed potatoes, both sweet and gold sat nestled amongst casseroles of stuffing, whole cranberries lending their beautiful color to the tablescape. Massive biscuits rested in napkin lined baskets; an old recipe handed down to Gen from her grandparents. Misha’s homemade wine flowing freely while the kids enjoyed fresh squeezed lemonade, West excitedly telling anyone who would listen that he’d help make it.

“[Y/F/N], where’s your sister? Did she not want to join us?” Jared’s hazel eyes were warm as they turned to you, his fingers laced with Gen’s. 

“She’s decided to stay in Hawaii for another week, actually.” Vicki’s eyes widened as she realized that you’d planned to be home alone today and she grimaced.

“If Misha hadn’t called you to help, what exactly would you be doing right now?” Shrugging, you swallowed another drink of the fruity liquid in your glass before answering. 

“Probably stuffing myself full of cheesecake and watching movies in my pajamas.” 

“What?! There are at least three food groups in cheesecake, it’s a nice, balanced meal.” 

“I’m not complaining though, this turkey is a-maaaazing Misha.”

After hours spent shopping, prepping and cooking the veritable feast laid out before you, everyone was overfull within thirty minutes. Jared and Jensen herded the children upstairs to change into pajamas and get cleaned up while Daneel, Gen and Vicki cleared the table. Back in the kitchen you pulled the fresh raspberry puree and heavy whipping cream from the refrigerator, spreading the fruit topping evenly across the surface of one of the cheesecakes. White chocolate curls and whole berries decorated the outer ring and sides of the confection. 

Adding the heavy cream to a stainless steel charger produced beautifully fresh cream for the tiramisu cake and, carrying them out to the table gleaned the interest of everyone in the house. A concerned look fell over Jensen’s face as he warred with the idea of whether or not he could fit additional food in his stomach. Laughing, you assured him there was plenty and that he could eat it later. With a curt nod of his head, he and Jared followed Misha back outside and you turned questioning glances to the women sitting around you. 

“It’s become a bit of a tradition when we’re all together to light up the fire pit and disconnect for awhile. C’mon [Y/F/N], you’ll see what we mean.” Vicki’s fingers stretched out to envelope your own as she moved to lift several large blankets from a basket by the door. Tilting her head in invitation, you followed her and the others outside where the boys already sat, the small children clambering up into their father’s laps. As you moved to sit in one of the adirondack chairs huddled near the iron pit of dancing flames, Vicki glared at you. 

“Don’t even think about running off by yourself, you come sit with us. You’re family now, whether you like it or not.”

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

TAGS: @jamielea81 @wings-of-a-raven

[theblondegoesabroad]

Day 594

Thursday 16th September 2021

Working from home today, so nice to have a day off and even better because Benoit was at home too! He had a lot of things to do, but we managed to spend a bit of time together too which was nice! This morning, as usual, I got up to do my short workout to start the day and my climbing hangs, but then instead of biking to work, I snuck back into bed for a tea with Benoit. Bliss. We then got up, I started work, and Benoit made himself a big breakfast. Then on with our list of things to do for the day! It was a pretty productive day for Benoit, he took the car to the garage, did the supermarket shop for the weekend, cleaned up the van for our weekend away, and then some. I on the other hand, was infront of my computer all day, as usual, but it was pretty relaxed. I managed to have a good catch up with Cathy which was even better. At lunch time, Benoit and I had our lunch outside in the sunshine, it was nice to have the company and the sunshine! I also baked a lemon drizzle cake for our weekend in my lunch break, so very productives! After work, Benoit and I got ready to go into town. This evening we had tickets to see Josef Schovanec, an autistic French philosopher, who does conferences on life with Autism, the theme for this conference was "Our multiple intelligences, the happiness of being different”, and once again it was really good. He is one inspirational guy and his stories were very touching and eye opening. It is the second time we have been to see him talk, the first time was just before the Covid crisis with Joelle and Paul. A really good evening. He not only talks about the benifits of having Autism and how it can benefit a society, but also how often we need all types of people to make a world. He finished his conference with a quote from the Swiss Federal corperation or something, and it was ‘ the strength of a people is measured by the well-being of its weakest members’. Overall, I really enjoyed the conference and although I don’t understand all his battles, there is something about learning about how someone else lives which helps you normalise it and accept it easier. Before the conference, Benoit and I headed to a new restaurant to grab dinner, it is in the old post office building which was been refurbished and redone, there is a brewery inside along with 7 different food vendors, it is a bit of a food court but fancier. We had a nice little meal there and enjoyed being able to choose a bit of everything. A fun Thursday night! And even better, Benoit organised it all, how lucky was that!

Love Kate xxx

[bakerdise]

Term 2 : Week 12-17

Haven’t update for a while...

Week 12 & 13 - supposed to be apprentice weeks, but we didn’t get any confirmed placement yet (the school says due to COVID-19, alot places not hiring...), so back to school to help out for the 2 weeks. Did mooncakes, helped with private classes, mise en place etc...they say it’s On-Job-Training...but seriously, it’s just free labor, making full use of us. I’m just thinking we pay for school, but yet exploit us for labor work...without pay...doesn’t sound right. Anyway...finally went for an interview at Cedele. 3 of us were asked to go for an interview there, with 2 of them in the morning, and mine late in the afternoon. In the end, I was the only one who got in. The boss says expected long hours etc, which sucks...but just have to endure through, just for 5 months...

Week 14 - school week, continued with 3 days of Advanced Cakes. Lots of demo...and I love Opera cake the most. Taste so coffee-like, and chocolate, nice combi...Followed by a day of mid-term assessment, where we did Charlotte Cake. My cake came out ok, just don’t know why my cream doesn’t seem enough, so my cake is a little lower than others. Was also told my piping is simple, and I should try to be more creative. The thing is I didn’t even know they are testing us on creativity...if not I would have done fancier ones...

Week 15-16 - started apprenticeship @ Cedele main kitchen. Attached to the Cake department. First of all, was surprised that the contract stated my working days are only Mondays-Fridays, although the kitchen operate 7 days a week. Good news for me. But the working conditions are pretty bad...kitchen is super dirty, toilet stinks...the people there are nice, but they don’t seem to want to interact with an intern, which is fine with me. Over a course of 2 weeks, I learnt how to crack hundreds of eggs a day, and how to make strawberry tarts. The only thing which I still sucked at is frosting. I just can’t seem to do it properly...argghhh. Anyway, other than the above, I only help out in simple stuffs like packing and labelling. During my first week, due to the long hours of standing, I actually had leg cramps in the middle of the night which is bad. But by the 2nd week, my legs seem to got used to it. Real working world is tough...expected long hours, but it just got real, haha.

Week 17 - school week, and luckily, it’s a week of Zoom classes, so I get to stay home to do it. Just keep resting, enjoying a week of no standing, not working. During one of our class, we got into breakout rooms to do a group activity, and was in a group with some culinary students. It seems like their working conditions are so much worse. And almost everyone have to work weekends. Compared to them, I think I’m luckier (for now, since peak season is coming). Another few days more to a new week, where I have to go back to work...