#went ham on the lines for texturing

[merlinityart]

Artfight attack #3: Monsoon for @grimsprout (same username on artfight)!

[loopyarts]

Me and fellow artist/ my homie :3 @sangerie did a fun art collab together where we each did the line-art for a piece for the other to colour in.

On the left side is Sangerie line-art and my colouring and cough I also did the background as well, I went a little ham on it ha ha 😅 god painting all those kitchen tiles took forever to do. When I was colouring the piece, my goal was to do a nice warm evening vibe to the piece overall. Ps can you tell who’s in the background :3

On the right side is my line-art and Sangerie lovely colouring and I love how much texture and lighting they put into the piece :3 and the starry night sky background they did as well gives it such a magical and cozy to the piece overall.

[lucislovebug]

The Sun

This morning it was much more dry, thankfully. The sun was rising, the muted yellow shade covering the sky, stratus clouds filling empty space across the horizon. Awake early as ever, Josuke was in his bathroom, combing his hair over his eyes and then up in his regular do-up.     Today he decided to try something new. He went through his mom’s makeup bag, grabbing a thin black stick and a dark powder. He looked to himself in the mirror, leaning forward and pulling the skin at the bottom of his eye. 

“Okay.. Like Robert Smith. Or David Bowie.. Or Prince. Or.. One of those guys. Easy.” He mumbled, slowly lining his waterline with the eyeliner, and then smoking it out with the powder, rubbing his eyes. He liked the look, but his mother could never find out. He put his mother’s makeup back in her bag, finding a red lipstick and clear, jelly-like substance inside of a small plastic pot. 

He applied a light layer of lipstick only on the inside of his lips, blending it out with the vaseline in the pot. He wondered how his friends would see it, if they would like it. He didn’t really care, he was more worried about what random people would say in the hallways, since it wasn’t very normal for men to put any effort in their looks. He was made fun of enough for his hair. He stared at himself, poking and prodding at his skin and contemplating whether it was worth it. He always took good care of his appearance, borrowing his mother’s creams and soaps to keep acne and poor skin texture away. He even plucked his eyebrows, he wanted to look his best all of the time.  

Ever since he was a kid, he would mess around with his mom’s more “girly,” things. Painting his nails messily as a toddler, the majority of the polish landing on the kitchen floor, attempting to copy RuPaul’s look when his mother was at work, complimenting old lady’s clothing at the grocery store. He was a very artistic person, his favorite canvas being his own body. It was hard to express himself in his world, where it was almost unsafe for him to show up to school or walk around with his preferred look. It was also impossible to find a girl when he looked more beautiful than they did. 

He shrugged to himself in the mirror, cleaning up his bathroom and walking down to his kitchen, chopping up some fruit for his lunch, and for breakfast he had a simple meal, a wrap with avocado, lettuce, and ham. Not forgetting about Y/N’s gift, he took her drink and cookie out, microwaving the cookie and wrapping it in a paper towel to keep its warmth. He grabbed his bag, leaving his home and walking over to hers. 

On his walk, he wondered how she would react to his minor change of appearance for the day. He felt that she would like it, she was such a warm and kind woman, someone that made him feel like he was getting a hug every time he was acknowledged by her. He wondered if she had changed anything either, or if she wished to but was too afraid of what people would think. Then he remembered it wasn’t that deep, and how could someone so loved feel afraid to express themselves?  

Knocking on her door, he waited for it to open. He rubbed his eyes, forgetting about the eyeliner. Sighing as he saw the black streak on his hand, he wiped it off and tried to fix his face using one of her house’s windows as a mirror. As the door opened, he extended his hands, the right one cold from the drink, the left one warm from the cookie. 

“Good morning!” He said, shockingly cheerful, something he didn’t expect from himself. “I got you a cookie, I don’t know what you like to drink, I hope this is okay.” He said, a bit more bashful, like the Josuke Y/N knew.  

“Good morning, Josuke.” She said with a soft smile, one that made his heart turn into a melting mess. “The drink is fine, thank you very much.” She continued, taking the food and drink from his hands, gasping as she felt his freezing knuckles, taking his hand into hers. 

“You’re so cold!” She said with a small pout, holding onto his hand tight, trying to warm him up. She held the drink and cookie in one of her hands, walking with his hand in hers as she left her doorway and shut her door.  

His cheeks were flushed, though he held her hand back just as tight. “Yeah, the can’s pretty cold.” He said softly, leaning into her, careful to stay subtle. 

“Should we walk to class together today? My first period is business, you could meet me there and we can walk to history.” She said as she swung their hands back and forth, letting go once he was warm again. 

“Sure, what’s the room number?” He asked back, sad that she let go, though she could never know. 

“Ummm... 1230. It’s the hallway next to the gym, the fourth door on the right.” She said back, looking to his face. “Are you wearing makeup?” She asked with a curious smile, looking a bit closer. 

“Oh, yeah.. Does it look weird?” He asked shyly, his hands going up to wipe off the makeup. 

“No! I think it’s really cool! It’s like.. Robert Smith!” She piped up, grabbing one of his wrists and pulling it away from his face. 

“Oh, good. I hoped so.” He said quietly, not knowing what else to add. 

The walk to school was a nice and calm way to start off the morning. It was always a nice day when he got to look at her. She was so sweet and free of judgement. He wondered how he would ever come to terms with only being her friend when she was his dream girl. He sighed dreamily, slowly holding onto her hand once more, his pinky holding hers. 

“So I don’t stumble into you anymore.” He mumbled out his excuse, looking to his shoes. 

“So you don’t stumble into me anymore.” She echoed, letting him hold onto her finger with a grin, eating the cookie he got for her. 

The two stayed quiet, aside from Josuke’s occasional bumps, which made them both smile and give a light chuckle. With each gaze, he memorized how her hair moved with her steps, how her clothes wrinkled and shifted with her movements, and how her finger would squeeze around his every few minutes, something he was sure she didn’t notice. Three months of his silent pining and begging finally came to an end, he finally had her, even if he was wrapped around her finger. 

“I see the sun in your eyes.” He mumbled, though he wasn’t looking at her. 

“Really? Like a reflection?” She asked back, looking to him, where she was greeted with his strong, clenched jaw. 

“Sure. Yeah, like a reflection.” He said airly, tilting his head down to look at her, a sweet, love-struck smile on his face.  

It was nothing like a reflection. It was the brightness. It was how her beautiful eyes lit up a room. Not even a room. They were outside, and she still made it brighter. She was his sun. He used to feel like the moon, always behind her. He now felt as if he were Mercury.  

She made him feel warm.  

[charlilil]

Hey there, hope your week is going well! I adored your work for the 2023 D20 Zine Jam, the composition and typography is meticulously done. May I ask what brushes/tools you did for the black and white rendering? All good if you dont have time to go through them, have a good day!

Thank you sm!! Hope your week is going well as well! And omg literally no problem. I hope this is everything I used.

I use procreate and these are all true grit texture supply brushes. I have bought a few of their brush packs but honestly I think all of these are from the free sampler pack that they have. I used the photocopied tech pen for all the lines cause i really wanted the zine to look like a classic photocopied print out zine, and i really like how it changes it’s look depending on the stabilization.

This was the rough plan that i was following for lines so once i got past that i kinda just went ham with textures?? I was trying to be messy with it so I’m not exactly sure where i used what, but it was definitely a mix of those shaders and dots. When it comes to lettering, for most of it I used a font as a base to make sure I was writing straight enough and then lettered everything by hand over that. With the cursive-esque stuff I just did my best free handing it. Oh and omg so many layers set to the difference blend mode.

I hope this answers your question, but if there’s anything else feel free to ask!!

[voraciousvore]

The Half-Blood Giant (27/51)

Chapter 27: Meat

Hunter was ensnared by a conflicting tangle of emotions that he couldn’t even begin to parse. His resentment towards humans and his bitterness over being punished were overshadowed by the fact that he had almost killed someone. He was remorseful, but also confused. Hector should have been furious at him for nearly drowning him in the fountain when he couldn’t swim, but he had only shown clemency. Hunter failed to understand his behavior, especially when he had been so quick to defend his girlfriend in a hot-headed, obstinate confrontation. Above all, he was corroded with guilt, not just because of Hector but because of how he treated that tiny human girl. He knew he had acted unfairly and impulsively. She didn’t deserve to be the target of his wrath. She was innocent; she couldn’t help being human, any more than he could. 

His emotions were further complicated by his hunger. He woke up ravenous, and as he passed by the human dorm, he imagined ripping off the roof and stuffing fistfuls of humans in his mouth. He wondered what they would feel like if he swallowed them alive, fighting for their lives as they were forced down his throat into his belly—probably amazing. He had to physically stop himself from bending over to seize a biker as she pedaled past his shoe. He needed to eat. 

Since Hunter was on edge from being around other people, and his senses were further sharpened by his hunger-fueled predatory instincts, he was hyper-aware of his surroundings. He observed that he was getting hostile stares from other giants, and the humans were even more wary and skittish around him than before. He realized word must’ve spread of his misdeed in class yesterday, when he snatched up his smaller classmate.  

At least everybody was avoiding him, especially the humans. He got in line for breakfast and made a mountain of pancakes, biscuits, and ham on his tray. When he went to go sit down at his usual spot, he was immensely annoyed to find another student in his seat. He slapped his tray down on the table and glared at the comparatively scrawny giant. 

“This is my table. Get out of my seat and go somewhere else!” he snarled. The other student looked up at him, glanced over his burly, broad arms, and turned white. He hastily grabbed up his things in a rush and hustled off to another table, muttering an apology.

Hunter sat down with a smirk on his face and started to eat. Finally, he got relief for his famished belly. He wolfed down his whole breakfast with gusto, focused entirely on the taste and texture. He supposed the cafeteria food wasn’t that bad. At minimum, his mind was taken off of eating humans, or the stares of the students around him. Hunter didn’t feel like he belonged here; this place was all wrong. 

He finished his meal and stood up to put away his tray and go to class. As he sauntered through the cafeteria, he noticed giant students staring at him, whispering to their classmates nearby. He volleyed back a searing glare to anybody who looked his way, and their eyes dropped away with discomfort. Hunter sneered. He hated being the center of attention, but he did enjoy putting losers in their place.  

He had to sit near the humans again. Hunter was satisfied to see them tremble under his frigid gaze. The teacher glowered at him and he smirked back. His hatred and arrogance were beginning to overwhelm his guilt. He really didn’t do anything wrong, after all. For some reason, he was reminded of his grandpa’s war stories about slaughtering human soldiers, and he felt vindicated. He was right. They should fear him. 

The bell rang, and Hunter went to his next class. This time, he sat near the humans on purpose, just to watch them squirm. His breakfast digested quickly, as he was still a growing boy of exceptional stature, and he was already getting hungry again as he inhaled the intoxicating scent of his prey. As his mind wandered, and he tried to justify his violent behavior to himself, he spied a small human man scurrying into the classroom. He was clearly an adult, too old to be a student. He called one of the human students away with him and left. Hunter thought this was odd, but didn’t think much of it. 

As his belly processed its contents and emptied, Hunter counted down the minutes until lunchtime. The class was dragging on forever. The human student that had left class, a diminutive nerdy boy with glasses, returned, looking nervous for some reason. He climbed the stairs to the human desks and surveyed them, as if lost. Hunter observed him through his peripheral vision curiously, cupping his chin in his hand. 

“Is there… a human student named Hunter here?” the boy asked timidly. Hunter’s eyebrows shot up. The other humans looked at each other blankly. 

Hunter leaned over the humans. “That’s me.” A shudder ran through all of them, especially the kid who uttered his name, and all their terrified little faces turned up in his direction. 

For a moment, the boy was at a loss, until he finally managed to squeak out, “B-b-but Mr. Pablo is meeting with only the human students, not giants…” 

Hunter sighed. “Come with me, pipsqueak.” Without warning, he scooped up the tiny teenager in his palm and stood up. His classmate yelped out of shock but didn’t dare to make another sound as Hunter trudged outside the class. “Now, what’s this about?” 

The teenager fumbled with his glasses, panicking in Hunter’s palm. “Y-y-you must be m-m-mistaken, the h-human counselor is only s-s-seeing humans…” He was stuttering and shaking so bad as to be almost indiscernible. 

Hunter huffed again. “I am part human,” he confessed. The kid froze up with shock. Hunter leaned in, bringing his classmate dangerously close to his colossal lips and teeth. “You better not tell anyone, or else I’ll eat you. Understand?” The human, speechless, nodded frantically. 

“Good.” Hunter paused. “Where am I supposed to go?” The boy pointed down the hallway. He was unable to hold his arm steady. 

“The door down the hall on the right, with a hole cut out of the bottom corner,” he quavered. 

Hunter nodded curtly and hesitated, fixating on the helpless creature in the palm of his hand. For an ugly moment, he considered popping the student inside his mouth and swallowing him. He’d be the perfect little snack to tide him over until lunch, and he smelled tasty, almost like a hot dog. The boy’s eyes filled with moisture behind his glasses and he let out a soft whine of fear, as if he knew what the giant was thinking. Hunter sucked down the saliva in his mouth and mercifully allowed the boy to go, lowering his hand to the floor. The boy scampered out of his hand and back to the safety of the classroom as fast as his legs would propel him. Hunter felt a small stab of anxiety as he contemplated what he almost did. He didn’t want to dwell on it. 

He headed over to the human counselor’s office. Pedro, from within, felt the ground vibrate with his approaching footsteps but had no idea what was coming. He assumed Hunter was a human like the others. He thought whatever giant was clomping by would keep going, but the seismic rumbles stopped outside his door, the huge shoes casting shadows through the crack under the door. Pedro stiffened as he was stifled by the sinister, gloomy aura emanating from the other side.  

The giant teenager didn’t bother to knock and thrust the door open. Pedro’s heart jumped into his throat and a heavy blanket of ominous dread settled over him. Though he’d never laid eyes on this giant before, he knew right away who he was. He’d heard his exact description more than once from the scared humans whom the giant had bullied. All his features, from his dull reddish hair to his green eyes to his intimidating musculature, matched perfectly. Why was he here now? He couldn’t possibly have good intentions; Pedro’s pulse spiked as his heart began to hammer against his ribcage. He was defenseless if the giant had a hostile objective in mind. 

Hunter scrunched his nose with distaste. “A broom closet? Really?” He squinted down at the diminutive desk and chairs by his feet. “Pathetic.” 

Pedro turned white as a sheet but tried to remain outwardly calm. “Can I help you with something?” 

“You summoned me, or so I thought,” Hunter replied, his eyes narrowing with barely withheld belligerence. “I’m Hunter.” 

“Oh, there must have been a mistake. I’m only meeting with humans,” Pedro explained shakily. 

Hunter huffed loudly, thoroughly irritated with this same talking point being parroted to him over and over. “I am human,” he insisted with exasperation. “Well, half-human. To my great misfortune.” His voice seethed with vile spite. 

Pedro’s jaw dropped. “No, that can’t be possible...” he murmured. “How...?” 

Hunter flashed him a rancorous look for his impertinence before shaking his head. “My father is a giant, but my mother is a human. Don’t ask how, I don’t even want to know myself. I already know too much about the weird intimate stuff they do right in front of me. Gross.” Pedro thought it wise not to inquire further on this point. Hunter stepped into the closet and shut the door. His bulk filled most of the space. Pedro normally felt his office was too spacious, but now he was suddenly overwhelmed with claustrophobic anxiety. Hunter labored to lower himself into a sitting position in the cramped space. He ended up folding his legs in such a way that his enormous shoes fenced in Pedro’s desk on either side. He leaned over the desk, engulfing Pedro with his shadow, surrounding the small man with his gargantuan mass. 

Pedro started to pant with alarm as he realized he was hemmed in on all sides, like a cornered little mouse in the paws of a cat. Hunter could do whatever he wanted to him, and he wouldn’t be able to escape. Hunter bled off a malevolent aura that suffocated Pedro and weighed him down with a crushing force. He couldn’t move and struggled to even breathe. 

“Well?” Hunter boomed, snapping him out of his stupor. 

Pedro fumbled to recover and unglue his tongue. “Uh, yes, so...” He swallowed the lump in his throat with some effort. “I’m just here to address any concerns you might have, or if you need someone to talk to about your experiences...” 

Hunter scratched his chin and glowered. “Yeah, actually. I have a lot of complaints about this crappy excuse for a school.” He shifted his position in the tight closet with discomfort. His back was starting to ache from straining forward. Without asking for permission, he plucked Pedro out of his seat and lifted him up so he could talk to him while lounging against the wall instead. Pedro squealed and flailed as he dangled high off the ground in front of Hunter’s face. Hunter sneered, enjoying the man’s reaction. His belly audibly grumbled, making Pedro shiver at the baleful rumbling. The giant’s face grew serious. He was distracted with the human’s strong, appetizing scent permeating the space. 

“First off, the food here sucks,” Hunter proclaimed, spurned to the topic by his empty stomach. “I can never get enough to eat because it’s not very filling, and I’m always so damn hungry. Plus, it doesn’t help that I’m surrounded by humans that smell so tasty all the time.” He blinked and bit his lip, realizing he had let slip too much. Pedro gaped at him in horror at the implication of his words. Hunter’s stomach growled again, like the vocalizations of a famished beast. The giant imagined curling his tongue around the human, scooping him into his mouth and toying with him, swallowing him whole with a satisfying flex of his throat. He licked the saliva off his lips. 

“That’s another thing. Too many stupid humans at this school,” Hunter complained, trying to move on to another topic. “I hate humans. Worthless little creatures.” By this point, Pedro was too scared to argue or point out Hunter’s hypocrisy. His mind had gone completely blank with terror. All he could comprehend was the enormity of the giant all around him, how small and helpless he was pinched in the giant’s fingers, and the gurgling of the deadly void within that massive body that clamored for him to get inside. 

“And I hate everybody at this school. Everybody keeps staring at me like I’m some sort of freak.” An unexpected sharp pain contorted his features. “I guess because I am.” He shook it off and scowled. “I just want to be left alone. I don’t want to be here anymore. Or anywhere. I don’t belong anywhere. I hate everything. I hate myself!” His voice rose as he became more impassioned. Pedro wished he could say something, but his jaws were cemented together with tension. Hunter’s uncontrolled wrath, when he was held prisoner in the giant’s hand, terrified him. He flinched as Hunter’s huge stomach gurgled noisily again below him. Hunter stopped his tirade and stared at the human intensely. Hungrily. 

“I wonder what humans taste like,” he said softly to himself. He was sorely tempted. He was just so hungry. Hunter wasn’t done with his impossible growth spurts, but he didn’t have his father here to cook for him all the time. The human’s scent was all around him, so tantalizing, his flesh beckoning. His mouth watered as his lips and teeth parted in anticipation. Pedro turned deathly pale at the sight of the dripping darkness within as Hunter drew him in closer. 

Just then, the bell sounded off to signal the beginning of lunch. Hunter stopped. The sound had returned him to his senses. He gulped and set Pedro back down in his chair. “I need to go,” he muttered, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He struggled to stand back up and rushed out the door, shutting it behind him, the vibrations nearly knocking Pedro out of his seat. 

Pedro sat at his desk in a stunned silence, unable to move. As the unsettling interaction sank in, he trembled uncontrollably and hugged his arms tightly around his body, as if trying to defend himself. That student had awakened in him a primitive, animalistic fear that he’d never experienced before with such raw potency. In that moment, he hadn’t felt like a person, with thoughts and feelings and a soul; he had the self-awareness to realize that, to the hungry giant, he was nothing more than a living piece of meat. 

Chapter 28

Chapter 1

[clowneryandshenanegans]

alright here’s some I rly like and some I came up with :)

• Noirs first language was French after his parents were French immigrants, his mother taught him French before they died and then he learnt English (I came up with this one for a fic and did like 3 hours of research total)

• Miles has tried “spice training” Gwen so her white ass can handle spicy food

• Peter B is trans and he and MJ had Mayday through IVF

• They all have a Minecraft server with about 12 texture packs

• they have movie nights where one gets to pick the movie with a very loose set of rules: during one of these sessions a horror movie was picked and noir had a plate of pizza rolls thrown at his head after asking if anyone wanted anything while he was up, since his voice was very similar to the killer

• All of them HATE peppermint

• Hobie constantly uses the phrase “I don’t believe in concepts” and is the only one allowed to use it since he made the watch replica

• the watch has a ton of random features including but not limited to changing the wearers color to disguising features that especially stand out. (Usually used for spiders like noir and hobie, in case they need to do something stealth related or hide their color pallets/background popups when in other universes)

• Pavitr still calls miles “new guy”

• Peni and Margo went on a “ruining the hqs tech” spree after Gwen was sent back and recruited them. Miguel was pissed off and LYLA thought it was funny

• They’ve set up a “bitties protocol” on noirs watch that takes photos of his chest when fighting and sends them to the teens group chat. (Context: noir has a more muscular chest from Nazi-punching which led to nice tits jokes and thus the bitties protocol) Peni and Margo made the program, and LYLA was in on it and fully on board. Miguel was not. He was not happy when he found it. He was also not happy when learning it was originally used on him.

• Miguel and Ben Rielly are together and have adopted Lego Spider-man as their son and Spider-cat as their cat

• Spider Hatsune-Miku once did a show for the society, after which Gwen dragged Hobie to go talk to her and Spider-miku immediately pulled the “hatsune miku does NOT talk to British people!” line on him.

• as peni got older she looked more and more like her comic design, currently it’s about halfway

• all of them have had to replace doorknobs due to the enhanced strength the day they got it. Pavitr got chewed out by his Maya Auntie after.

• language differences are INSANE and so is the group Spotify playlist

• Pav and Peter are transmasc, Gwen is transfem, and Hobie is genderfluid

• noir and ham are aroace

• Margo somehow managed to get Miguel to pay all the spiders after a year

• most of them got super bendy so hide and seek game is peak

• floor (and walls and ceiling) is lave is PEAK

• all of them have fangs. This includes the horse.

• miles and Gwen have decided that they’re even after she went through his sketchbook and opened his figure and he ripped part of her hair out and have agreed no more of that (they both still feel bad about respective actions but won’t let the other apologize anymore)

I have a lot, if you couldn’t tell lmao

yeah this was just an opportunity to share them all so yippee :D

Guys reblog this post and give me your absolute favorite Spider-Verse headcanon(s).

It can be of any character (OR multiple characters). It could be silly, sad, stupid, hell it could make literally NO sense. Idc just GIMME SOME I WANNA HEAR EM!’ 🔥🗣️

[thedisneychef]

Biergarten Nudel Gratin Recipe: German Mac and Cheese

I’ve been obsessed with carbs lately!  Blame it on the diet or my training for the Wine and Dine Half, but I feel like if I were left to my own devices, I’d snack on pasta all day. When I went looking for a pasta recipe, I found this one from Biergarten which made me so happy… Being second generation from Germany and having been to Germany several times, I realized I was also craving some German style food. Since my reservation at Biergarten is still about 75 days away, I thought this was perfect. Now, when I was making this,I had the strangest feeling that I’ve made this recipe before, but I looked and looked and didn’t see that I had… So if I’ve posted it and it’s a repeat I apologize… At least it’s amazing enough to warrant a double-post! More Delicious Recipes You Will Love: - Mickey Waffles Recipe – Disney Parks - Ohana Bread Pudding with Banana-Caramel Sauce - Orange Beef – Polynesian Resort This is super easy to put together (a refreshing change after my birthday recipe…) and it’s incredibly kid-friendly.  Honestly, most home cooks probably have a similar recipe stowed away in their back pocket for fast, delicious family dinners. If not, they should and this is the one to choose! My only feedback on this recipe is that the quality of the cheese can make-or-break this dish. I wished after I’d had the first bite that I’d invested in nicer cheese than the generic store brand… Nicer cheese would have made this dish absolutely sing! For the caravores out there, you can add bacon or very small diced ham for an extra little something and I bet it would taste fabulous. Really, this serves as an excellent base for something more complex with meats and different cheeses, or it can be served as-is for a ridiculously hearty meal. The great thing was this was an amazing reminder of both my time in Germany and the dinner we had at Biergarten. The fact it could be served in this huge, family-style casserole dish reminded me of lining up in front of the buffet at Biergarten and trying to restrain myself, but it also reminded me of the very traditional dining we enjoyed all through Germany. So many of their meals are food-focused family time (we had meals that lasted for hours… Most of them lasted hours, actually…) and it’s not at all difficult to imagine that this easy-to-make dish that serves an army and tastes good warm or cold would be on the table. Cheesy without being too cheesy, crunchy like chips on the top and sides from that delicious cheese and macaroni “crust,” but soft and ooey gooey in the middle… I’m excited for leftovers and for Biergarten all over again. Conclusion In conclusion, the Biergarten's Nudel Gratin Recipe, also known as German Mac and Cheese, is a delicious and comforting dish that is sure to satisfy any craving for cheesy goodness. Drawing from our firsthand experience, we can attest that this recipe is easy to follow and uses simple ingredients that can be found at most grocery stores. The combination of pasta, cheese, and breadcrumbs creates a satisfying texture and a rich, creamy flavor that is perfect for a cozy night in or as a side dish for a larger meal. Plus, the addition of smoked ham and onions add a unique German twist to this classic dish. Overall, the Biergarten's Nudel Gratin Recipe is a must-try for anyone who loves mac and cheese or is looking for a new twist on a classic comfort food. In addition to the delicious food and recipes, Disney World is also known for its unique dining experiences, such as character dining and themed restaurants. Whether you want to have breakfast with Mickey Mouse, dine in a replica of a sci-fi drive-in theater at Hollywood Studios, or enjoy a meal with an ocean view at the Coral Reef Restaurant in Epcot, there's something for everyone. And with the help of Recipes Today and the How to Make category, you can even recreate some of these magical dining experiences in your own home. So why not start planning your next Disney-inspired meal or dining experience today? Read the full article

[dataglitch]

omg! thank you for answering the previous question about your sketches. to add on to that, how would your next step even look like? coming from a rough sketch to something quite detailed?

honestly if you have a time lapse to share, thatd be great.

thank you for your artwork!!! THEYRE AMAZING.

Here's a time lapse of one of my Roddy images:

I'm gonna explain it a bit here so you know which steps do what:

Sketch: just a quick reference, nothing too fancy.

Lineart: create the lineart. I like to use a good mix of thin/bold lines.

Base: select background > invert > fill to a layer below your lines. This is just a base, you can choose whichever color you want, doesn't matter since all the top layers will just clip through.

Flats w/ gradient: color your flats, choose 'clipping group' so they clip to your base. With this I also like to use different gradients per color(reds with orange/yellow with purple/etc), so play around and see what works!

Shadows: as my previous tutorial, I use a light purple and light tan color > set layer to multiply, create your shadows. I also like to use a light blue color for extra shading.

Background: create your background, pretty self explanatory.

Color Lines: color your lines depending on the flats, I play around with shades usually.

BG Atmosphere: I added the sand effects so the cape would 'disappear' into the background.

Hard highlights: I wanted hard sunlight to hit the subject, so I used yellow and blue(mainly white) and set it to 'luminosity', and went ham. I usually used a textured brush when drawing it.

Front effects: added the dust in the front and other atmosphere effects.

PS Edits: the usual color balance/levels/blur/sharpen/channels.

Last Lighting: added biolights, eyes, and last armor lighting.

That's pretty much the usual process to most my images, so hopefully this paints a better picture :D

[romanticsims]

hi love! i legit just found your page yet i'm absolutely BLOWN AWAY by your edits, oh my gosh :O i love the gif you posted about your editing process and i was wondering if you'd be willing to post the different pictures in it side by side so i could more easily see the process? if that's too tedious that's totally okay and i completely understand :) thank you for reading dear, have a great day!! <3 (the post i'm talking about is post/683152127057641473)

Hello anon!

Thank you so much for the kind words! I’m so happy you like my edits and are interested in the process (truly my favorite thing to talk about)

I’m gonna number each part of the process, I tend to save a picture after I think I made significant enough changes and then continue so idk how organized this will be but I’ll happily upload a progress video of another edit if you or others are interested! Also for reference, I edit mostly in Procreate

1. Picture one is the render fresh from Blender! I immediately notice clipping issues I wanna fix and elements from the Sims that didn’t translate well into blender (like her nose and lip presets)

2. This shot is after I brought it into Photoshop and used my basic actions (topaz clean, smart sharpen, and camera raw filter). This is also where I separate the subject from the background for easy editing, and blur the background (I usually use tilt and field blur, I also added motion to this one since she’s in a bustling city)

3. I’m in Procreate now and use the start (and early motivation and excitement) to get the fixing work done. Smoothing the harsh lines of the clipping with the smudge tool and parts of her face that don’t look right with Liquify

4. The fun parts begin and I get started on drawing the hair (I also smudge the hair underneath to blend better with the hair I draw on) and begin pulling colors from her skin and drawing on top of them with a noise brush for texture. I made some adjustments to the background and the lighting as well since I was focusing on the skin and wanted the lighting just right

5. This was when the skin got FUN because I added the blushing and started really going ham on the cheek bones and her freckles. Fixed her features some more with liquify and really made sure the hair blended with the background as I drew a lot of it in myself. (At this point in the process I was both so in love with her and so fucking tired I knew I should stop before I went too far lol)

6. And then the final adjustments were made! I use Curves at the start, then I move on to using a Gradient Map to adjust contrast, and my favorite parts are using blurs and Ambient Occlusion to really make everything blend seamlessly. I love adding fog to my shots, it blends the subject with the background and really adds a more natural touch to the setting. I color the fog to match the mood, in this case a very desaturated blue. Final touch is sharpening the image and adding noise for that real picture effect I love. (Both the background and the subject get different levels of noise as well)

I don’t know for sure but I believe the time it took to finish her took about 5 hours total, and I hope this gives some insight into what I do! I’d be happy to answer any more editing questions, it’s truly my favorite part! Thank you again for reaching out and I hope you have the best day too! You definitely made mine ☺️

[bitegore]

11, 33, and 55 for the spotify thing

11 - A Salesman's Guide to Non-Existence by Thank You Scientist

this song makes me lose my mind. the lyrics absolutely make me insane. it's great. "go on, i've given up on you, do what you will" at high tempo. every time i listen to it i sit here gnashing my teeth and then write depressing fanfiction about transformers. it's so good. plus the sounds are like. they are so many sounds. every three lines there's a different sound despite the overarching consistent melody and stuff. i love when music never stays the same.

and the KEY CHANGE in the CHORUS it makes me INSANE!!! it's so good! it goes from down to up but it's not!!! it's not happy it's so bitter!!! and i eat it the fuck UP

33 - Machinehead by Bush

I looked this song back up this year for nostalgia reasons, because my parents both used to like it and I couldn't remember how it went. It's, like, it's fine. It's a pretty good song. Not terribly standout but it's not bad.

55 - Son Of A Serpent by Thank You Scientist

SPEAKING OF SONGS THAT HAVE LYRICS THAT MAKE ME INSANE. I actually should have this one higher on this list but I started listening to it on my youtube playlist first and so its been split across platforms but this song absolutely makes me lose my fucking mind.

like okay so on the face of it the lyrics are really depressing its like "i ruin everything and fuck it all up and i am making my own life miserable and how much more can i lose" but its?? its NOT like. its absolutely a "nowhere to go but up" anthem but it's not fucking shlocky or whatever.

like this shit

But I'm sure there's a place To bury the old me and start anew Tired of the things I put me through How much can I lose?

this shit HITS

and fucking . THESE TWO played against each other, these verses!!! i lose my mind!!!

so this is the first verse

Crash and burn Witness to the nightmare Tables turn It's a shake up You better know just what it's worth So many times, you were complacent Weakness starts to show

Constantly breaking Feel like letting, feel like letting go

AND THIS IS THE SECOND VERSE!!! LOOK!!!! LOOK!!!!!!!

Crash and learn Be prepared for consequence Tables turn Just make it up, make it up as you go As you go Don't care if it burns You just go

[points, gestures, points again] SEE? see what i mean??? im insane about it

and that doesnt even touch on like. the SONG. the MUSIC. its so GOOD these people do such interesting things with key changes midsong and it makes me absolutely nuts. i go absolutely ham for it.. i cant get enough. and so much just happens in their songs like they have so much flavor. so much texture. it's fantastic

[just-jammin]

I’ve seen you draw amazing fire many times, and I wanted to ask how do you draw fire?

ooooooh it’s tutorial time again, eh?

aight, this is a Sai tutorial, so if you use another program, uh idk it might be the same :/

anyway!

first, i just drew the outline for the fire. the lines should be sharp, yet flexibly flowing at the same time. idk how else to describe them—

then i filled it in with the flat colors! this time i opted for a yellow-orange color (and orange for the outline), but fire can be any color you like if it’s magical!

now for the glow. i added a new layer, set its blending mode to Luminosity, and just went ham on the Airbrush to make it glowy. since the airbrush i used is textured, i then Blurred the light-colored Airbrush stuff to make it seem more natural.

(i also made the bg gray in the process so that the glow can be seen easily)

to make it look more like fire, i added another Normal layer and did the same, except i mostly put the Airbrush (now in a darker color) inside the flame.

normally i’d be done at this point, but i thought, ‘why don’t i do more?’

so i added yet another Normal layer and repeated the process one more time, with a lighter color inside the darker Airbrush layer.

annnnnd i’m done!

i also did another tutorial on this, but that one’s outdated by now—

[apparitionism]

Why

I want to wish a very happy Gift Exchange Day to @mysensitiveside ​ ! This gift, a short and sweet AU, will keep on giving for a while, in that I wasn’t able to fling the whole thing across the finish line for you today. (No surprise, I’m sure, given my posting pace over the past... um... some time.) A second part will appear sooner rather than later, however, and I hope that the whole thing will be to your liking. Thanks of course go to @kla1991 for the organization of the whole  @bering-and-wells-exchange extravaganza... and I do just want to say that, as for my own reasons (reasons as such being quite relevant to this story), I still love Myka and Helena, and everybody in this bar, very much.

Why

“Why are you here?” Myka Bering asked of the dog she discovered in the hallway, gazing up at her, when she opened the door of her apartment one Saturday morning.

The dog blinked.

“Aren’t you Sam’s dog?”

The dog blinked again.

Things happen for a reason.

Myka had always been sure of that. So much so that it had shaped her idea of heaven: surely, the experience of paradise was nothing more, less, or other than finally being in possession of all the reasons.

When she was small, her “WHY?” refrain hadn’t distinguished her from her peers, but while most other children eventually gave up the incessant repetitions of that question, she never did. She discovered early on, however, that knowing whom to ask made an enormous difference in the quality of the answers she received: her mother’s exasperated “Because” was endlessly frustrating, as was her father’s equally unsatisfying “It’s magic.”

Which was why she became a research chemist, her choice of career happening for just that reason: it was always going to be a science of some sort, for the “why” questions—which she tended to ask internally now—had answers, if she put enough effort into finding them.

So it struck her as strange, that morning, to find herself asking “why” of a neighbor’s dog, out loud. The quality of any answer she got wasn’t likely to be high.

She had never seen the dog this dirty before. He... was it a he? maybe? she thought she’d heard “boy” at some point... had always seemed a little disheveled, his coat fluffed but lopsided, like he always slept on it wrong and nobody bothered with a comb. But never like this. Never with actual dirt.

She picked up the dog—he weighed less than she expected; she hadn’t realized how much of him was fur—and with some trepidation went to knock on Sam’s door.

No answer.

Myka took the dog back to her apartment. “Are you hungry?” she asked him. He blinked.

She had no idea what dogs ate, other than dog food, and she had no dog food.

She discovered that dogs ate several slices of cheese, a ham sandwich, a peanut butter sandwich, and a corn tortilla. Then dogs took a nap, no doubt exhausted from all the eating.

After numerous fruitless attempts at Sam’s door throughout the day, Myka called Mr. Nielsen, the super. “Sam moved out,” she was told. “Couple weeks ago. No forwarding address.”

“But I have his dog.”

“That’s nice of you,” Mr. Nielsen said.

“You don’t understand. I didn’t intend to have his dog.”

“Then maybe it isn’t nice. It’s not my problem either way.” He hung up.

Myka hadn’t liked Sam. He had asked her out, and she had said no, because he made her nervous. Anyone asking her out made her nervous, but this felt... different. She sensed she’d been right to turn him down, for he got visibly offended, in a way that made her even more nervous, such that she avoided him as much as possible afterward. He didn’t seem like a good person. But to move away and leave his dog behind?

She considered taking the dog to the animal shelter. What was she going to do with a dog? “What am I going to do with a dog?” she asked the dog in question. He blinked.

“I guess it’s you and me, dog,” she said after that Saturday turned into a weekend, the weekend into a week, one week into two.

And he looked at her as if to ask not “why?” but “what took you so long?”

She bought a leash. A bed. Actual dog food. So many products. “I’ve never shopped this much for myself,” she told him. She couldn’t decipher his blink in response to that information. Was it “But of course you should buy more for me” or “You should buy more for yourself”?

As it happened, he was a responsibility in ways she had not expected to enjoy. She had to leave work at midday, every day, to go home and walk him. She had that thing to do, and she did it. Her lab neighbor Abigail teased her about the dog being just an excuse to escape the lab, an excuse who probably didn’t even exist. “He’s real,” Myka protested. “I even had to come up with a name for him.”

Abigail laughed. “Sure you did.”

“Leukotriene.”

Pause. “Okay, now I’m convinced. Mostly. But I still want photo evidence.”

It hadn’t occurred to Myka to take a picture of the newly named Leukotriene, but she did so that night. She included a ruler in the photo for scale, lest Abigail mistake him for a Pomeranian, which was the breed—as far as Myka could tell, given her limited dog knowledge—he most resembled. The next day, “That’s him,” she said.

“Your dog.”

“I guess so.”

“He’s really... pretty.”

At home that night, she told him, “Abigail thinks you’re pretty.” He did the blink. “Yes,” she affirmed, “I do too.”

She shortened his name to “Leuko.” He didn’t seem to hate it. Then again, he wasn’t very vocal, positively or negatively.

She took him on walks, increasingly long ones, on the winding trails of the city’s largest park. She had never been a walker, but Leuko was... well, no: he was a trotter. A delighted, peppy trotter. Myka tried to match his bright energy, but she didn’t ever feel the same shine. It made her unaccountably happy, though, to see him that happy.

When she bathed him, he suffered it (no bright energy there), but she had a sense that he knew how impressive he looked when he was clean. His fluffy tan coat expanded into even greater glossy magnificence, an invitation to sink fingers in, and it rewarded the venture.

The best part, though, was when she would sit on the sofa, reading a journal or, less frequently, a novel, and he would lie against her, sighing as she rested her hand against his soft, warm body.

It was easy to forget that Sam had ever existed. Easy to sink into the belief that she and Leuko had always been a team. That this new texture of her life—this sneaky, responsibility-laden velvet—was a reality that had simply been held in abeyance until the right time. And now was that time.

One Saturday, as they walked in a nearly empty park, enjoying an early cold snap, Myka heard from a great distance an exclamation: “Monty!” She wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but suddenly her leash hand was empty, and Leuko was tearing across an open field, toward a solitary female figure, barking, making noise like he’d finally learned, or just remembered, that he had a voice.

Myka took off after him, drawing near at the moment he leapt—yes, leapt—into the woman’s arms.

She was striking, with dark eyes that rhymed with Leuko’s... in fact, she rhymed entirely with him, with his beauty. She looked up from him to Myka, those dark eyes widening, seemingly shocked to find another person present. “This is my dog,” she said, a little halting, as if she were trying the words out. Or as if she were coaxing them back into her mouth from far away.

Myka’s breath seized. “No,” she said, forcing the word out. “He’s my dog.”

“He is not. He’s mine. You can see it.”

Myka could see it. It drove ice in her heart to see it, to see him so ecstatic to see someone else, but it was there to be seen. It was there to be heard, too: Myka would never, she was sure, forget that declarative bark.

“He was lost for so long. How did you come to have him?” the woman asked, and Myka, trying to hide that heart-ice, explained about Sam. The woman said, shortly and with pain, “So that’s what happened.” She didn’t offer anything more, and while Myka wasn’t the most sensitive of souls, she could tell that this was not the sort of thing a stranger could ask any question about, not why or wherefore or anything at all.

A stranger. She was a stranger to both of them now, this woman and her dog, a stranger in their way, on the path in front of them—on a path she never should have been on in the first place. And if there was one thing Myka knew how to do, it was get out of the way.

She tried, mightily, to tell herself that that was what she should do: just step away. Let them carry on down the path. You didn’t have a dog before, and you were fine.

Leuko—Monty—looked at her from his perch in the woman’s arms. He blinked.

In response to that, Myka found herself babbling, “Can I... I mean, would you maybe let me... walk him sometime? Because he and I. I mean, or maybe just me. I. I’ll miss... it all.”

“I’m disinclined to let him out of my sight,” the woman said, with seeming care.

Myka didn’t have to ask why. “I don’t mean alone,” she said. “Just to see him.”

The woman looked at the dog in her arms. Did he blink? Whatever he showed her, it was enough. “All right,” she said. “Next week?” At Myka’s nod, she continued, “I should introduce myself. I’m Helena Wells.”

Myka understood even that was a matter of trust. “I’m Myka Bering,” she said, “and let me give you my number so you—”

“I’d rather not,” Helena Wells said, with the same care.

Not overmuch trust. “I can bring you what I bought for him,” Myka said, and maybe it was a flail to show that Helena Wells did not need to doubt her intentions. “If you want.”

“Thank you, but I still have all his things. Always holding out hope.” She said that with a quirk of her lip that Myka envied. Hope—what was it?

But of course Helena Wells had held out hope. Even after Myka’s own short time with Leuko—Monty—she would have done the same thing. Had he suddenly been gone, had she not known why.

The next Saturday morning, Myka spent some time pondering a very strange question: what do you wear to walk your ex-dog with someone who probably wants to forget that you exist?

The relief Myka felt when Helena and Leuko—Monty—appeared... it nearly felled her. There he is, she thought, and he’s all right. Not that she had expected anything different, but it was a relief. After a week she had not understood as a ratcheting up of anxiety, she at last felt relief.

They walked, side by side, Leuko—no, Monty—leading the way, shining even more brightly than Myka had known he could. “I didn’t intend to have your dog,” Myka started. “I didn’t mean to keep him... I mean, to keep him from you. The super can testify to the timeline, and I—”

“It’s all right,” Helena said. “I see that.”

“But I’m trying to tell you why this happened.”

“It doesn’t matter why. He’s here, and I told you, it’s all right.”

“Of course it matters! You’d care if I did try to steal him.”

“But you didn’t,” Helena said, and her words were gentle. “You cared for him. You didn’t have to.”

That left Myka strangely perplexed, because now, in retrospect, what else could have happened? “Of course I did.”

And Leuko—no, Monty—looked up at her, and he did the blink, and Myka knew what it meant: “Of course you did.”

Meeting, walking. They fell into a regular Saturday-walk schedule. As the weeks progressed, Myka’s anxiety gave way to, made room for, anticipation. Leuko—Monty—never barked when he saw Myka, but he did pull on the leash as she approached and gave her a nuzzle when she knelt to greet him.

“Why did you name him Monty?” Myka asked, one Saturday.

That made Helena smile. “I didn’t. His breeder did.”

“His breeder?”

“He’s a Mittelspitz.”

“He’s... a medium? A medium spitz?” Well, that explained his looking like a Pomeranian.

“Precisely.”

Myka felt dim. “But what does that have to do with being called Monty?”

“Nothing, as far as I know. The breeder named his litter after the stars of A Place in the Sun; he’s Montgomery Clift. His sister is Shelley Winters, and his brother is Elizabeth Taylor.”

“His brother? Why?” Myka really did try to limit the asking of that question out loud, but this seemed extra-justified.

“He’s even more beautiful than Monty.”

Did Monty the Mittelspitz turn his head and harrumph at such blasphemy? Myka surely was imagining that. He must have just seen a squirrel. “Poor Shelley Winters, though,” Myka said.

Helena laughed... and Myka felt that she should name that laugh “Elizabeth Taylor” as well. Helena said, “No, no, she’s pretty too. A remarkably lovely litter, and in fact Shelley was the only one who was show quality. If beauty were all it took, Liz would have ruled the circuit.” Another harrumph. “Don’t pout, darling,” Helena said to the dog, then to Myka, “Why did you name him Leuko?”

“After a peptide,” Myka admitted. “Well, a group of peptides.”

“A peptide.”

That was an implicit “why,” and Myka was strangely comforted. “I’m a chemist,” she said.

“A chemist.” Helena furrowed her brow. “How funny that I didn’t know that. How have we not got around to professions?”

Myka wanted to say, “Because when we get close to anything about our real lives, one or both of us backs away.” They still had no contact outside the park, and even as they shared and deepened this strange long-walk familiarity, Myka did not know where the line was. Had it shifted? If not, would it ever? She tried, very cautiously, “I don’t know. Will you... will you tell me yours?”

“I teach writing.”

For some reason, Myka couldn’t hold back her next question, even though it was not justified: “Why?”

“I have knowledge and expertise to impart. Due to having studied writing. And having made a living in the past as a writer myself.”

“That’s a good reason,” Myka said, and she thought, That’s more than you’ve said about yourself in weeks of walks. Was something different about this day?

“Thank you. Though I may not need your imprimatur, I’m pleased to have it.”

Was she... teasing? “I like good reasons,” Myka tried to explain.

“Good reasons. Recognizing them is not inapplicable to the craft of writing.” Helena said this with a funny little bow of her head.

Myka’s facial capillaries flooded with blood.

She knew why, but she hid the answer in her heart, for she remembered all too well Helena’s desolate “So that’s what happened.”

On one of their earlier walks, they had run into Abigail. “How’s little Leukotriene?” she asked. “Or I guess he’s not so little. That’s weird; I thought he was a Pom.”

Myka resisted the impulse to remind her of the ruler in the photo.

The next day, “Who’s your girlfriend?” Abigail asked.

It was the first time Myka really registered that she had continued her habit of going home in the middle of the day. To no purpose at all, she went home, stood in her kitchen, ate a sandwich that no one else wanted any of, and then went back to the lab. It was not a responsibility anymore, and it did nothing for her. She resolved to stop.

“Not my girlfriend,” Myka said, but she was appalled at herself: for a rash moment, she had wanted to let Abigail believe otherwise.

“Walking your dog with her?”

“Not my dog.” On that point, of course, Myka wished she could let herself believe otherwise.

“Pretty sure the dog matched that picture you showed me.”

“He’s her dog.”

“You were trying to pass your girlfriend’s dog off as yours?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. And he was my dog... for a minute.”

Walking in the park every week was not a responsibility. It was a reward.

And as Myka enjoyed her reward, each week, she studied Helena’s face, listened to her words. She tried to tell herself she was merely continuing to assess Helena’s relationship with Leuko. No: Monty. And she was doing that... but she was doing so much more.

How much could Myka continue to hide in her heart? And for how long?

As if in answer, the Saturday following their “professions” discussion, Helena (and Leuko—no, Monty) failed to appear. Myka, desolate at the absence of them both, walked by herself. It was terrible.

The park was empty of them the following week as well. Still, Myka walked, taking the isolation as her punishment for having misunderstood lines and crossing them, for having been so foolish as to let any part of her secret heart show on her face.

The aftermath of that second lonely walk left Myka restless, anxious. Should she try to find Helena and ask her why she had so abruptly decided against... whatever they were doing? Could she then beg her to reconsider walking a dog together to no purpose? “I’ll stop wanting anything more than that,” Myka thought to tell her. “I promise.”

But of course trying to find her was out of the question; if Helena didn’t want even to walk with Myka, she surely didn’t want to be stalked by her.

So Myka did the only thing she could do: the next Saturday, she returned again to the park. And she hoped.

TBC

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

“Panorama Helsinki / Finland - Dom und Parlamentsplatz“ by  tap5a  

“We only do this for Fergus!” is a short Outlander Fan Fiction story and my contribution to the Outlander Prompt Exchange (Prompt 3: Fake Relationship AU: Jamie Fraser wants to formally adopt his foster son Fergus, but his application will probably not be approved… unless he is married and/or in a committed relationship. Enter one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp (Randall?) to this story) @outlanderpromptexchange

Chapter 6: Absence. The state of not being physically present (2)

           When Claire turned around, she looked into the face of Mrs. Curtius.

           "Claire, I understand that you are queasy about this task. I know how much Mr. Fraser loves his son and ... now you have the responsibility for Fergus. It's not easy. But I assure you, we will support you in everything."

           The housekeeper gently put her arms around Claire and huged her.

           When they had disengaged from each other again, Claire replied:

           "You're right. It's like he put a 100-carat-diamond in my arm and said, 'Take good care of it!" However, this little diamond is very much alive and not always controllable ..."

           Mrs. Curtius smiled.

           "That's very much to the point. Believe me, the last time I had to watch him, I didn't breathe a sigh of relief either until Mr. Fraser came back."

           The two women looked at each other for a moment, smiling. Then Mrs. Curtius continued:

           "Will you come with me to the kitchen? I have to prepare breakfast for the security people, and if you'd like, you can join me for a cup of coffee?"

“Kitchen” by shadowfirearts

           Claire nodded and followed the housekeeper. She had been living in the house for a few months, but until now she had never had a chance to talk to the housekeeper in a quiet and detailed way. Shortly thereafter, she sat on one of the raised counter stools at the kitchen counter in front of a steaming cup of coffee, watching Mrs. Curtius prepare huge portions of scrambled eggs and fried ham in large cast-iron pans. It looked as if the housekeeper had never done anything else, so easy seemed her work. She was a joy to watch and Claire suddenly wished she had similar skills. She followed the individual steps with interest, noting also how easy it seemed for the housekeeper to carry on a conversation on the side.

           Claire had already emptied her second cup of coffee when, at 6:40 am, the alarm on her smartphone reminded her that she had to wake Fergus in twenty minutes. She thanked Mrs. Curtius, then set the dining room table for Fergus and herself.

           The day went almost exactly as she had expected. After breakfast, she took Fergus to school, accompanied by two bodyguards. Afterwards, she lay down again to catch up on some lost sleep. Around noon, she picked up the boy from school, again accompanied by two bodyguards.

           At lunch with Fergus, she watched him closely. But the little curly-haired boy was bright and chipper as ever. After a short break, they set about doing his homework together. An hour later, Claire noticed his concentration waning. She suggested they take a nap now. When they got to Fraser's apartment, she showed the boy that she had set up in the guest room for herself and that if he woke up during the night, he would find her there.

           "Where's Papa today?" asked Fergus, to Claire's surprise.

           "Today and tomorrow your Papa is in Iceland. He should have arrived by now, he may even be in his first meeting. But we'll find out when he calls us tonight."

“Island - Green Rush” by KarinKarin

           "Are you taking a nap too, Claire?"

           "No, or I won't be able to sleep tonight. I'm going to sit here in the living room and read some more. And when I wake you up, we can play a game together."

           "What kind of game?"

           "It's a surprise."

           Fergus gave her a slightly annoyed look and rolled his eyes.

           "Ooch Claire!"

           "No way! There are two surprises today. But not until there's time."

           A little reluctantly, Fergus crawled into his bed. Claire handed him the little beige bear that Jamie had purchased at a Swedish furniture store and brought back for the boy from his last business trip. Clearly, "Stuffy" had become Fergus's favorite stuffed animal. Claire closed the window blinds. Then she stroked Fergus's hair once more.

          "Sleep now. You still have a lot of growing to do. That's sometimes exhausting and you need time to rest every now and then. I'll wake you up later and after tea we'll play. I promise."

          Quietly she closed the door of Fergus' room. When she reached the hallway, she stood indecisive for a moment. Then she checked the door to the stairs again. It was locked. Good, she wouldn't have to worry about that anymore. Claire decided to take a little tour of the rooms on Fraser's floor. To the right of Fergus' room was the library, which also served as Fraser's study. From Fergu's room and from the library, one could access a narrow balcony on the south side of the house. But this balcony was very rarely used. A window also led out to the garden from the side of the room used as a library.

“Library” by moritz320

          Claire closed the door behind her. On the left side of the hallway now followed the door to the stairs and then an open space  - open to the hallway with a window facing the west side of the house. She stopped for a moment and looked at it. I wonder what it was for? What reason had there been for not providing another room here? She took a few steps to the window. From there she could look down to the street in front of the house. Once again she looked around. What sense this free space should have, she did not understand, but she took it upon herself to ask Jamie about it. On the right side now followed Fraser's private living room, which was also called the 'fireplace room'. She passed it and reached the door to the guest room on the left, where she had made herself comfortable for the time of Fraser's absence.           Then she stood in front of Fraser's bedroom. She looked for the matching key on the key ring he had given her, opened the door and turned on the light. What Claire saw next amazed her. While most of the rest of the house was modern and decorated in bright colors, she now had the impression of having entered a museum. The focal point of the room was a four-poster bed made of dark wood. The bed was the size of a marriage bed and clearly came from another century. She estimated that it dated from the beginning or middle of the 18th century. Two antique chairs stood in front of a large window whose view led out into the garden. To the right, Claire spotted a table with a mirror that was clearly the forerunner of what was called a 'dressing table' in the present time. On the opposite wall was a narrow, tall chest of drawers, richly carved. At the foot of the bed had been placed a chest whose iron fittings indicated that it was much older than any of the other pieces of furniture. Claire ran her hands over the wood and over the hardware. From its shape and texture, the chest appeared to be at least one hundred years older than everything elese in this room. All of the furnishings were crafted of dark wood. The only other color in the room was blue. This was the color of the wallpaper, as well as the bedding. As Claire looked more closely at the wallpaper, she realized that it only gave the impression of being as old as the furniture. A layman would certainly not have noticed the difference, but Claire had spent too much time at her Uncle Lambert's side, and as the niece of the noted Oxford historian, she noticed the difference immediately. This wallpaper was a very accurate reproduction of a wall painting that was at least two to three centuries old. But why did a man of Fraser's age have wallpaper made that showed such a wall painting? Was he desperate for wallpaper that matched the antique furniture in his bedroom? And why had he furnished his bedroom with furniture of this type in the first place? Slowly, she walked around the large bed until she came to a stop in front of the nightstand on the side where Fraser was obviously sleeping. Next to a bedside lamp, which was of more recent date but also in antique style, was a book. On the dark blue cover was written in white letters "The Complete Poems of John Donne." Without thinking further, she reached for the book and was about to open it. Then she saw that there was a bookmark sticking out of the top of the book. She opened the book at that point and read:

That Time and Absence proves Rather helps than hurts to loves

ABSENCE, hear thou my protestation            

   Against thy strength,            

   Distance and length:            

Do what thou canst for alteration,        

   For hearts of truest mettle          

   Absence doth join and Time doth settle.    

Who loves a mistress of such quality,            

   His mind hath found            

   Affection's ground    

Beyond time, place, and all mortality.  

   To hearts that cannot vary  

   Absence is present, Time doth tarry.          

My senses want their outward motion            

   Which now within    

   Reason doth win,      

Redoubled by her secret notion:        

   Like rich men that take pleasure    

   In hiding more than handling treasure.        

By Absence this good means I gain,  

   That I can catch her              

   Where none can watch her,            

In some close corner of my brain:      

   There I embrace and kiss her,        

   And so enjoy her and none miss her.

 That Time and Absence proves

Rather helps than hurts to loves

ABSENCE, hear thou my protestation            

   Against thy strength,            

   Distance and length:            

Do what thou canst for alteration,        

   For hearts of truest mettle          

   Absence doth join and Time doth settle.    

Who loves a mistress of such quality,            

   His mind hath found            

   Affection's ground    

Beyond time, place, and all mortality.  

   To hearts that cannot vary  

   Absence is present, Time doth tarry.          

My senses want their outward motion            

   Which now within    

   Reason doth win,      

Redoubled by her secret notion:        

   Like rich men that take pleasure    

   In hiding more than handling treasure.        

By Absence this good means I gain,  

   That I can catch her              

   Where none can watch her,            

In some close corner of my brain:      

   There I embrace and kiss her,        

   And so enjoy her and none miss her.

           In the second paragraph, all the lines had been underlined with a pencil. Once again, she quietly read the entire poem. It was not unfamiliar to her. Her uncle had owned a complete edition of John Donne's works. But it did surprise her a little to find such a book on James Fraser's bedside table. And why had he underlined that verse? Was there a woman in Fraser's life after all? Claire took a deep breath, then closed the book and put it back the way she had found it. Once again she looked over the bed. Then she carefully stroked the covers and looked around. A door contrary to the bed led from Fraser's bedroom into his bathroom. Claire looked through the open door, but did not enter. This room too, was held in blue and withe. She left the room, locking the door behind her.

           When it was time for tea and she went to wake Fergus, she found the boy playing in his bed.

           "Do I get my surprise now?" asked Fergus firmly.

           "Now first there's cocoa for you, tea me, and fresh sandwiches for both of us."

           "Oh yes!"

           A moment later, when hunger and thirst were satisfied, Claire removed a box from a burlap bag.

“A game of Settlers of Catan” by Yonghokim - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=77327301

           "What's this?"

           "It's a game, it's called 'The Settlers of Catan' and there are many versions of it. This is the edition that fits your age and look what this is on the box."

           "It's a parrot. He's wearing a pirate tricorn and he's got a map in his claws."

           "You did a good job of recognizing that," Claire praised the bright boy.

           "Yes, I know parrots from the zoo. In Dresden. I've been there with Papa. The zoo is huuuuuuge!"

           Fergus stretched his little arms as far apart as he could - to make it clear to Claire that the zoo was really ‘huuuuge’.

           Claire nodded with a smile. Then she unpacked the game and explained the rules to Fergus.

           After 40 minutes, they had finished the first round of the game.

           "Well, shall we play another round?"

           "Do we have that much time? When is Papa going to call?"

           "Yes, we still have quite a bit of time. Your Papa can't call until after dinner, and before that there's another surprise for you."

           "Another surprise?"

           "Yes, but not until after dinner."

           Fergus rolled his eyes while Claire rearranged the game pieces.

           When they finished the second round as well, Claire let the boy play with his train set some more while she went into the kitchen to help Mrs. Curtius set the dinner table.

           After dinner and a shower afterwards, Claire took Fergus to his room.

           "Do I get my second surprise now?"

           "Yes, you little rascal, but you'll have to move aside to get it."

           Fergus made room and Claire sat down next to him on the bed. Together they sat leaning against the wall of the room when Claire pulled out her tablet and asked:

           "Do you know 'The Show with the Mouse,' Fergus?"

           "No, what is it?"

           "The mouse is a cartoon character and there are shows with the mouse for kids on TV."

           "No, I haven't seen that yet. Papa doesn't like me to watch too much TV. Are we going to watch a show like that now?"

“Children and The Mouse at the WDR broadcasting studio” at the launch of the first podcast episode -  Von Superbass - Eigenes Werk, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=84390983 Source: Von Superbass - Eigenes Werk, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=84390983

           "No, but the mouse also has a podcast for some time, a kind of radio show, and that's where the mouse tells goodnight stories."

           "Oh really?"

           "Yes, and tonight and every night as long as your Papa is on his business trip, we'll listen to one of those good night stories."

           "Aren't you going to read to me from our book?"

           "No, we'll do that when your Papa gets back. Otherwise he'll miss so much, won't he?"

           Fergus nodded in agreement, then asked:

           "What story are we going to hear tonight?"

           Claire tapped on her tablet and the page 'Goodnight with the Mouse' came up. She pointed to it and read aloud:

           "Today we're going to listen to a program about trees - with forest workers at work, a tree in the rainforest, and, of course, the mouse. Are you ready?"

           Fergus nodded and Claire pressed the button.

             The last chords of the podcast's closing music had just faded away when that familiar sound announcing an incoming video call was heard.

           "Papa! It's Papa for sure!" exclaimed Fergus excitedly.

           Claire opened the app and moments later Jamie appeared on the screen. He too smiled when he saw Fergus and Claire. Fergus waved enthusiastically and Jamie waved back.

           "How are you, Papa," Fergus asked.

           "I'm fine and how are you?"

           A stream of information immediately poured out of Fergus' mouth, starting with today's experiences at school, to the new game he had tried with Claire, to of course listening to 'The Show with the Mouse' together, from which he had learned many new things about trees.

           Jamie followed his son's report with great interest. He wanted to ask something, but before he could, he was bombarded with questions by the boy. Witty, but at the same time careful and descriptive, Fraser tried to answer his son's questions.

           Twenty minutes later they said goodbye to each other and Fraser promised, if he had the chance, to call again the next evening.

           Claire wrapped Fergus in his bedclothes, stroked his hair, and gave him a light kiss on the forehead.

           "Sleep well, Fergus. If anything is, you know I'll either be in your father's living room or the guest room. There's a bottle of water next to your bed and I'll leave that little string of lights on."

           "Hmmm."

           "Good; I'll see you in the morning then."

           Claire turned to go.

           "See you in the morning. ... Claire?"

           "Yes, Fergus?"

           "Thank you for the nice day."

           Once again, Claire walked back. Smiling, she looked at the child and stroked his head once more.

           "I was happy to do that for you."

           Then she left, closing the door behind her. She stood listening for a moment longer, but all remained quiet in Fergus' room. Claire looked down the hall, considering for a moment how to spend the rest of the evening. Then she made the decision to sit and read in Fraser's living room for a while longer. When she entered the room, it was still warm, although there were only embers glowing in the fireplace. Claire glanced at the small round side table that stood near the small seating area in front of the fireplace and held a selection of Fraser's whiskeys. It was tempting to help herself to it, and Fraser wouldn't have minded, she knew. But the responsibility she bore for Fraser's son held her back. Claire had just sat down in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace when the tablet she was still holding reported the arrival of another skype call. She opened the app, and to her surprise, Jamie appeared on the screen.

[lu-undy]

Valentine’s day 5 - Alternate Universe

My choice went to have Lucien be a baker in Paris while Mundy is visiting the city with his parents!

Here it is on AO3!

"Micky, please tell your mum I'm starvin'."

"Mum, Dad's starvin'." Mundy's head swung from left to right.

"Micky, tell your Dad that I'm done with this cathedral now and we can get some lunch."

Both father and son cheered as they exited the impressive Cathédrale Montmartre. 

It had been a few days now that the Turner family had travelled from their native Australia to Paris, France. After years of saving, the farmers and the hunter managed to gather the amount they needed to take some very well earned holidays and see a part of the world that Caroline, the mother, had always dreamt of visiting. 

And it was Mundy, the son, now close to forty years old, who had suggested the idea of the trip. In his line of work, travelling was usual and he had seen a few places, and a lot of species already. He knew that his mother had always dreamt of seeing the City of Lights and so, he pushed for the idea to become a reality. 

At first his parents thought it was way out of what they could afford not only financially, but physically. They were getting close to their seventies! But Mundy insisted and told the tale of a lot of his patrons who were that age and older, yet still roaming the world. 

Caroline and Mike, mother and father, eventually accepted the idea, and Mundy worked extra shifts in pubs, playing the saxophone in some bands here and there, to add a few notes in the piggy bank. 

There they were now, the three of them, in the capital of romance. The cathedral they had just visited was on the top of a hill from which they could see the entire city of Paris splayed out and spread in le Bassin Parisien, the valley in which the capital was planted. It was easy to distinguish the business district with its towers of black and blue-ish glass, from the more residential or commercial areas. The Eiffel tower obviously pointed to the sky further away. 

Mundy had turned out to be the official photographer for the trip. He just enjoyed seeing the delight on his parents' faces and took pictures of them doing absolutely anything. They had never travelled much and he wanted them to have physical memories of it. On some pictures, they were pointing at a monument, on these ones, they were trying to decipher the names of the streets with a map wide open under their eyes, or just sitting on a bench and enjoying a cone of ice cream. Yes, it was July and peak summer in France, which was quite a surprise for the Aussies, but a welcome one. They all preferred hot and sunny weather, and were used to it.

"Let's try this bakery maybe?"

Caroline pointed at a reasonably small shop. The front of it was Burgundy red with the name shining in golden letters. 

"Chez Lucien". 

[Lucien's.]

Mundy pushed the door and let his parents through. The jingle of a bell rang and immediately after, a wave of delicious smells washed their lungs and made their mouths water even more. 

"Bonjour." The baker greeted them. "Que puis-je faire pour vous?"

[What can I do for you?]

"Bonjour." Mundy tried his best accent. "Do you speak English?" 

"Oui, I do." The Turner family sighed in relief. They were now used to communicating in sign language but finding someone who could understand even a bit of English was just their luck. "How may I help you?" The baker answered with more than a hint of a French accent. 

"Just give us a second, son. I mean look at all these good things, the smell's amazin'!" Mike said, his eyes running through the sandwiches, the quiches and pastries. 

"Merci. Will it be to eat here?”

“Yeah, think so.” Mike answered.

“In that case, you may make yourselves comfortable at a table.” The baker suggested.

Mundy noticed there were only two tables inside and one on the pavement. They relieved themselves of their backpacks and came back in front of the glass. 

“Do take your time and don't hesitate to ask me if you need me to explain anything." 

"Thanks, mate." Mundy answered.

Caroline held Mike's arm dearly as they chatted and pointed at sandwiches here and there behind the glass. Mundy gave them a bit of space and had a look at the desserts. 

The colours beckoned his eyes. Red strawberries, all the shades of brown chocolate, white sugar, green pistachio, orange apricot tarts, yellow lemon ones. And the textures looked very different too. Mundy wished he could try a few. 

And what a powerful yet pleasant mix of smells. The smell of hot flour was drowning Mundy entirely. As he raised his eyes and looked behind the baker, bread of different shapes, sizes and colours were neatly arranged in wicker baskets. It was impressive. 

"What's this one, son?" Mike asked, pointing at a sandwich. 

"This has goat cheese, salad, and a drop of mustard with honey." The man in the white apron answered, and Mike and Caroline nodded. "Do you have any dietary requirements maybe? That might help you make the choice easier."

"Mike here has to watch out for sugar and cholesterol." Caroline said.

"Bah, I'm fine." Mike answered. 

"Mike, the doctor said to watch out…! Micky, tell your Dad…!"

"Dad…" Mundy started. 

"C'mon son, don't side with your mum! Men's solidarity!" 

The baker smiled. 

"I can recommend a classic French one, if you want a full French experience." He suggested. 

"Sure!" Mike answered. "We haven't come all the way from home to stop at sugar and cholesterol!" 

"In that case, I would suggest the classic jambon-beurre." 

"John what?" Mike repeated. 

"Jambon-beurre." The baker said. "Ham and butter. Now, I can make one with a light butter and lean ham for you." 

"That sounds great, what d'you say Caroline?" Mike looked at his wife. "Can I get that?" 

"My father himself used to have those when his diet became more strict." The baker explained.

"Oh that's very kind of you." Caroline said. "Sure, go for that. I will have the goat cheese and honey one, I never tried that combination of flavours."

"Very well." 

Mundy had been watching the whole scene unravel before his eyes and was grinning. He was over the moon to see his parents so relaxed and enjoying their time. They had worked hard all their lives to provide for their only son and had rarely taken a holiday as significant as this. 

"And you, Micky?" 

"Huh?" 

Caroline's voice had broken her son's daydream. 

"Oh, uh, I'll get the ham and butter, the normal kind is fine for me." 

"Very well, give me an instant." The baker gathered his ingredients and a bread knife. He prepared the sandwich in front of his hungry clients as they watched him. 

Mundy found himself staring. The baker was a bit shorter than him by half a foot or so. He looked a bit older too. His temples were grey and his front tuft, which swung between his eyes as he cut the bread, was greying too. However, his eyes shone with a kind of vivacity, of life, that Mundy found made him younger than himself maybe. He had very light blue eyes with dark eyelashes - beautiful - a slightly hooked nose and thin lips. His hands were trained and used to his work as his efficiency showed, but Mundy guessed that he hadn't been a baker all his life. His fingers were too slim to have done manual work all their lives like his parents'. 

"I guess you are visiting France for the first time?" 

"Yeah, first time out of home since a long time, son." Mike answered.

"Where are you from, if I may?" 

"Australia." 

"Ooh, that is indeed a long way from home." The baker chuckled and Mundy saw a flash of his pearly white teeth. 

"Yeah, the wife's always wanted to come and see it here, y'know, with it bein' the city of romance and all…" Mike explained and he held his wife's hand dearly.

"But of course." The baker placed the sandwiches on a tray. "Will that be all for you today?" 

"Micky, ask your mum if we can get desserts." 

"You could ask me directly." Caroline answered. 

"Yeah but you'd say no to me, honey." 

Caroline rolled her eyes and smiled. 

"Fine, let us have a look at what you have, uh…?" Caroline adjusted her glasses, looking for a badge or anything to address the shop owner. His name was sewn on his apron, in black, cursive letters. "Lu…?"

"Lucien." 

"Ooh, original name. Sounds very French, beautiful!" Caroline said. 

"Thank you, Madame." Lucien bowed his head politely. "May I suggest the strawberry tart for Monsieur? It is mostly fruity and the dough has very little sugar. My most faithful customers do like it particularly." 

"Yeah, looks very good." Mike said enthusiastically. 

"I'll have one of these, uh…" Caroline pointed at the glass. 

"Oh, éclair au chocolat. Do you know what éclair means in French?" Lucien asked. 

"No?"

"It is a lightning bolt. As a child, my mother used to make me believe that they were called that way because of how fast I devoured them." 

"Ooh, that is sweet…!"

Lucien put the mini tart and the éclair on the tray.

"And for you, Monsieur?" He turned to Mundy, who blushed under the piercing gaze. 

"Oh, uh, I mean… Maybe one of these…?" 

"Cannelé, they are called, because of their shape. They are typical from the South-West of France, where I come from. Have you ever tried them?"

"No, why?" 

Lucien smiled. 

"They are rarely a tourist's choice." He simply answered. "Here for you. I recommend enjoying those desserts with some coffee. Pray take a seat, I shall bring you your tray."

"Oh, thank you, dear." Caroline said and the Turner family sat around the table. Lucien closely followed. He added a jug of fresh water and glasses.

"Enjoy your meal, or as we say here, bon appétit." Lucien bowed his head and left his customers to enjoy their meal.

"Mum? Dad?" Mundy was holding the camera and took a picture when they both bit in their sandwiches. "There we go." 

The Turners enjoyed their sandwiches and the fresh water. After all, it was summer and it was hot. Caroline reminded Mike to take his pills as usual and Mundy was sitting next to them. He loved his parents more than anything or anyone else and in truth, they were all he had. He had a few friends back in Oz, not a lot, but good ones. 

"Son?" Mike's whisper pulled Mundy out of his daydream. 

"Hm?"

"Can you please tell your mum to stop starin' at the baker like that."

"If I was a few decades younger…" Caroline whispered. 

"Yeah, well, if you were a few decades younger, you'd remember that ring on your finger maybe, eh?" Mike teased. 

"Mum, please… You're makin' it obvious…" Mundy nudged his mother's elbow gently. 

Lucien was behind the counter, leaning on the wall on his side and reading a newspaper. 

"C'mon, Micky, tell your Dad that he's handsome!" Caroline nudged her son back.

"Mum…!" He blushed.

"Yeah well, go and have sandwiches with him, then!" Mike answered. 

"Oh I would!"

"Caroline!"

"Mike!"

"Mum, Dad, please…!"

"Nah, son, I've seen her stare at enough guys here. Since the moment we landed here and now, her eyes jumped from bloke to bloke like a bee from flower to flower!"

"Not my fault that they all look so charming! And I didn't say anything when you stared at that young sheila in the short skirt in the cathedral…!"

"Well…" Mike blushed, ashamed. "I'm a simple man…!"

"Besides, I'm not the only one who's starin', Mike." 

"Hm?" 

Caroline nodded in direction of Mundy, for whom the whispers of his parents had dissolved in the air. He had eyes and ears only for that baker. God, his mother was right, he was handsome! 

Caroline was right on that people there in France were quite good looking and it made the journey all the more pleasant to the eye. 

"Micky?" Mike's voice pulled Mundy out of his staring. 

"Huh?" 

"Well, I can't tell you to stop cause you got a ring on your finger but uh… make it a bit more, y'know, discreet…?"

Mundy blushed beyond his ears and lowered his head. 

And that was the first encounter with Lucien, the baker. From that day on, the Turners would try to have their lunch there everyday. Caroline was the one to push for it. Not only did Lucien turn out to be an incredible guide for them, recommending good and inexpensive restaurants as well as little corners of paradise within Paris, but she could see the blush on Mundy's cheeks whenever Lucien talked to him. 

In the evenings, Mundy would take a stroll outside, to give his parents some space. He would walk in the streets of the city, under the lamp posts, letting his feet decide where he should go. More often than once, he found himself not far from the bakery. On one occasion, Lucien was smoking outside of his bakery, as the sky was still bright. Mundy was paralysed with fear. He wasn't supposed to be standing there! He was supposed to be in his shop, and then Mundy could casually look through the window as he passed it, maybe even wave if he made eye contact with him. Yeah, that all made sense, but not Lucien being outside and-!

"Bonsoir, Mundy, wasn't it?" 

[Good evening]

Mundy's blood froze. As he was panicking internally, his feet had continued walking until he was within a few feet from the baker. 

"Y-yeah, hi." 

"Do you smoke?" Lucien asked. 

"Yeah, I mean, sometimes." 

"Here." Lucien offered one of his cigarettes and Mundy accepted it. 

"Thanks, mate." 

"Come closer." 

Mundy blushed when Lucien closed the gap between them and lit his cigarette up. He closed his eyes and all he could feel was the smell of the Frenchman's cologne, mixed with pastries and fresh bread.

Gosh… He thought as he felt his insides melt. 

"Voilà." Lucien chimed as he put his lighter away. Mundy opened his eyes and he felt as if he had emerged from a dream to another one. Now, the ice blue eyes of the elegant man were on him. 

"Y-yeah, thanks, heh." 

"You like to walk at night?" Lucien asked as they both exhaled the bitter smoke.

"Yeah, it's nice and calm."

"And I guess it is your break from your photography duties?" The Frenchman chuckled. 

"What?"

"You are the one carrying the camera all the time, and taking pictures of your parents. Do you have any of you?" 

"Uh, yeah, we do have a few of all three of us together."

"I would be delighted to take more in my shop next time you have lunch here."

"Ah, thanks." 

They stayed in front of the shop and smoked in silence, watching the few people in the streets come and go. 

"Mundy?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I will soon close the shop. Would you like anything?" 

"Oh, uh, no, I'm fine, thanks." 

"Very well." Lucien put the cigarette between his lips and entered the bakery. Mundy wasn't sure he could or should follow him so he stayed on the threshold. He watched as Lucien disappeared through a door behind the counter. Soon after, the lights switched off in the shop and Lucien emerged. Mundy couldn't see him clearly in the dark but his silhouette stood out. 

"Very well. This is it for today." He said as he came out and locked the shop. "I could do with some good coffee, would you like to join me, perhaps? I know a quiet café." Lucien turned to Mundy who was staring at him. "Mundy?".

He had never seen the baker outside of his natural habitat and a bit like a schoolboy who couldn't imagine his teacher living outside of school, Mundy was taken aback. It turned out that underneath the apron was a white polo shirt and now a beige linen jacket, with a matching hat and trousers. 

"U-uh? Yeah? Sorry, you said somethin'?"

"You daydream a lot, hm?" Lucien chuckled.

"Sorry…" Mundy looked away and felt the heat of the embarrassment on his cheeks. 

"It is alright, I do like to daydream too." He smiled as Mundy raised his eyes to him and the Aussie immediately averted his eyes. Oof, that grin…! "But you haven't answered my invitation."

"Y-your invitation?"

"Oui, coffee, with me?"

"You sure? I mean, I guess you're tired after work and maybe you want to go back home to your family or see your mates…?"

"I don't have one or the other." Mundy's eyebrows jumped. "You and your parents are the closest I have got to having friends for a long time. So, what do you say? Un café avec moi?"

[A coffee with me?]

"Oh, uh, alright. I mean uh, oui?" 

Lucien smiled. 

"Très bien, follow me."

[Very well]

The Frenchman led the way through the streets.

"So you left Maman and Papa at the hotel?" 

"Uh, yeah. I try to give them some space. Mum's always dreamt to come here with Dad."

"Not with you?" Lucien asked.

"No, I didn't want it to sound so bad… I mean that she'd wanted to come here even before they found me."

"They… found you?" Lucien repeated as they took a turn. 

"Oh Gosh, I can't keep my mouth shut…" Mundy mumbled to himself. "Sorry, mate, I-I meant… Ugh… Nevermind." 

Lucien didn't insist. 

"Here is the café." He pulled the front door and held it open for his tourist friend. 

"Oh, thanks." 

And it lasted for a couple of weeks, the nights out, sometimes in a café, sometimes just a tour of a neighbourhood with an incredibly patient and passionate guide. 

"You like Paris quite a bit, eh?" Mundy asked under the dark blue sky lit by the Eiffel Tower. Lucien had taken him to the Champs de Mars, an open park just in front of the beautifully lit, iconic tower. They were both sitting on the grass.

"Believe it or not, I do not like it much."

"Really?"

"Oui."

"You know it well though, historical stuff and all."

There was a slight smile on the Frenchman's lips. 

"Oui, unfortunately so, for some part of it. Non, what I have come to appreciate about this city recently is how you like it."

"What?" Mundy asked, embarrassed and confused. Lucien chuckled. 

"You enjoy visiting Paris."

"Well, there's a lot of monuments to see, lots of history behind it, and it's a proper city. The Outback's very different."

"Tell me about it." 

They exchanged a glance and Mundy's throat tightened. He could see all the lights on the Eiffel Tower shimmer on the Frenchman's eyes, like stars in a clear blue sky. 

"Well… Uh…" Mundy looked left and right. "See everythin' around us?"

"Oui?"

"Imagine there's nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yeah, and imagine there's no grass but just orange dust."

"Hm…" Lucien looked keenly around him.

"Now add a few cacti, not too many, eh? And boulders. Just big rocks, basically."

"What shapes are they?" 

"Any weird shape you can imagine. They're a bit like clouds, if you stare at them, you start seeing that they look like stuff but they don't really…"

"Oh… And what shapes have you seen?" 

Mundy looked at Lucien sitting next to him. He had removed his hat and jacket. His polo shirt was white with dark blue stripes and he wore matching dark blue chinos trousers with beige loafers. Elegant, he was just so elegant…! What's more, he was lying on his side on the grass, resting part of his weight on his forearm, with one leg folded. Gosh…

"Uh… I usually see animals."

"What kind?"

"Sometimes, it's a gigantic wallaby, or a koala. But sometimes, it's stuff that doesn't even exist."

"Hm, like what?" 

Like you, Mundy thought. No one had taken the time to go out with him, take the time to know him, go to cafés and odd little bistrots with him. No one had ever listened to his life in the Outback, no one had ever asked. And certainly, no one had done all that and looked half as gorgeous as Lucien. It was to the point where Mundy struggled to maintain eye contact with him for long. He would sometimes cross Lucien's eyes and avert his gaze the split second after. His feline, light blue irises were too much to take, especially because each time Lucien graced him with a gaze, Mundy could feel a punch to his guts and the blood rush to his cheeks.

"I-I don't know, it's a bit silly…" He answered, blushing and looking down between his crossed legs. 

"Mundy…" 

He froze when he felt a finger under his chin, pulling it up. 

"Huh?" 

"Please, tell me." 

Gosh, not those eyes…! Oh and fuck it… Mundy couldn't refuse or ignore anything to those ice blue irises.

"Sometimes it's a mix of animals… Like something with the head of an owl, the body of a falcon, but legs like a wild cat. I know, it's ridiculous, ahem…"

"Non, not at all." Lucien answered and maybe it was all in Mundy's head, but he felt the Frenchman's index linger on his chin a bit before parting. The Aussie's jaw was electrified. "I find it poetic." 

"D-do you?" Mundy's surprise was so obvious, so naive that it made Lucien grin sweetly. The Aussie uncrossed his legs and let them flow in front of him.

"Oui." Lucien laid down and rested his head on Mundy's thigh. 

"Huh-?" Mundy gasped.

"Oh, am I weighing too much on you?"

"N-no, it's fine. I'm just-I'm just surprised, is all." The truth was that Mundy felt the heat in him surge as unexpectedly as Lucien lay on him. Was he just tired of holding his head on his palm? Was it friendly? Was it more? Was it a French thing?

"Hm. Look around you." Lucien said and Mundy did as he was told. It was the dead of night and not many people were out. "The city is almost empty. The Paris of the night is waking up and claiming the streets now." 

"The Paris of the night?" Mundy repeated. 

"Oui, people who shun the naked light of day because society shunned them first. Those are people whom morality and customs do not understand yet, people who are too free."

"What d'you mean?" 

"Look at the pavement there." Lucien pointed and Mundy saw a few women wearing short skirts. 

"Yeah?" 

"Do you see these women?" 

"Yeah."

"They are not women."

"What?" 

"They are not women in what is most commonly accepted as the definition for it. They need the cover of the night to exist as they want to. I find it tragic yet strongly inspiring." Lucien went on. "They need the blanket of the dark night sky to wear the dresses, skirts and make-up that they want. We are not too different from them, you and me."

"How? You wanna wear a dress now?" Mundy joked and Lucien chuckled, his head still using the Aussie's thigh as a pillow. 

"Non, we too are taking advantage of the night to be what the light of day prevents us from being."

Mundy's heart pounded in his chest. He was afraid he was understanding what Lucien meant, or maybe he wasn't at all and he was just hearing what the thin voice at the back of his head was whispering. 

"Huh?" 

"May I?" 

Mundy sweated. Lucien had taken his fingers in his. 

"Y-yeah, I think." 

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to force you - oh?" Lucien's eyebrows jumped and he then relaxed when Mundy pushed his trembling fingers shyly between his. Lucien held on to his hand dearly. "Mundy?" 

"Mh?" The Aussie was screwing his eyes shut hard and was trying to calm his pounding heart and the rush of blood through his body. 

"Merci." 

[Thank you.]

His eyes snapped wide. 

"What?" 

"I said thank you."

"For what?" 

"Everything." 

And that night, they stayed on the Champs de Mars all the way up until the sun showed its first rays of light. At that point, they were both lying on their backs. The wide lawn was their mattress and the early hours of the new day captured the murmurs of what no one else but them should know.

It lasted for weeks, enough to make a habit out of it and to make Mundy think that it could last forever. Unfortunately enough, the holidays were coming to an end and Australia was calling the Turners back. 

"You're not going out tonight? You should take a walk, Micky." 

In their hotel room, Caroline and Mike were talking to Mundy. 

"Your Mum's right, son. You could do with some fresh air."

"We spent our day outside. I'm tired."

Mike and Caroline exchanged a glance and went to the bathroom. 

"I'm tellin' you, Mike, we have to push him out." She whispered to her husband. "He's as sad he could be."

"Yeah, I know, I know… But you're absolutely sure it will do him good?"

"Mike, I'm a sheila. We feel those things. Look at him…" 

Caroline held the bathroom door ajar and Mike peeked through the slim opening. 

"Doesn't he remind you of someone?" She asked. 

"Hm. Yeah, course he does. Look at him lyin' on his bed, starin' at the ceiling. His body is here, his heart is elsewhere. He's exactly like me when I first met you, honey." Mike sighed. "Right, I'll get him out of this room. But you gotta help me." 

"Ok, what's the plan?" Caroline asked excitedly. 

"Follow me."

Mike took his wife by the hand and they exited the bathroom.

"Uh, Caroline, darl', d'you mind waitin' in the bathroom. This is guys' only talk." 

"Fine." 

Mike went to sit on Mundy's bed, next to him. 

"Look, son. Uh… Your mum and I… Uh… We could do with a couple of hours alone if you… uh… If that's ok with you…?" 

Mundy's eyes snapped wide and he sat up, looking his father in the eye and blushing. Mike was averting his gaze from his son, a bit ashamed. 

"Oh…" Mundy answered. "Right, fine, I'll uh… I'll go have a walk. I'll be back in a couple hours then. Sorry." 

"Good boy, no, no, don't apologise, it's fine." Mike said as Mundy put on his shoes and hat. "Take a bit of money with you and stay safe, eh?" 

"Will do. Thanks, Dad." 

"No, thank you, son."

Mundy exited the hotel and soon found himself in the streets. The sun was gently setting and the sky was orange with a few streaks of pink. The next day would again be very sunny.

Mundy didn't see it. His eyes were riveted on his shoes, his hands in his pockets, and his back hunched. He was in his own bubble and wanted to stay there, have some time alone to think. 

About what? The obvious, of course. He was about to leave Paris, to leave France, to leave Europe, the Northern Hemisphere. He was about to leave Lucien and hadn't told him the dreadful news yet. Why? Because he didn't know how to tell him, especially now…! 

Mundy sighed as he recalled the events of the previous night. They were on the quays of the Seine, the river that slithers through Paris. 

"You can see almost everything from this river, eh?" Mundy realised. 

"Oui, most monuments and important buildings you can see from here." 

"Impressive… Oh…" 

Lucien had slid his arm around Mundy's and his hand glided down until his fingers laced between the Aussie's. Mundy clenched his hand. He liked it way too much. Oh, hold on, maybe it was too much? He could feel his hand sweating…!

"S-sorry…" He pulled his hand off and wiped it nervously on his trousers. 

"There is no problem." Lucien took Mundy's hand again. He pulled it up to his lips and kissed it. 

"W-woah… Uhm…" 

Lucien chuckled. 

"You are such a delightful hint of the exotism I used to love…"

"What's that mean?" 

They stopped walking along the river banks. Lucien went to the edge and looked at the streamflow for an instant. He removed his loafers elegantly and rolled his trousers' ends up along his calves. Mundy blushed. Contrary to him, Lucien didn't have a tan and being lighter in skin tone than him, he appeared almost snow white compared to Mundy. The Aussie watched as Lucien sat at the edge and let his feet dangle down. They were in the water up to his ankles. Mundy copied him and they were soon sitting side by side, their feet in the river. 

Lucien leaned on Mundy's side and took his hand again. He held it dearly between both of his own. 

"Mundy?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You are leaving a strong impression on me." 

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"Y-you too." He removed his hat and leaned his head on Lucien's. 

Silence fell for a while. It was soothing, hearing just the lapping sounds of the cool water licking their feet and their breaths. 

"Lucien?" 

"Oui?" 

"Can I ask you somethin'?" 

"You just did, and yes you may." 

"How come you uh… I mean I don't want it to sound bad but… How come you spend all your nights with me? I mean, don't you have anyone waitin' at home? Family, friends? Even the weekends you spend with me. Y'know, it's ok if you wanted to not see me for a few days, I'd understand."

"I have very few friends. To be truly honest, I have none. The only person waiting for me back home is Perle." 

"Oh, who's that? Family?"

"Better than that, she is my cat." 

"Oh, you have a kitty?" 

"The best in the world." 

"What does she look like?" Mundy asked. 

"Look here, I have a photograph of her." Lucien took his wallet off of his inner pocket and retrieved a small rectangular picture. It wasn't much bigger than a stamp. He handed it to Mundy. 

"Oh, woah… Expensive she must be, eh. Gorgeous, long, snow white fur and light eyes, like you almost - huh, I mean…"

"Oui, she has blue eyes." Lucien simply answered. "You wouldn't know on the black and white picture. And I had no idea she was expensive, even though she is priceless to me."

"You didn't buy her off a shop or someone?"

"Non, I rescued her when she was a kitten, cold, shivering and skinny. Poor baby, she barely had the strength to mewl."

"Oh, woah…" Mundy handed back the picture and as Lucien stored it safely in his wallet again, the Aussie was devouring him with his eyes. 

"I raised her as best as I could and we understand each other pretty well. She is my little baby, or as I like to call her, mon petit bébé."

"Uh… I… I mean…" Gosh, words jangled and mixed in his head. He had found a man gorgeous as a God, patient with him, who respected his shyness, didn't take advantage of it, didn't force him to do anything and loved his cat? 

"Oui?" Lucien raised his fair eyes to Mundy and that didn't help the Aussie at all. His thoughts were broken, everything broke under those eyes. 

"Uh?" 

Lucien chuckled. 

"It is fine. You don't have to say anything." He leaned his head on Mundy's shoulder and held his hand. "What about you? Do you have any relatives besides your parents?" 

"Uh, no. It's just them and me. I got a few uncles and aunts. See them for Christmas with my cousins and their kids. And for the pets, we got a few dogs to keep the beasts away from the hens and geese. Mum has a cat too, Percy, he's black and white, with green eyes."

"What kinds of dogs?" 

"An Aussie shepherd and a border collie. Good girls they are. We had a few through the years but dogs don't live as long as we want them to, eh?"

"Indeed." 

"How old is your cat? What's her name again?"

"Perle, or for you, Pearl. She is now seven years old."

"Oh, a big girl." 

"A wise lady indeed. My only companion since… A long time." 

"Fair enough. Haven't had anyone to talk to for years too. I mean, apart from my parents."

"You don't have friends in Australia?"

"I do, yeah, but… Uh… Not like you." 

"Well I don't imagine you have bakers who have become part time tourist guides there, hm?" Lucien teased. 

"Nah, that's true. But uh, yeah, I mean… We've talked about anythin' for the past few weeks, right?" 

"Oh oui, from cacti, to desert, to wild animals, Australian beers, dishes, weather, slang…."

"Yeah, and now I feel like I know Paris almost better than where I come from!" Mundy chuckled. 

They looked in each other's eyes. 

"We indeed have had conversations about anything with baffling ease." 

"Yeah…" Mundy confirmed.

"Merci. It had been ages since I last felt such a pleasant connection with someone." 

"Same for me."

Lucien had looked up at Mundy and stared. The Aussie hadn't noticed that the Frenchman's pupils dilated as they sank from his lagoon blue eyes, down his long, straight nose, to his rough, thin lips. Mundy was lost in the ice blue irises and time had stopped. Lucien did half of the work and pulled his neck up. Mundy could smell his perfume and his cigarettes, maybe a lingering faint aroma of hot flour too. But the Aussie had been oblivious and didn't meet the Frenchman half-way. 

It had been roughly twenty-fours hours after these events now, and Mundy couldn't have got any of it out of his head. He was stuck there and then, his hand between Lucien's, his head leaning on the Frenchman. 

And he found it ridiculous! Dinners in little, hidden bistrots, holding hands on the banks of the river Seine, pulling an all-nighter on the grass under the Eiffel Tower… What the hell had he become? 

If his parents knew of it, if his friends knew of it, what would they all think? A holiday romance, nothing much? Pfff… 

What hurt Mundy wasn't any of that. It was the fact that he had grown attached to Lucien. For him, it wasn't just a holiday matter, he wanted it to be more. Why? Because where on Earth would he find someone that would treat him so well and with whom he felt that he could share his everything? He felt safe with Lucien. He felt safe in a way that the hunter never thought he would one day experience because what that meant is that he was much more insecure about himself than what he let on… 

Most people he knew would describe him as a nice bloke if not very talkative. They assumed he was just like that. But now, Mundy realised that he was just… shy. Part of him even thought that he was afraid. Of what? Of people, constantly watching and judging him. 

He didn't like people and preferred animals in that respect. Animals didn't care that you were still mostly living with your parents, driving your father's van around the desert. Animals didn't ask about his job only to fantasise about it, use him for the night and throw him away. Animals didn't think they couldn't build anything with him because of his almost nomad way of life. No, animals cared for him because he cared for them, end of story. 

"Bonsoir, Mundy. You took your time tonight, I thought you wouldn't come." 

[Good evening, Mundy.]

The voice with the French accent broke Mundy's train of thought abruptly and he winced. He looked down at his feet and gave them an angry glance. 

Well thanks for that… He was thinking. While he had been pulling on the thread of his thoughts like a cat on a ball of yarn, his feet had guided Mundy to the bakery.

"Oh, uh, y-yeah, sorry…"

"Are you alright?" Lucien asked, as Mundy still hadn't made eye contact with him. 

"Yeah, I'm fine." 

The Frenchman could have smelt that it was a lie from a mile away. He nonetheless ignored it and they both walked together along the street.

"What would you like to do tonight?" He asked.

"Don't know. You choose." 

"In that case, there is somewhere that we could try." Lucien took Mundy's hand and led the way. He had an idea to cheer up his more-than-friend.

The walk was silent as Lucien decided against insisting. Mundy seemed the type to like silence and solitude well, which the Frenchman respected. He too had his moments where he would rather be alone. 

Soon enough, they entered a café. Lucien quickly found a table and they both sat down, opposite each other. A waiter soon came. The Frenchman placed their order while Mundy was still brooding, somewhere between his own mind and nowhere… The waiter placed two mugs on the table and disappeared again. 

"Here." Lucien took Mundy's hand and pushed it to the mug gently. 

"Huh?" When his fingers registered the heat from both Lucien's hand and the mug, Mundy's eyes snapped wide and he landed back on Earth.

"Drink this." 

"What is it?"

"Can't you tell?" 

Mundy's sense of smell woke up as he raised the mug closer to his lips. 

"Hot chocolate?" 

"Oui, but not any kind. Try it." 

Mundy did as he was told and took a sip. 

"Hm… Very soft but not too sweet."

"As my mother used to do to me whenever I felt low, as a child. I kept the habit of coming here and having one whenever I felt like nothing else could help." 

"Mh." 

"Are you sure you don't want to talk to me about it, whatever it is?" Lucien asked after Mundy took another sip. 

"I… I don't know…" 

"Is it your parents? They seemed fine for lunch today." 

"No, it's not them. It's me." 

Lucien tilted his head on the side and his hand slid on the table until he cupped Mundy's, against the mug. 

"Tell me, please."

Mundy sighed. 

"I'll be goin' back to Oz. I-I'm gonna leave and… I… I kind of… I don't wanna." He mumbled, his eyes riveted on the hot chocolate. Lucien looked at him distraught. 

"I see." He answered. "Do you really wish to stay here?" 

"Y-yeah." 

"You like Paris that much?" 

Obviously, Mundy couldn't care less about the city. What counted was Lucien, and Lucien was staying there. 

"Mundy…? Talk to me, please. I hate to see you distraught." Now, both of Lucien's hands were on Mundy's, wrapped around the warm mug. 

"I don't wanna go, is all. It's childish and just plain ridiculous. But I wish I could stay and have… Have more tours of Paris.. With you." 

Lucien's thumbs brushed Mundy's hands. 

"I wish you could stay too, Mundy." Finally, the Aussie raised his head and met Lucien's sad eyes. "I have rarely felt the peace that I do with you. Your company is soothing for my now fragile nerves." 

Mundy raised an eyebrow. 

"What d'you mean?" 

"There was a time where I was able to withstand a lot of pressure on my shoulders; the pressure of an entire country even. The moment it was gone, my body and mind collapsed. I didn't know anything anymore, even my own identity, what I was, who I was, was hard to grasp. It took years to come back from there. Years that I wouldn't have survived if not for Perle. I focused my time and energy on her. I devoted my attention to her and it distracted me from thinking too much about myself." He paused to catch his breath. 

"Y-you got ill?" Lucien raised his eyes to Mundy. 

"Oui, a kind of illness that no doctor knows exactly how to cure. A lot of soldiers go through it. They come back from the battlefields and they find it very hard to adjust back to civil life."

"You were a soldier?" 

"Worse, but oui, I belonged to the army." 

"How did you become a baker then? You were already one before you went to the army?" Mundy asked. 

"Non, I was not. I had no skills besides those that I learnt in the army, or so few. You will mock me, but the idea came from Perle."

"Your kitty?" 

Lucien nodded. 

"One day I took her out to buy some bread with me. She was lying on my shoulders and when I was queueing to get my bread, she jumped out and into the back of the bakery." Lucien smiled as he remembered the events. "The baker let me through and we looked for her together. When we found her, she was asleep on a tray of still warm brioches." 

"Aw, was that a long time ago?" 

"She was somewhere between a kitten and an adult cat; a teenager, if you will." 

"Ah, right. But how did you become a baker?" 

"I apologised profusely to the baker and told him I would pay for all the damage and the pawprints… He told me he'd rather have someone to help him make all that again rather than take my money. So I offered my help. He taught me most of what I know now."

"Wow… Talk about finding work randomly, eh…"

"Oui, indeed. Since then, I have felt much better. Working put my attention and energy into something that brought smiles to the customers and apparently, to me too." 

"So you got your own bakery goin'?" 

"The previous owner of my bakery happens to be that man from the story. He was very old and decided to retire a few years later. He offered to let me buy the shop from him, which I did. I then changed the name to mine and redid some parts inside, the decoration mainly." 

"Oh, I see… Wow… Great story you have." 

"Merci." Lucien took a sip of his hot chocolate. "What about you? You said you were a hunter?" 

"Yeah, but work is more and more rare now when you mainly do pest control and poacher scarin'." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I don't hunt beasts for trophies, fur or fun. I hunt and tranquilise whatever happens to be a bit too far from its natural habitat, load it on my van, and drive it back where it should be or in a reserve. As for the poachers, I scare them off of endangered species." 

"So you don't kill animals?" 

"Very rarely. Only for food when I'm out for days and far from home." 

"Oh…" Lucien's eyebrows jumped. "I did not expect that. In fact, I didn't even know that this job existed." 

"As far as I know, I'm the only one who doesn't actually kill the beasts. I get contracts that get me travellin' through the world quite a bit."

"Very exciting." 

"Seein' the sights is nice, yeah. But uh, I miss my family quite fast and uh… It's not so much my family but… I feel a bit… Uh…"

"Lonely?" 

Mundy nodded. 

"Yeah…" 

"I would recommend getting a cat," Lucien said. "But I am afraid that it doesn't completely fill the emptiness that you feel inside." 

"I'd imagine so, yeah…" 

Silence fell for a while as they both drank more of their hot chocolates. 

"I would love you to stay, but your life, your family and your job are in Australia." Lucien said and his eyes met Mundy. They were both distraught and could hardly hide it. 

"Yeah… And I don't know anythin' else but shooting a rifle." Mundy looked through the window. It was now properly dark outside and only the yellow lamps inside the old café provided them with some light. 

"I am immensely grateful to you however." 

"For what?"

"I wouldn't be able to put a name on it but you brought me some peace and you made me wake up in the morning with a new feeling; the eagerness of welcoming a new day that will for sure contain some spark of joy, namely, your presence, your… Hm, you." 

Mundy blushed and turned as red as a brick. 

"Y-you do the same. I mean, for me. I uh… I'm not just happy to visit the city with my parents. I'm uh… I'm happy in the evenings, with you." 

They hadn't realised until then but they were holding hands on the table, the mugs had been pushed aside.

"I wish I could stay, I really do. But uh… Yeah, without a job or anythin', I can't." 

"I understand and, for what it is worth, I would love for you to stay too." Lucien hesitated but thought that it might be his last evening with Mundy. He looked around and could see the few customers in the café were far from them. "And not just to help you visit the city."

Mundy's eyebrows jumped as Lucien had spoken quite low. The Frenchman was staring at him with a particular shine in his eyes. He slightly bent forward and Mundy mirrored him. Their faces were a few inches apart. 

"L-Lucien, I'd uh… I'd better get back. We still gotta pack a few things before leavin' tomorrow." 

Lucien's chest burnt. Hot lava was being poured on his heart. 

"Before you go, may I tell you something?" 

They were both whispering. Mundy nodded and Lucien gestured to him to get closer, which he did. The Frenchman wrapped a hand behind Mundy's neck and the Aussie froze rigid when he felt Lucien's breath on his ear. 

"Je t'aime." He simply whispered and Mundy's entire being burst and melted when he felt Lucien's lips on his rough cheek. 

[I love you.]

"U-uh…" The air was scarce in the room but it happened too fast and Mundy was left alone at the table. Lucien had dashed out faster than a shadow. "Fuck me…" 

Soon, the surge of love was replaced by boiling rage and Mundy stormed out of the café, almost running back to the hotel. That night, he cried himself to sleep as silently as he could. He didn't want his parents to hear it. 

The next morning, Mundy was woken up by his mother. 

"Micky, sweetie? You've been sleepin' a long time, it's lunchtime now." 

"Don't wanna eat." He rolled himself under the blanket and his parents exchanged a concerned look. "You can go if you want." 

"Micky, you can't travel on an empty stomach, son." Mike's voice took the decision for everyone and Mundy sighed before getting out of bed and dressed up. 

They arranged for their luggage to be transferred to the airport while they went to have lunch. Obviously, they ended up in Lucien's bakery. 

"Bonjour, Lucien!"  Mike tried his best.

"Bonjour, Mike. What will it be today?"

"Hold your horses, son, I've gotta see with the wife if I can get dessert first…!" 

"Mike, you know the answer to that…" 

"Lucien," Mike turned to the baker. "You married, by any chance?"

Lucien shook his head. 

"Non, I nearly did but it did not happen."

"Well, before you get married, ask them if you can get dessert for the rest of your life." 

"Mike…! You know why you have to be careful, the doctor said so, now be reasonable, dear." Caroline tried.

"And only get a ring on your finger if they say that yes, you can get dessert until your very last breath!" 

Lucien smiled, albeit sadly. After that, the Turner family placed their order and soon enough, their sandwiches and salads appeared on the table. 

"Lucien, excuse me, dear?" Caroline called and Lucien came to her. 

"Oui, Madame?" 

"I saw the poster on your front door. You're looking to hire?" 

"Oui, indeed. I think this is the end of a chapter for me. Time maybe to do something else." 

"Oh, that's a shame. You're very good at what you do!"

"Yeah, your sandwiches are amazin'." Mike added. 

"Thank you very much."

"Did you receive applications?" Caroline asked. 

"I am afraid not, but I have only put that poster up this morning."

"What kind of people're you lookin' for?" Mike asked. 

"Anyone, from inexperienced to confirmed bakers. In fact, I learnt this trade as a beginner and I would like to pass on my knowledge and techniques to someone else. But don't let me bother you. Enjoy your lunch." 

He bowed and returned behind his counter. Mundy hadn't listened to any of it. He couldn't even raise his eyes off of his shoes, especially not to see Lucien. It hurt too much. 

"Micky?" 

"Mh." 

"Micky, you want to eat before we go, dear." Caroline said and her son sighed before taking a bite. He chewed slowly and looked away from anyone else. 

"Don't like your sandwich, son?" 

Mundy didn't answer and didn't see Caroline and Mike exchanging a glance. 

"You can try another one, eh." 

Still no answer from the heartbroken Aussie. It was a torture. Eating a sandwich made by the hand of a man he had cried for, hands that he had spent the past few weeks holding fondly even if he had never initiated it. Gosh, now he regretted it, he should have done something, anything…! But he wasn't ready, he never was, he had never been prepared for it! In more than three decades of existence, who the hell would come to him and teach him?

"Mike, Madame Caroline?" Lucien had come to the table. 

"Yeah?" 

"I have a… an unusual request, if I may."

"Go ahead, son." Mike wiped his mouth and frowned to listen better.

"It is actually for Mundy." Lucien said and Mundy frowned too but his eyes were still low. "If you would rather make your own sandwich, you may help yourself to the fridge and the breads that I have."

Mundy didn't flinch. 

"If you want… You can… Make not only your sandwich, but… other sandwiches." 

"Oh, you mean to take away? Ouch!" Mike asked and received an elbow to his ribs from Caroline who glared at him. 

"That is lovely of you, Lucien. Yes, I think he would love doing that, if that is ok with you?"

"It is the least I can offer, Madame."

"Oh, you really don't have to…!"

"Allow me to insist. You have been lovely customers throughout all these weeks."

"And you have been a lovely guide! So, Micky, what do you say?" Caroline asked her son and he sighed. 

"Don't know." He mumbled. 

"C'mon sweetie, go and make your own sandwich. And make a couple of extra ones for your Dad and I, for the road."

"Mum…" Mundy hid his face in his hands. 

"Micky, you don't want to be impolite to Lucien." She insisted. 

"Hm…" He grumbled and pushed his chair back before standing up, not seeing his mother whispering something to his father.

"Here, wear this. It would be a shame to have flour on your polo shirt." Lucien handed him an apron. Mundy took it and put it on without looking at it. This whole show hurt and was preposterous… "Now let me show you around the house, pray follow me." 

Mundy dragged his feet on the floor and followed Lucien behind the counter. 

"What sandwiches would you and Mike like, Madame Caroline?" Lucien asked. 

"If you have that ham and butter, what d'you call it again, Lucien?" She answered. 

"Jambon-beurre, Madame." He answered. "Mundy, please take one of those in front of you? Thank you, now, follow me to the fridge. Here is the light butter and the lean ham. I keep them on this side to not get them confused with their regular counterparts. Now, you will do your father's sandwich. Here, chopping board, a fresh baguette and a knife. Go ahead." 

"L-Lucien…" Mundy sighed in front of the ingredients. "I can't." 

Caroline stood up and went to the counter with Mike, customer side, while Mundy and Lucien were on the other side. 

"C'mon, son, your first sandwich here, Micky! Caroline, get the camera!" Mike encouraged him. 

"And we get to see you make it!" Caroline added enthusiastically and readied herself to take a picture.

"Wh-what?" Mundy asked, confused that his parents were that thrilled for… him making a couple of sandwiches.

"C'mon, cut the bread, Micky, chop, chop!" Mike said and Mundy got to work, missing the point entirely. He made the sandwich for his father and added his mother's to the plastic bag. 

"I won't take one for myself." Mundy said and started undoing the apron. 

"Of course not, son!" Mike answered with a chuckle and Mundy's confusion just jumped a notch.

"And what are you doing, Micky? Keep the apron!" Caroline laughed.

"What? I'm not gonna travel with that!" Mundy answered. 

"Of course not!" She answered. 

"What the hell's been going on? Look, this is just - it's just…!" Mundy covered his face with his hands to hide his shame. At that point he thought it was a nightmare and he would wake up. 

"Ooh, we're sorry, sweetie…" Caroline hugged him. "We didn't want to upset you." 

"But why…?"

"Micky, look at your apron, son." Mike said.

"Dad, look, I'm just tired. Let's go back home." Beyond the distress of leaving Lucien, Mundy felt embarrassed, ashamed to have been put on the spot with the apron, the sandwich making… What was that all about…?

"S'il te plaît, Mundy." 

[Please, Mundy.]

Caroline and Mike stepped back to let Lucien get closer to Mundy. The Aussie turned his face away. He couldn't take any of it anymore. 

"Mundy…?" 

"Take it back and leave me alone." Mundy removed the apron completely and pushed it against Lucien's chest. 

"On one condition, you look here." 

Mundy sighed but obeyed. Lucien held the apron between his hands. 

"What do you read here?"

The apron was white with something sewn on it. Mundy squinted. His shoulders and jaw dropped when he read the word. 

Mundy

It was sewn in cursive letters. Mundy looked at Lucien's apron. His name was sewn in the same style. 

"What? What's that mean?"

"It means, and forgive me for repeating myself, that I am offering you a job here." Lucien answered. 

"What?! I know nothing of bread!"

"I will teach you, you will see, it isn't hard at all." 

"But why? I gotta go back home…" Mundy turned to his parents. 

"Micky, you can stay longer if you want." Mike said. 

"Yeah, it's fine, you're a big boy and you've stayed with us long enough. Maybe this is your chance?" Caroline added and Mundy's eyes lit up with joy and excitement. 

"Really?" His voice broke under the emotion he was trying to prudely contain. 

"Of course!" Caroline answered. She went to the tip of her toes to put a hand on Mundy’s rough, slender cheek. "Look, for the past few weeks, we realised with your Dad that we hadn't seen you that happy in years. Each night, when you come back from your walks, you smile and even when you sleep, the smile stays on…!"

"Your Mum's right, son. If you're happy here with Lucien, then stay, at least a bit more. And it's not like you were exactly earnin' a decent wage out of a few hunting contracts, eh? Folks will find other people to deal with their beasts. You deal with you, ok?" 

"Oh my God…" Mundy's tears came to his eyes faster than he could control. "Gosh…!" He hid his face and his shame with his hands.

"Aw, baby Micky…!" Caroline went to the tip of her toes to hug him and Mike tapped him on the back. 

"It's alright, son, it's alright." 

"But, you sure, though?" Mundy withdrew from the hug and looked his parents in the eye. 

"Of course! We'll make it back home and give you a call when we get there." Caroline said, pinching his cheek gently. 

"Yeah, of course!" Mike added. "Now, c'mere son." Father and son exchanged a long hug. "You make your parents proud, yeah?" 

"Yeah, Dad, don't worry."

"And you be a good boy, eh?" Caroline added. 

"Yes, Mum, I will."

"You look out for each other, alright boys?" Mike looked at Lucien. 

"We will, Mike." The Frenchman answered. "But Mundy…?" 

"Yeah?"

"Do you accept my offer?" Lucien held the apron up. 

Mundy looked at his parents who nodded, then back at Lucien. 

"Yeah… Please." 

"Fine." Lucien got closer and put the apron on Mundy. He then tied it for him as the Aussie's eyes were riveted on his parents. Caroline was leaning on her husband's side and both wore a proud smile. Mundy hadn't seen his parents smile like that for a long, long time. "There, you are ready." 

"Thanks, Lucien." They exchanged a tender gaze and didn't see Caroline's eyes light up. 

"Right, boys, I think we should be on our way." Mike said. 

"But of course." Lucien answered. "Here, your sandwiches for the road."

"Mum, you call me as soon as you can, ok?" Mundy said, as they all went to the front door. 

"Yes, dear, don't worry." 

They were now standing outside of the bakery under the beautiful and powerful summer sun. 

"You call us sometimes, Micky, eh?" Mike said. 

"Sure, I will." 

Hugs and kisses were exchanged. 

"And you, you take care of our son, alright?" Mike was shaking Lucien's hand and patted his shoulder. After that, he waved for a taxi to stop.

"I will think of him before I think of myself." Lucien answered while giving a nod. 

"And Micky, you take care of Lucien too, eh?" Caroline said as she winked, making her son blush beyond his ears. 

"Y-yeah Mum, will do…" 

"Bye, son." 

"Bye guys, careful on your way back, eh?" Mundy answered.

"We will, don't worry." 

And on that, they all waved at each other as Mike and Caroline slipped in the taxi and they went their way. Lucien and Mundy stayed for a while, even after the taxi disappeared. The Aussie was out of breath, everything had happened quite fast. 

“I’ll miss them.” He said.

“I will miss them too. You are lucky to have very supportive parents, Mundy.” 

“Yeah… But I’m glad to stay here.”

"So…" Lucien said as both him and Mundy entered the shop again.

"Yeah?" 

"Ready to learn the fine art of bread and pastry making?" 

"I guess… I mean, I didn't really think it through, eh." Mundy chuckled and looked at Lucien. "But with you, anythin'." 

The Frenchman smiled. 

"First lesson: follow me." 

They went back behind the counter and Lucien even invited Mundy in the hidden workshop, behind a wooden door. There were tables lined up in the room, fridges on one wall and ovens in the other.

"Woah… It smells incredible in here…!" Mundy said as he was hit by a wave of hot flour. 

"Indeed. You will see, you will never get tired of that incomparable smell. Hot flour and sometimes, hints of sugar."

"Yeah…” Mundy inhaled deeply and when he exhaled, his eyes were half closed. That place was heaven... “Right, so what's first?" 

Lucien shut the door and looked up at Mundy. 

"First, I have to ask you, are you sure you want to stay with me? We can still call a taxi for you and you can join your parents." 

Lucien's light blue eyes raised up to Mundy were a sight to behold for the shy Aussie. 

"Y-yeah."

"Yes, what? Shall we call a taxi or…?"

"No. I wanna… Try, with you." 

Lucien's smile made all his face beam up poetically. He closed the gap between Mundy and himself and hugged the taller man. 

"Thank you so much." Both closed their eyes and held dearly to each other. “Thank you so much for trusting me and for believing that this is all worthwhile. I do appreciate that you are leaving everything behind just for me and… I am beyond grateful.”

Mundy bent down to put his lips next to Lucien's ear.

"Lucien?" He whispered. 

"Oui?" 

"I think I… I love you too." Mundy screwed his eyes shut and buried his head deep in the crook of Lucien's neck, holding Lucien not like a friend, but like the salvation he felt God sent to him through that man. 

"Mundy…?" 

"Yeah?"

"Look at me." 

Mundy did as he was told and Lucien wrapped his arms around the Aussie's neck. 

"O-oh… Right… Y-yeah?" 

Lucien smiled before his eyelashes bowed down as he slowly closed his eyes. He pushed himself to the tip of his toes and did what he had dreamt of doing. 

Mundy's eyes rolled up in bliss and if he froze for a second, the kiss made him soon melt such that he bent down and pulled Lucien from his back and his hip, to feel more of him against himself. He yielded to the passion of the moment, he let everything explode in him, the yearning, the longing... 

It lasted for a few seconds that they both wanted to extend, but the call for air was stronger. When they broke the kiss, they stayed with their foreheads against each other. 

Neither knew what to say first, to exit that moment. 

"Hold on…" Mundy eventually said. 

"Oui? Something is the matter?" Lucien asked. 

"No but… You had an apron with my name all along?" 

"Non," Lucien chuckled. "When I came back yesterday night, I spent some time thinking and smoking. I couldn't help but repeat the discussion we had in the café on loop in my head. And then I remembered what you said, that you wouldn't be able to stay without a job. That was when I got the idea to hire you."

"Oh, woah…"

"So I woke up this morning, my mind set as hard as stone. I thought that I would ask in front of your parents." 

"How did you know they'd accept?" 

"I think your mother felt it, for a long time." 

"She felt what?" 

"Mundy, she is a woman, and your mother, she feels those things. Besides, each time you have lunch here you stare at me with such insistence…!"

"What?! No, I don't!" Mundy protested and his cheeks turned red. 

"Yes, you do, mon amour, and don't blush so much…" Lucien chuckled and tapped the tip of Mundy's nose. 

"Did you just call me-?"

"My love, oui. Now, let us go to work - oh?!" Lucien's sentence was interrupted by an intense - if slightly awkward - kiss. Mundy held him dearly, almost clawed in his sides and Lucien smiled. 

"That is quite unprofessional, hm?" The Frenchman teased.

"Well, you started it, eh?" 

"Non, I did not kiss my employer." 

"You kissed your employee, that's worse." 

"Non, you are not my employee yet."

"What?" 

"You are my apprentice…"

"Right, fair enough. What's that make you then?" Mundy asked. 

"... And my lover." 

"Oh, right, ok, uhm… I-I mean…" 

"And very shy." 

"Well…" 

They spent the beginning of that afternoon in the workshop dealing with bread and pastries as they teased each other. When the time came to close the shop and go back home, Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"H-hold on." He said on the pavement with Lucien.

"Oui?" 

"I… I don't have a home here… I could probably be able to pay a couple more nights at the hotel but…"

Lucien's chuckle cut Mundy's sentence. 

"Why're you laughin'? I'm telling you I'm homeless…!"

"Don't be silly, Mundy. Come." Lucien took his hand and led the way. 

"Right… I s'ppose you can walk me back to the hotel…" 

"Non, I will not and I am not." 

"Where are we goin' then?" 

"Home." 

Mundy frowned in confusion but decided to wait and see. Meanwhile, he held Lucien's hand dearly in his own. A few minutes later, Lucien stopped and got some keys out of his pocket. He unlocked the door and flipped a switch. 

"Meow…!" 

A white cloud brushed the floor and jumped in Lucien's arms. 

"Oui, mon bébé, bonsoir, Papa est rentré…"

[Yes, my baby, good evening to you too, Papa has come home…]

He kissed her countless times and carried her in his arms indeed like a baby. 

"Mundy, this is Perle. Perle, this is Mundy." 

"Oh, yeah, your kitty…! Hello there, pretty lady…" Mundy scratched her cheeks and jaw, and soon both Lucien and him heard her pur. 

"She likes you already." Lucien said. 

"I'm good with animals usually, yeah… Hold on, what d'you mean 'already'?" 

"Perle," Lucien said to his cat. "Mundy here is more than just a man who knows how to scratch you perfectly." 

"Meow?" 

"Oui, he is Papa's very good friend."

"Meow…?"

"Fine, oui, he is Papa's… Second half."

"Meow!"

"Don't worry, you are still my baby, but now, you are our baby, because Mundy here" Lucien raised his eyes to his lover. "Mundy here will live with us." 

"Wh-...? Wait, are you serious?" Mundy asked in shock at the door's threshold. Lucien pulled him in and closed the door after him. 

"I am. Now, make yourself at home, and give me an instant, someone has to feed this snow white baby."

"Meow!" 

Lucien went to the kitchen as Mundy opened wide eyes and observed every little thing in the room. The paintings, most of them abstract, the furniture, the brown leather sofa, the persian style carpet in front of it, on which was the coffee table. There was a fireplace too and on the mantelpiece, pictures. They were all about Perle, the white kitten who grew to a majestic, fluffy creature with mesmerising blue eyes, a bit like her master.

"One last thing Mundy…!" Lucien said from the kitchen. 

"Yeah?" 

"I have only one double bed!"

Mundy blushed and smiled.

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 14

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 14 - Lecture

For most people, it was just like any regular Monday afternoon. The temperature was high and there hadn't been any rain in over a week. A black Audi stopped at the entrance of the school's auditorium and really stood out. In the distance, he saw a big red banner at the entrance of the building: "A warm welcome to Professor Chen XX, appraisal researcher from the Palace Museum, for holding a cultural relic appraisal lecture in our school."

The auditorium had been recently built in the past few years. The entrance hall was very magnificent, with a light blue dome and wall, and the entire wall near the gate was made of glass. From the outside, he could see the crowds of people in the hall. Different from the usual modern style, the overall layout of the hall was more reminiscent of ancient designs. There were two large vases with impressions of a Ming Dynasty maid enjoying spring peaches. The promotional posters were framed by carved wooden windows. It was almost like walking into an antique shop.

The air-conditioning in the hall was turned too high and Lin Yan rubbed the goosebumps on his arms as he stood in the queue, staring at the posters to pass the time.

The professor on the poster looked like an unopened file folder, and even the reflection on his glasses looked like the transparent plastic wrapping paper on the file folder. Lin Yan was stumped, and then suddenly realized why he thought he looked so familiar. This person is the editor-in-chief of "Research on the History of Ming Dynasty Clothing". You could see his headshot when you turn to the first page of the textbook. It was said that he was quite famous in both professional research and folk antique auctions. He had probably seen him in a treasure appraisal program. Lin Yan recalled that he hadn't met him during the internship. Maybe because he had been an irrelevant excavation member.

On the other hand, why would someone ask him to participate in the excavation of a Ming Dynasty tomb?

"There are still 20 minutes before the doors open. Please wait patiently in the queue. Our staff will provide you with an introduction pamphlet for the event and free drinks." A sweet female voice came from the lobby intercom. Not far in front of Lin Yan, a tall boy who had been playing on a PSP with his head down turned his head and smiled wryly. He said to the person behind him: "The girl's voice is so sweet."

What's peculiar is that this person is wearing a modified Hanfu outfit, tailored to fit his body but with wide sleeves. With his pimples on his face and the PSP in his hand, he looked very strange. Lin Yan glanced around the room and was surprised to find that not only the PSP guy was dressed up, but many others had certain ancient style elements in their outfits. One girl even had her hair curled, and the ebony crested hairpiece swaying down by her sideburns.

Lin Yan stared, bored, outside the glass wall, and a familiar figure in a blue cloth robe caught his eye.

It was the little Daoist priest, squatting by the flowerbed not far away, feeding a lazy big yellow cat with some ham in his hand. The yellow cat curled up with a comfortable look, and his chubby figure resembled a large snail with a lot of privilege.

As soon as the little Daoist looked up, he saw Lin Yan beckoning to him. He threw the rest of the ham to the yellow cat in a hurry and ran into the hall with his schoolbag on his back. Lin Yan stepped out of line, and the cold surrounding him moved with him, although it seemed a little reluctant.

"At least A-Yan is a living person. You don't know how long you've been dead." Lin Yan couldn't help muttering. The series of events such as the exorcism and giving him talismans made Xiao Yu disgusted with this little Daoist priest. Every time in the past week that he had called A-Yan to ask about sending away spirits, well, his reaction was clear.

"Come here and wait." Lin Yan greeted the little Daoist priest who had just rushed into the hall. "It wasn't eating well, so I brought some ham for it." A-Yan was still holding half of the red plastic container in his hand. His face suddenly flushed red and he looked at Lin Yan with bright eyes.

His arm was squeezed by a cold hand and it pulled him away from the little Daoist priest. Lin Yan was already uncomfortably cold by the air conditioner, so he frowned and pushed down Xiao Yu's hand.

The lingering cold leaned against him, and abruptly shook against him. Lin Yan thought he must be really angry. When he looked up, he saw a group of students dressed in ancient costumes coming out of the golden gate of the auditorium. Unlike the people wearing the modified Hanfu costumes, these dozen or so people wore put-together Ming Dynasty outfits. Boys wore blue or white cloth with trimmed edges and silk scarves on their heads. Girls wore outer coats with gold and jade pendants and outer sleeves with beautiful embroidery. Some blouses and moonflower skirts were plainer for everyday Ming women, and some of them dressed as graceful ladies with big red sleeves. They each held a plate. There were small disposable paper cups inside, which the staff brought out to distribute.

Something wasn't right with Xiao Yu. His whole body was trembling against Lin Yan. Lin Yan was startled. He tried not to move his lips too much and asked him in a low voice, "Did you remember something?" Xiao Yu didn't answer, but Lin Yan remembered when he saw the ghost on the computer screen for the first time, he was not wearing a high hat at all, it was a futou.

"I'll take over, you guys go on break," a clear voice rang out. Lin Yan was shocked. A familiar figure stood in the staff's team, with short hair set against the various pieces of brocade. While distributing black tea, she turned around and laughed with her acquaintances. No matter how she changed her style, Lin Yan would never mistake that it was Weiwei.

Lin Yan wanted to lower his head and pretend that he hadn't seen her, but Weiwei had obviously noticed him. After a second of pause, Lin Yan called out and walked straight over to the buffet table. The colours of the rice farmer outfit she wore were interlaced and she was wearing very little makeup. There is a small Hetian seed around her neck, which is kind of chunky and stiff, which made a very natural look.

"Long time no see, are you here alone?" Weiwei smiled and handed a cup of black tea to Lin Yan. "Do you want to join us?"

Straightforward people like Weiwei never took embarrassing memories to heart. Lin Yan couldn’t do it. He always felt that he could never be friends with his past love affairs. Since they broke up, he did his best to avoid any situation where he might run into Weiwei, whether it was class reunions or birthdays, he always went with someone else. Of course, there were times he couldn't escape her, such as right now. Lin Yan reluctantly raised his head, forcing a laugh.

"No, no, I came with A-Yan." Lin Yan's face felt very hot, and he hurriedly pulled the little Daoist priest to hide behind.

Probably because of the little Daoist's strange reputation, Weiwei glanced at A-Yan in surprise. She quickly adjusted her expression, took a cup of black tea from the plate and handed it to A-Yan. She also gave Lin Yan two laminated pamphlets. Shee said: "This is the biggest activity of our club this semester. I have been busy preparing for more than two months. I'm losing my hair from how tired I am."

"Sounds great." Lin Yan's answer was a bit awkward.

"I hope you like it." She grinned.

A team of staff members rushed forward as they called her name. When they saw Weiwei and Lin Yan standing face to face without speaking, they began to mock: "Hey, is this the guy you used to go out with?" Shu Shengfu gave Lin Yan a once-over, shifting their gaze from the plaid shirt with good texture to the CK label on the jeans. He said, "You know how to pick the lookers. Such a nice little boy."

Weiwei didn't get angry. She simply turned around and said calmly: "What kind of look? This was the man I almost married. It doesn't matter what kind of person he is, he will marry into someone else's family." Everyone's face changed into realization in the shift of tone, and there was a wave of awkwardness. Shu Shengfu had a grimace on his face, and he pat Lin Yan on the shoulder. "So that's who you are. You had such an amazing girl get away from you. Too bad we don't have time to catch up" The words were addressed to Lin Yan, but his eyes kept staring at Weiwei.

Lin Yan smiled and said faintly: "If you want to know my methods, it'll be 100 yuan per lesson. Although you should look at my state now to see how it turns out."

There was another burst of laughter. Weiwei was a little embarrassed. She glared at Shu Shengfu and turned her face to Lin Yan and said with a straight face: "Don't pay attention to them, they're just fooling around. By the way, you two don't need to line up here. There are a few rows of seats reserved for the staff. We all have to be on duty at the door and can’t go in. It’ll be a pity for them to be empty, and it doesn't look good for the photos. Go sit there.” She pulled out two blue tickets from the bottom of the pamphlet tray, which were similar to those in Lin Yan's hand, except that there was a small yellow VIP logo in the upper right corner.

Lin Yan instinctively wanted to refuse, but when Weiwei said that there was a question-and-answer session in the lecture, she was too nervous to sit in the front row and talk directly with the professor. He clutched the pamphlet hesitantly but eventually accepted the tickets.

"However. . ." Lin Yan thought for a second: "I need three seats, can I?"

Weiwei glanced sharply at the girl behind Lin Yan. Lin Yan shook his head with a strange expression: "No, my friend hasn't come over yet."

Weiwei asked the girl next to her for a ticket, She seemed reluctant to ask, but she whispered: "Lin Yan, are you. . ."

A large group of well-dressed girls swarmed behind him, and the one who took the lead was surprised when she saw Weiwei, gesturing to the handsome guy that was in front of her. Weiwei glanced at Lin Yan helplessly. She wanted to say something, but Lin Yan suddenly interrupted her: "I'll go now if that's alright. My friends are still waiting for me."

A group of people huddled Weiwei and she continued to hand out drinks. She was a very social person. No matter where she went, people always flocked around her. Lin Yan was the opposite. Although Lin Yan was popular, he felt more at ease alone as opposed to being in the crowd every day. Lin Yan handed the three VIP seat tickets to the little Daoist priest, and the two walked along the red carpet to the staff seats together.

The backstage corridor was completely different from the front hall. The western-style decoration was magnificent. The gilded flowers float across the wall. After staring at them for a while, they seemed to jump off the wall. Lin Yan stroked the wallpaper with a finger, unsure of what to feel. He was a little embarrassed, a little nostalgic, he didn't know what expression he should wear. He wasn't sure what to do with himself.

His life shouldn’t be like this. Lin Yan looked up at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling. He had felt that the world was splitting apart when he and Weiwei broke up half a year ago. In a normal world, he and Weiwei would have been the ideal couple, standing at the door of their home together to welcome their guests. Here, he walked down the corridor alone in a daze, and fell into an abyss behind the main entrance of the lecture hall, falling endlessly to the ground.

The cold fingers touched the back of his hand. He held his wrist a little harder. His thumb slid into the palm of his hand and opened his fist, giving his hand a light squeeze. Lin Yan paused and sighed, his fingers curling back around the other's hand. It was as if holding Xiao Yu's hand was natural. It was cold, firm and slender, like holding a piece of porcelain. Xiao Yu turned around and wrapped Lin Yan's right hand in his palm. He didn't know why he suddenly felt so calm. He thought it was always good for someone to stand by him through the most embarrassing moments, regardless of whether or not that person had been dead for almost 500 years.

[windscattered]

Previously

Delano wanted to vomit. He had a son. From that one night with Lieselotte, he had a son. He had been so careful with everyone else, but the one time… 

“Where’s Fang,” Delano finally ground out, voice scratching his throat like sandpaper.

Lieselotte looked confused. “Fang?”

“My dog. If you went to my apartment to bring my shit here, you brought my dog here too, right?”

Adriano raised his eyebrows and looked at Lieselotte, who was looking uncomfortable. “Oh, that beast… Is it so important to you that you have to have it here?”

Delano stared at her in disbelief. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing irreversible,” Lieselotte said hastily, her palms up. “It- she is just at an animal shelter.”

“You took her to a shelter? Without asking me?” Delano’s expression must have been scary, because Adriano’s eyes widened and Lieselotte looked downright alarmed.

“It’s- like I said, nothing irreversible! If she’s that important to you, I can have her brought here.”

“Then do that,” Delano said, struggling to keep his voice even. “She’s my friend. I need her.”

“Alright, sheesh,” Lieselotte said. “I need to make some phone calls. Make yourself at home, in the meantime, sweetie. Excuse me…” She left deeper into the house, leaving Adriano and Delano by themselves.

As soon as she was gone, Delano’s shoulders dropped and he rubbed his eyes with his good hand. God fucking damn. Fang, all alone, in a strange place…

Adriano cleared his throat, gaining Delano’s attention. “Are you… hungry?” he asked carefully.

After those bombshells? The last thing Delano wanted to do was to eat. With his son, no less. “Sure, whatever,” Delano said out loud, not sure why he had agreed.

Adriano nodded and walked back into the kitchen, followed by Delano. Delano made a beeline to the dining table and sat down with a heavy sigh.

“What breed is she?” Adriano asked as he busied himself at the fridge. “Fang, I mean.”

Delano rested his head on his hand. “Pitbull.”

“Oh?” Adriano brought some sandwich ingredients to the dining table. “No wonder mom took her to the shelter. She’s gonna hate having her here.” He grinned.

“She’s not rowdy or anything,” Delano said tiredly.

“Still,” Adriano said, still grinning. “She doesn’t like big dogs.”

Delano wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He was already taking space here, and with Fang, he’d be taking even more.

“I always wanted a dog,” Adriano said, starting to assemble a sandwich. “She always said that I’d be allowed a small dog.”

Delano finally looked up at him. “What breed did you want?”

Adriano shrugged. “I don’t know. Not a pomeranian or a chihuahua though. Like, maybe a medium size dog, but that was too big for her too.”

Delano nodded slowly. “Nothing wrong with small breeds, though,” he said.

“Of course, yeah,” Adriano said. “But the breeds mom allowed me were so… frou frou.”

“I get it,” Delano said, starting to awkwardly assemble his own sandwich with one hand.

“She’s so anal about the potential of dog hair on the furniture,” Adriano said with a frown. “Our couches are leather. Hair doesn’t stick to leather!” He sighed. “Uh, do you want me to make one for you?” he asked after he saw Delano struggle with butter.

“Please,” Delano said, passing the butterknife over to Adriano.

Adriano started to assemble Delano’s sandwich as a silence fell between them. Adriano drew a breath, as if to say something, but Lieselotte appeared into the kitchen.

“There you are,” she said, making Delano stiffen immediately. “My boys, already getting along.” She walked behind Delano and smoothed her hands on his shoulders. Delano’s throat closed up. “We’ll have Fang back first thing tomorrow.”

Adriano set a plate with a sandwich on it in front of Delano. Delano nodded a thanks to him, although he couldn’t eat. Not when Lieselotte’s hands were on him.

“We’ll need a doghouse for the yard,” Lieselotte mused, running her hands on Delano’s shoulders. “And a chain for her.”

“Is she allowed to be indoors?” Adriano asked, looking disappointed.

Lieselotte was quiet for a moment. Her hands moved to stroke Delano’s hair. Delano forced himself to not shudder. “If she behaves, doesn’t run around and ruin the floors and won’t do her business inside.”

“She knows how to behave,” Delano said, swallowing around a lump in his throat. “She’s housetrained.”

“That’s good,” Lieselotte chirped. “We just might get along after all.” She was quiet for a moment. “Oh, were you two eating? Are you hungry? I could cook up something.”

Delano swallowed involuntarily. “N-no thanks, the sandwich is enough,” he ground out.

Lieselotte hummed. “Alright. We can have a proper dinner later. All together as a family. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Delano stared at the untouched sandwich in front of him. Nice… Sure.

***

“Do I have a room here?” Delano asked Lieselotte.

For a second Lieselotte looked surprised. “Oh, yes, a room! Of course!”

She lead him to a guest bedroom. “You can sleep here,” she said. “But, you know, you can also join me-”

“This room is fine,” Delano interrupted. “Thank you.”

Lieselotte looked disappointed, but said nothing. “Alright.”

Delano disappeared into the room and closed the door before Lieselotte could invite herself in. The room was… bare. As one might expect. There was a bed, a desk, a chair and a closet and some kind of painting on the wall, but that was about it. Delano didn’t mind. This was already more stuff than he had at his apartment.

There was a knock at the door and Lieselotte stepped in, carrying a big black trash bag. “Sorry about barging in again,” she said. “I just thought you might want to have your clothes here.” She walked to the bed and dropped the bag on it. “Here you go, honey. You should check that everything is in there, just in case.”

“Thanks,” Delano said. He started digging into the bag awkwardly with one hand.

Lieselotte watched him with a hand on her cheek. “Maybe I should help you.”

“Please,” Delano said. Even though he wanted nothing more than Lieselotte to leave him alone.

“Just sit back and relax,” Lieselotte said, letting her hand run down Delano’s back. “I’ll unpack your clothes, honey.”

Delano fought back a shudder and looked around the room. He now realized that the only place to lay down here was the bed. He’d be sleeping in a strange place, without Fang, on a bed. Delano swallowed. His throat felt tight.

“Good grief,” Lieselotte sighed, holding up a t-shirt with a small hole on it. “We need to get you some new clothes.”

Delano hummed as he sat down on the chair at the desk. His stomach twisted as he thought what kind of clothes she’d buy for him. Would she let him choose or would she choose for him, marking him as hers?

As Lieselotte unpacked the garbage bag, it finally sunk in that she really had stuffed all of Delano’s clothes in it. For a split-second, Delano was confused as to why, but then he remembered what Lieselotte had said back at the hospital. The exact word she had used was “move in”, right? Was he here permanently? The thought made Delano’s chest constrict in a nauseating way. He really was trapped here. Like a circus animal.

***

Somehow, Delano managed to sleep during the night. Not through the whole night, though. He slept in short bursts, each interrupted by a nightmare. He was, for once in his life, glad that morning came.

At six in the morning, Delano gave up on sleeping and slinked downstairs to the kitchen. He wondered if he could stomach food. Ever since he came to this house, he’s been inexplicably nauseous. He had to wonder if he was coming down with something.

Even though he still felt slightly sick, his stomach growled, making him remember that he hadn’t eaten since the sandwich Adriano had made him yesterday. He would have breakfast.

Delano got some eggs, cheese and ham from the fridge and brought them to the stove. The stove top gave him a pause. It was… so clean. Delano could see his face on it. Could he really cook on this? He’d drop something on it and make it dirty, he was sure.

After some hesitation, Delano grabbed a pan and turned the stove on. If he spilled something, he’d wipe it off. Simple. Delano cooked himself a thick omelette.

When the omelette was done, Delano started looking for a coffee machine. He did find one, but he was stumped as to how it worked. With some poking, Delano figured out how it worked and made himself a cup of coffee.

Delano sat down at the table and ate. The coffee was delicious. He’s never had coffee like it. Is this what rich people drank? Every day? Damn. 

After eating, Delano put his dishes away, cleaned the stove and stepped out of the kitchen. Now that everyone was asleep, this could be the perfect chance to explore the house.

Delano’s bare feet padded softly on the floor as he walked around in the silent house. During his exploration, he found the bathroom with a bathtub and a shower and some kind of weird room with elevated wooden seats (was that real wood? Damn, so fancy!) and some kind of device topped with decorative rocks in the corner. He found a living room and another room with comfortable couches and a fireplace, what looked like an office and the laundry room and some kind of storage area. Every single room was neatly organized and almost clinically clean. It made Delano wonder why a stray dog like him was even here.

Exploring and mapping the house now done, Delano returned to the living room. Something in there had caught his attention. One of the walls was completely made of glass. Behind the window and glass door, a yard opened. A real yard. With grass.

Delano let himself out to see it closer. Immediately behind the glass doors was a small deck, made from… was that real wood? It either felt like real wood or very convincing imitation wood. Delano hadn’t known that wood had a texture to it. He knelt down and felt it with his hand, the small ridges and the lines and the knots. So luxurious. Just for this area that you walk on. Mindblowing.

Of course there was some furniture on the deck too. A big umbrella, now closed, leant against the wall in a corner. Some of those soft chairs that you can lay back until they’re horizontal. A table and a grill.

But, behind the deck. The grass. Delano moved to the edge of the deck and paused. Didn’t he need shoes to walk on grass? He’d have to get them from the other side of the house though… Fuck it, he’d wipe his feet before he went back in.

Delano stepped onto the grass. It… wasn’t as soft as Delano had assumed. Grass leaves weren’t as soft as lettuce? Huh. Delano dug his toes deeper into it. It was slightly wet… Oh, was this morning dew? It was so clean! The morning dew Delano was used to in the lower levels was usually brown at best and sludge at worst. But this dew? You could drink this!

Delano walked on the grass, feeling his feet get wetter with each step. Fang would love this yard. There was enough space for her to run back and forth comfortably. Delano stepped from under the roofed area and the sky opened above him again.

Delano was struck breathless. The sky! It was orange! How? Wasn’t it supposed to be blue? No, wait. Sunrises and sunsets got different colours. That’s right. Such a shame the yard was opening to… whatever this direction was. Not the one the sun rose from. Maybe Delano would see the sunset, though… 

He ended up standing in the grass, staring up at the sky until it turned from orange to yellow to blue.

...Wait, he had to call his work. His day job, at the casino. And let them know he was on sick leave with a broken arm again.

Delano went back inside.

***

“Lucky Lady’s Casino, Jack Gonzales.”

“Hey, boss, it’s Delano,” Delano said.

“Sup, man,” Jack said. “Is your arm better?”

Delano paused. “How did you know about that?”

“Your girlfriend called me and let me know. She sent me the doctor’s note too.”

Delano’s blood froze. “She’s not my-”

“Whatever, man. Just hurry up and heal so you can get back to work,” Jack interrupted.

Delano deflated. “Okay.”

“Was that all?”

“Yeah,” Delano heard himself say. “I’ll let you know when I’ll be back.”

“Awesome. See you then.” Jack hung up without a bye.

Delano ended the call with a sinking feeling. The walls around him felt suffocating.

***

While waiting for Adriano and Lieselotte to wake up and Fang to arrive, Delano found that he really didn’t have anything to do. What did Delano even do with his life besides work?

Absently, Delano dug around the things that were brought from his apartment. He didn’t have much, but everything was here. Except Fang’s stuff, of course. Delano could only hope that Fang’s bed, leash, toys and bowls would come back with her.

… God, he missed her so fucking much. The second she got here wouldn’t be a goddamn second too soon.

Delano found the textbooks for his evening classes and started doing his homework, for a lack of anything else to do. He would have difficulties filling all the time he’d be trapped in this house…

After some time, there was a knock at the door. Lieselotte stepped in. “Delano?”

“Yeah?” Delano replied, standing up from the chair.

“I just got a call from the shelter,” Lieselotte said. “They’ve just sent someone to bring Fang here. They should arrive in around 45 minutes.”

Thank fucking god. “Okay. Good to know.”

Lieselotte gave him a look. “How long have you been awake?” she asked.

“What time is it?” Delano replied, grabbing his phone from his desk. Seven thirty. “Hour and a half.”

Lieselotte’s eyebrows rose. “You’re a morning person, huh,” she mused.

Delano shrugged. He wasn’t much of a “sleeping person” to begin with.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Lieselotte asked.

“Yeah,” Delano said.

An expression flickered on Lieselotte’s face, but it disappeared quickly. “Good,” she said. “Good to hear.” She tilted her head. “What have you been doing for the time you were awake?”

“I checked out the yard,” Delano said. “Then I’ve been doing homework.”

Lieselotte looked surprised. “Homework?” she asked, stepping further into the room, curiously looking to the desk.

“Uh, yeah, I-” Delano fell silent. How could he explain to Lieselotte that he missed a lot of education in his teens when it was her fault? “I… I’m taking some evening classes.”

Lieselotte beamed. “Really? That’s great! What kind of classes are you taking?”

Delano brushed hair behind his ear, suddenly flustered. “Y-yeah, it’s nothing special. Just some math.”

“Oh? Are you good at math?” Lieselotte asked, stepping to the desk to take one of Delano’s books. She leafed through it. As she browsed through the book, her smile shrank as she saw that it was just high school level math.

Delano looked away from her. He couldn’t bear seeing the realization sink in.

Delano heard Lieselotte draw a breath. But before she could say anything, the doorbell rang downstairs, as if to save him.

“That must be the shelter people,” Lieselotte said, sounding cheerful again.

Delano’s chest felt warm. Fang. Finally.

The two made their way downstairs. Lieselotte made a beeline to the door, closely followed by Delano. As Lieselotte was just about to open the door, the doorbell rang again.

“Oh, sorry!” the person behind the door laughed. “I got impatient.”

“It’s fine,” Lieselotte laughed. “Thank you for-”

Delano stepped behind her, craning his neck to see if Fang was with the person. He could hear Fang’s nails click on the ground and her whine as she caught his scent.

Fang.

Delano fell to his knees as soon as he saw her straining against the leash the shelter worker had her in.

Fang.

She whined louder and barked, ecstatic to see Delano again. She strained against the leash so much that she rose up to her hind legs.

“You’re happy to be home, huh?” the shelter worker chuckled. “Can I let her go?”

“Of course,” Lieselotte said.

The shelter worker detached the leash from Fang’s collar and Fang leaped and ran to Delano and crashed into him.

Fang!

Delano hugged her close as she squirmed and whined, licking his face.

“It’s okay now,” Delano murmured. “It’s okay, baby, I got you now.” He was only vaguely aware of Lieselotte and the shelter worker talking to each other.

“Isn’t this lovely?” Lieselotte asked, closing the front door. “We’re back together again.” As if she ever was included in the “us” that was Delano and Fang.

“Yeah,” Delano said, still hugging Fang.

“We got her… uh. Dog stuff too,” Lieselotte said, lifting a small plastic bag. “You should check that everything is in there.”

After rooting through the plastic bag (with Fang’s help, of course), he confirmed that everything was in it. Fang’s bed, leash, her toys… And her bowls. Thank god. After confirming to Lieselotte that everything was in order, Delano took Fang to the yard.

As Delano had expected, Fang loved it. She rubbed her face on the grass and started rolling on it like she’s never experienced grass before. Delano watched her run around like a madman, filled with zest for life.

Delano heard the door open and close behind him. He turned to see Adriano step outside. “Is that Fang?” he asked, looking at Fang.

“Yup,” Delano said. “Fang!” Delano whistled, gaining Fang’s attention. He clapped his thigh and Fang trotted over, tail wagging rapidly.

“Fang, this is Adriano.”

Adriano knelt down to her, petting her head. Fang sniffed at his hand and licked it.

“She’s perfect,” Adriano said as he petted her. His voice broke a little.

Delano chuckled as Fang flopped over for belly rubs. “I’m glad you think so too.” He passed on a squeaky ball to Adriano.

As soon as Fang saw it, she flipped back to her paws, settling with her elbows on the ground. With a smile, Adriano threw the ball, and Fang bounced after it. She brought it back to Adriano, who then threw it again.

Adriano and Fang played fetch until she was so exhausted that she laid at Adriano’s feet, panting with her tongue out.

“I haven’t seen her run like that in a while,” Delano said with a grin.

“How does she regularly get exercise?” Adriano asked.

“On walks on the lower levels,” Delano replied, smile shrinking. “Sometimes I sneak to a dog park on the upper mid-level.”

Adriano hummed, smooshing Fang’s ears. He was quiet for a moment. “How much has mom…” He fell silent again. “What should I call you?”

Delano’s eyebrows rose, before they lowered back down in a frown. Being called “dad”... No. No thanks. “Just my name should be good,” he said.

Adriano nodded, relaxing a little. “Yeah, he said. I can do that.”

Delano frowned. “You don’t want to call me dad?” On one hand, it was a relief to him…

Adriano frowned down at the grass. “I- I don’t know how to say this,” he said.

Delano waited for him to find his words.

Finally, Adriano turned to face him. “Delano, I’m not your child. Mom adopted me when I was five.”