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umbralsound-xiv · 2 years

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Finally, after lon’ bleedin’ last, i were able t’leave m’room. Coughin’ up a whole fuckin’ field worth’ve flowers ain’ been no fun, but finally they managed t’get a cure fer it all.

S’been a while since i saw folk. Mahi’a been one’ve ‘em. Bexy’s tol’ me that they seem t’be holdin’ up okay, but...

S’always nice t’see wit’ y’own eye, yeah?

Zhav Karahli knocks on the door. Loudly. It is a constant assault on the door, Zhav's voice heard from the other side. "Ey! Mahi'a! Y'in there! Y'sleepin'?" A pause, and a mumble. "...Well, probably ain' no more, after that." She clears her throat. "I brought y'somethin' t'eat!"

Mahi'a Tehrfel raises their head in alarm, the sudden noise far from expected in the otherwise quiet room. They pause, if only to see if there is a break in the knocking to answer without having to move too far, eventually giving up. "I'm here and not sleeping," they call back, thinking for a second. "Weren't you sick? You don't need to bring me things... you can come in!"

Zhav Karahli opens the door with her rump, a small hoarde of dishes comically piled onto one tray which would have never fit even if she had tried her best. A short prod with the toes of her foot sees the door close behind her. "Were! Past tense! Been picking petals out've m'fuckin' teeth fer th'last fuck knows 'ow long, but they finally cured us, so i've been takin' it easy since. Figured i'd make some food, an' i wanted t'come check in on ya!" She chimes, walking up the stairs.

Mahi'a Tehrfel gives her a look of concern once she comes into view regardless of what she says, along with a small smile. Sat amongst the papers on the desk, they've seemingly added to the piles with what look to be folded paper creations of fish or... fish-like shapes, most in various unfinished states. "I am glad you're better, that's not... the most pleasant of situations. A worse version of when people claim that flowers are good to eat, for whatever insane reason they come up with."

Zhav Karahli: "They are! Well, they can be. Some taste like ass, y'jus' gotta know which'ns to eat." The veritable... Pile of dishes, ten in all, is set nearby on the boxes, a jug of something iced and honey coloured rattling against two glasses. "So, how're you?" She eyes them over, more of a cursory glance than anything prying. "...An'... What're you doin'?"

They’re lookin’ okay, which’s better’n not. Ain’ look sick, despite everythin’. Still, a meal shared’s does wonders, i reckon, so i brought plenty t’eat!

Mahi'a Tehrfel grimaces, clearly doubtful. "They'd taste like flowers, which is bad enough," they comment, watching her place the large amount of dishes down curiously. "I'm okay. Are you? How long have you been feeling well for?" They give her another smile, only mildly defensive to try and prevent any further questions. "...Making fish, kind of. If I can get them right."

Zhav Karahli: "Been not contagious f'a few suns now, been gettin' m'strength up by cookin'. An' flowers ain' all bad! Some's real sweet! I, uh, made biscuits with some pressed in, but y'can always pick them out if y'ain' wanna eat that bit."

Zhav briefly eyes the scattered pile of food-containing porcelain. "...I hope y'hungry." She remarks, and looks to the paper, then. "...Fish? Out've paper?" A brow lofts. "Why?"

Mahi'a Tehrfel nods along as she speaks, fiddling with the somewhat fish shaped piece of paper in their hands meanwhile. "...Well, I can take your word for it and try it. Maybe I have only tried the bad flowers before," they say quickly. "Were you preparing for the possibility that I hadn't eaten since you'd taken ill? That'd be... a little fair, honestly."

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "The fish... the fish have a silly reason, but they are fun to make. Or at least, work out how to make them right, their bodies are the hardest part."

Zhav Karahli kneels down, setting the plates onto the floor and various other places. "Well... Here, y'go, if'n y'wanna try one now." She holds up a small, palm-sized biscuit. A violet has been pressed into the middle, which has then been sprinkled heavily with sugar. "...An', well, not that i think y'can't look after y'self, but when y'busy with other stuff, s'always nice t'have a proper meal, even if y'ain' always got time t'cook one. I were worried, Mahi'a. Moreso when i couldn' go check m'self an' jus' had t'take Bexy's word fer it. Food's jus'... A lil extra." She glances to the plates. "...Well, lot extra, but eh. It'll keep!" She wanders closer, looking over at the fish. "...If it's keepin' y'happy, ain' a silly reason. What is it? An' can y'teach me? Looks like that Eastern stuff... What'd they call it?"

Zhav Karahli: "....Whorey Gami?"

Mahi'a Tehrfel watches her distribute the plates in order to find the correct one, the biscuit she reveals gaining a slightly more dubious examination. Still, as she comes closer they extend a hand to accept it from her, making sure to give the violet a gentle prod with a finger once it's in their hand. "...That is a good point," they admit, trying to look as reassuring as possible. "I am okay now. Though I appreciate the food, it is easy to forget about, not nearly as much to worry about."

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "I hope I didn't make it much worse for you." Mahi'a nods again, then pauses as she makes a guess. "...Origami, yes. It is that, one of my friends gifted me a book on it a while ago, every now and then it's fun to try and make something. Or try and create a new pattern but that is... decidedly harder, I have found."

Zhav Karahli: "'m glad t'hear you're doin' okay, Mahi'a." She plucks up a biscuit of her own, biting it in half with a chomp. "Origami... Huh. Looks kinda finiky, but i get th'appeal." She shakes her head. "You ain' make nothin' worse f'me, no. There's folks who'd've come looked out f'you if somethin'd've happened, 'm sure. My own recovery were... Kinda lonely, if'm honest. Bexy stopped t'chat through the door sometimes. Granted, at least i weren' alone. I 'ad Zihre."

Mahi'a Tehrfel may have been waiting to see her reaction while eating the biscuit, taking a bite of theirs once they are content enough. "Still, not the best time to have to worry about anyone else when you're suffering yourself. Bexy has checked on me, so it... hasn't been terrible. It sounds as if she has been very busy with everyone sick or... not great to some degree."

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "It's good you had Zihre, even if you were both sick. Not that I can imagine there was too much talking if you're coughing up flowers..."

Zhav Karahli: "Eh, she's a field commander. She's got...a... Field, t'command, or whatever. Not t'mention plenty've folk bendin' 'er ear." Zhav takes a second, final bite of her biscuit. "...Aye, yeah. She feels a bit guilty, since... She got m'sick. But she weren' t'know. I ain' blame 'er f'it. You were there too, weren' you? At that fight?"

I’d rather ‘er make m’sick an’ me help ‘er rather than stick it through alone. It were shite, sure it were! But we both pulled through, thankfully ‘nough.

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "Does that make us the field, rather than being out on the field?" Mahi'a wonders aloud, looking down at their biscuit as they think. "With it being contagious, it was likely to happen anyway, we'd have always found out the hard way. Not her fault at all."

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "...I was. And now I wonder if I got anyone sick too, but... I don't think I was around too many people afterwards."

Zhav Karahli: "Probably f'the best, even if bein' alone f'too long ain' always th'best." Zhav nods, eyeing the pile of paper fish again for a moment. "...Eh, i think it's more of a... Location thing? I ain' know. I've fought with 'er a couple times, but not s'much wit' the company."

Zhav Karahli: "Always meant t'ask, though. Zihre mentioned fightin' beside you. How'd you fight?"

‘eard she mentioned that they fought, i just ain’ recall ‘ow. Always somethin’ that catches m’attention. Figure it sometimes says a lot about folk learnin’ how they fight!

Mahi'a Tehrfel nods slowly in agreement, following her gaze for a moment to try and deduce what she is staring at. "It's nothing to worry about now, at least. Not now there is a way to fix it, we're safe from flowers for now. Unless someone picks the wrong ones for cooking..." They look back at the biscuit at that, though the thought does not stop them from finishing it.

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "I have a gun, so usually that. As far away from the others if I can really help it."

Zhav Karahli: "Y'shouldn' pick stuff y'ain' know about. Guarantee nothin' here'll leave y'feelin' sick... Unless y'eat all of it at once, then that's on you!" Zhav flashes a toothy grin at the comment. "...Huh. Ain' never much sure how i thought y'fought, but it makes sense. Ain' got a good relationship w'firearms, m'self. I prefer anythin' bladed, personally. What made y'pick firearms?"

Mahi'a Tehrfel smiles. "I'll avoid that as best I can, if only to avoid the inevitable 'I told you so' that I'll hear later down the line..." they joke. "Uh, a few reasons, really. Mostly because I hadn't seen anything like it before and wanted to give it a go, and everything else required much more... physical training."

Zhav Karahli: "...Makes sense. Ain' f'everyone, physical stuff. But y'pick what works f'you, an' run wit' it." She looks back to the plates, and to the jug. "Y' -are- hungry, aren' you, Mahi'a?" She confirms, picking up a small bowl of stew to offer towards them. "M'first weapon were th'axe. Were a good fit, still m'favourite."

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "I'm not very good at it. Perhaps I'll try and get better one day, but... that would take a lot of time and effort." Mahi'a gives a small frown, though it doesn't last, almost habitually taking the bowl once it is offered towards them. "I am a little, actually. Depending on how much of what you've brought you expect me to eat..." they say. "Do you fight with anything else as well?"

Zhav Karahli: "...Well, better t'eat the things which're still warm. S'two bowls; i wedged a fire crystal between 'em t'stop it goin' cold. S'spiced boar stew! S'a favourite back at th'Clan." Zhav nods, and begins pouring from the pitcher. Several slices of lemon and icecubes make their way into the drink, which she sets on the side of the desk for Mahi'a. "Yeah. Daggers... Polearm. Bare hands, or Baghnakhs. Sword 'n shield. Greatsword, but it's been a while. Uh..."

You gaze upon Mahi'a Tehrfel in deep reflection.

Zhav Karahli: "...Nothin' else springin' t'mind right now."

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "Oh! You made this for me before, it is good. Even if I do get the smallest feeling of this being like the healers making sure I am doing what I am meant to in the infirmary..." Mahi'a grins briefly. "That's... quite a lot, more than I expected. I thought people wouldn't focus on more than one or two if anything."

Zhav Karahli: "Well, if it makes y'feel any better, i ain' been told t'do nothin' by any healers, only t'look after m'self an' take it steady." She takes a drink, wiggling an ear. "Well, i'm a Warmaiden. S'kinda part an' parcel've th'duty, knowin' as much's i can 'bout weapons, 'mongst a bunch've other things."

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "I won't start to fear one of them lurking around the corner making sure I eat, then. Not just yet," they say with a small nod. "What exactly does a Warmaiden do other than knowing a lot about weapons?"

Zhav Karahli: "Well, aside learnin' how y'fight with 'em... I teach most've th'Clan, an' decide their weapon assignments when they come've age t'have a weapon've their own. I forge an' make arms an' armor, 'mongst plenty've other stuff. As well as lead m'Warband into battle if it ever comes t'that, an' protect m'Matriarch with m'life."

Mahi'a Tehrfel eyes her in contemplation, likely trying to explain all she says in turn. "That's a lot to be responsible for, do you have to do it all yourself?"

Zhav Karahli: "Well, kinda. Part've it is teachin', which naturally means sometimes th'do it themselves. But ultimately, its m'own responsibility."

Zhav Karahli: "S'less a job... More a rank. S'a lot've work, but i'd 'ave it no other way."

Mahi'a Tehrfel nods again, halting their staring by turning their attention back down to the bowl of stew. "Mmm... A lot of pressure, but it does sound rewarding. Especially teaching people and making things for them. And I bet it keeps you busy, I'm surprised you have the time to check up on people on top of all of it."

Zhav Karahli: "Eh, s'jus' a balance. I ain' 'ave much time t'myself, but... I prefer spendin' it wit' other people anyway. I got an apprentice now, anyhow! It's... It's been a lon' time comin', so." She slowly rolls her shoulders.

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "Well balanced for you, in that case. So Zihre will be a Warmaiden too one day? Can there be two at once, or do you have to step down before she can be one?"

Zhav Karahli: "Eeeh..." Zhav makes a face, offering a simpering smile. "...She'll be Warmaiden most likely, aye. But we ain' get two at once, no. I ain' step down, Mahi'a. Ain' our way. I'll die. Most likely in battle, sometime're other."

...Still remember when it ‘appened t’me. I figured i’d have way longer t’prepare, but... Well. Life be like that, sometimes.

I got faith in Zihre f’when it happens, whenever it does.

Zhav Karahli: "...Fuckin' better be in a battle. An' no time soon, but... Eh. I'm gettin' on in m'years. Oldest Warmaiden yet!"

You beam with delight at Mahi'a Tehrfel.

Mahi'a Tehrfel tries their best not to react, though ends up frowning in the end, at least continuing to look down at the bowl rather than direct it to her. "Oh." Another short pause follows. "I guess that makes... sense. You don't seem very old, though. Maybe that just says a lot about the nature of the job..."

Zhav Karahli makes a face. "'ow old d'ya think i am? I ain' no mewlin', that's fer sure! Ain' started slowin' down jus' yet, got plenty've life left in me."

Zhav Karahli: "'m at least ten cycles older'n th'last Warmaiden."

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "...Guessing ages is dangerous. I didn't mean that you seem very young! Just not... old..." Mahi'a falters a little. "Maybe... late thirties?"

Zhav Karahli: "Forty one, an' still countin!" Zhav grins widely, seemingly... Proud? Of the amount of cycles she had lived. "I reckon i might go another ten if'm lucky. Maybe a couple more. Won' be too ambitious, aye?"

You beam with delight at Mahi'a Tehrfel.

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "I was close enough!" Mahi'a smiles, mirroring a small amount of pride at their guess. "A few more than that would be nice, so that everyone else can selfishly keep you around for company."

Zhav Karahli: "Well, i ain' plan on givin' up, that's f'sure! I plan on stickin' 'bout as long as Menphina'll let me. An' at least when i go, th'Clan'll be in safe hands."

Zhav Karahli: "...Ain' a feelin' t'mourn, that one. Death's always at least a lil' bit sad. But it ain' all it's gotta be."

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "Who else would bring me a mountain of food? She surely has to take that much into account," Mahi'a jokes quietly. "I guess so. That might be best not to think about until it actually happens, in any case. For now it is no problem that needs tackling."

Zhav Karahli: "Some ain' like t'think 'bout dyin'. S'a fair opinion've it, if'm honest." Zhav takes another long drink. "An' i'll get Zihre to. Ain' taught 'er t'cook yet. But she'll get there."

You beam with delight at Mahi'a Tehrfel.

Mahi'a Tehrfel nods. "First the fighting, weapons, smithing... then the cooking, very well rounded skills." They smile, thinking for a moment. "...If I had a recipe, could you help me make it? Just in case things go wrong."

Zhav Karahli: "Aye! Course i can! I ain' th'worlds best cook're nothin', jus'--- Uhhh..." Zhav makes a face, glancing to the dizzying amount of books... And back. "...Y'might 'ave t'help me read it."

Mahi'a Tehrfel follows her glances to the books, their gaze lingering. "Of course, I can do that. I don't have it yet so... it probably won't be any time in the immediate future, but the help probably means I won't cause a disaster. Not without trying incredibly hard."

Zhav Karahli: "Ain' much f'cookin'?" Zhav asks, head tilted. She brings up another plate; this one an assortment of sweetened and roasted nuts, rolled in sugar. She offers the bowl to Mahi'a, and takes a handful for herself. "What kind've recipe d'ya think it'll be?"

Mahi'a Tehrfel shakes their head as the nuts are offered, coming to terms with just how much she had brought in with her. "No, not really. I have made..." They take a second. "Toast. I am very good at making toast, as long as I watch it. And I can put things in a pot and make them warm again, a valuable skill."

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "It will be a soup."

Zhav Karahli: "...Soup! Soups're good. Actually, honestly pretty hard t'fuck up soup unless you add waaaay too much've th'wrong spices. If it's got spices in it, anyhow. It should, if it's a good one."

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "It should have spices in it... I'm not sure which ones yet. There are a lot of different kinds, aren't they? I'm sure the ones I need will be downstairs somewhere."

Zhav Karahli: "Aye! An' if not, i can probably pick 'em up from somewhere. Can even teach y't'make bread f'the soup while we're waitin' on it cookin', if y'like?"

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "There will be enough time to make bread?" Mahi'a asks in surprise. "I may have underestimated how much time it makes to cook soup - or overestimated the bread... Either way, that could be interesting. I would like to, yes."

Zhav Karahli: "I dunno, maybe! Some soup ain' take long. Some takes hours. Y'know how lon' this stew takes? Twelve bells. Eight, if i'm rushin'. There's practically a fuckin' fight t'get t'the front've th'line if i make it at th'Clan. But aye! Bread! Bread's pretty good fer stress relief, too."

Zhav Karahli: "Ever real mad at somethin' an' y'can't do nothin' about it? Beat th'fuck out've some bread dough."

Mahi'a Tehrfel looks at their bowl with a small amount of awe. "I would never have guessed it took so long. If they have been smelling it for a few bells, no wonder they are more than ready by the time it is done."

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "Hitting bread dough is definitely an experience I wouldn't mind having..."

Zhav Karahli: "Well, it's a labour of love! I ain' never consider it perfect. Cooked fer so long so all th'meat drops t'bits, an' even s'much as a drop've th'broth ain' wasted --- Hence th'bread! If it's a short soup, i can always mix th'dough an' let you beat th'shite out've it if we ain' got th'time t'make it in full!"

Mahi'a Tehrfel smiles. "Worth all of the time. If we don't get the chance to make it all, maybe another time for the whole thing. Beating it up is the most important part for now, after all."

Zhav Karahli: "S'the most fun part, f'sure!" She grins, and looks at the plates. "...So's y'know, this'll keep fer a bit. I ain' intend f'you to eat it all at once! but, feel free t'share if y'got guests're somethin'! I gotta get back t'Zihre, we got some stuff t'go over. But i'll be seein' you 'bout, aye?"

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "I am looking forward to giving it a go!" Mahi'a glances to the plates, then back to Zhav. "I don't think eating it all at once is physically possible, but I will keep that in mind! You can be assured that I will not starve in the immediate future, thank you for all of it."

You laugh at Mahi'a Tehrfel.

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "You might see me, or I will be in here which is not too far away!"

Zhav Karahli: "Ain' mention it, Mahi'a! I got a pearl if'n y'need me, but i'll drop by every now'n then t'check in, aye?" She beams.

Zhav Karahli: "'Til then, look after y'self!"

Mahi'a Tehrfel: "Sure, if you have the time then I wouldn't mind the company at all - you too!"

Zhav Karahli beams, giving a short wave before she makes her way out of the door. "Be well, Mahi'a!" She chimes, before leaving the way she came.

You bid farewell to Mahi'a Tehrfel.

#Muse: [Zhav]#Chapter: [An Apprentice Appointed]#FFXIV #IC #Screenshot #Writing #Snippet

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ghostlyalpacawolf · 2 years

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tastesoftamriel · 3 years

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What are some of the most complex dishes you've learned to cook from the different cuisines of Tamriel, and what are some timesavers you've figured out along the way?

Bonus points for not including the age old tip of preparing in bulk ahead of time lol

I'll be honest, while I'm perfectly capable of making elaborate foods, I'm a simple Riften chef at heart. But for the purpose of this question, here's a list of some of my more fantastical creations, made with no magic- just patience and love.

To firstly answer your question on time savers...and you're going to be sorely disappointed as I cook very slowly as it's meditative to me. Everything I do is deliberate and at a steady pace, so my advice would be to not rush your cooking for best results. Start early, finish on time. Preparing in advance can help, but I personally never do it myself!

Altmer

One of the most notoriously difficult dessert dishes to make, coined by The Gourmet of Summerset, is a tiered crumble of raspberry coulis, clotted cream, and butterscotch biscuit sand, topped with a raspberry and wrapped in a spherical balloon of spun sugar. The sugar alone is an absolute nightmare to form, but it was a fun challenge.

Argonians

Argonian dishes seem straightforward, but some require a lot of skill to make. Take, for example, humble ox-tail soup with vegetables and steamed saltrice. There's a trick to getting the meat tender enough to fall off the bone, while still maintaining a balance with the mixed swamp vegetables and sticky saltrice to make a filling meal.

Bosmer

I may have mentioned this before, but Bosmeri cooking can often be extremely difficult to pull off, especially when you can only eat meat. The most elaborate dish I've made was probably a towering trio of forest creatures for my friend Berrilyn's birthday party, shaped like a graht-oak. It featured stacked towers of lollipop-style salt and pepper bantam guar drumsticks, battered frog legs, and venison meatballs, with a creamy jagga, cheese and bacon sauce for dipping. That sauce is particularly finicky as it has a habit of separating, so that was a challenge to get right!

Bretons

Croquembouche, without a doubt. The patience required to make every little profiterole perfect, then stick them together in a swirling tower with burning hot caramel, is enormous. I am the sort of chef who does not enjoy making these things, because it was arduous. However, it looks great and tastes even better (profiteroles filled with my signature smoked whiskey and vanilla-tonka paste creme patissiere- need I say more?)

Dunmer

The Dunmer are real sticklers about food presentation, and everything should be orderly, balanced in flavour, and presentable. My most complex Dunmeri dish would probably be the scuttle soufflé with greef flambé. Not only is the scuttle known for collapsing at the slightest bit of moisture, the greef flambé can and has in fact singed the eyebrows off the server. Add to that the careful, careful flavouring- a hint of marshmerrow and gold kanet in the scuttle of a very precise amount, so as not to overwhelm the flavour of the scuttle. Sorry, trade secret.

Imperials

A healer can cure a sick man in a day, and I can make an excellent roast elk in the same time. Yes, 24 hours are needed to make this dish, from "embalming" the carcass in salt and a secret selection of herbs, to being basted in Surilie Brothers, and being slow-roasted on a spit overnight. This develops a smoky flavour in the meat, and it's a delightfully flavourful and tender roast that's favoured by Emperors and upstarts alike.

Khajiit

The reason that Khajiiti cooking is so complex is that everything revolves around moon sugar, and flavours have a habit of getting warped if an inexperienced chef is at work. For example, I once created a most divine coal-grilled pork belly, served with a sweet vanilla and moon sugar cream, and a pinch of salt and cinnamon. The umami, crispy pork belly is carefully topped with sweet cream, and sprinkled with Topal Bay sea salt and cinnamon. Delightful to look at, great as an appetiser, and even better to eat.

Nords

My Nord Honey Cake is fairly simple to make if you follow the instructions, but it's an art to get it to ferment the right way. In Skyrim, the preparation of fermented honey cake is always a closely-guarded family secret (some include other spices like cinnamon and cardamom, for example). For me, I serve my honey cake straight up with mead- but the maturation process is complex and the secret to getting it to taste so good!

Orcs

Orcs aren't fans of food that isn't straightforward, but feeding a Stronghold of 80 Orsimer is a difficult task unto itself. Preparing a day ahead is necessary in this regard as cobbling together your ingredients is a chore unto itself when you're feeding so many. One of my greatest challenges was a three-course dinner for an Orc clan, consisting of smoked deer and olive pate and potato bread, mammoth cream stew with millet and mammoth cheese, and snowberry trifle for dessert. These dishes are all time-dependent, so this was a true balancing act!

Redguards

Hammerfell desserts are opulent and as nice to look at as they are to eat. My greatest accomplishment in terms of Redguard cuisine would therefore be a coconut Emperor's cake, with layers upon layers of millefeuille and a firm (but never stiff!) coconut cream. Add to that a topping of fig-and-honey mini macarons, and you'll find yourself busy with just the dessert for hours.

#the elder scrolls #tes #cooking #Food #world building #Worldbuilding #Asks

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anne-i-write · 4 years

Text

sweet love

| who would have known that the local bakery could get sebastian to show his soft spot |

sebastian moran x reader

word count: 3609

tw: sexual implications but no actual spice (mostly from sebastian’s “flirting”)

a/n: a little new years gift from me to all of you! i’m sorry it took so long to get another post up but i enjoyed writing this one! hopefully sebastian isn’t too ooc in this idk ig i just have a thing for making characters ooc but it’s very sweet and possibly tooth rotting. i also realize that i got carried away making this one and now you can read through my brain rot lol. ALSO APPARENTLY HES 6’6 THE MAN COULD ABSOLUTELY PUNT ME WHAT anyhow, i hope you all enjoy!! p.s. if you see grammatical errors and incoherent sentences, i just copy pasted from google docs lmao good luck

Sebastian grumbled under his breath, annoyed with the work that William had him do.

“‘Those who do not work in this house aren’t treated as people.’” Sebastian scoffed as he glanced over at the list. “Louis should be glad I’m on good terms with William.”

The ex-colonel should’ve been back at the estate an hour ago but he felt somewhat spiteful and decided to stay out longer. He had finished everything he needed but he had no clue what to do. It was already lunch and his stomach was silently growling but he refused to face the brothers just yet.

That was until he stopped in front of a quaint bakery with the words Fox’s Biscuits painted on a hanging sign.

“Isn’t this…” He looked at the bakery window, mouthwatering biscuits on display for everyone to see.

“These are the biscuits Father bought for me when I was younger.”

Longing for a sense of his childhood, Sebastian walked into the small shop.

In an instant, the sickly sweet smell of chocolate hit his nose and the bell above the door rang out. It was a small space but one could feel the dedication put into the little treats. “Hello?” Sebastian called out as soon as he realized he had been alone for at least two minutes.

“Just a moment!”

Crashes and clangs could be heard from behind a door that presumably led to a kitchen. You burst through the door, your apron stained with chocolate and your right cheek was covered in a light dust of flour.

Sebastian stared at you with wide eyes, not sure if he should focus on the disorderly ruin that was yourself or the absolute charm that you carried. “You have a little something—” He pointed to his cheek and your cute eyes widened a smidge.

You frantically turned around, swiping at both cheeks and turning around when you felt like you were clean. “How may I help you today?”

Sebastian’s heart skipped a beat when you smiled widely, his cheeks feeling a little flush. He shook his head.

“Those biscuits by the door; how much are they?” You took a step to the side to see which one he was talking about. “Oh, it’s 10 shillings for each one.” You informed him, walking to the stacked treats with a cloth in hand. “How many would you like?”

A sly grin painted Sebastian’s features and he turned to face you. “3 pieces please.” You barely picked up the second biscuit before you felt a presence looming behind you. “Perhaps, I can have you too if I pay extra.” He whispered in your ear.

Heat spread across your face as you quickly shoved the rest of the biscuits in the small bag. You shoved the biscuits his way and held out your other hand expectantly. “Th-That’s 30 shillings!” You cursed the way you stuttered.

Sebastian laughed at your flustered state as he handed you the payment. He shot you a teasing glance.

“I can’t bake very well but I can show you how good I am with my hands.” Your eyes widened again at the implication and you shoved him towards the exit.

“Thank you for coming to our bakery!” You breathed out a sigh of relief. One patron down… only many more to come.

The ex-colonel swung the bag leisurely as he strode into the manor, forgetting about lunch. “Where were you, Sebastian?” Louis asked as soon as he opened the door.

“Getting myself food.”

The bell rang in your little family shop and you smiled, heading out to greet the next customer with freshly baked biscuits in hand.

“Good afternoon–” Your smile dropped when you realized who came into the bakery.

“What’s with the frown, sweetheart?” Sebastian cooed and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you not wish I would come back?”

“I wish you never came at all.” The man stilled for a moment but laughed when you walked past him to restock the display case. “You were here yesterday, were you not?” He turned to see you carefully placing the treats on the platter. “Yes but I’m here to buy more of those delicious biscuits you sell.”

Sebastian stalked closer to you just as you spun around to point the tray in his face. “Personal space, please.” He raised his hands in resignation and backed up. You walked back to the counter to place the warm tray on top. “You weren’t complaining yesterday.”

“I didn’t expect yesterday. Now, how many biscuits would you like?” Before he opened his mouth, you continued. “And buy enough so I don’t have to see you again.”

Sebastian laughed again, enjoying your quips. “You seem very spirited today, m’love.” You rolled your eyes. “Either you buy something or you can get out of the shop.” The man walked towards you but you stood your ground this time, arms crossed.

“Your biscuits are delicious but I bet you taste even better.” Your face heated up and Sebastian grinned. “Th-The way out is right behind you.”

Why do I always stutter?

“You’re adorable when you get shy on me.” You shot him a pointed glare and he chuckled. “I’ll have the whole display.” Sebastian thoroughly enjoyed the way your shy attitude appeared when he spoke.

“Th-The whole—” Sebastian chuckled and leaned on a nearby wall. “Yes, sweetheart; the whole case.” Of course, you needed the money but could the man even afford it?

“Th-That’s 100 shillings.” Sebastian took another glance at the display and shook his head. “Come now sweetheart, all of that is at least 600 shillings.” You shook your head.

“600 shillings is too much!” The thought of even getting mad at his previous words flew out of your head as he insisted on paying the full price. “Please, I’ll lower the price.”

Sebastian smiled as he reached into his coat and pulled out a satchel of coins. “It must have taken a painstakingly long time to make all those biscuits, it’s only right I pay you in full.” He placed the bag on the counter and you slid it back towards him. “I don’t have time to count 100 shillings! Please, that would be more than enough.”

This continued on for another ten minutes before he finally got you to settle on paying half of the original price.

“Enjoy your biscuits!” You called out to him just as the door barely closed behind him. Thankfully the door had a large glass pane and he turned around, offering a small wave before walking off.

You watched as he left the front of the shop and your eyes drifted to the empty display case.

“What in God’s name happened.”

Sebastian was aware that the last time he saw you was the other day, but he did comprehend that coming back the day after buying 60 biscuits would look rather odd. Telling Louis he had to run an errand in the town, the ex-colonel set off to your little bakery. Considering how empty it was the last two times he saw you, Sebastian expected it to be the same.

What he didn’t expect was a large crowd that seemed too big to be inside of the bakery.

Sebastian carefully opened the door and was greeted with the bustling sound of people chatting as they waited for their treats. Being the tall man he was, he searched for you in the crowd until he saw you rush out of the kitchen with your hair a complete mess.

“Thank you for being so patient, have a great day!” You said breathlessly and the patron nodded, wishing you well before leaving. They passed by Sebastian and he watched as they left the shop. He turned his attention back to you, who wore the same smile that made his heart stutter as you helped the next customer.

God only knows how long Sebastian was in the shop but the last customer left and you slumped against the counter. “Is that how you hold yourself in front of your patrons?” You groaned and he laughed.

“You bought 60 biscuits the other day and I still have to make the next batch, why are you back?” You glanced up at him and he shrugged. “Can I not wait for the biscuits?” You kept staring at him and he shot you a questioning glance.

“I can give you an estimated time for when the biscuits are done.” You yawned as you stood up and stretched. “I saw you come in a while ago, do you not have anywhere to be?”

Sebastian leaned against the counter and sighed. “Not today.”

Not having the energy to make him leave, you simply walked back into the kitchen and he watched as the door swung behind you.

It had been three minutes since you disappeared behind the doors and Sebastian was about to leave before you emerged from the kitchen. “If you’re staying until I make the next batch, then I want you to try this.” You said as you place down a small plate with two chocolate covered biscuits. “My father doesn’t know about these so I want to see if these taste good.” He took a glance at the plate and looked up at you.

“You couldn’t try them yourselves?” He asked as you stood across from him, arms folded. “I’d be favored to like them because I made them.” A beat of silence passed as you stared at each other.

“They’re not poisoned, if that’s what you’re worried about.” An impressed look crossed Sebastian’s face as he picked up the biscuit and ate it. You watched closely as the man in front of you chewed your creation. “Is that jam and cream?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s indecent.” Sebastian snorted as he took another bite. “You sound like my mum.” You smiled softly as he started to reach for the second one.

“Keep staring like that, I might have to eat something else.” He said as he winked at you.

“Y-You—!”

Sebastian’s visits became routine and each time he came in, your day got a little better. You scoffed. Like you would ever tell him that.

“Darling!” Sebastian called out as he opened the door. “You know, I don’t even know your name and you’ve been coming here for two weeks.” You stated as you cleaned down the counter.

“Aw, you want to put a name to a face so you can moan it tonight?” He cooed and you slammed your towel down, flustered. “O-One day without suggesting those things! I-Is that too much to ask?” Sebastian laughed and you went back to furiously wiping down the counter.

He smiled as he walked towards you and placed his hand on yours. “If you keep scrubbing like that, the wood will wear down.” You sighed and relaxed your grip on the washing cloth. “Your hands are warm.” You said and he chuckled.

“The cloth’s gone cold.” He pointed out and you rolled your eyes. “I didn’t realize.” Sebastian snorted and took the cloth out of your hands. “Here.” He took both of your hands and held them in his, breathing out slowly on them. He looked at you, taking note of the dark circles under your eyes.

If you were working yourself that much, he would make you take this short break to relax.

You looked up at your hands and suddenly felt shy at the intimate contact. “(Y/N),” you muttered, looking away.

Sebastian glanced up at you and huffed softly. “Sebastian.” You continued to let him warm up your hands.

A serene silence fell over the two of you as he exhaled softly on your hands.

That was until your sister barged into the shop, back from the market. “(Y/N)!” All three of you paused as you stared at each other. You watched as your sister’s eyes traveled from yours to your intertwined hands and you instantly flared up.

“I was just handing him biscuits!” You yelped, yanking your hands out of Sebastian’s. You looked at him and nodded your head towards the exit. “Thank you so much for coming!” Sebastian grinned and he leaned in closer to you. “I’ll come back for you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

He knew he said this loud enough for you sister to hear. “Good day!” He smiled innocently, nodding to the girl by the door and walked out.

You watched as he left, not noticing your sister walking up and taking her place next to you. She watched with you as Sebastian walked away and took note of the subtle starry gaze in your eyes.

“Now I understand why you always want to watch the shop.”

You fidgeted as Sebastian walked into the shop once again. What was this? His 40th time at the shop? You shook your head. It didn’t matter.

I will ask him!

“What’s troubling you, sweetheart?” Even through the teasing tone, you could hear some worry and you just decided to spit it out.

“Would you like to accompany me to the moorish dance tonight?” Sebastian’s eyes widened as you stared up at him with unintentionally large eyes. The man knew he had a persona to hold in front of you but felt himself failing as he struggled to fight the blush rising on his cheeks.

“Only if you’ll accompany me to my bed tonight.” He watched as your eyes narrowed and you puffed out your chest, crossing your arms. “Forget I asked.” He laughed as you turned away from him. “I’m just playing around!” You stuck your tongue out childishly and turned away again.

“You’re pouting!”

“No I’m not!”

You two continued to bicker until he apologized, albeit through laughs. “I’m serious though, Sebastian.” He looked at you with a fond smile and he exhaled.

“I’d be honored.” You turned to face him with the same smile you used when you first greeted him, except this time it was wider and you looked like you were about to bounce over the counter. “But I really thought I would be the first to ask you.”

“Let customs lay themselves to rest for a bit, Sebastian.”

The dance was some time later at night so you decided to close shop early and walk around the town with Sebastian.

He had never seen you so talkative before and it was very interesting to see you speak without having to put him in his place every five minutes.

“So, do you and your sister run the bakery by yourselves?” Sebastian asked as you walked down the bustling road. “Lately. My father had been overworking himself so my sister and I decided to take over for him.” You smiled as a girl ran past your legs, her little brother following shortly after.

He watched on with a fond look as you continued talking about the bakery and all the baking mishaps that made you the person you were today. “That sounds like it requires a lot of effort.” You chuckled as you reached a secluded tree, not too far from the town but enough to be alone.

“It does, but the son of my father’s friend likes to help from time to time.” The sound of a possible competitor peaked his interest and sat down beside you on the grass. “The son of your father’s friend?” You nodded as you stared at the town and leaned on the tree.

“He’s a wonderful boy, very enthusiastic about helping me and my sister.” You turned to face him with an excited expression. “Oh, I’ll introduce you at the dance later! He’s helping the men set up but we should be able to see him!” The alpha male in Sebastian refused to let himself lose the one good thing he could possibly have in his life.

“You hid the whole jar?”

“Mrs. Pettor makes the best jams! I wasn’t going to let my family finish it!” Sebastian laughed as you defended yourself.

It was almost time for the dance and you both were walking to the town center.

“I’ve been talking all this time.” You realized and you turned to Sebastian. “Tell me more about—” You cut yourself off with a squeak as you were lifted off of your feet.

Sebastian watched as a blonde boy swung you around. “A-Alexander!” The boy put you down, a grin on his face.

The blond boy looked at you and you smiled back before Sebastian cleared his throat. “Oh, right!” You turned to face Sebastian and grinned. “Alexander, this is Sebastian! Sebastian, Alexander!” The shorter man held out his hand, blue eyes instantly hardening.

“Hello Sebastian,” Alexander said as Sebastian shook his hand. “Alexander.” You looked between the two and felt a tense aura emanating from them before you clapped your hands.

“Shall we go to the dance?” Alexander let go of Sebastian’s hand and immediately faced you. “Of course!” The blond grabbed your hand and you were barely able to get ahold of Sebastian’s before Alexander took off running.

Cheers and music filled the air and the sound of shoes hitting stone echoed throughout the streets. Despite knowing most of the faces, you spent most of your time talking with Sebastian about stories from each of your lives.

“(Y/N)!” You turned your head and saw Alexander heading towards you, out of breath and sweaty from dancing. You excused yourself from the conversation and Alexander stopped in front of you. “I never did thank you for working more than you should have these last few days.” You laughed as you waved him off. “It’s nothing you should thank me for, Alexander. My sister helped so it wasn’t all bad.”

Alexander took a glance at Sebastian, who had been mobbed by most of the town women and looked like he was trying to hold his own. “Would you like to dance?” His question caught you off guard. “I invited Sebastian, I couldn’t leave him…” You turned to see a group of girls crowding around the man and your smile faltered. “One dance wouldn’t hurt.”

“Sebastian!” He looked up from the group of girls and saw you waving. He was about to move until he saw your hand in Alexander’s. “I’m going to dance for a bit!” You laughed as Alexander pulled you to the dance area. Alexander chuckled at you as you told Sebastian of your whereabouts. At least you had the decency to tell him you were dancing with another man.

“So how’d you meet Sebastian?” Alexander asked as you danced to the music. “He came into the shop one day and just kept visiting!” You smiled and the boy in front of you exhaled softly, deciding to drop the topic and talk to your sister about it later.

The former colonel no longer focused on the girls in front of him as he watched you laugh hard at something Alexander said and his heart beat faster in his chest. Out of jealousy or awe, he couldn’t tell. But the way your eyes shone under the golden glow of the street lamps told him to move and get you.

He pushed his way through the crowd of ladies and kept his eyes trained on your carefree figure. Your skin looked so beautiful under this light, maybe you were the one who lit up the town. Your smile alone had enough energy to do so anyway.

“May I have a dance with (Y/N)?” Sebastian asked as he reached you and Alexander. The blond man smiled and your eyes sparkled in delight. “Of course.” Alexander gently let go of your hand and placed it in Sebastian’s.

“Thank you Alexander!” You called out and he turned around, sending you a soft smile and a small wave before walking towards your sister.

You turned your gaze back to Sebastian and you grinned. “Did you get jealous?” Sebastian scoffed before shaking his head. “I don’t get jealous.” You laughed as you felt Sebastian pull you closer. “I saw you looking at Alexander like he was going to steal me away.” You pointed out with a smug smile.

“He did steal you away.” You grinned at him.

“You’re pouting.”

“N-No I’m not!” You laughed and watched as the tips of his ears turned pink. “Aw, you’re adorable when you get shy on me!” You cooed, using the exact same words he said to you a while back.

“You—” He picked you up by the waist and you squealed as he lifted you up. “You think you’re so smart.” He muttered as he placed you back down and you looked up at him, your skin shining from sweat and short breaths leaving your lips.

He instantly leaned in, placing a short kiss on your lips and your eyes widened before trying to chase him before he pulled away. “You do taste better than your biscuits.” You buried your head in Sebastian’s chest in embarrassment and he laughed as he started to lead the dance once more.

“Because of that, I’m charging you the rest of the 60 biscuits you bought.” Sebastian feigned hurt. “But that’s too much!” You rolled your eyes and smiled up at him. “I’m sure if you don’t want to pay, Louis can help me find something for you to do to pay me back.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed and you giggled at the sour look on his face. “I’m sure you can help around the shop to pay them off, if you don’t want Louis to get involved.” His eyes softened before gently grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss to it.

“If it means I get to see you everyday, it will have been worth it.”

tags: @zoehanji @infinitebells

#moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #sebastian moran x reader #sebastian moran

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giotanner · 4 years

Text

Art Theft and Bullying in The Old Guard Fandom

Hey TOG fandom! Do you know that stealing art is a crime? Do you have a problem with bullying (“because that poc muslim artist deserves!11!” based on a random tumblr post) within Discord servers? You do?... then read on.

Please grab some cookies and tea (and get comfortable!) and read on. This is a SERIOUS matter that I, as an outsider, was able to see WITHOUT being influenced by anyone else. I am not friends with any of the people involved here, although after these events I have empathy towards them.

I’m telling you this so you won’t be able to say to me "you are allied with/you are influenced by"... That is not the case. I have facts and evidence, so please read! I will be talking about ART THEFT, BASHING, REPOSTING, AND DISGUSTING BULLYING BEHAVIOUR towards a person who is not even in the server. As a fellow fanartist I feel so bad because “this artist deserves it” in their mind.

(Now: apparently there is a part of the beautiful The Old Guard fandom that thinks: the characters and people’s headcanons are more important rather than an actual person's well-being, and with every new illustration by the artist, they are badly spoken of. Because… ugh, why not?)

I talked about facts, so here’s one:

If you joined this server (there are a couple servers with this name, please don't get mad at the wrong one - note the icon!) The first thing you know is: karanoidandroid is a racist and a homophobe… in their opinion. People and also these mods think this because of some posts on tumblr by white people. AH.

Why? Hearsay, bimbi belli. If you go to this artist's page you won't find a single racist thing (the artist is literally a POC who is brown and a Muslim. How? - you may say- What? Ah yes, she must be under "white influence! 11 !! bad POC !!" and who says that? Ah right, a white person. Or another POC with a different experience. wtf we have so many experiences, how can you say ‘you’re racist’ to a POC about this? Just because this artist’s preference is a different sex position, and no one is trying to force you to like it, eh!)

And from here on out... hatred. Terrible and personal hatred that has spread like wildfire. EVERYWHERE. Even people who know nothing about this fandom know that this artist is "racist and homophobic". Only.Because.Of.Hearsay.

So what did this artist do, you ask? She created a safe place on discord, away from tumblr. For people who like top!Joe. Don’t you like it? GOOD FOR YOU. That’s fantastic. We should as a fandom respect everyone's preference. This server was simply made so people could get away from tumblr and the drama and bullying. That’s it.

But did they leave this artist alone? No. The gossip had infected this fandom by now. It is now a "fact": this artist is x and y, you know. Because a couple people spread that, knowing nothing about the artist other than she was making a server they didn’t like.

Because THEY decided it. Because this artist decided not to fight and leave and you weren't satisfied with that.

Let’s BULLY a Muslim POC because we disagree with their views IN FANDOM! Because someone’s views on a CHARACTER are more important than an actual person, right? (According to sources who wished to remain anon, I know for sure the mod is white. A white mod is bullying and stealing the art of a brown Muslim woman because their views on FANDOM are different)

How?

READ these screenshots. They were posted a couple days ago. EVERY FUCKIN’ TIME this artist posted an art… they bully her. (So yeah, it’s NOT the first time)

No source, no link, no name. It was posted by a Mod (in blue) and the point is: a rule of this group is “don’t steal art/don’t put art without source” BUT HEY- WE’RE MODS and this artist deserves it!11!!1!)

This poc muslim artist didn’t insist on “top!joe only”. It’s just her preference, you know? I don’t care about people’s preferences. If you want to read more about how racial issues have somehow gotten involved in sexual position preferences, check out this post by +lgbtq poc with a degree in Medieval Islamic History x (note: his blog is gone (bullying again!) so the link is to a reblog)

“Where is the source?’ a person asks. They don’t want to put the source and THEY’RE THE MODS, they made that the R U L E.

But you already know, again only by hearsay: “the artist is homophobic and top!joe is full of bullshit”. (A mantra - but they’re NOT IN THE SERVER to know. It’s an assumption) What bullshit? I dunno. I’ve been on tumblr for the past few months and I read everything, and what I read is just a preference, not racism. But they went to the artist saying “you can’t”. Just because they have a different opinion. A ‘woke opinion’ against a POC Muslim artist. Well.

You don’t like her preference? Again: BRAVO. Amen, that’s okay. But it’s not “end of story kiss kiss”.

If you steal and you put a drawing without source… it’s not a joke anymore, do you know this mods? Even if you don’t like the artist or agree with all of her opinions, THEFT IS THEFT. There’s no excuse for it, especially if their excuse is saying the artist ‘deserves’ it.

Discord community Guidelines:

#1 Do not organize, participate in, or encourage harassment of others.

#17 You may not share content that violates anyone's intellectual property or other rights.

Anyway the artist deserves their art to be stolen ONLY BECAUSE OF HEARSAY everyone knows that she is..? (chorus: racist and homophobic!) And this was decided by white people and is now being used to bully a POC Muslim.

BRAVI! Have a biscuit!

You’re bashing and bashing and bashing and bashing for MONTHS, so now you don’t know the truth, but only this… because /this/ it’s common knowledge.

Stealing art and trying to say that's okay because they’ve decided that someone they don't know is racist doesn't change the fact they stole is disgusting. Then saying it’s just a joke? wow, the audacity.

The point of all this is clear: Since I hate this person/I have this immeasurable hatred towards this artist from posts that other people have made about her THEN I am a mod so I can do it, I am allowed to steal her art, bash the artist and mock her in other comments and every time this person just… exists.

THESE ARE THE FACTS. I have so many screenshots. Thanks to some people I know within the discord. This is only ONE day. It has happened before.

Why “that artist and linking her blog would break multiple server rules and make numerous people uncomfortable?” Ah, yes, c’mon you know… I know you know! (Chorus: Because the artist is racist and homophobic… even though they’ve never spoken to her, and are literally bullying a POC Muslim and refusing to source art)

Well, yeah, Without proof. Just “common knowledge and the same old “by hearsay” on tumblr. By ‘woke’ people and then it was shared by people like me or you if you don’t know the story.

And how did this story end? They stole the drawing. They put the stolen illustration in a group of TWO HUNDRED and SEVENTY PEOPLE and said “oops, i did it again” and they refuse to link the source. It’s stealing. And it’s serious. It’s terrible because they are bashing this artist all the time.

TO REITERATE

1.They STOLE an artist’s work and laughed about it, which is bullying and against their own rules. This has happened more than once with this artist.

2. When they were called out, they bullied the person calling them out.

3. When they didn’t like that they were called out, THE PEOPLE (yellow and green) CALLING THEM OUT WERE KICKED OUT OF THE SERVER, despite art theft and bullying being against the server rules. Again, the rules that they made.

Regardless of what you think of the artist, stealing art sets a dangerous precedent for future fandoms. If someone doesn’t like your opinion does that mean they can steal YOUR art/writing/creations? Because if you think it’s okay for this person’s art to be stolen because you don’t agree with them, that’s basically what you’re saying.

They were cruel. And TOG doesn’t deserve this. I love this movie so much. I love this fandom. I love to make fanarts of Joe and Nicky. Joe is so sweet, full of love, a true warrior and Nicky isn’t an Italian dramaqueen, he isn’t naive, he is kind and a bravo sniper. Two imperfect men, but perfect for each other. A Muslim and a Christian, a white and a brown man. Together. Not stereotyped. Wow, thanks at least for that 2020.

and I hope we can do better, in future.

#the old guard #the old guard fandom #the old guard art #bullying #stealing art in tog fandom #thank you very to all the people who worked HARD for this post #thank you for the informations #please reblog the truth with FACTS and not fake news about an artist only by HEARSAY #you can ask me (but not anon trolls)

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poetrusicperry · 3 years

Text

Running Towards Nothing

Chapter One

a/n: hello !! @noelliza and i fleshed out an idea about if todd came from out of state (specifically, somewhere in the southern united states) to attend welton, so i wrote it heh. i’m not sure how many parts this will be (if people like it enough for me to continue posting lol), but i have the first like... five written haha. so yes, todd is from the south (alabama) and i don’t know much about the south bc i'm from the west coast, but i tried haha. hope you guys like it !! xx

chapter summary: something in todd’s past is the reason for his family’s move, leading to a new neighborhood, a new school, a roommate he was never expecting, and an overall shift in his life.

pairing: todd anderson x neil perry

warnings: none (i don’t think there are any in this chapter, but if anyone spots something, let me know !)

word count: 2479

–

If there was one thing Todd missed about home, it was the sky; the sun set differently over the rolling hills of Vermont than the grassy fields of Alabama. He was used to seeing all of the elongated, blue canvas sky that melted into bright shades of pink and orange along the horizon; there was nothing in the way of the creation, just a plain view of where the heavens met the earth. In the northeast, however, the sunset snagged on the seemingly-black pointed edges of trees and lush branches, interrupting the gradient leaving only soft blue and speckles of marigold.

But he had experienced his last Alabama sunset two days ago, and there was no going back. Not for a really, really long time (if ever). After the events of the past few months, there was no way Todd could ever show his face again, even if he really wanted to. Now, Todd Anderson and his family were living in the suburbs of Vermont, where, as his parents hoped, the past would stay hidden and they could build a new façade for the one Todd had recently, though unintentionally, demolished.

As Todd sat on the floor of his new, empty room, surrounded only by boxes and his bed (which didn’t have a box spring or frame yet), he gazed out of his window forlornly. Through the toothbrush-tipped trees that were jam packed along his new horizon, he could make out the silhouette of a church’s steeple. One that, no doubt, would be frequented by his mother and father while his brother, Jeffrey, was out of state at college, and Todd himself attended the prep school just a few blocks down the road. Out of all the cities in Vermont, Todd’s parents had picked the one with the lowest population and tourist pull, which meant not a lot of people inhabiting the city. However, on the flipside, there wasn’t a wide variety of schools to choose from. Back in Alabama, Todd had attended his local public high school, Nixon, and would have been an incoming senior there if certain... events hadn’t occurred. Instead, Todd was now forced to continue his education at what was deemed “the best all boys prep school in the United States” by his parents and surrounding boarding schools (no pressure).

Todd’s mind wandered through the recent weeks, pulling apart everything that had happened like rotten cotton candy. This was his life now: a new state, a new town, a new school, brand new everything. And yet, Todd felt stuck between wanting to start over and aching to hold onto his old life. If those five seconds could have gone differently, he’d be preparing for his first day of senior year with all his friends at Nixon. But his friends would never speak to him again, and he’d never walk the halls of Nixon High School ever again. Todd wondered what he could possibly be holding onto? There was nothing in a place he considered home and nothing in a new place that would likely never be home. So much of his past, he wanted to leave behind, but he just… knew that he couldn’t.

As he reached into the open box beside him, there was a knock on the door. When Todd didn’t answer, the door cracked open, revealing the familiar face of his older brother.

“Hey, I was going to go on a drive around town, maybe see some of the cool hangout spots if you wanted to come. I know I’m leaving for school in a couple weeks, but might as well check out some places anyway?”

Jeff always had a way of talking to Todd gently, never with any hints of condescension in his tone. After all, Jeff was the only person in the house who ever acknowledged Todd’s existence. And after everything that had happened, Todd was certain he was no closer to gaining support from his parents than a couple months prior; in fact, he’d been quite sure he was further from garnering any cent of respect, let alone support.

“Oh, uh… right now?” Todd spoke, barely above a whisper. He knew he didn’t need to feel embarrassed or nervous around Jeff, but that’s just how things were for him now. Anything he said or did felt… wrong, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

“Yeah, I think Mom and Dad went to pick up some dinner, so I was just thinking that we could head out for a few minutes. Maybe get a little familiar with town and stuff,” Jeff smiled at Todd, his perfectly straight teeth somehow still gleaming in the darkening light of Todd’s room, “Come on, I know you probably don’t feel up to it, but it’d be better than sitting in here while it progressively gets darker,” Jeff attempted to joke, laughing slightly.

Todd gave him a half smile, half grimace, “Alright. Think I need a jacket?”

“Want to drive with the top down, so probably,” Jeff smiled, smacking the doorway and turning down the hallway, “Leaving in five!” he called down the hall as he went.

While they rode leisurely around town, Todd kept his head mostly turned to the side, leaning his cheek on his arm and taking in all the things they drove past. Lots of houses on moderate pieces of land lined the streets; they were nothing like the spacious farms and open pastures of Alabama. Up until recently, Todd had always considered the south home. But truth be told, he wasn’t sure what home was anymore.

“Oh, sweet, Todd, look! There’s an arcade!” Jeff patted Todd’s shoulder with the back of his hand as he cruised down the street. The big neon lights were hanging over a brick building spelling “GAMES & POOL.” It looked like the marquees Todd had seen of New York City in the magazines. He just nodded at his brother’s sentiment as they pulled up to the red light. Glancing up at the bright sign once more, his gaze was torn away when the door to the arcade opened, revealing five lanky boys spilling out onto the sidewalk.

“I told you I was going to beat the high score and you punks didn’t believe me!” one with sandy hair said, walking backwards and facing his friends. His face was twisted into a mischievous grin and his voice ricocheted across the street as the boys seemed to be making their way to the movie theatre a few doors down.

“Charlie, no one cares that you beat the high score,” the tallest one replied; Todd noticed he had a flattop haircut, which is something no one in Alabama would have ever had; Todd thought it looked neat. The flattop’s sentiment earned a chuckle from all the boys, but a particularly loud laugh from a tall, dark-haired boy standing toward the front of the group. He wore beige slacks and a tucked in red flannel with black and white hi-top Chuck Taylor’s. And Todd noticed his dimples were deep into his cheeks while he laughed. As the boys walked down the sidewalk to the theatre ticket vestibule, the light turned green and Jeff began to drive. As the car passed the group, the dark-haired boy looked up and locked eyes with Todd.

“Neil, still five for Gidget?” the ginger one with glasses said. The dark-haired boy (who Todd could now assume was Neil) held Todd’s gaze for a couple more seconds before tearing his eyes away and nodding at his friend. Todd’s cheeks were ablaze as Jeff drove further away. Trying to not move his head, Todd simply looked back at the boys in the side mirror until they were simply blobbed figures standing under the light of the theatre.

When Todd and Jeff arrived home, their parents’ car was in the driveway, and the light in the kitchen was on.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Jeff turned to Todd as he switched the engine off. He just looked at Jeff blankly; his appetite had still not returned, so he didn’t feel hungry much anymore, “I know I am,” Jeff smiled, ruffling Todd’s hair and easing the tension between them. He nodded a little bit and opened the door, Jeff doing the same. As Jeff made his way up the steps, Todd trailed behind him, not wanting to be the first person his parents saw.

“Jeffy, is that you?” his mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, Mom, we just went to check out the neighborhood a bit,” Jeff called, slowing his pace, falling into step with Todd and slinging his arm around his little brother’s shoulder.

“Dinner’s on the table, dear,” she replied as the boys walked into the dining room.

“Smells good, Ma,” Jeff smiled, taking his seat at the table after patting Todd’s shoulder. Todd sat down tentatively and stared at the spread in front of him. His parents had gotten KFC for the second night in a row, and Todd was about as excited as he was the first time (that being not at all).

“I know we had it last night, but it really just reminds me of the food back home,” his mother said, pulling her napkin into her lap.

“You boys eat up, now,” his father said, gesturing to the bucket of chicken and sides in front of the pair. Jeff grabbed his food, and took extra care to offer Todd all of the things he picked up for himself. While their parents busied themselves in a conversation about the pie their neighbors had dropped off, Jeff nudged Todd lightly,

“Look, I know you’re not hungry, but have a biscuit at least, okay?” he muttered and held one out to his younger brother. Todd took it hesitantly, put it in the middle of his plate, and stared at it, “Come on, Todd. Please,” Jeff mumbled again.

“What’s that, Jeffrey?” his father turned to him.

“Oh, nothing, Pop, just telling Todd to have some dinner,” Jeff smiled small. Todd’s father looked at him with disgust.

“Eat,” he grunted. At the timbre of his father’s voice, Todd flinched slightly and picked off a part of the biscuit to nibble on while the conversation turned to Jeff’s plans for the fall semester. Fading into the background (as usual), Todd tuned out the conversation and focused really hard on his white Chuck Taylor’s, getting a flash of the tall, dark-haired boy’s face in his mind. Neil. Shaking his head slightly, Todd adjusted his gaze to the plate in front of him and waited for another painful dinner to end.

When the summer had wound down and the weeks in Vermont had become more familiar, Todd’s parents had busied themselves with getting Jeff ready for dorm move-in and paying little, if any, attention to Todd. Currently, Todd was up in his room, preparing for convocation the next day. Jeffrey had left the past Thursday, driving up on his own. He had told Todd to not take everything so seriously and to do the best he could (because he knew that Todd was capable of a lot of things). He also mentioned that he was just a call away if Todd ever needed anything (he wrote his telephone number onto a scrap of paper). Todd had searched the arcade and the theatre a couple times in the hopes of running into the group of boys he had seen on their second night in town, but to no avail.

Sitting in front of the mirror, Todd analyzed himself. His hair had grown out kind of long, and his mother hadn’t taken him to get it cut, so he’d have to deal with that, but everything else looked normal. Things certainly didn’t feel normal, but he was used to the discomfort by now. The only thing he was truly worried about was his stupid accent. He’d spent the last few weeks hanging around diners and spots with Jeff, and hadn’t heard a single southern accent. He knew his drawl would just make him appear stupid to all these super educated kids, so he’d put a lot of effort into controlling it. He was actually doing okay at it, he just needed to make sure he didn’t slip up. Todd didn’t need any aspect of his personality or appearance to be called attention to. He got up from the floor and crawled into bed, dreading what the next day and year would bring.

Convocation turtled by, two hours of sitting in a church pew and listening to some headmaster spout of statistics that Todd didn’t care about. As far as he was concerned, he wanted to finish his senior year and get the hell out of here; Todd had always wanted to go to California, but his parents told him it was a pipe dream (“After the stunt you pulled in Alabama, we won’t be funding your college anywhere!” his father had yelled).

“Ah, Mr. Anderson, is it?” the headmaster questioned when it was Todd’s turn to be introduced after the ceremony.

“U-uh, yes sir,” he mumbled.

“Well, we don’t normally take public school transfers, but you will fit in well here. Any major problems you let me know,” he shook Todd’s hand rather harshly.

“Thank you, sir,” he nodded and moved along.

Feeling his chest start to tighten, Todd made his way out onto the grass where he sat down against a tree and waited for his parents. After an uncomfortable and awkward goodbye with them, he roamed the grounds a little bit, practicing his newly-fashioned accent quietly to himself. As he rounded a corner to the courtyard, he bumped shoulders with a boy, and turned to apologize, dead-set on making his southern accent unknown (or as unknown as it could be).

“Ope- sorry about that,” the boy laughed nervously. When Todd looked up at him, it was the boy from outside the arcade all those weeks ago. Shit.

“S-sorry,” Todd mumbled. The boy nodded a little bit.

“It’s all good. I’m Neil Perry,” he smiled, holding out his hand, seemingly unaware or forgetting of the fact that they’d seen each other before.

“Todd Anderson,” he manipulated his tongue to sit flatter in his mouth, so as not to let slip his Alabaman background. He had trouble looking into Neil’s eyes, but when he got a good look, he realized they were dark, dark brown and incredibly deep.

“Oh, that’s you? I think that makes us roommates,” Neil said, patting Todd on the shoulder. Oh no, Todd thought, his cheeks flushing. Stop it, he thought to himself and cleared his throat.

“Oh… cool,” Todd nodded a little bit and pursed his lips.

“I gotta get going. See you soon!” he patted Todd’s shoulder again and took off in the direction he had been going when Todd bumped into him.

Yep, Todd sighed. This is going to be a long year.

tagging some people (especially those of you who said i should post this heh): @queertoddanderson @babytoddanderson @cupiiid @justarandompjofan @charliedaltonofficial @pretentious-strikes @aedan-mills

and a big thank you to @noelliza as always bc she’s the best and reads all my stuff before i even think about putting it anywhere on the internet lol <3

#dead poets society #anderperry #neil perry and todd anderson #todd anderson #neil perry #angelina writes

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plazmafields · 4 years

Text

“You asked to see me?”

Cullen lifted his head from his work to lock eyes with the mage in his doorway. He sighed as he gestured for Dorian to sit.

“Yes. I have a…problem, of my own creation, that I could use some advice on.”

Dorian lowered slowly into the seat across the desk from Cullen, curiously raising an eyebrow. “I’ll see how I can help.”

“Thank you,” Cullen smiled softly before clearing his throat to continue, “There’s…a person who I continue to find catching my eye, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I’d really like them to know how I feel, but I don’t think I have the confidence to tell them with words.”

Dorian blinked several times, a bit taken aback that Cullen was so upfront with his ask for romantic help.

“Well,” he began, shifting forward in his seat, crossing one leg over the other, “I am certainly no expert in women—"

“I never said they were a woman.”

Dorian’s mouth still hung open from his comment. He shut it quickly and nodded, silently asking Cullen to continue.

The Commander sighed, running a hand through his groomed curls. “I’ll be honest: I’ve never really…courted anyone before, so we’re essentially starting from scratch here.”

Dorian gave a comforting smile, “That’s perfectly alright. Perhaps a blank slate is best.”

The mage pulled his chair up, resting his elbows on the desk. “Now, you don’t want to come off too strong too soon. So let’s start very basic: what is something almost anyone would like to receive?”

Cullen looked down at his hands, clasped and nervously twiddling. After a moment of thinking he replied tentatively, “Praise?”

Dorian chuckled, “Yes, that’s true, but let’s think most simply. Something superficial, to start. Something physical…?” he guided.

Cullen’s eyes bounced around Dorian’s features for clues. “Gifts?”

Dorian nodded encouragingly, making a rolling motion with his hand to encourage something specific.

“Such as…flowers?” Cullen said it like a question.

“Perfect!” Dorian Tossed his hands up. “Now the next step is easy, what flowers do they like?”

Cullen sighed, rubbing at his scruff, “No idea. And I’m not sure I have the nerve to ask them.”

“Well you wouldn’t want to do that anyway, you want to bring it up casually. Otherwise, they might catch on to what you’re planning.”

Cullen was still looking away, distracted with his own anxiety. Dorian offered a gentle smile and a friendly suggestion. “Why not get a bouquet? A little mix of everything? That way there’s bound to be something they like in there. After all, it’s the thought, not the gift, that matters here.”

Cullen nodded continuously, deep in thought of what to get for his muse. “Yes…a little of everything. That’s…that’s an excellent idea! I’ll go to Orlais, to a florist, pick out the most exotic things they have, the most colorful, most pungent. It’s perfect!”

Dorian couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his lips at Cullen’s excitement.

“Thank you, Dorian. You’ve no idea how much this helps me.”

“Glad to be of service, my friend.” Dorian rose from his seat, gave a friendly bow, and left Cullen to his plans.

__________

As Dorian sat in his little alcove, reading over a new study, the sound of quick and precise footsteps drew closer. Soon, the Inquisitor, ever nimble on her feet, ran into his nook, a massive smile on her face.

“Have you been out today?”

Dorian glanced over the edge of his book. “Not yet, no.”

She bounced on her toes, “So you haven’t seen the garden?”

The mage raised a brow, closing his book with one hand. “Should I?”

The rouge practically squealed as she gestured for Dorian to follow her.

They were in the main hall in no time, Vivienne calling down from her balcony, “It's simply exquisite, darling! Who knew our Commander had such taste?” Varric shrugging as if to say Not me.

Once outside, Dorian had to push through a wall of onlookers, all gawking at the sight before them. The Inquisitor slipped through almost effortlessly, turning to check for Dorian every few seconds.

Finally, they broke through the crowd and Dorian’s jaw nearly dropped. There were flowers everywhere; no patch of dirt in sight. Flowering ivy spiraled up and around the pillars and railings, columns tangled in vines. Each plain tree had been replaced with a flowering fruit tree; one apple, one cherry, one pear, and one orange.

The Inquisitor squeezed his hand to bring him back, saying in a sigh, “Isn’t it beautiful? Like a magic forest!”

Before he could turn to acknowledge her, the red head was already frolicking like a school girl, skipping and bounding through the garden, hoping to find every flower she could. Dorian watched her with a smile, shaking his head at how adorable she could be.

A sudden realization washed over him as he watched the young woman stand on her toes to reach an apple: she must be Cullen’s secret muse. Watching her enjoy every last bit of the garden, even the new insects that had been attracted by the plants, cemented this truth in his mind. Cullen was head over heels for Lyann Trevelyan.

After spending time with his friend amongst the flowers, admiring every scent, Dorian slipped away to consult Cullen on his next move. As he poked his head into the Commander's office, he saw Cullen excitedly pacing, grinning to himself.

“Do you know what a bouquet is, my friend? Perhaps something was lost in translation last we spoke.” Dorian teased, grabbing Cullen’s attention.

Cullen’s head shot up and he smiled widely, rushing over to Dorian to get his reaction. “Well? What do you think?”

Dorian chuckled at Cullen’ childlike glee. “I think you did an excellent job. Maybe a bit over the top, but I can certainly say it made an impression.”

Cullen nearly melted, “Oh, Dorian, I am so glad to hear it. Your advice was invaluable!”

Dorian grinned as he said lowly, “The Inquisitor especially liked it, might I add.”

Cullen’s eyes went wide as he blushed, straightening his back, “O-oh! Well, I suppose I should have run it past her first, but it’s a bit embarrassing to tell her my intentions. Josephine was good about keeping it confidential.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing to the floor.

Dorian gave a hardy chuckle, “Oh I understand. Now, what did you have planned for the next step?”

Cullen froze. “Next…step? How many steps are there?”

Shaking his head, Dorian grabbed the blond by the shoulders and lead him to his desk.

“May I?” Dorian snatched a quill and paper.

“Step one: a sweet but generic gift to show your interest. Something to casually say ‘I might like you'. You already did that one. Following?”

Cullen nodded, leaning his elbows on the desk as he watched Dorian write.

“Alright. Step two: a more personal gift. Something you know they like. This shows them not only are you interested in them, but you’re interested in their interests as well.”

“Right…” Cullen chewed his lip.

“What is it?” Dorian sighed.

“I don’t know much about their likes. They aren’t very…direct. Ever.”

Well that doesn’t sound like Lyann… Dorian thought to himself.

Dorian had to restrain from rolling his eyes. “Well, in that case, an easy thing to get for someone indecisive is sweets. Candy, chocolate, biscuits, pastries. Things like that. Just get them sweets that remind you of them.”

Cullen looked utterly concerned. “Am I supposed to…guess what they…taste like?”

Dorian stared at him with a blank look, completely astounded. “No. What does that even—no, never mind, please don’t attempt to explain.”

After drumming his fingers on the desk for a moment, Dorian tried to be more clear—though he thought he had been plenty clear before. “Think of how they act, yes? Are they kind and sweet? Flowery and fun? Warm like spice?”

Cullen nodded along, seemly understanding this time.

Dorian smiled, placing a tender hand on the blonds arm. “I’ll leave you to it then."

__________

Several days later and not a word from Cullen, Dorian felt a bit anxious. Had he not been clear enough still? Did Cullen get too nervous to continue? Oh no, did he have a falling out with Lyann; she didn’t return his feelings?

Just as he began to lose himself in his nerves, despite having research to focus on, Dorian caught a subtle whiff of something delicious. It was warm and baked, but chocolatey and rich, and somehow tart all at once. Cullen must have asked the cooks to do their damnedest.

After a while the scent became too much, it was too intriguing, Dorian had to go to the kitchens and see for himself what was being baked. As he descended the stairs to Solas's area, the elf came from the main hall with a plate of goodies. Tarts and cookies and all sorts, laid out decoratively on a porcelain dish.

“My my,” Dorian quirked a brow, “Someone has a sweet tooth it seems.”

Solas didn’t look at him as he replied, “There is a spred out there. I would be a fool to turn down free food. Especially Orlaisian pastries.” He popped a fruit tart into his mouth.

Dorian exited to the main hall and was greeted by long dining tables over flowing with every dessert imaginable. Full cakes, cup cakes, full pies, hand pies, everything he loved and things he hadn’t tried before, but was more than eager to.

Everyone in Skyhold, and a few visiting nobles, huddled around the tables making sure to heap their plates, and at the front of the room, with a towering plate nearly spilling down her shirt, was the ever graceful Inquisitor, shoving candied dates into her gob.

“Well aren’t you looking marvelous today,” Dorian laughed as he approached.

“Hm? Oh, Dorun!” Lyann mumbled through half chewed food.

She took a second to chew and swallow before nearly shouting, “Isn’t this amazing?! Cullen and Josephine planned this in only a few days! I don’t know how they got it all here and kept it so fresh! It taste like it just came from the ovens, or maybe the Maker's own kitchen.” She swooned as she crammed another treat into her mouth.

Dorian chuckled, picking up a plate to load up himself. “Cullen planned this, did he? Any idea why?” He feigned curiosity.

“No idea,” Lyann shrugged, nearly dropping a pudding, “He usually doesn’t care about impressing nobles, so I don’t know who he’s trying to impress. Maybe he just felt like the troops deserved it!”

“Oh, I’d bet he’s trying to catch someone’s attention...” Dorian hinted, but the Inquisitor was already going in for seconds. Well, more like fourths.

Dorian shook his head with a smile as she walked off to her chambers with a mountain of sweets. Just as he began picking out his favorite treats, a soft voice spoke up behind him.

“Have you tried the jam biscuits yet? They’re heavenly. I might actually die if someone doesn’t stop me.”

Dorian turned around just in time to see Cullen with a jam cookie half way to his lips. Just as it was about to touch his tongue, Dorian snatched it away, downing it in one bite.

Cullen looked at him in shock, mouth still open to receive the sweet. They laughed together as Dorian tried to chew the mouthful.

“So? What do you think? Did I hit all the right flavors?”

Dorian chuckled, “If everything under the sun reminds you of them, then yes.”

Cullen sighed dreamily, “Everything…”

Dorian had only seen that look a handful of times, but by the Maker, it was his favorite expression on the blond. That look of complete adoration, losing himself to a daydream. It looked beautiful. He looked beautiful…

Dorian shook his head, reminding himself he was helping the man court someone else. The Inquisitor, of all people. But they seemed like a good match, both very…Ferelden.

When he looked back, Cullen was staring at him with bright eyes, an innocent smirk lopsided on his lips. Dorian smiled back.

“Is everything alright?” Cullen asked so gently.

Dorian swallowed hard before clearing his throat, “Yes, of course. Just thinking about your next step.”

“What’s that?”

Dorian led Cullen to a less crowded area of the hall. “Well, everything you’ve done so far has been very…grand. You may want to think about doing something one-on-one with them, personally.”

Cullen sighed, rubbing his neck. “Right, one-on-one…If you couldn’t tell, I’ve been trying to take an indirect approach.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, “But how are they ever supposed to know it’s you?”

“Well, I thought it would be rather obvious.” Cullen gave him a very confused stare.

“Listen,” Dorian sighed and shifted his weight, “they know it’s you, but you have to show that it’s for them.”

Cullen’s eyes lit up, “Oh! Oh, of course, I should have—I’m sorry Dorian I didn’t understand—”

“That’s alright, I just hope you’ve planned for something one-on-one, because I can’t help you with this next bit.”

“What?” Cullen’s eyes seems almost terrified, losing his only advisor.

Dorian wraps his fingers around the back of Cullen’s neck, pulling him closer so he could hear the whisper, “You must make this personal. I’m always willing to help, but I can’t tell you everything they like and how to fit it all together. That’s up to you, my friend.”

Cullen sighed and let his head fall forward, forehead almost leaning against Dorian’s. “Alright. I’ll try to do you proud.”

The mage smiled reassuringly, “You will, Cullen. Don’t worry.”

__________

After nearly a week without any word, Dorian received a surprise visit just as noon struck.

“Glad to see you haven’t given up. I was starting to wonder if you had gotten cold feet.” Dorian teased, slapping Cullen’s arm playfully.

Cullen grinned wide and chuckled, “Well, I’m not actually here for advice this time. I was wondering if you might come with me. I think I’ve found the perfect place for a date!”

“Oh?” Dorian was shocked by the confidence in the Commander’s voice. “What are we waiting for then? Need I pack a bag?”

“No, it’s not too far.” Cullen eyed him up and down, considering his outfit. “Though I might wear something more casual, were I you.”

Dorian looked down at his attire, about to ask why, when Cullen called back to him, already on his way, “I’ll meet you at the gates in an hour. Don’t be late.”

So he dressed down and packed a bottle of wine to sip at on the ride there. Where ever “there” was; Cullen was being awfully secretive about their destination, only repeating that it was the perfect spot for a date.

Just as the two had run out of things to banter about on the ride, Cullen stopped his horse by a gap in some trees.

“Through here. We’ll have to tie up the horses, I don’t think they’ll make it through the foliage.”

Dorian sighed an exasperate sigh, “Are we in for much of a hike? You know I get more exercise than I truly want while adventuring with the Inquisitor.”

Cullen chuckled and held some leaves out of the way for Dorian to duck under. After a short walk, Cullen looked back and smiled, “I think it’s beautiful out here. Tell me what you think.”

Dorian stepped forward through the last bit of trees to be greeted by the most sparkling, clearest, gentlest lake he’d ever laid eyes on. The water rippled steadily with the slight breeze, waves barely formed yet still enough to rock the lily pads and fallen leaves. The sun was just visible through the trees, but not enough to blind them, slowly lowering in the sky, ready shine orange and pink light across the water when dusk came.

“I…” Dorian couldn’t find his words, “Cullen, this is gorgeous…”

He looked back to Cullen who leaned confidently against a tree, pleased with the mage's reaction.

But as he turned back, Dorian remembered who all this was for, and it put a heaviness in his heart. His eyes dropped as he said “She’ll love this, Cullen. I know she will.”

Long moments went by with no response before Dorian felt a gentle hand on the small of his back.

“Who?” Cullen asked softly, seeing Dorian was upset.

“Lyann, silly. She’ll find this all so lovely, I’m sure.” He had a hard time keeping eye contact with the Commander, curious eyes meaning no ill intent.

“Lyann?” Cullen pulled back slightly. “Why would I bring her—”

Cullen’s eyes went wide as he muttered, “oh no…”

He stepped away to pace, continuing his “no”s under gus breath, thinking of something to say or do to make it right.

“Cullen? I don’t understand, what’s wrong?” Dorian followed his pacing, trying to grab his arm.

“I’ve screwed this up royally, that what’s wrong! Lyann?! You thought this was all for the Inquisitor?”

Dorian stopped in his tracks. “Yes? I saw how much she enjoyed everything you did, so I assumed…”

It struck him like a charging druffalo. “No.” He whispered. “For…for me?”

Cullen looked over his shoulder sheepishly, waiting for a better idea of Dorian’s reaction.

“All of it?” Dorian’s words were hardly voiced, sliding out along a whisper of disbelief.

Cullen turned around fully and began taking cautious steps toward Dorian, trying to gage if his surprise was good or bad.

As Dorian continued to stare forward, slack jawed, Cullen placed a warm hand on his neck, the other finding the mage’s chin and tilting his gaze up to lock eyes.

“Everything. Every flower, every tart, everything. I wanted to give you the world, but I didn’t know how to start. I wanted you to see I would do anything for you, Dorian. You want flower, I’ll plant you a garden. You want sweets, I’ll bring the world’s best bakers to you.”

Dorian’s eyes only showed more confusion. Cullen leaned forward, stopping just before their lips touched to whisper, “I love you.”

“You—” But the words were stolen from his lips as Cullen pulled him in, chest to chest, arms around his waist, surprisingly deft lips making him melt into the blond.

He lost track of time. It could have been seconds, minutes, maybe an hour, before they pulled away, each out of breath and shaking from a single shared shiver down their spines.

“That was…electrifying.” Cullen sighed, hugging the mage close.

Dorian could hardly think straight, just hugging Cullen back as he gathered his thoughts.

After a moment of silence, Dorian finally relaxed against Cullen and said, “I…didn’t think I could be so dense.”

They laughed together, Cullen pulling back to plant a gentle kiss to the mage’s nose.

“But in my defense,” Dorian began, returning to his regular self, “who asks the person they plan on courting for advice on how to court them?”

“Well, you liked everything, didn’t you?” Cullen teased back.

Dorian shook his head, still feeling like this couldn’t be real. But those eyes, those golden eyes…

“I…feel strongly about you, Cullen. I’d dare say I’m smitten.”

Cullen smiled even wider before placing a quick kiss to Dorian lips, stripping off his shoes and tunic with impressive speed, and jumping like a cannonball into the lake. Dorian put his hands up to shield his face from the splash, but his casual clothes soaked up the water on contact.

“Looks like you’ll have to let those clothes dry. What should we do in the meantime?” Cullen called over smugly.

“You little southern…” Dorian shook his head before stripping down and diving in himself, making sure to get Cullen in the face.

They laughed together as they splashed the other back and forth, stopping only to share a passionate kiss.

#da #dai #cullen rutherford #dorian pavus #cullrian #dragon age inquisition #dragon age

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chibinekochan · 3 years

Text

How to become a Demon Ruler 112

Part: 01 I 02 I 03 I 04 I 05 I 06 I 07 I 09 I 10 I 11

GN. Reader insert

taglist: @ayesha95 ; @nomnomcupcakesworld ; @fex-phoenix ; @depressed-bixch ; @kitsune-oji ; @witch-o-memes

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another morning comes. Unlike the previous days, I'm woken up by Barbatos.

"Time to rise and shine young master. Due to yesterday's events, we have to squeeze in another lesson, so I have to wake you up earlier." He sounds cheerful, but his tone gives me shivers.

I did not think he was mad at me yesterday but this is my punishment for sure.

With a groan, I sluggishly get out of bed. "Good morning Barbatos." I yawn. I'm too tired to fight back. "Is there time for my morning shower?"

"Certainly, and there is time for breakfast as well." Barbatos smiles calmly.

With an uncertain feeling, I get ready. I really have to get back on his good side.

Much to my surprise, Barbatos has prepared breakfast in my room today. "Please sit down and eat with your best manners today's meals will be part of your lessons." He certainly thought this through.

I do as he says and use my full arsenal of polished manners. Barbatos corrects me from time to time, but not any different than in our usual lessons.

I hope he can see that I'm working extra hard today.

"Very well, now we will perform a short test of your knowledge." Barbatos presents me with a small stack of papers.

I wish I had prepared for this. The test covers everything I have learned in these past days. Luckily enough it's multiple choice.

Barbatos quickly glances over my finished papers. "You passed, though your score is far from perfect."

I feel very depressed about this, mainly because he usually compliments me. Even when I'm far from perfect.

I look at Barbatos. "I know I made you upset, but please forgive me."

He looks at me seemingly confused. "I'm not upset. I simply want to know where you stand in terms of regular demons." Then he stops himself for a moment, placing a hand on his chin. He thinks for a moment. "I'll take that back. I'm upset about yesterday, but not for the reason that you assume."

"And what reason is that?" I look at him, confused.

"Well, I wanted to choose the outfit with you but now lord Diavolo has taken that experience from me." His face makes no motion.

I blink a few times at him. "We can just choose an outfit together next time." There isn't any issue in my opinion.

"I am well aware of that, but it won't be the outfit for your first party in the devil dom." He sighs, this must be a bigger deal than I thought.

"In that case, we can buy the outfit for my next milestone together." This sounds like a good idea.

"I will look forward to that, and you did a good job on the test." With this, Barbatos seems to be back to normal. This makes me feel instantly better.

Barbatos continues to give me another lesson on the devildom, focusing on its countless dangers. He isn't over yesterday after all.

After this, it's finally time for something much more enjoyable.

Our baking "lesson".

Barbatos leads me to the kitchen. It's very impressive and yet again I don't see a single person around.

I pull out a recipe book. "We should start with something simple since I'm not used to the kitchen here."

"Just tell me what you need." Barbatos seems very excited.

I list the ingredients for simple chocolate cookies.

Barbatos has everything ready at lightning speed.

Then we measure everything. Barbatos is very good at this step. Much as I expected from him to be honest.

Barbatos then turns the mixer on and explains the oven to me. Other than its demonic nature, it's a pretty straightforward oven.

While we wait for the cookies, I show Barbatos the rest of the book. "All of these are very interesting. I think cookies would be the easiest gift. We can easily math out a huge batch that will satisfy Beelzebub." He is very fascinated by every single item in the book.

"Sounds good to me. Maybe we can bake two different recipes to give him a bit of variety, but I wonder if there is something that caught your eye?" It seems to be fairly easy to find some for Beel but I'm curious about what Barbatos wants.

"The cakes interest me the most. There are many options that I would love to serve with tea." He already has some ideas, it seems.

"That sounds great, but I meant for yourself." I gently correct him.

"Serving you and the young lord cake with tea is one of my greatest joys." Barbatos has no concept of accepting treats.

"Then how about a cake for all of us together?" This is a great compromise in my opinion.

"That sounds lovely. How about this cake in that case?" Barbatos points to one of the cakes in the book.

"Sounds great to me." I already look forward to it.

We end up making 3 different types of cookies, after running out of hazelnuts. We make chocolate chip cookies, hazelnut cookies, and basic cookies with different decorations.

I feel pretty proud of the end product. I could probably open a store with all of them. "I think with this amount I can give each of the brothers, you and Diavolo a few to try them."

I look at the huge amount with a sense of pride.

"I'd be honored to get some of these as a present. Barbatos smiles.

"How about eating a few now?" I eye the delicious-looking cookies.

"Certainly, we want to make sure they are good after all," Barbatos smirks at me.

I like this side of Barbatos. I take a cookie and hand it to Barbatos and then grab one for myself. I take a bite. The sweet flavor spreads in my mouth.

"How is it?" With big curious eyes, I look at him.

"It's absolutely delightful." A big smile spreads across his face.

I'm very happy about this.

"But now I regret that I never asked you what your favorite cookies are." He sighs with regret.

"Oh, that would be the chocolate chip cookies. They are simple but there's nothing above them for me." It's the very cookie we have just eaten.

"No wonder it tastes so great. I will make sure to always remember that." Barbatos smiles at me gently.

This causes my cheeks to grow hot. "I'm just glad you enjoy them."

"Should we start with the cake now?" Barbatos must really look forward to the cake.

I smile at his enthusiasm. It's very nice to see a completely new side of Barbatos. Baking with him feels very casual.

"Yes, first we need to prepare the biscuit dough and bake it." We both start to get to work. "It's funny since we have never done this before, but we are a great team."

Barbatos nods. "You are right. We should do this again soon." He seems to enjoy this just as much as I do.

"You are right, next time we need to bake some demon delights." I already look forward to that.

"I have this great recipe that you will love. We should make that." He smiles at me naturally. He seems so different from his usual professional self. I would love to see much more of this side of him.

"That sounds great. Maybe we can cook together too." I always enjoy his food but cooking together sounds fun.

"That would be very lovely." He gently looks at me with a light smile on his face. Then suddenly he seems to remember his standing. "I mean that would be very inappropriate."

I feel a strong tug on my heart. "I need to learn about demon cuisine too." I try to convince him.

He smiles and shakes his head. "Very nice try, but I can not let that slide."

I sigh disappointedly. "But what if I don't know the dish and its ingredients and someone wants to poison me?" I try something else.

Barbatos raises his eyebrows. "You should never eat anything that I haven't given you."

"I just really enjoy doing things like this with you." In desperation, I try the honest approach.

Barbatos blinks a few times. I guess I surprised him again. "I can't win here can I?" Then he chuckles softly. "Alright, but only something easy and fun to cook." He shakes his head with a smile.

I grin at my victory. "Sounds fair to me."

He once again shakes his head and then turns to whip some cream.

Once the cake is made, we decorate it. It looks very good. I sent a picture to Mammon, to make him jealous. It works.

With great pride, Barbatos and I look at our creation."It's so pretty, it's almost a shame to eat it."

"Indeed, but it's cake time so we will." Barbatos looks with great joy at the cake.

I can only nod to that.

I put a few cookies on a plate for Diavolo.

Barbatos prepares everything else. I have seen him preparing the table many times already, but it's still very impressive.

We both wait for Diavolo to arrive.

"It's so great to see. The worst part of my punishment was not being able to see you." Diavolo looks unusually gloomy.

"That wasn't part of your punishment, the young master simply needed to work harder today." Barbatos calmly fills his cup with tea.

"We were very busy. We made today's cake together and the cookies on your plate too." I try to cheer him up.

"Oh, they look great. I'm so glad I finally get to try my siblings’ baking talents." Diavolos mood shifts in an instance. He gives me a big smile when he takes a cookie and bites into it with great delight.

"I baked them with Barbatos, but I hope you will enjoy them." I can't take all the credit by myself.

"I didn't do much." Barbatos doesn't seem to want the credit at all. In all honesty, he did most of the work.

"They are great, the best I ever had." Diavolo doesn't seem to care either way.

"I think that is giving them too much credit." My cheeks are once again hot.

"Don't sell yourself short." Barbatos smiles at me while filling my cup up.

"With all this praise I might become the first demon ruler with their own bakery." I giggle lightly.

"Haha, I'd love to see that." Diavolo gives me a huge laugh. "Oh with all of this fun I almost forgot. We had to move the party to tomorrow. I know it's a big hassle. It just couldn't be helped." Diavolo drops this big news like it's nothing at all.

I almost drop my cup. "TOMORROW?! I'm not ready whatsoever!"

Barbatos raises an eyebrow. "Has that anything to do with the demon brothers?"

"It's mainly because of Lucifer and then the new school year will start sooner than we planned to." Diavolo keeps on calmly drinking his tea.

"This is very troublesome. I will have to go right away to make sure that everything will go smoothly." Barbatos sighs.

"I can't believe it. How will I ever survive at this rate?" I feel so lost right now.

"You will be fine. After all, I will be there to support you." Diavolo is not worried whatsoever.

"I will support you as well and have no doubt that you will shine tomorrow. Due to this sudden change, I have to entrust today's dance lesson to Diavolo, as much as I regret it." Barbatos mumbles the last part.

"Does that mean my duties will be shorter today?" Diavolo shines as he asks this question.

"No." Barbatos coldly refuses his request without another word.

Diavolo shrugs. "Then I will just do my best to be fast today."

"You should strive for that every day." Barbatos looks at Diavolo with narrowed eyes. "Anyway, you don't need to worry at all about tomorrow." Barbatos once again encourages me with a gentle smile.

I can only hope that he is right.

"He is right. There is no way the demon brothers won't love you." To answer my thoughts, Diavolo speaks up.

"Exactly, even I personally would be happy enough with them being cordial towards you." Barbatos shakes his head.

I start to chuckle. "That sounds like you are jealous."

Barbatos seems surprised and coughs a little bit.

Wait does that mean he is jealous? Well, he might just be overprotective.

Then Barbatos seems to remember that he has to be somewhere. "I should get going."

"Yes, please don't worry about us." Diavolo gives Barbatos a kind smile. Barbatos looks critical at Diavolo.

"I will keep him in line." I can imagine what goes through his head.

Barbatos lights up instantly. "I will leave him in your capable hands."

Diavolo shakes his head. "I can take care of myself you know."

Barbatos doesn't acknowledge Diavolo and leaves. He couldn't even finish his cake.

"Of course you can, I think he just likes teasing you." At least something like that.

"Maybe but he might be right too." Diavolo sighs. "I can see why my father adopted you. He probably wanted to motivate me."

"I'm not sure how a simple human could motivate you, but I'm glad if I have that effect on you. Honestly after seeing what it's really like I don't think I even want to become the demon ruler." I never wanted this in the first place.

"Not any human of course, but you certainly do. Ever since you came here I feel more motivated to push my big plan forward. The union between all of the realms. Ever since meeting you, my plan seems more attainable than ever." He looks at me with full sincerity.

He is usually so goofy that it's a completely different feeling from usual.

"It's a great vision, and I think if anyone can do it's you, and if I can support you in any kind of way I will," I say this with my full heart behind it.

"Thank you, you don't know how much these words mean to me…" Diavolo stops himself. "Never mind, we should clean this up and finish today's work."

I'm sure he wanted to say or ask something important just now but stopped himself. I wonder what he was about to tell me, but I can't bring myself to ask.

I only nod and quickly put everything back onto the cart and into the kitchen. Putting everything away, only leaving a cup and the rest of the cake for Barbatos.

Then I read a bit while Diavolo finishes his work.

Diavolo seems very exhausted once he is done. Lucky for him, I saw this coming and prepared him some coffee. "You worked very hard today, drink this to recharge."

"How thoughtful of you, at this rate you might steal Barbatos' job." He seems very happy about my compliment and the coffee.

I giggle. "Nobody can do that."

"You are right." He smiles gently. "I'd also feel strange if you start calling me my lord." He seems to find this thought very amusing.

"You are right, that would be strange." With that, we go to the dance hall.

Diavolo fumbles with the record player and then a slow waltz starts playing.

"Do you still remember the steps?" Diavolo seems slightly concerned.

"Yeah, but I might still step on your feet." I'm unsure of my skills, to say the least.

"Just take it slow and just focus on me." Diavolo gets into the right pose.

I'm used to it, but Diavolo is taller than Barbatos and differently built so it's a completely new experience to dance with him.

Diavolo starts to move slowly, and I can easily follow his lead. It feels very natural.

It doesn't feel like practice somehow but like we even when I still make sure not to step on him.

He smiles at me. "We should dance more freely if we can in the future."

"You mean like at a normal party or a club?" I'm not sure what he means.

"The kind of party we have tomorrow is normal for me but I suppose. I'd like to experience a regular party in your world too." Diavolo looks deep into my eyes.

"That sounds like fun. Have you ever been to a devildom disco?" Our conversation just naturally flows away from tomorrow.

"I have, but I could never mingle. There are always exceptions and usually, people are scared of me." Diavolo looks just a bit sad.

"We should throw a casual party then. With only our friends. I mean I don't have many in the devildom yet but I'm sure it will be fun." I smile at the idea.

"That sounds wonderful." Diavolo has a strange smile on his face.

His schedule might not allow something like that.

"We can always just have fun together too. Just dancing like this is also very nice." I try to cheer him up.

"Actually, I want to ask you before tomorrow… Do you like the devildom?" It sounds like this question was weighing heavy in his heart. At least his eyes tell me so.

"Of course. I have only seen very little of it, but I love what I have seen so far." To me, it's not even a question, to be honest.

Diavolo seems honestly deeply relieved. "I'm glad." He seems to be holding me a bit closer now. There seems more to his words. Something he isn't saying right now.

I suppose he will tell me soon enough. I fully trust Diavolo. Strangely, I feel like this already. It's not even a week since I know him and yet here I am barely able to imagine my time before I came here.

"What is on your mind?" Diavolo notices my absentminded thoughts.

"Sorry, I was just thinking how funny it is that I feel so at ease here even after such a short amount of time." I feel embarrassed about spacing out.

"I see, that is a great thing. You adapted so quickly, it's amazing. You truly are amazing all around." Diavolo has such a kind expression on his face.

"I'm just normal. I think it's all thanks to you and Barbatos." I can't think of anything special that I have done.

"Well, I gladly take the credit if you want to. I think we should stop for today. Tomorrow will be a long day for you." He seems sad to stop.

I feel the same way. As soon as he lets me go, I feel like a great deal of warmth leaves with him.

"You are right. I will just fix something to eat for myself. Do you want something too?" I don't feel like heading to bed without dinner.

"That's such a sweet offer but dinner is already prepared in our rooms tonight. Such a shame really." Diavolo seems to have some regrets about this.

"Oh I see, have a pleasant night Diavolo." I don't manage to fully hide my disappointment.

"Yes, have sweet dreams." There seems to be a flicker of sadness in his eyes too.

We both don't say anything else and go our separate ways.

Dinner feels so lonely tonight that I can't fully enjoy it.

I feel utterly unmotivated tonight and just fall on my bed after changing into my Pajamas.

#demon ruler 101 #obey me fanfiction #How to become a Demon Ruler #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #omswd #obey me #om!#obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me one master to rule them all

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drwcn · 4 years

Note

Hey hey you ever think about how painful it must have been for Jiang Cheng, who became sect leader as a teen after the people that raised him died, to watch Jin Ling become sect leader as a teen after one of the people that raised him died?? Cause I do

Hello! i’m finally getting around to answering this! :) Thank you for the ask. I wrote a little something for this, but from Jin Ling’s perspective.

“宗主，子时都过了，该就寝了。”

Jin Ling looked up from the pile of missives scattered on his working desk.

“Huh?” His eyes burned. His neck ached, and there was tightness between his scapula that made him feel suffocated.

“It’s almost midnight. Time to rest,” repeated the maid as she held out the cup to him with a bow.

Water. He’d called for tea. Jin Ling frowned, irked. “What happened to my tea?”

“But...it’s late.”

“I know it’s late, that’s why I called for tea.”

“Jiang-zongzhu said -”

Jin Ling set his brush down with a loud clatter, irritation turning to anger. “Jiang-zongzhu isn’t here! This is Jinlintai, not Lotus Pier. Am I the Sect Master of Lanling or is my jiujiu the sect master?!”

Fairy, who had dozed off with her great big head resting on his thigh, jerked awake at his yell. He automatically laid a hand down between her ears to sooth her, and she whined a little, lying back down.

The maid shrunk, shoulders shrugging up to her ears as if her head could retract back into her chest like a turtle. “Apologies, Sect Master. I will see to your tea right away!”

Jin Ling picked up his brush, grumbling, “And some pastries...I’m hungry.”

He dismissed her with a wave and returned his attention to the scrolls and parchment on his table.

During his life, Jin Guangyao had run a tight ship. His accounts were pristine and his books were in order. Logistically, Jinlintai was a well-oiled machine, but politically, this place was a fucking cesspool. A mess.

His mess.

All of Jinlintai belonged to Jin Rulan now.

For a time, it seemed like a coup was imminent, but with Lan Wangji as Chief Cultivator, his jiujiu backing him with the full firepower of Yunmeng, and Wei Wuxian, the Grand-master of demonic cultivation, making it known his unwavering loyalty to the son of his dearly departed shijie, no one dared to rise against Jin Ling.

After some months, the tension ebbed and the ripple in the pond that Jin Guangyao’s untimely death had caused eventually petered out.

Oh but the pond was deep and the water was murky.

Jin Ling groaned, lacing his fingers behind his neck and stretched. Perhaps the maid was right, perhaps it was time to sleep.

Standing, he made his way to the window, and gazed up at the cloudy sky.

Fairy pattered up to him, sat down on her hind legs, and nudged his hand for pets. She was so needy sometimes; Jin Ling huffed, giving her exactly what she wanted. Fairy closed her eyes, tongue lolling out happily.

She reminded him of himself. Temperamental, snippy, and a bit of a princess.

On a night like this, he couldn’t help but think of his parents. Jin Ling touched the jade hanging on his belt, the only thing he had left of his mother, and hoped that she would be proud of him and the man he was slowly becoming each day...

He knew so little about his mother. Jiang Cheng would talk about her sometimes, but his jiujiu wasn’t much of a reminisce and lament kind of man. Jiang Yanli’s death was a wound, deeper perhaps than any wound Jiang Cheng had ever sustained. He used to tell Jin Ling when he was young that his mother had been the best woman who’d ever walked the earth, and Jin Ling had believed him.

The servants at Jinlintai often said that Jiang Yanli had been a lovely person: kind, good, and sweet of temper. But she would have been strong too, Jin Ling thought, she must have been. His late mother had charged into a battle - into chaos - for a brother who the world had despised, whose creation had killed her husband, because even after everything, she had believed in A-Xian’s heart, in his soul...and had protected him with her life.

And she had been right.

It took sixteen years in the making, but Jiang Yanli had finally been proven right.

If only...if only Jin Ling could remember what she looked like. He turned back to the table of work he’d abandoned and exhaled dejectedly. He wished that instead of the maid, it was his a-niang who brought him tea and midnight snacks and chided at him to go to bed.

But his a-niang was long gone. The only one left was his jiujiu.

Speaking of his jiujiu, a letter from Lotus Pier informed him that Jiang Cheng was coming by tomorrow to visit him. Jin Ling was extremely relieved. He had so many questions, so many complaints he couldn’t wait to vent at Jiang Cheng.

Like how he would like to go on night hunts with his friends and just be seventeen for a night for crying out loud. Like how it was almost his birthday and he’d like a day off, is that so much to ask?

Jin Ling sighed.

His thoughts drifted and he wondered where his friends were tonight. Sizhui would still be travelling with Wen Ning, no doubt. Ouyang Zizhen and Lan Jingyi were probably wrapping up their hunt. Jin Ling had to decline their invite. There was too much to do, and he was already overwhelmed.

But he had so wanted to go...it seemed like such fun...

He could already hear Jiang Cheng now, going on and on about how he can’t just drop everything and wander off like he used to anymore, how he was sect master now and needed to be more poised, less flustered, and blah blah blah blah blah.

God, was this how it was like for jiujiu when he first became sect master? Which blasted elder nagged jiujiu into the grumpy-face he is now?

...

Jin Ling realized with a start that there had been no one to nag his jiujiu when he had become sect leader. All those years ago, his jiujiu had been thrust upon this position by the worst tragedy to have ever befallen his home. One after another, he had lost his mother, his father, his brother, his sister, and was left with no one but a baby nephew to take care of.

How old was he then? Not that much older than Jin Ling himself, surely. Who did jiujiu turn to when he was frustrated and lost, when he was scared and lonely, when he felt small and the world too big, when the solutions to his problems seemed worse than the problems themselves?

Jin Ling used to think that his xiao-shushu was the more doting of his uncles, and maybe Jin Guangyao did care for him in his twisted ways, but Jiang Cheng...Jiang Cheng had given him everything.

Jin Ling had no father, no mother, and Jiang Cheng had tried to be both. Jin Rulan belonged to the Jins, belonged to Lanling. Jiang Cheng didn’t have to do any of that, but he did without complaint and without expectation of any returns. For the first time, Jin Ling was starting to understand just how much Jiang Cheng loved him.

At this thought, the back of his throat grew tight and his nose stung.

“Fairy,” Jin Ling scratched his best girl behind one ear. “It’s late. What say you we turn in for the night?”

Fairy nudged him with her muzzle. She agreed. Smart dog.

Sect Leader Jin sent a quick word to the servants to call off the tea and biscuits and asked for a bath instead.

He was exhausted.

#cql ficlet #jin ling #jiang cheng #lockedinabookstore #corie replies #the untamed #cql #corie fics #character fic

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legolaslovely · 5 years

Text

Dirty Dishes Part 1

Happy Fili Friday! I kid you not I almost titled this “Belly” but I decided to be normal and not. Also, I am not a baker, but I did research for this one and the recipes that I was mainly looking at for the treats mentioned in this story are linked below! I lost the link to the cake with the 26 eggs, sorry! But it was a real thing! I hope you guys enjoy!

Baked Apple Pudding

Lemon Syllabub

Shrewsbury Cake

Pairing: Fíli x Reader

Word Count: 1,714

Warnings: literally none

Summary: Fíli loves visiting the mountain’s kitchens... not necessarily for the food :)

Dirty Dishes Part 2

The kitchens that lie deep in the mountain of Erebor were always busy. Cooks and servants were always bustling about, often preparing for the next meal or cleaning up from the previous one. The busiest dwarrows, however, were the bakers. They worked tirelessly, making the pies and puddings and sweets and treats that would flow through the mountain after every meal as if there were an endless supply. They and their creations were cherished by all, though the kitchens saw few visitors delivering thanks.

Most bakers did their work in the morning, leaving the afternoon free for market runs and routine housework. (Y/N), however, was a baker who spent most of her days crouched next to the wood burning ovens, happily humming while watching her bread rise or her cakes spread.

This afternoon, her cheerful song could be heard as she stacked her baking tools- biscuit tins, patty pans, cake hoops and more- on a large cutting board to carry them from the washing area to her preparation counter space. The recently washed dishes were slippery and dripping and as more and more tools were piled on top of one another, the board grew heavy. (Y/N) carried on with her song, sucking in a breath and lifting the mass, spinning to bring them across the kitchen.

“Let me help you with that!”

The voice startled her, making a little squeal bubble out of her mouth and the board wobble in her arms. Before everything could topple to the floor, it was all taken from her and set down exactly where she wanted it.

“Fíli! You startled me!”

He turned, leaning on the tall counter. “Sorry. In my defense, I thought you would have been expecting me,” he said, smirking.

“I must have lost track of time. The- the cakes took longer than expected. Oh, look at you. You’re wet, come here.” She pulled at her apron, running it over his arms that were damp from the dripping dishes. Her touch was quick and impersonal, but she froze when his fingers ran through her hair around her ear.

“You have flour in your hair.”

“Thank you.” His lips spread into a smile and for a moment, she watched their curve. Then she drew away before he could touch her again. “You find flour in the oddest places after a day of baking.”

“I’m sure.” He took the towel off her shoulder and began to disassemble the wet dishes and dry them. When she looked up, he was watching her. “You’ll need more wood for your oven soon,” he said.

She shook her head. “There’s plenty still. What you brought last week is all stacked in the pantry.” She took another towel from the counter and snapped it at him with a smile. “Besides, it’s not your job to bring the wood in.”

His ears went red and he chuckled. “We both know Buck won’t do it and I don’t want you doing it.”

“I can do it!”

“I know you can. But I don’t want you to.” He huffed. “Don’t give me that face, I’m not babying you, I’m trying to take care of you.” He snapped his towel at her while she was stunned still by his choice of words.

She returned to the dishes. “I don’t mind doing it. It gets me outside in the fresh air.”

“Then next time you need wood for the ovens, we’ll get it together.” With the last baking tool dried, he folded the towel and set it neatly on the edge of the counter. He raised his brows, waiting for her protest, and she laughed.

“Deal. Will you pass me that cake hoop please?”

He turned over his shoulder and pointed to a round silver tool that looked like it could be what she was talking about. “This?”

“The one next to it. Fíli, you come here almost every day, I would have thought you’d know what a cake hoop was by now.”

He scoffed and picked up the round hoop, sticking his hand through it and twirling it on his wrist and he circled the table. “I come here for you and your treats, you don’t give me baking lessons.” He stood behind her and leaned his chin on her shoulder, holding the hoop out for her to take.

“Are you asking for lessons?” There was a hint of friendly challenge in her voice.

“I’d rather leave the baking to you so I can continue to come bother you every day.”

She took some resting dough from the drawer below and kneaded it effortlessly. It was an activity she usually enjoyed, but now all she could think about was Fíli’s chest barley touching her back. “You don’t bother me, Fíli.”

“You enjoy my visits?”

She flipped the ball of dough and pounded it with her fist. “Can you hand me the jar of flour? I can never reach it, it’s behind you on the top shelf.”

“I will after you answer my question.” His breath tickled her neck.

“Fíli.”

“Do you enjoy my visits?”

She reached across the table and took a cake off the cooling rack. She shoved it in his face without turning around. “Eat this and stop asking me that.”

He chuckled and disappeared from her. Seconds later, the jar of flour landed on the counter next to her. “It’s delicious,” Fíli said, words gooey with cake. He leaned on the other side of the table, giving her the space she needed to work. “What else did you make today?”

Her vigorous kneading made her voice shake and Fíli chewed on his cake in order to hide his amused smile. “In the oven is a cake- a new recipe- and it looks good so far, but I don’t think I’ll make it again. It needs twenty-six egg yokes.” She finished with a wince.

“Twenty-six?”

“Yes! And the egg whites had to be whipped for what felt like eternity. I thought my hand was going to fall off.”

He glared at the cake in the oven, cursing it for causing her anything but joy. “What made you want to make this cake in the first place?”

“It’s supposed to be really good!”

His hearty laugh mixed with the cake almost choked him. “I’m sure it will be! And you’ll sup with us tonight.”

Her kneading slowed. “Oh, no, I have to clean everything and it won’t be done in time and I won’t be ready and-”

“I’ll come help you clean-”

“No, you won’t!”

“Yes, I will. I’ll come after my training session with Kíli. You deserve to eat what you’ve so painstakingly baked!” His brows flew up again as they so often did when he was waiting for her to argue with him.

She sighed. “All right. Thank you, Fíli.” She returned to her work, grinning at her hands and glancing up to see him watching her. Then she stopped. “Oh! I forgot, I made something you’d like. I want you to try it.” In her excitement, her hands flew out from her sides toward the end of the counter.

“This?” Fíli asked, standing near the treat she gestured to.

She turned over her shoulder as she wiped her hands. “That’s a custard.” She bent into the ice box to retrieve a dish and by the time she straightened, Fíli had already taken a bite of the custard she’d left out to cool.

“No, no! You- you won’t like that,” she said with a wince.

Fíli’s entire face scrunched as if he stuck an overgrown lemon in his mouth instead of a single bite of custard. Then he tilted his head. “It’s actually quite good.”

She set the cool plate on the counter and took a spoon from the drawer. “Don’t be nice, I know how you hate apples.” She didn’t miss his small shiver. “You’ll like this much better, here.” She held out a spoon full of white cream. Instead of taking the spoon from her, Fíli bent to take the end in his mouth, making (Y/N) roll her eyes.

“Mahal,” he groaned. “That is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. What is that?”

“Lemon syllabub. Cream, wine and lemons.” She giggled as he moaned again. “There will be more of this tonight in case the cake is a disaster.”

Fíli stole another spoonful. “Nothing you make could ever be anything less than delicious.”

“Just in case.”

He hummed. With his eyes closed in bliss, (Y/N) was able to watch him in peace. His tongue waved over his smiling lips. Pink on pink, soft, plush, pillowed-

“Aren’t you going to be late for your training session?” she asked.

“You’re right, I should go. Though I don’t know how much sparring I’ll be able to do with a belly full of your sweets.”

“I’m not sorry for it,” she said, rolling a few cakes in a thin towel. “I don’t know a dam alive who doesn’t love a full dwarf belly.” She met him by the door and gave him the little package. “These are for Kíli. Go give them to him now, don’t keep him waiting.” Her light hand found Fíli’s waist as she kissed his cheek. She chuckled at his surprise and gave him a little shove, closing the door behind him and returning to her work.

She couldn’t stop grinning as she hummed her favorite tune and continued kneading the dough she’d left on the counter. She was entertained by the dwarf who could flirt endlessly but couldn’t handle a small kiss from her. Pride bubbled in her chest at the thought of his wide eyes and tomato red ears.

The door flew open and startled her.

“Fíli, what’s wrong?”

Once the wrapped cakes were set safely on the counter, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. He smiled against her lips when her hands again found his waist, bunching his tunic in her fists. He drew away with a wide grin. “Which hand almost fell off because of that cake?”

She stuck up her sore hand, silent and stunned.

He took it and kissed her knuckles and then her palm. He grabbed the cakes and said, “I’ll be back in a bit. Leave the dirty dishes for me.” And he ran out the door to meet Kíli.

Taglist! @emrfangirl @misslongcep @raindancer2004 @ladybugg1235 @xxbyimm @burningcoffeetimetravel @fizzyxcustard @fire-flv @nerdbirdsworld @dashesofink @teagarages @dark-angel-be-thirsty-af @zulfiya-the-warrior-princess @winchesterandpie @marigoldvance

#fili x reader #fili friday #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fic #dean o'gorman x reader

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scholar-thief · 4 years

Photo

[ RP LOG ]

Momori meets Livia Dreamspell, and makes her a sandwich.

Livia was seated on the cot, though it might be easier to say she was lounging. An empty cup of tea was in her hand, while she read from an open book that she propped in her lap. She looked easily on the mend; not as injured as when she was found. For the moment, she seemed unaware of her surroundings.

Momori steps into the common area, presumably looking for anything edible that can warm up her cold bones. Hours (or perhaps days?) spent outside has stolen every last bit of heat from her body. She notices someone already there, resting, with what looks to be a cup of tea in her hand. Bingo.

Momori: “Hello.” A pause. “Tea?”

Livia jolted a little at the sound of Momori's voice, looking up at her with wide eyes. She stared a moment, then said, "Oh, yes! There's a pot still on. It's a sweet blend. Help yourself." Another pause, and she looked at her empty plate that was sitting next to her. "Ah, there's-- also some! Biscuits. On the table." A gesture, and it seemed she had already made a dent in them. There was still plenty, however.

Momori - Like some food-starved goblin, Momori immediately follows up on Livia’s answer. She pushes a stool by the stove and pours herself two large mugs of tea, which are brought to the table to enjoy with the biscuits. As she drinks, the hot leaf juice warms her from inside out, bringing some relief and a sigh from her.

Momori - Now warm and coherent, she glances over to Livia. She recognized her as one of the ones who had been held hostage, but that was basically it. Introductions were in order.

Momori: “Hey, who are you.” Ah, too blunt. Ease it up a bit. “I mean, how’re you doing?”

Livia widened her eyes a fraction, but couldn't help a smile from crossing her lips. "I'm Livia. It's nice to meet you. I don't think I've had the pleasure before now. I've been, ah... away on business. Prior to the whole situation that happened recently."

Momori: “Business?” She tilts her head, curious, but catches herself at the end. “Oh. I’m Momori. Nice to meet you too.”

Livia held her smile, though it looked a little bittersweet. "Some work in Gyr Abania. It is behind us, now." A pause, as recognition then reached her eyes. "Momori. You were with Reinette." A breath left her. "I am grateful for your role in our rescue, and in working so closely with her."

Momori: “Yes. It was...” She thinks back to that fateful day in Azys Lla, of the machina. The powerful attacks her comrades had unleashed. It was a first for her, honestly. “It was quite the light show.”

Momori: “How are you recovering? I’d imagine the Rovers were anything but gentle.”

Livia nodded a little. "That Reinette decided to fight alongside was no small thing. I understand you are new to the Voyage, but to most, she was a noncombatant." At Momori's next question, she looked away a moment. "I got off better than some of the others," she admitted. "I am very good at playing dumb, so I was spared harsher treatment for that reason, I suspect."

Momori dwells on Livia’s comment about Reinette. “Well, she’s quite good at it. Slinging spells like no tomorrow. To be honest, at this point I expect most to be versed in some form of self defense, though to what level I’ve...” She thinks back to Caelrin, and how the man had literally transformed into some avatar of destruction. “It’s not easy to surprise me, but so far, the Voyage has thrown me in for a loop.”

Momori - Tea time? Tea time! She takes a looong chug, finishing her first mug.

Livia canted her head, a little, as she finally set her empty cup down. "I joined early on. Not when it started, but... I had a debt to repay. Even after what I experienced, I do not regret my time here. I have made cherished friendships. I hope the same is true for you."

Momori: “I only make the uncherished types of friendship. Easier on the stomach.” A joke? A true statement? A lie? Maybe all of the above? Momori is a mystery. She follows this up by starting her attack on some biscuits.

Momori: “A debt to repay. To the Father?” She scarfs down the baked goods. “Didn’t realize he was in the business of giving loans as well.”

Livia gave a small, tired titter of a laugh. "I seem to make a habit of being saved, I suppose. I was taken out of a sticky situation by the expedition, and in exchange, I offered my services to the good priest and his entourage. He accepted, and that is how I joined."

Momori: “Ah, then this makes it the second time the expedition rescued you. Careful, men of clergy can be shrewd businessmen, and you may find yourself in debt to the ‘good father’ for a longer while yet.”

Livia hummed a little, but there was some amusement in it. "I trust Father Salem not to take advantage of such things. He has always been exceptionally kind to me, even prior to this expedition."

Momori doesn’t comment any further on the subject, though judging by the slightly different variation of ‘vacant look’ on her face, it’s giving her quite a bit to think about.

Momori - Eventually, she snaps out of it, and changes the subject to...human topics! How to bond with others 101. “What’s your favorite food.” It comes out more of a demand than a question...

Livia blinked and stared at Momori with her eyes widened a fraction. "Um," she hesitated, thrown off by the sudden shift. "For something savory, I enjoy something called a tajine. My aunt makes it. But I admit, I have something of a sweet tooth. My husband makes a rolled bread with a chocolate filling, that I am especially fond of."

Momori: “Is it something we can get nearby, or make? That tajine thing of yours.” She rotates her hand a few times, as if the motion would help her conjure up an image of the foreign food in her mind. “Because after everything that’s happened, you certainly look like you could use a pick me up.”

Livia softened her expression a touch. "My aunt lives in Ishgard. Not that far. I suppose she would be welcome company, after all this. I'm sure she'd be happy to cook for you, while we're there. You would love a tajine... It's a bird, slow cooked to the point that even the bones are edible. Spiced, hearty, meant to be shared."

Momori: “What is with you guys and eating bones.” Momori makes a scrunched up face. “Ser Mask had tried to convince me that milk was ground up bones, to the point where we shared a glass together. Crotchety old fart.”

Momori: “What you’re describing sounds a lot better though. It’s been far too long since I had something that was adequately spicy.” Momori sighs. Ishgardian food was like the polar opposite of Ul'dahn cuisine.

Livia canted her head a little. "Ishgardians traditionally love spice, but they tend to brute force it, rather than using it as a flavor enhancer. I can't blame them, given the climate, but there's a certain... delicacy to Thavnairian spices. It rests on the palate, warms you comfortably. I prefer my aunt's cooking for that reason."

Momori shrugs. “Maybe I just miss eating things drenched in hot pepper powder.” Her mind wanders, to bygone days in the scorching sun. “But I digress. Yes, let’s pay your aunt a visit sometime. Can’t beat home cooking.”

Livia smiled at her. "Where are you from? You must be a long way from home, for such nostalgic musings that food can bring. Few things hearken to home like a certain meal."

Momori: “Ul’dah. Still dressed for it too.” She shifts slightly to the side, showing off her bare shoulders. “I...would love to indulge in anything that even remotely resembles Ul’dahn cuisine, but I’m afraid the kitchen is truly my enemy. I have yet to meet someone else who can set water ablaze.”

Momori: “I can, however, make sandwiches.” She looks proud. Incredibly so.

Livia lifted a hand to pull her long ponytail over her shoulder. As she played with it, she looked past Momori in thought. "My cousin grew up in Ul'dah. She could cook you something. Me, I am not at all familiar with the kitchen. I never quite learned how to cook outside of grilling fish steaks, and boiling rice." A small laugh left her, mostly at her own expense.

Momori gets up and begins to search the pantry cupboards, and fishes out a half finished loaf of bread. She begins to hack at it with her dagger. “Oh? Does your cousin also live nearby?” Four incredibly jagged slices of bread have been shorn from the loaf. She stacks them on top of one another. A...sandwich.

Livia watched Momori with a raised brow, as she went about attacking a loaf. "She's on the Voyage. People call her Rizzo." She shifted, some, and then leaned her back against the wall, stretching her legs out in front of her. "We joined somewhat together, though for vastly different reasons. She is not repaying a debt."

Momori has finished her creation. Two piles of bread, with nothing in between. She brings one over to Livia. “Eat.”

Momori: “Rizzo. The name sounds familiar.” Momori vaguely remembers someone of that name back at when they were flying kites. Someone who had been flying one of those ‘two person’ kites by herself. “We’re all here for different reasons, so it’s not a surprise. Though the lack of pay means that everyone's here for a very, very good reason.”

Livia let out an 'oh!' with surprise as she was brought food! Carefully taking one of the sandwiches, she smiled as brightly as she could toward Momori. "...Thank you! So much." She then pat the edge of the cot. "Come, join me, and we will feast together."

Momori seems surprised by Livia’s invitation, and stands in place. Frozen. She finally gets up on the cot and takes her place at the farthest corner, taking as little room as possible.

Livia scoots closer to the wall, and speaks with quiet encouragement, "You may sit closer. It's alright! I've got plenty of room." She gave her another big smile, her eyes closing with the expression.

Momori: “Thank you. Wow, very comfortable.” She calls out whilst facing away from Livia. It comes out somewhat muffled, between bites of breadwich. “It’s okay, this suits me just fine.”

Livia nodded once, "Of course, at your comfort." Then, she took a bite of her sandwich. Then another. It seemed like she ate as if afraid it would be taken from her. In a matter of moments, she had consumed most of what was given.

Momori is only into her second bite when Livia is done eating. There’s a hint of a smile on her lips. “Would you like another? There’s still some bread left in the cupboards.” She pauses. "Do you always eat like...that?"

Momori: “I have only seen similar levels of bread aggression when feeding waterfowl.”

Livia was an incredibly neat eater, her speed notwithstanding. She didn't even get any crumbs in the bed. God bless. "Like what...?" she asks, sounding genuinely curious. After a moment, she seemed to understand in part. "Quickly? Oh. I suppose it was a habit of my training. When I was raised under the Fist's teachings, I had to prioritize how I used my time."

Momori: “Like a d...duck?” She makes a face of distaste upon mentioning the fowl beast.

Momori thinks. “It’s interesting how alike, yet different our training is, then. I was taught to enjoy food piece by piece, slowly. Quietly.” That said, Momori was just moments ago inhaling her tea and biscuits. She could do with more training.

Livia eyed her curiously. There was a subtle buzzing of interest as she sat up straighter, and looked more attentive. "What was your training? What kind of art do you practice?"

Momori hums to herself. Rule #14 to gain someone’s trust - reveal aspects about yourself, so that they feel comfortable around you. “I am trained as a scholar of sorts, though I focus mainly on conservation and history.” It was true, for sure, but not the whole picture.

Momori: “My martial arts are all self taught though. Nothing to write home about.” She unsheathes one of her blades and spins it around, her dexterity impressive (and perhaps a bit suspicious) for one who claimed to be untrained.

Livia squinted and watched the spinning of the blade. She then stated, with uncharacteristic bluntness, "I do not believe you." A beat, and she gestured to her, "Bladework is difficult. Risky. Requires a great deal of practice, and if one tries to maintain discipline on those techniques on their own, the chance that they live long is slim."

Momori - There’s a glint in her eye as she catches her blade, mid spin. “Hehe. Believe what you want, but a novice such as I would love to see a Fist like yourself in action.“ She returns the dagger back into its sheath. “When you’re feeling well, let’s spar together sometime.”

Livia squinted with a hint of incredulity. "Reinette's description of your combat depicted someone who was more than a novice. She held nothing but praise for your capability."

Livia: But... I would gladly take you up on that offer. There are few ways to get to know someone better than through a spar.

Momori feigns an almost childlike ignorance. “Oh, did she? I was really nothing compared to her. But I’ll have to thank her for the kind words next time I see her.”

Momori: “Anyway, it’s a promise. Thanks, teach.” She gives Livia a small smile.

Livia couldn't help but return the smile, giving her a nod. "Thank you for the company, Momori. You are very sweet. When I am back to form, I will be glad to sing in battle with you."

#Momori Mori #Livia Dreamspell #ff14 rp logs #with every passing day momori acquires more dumb traits #i guess she hates ducks now?? and loves hot cheetos?#a gremlim >:I #heartless AU

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noxpatronum · 5 years

Text

Nesting

A/N Pregnant Hinny(!) short one shot inspired by this post :)

Harry wipes his brow in a quick tiff of frustration, huffing out a sigh. “Gin.”

She rolls her eyes with a small laugh, her swollen ankles propped up on the chair beside her own. “Harry, it’s just soup. It’s the simplest recipe I can think to give you.”

“Simplest? This is a bloody nightmare, that’s what it is!” He glances over the pot, his glasses managing to get foggy once again. This arouses another sigh. “You’re very lucky that I fancy you and cater to your every whim, Weasley.”

Ginny smiles, rubbing her swollen stomach. “You’re very lucky that I’m incredibly pregnant and am growing your firstborn, Potter. It’s not so easy giving life to the Chosen One’s son. I can feel his ego bursting at the seams already.” She teases, letting out a squeak of laughter when her husband barrels over to her and lifts her into the air bridal style, gently tossing her onto their sofa. She beams at his crooked grin and presses a short kiss to his lips, blissfully happy at their little creation and near future.

The duration of Ginny’s pregnancy sped by, much to her dismay. Harry doted on her almost annoyingly, but his excitement was contagious, even when she was in the most hormonal of moods. He was overtly full of nervous energy.

“Gin, we flew a car.”

“Well in your defense, love, you really wanted to get to school.”

“We could have waited at Kings Cross like decent children! Surely we weren’t the first for that to happen to.”

Or once, while she was in the shower, Harry popped through the door with a “Do you realize that I released a snake so it could go home. Ginny, it was really just minding its own business! What was wrong with me?” It took all of the rest of her shower for her to convince him that he had the best of intentions and that all things considered, it wasn’t that bad.

“I can’t even count the amount of detentions I’ve had. How many howlers are we going to have to send, Ginny? How many?” He said out of the blue one day on a walk, his wife really just waddling at this point. “I could lose my voice very easily, you know. Doesn’t that happen when you get older? You lose your voice from yelling at your children?”

Ginny just rolled her eyes at that one.

Ron was just as bad. Although he was excited to be an uncle, and excited to see his best mate and sister become parents, he was equally as nervous. “Harry, our children are going to be spending their whole childhoods together, you realize this, don't you?” He says through a bite of a biscuit, the two men sitting together as they watched a quidditch game on the telly. “You add our genes into the mix and we’re going to get more injuries than we can count!” He starts holding up fingers, mumbling through all the times he had broken bones before finally giving up. “We cannot ever let them be alone. I wouldn't trust us, let alone our evil spawn!”

“Ronald!” Hermione huffs. “You shouldn’t call our future children evil spawn!”

“Sorry, dear.” He smiles apologetically, before looking to Harry and mouthing ‘evil’.

A few days before her due date, Ginny went into labor. This, of course, sent Harry into such an anxious state that Molly Weasley (very politely) asked him to leave the room, and that his presence and squeaking wouldn’t be needed until Ginny was actually pushing. Once she was he put on a calm facade, holding her hand and kissing her temple.

When he heard his son’s first cry upon entering the world, Harry Potter wept tears of joy and kissed his wife’s damp cheek, holding her hand to his chest.

“You did wonderfully, Gin.” He murmured, not taking his eyes off of his baby boy as the nurses cleaned him up.

Harry decided to let Ginny hold their little creation up until she got tired, at which point he insisted she take a much needed rest. During this time he sat in the little window of their hospital room, cradling the newest addition to the Potter household. James Sirius Potter. His son. Their son. Already he treasured his dark hair, his sweet little fingers and toes, his cheeks and his pouty lips. He could already see his first steps, first broom ride. He saw himself waving this little boy off at Kings Cross on Platform 9 3/4 on his first day of school, and could see himself opening letters addressed to Mum and Dad in scrawled handwriting with the Hogwarts seal printed above it.

Harry James Potter had died for this moment right here, and the aftermath was sleeping right in his arms.

#hinny #hinny fanfic #harry potter #ginny weasley #harry x ginny #James Sirius Potter

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the-observant-frisbeetarian · 5 years

Text

Chapter 1 - Venus et Éclair

La Patisserie de la Rose by George deValier

CHAPTER ONE Venus et Éclair

It was a dull, grey morning as Matthew walked briskly down the dull, grey street. It was the ninth morning he had walked to work down this very street, every one the same, every one dull and grey. Matthew was used to being passed over and unnoticed, but in this new, huge city, he felt completely invisible. This place was too large and unfriendly: hundreds of people hurrying past with their eyes on the ground, practically identical in their grey suits with their grey expressions. Grey buildings lined both sides of the street; grey shops and businesses all blended together. And it seemed that every day the sky overhead was dark with the promise of rain. Matthew clenched his hand around his briefcase, clenched his teeth as the teeming crowd pushed past him unseeing. At least his little apartment was not far from his large office block, so this dull, grey, every-morning walk did not take long.

It was a good opportunity, they had said. A promotion to a new position in the big city. And Matthew had never been good at confrontation, so he had simply said thank you, packed up his dull little life, and moved across the country to become another number cruncher lost in a faceless company. He had been here two weeks now, but no one in his office even knew his name yet. He was pretty sure no one even knew what he did.

Matthew suddenly had to dodge out the way of a man not watching where he was going. Just as he fell against a shop wall to avoid a head-on collision, it began raining heavily. Matthew groaned to himself. This day was starting even better than usual.

Matthew put his briefcase over his head and began to look for cover. His eyes darted along the street, looking for an awning or a ledge or any kind of shelter from the pelting rain. And then, like a bright burst of colour exploding into this grey morning, his gaze fell on the most colourful little shop window he had ever seen. He took a few steps closer, fascinated. Variously shaped and coloured cakes and pastries sat arranged like an art exhibit on white-clothed tables and silver tiers: little fruit tarts, pies topped with berries, plates of red and pink iced biscuits, white dusted muffins, cupcakes of every colour of the rainbow. Matthew almost forgot the rain as he stared at the visual feast, his mouth starting to water, his eyes drinking in the explosion of colour. But he quickly began to shiver, realised the rain was soaking through his clothes, and darted into the shop.

A cheerful little bell announced his arrival as the warmth of the place engulfed Matthew immediately. Inside, the burst of colour was even more intense, along with the sweet, delightful scent of melted chocolate and baking bread. The nostalgic sound of Edith Piaf's unmistakable voice flowed softly through the shop; elegantly framed black and white photographs of Parisian landmarks decorated the walls. A glass counter ran across the back of the room, separating the front of the small shop – the word 'cosy' sprang to mind - from a little serving area behind. Matthew felt strangely comfortable in here; oddly at ease as he looked around at the side shelves of even more exquisitely lovely sweets and pastries. He had already eaten breakfast – pancakes with maple syrup and a café latte at 7am sharp, the same as every morning – but he felt suddenly famished.

"Bonjour, monsieur!" Matthew looked up at the voice. The man behind the counter blinked as Matthew turned, his eyes widened, and he looked Matthew up and down. "Well, bonjour!" he said again, emphasising the second part of the word, then leant forward on the counter and smiled brightly. He had wavy blond shoulder-length hair and slight facial stubble on his handsome face, and was dressed in jeans and a flour-dusted apron. And there was something about the way he smiled, the way he leant easily on the counter, the way his dancing blue eyes ran across Matthew's body – Matthew felt himself blushing red, without really knowing why.

"Bonjour," Matthew responded, somewhat hesitantly.

"Can I give you a… hand, by any chance?" Matthew had to pause and wonder whether the blond baker had actually meant it to sound like that. The man winked and Matthew's eyebrows shot up. Oh. He had.

"No, thank you. It's just…" Matthew looked down at himself, his suit dripping rain onto the floor. He was creating puddles all over the shop. "Well, it started raining, and I didn't want to get wet, but… well, it looks like I have anyway, doesn't it. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to drench your floor. I'll just go."

"No!" The man said it so sincerely that Matthew stopped immediately. "No, please," the man continued, softer. "Stay there one moment."

Matthew waited, a little unsure, as the baker disappeared out the back door. He reappeared a moment later with a white, fluffy towel in his hands, then walked through a gap in the counter by the wall and handed the towel to Matthew. Matthew smiled carefully as he took it.

"Thank you," said Matthew as he placed his briefcase down and dried his hair, feeling a little awkward at using this stranger's towel. Now that he was so close, Matthew could see that the baker stood at an equal height to his own, those dancing blue eyes still travelling up and down. He smelt like caramel and spun sugar. And why did he keep looking at him like that? Like he was almost amused, his eyebrows raised and his lips curled upwards.

"But not at all. You are on your way to work?" The man's voice was heavily accented. He could possibly be from Quebec, but something about him seemed undeniably French.

"Yes," replied Matthew. "Or I was, before the rain caught me."

The man tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Let me guess. The suit tells me… investment banker?"

Matthew exhaled sharply in amusement. "Close. Accountant."

The man wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Oh, I do apologise." Matthew rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh. "But please, forgive my rudeness. My name is Francis. Welcome to La Patisserie de la Rose!" Francis held his hand out and Matthew took it in a firm handshake. Francis' hands were smooth with flour.

"Thank you. I'm Matthew." Matthew quickly found himself fascinated by those dancing blue eyes. Just what was going on here? This man certainly seemed interested in him. But then maybe he introduced himself to all his customers like this. "Your patisserie is… well, it's amazing. Do you make all these yourself?"

Francis nodded slightly, his expression pleased and proud. "Every one, my dear. I am an artiste, and these are my humble creations."

"They're incredible," said Matthew honestly, his eyes falling on a fully formed and intricately decorated gingerbread house, complete with marshmallow windows and liquorice latticework and even a chocolate chimney. "I can't believe I've never noticed this place before, and I walk past every day. Of course, I've only been in town two weeks." He realised too late that Francis had called him 'my dear' and felt just a little awkward again. But then, Francis seemed like the type of man who could get away with using endearments like that with virtual strangers. Or the type of man who simply didn't care.

"Two weeks, hmm? That makes sense. If you had been in before, I surely would have remembered."

No, he definitely seemed interested. Matthew had to wonder at the statement. He was not the type of person people remembered. He was not the type of person who was flirted with by complete strangers, either. Beneath the awkwardness and slight confusion, Matthew was also starting to feel strangely flattered.

"So exactly where on earth did you drop in from?" continued Francis easily.

"Just a little town up north. You wouldn't have heard of it… no one has. I must admit, I'm not used to a city this big."

"This is nothing to Paris, my dear." Francis pronounced it the French way, and Matthew nodded to himself. French – of course.

"Paris? I wondered about the accent."

Francis sighed dramatically. "Oui, Paris, the city of my heart, and where I perfected my trade."

Matthew looked over a little table display of exquisitely embellished red velvet cupcakes, then back at Francis with a tiny, uncertain smile. "You are very talented." Matthew wasn't sure if he was flirting back, and wasn't sure if he wanted to. It was definitely not something he was used to.

"You are too kind to say so. But my artwork is not just for looking, Mathieu. Tell me." Francis' blue eyes twinkled playfully. "How can I tempt you this morning?"

Matthew tightened his grip on the towel. How did Francis make those innocent words sound so – well – un-innocent? Matthew swallowed and stammered. He had quickly reached the limits of his flirting ability. "Uh… well, I don't really know…"

Francis smirked and beckoned him with a finger before walking back to the counter. Matthew followed, slightly dazed, his eyes travelling downwards of their own accord. The way Francis walked - the phrase 'sex on legs' immediately entered Matthew's mind, and he mentally slapped himself for thinking something so ridiculous. He placed the towel down on a stool by the counter. Francis reached into the glass cabinet, pulled out a tray of bite-sized desserts, and laid them on the counter. Matthew studied them closely. Perfectly smooth, round, white meringues topped with little red berry tips. Matthew gasped when he realised what they were. "Oh!"

"My own version of the famous Nipples of Venus," said Francis, grinning wickedly. "Or, if you prefer, I have these…" Francis reached again into the cabinet, bringing out another tray of unusually shaped desserts, and laid them beside the meringues with a flourish. Matthew recognised immediately what these were. The miniature log éclairs had two little chocolate orbs attached at one end, and a darkened little sculpted end at the other.

"Oh!" said Matthew again, feeling his cheeks burn bright red. He had to stop himself putting a hand to his mouth, determined not to look like some sort of blushing schoolgirl. What sort of man made pastries like these? He forced himself to look directly at Francis. "Please tell me they're not cream-filled."

Francis laughed lightly, then gestured dramatically over the two trays. "So, Mathieu. Which do you prefer?"

Matthew's eyes went wide and his mouth almost fell open. Surely, he couldn't be asking… Francis winked. Oh. He was asking. The room felt suddenly very hot, despite Matthew's wet clothes. Well. This was one way to ask a sensitive question… Matthew took a deep breath, told himself to man up, and very deliberately reached out and picked up one of the little éclairs. Francis' grin widened. He looked positively thrilled. Matthew suddenly did not know what to do with his hands, with his eyes. Francis looked pointedly at the éclair in Matthew's hand and inclined his head slightly.

"Please. Tell me what you think."

And now came the dilemma of actually eating a pastry shaped like a penis in front of a man he'd just met. Matthew wasn't quite sure if there was a correct manner to do such a thing. But he certainly wasn't about to back down now, so he just met Francis' gaze evenly, and placed the éclair in his mouth. And then he forgot to feel awkward, or embarrassed, or any of it. Because this was the most amazing thing he had ever tasted. The hard chocolate layer cracked between his teeth and gave way to a silky, white chocolate centre that melted on his tongue. The contrast of textures played on his senses, the touch and smell and incredible taste of it; the brief richness of dark cocoa, the sweet burst of flavoured cream, the lingering lightness of sugar-dusted pastry. Matthew couldn't stop his eyes fluttering closed, the final taste like an explosion on his taste buds, and he swallowed almost regretfully. His fingers lingered on his mouth and he drew his bottom lip between his teeth, took a deep breath and sighed. "Oh, wow."

Francis laughed breathily and Matthew's eyes flew open. "Was it good for you?" asked Francis, his eyes slightly lowered, his cheeks just the tiniest bit darker.

"Wow," said Matthew again, unthinkingly. He had never tasted anything like that in his life. "That was the most incredible thing I've ever had in my mouth."

Francis looked quite self-satisfied. "I hear that a lot."

Matthew dropped his hand and laughed shakily. What a completely embarrassing, new, strange, amazing situation. "Uh, I mean... I'll take a dozen."

Francis shook his head and folded his arms. "No."

Matthew blinked his wide eyes, taken aback. "No?"

"No. I could not stand to have you make such a display without me there to watch. It would be a betrayal, darling." Matthew raised an eyebrow. Darling, now? "If you want more…" Francis' expression twisted deviously, "You'll just have to come back." Matthew wasn't sure whether to feel flattered or just really annoyed. He glanced back down at the plate of pastries, but Francis took it away and placed it back under the glass. "Uh-uh. I think I shall allow you… one a day, yes?"

"You can't do that!" said Matthew indignantly.

Francis smirked. "Oh, but I can, dear Mathieu. After all, I need some assurance that you will return to me, don't I?"

Despite his annoyance, Matthew felt a warm glow in his chest. Francis must really be interested in him to go to such elaborate lengths to see him again. Matthew studied the baker closely: his alluring smile and teasing expression, the seductive way he leant against the counter and gazed with heavy lidded eyes. Matthew realised that he wanted to see Francis again, too. He had never met anyone so brazen, so… intriguing. Matthew sighed and rolled his eyes in surrender. Francis grinned in triumph. "Fine. But it's terrible customer service. What do I owe you?" Francis frowned, and Matthew knew immediately he had said the wrong thing. He began to stammer an apology, but Francis just shook his head and clicked his tongue.

"Ever the accountant, no? Please, Mathieu." Francis placed a hand to his chest. "All I require in payment is the great pleasure of your company."

At the mention of his work, Matthew suddenly gasped. Oh, he had gotten so carried away… "Oh, no! I'm going to be late!"

"And such perfect timing. It has stopped raining."

Matthew jumped up and rushed for his briefcase. He looked out the window at the clearing skies and saw that Francis was right. "I'm so sorry, I have to dash! Oh no, and I've already been late twice this week… Um, thank you, Francis, and it was nice to meet you, and…" He turned back to see Francis resting his chin on his hand, smiling at him softly. Matthew immediately forgot the rest of his panicked rant.

"Tomorrow, yes? Until then." Francis waved his fingers lightly. "Au revoir, mon cher."

Matthew bit his lip, then smiled across the charming, bright little shop at the bold, captivating French baker. "Yes," he replied, nodding. "Tomorrow."

Matthew stepped out of the patisserie and, before taking off again down the street, glanced back at the door he had just walked out of. There was an intricate red rose carved into the wood. The entire patisserie was more like something from an enchanting little Parisian alley than this grey, industrial street where all the buildings looked the same and no one looked you in the eye. And yet, now, the dull, grey world seemed just a little bit brighter. Matthew spent the rest of the day thinking of Francis, of visiting the little patisserie again tomorrow. And Matthew realised, that for the first time in weeks, he was actually looking forward to something.

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

#george devalier #la patisserie de la rose #la patisserie de la rose chapter 1

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