#in queue to get a baguette*

[hannahssimblr]

“Jude,”

A small finger prods my cheek. My Forehead. My chin. “Jude. Jude. Judie.” I groan and pull the duvet over my face to stop the sun from searing my eyeballs. 

My voice is hoarse, “Did you open the blinds?”

“It’s eight. You’re supposed to get up.”

“God, why?”

My sister repeatedly slaps my head through the covers, “There’s no baguette.”

“No baguette?” What is she talking about? “Ivy, stop, stop,” I grab her little wrist and pull it away from me, awake now and not pleased about it. “Why did you come in here, huh? You’re not supposed to come into my room.”

She whips her arm out of my grip, “But it’s eight,” She says, “and there's no baguette left.” 

“Oh, for breakfast,” I rub sleep from my eyes, “Okay yeah, I get it. We’re out of bread.”

“You have to go to the bakery before they all sell out. All the old grannies get there first and they buy up the baguettes,” She throws herself down at the foot of my bed and kicks her feet up in the air. She’s dressed herself already, I see, in scruffy clothes that she’s usually only allowed to wear when she’s staying home. “And I think I feel like a chocolate croissant today.”

“A chocolate one? Since when are you a spoiled little brat?”

She sticks her tongue out, “Uh! You always sneak me a chocolate one when mom and dad are away.”

She’s right, I was just teasing. “Okay, get out of my room and wait for me, I need to get changed.”

She runs obediently out while I drag myself out of bed and into yesterday’s shorts, cursing every other teenage boy who will get to sleep in until midday and beyond today, blissfully free of all responsibility and all little sisters. And Jen too, in the guest room next door, probably sleeping soundly and won’t have to deal with anything like this, and will run free all summer, sleeping under the same roof with different rules to the ones I must adhere to. 

It’s a bright morning. The tide is in and the air is salty and fresh as seagulls circle over the strand. The beach cleaners are always out at this time, in their high visibility jackets and yellow rubber gloves plucking up the debris left over from yesterday's holiday makers. Ivy skips alongside me with her worn out sandals crunching on the sand that’s blown in over the ground, gleefully kicking the fallen palm fronds over into the low stone wall that borders the path. 

“What are you so happy about?” I say accusingly, though her joy is unfortunately contagious. 

“Everything. I’m going to kids club and it’s sunny today and mom and dad are working in Dublin for the whole week and I’m getting a chocolate croissant,” She sings that last word with glee and skips and spins ahead of me, flapping her arms around with free, unfettered delight like she could take off and fly. 

“C’mon, you’re hyper. Save some energy for the club. What are you going to be doing today anyway? Art or sports?”

“Yesterday was sport. We did dodgeball but with those soft, squishy balls.”

“The foam ones?”

“Yeah, and one of the boys took a bite out of one of them, it was disgusting.”

I laugh, “You know I used to take bites out of them too.”

She comes back and gives me a slap in the thigh, “You’re a smelly, disgusting boy too, then.”

“Yeah, I am, but I don’t care. Foam has an interesting texture, huh?”

“No it doesn’t, and it’s filthy and it’s all rolled all over the floor and had dirty old hands all over it.”

I shrug, when I was a child the last thing I cared about was whose dirty hands touched what, nothing like Ivy. I shoved everything I could find in my mouth with abandon, I didn't care. Honestly I still don’t really care, because at this point I’ve put the kinds of filthy, unregulated things into my mouth that make a foam dodgeball seem gourmet. “So if you did sports yesterday, does that mean you’re doing art today?”

“Yep.”

From where we stand in the queue outside the bakery, the smell of fresh bread and buttery pastry floats right toward us and makes my stomach growl, “So what do you think you’ll be doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“What would you like to do?”

“Well… once, in school, we did paper weaving.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

She looks at me incredulously, “You know what paper weaving is.”

“No, I don’t.”

A scoff, “You already know everything about art, so you definitely know about this.”

“Well let's pretend I don’t and you can tell me about it.”

And she does, she goes into incredible detail while we wait, and then I buy a baguette and three chocolate croissants, one for Jen, and I get Ivy some juice for the hell of it and a coffee for me even though I’m not sure if it’s coffee I like or the idea of it. 

I’m happy to let her talk like that. It fills a gap, and I like it, because when she’s talking so much it means that she’s comfortable and not conscious about annoying our parents or saying something that they think is silly. I want her to be silly. It’s what seven year olds are.

Back at the beach house I even put on music while I make some breakfast, Low by Flo Rida, because our mom hates music like this and always turns the radio off when it comes on, which is all the time lately because it’s plagued the charts for months. 

“How can she have apple bottom jeans and baggy sweatpants?” Ivy wonders as she munches on her buttered baguette. 

“I guess she has four legs,” I say, and she flinches as I try to grab her nose, “you shouldn’t be listening to the words of this song anyway, they’re for adults.” Last week she asked me what ‘promiscuous’ meant after I let her listen to Nelly Furtado and then I had to pretend I couldn’t find it in the dictionary.  

“Why? Because of her big bum?”

“Ivy!”

The boat club is busy that morning with hoards of parents leaving their children at the kids club. Children and parents and me, a sixteen year old brother. I feel self conscious as we wait to sign her in. 

“Good morning Ivy,” the activity leader beams down at her with a toothy grin, “Where’s mammy today?”

“Home in Dublin. She’s working.”

“And daddy?” I want to laugh at the absurd impression this woman has that our dad has done anything meaningful or useful for either of us in his life. 

“He has to work too.”

“They’re very busy,” I explain, “They usually need to be at home during the summer for several weeks on and off so I’m just stepping in for now.”

“Well lucky that they have you to take care of it all.”

Yes. Lucky me. I pass Ivy off to her and wave goodbye, and as I’m making my way back towards the exit I pass the dining room. I stop and peer through the door curiously, just in case, and alas, in the bright sunlight from the windows, the sound of cutlery and glass and the smell of breakfast in the air, she crosses the room, a flash of blonde in tight black clothes.

“Hi, Clóda.” I say. I’ve caught her off guard. 

“Jesus chr- Hello,” She puts the tray she was holding onto an empty table with a clatter and tucks the two front strands of her hair behind her ears. “Where did you come from?”

“I was bringing my sister to the kids club.”

“That’s nice of you.”

I shrug, “I like to give my parents a break from parenting sometimes.” I peer into the chaos behind her, “You busy?”

“Yes, I-” She turns around anxiously, “It’s very busy at breakfast time.”

“Okay well I’ll leave you alone then.”

“No, I-” 

I stop, and she pats her silky hair, twisted into a bun at the top of her head, “Are you hanging out on the beach later?”

“Uh, no.”

“Oh right, well, that’s fine then I was just-”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I interject quickly, “I’m just looking after my sister all week while my parents are away, I can’t really leave her alone at night or anything so I won’t really be around.”

She blinks, “Your parents left you alone for a week?”

“Yeah they always do that,” I say casually, “It’s fine. Jen is staying with us so sometimes she helps, but actually, no, mostly she doesn’t, which is fair enough.” I move away from the door to let a patron pass by and Clóda comes to lean with me against the wall, “But if you like, and it’s not weird for you you could always come over and babysit with me sometime.”

“How old is your sister?”

“She’s seven.”

“Cute.”

“She’s not cute, she’s a brat, but she goes to bed at half past eight, so,” I shrug, again, attempting to be cool and casual, and it seems to be working because Clóda is blushing now. “If you’re free tonight? We can watch a film, or… something…” I trail off, privately delighted by her pretty smile, evidence that she’s forgiven me for not touching her boob last week. Maybe I’ll remedy that tonight if she gives me another chance. 

There’s a man behind the bar watching us now, “Clóda,” he says sharply, “you have to work faster, get busy please.”

“Oh, um,” She wipes her hands on her trousers and reaches around awkwardly to retrieve her tray. “That’s my dad. He gets annoyed when I chat too much. Especially to… non-customers.”

I grin at the older man and wiggle my fingers at him while he practically snarls, his face jowled like a bulldog. “Nine?” I say to Clóda.

“Yeah, I’ll try.” And she’s gone. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy #he's back baby #i love ivy sm though she's so cute? #we did not see enough of her in lucky girl #i hope this sill be more of the Ivy show #i'm also having too much fun reliving 2008 #what a year

[live-laugh-lenney]

Can i have a headcanon or reaction for arthur tv with a veterinarian s/o pleaseeeeeee

this is so cute... like, i swear... him falling in love with a veterinarian when he has such a huge love for animals.. god, it's almost like fate.

-> it's almost like a chance meet that happens once...

-> and again... and again...

-> and then again until they decide to do something about.

-> there's no fancy party or dating app involved. no mutual friends who knew each other. his friend didn't set him up with her and her friend didn't even know of him.

-> it happens during her hour-long lunch break; a little bakery down the road from her place of work where they sell 'the best baguettes and do the best coffees in town' so she says. she still has her work uniform on, still has her name-tag hanging from her shirt, purse in her hand and her office keys/car keys dangling off her finger.

-> he just so happens to be standing behind her in the queue when she orders her baguette and her favourite coffee. having just finished on a football video shoot with chris down the road, the cupcakes and the croissants and the muffins caught his eye on his walk by, and he felt the need to make a pitstop on his way home to fill his stomach.

-> he notices her order before he notices her.

-> 'that sounds delightful'

-> 'it's delicious, you should try it'

-> 'you think?'

-> 'yeah, not that i was staring at you but you seemed to be a little bit overwhelmed with all the options up there so... try it and thank me later'

-> so he does and he thinks he has definitely found a new drink to fixate upon for the next week... but by the time he tries to tell her his opinion, she's disappeared and he has no idea where she went... his heart sinking in his chest.

-> neither of them thought they would bump into each other the next day... at the same time... except this time, she's behind him and he's ordering before her.

-> 'i told you that you'd like it'

-> 'you have an incredible palate to discover this. it's amazing'

-> he waits this time; he waits for her. he listens to her as she finishes off her order to the person behind the bar (who seemingly knew what she wanted before she spoke and he got the impression that she must have frequented this bakery for them to know her name and her order), almost standing with her as she orders her lunch of a baguette and a coffee at the counter.

-> 'i would stay but-'

-> 'oh, i wasn't waiting for you. i was just-"

-> 'it's okay. i would have asked you if you wanted to sit together but i have work to get back for.'

-> 'what do you do?'

-> 'i'm a vet at the centre down the road. this is a godsend for being so close and doing so many good lunch options. you should try their ham and rocket and cheese baguette. the rocket is a total game changer.'

-> she's walking towards the door and down the street before he realises and comes back to his senses; he's completely enamoured by her.

-> he's already in the bakery by the time she walks in the next day; and he's eating the baguette she told him to try. with the coffee beside his plate. and this time, he threw a curveball and got himself a little muffin that he wanted to recommend to her...

-> 'i feel like i should get a discount for getting new customers to start coming her more often'

-> he's blushing as he looks down at his plate, recognising the voice almost instantly, swallowing back his food and smiling warmly in her direction.

-> 'we must stop meeting here like this...'

-> he assumed she was waiting for his name and he spoke his name shyly. a grin on her lips. recalling his name before she introduced herself with her own name. and this time, she sat with him with her own order... in a bag and a takeaway cup... but he'd take that.

-> 'i have ten minutes before i need to be back. thought you could do with the company, arthur.'

-> and his name just rolls off of her tongue so perfectly. he loves the sound. loves how her tongue wraps around his name. loves how her mouth enunciates his name. loves how she spoke his name. his stomach filled with butterflies.

-> it becomes such a common thing.

-> sometimes she's there before him, sometimes he's there before her and yet, they still wait for the other and share one little fact or piece of information about one other as they get to know one another a little more than before.

-> she's interested in his job and how he gets to film all his fun times with his friends and get paid for it... and he's interested in her job and how she gets to be around animals all day and care for them in the best way possible.

-> she would have been lying if she said she didn't go home and google his name and find him on social media and follow him on his instagram and his twitter, finding him on youtube to watch a few of his videos whilst she ate her dinner or whilst she got ready for bed, stalking as much of his online presence to see what he was really like as a person.

-> 'this might seem forward and i love these lunchtime dates but-'

-> 'you think these are dates? i thought they were just coincidental meetings'

-> 'maybe we could try a proper date?'

-> 'like, drinks and dinner or?'

-> 'anything you want to do'

-> the last thing he expects her to say is bowling and the arcade that comes alongside it. claiming she wanted to do something fun and a little different and not anything boring like sitting down and getting to know one another. not having to be serious. being able to talk and laugh and be as silly as they wanted to do.

-> they exchange numbers. he drops her off home. she invites him in with the invitation of pizza from the local takeaway. she wasn't looking for love but... love definitely found her.

-> and from then on, their lunchtime dates move to her office and he'll always offer to grab them their lunch before meeting her at her work. sitting in the reception, talking to the receptionist (who happened to be her work bestie and wanted all the details), petting the dogs as they left with their owners, giving head scratches to the cats who were in their crates and waiting to be seen. he can always hear her through the close door; always so kind, so sweet, so soft and gentle with every animal she sees and so informative to those who bring their pets in.

-> she never takes her work home with her... but he'll always ask. he loves animals and if there was anything she ever wanted to speak about, especially if she had a bad day or had to deal with something that was really sad and upsetting to her, then he wanted her to be able to talk to him and use him as a shoulder to cry on so she didn't have to deal with it by herself.

-> 'you don't have to ask me.'

-> 'i know but i want to. you ask me about my day, i ask you about yours'

-> both of them are so interested in each other and it's something that starts off slowly.

-> something that they slowly work through; his schedule was always different from day to day whereas her's was always regular and the same everyday. a classic 9 to 5 job with the odd day off for her to use at her leisure.

-> they take their time.

-> they enjoy each other before they become something official. they like to be by themselves. without everyone else knowing about them. sharing the sweetest kisses, cuddling, sneaking around from their friends and family because they just weren't wanting to share each other just yet.

-> and when they've become boyfriend and girlfriend, after a few months have flown by of knowing one another, they slowly introduce the other to their family and then their friends... which arthur was always going to be nervous about. having friends of such a high social media influence, he didn't want her feeling out of place or like she was different to them or that she didn't belong...

-> and his friends never do make her feel that way.

-> fitting in perfectly with everyone... they love her and she loves them and they love having her around in their group nights. they love how she teases arthur like they do yet they can tease her and she knows they're being silly and she doesn't take anything to heart. it's like she's known them for years... especially george (who she ends up being the best of friends with)... and arthur finds it so endearing how they've just welcomed her and how he felt welcomed within her own little group.

-> a coincidence meeting... but the best thing to have ever happened.

#arthurtv #arthurtv headcannons #arthurtv imagines #arthurtv fics #arthurtv x reader

[chuthulhu-reads]

[ID: Three panels from Trigun Maximum. The first shows a young Livio scrubbing tears off his face with clenched hands, his expression almost entirely obscured except for tears coming out of his left eye. The second panel shows a young Wolfwood with a bandage on his left cheek and a chunk of bread in his mouth, the other half of the small baguette held in his hand, which extending beyond the boundaries of the panel in a mild 3D effect. The third panel has his speech bubbles saying, "I'm Nicholas. Here. Eat." End ID.]

So there's this anecdote about Glasgow and Edinburgh (and no doubt plenty of other cities with this particular relationship) that folk in Edinburgh are polite but not nice, and people in Glasgow are nice but not polite. I did once live this experience when taking a train from Edinburgh to Glasgow, needing to use the lift on both ends to get to and from the platforms on my crutches. At the Edinburgh end, I got into the lift, and two people then crammed in their roughly ten million suitcases with me until I was pretty much crushed in the corner, the whole time going "I'm awfy sorry about this, sorry, we're just in such a rush, sorry about this". In the time they spent doing this I probably could've gone down on the lift and sent it back up, without being crushed. On the Glasgow end, I got off the train and got in the queue for the lift behind an old man in a motorized wheelchair. He looked around when it was his turn at the lift, saw men, and shifted aside, saying "'mon hen, you go" and when I went "oh, no, it's fine", as you do, he slapped the arm of his chair and said "take the lift, ye daft cow, am awready sittin'." I was tired as FUCK and in a lot of pain and because I took that lift I made it to the bus stop just in time for that bus, so I'm earnestly grateful to that guy.

All this to say that if they ever dub Trigun in purely UK accents I think Wolfwood should be Glaswegian because there's a bampot reputation but also the way that he's consistently kind and supportive to others even when he's often being a blunt asshole about it.

#Trigun #oh man I just realized #when Livo first met Wolfwood #Wolfwood snapped Livio out of his despair by giving him food #Right after Wolfwood dies #Vash distracts them both from their despair with food #also can't help noticing that it's specifically Livio's left eye that's visible #was this Wolfwood meeting Razlo at the same time as Livio?

[soranihimawari]

Between Sweets & Coffee

Osamu learns how to help a rival next door.

Pairing: chef!osamu x cafe owner! reader

Warning: meet cutes//supposed rivals->lovers

Rating: MOF (miya osamu fluff)

“Maybe going door to door is a bad idea,” you’re on the phone with a benefactor for a new pastry shop. The grand opening is set for later this month with Valentine's Day around the corner. Considering you’re back home in Osaka and after months of trying to work with banks and investors for backing a pastry business in an already diverse culinary community was a bit tiresome, the fliers in your hands are proof that hard work does pay off.

Your co-owner is on the other line so you balance your phone on your shoulder and hear summer last minute pep-talk from them. The words of ‘your desserts are the best! don’t get too self-absorbed because I know your little bakery will do just fine.’

“Not if I’m competing with that hot chef across the street,” you sigh as your stuff fliers in the mailboxes at your apartment complex’s basement level. “Who has a line out the door for his Onigiri h o u r s before they’re open.”

Your friend reassures you you have nothing to worry about. After all, you think it might be time to give the chef across the street a good run for his money. Your friend laughs gently as you exasperatedly say you’re done with the stack. Bidding each other good night and heading home to relax before the grand opening tomorrow was all that remains. Hopefully the turn out will be great. Hopefully. 

Granted, the official opening went as smooth as anyone who runs a business goes. Well, sort of smooth, a few bumps here and there because of the coffee machine not working properly, everyone in the small (six people deep queue) had enough time to drink some homemade drip coffee. Thankfully, these were the neighbors who seemed to have adored your charm and ambitious goals, who also were your first taste testers for those delightful checkerboard cookies that were on a special at the register. Surely there were some stragglers who chose to come in for a fresh cut baguette and fruit jam sandwich with some sinisterly righteous cup of chai tea later that mid-morning, but around two in the afternoon, as you bring out some other pistachio creme dessert, you see an odd sign on the onigiri restaurant across from you. The sign had been flipped to ‘closed’ and you didn’t know if it was just for lunch or why.

Apparently, the answer was right in front of you when you rose from the glass of your dessert display–he was tall, taller than you by like a foot or so, gray silvered hair peppered in with dark roots stare right at you. He has an onigiri embroidered shirt with the kanji of his name underneath it and he folded his arms over his chest. Your cashier just laughs nervously before waving for you to switch tasks at the moment. You lock eyes with the young lady as she scampers off with an empty baking tray to the back of the prep kitchen.

You’re behind the register, noticing the long line now forming behind said ‘hot chef’ from your phone call last night. The menu is next to the register and as you nervously intake a breath, you hear him chuckle a bit. He leans over the small counter space to whisper an, “Easy there dollface,” to you and you try not to lose your cool when you greet him with the spiel you perfected earlier that day.

“Welcome to Winter’s Cafe,” you smile at your first afternoon customer. “Now, what can I get brewing for you?”

The order he makes is a small, modest one: ham and cheese sandwich with a large coffee. He pays and takes his little number card to a table as the rest of the people he brought with him (his entire line cooks and cashiers) begin their orders. The cafe was decked out in a soft orange marble swirl, a paint job you helped design with an interior designer—your shop felt like a soda fountain from a classic Archie Comic he and his brother used to read. Along the walls where accolades would hang, one in particular stands out to Osamu: it’s framed in a shadow box and upon further inspection he notices there’s a whisk inside and next to that? A series of glass knives and cleavers pique his curiosity. He is amused and enthused at how you’re balancing all the hats of an entrepreneur too.

How did Miya Osamu, the ‘hot chef’ get here? Inside your restaurant?

… for that answer let’s go back to this morning when Miya Osamu is preparing his morning notes to give out to his staff. His coffee machine had finally breathed its last, so his cooks prayed their owner and restaurant head chef had some form of caffeine before the doors would open. Regardless, they did not get their wish though Osamu had gotten more than halfway through his notes as a reminder for the FIFO labels then he mentioned he’s closing the store earlier than normal today. It was not inspection time nor was it inventory night, as pointed out by his second lead cooks.

“There is a new cafe openin’ right ‘cross from us,” Osamu rubs his temples with a slight frown. He feigns doing just fine when he drinks his water from the glass he used earlier after prep was done. “We might lose some customers, so I figure we close early an’ see what these competitors be makin’.”

“Hai.”

The collective agreement caused your little cafe tables inside to be occupied a few hours later. As quickly as those orders came in, the first few batches of orders came out. You’re busy handing over the reigns of the register to your cashier as you read the first couple of orders aloud more so to yourself as you prepare the sandwiches amidst the sweet rolls being warmed and plated.

It is painfully obvious for a young entrepreneur to stand where you once stood as you flutter by dropping off orders left right and center. You’re efficient as all hell and when Osamu, your self-thought rival across the way, takes a bite into his sandwich, he’s immediately reminded of how his mother used to make these sometimes when he was four. The food is good, nostalgic even, as he sees his other employees unabashedly enjoy the plates you made, from the savory to the sublimely sweet. You’re only stopped a few times for his cooks to rave about your pistachio and chocolate-hazelnut croissants or your chai lattes. You bow saying how next time you’re thinking of making them into European dragons. The way his cooks’ eyes light up as if they’d order a whole half dozen has Osamu smiling into his cup. He might have to ask you to sneak some for him.

A steadier flow of customers come an hour or so later and though there are no bussers yet hired, Osamu on blind faith and a great cup of coffee now in his system, starts collecting all the dishes he and his employees had used. He doesn’t seem to be stopped by you, who now with an upturned smirk, tells him where the dish pit was in the back of the kitchen. His second and third cooks start cleaning the rest of the tables they had previously sat in as a silent, ‘thank you for the meal’ to you and your scrumptious food. Pretty soon, it was time to close your doors as well as you sit with your cashier at the booth at the end of the dessert case. You’re tallying up the first day’s riches around six in the afternoon before giving her a four percent cut of the total gross sales. It’s enough yen for her to finish paying off her culinary school semester.

“I’m going to need a really strong pastry intern this year, what do you say?” you offer as the cashier hugs you profusely thanking you for the opportunity. She goes and turns in her little time card to you for filing purposes; she exits with her bag slung over her shoulder whistling a happier tune when you catch a glimpse of her cousin waiting for her at the street corner by the combini store. 

Considering how quiet the restaurant had become, Osamu comes out of the kitchen swinging doors, drying his hands and you, not realizing he was still there, you scream at his presence.

“Ack!! You’re still here!?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles as he sees you try to breathe normally. “Seemed like you needed a dishwasher tonight.”

He apologizes for giving you a fright, but you shake your head offering him a seat next to you.

“Well, it was the grand opening and I only had one cashier show up… did you put away everything where I can reach?”

Cloud gray eyes stare curiously at you as he ponders, he tells you to hold that thought as you hear some equipment making it to the prep table in the back. You laugh to yourself amused when he comes back out to talk for a little while. You’re going over the numbers of the day and it’s then that you deflate a bit after you sign and date the restaurant book. 

“And what about the other cooks?” he sees ‘hire sous’ on your to-do list. “Don’t ya have any?” 

“Believe it or not, it’s just me,” you smile. “These are family recipes I perfected before trying to commercialize them, so no. No other cooks until I can afford them. I’m practically broke even after this grand opening business.”

You half smile at the taller guy to your right, thanking him for telling his friends to come over to give you that afternoon boost. You curl a hand under your chin and look at the shadow box whisk.

“Want to hear how I got that whisk?”

And so you ramble off on a story of how your first culinary teacher was your elementary school’s lunch lady. When the lady retired when you were nineteen about to go off into the university of your choice, you were handed the whisk with the advice of, “even whipping cream needs a little time to breathe.” You confide in your unofficial dishwasher that for the life of you now you can’t tell if the lady was really sage or old age made her say some funky stuff.

It’s then when Osamu begins to take notice at how you look: you’ve got some dark circles forming under your eyes, your jeans looked well loved, but almost tattered, your best looking shirt is covered in ganache from this morning, and the dirt under your nails came from using the citrus zester for the lemon meringue cookies from two hours ago. You’re exhausted, probably by now, considering how creased your shoes are and for someone who just moved to Osaka, you looked..proud. Proud, according to his mother, is what she was of both of her children. Osamu is proud to be a chef just as much as his twin is proud of continuing to play volleyball. 

“I know ya might think this is a bit too forward o’ me, but,” Osamu straightens up and turns a quarter of the way to shake your hand. “The name’s Miya Osamu.”

Taking his hand with a curt scoff before a more natural smile takes over your gorgeous face, “YLN,YN.”

He’s still holding your hand after you have shaken it, an idea bursts in his head. “Hey, YN, I know ya just got off yer shift, but would ya like to come over to my place for dinner? I heard there’s this onigiri guy across the street that makes some of the best in the city.”

You glance over his shoulder, read the neon lights of the name of the restaurant, then glance back at the eyes of the young man in front of you. You seemed to be the same age, yet you can’t for the life of you help what the masters of the red string of fate had pulled to get you and Osamu together like this. You’re smiling a bit though before you cheekily inquire if he’s asking as, “Miya Osamu,” or if he’s asking you as “Onigiri owner and head chef, Miya Osamu.” Both of which, you clarify, you do not mind, stating that for now, you’re only interested in simply Miya Osamu. 

So, if you ever find yourself in the city of Osaka late in the afternoon, be sure you stop by Miya Onigiri if you’re looking for the best onigiri in town or take a break right across the street at Winter’s Cafe, where the cakes this season are literally a love story waiting to begin.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #miya.o & reader #friends > lovers: miya osamu x yn #meet cute ideas with osamu

[yesjuclz]

            standing behind the curtain of the stage, 𝐉𝐔𝐄𝐋𝐙 awaited her turn to come out and perform her part of the song once her best friend was ready for her. getting herself hyped up, the female made her entrance onto the stage once her queue was signaled. “top notch bitch, i’m a listed, this city girl shit, can’t flex like this! old country ass bitch can’t dress like this, bye, do it on the dick and a bitch!” she rapped, bending her body down into a crouching position as she pointed at the crowd, her adrenaline pulsing through her body with each word as the liquor finally kicked in. standing up, she turned around showing her back-side as she began to clap her ass cheeks together.

             “clap this ass on that dick, i’ma spazz on that dick! go to sleep, take a nap, i'ma crash on that dick! i won’t beg for no dick, i won’t cry for no dick, if your dick broke, nigga, put a cast on that dick!” she semi-yelled into the microphone, turning her body back around to be face to face with her peers once again. walking towards 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘, she placed her arm on the female’s shoulder as she rapped the remembered words. “rich with an attitude, R.W.A! bitch i got kids i know how you hoes play! ice cube, peanut pussy, eat it, soufflé! these hoes my sons i should call them o’shea!” knowing her verse was almost over, 𝐉𝐔𝐄𝐋𝐙 placed her glasses back over her face as she held up her middle finger, “fuckboys, i ain’t pressed for ‘em!” she recited, waving her hand in the air to imitate dismissal, “i need a nigga with a patek and a TEC on him!” lifting her arm up, the female flashed the studded out watch that she was sporting, “big dick, chrome hearts and baguettes on him, if he got the bread? i’ma do the rest for ‘em, period!” she swiped her hand under her chin before flipping her hair over her shoulder once the song came to an end. @arcieris​

#imagination? use it! #. ✦ . ˚ .𝐘𝐄𝐒𝐉𝐔𝐂𝐋𝐙 ˗ˏˋ misc. ˎˊ˗

[allovertheworldblog]

New Caledonia - New where?

When I was in a hostel in New Zealand there was an older traveler who started talking about the French Pacific island of New Caledonia.

I think somewhere in the back of mind I’d heard about it before, along with New Britain and New Ireland.

The older traveler said as schoolkids some Kiwis would travel to New Caledonia to practice their French instead of venturing all the way to metropolitan France. 

Maybe I should explain to you where New Caledonia is, well as I said it’s in the Pacific Ocean, the south Pacific.

If you follow a line out east in the Pacific from Brisbane, halfway down the eastern side of Australia then you’re sure to bump into New Caledonia after a couple of hours.

To get to New Caledonia I flew from Sydney.

Not wanting to get up too early for my super early flight I spend the night in the airport, an experience I can’t recommend.

Bizarrely the airport shuts down at night, totally closes down, they shut the doors and everything.

The speaker system keeps going through the night though, advertising all sorts and playing songs.

The speakers seem louder as the airport empties out as there’s nothing for them to compete with. 

The people overnighting in the airport were herded to an area with some soft backed chairs and our passports were checked by an ignorant Australian. 

After about three hours sleep I was ready for my flight to New Caledonia, not really knowing what to expect. 

The almost full Quantas flight is eventful.

The Quantas staff can’t speak French and when any of the mostly French passengers ask them anything they speak to them loudly in English hoping that they’ll get some kind of message across. 

As we come in to land we pass over turquoise shallows in the ocean.

I change some money in the airport and catch the public bus to the capital of Noumea, 41km away, which costs 400 Pacifc Francs.

I could have taken a door to door shuttle but that would have cost 50,000 Pacific Francs. 

The only trouble is I don’t know which door I’m going to.

A lady on couchsurfing.org had said she’d be happy to have me stay for a couple of nights, but never gets back to me with any contact details.

Instead I head for the hostel, the only one on the whole island.

It’s run along military lines with a cupboard for everyone in the kitchen (with a lock) and a cupboard in the walk-in cold room (also with a lock). In the 4-bed dorm rooms there’s another cupboard (also with a lock), what kind of people do they have staying here?!

It’s a Saturdy afternoon and the town (not really a city) is quiet and there’s not much open.

There seems to be a preponderance of optical stores and clothes shops, ah the French. 

I find a sort of supermarket open, it sells a funny mix of things: child sized statues of the Holy Family covered in clingfilm; haircare products and a couple of aisles of mainly tinned and packaged foods.

Yet everyone in the queue to pay has an small armful of stuff as they hand notes to the sales assistant who manages to stuff them in the overfull cash register. 

I buy some tinned ravioli there and some baguettes from the only bread shop I can find that’s open.

I have to make these ingredients do for the following day as well as there’s less open on Sunday than there was on Saturday. 

I enjoy some of the bottle of French wine that I’d bought at the airport as the sale of all alcohol products is banned in shops and supermarkets from noon Friday to midnight Sunday.

This is to counter the social problems that New Caledonia suffers from relating the abuse of alcohol.

Yes, New Caledonia might prove to be difficult.  

#travel #culture

[toastsnaffler]

cons of shopping at the lidl 5 mins from the uni campus: gets swarmed w students (ew) on weekdays so its busy as fuck + queues are 20 mins long + they sell out of essentials fast

pros of shopping at the lidl 5 mins from the uni campus: cashiers are too busy to give a fuck and approve checkout weights without looking when the machines complain so now I have a fancy baguette and 2 pain au chocolat for free :3

#.diaries #its the little things <3

[lostxcloud]

2023 Snowboarding Trip

Day 5: Dude, where's the snow?

So the day started with all my siblings slowly getting up and getting cereal. I elected to hide away at the back of the van until there was some space.

My dad and I went out and repaired my board. And then the team left for their morning of snowboarding, whilst I hung back with a busy working mum, to organise my route today.

I set off after team Friendship and headed in the opposite direction to them (well, we both went down the mountain but they traversed over to the right of the map and I headed over to the left. I went up the cable car (twice) and on my second ride down I went via a gorgeous path with fantastic views of the snowy valley.

Unfortunately this eventually gave way to a zone with melty snow and grass and twigs peeking out through the cover. I made it down then returned to the base camp, having ridden about 9km. I had some lunch and checked in on mum, and received news that team Friendship had managed to get burgers today.

I rested a little, then headed out over to Plagne Bellacotte, repeating my main run from yesterday, managing to get 15km done on my snowboard.

The queues at the lifts near closing time were colossal meaning that I managed to meet up with Team Friendship at the top of the lift, as we'd ended up getting funnelled quite close together.

We all rode in together started the shower and refilling gauntlet. I ended up with a chilly shower, but that's alright.

With the tank full, the waste water empty, and the snowgear away, we all sprawled out inside. The older of my little brothers went to call his girlfriend (and sneak a crêpe this fine pancake day). The rest of my siblings lost at cards to my mother.

Dad started dinner, which was extraordinarily impressive given the motorhome's small facilities. Fajitas (the chicken prepared earlier by my mother), potato chunks (like patatas bravas), and I think a little cheesey baguette for my sister.

After dinner, and the washing up disco, we settled around the table to watch dad's 360⁰ camera footage of the whole group.

It's currently around 20 to 11pm, so I doubt we'll be up much longer. I just know that my brothers and dad are hoping for snow.

Today's snap of the day is:

The nonsense queues at the lifts from 4pm (one hour before last runs)

#2023 snowboarding trip

[shatlass]

Okay new Ryan Reynolds idea. He’s like the twin brother of that shusher in anti-social network. The gang are out walking or sumn and someone says “oh my god, he’s back” and Mac launches himself at him him thinking he’s defending Paddy’s. It’s a meet-cute so Mac helps him pick up his bag of spilled oranges and baguettes. Queue title card: Mac gets a boyfriend. Queue Temptation Sensation.

#this is all bc the first time i watched tasn i legitimately thought it was him pre-wrexham fc and everything #also this is in reference to this one college humour vid from s few years ago called meet cute or sumn #maybe i’ll write some of this stupid ass shit while im still manic enough to think it’s a good idea #sunny #my post

[serenn]

5 Best Bakeries In KL & PJ To Head To For Fresh Bread, Pastries, And Cakes

Nothing beats biting into a fresh pastry and then licking the crumbly bits off your fingers. Fresh-baked bread and pastries appear to be all the rage right now; perhaps we all need some baked goodness to soothe our souls in the midst of this overwhelming pandemic.

Jelutong Hills Bakers

The top temptations at Jelutong Hills Bakers go beyond bread and butter, with hearty meals like sourdough toast layered with meltingly tender smoked pulled lamb with caramelised onions (RM28; with fries on the side for a full day's worth of carbs) and crispy-fried chicken and scrambled eggs heaped in waffles with maple hollandaise sauce (RM28; with fries on the side for a full day's worth of carbs) (RM30). Check out the counter for tenderly cakey scones, buns, and rolls if you're curious about the ovens here.

2. Universal Bakehouse

Don't be fooled by the cryptic signage (hand-painted by a 71-year-old painter!) - Universal Bakehouse may appear to be an unassuming store from the outside, but the aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries will hit you the moment you walk in!

The bakehouse is proud of their artisan sourdough bread, which is made fresh daily with love and is best paired with a simple slab of butter and a sprinkle of sea salt. Apple pie, chocolate cookies, and curry potato pastry are also popular. Seating is limited here, but the staff is always cheerful and friendly!

3. Dou Dou Bake

Dou Dou Bake is the new kid on the block and the most talked-about designer bakery of 2020. In a calming ambiance with a minimalistic charm and raw aesthetic, enjoy freshly baked goodness and fragrant coffee.

Warning: while the bakery opens at 7:30AM, queues begin as early as 6:30AM, and if you're late, you may find yourself waiting in line for 1 to 2 hours before getting a table. We've heard the wait is totally worth it, so get some sleep and get there before the sun comes out!

4. Michelle Young Cakes & Desserts

This new bakery in Bukit Jalil may be the most beautiful in town! Michelle Young Cakes & Desserts has the appearance of an English tea house and will greet you with the aroma of warm fresh-out-of-the-oven bread and cookies the moment you walk in.

Michelle Young, a passionate home baker who began with an online bakeshop before realising her dream of opening her own bakery cafe, owns the bakery. While dine-in is not yet permitted during these difficult times, you can stop by for some freshly baked goods to go or order them for delivery! Aside from baked goods, you can also get hot chocolate, snowy oolong tea, and strawberry milk matcha here.

5. Croisserie Artisan Bakery

Croisserie Artisan Bakery is said to serve the best, most fluffy croissants in KL. This neighbourhood bakery is an underappreciated gem with a steady stream of loyal customers who return for their consistently delicious pastries, cakes, and bread.

All of the baked goods here are made in small batches daily using only the finest ingredients and authentic baking techniques. Aside from their famous croissants, some must-try star products include their pain au chocolat, baguettes, quiches, and canelés! With plenty of indoor and outdoor seating, this is a great place to reconnect with long-lost friends over delicious pastries.

#bakery #malaysia

[mainsdotcom]

Cookie jam levels wiki

COOKIE JAM LEVELS WIKI UPGRADE

Like with all manufacturing buildings only 1 item is made per queue slot. It had the functionality of a cooking table. It cannot be obtained through normal means and has little use other than being collectible and rare. The legacy food processor is an older version of the food processor. When ingredients are inserted, it will craft the selected item in the menu. The choice is up to the favour of the player. The food processor is an industrial machine used to automatically make food items. Given the fact that there are few upgrades that require these high level baked goods, it may be more viable for some to buy these few goods with Crystals instead.

COOKIE JAM LEVELS WIKI UPGRADE

So long as you do not run into various upgrades requiring high level baked goods it is advisable to not upgrade the Bakery to level 4 and above and build up stable storage first before unlocking these levels at all. Going to level 3 is also relatively safe though offers little in additional benefits versus needing to do more storage management. Upgrading the building to level 2 to craft Tart Jampie should pose no issues with production time or storage. The Hearty Rye is the most important item you can make here for a long time. There are also a few upgrades that require various baked goods. It is the fourth manufacturing building you get and its goods are used in various recipes from other buildings. Goods from the Bakery are are stored in stacks of 20. The first Bakery is available to be build upon upgrading the Cookie Castle to level 3, a second becomes available from the Build list for Buildings upon reaching Cookie Castle level 7. The Bakery is a building for producing various types of baked goods. Skill Powder can also be acquired from the Medal Shop, Trading Port/ Seaside Market, Rainbow Shell Gallery, and specific World Exploration stages.This bakery's baguette chimney looks and smells so delicious, Cookies from all over the land arrive right on time for fresh bread straight out of the oven! The most efficient way to acquire Skill Powder is through completing Today's Bounties. It began on January 21st, 2021 to coincide with the release of Cookie Run: Kingdom. It is an event where players can try a recreation of Cookie Run: Kingdom. For instance, if one were to increase the Skill Level of Rye Cookie, a Ranged Cookie, from Lv.29 to Lv.30, they they would need 5 Refined Ranged Powder and 7,400 Coins. Protect the Kingdom is a promotional event in Cookie Run: OvenBreak. The Powder must match the Class of the chosen Cookie, with each Class having their own varieties of standard, Refined, and Pristine Powder. Skill Levels 1-20 require standard Powder, 21-40 require Refined Powder, and 41-60 require Pristine Powder. The amount of Skill Powder needed to enhance a Skill Level depends on both the current Skill Level and the Class of the Cookie. 10, then their Skill Level can only be raised up to Lv. However, a Cookie's Skill Level value cannot exceed their Cookie Level value thus, a Cookie's Level has to be increased before its Skill Level can also be increased. Raising this Skill Level increases the effectiveness of the Skill by improving one or more of its specific numerical stats. Skills range in utility from being offensive to defensive, as many Skills have effects such as healing, Buffs for teammates, Debuffs for enemies, and so on.Ī Cookie's Skill has its own dedicated Level, requiring Coins and Skill Powder to raise. Thus, increasing a Cookie's Level becomes more difficult at higher levels, plateauing at levels 50-60.Īt launch, the maximum Level any Cookie could reach was Level 50, though this has since been raised to Level 70.Ī Cookie's Skill is their unique special combat ability-specifically, an action that can only be performed when its cooldown is cleared. However, as a Cookie's Level raises higher, the required Experience Points to gain more levels increases as well. The amount of Experience Points given by a Star Jelly depends on the Jelly's Level, with these levels ranging from 1 to 8, and their respective given Experience increasing exponentially at higher levels. Cookie Houses are the most reliable source of EXP Star Jellies for a player, altough almost every feature and game mode will also reward them" the Fountain of Abundance, World Exploration, the Tower of Sweet Chaos, Kingdom Pass Landmarks, shops such as the Medal Shop or Mileage Exchange, and more. While most modes will grant a small amount of these, the most efficient method of leveling up a Cookie is through feeding them EXP Star Jellies. Leveling up is the most effective method of increasing a Cookie's Power Level, improving their overall effectiveness in combat gameplay.įor a Cookie to level up, they must gain Experience Points.

#Cookie jam levels wiki

[theworldisyourlobster]

Chateau Rouge

I walk around the markets inside the 18th. Markets  with stalls stakes with fruit I cannot name, vegetables I’ve never seen, fish eyes look at me from the ice they lay on, I notice sheep’s intestines in glass cases, a delicacy to some which I mistake for fur. I walk past marbled plastic kettles hanging on strings. Why buy a plastic kettle?

I learn are used to cleanse before entering the mosque. A researcher keeps then in her kitchen as decoration, loving their garish colours It’s the end of the green bean, a french colloquialism for the end of the world. I drink at a bar where everyone kisses to great because it’s chic and we are in Paris. I hear someone say ‘I love that but it’s panic inducing. ‘.I meet botoxed lipglossed girls who grew up on the same street as me. 

Flashes of a man wanting to photograph you flashing with his flash on. The door man  was called sexy and he really was sexy because he was hot but also let us in without a queue. Black curtains in a fishtank. We dance and smoke inside and sit in the dark. 

The dj took us around the world in 6 hours while getting with her possessive girlfriend and enjoying her cigarettes for show in hopes of being a bad ass. 

We sit in the egg cups that function as benches in every metro stop. We get off at Chateau Rouge. V says the room is spinning as we fall asleep. 

Builders wake us up, they are planting trees outside. Someone's mum is in the living room doing yoga. She tells us about the angel healing class she is about to run. Feeling the effects of the night, it's about to go bad bad so we leave the house. Instant confusion. Garresol is a big charity shop, sometimes you find something with a brand on the tag, and sometimes it's just a stain.

I buy a Medium diet coke from Mcdonald's, I like the way it tastes with the ice. I like the straw. Here they don't have straws, instead a paper sippy cup lid. I try not to let it ruin my day. We climb up to the Sacre Coeur, it's hot. Walking through the sacred heart of Paris, a house of God lined with 21st-century donation boxes... they now use contactless, pay for his love, repent your sins. We cant judge as we are only there for the gift shop.. I like their 2 euro chains, and the silver pendents with hearts alight are cute. A dry baguette on the way home.

[siodium]

(deadpan) hello welcome to subway what can i getcha

i finally got around to editing the photos that i took when i visited the subway museum two weeks ago

found out about the museum through some featured blog post i think?? and i thought it was pretty cool that they had interactive zones and games?? after all museums are usually just a Look But No Touch kind of deal so anything different would be intriguing

but the promise of a Fun Time didn’t completely sell me the idea of going uNTIL i saw the glorious definitely-not-a-footlong subway sandwich plush in their merch section and i knew i had to acquire one for myself

yeahhh something about fast food merch rly appeals to me :// can’t help it

anyway i didn’t wanna go alone so i got G to come with (and conveniently the subway museum was close to the national museum so we could go back to see the exhibition we missed the last time)

in order to get a pair of tickets for the museum we had to spend at least $20 in a single receipt at subway and that was ez game bc G can eat a footlong by himself

usually i’d order just a sandwich but my adventurous spirit prompted me to also get the broccoli and cheese soup

it was mega salty tho :-( curiosity gave me hypertension

.

.

.

i have no idea what this building was meant for before they had the subway museum pop-up

i also was not aware that subway had a chara mascot?? baguette boi

when you first enter the museum you get to do a quiz to learn some neat facts about subway

ngl some of the correct answers were kinda sus to me?? like did you know that the tuna sub is the most popular (can’t rmb if it was worldwide or just in sg)?? i’m the only person i know that orders tuna?? what

the next section was prob my fav bc THERE WAS AN ACTUAL SUBWAY COUNTER FOR PHOTO OPS!!!

too bad they didn’t have fake ingredients to go with the set but i think the kids would have a field day with any loose pieces so maybe it was a good decision not to have any

the lighting isn’t exactly the most flattering and i look like i’m ded inside (honestly?? exuding the perfect amount of energy for a Tired™ f&b staff) bUT I KINDA WANNA MAKE THESE MY LINKEDIN PROFILE PICS LMAO

for some reason there’s a room dedicated to food panda?? the inside was just a stark contrast to the rest of the exhibition

the whole room was bathed in pinkness in an aesthetic kind of way

also reminds me of a game with a black and white bear hmmm

everyone gets a free try at the UFO catcher!! i won a sticker sheet lol

i want to stick the GOT CHA! one on cha

minigames were stationed all around the place and completing each game gives you different subway ingredients (like sauces and breads and meats and veggies)

at the end of the exhibition you can assemble your own custom subway combination with whatever ingredients you collected

on the left is the squeeze-the-sauce game and on the right is the slap-the-dough game

and holy shit i was not expecting a workout session?? my arms were so achy after smacking the buttons and squeezing tubes

there was also a spot-the-difference type of game for meats (i quite like that one bc it’s the least physically exhausting) and a fruit ninja type of game for the veggies

i didn’t know that you had to replay the games to collect all the ingredients bc the rewards were random :-( rnjesus did not give me tuna

ended up picking some ham type of meat and named my subway combination after chi

too bad chi just missed the sebun but wow that’s a lot of sandwiches made

i wanted to continue conquering the minigames to see if i can collect all the ingredients but that plan was scrapped pretty quickly when we saw how crowded the place was getting and how long the queues for the games were

so!! i decided to take another walk around the museum except this time chi and cha will be out to play too~

someone thought chi and cha were part of the display and started taking photos immediately after i left the scene askdkdsalds

idk if i should’ve said anything?? like maybe they just wanted to take a pic of the set bUT they were specifically taking close-ups where chi and cha were so?? i just let them?? chi and cha are cute so why not right??

the final stop: subway exclusive merch store ✨

TARGET ACQUIRED YAY!! it’s my new chair buddy along with my mos burger blanket heheh i’m abusing it well

got a free chocolate chip cookie and coke too~

gonna end the post here!! we went to the off/on exhibition at the national museum next and i took some photos but aaaaa laze!!!! the laziness has me in a chokehold!!!!

anyway if i get around to editing the rest of the pics from that day you will see them...... in due time

#log #august is the month for museum trips i don't make the rules

[asp1990]

Day 7: Wednesday June 29th, 2022 [LONDON]

Breakfast: Pain au chocolat, latte and orange juice Lunch: chicken baguette and a rose Dinner: Japanese share plates at Apothecary

Steps: 7, 279

Today was our last day in Paris, but our Eurostar train departed at 1.15pm, so it was pretty much just time to pack up, clean, have brekky and walk to the station. I had done most of my packing the night before, so read my book while the others packed and then did a quick vacuum while Tim cleaned the bathroom and Amara took out the bins.

We had brunch at the brasserie on the corner of our street and the waitress hated us from the get-go for speaking in English. Tim asked if she spoke English immediately and she said yes, but was then short with us every time she brought something to the table. We had coffee, croissants and OJ. While I’ve loved living my best pastry life in Paris, I’m looking forward to more traditional breakfasts in London.

I wanted to get an Uber to the train station, but Amara wanted to walk, so we walked. Dragging two suitcases over uneven ground and cobblestones for 20 minutes was a fresh hell and we were all grouchy, hot, and sweaty by the time we arrived. We went through customs and border security and, like every other time I’ve travelled, my passport didn’t work in the machines, so I had to go to the desks while Tim and Amara sailed through. Once in, we bought some sandwiches and wine for the train and then sat down to wait for half an hour.

We boarded the train at 12.50pm and it was absolute chaos. The escalators down to the platform were broken, so some people were taking the stairs while carrying suitcases and others were taking a punt on the stopped escalator. We chose the escalator as my luggage was too heavy to carry safely. We got onto the train and people were in our seats. Once they moved, we sat down, and all popped our headphones in for the duration of the trip. I read a good chunk of my book club book, Amara watched Downtown Abbey and Tim slept.

The train took just under 3 hours, and we were finally in London! There was absolutely zero border control at the other end, and we sailed through to the taxi rank. The queue was long, so I booked an Uber instead. Yosef picked us up 10 minutes later, despite us being on the wrong side of the terminal and drove us 35 minutes to our accommodation.

Amara messaged the venue to say we’d arrived, and a man came out to meet us. He scanned Amara’s passport and then asked us to leave a 500£ cash deposit in case we damaged anything… we all said that wasn’t going to happen as it wasn’t in our booking confirmation. Amara had 200£ in her wallet so said that was all we had, so he said that was fine and then she was upset that we’d left all her spending money with the shady man.

We came upstairs to a beautiful two-bedroom apartment with a large kitchen/living area and a functioning washing machine. The cleaner was still there, so we sat awkwardly for 15 minutes until he left. We then napped for an hour before showering and heading out to Shoreditch to have dinner with one of Amara’s friends. Our booking was at 6.45pm and I tried to book an Uber at 6.30pm, but no one accepted my request, so we took the bus instead. This was way easier. Busses will be how we get around London from now on. Amara was a bit cranky on the way there because maps mucked her around and she snapped at me, but I snapped back and that was that.

We had dinner at a Japanese place called Apothecary which was a beautiful building with a modern Japanese menu. We met Amara’s friend Emily who had been living in London for 3 years with her partner. We ordered a bottle of wine and a few share plates and mostly listened to Emily and Amara catch up. Our food came out at random intervals, but some parts were missing. We chased this up with our waitress 3 times, but they never came. The maître de then came to check on us and apologised for the delay, but 2 dishes still never arrived. The food we did receive was delicious – kimchi fried rice, chicken skewers, fried chicken bao, karaage, sushi and edamame. After waiting 30 mins for our last 2 dishes, we asked for the bill and received a discount for the inconvenience. Emily also had a discount voucher, which made it even cheaper – woohoo! We walked a block down to a pub for one more drink where we talked about good shows to see on the West End before heading home.

We caught the bus home, made a quick stop at the supermarket and then Tim and I watched TV while I wrote my diary and Amara went to bed.

We’re going to see our first show tomorrow on the West End – can’t wait! 

[baguetteavocat]

Soooo

I’m posting that infirmary fic tomorrow morning. There’s gonna be three/four parts, probably. At least two. I’m already working on the second.

I just kinda wrote it, so don’t be too hard on it lol. I might post it on AO3 if I get good feedback. Who knows.

#my post #baguette talks #fanfiction #pjo/hoo/toa #infirmary fic #solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #oops #i dunno i felt like i needed more tags #its in my queue #so #yeah #ten am tomorrow #yup #get ready bros

[sandsorghum]

Damned/Sweet/Time

NanaNov Appreciation Month 4/4

Final Nanamin drabble for the month, for the man I love

Find the others here: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Snapshots of a life to be

Word count: 900+ Genre(s): Fluff/Domestic bliss Phenomenal art by hercaptain

Nanami Kento takes exactly 37 minutes to get ready for his day, that is, if you don’t distract him. If he successfully resists your whines at his warmth leaving your side, he has 7 minutes for ablutions, 20 to get dressed, and the remaining reserved for a quick cup of coffee.

It used to take him half an hour. You aren’t aware of this, but since you started staying overnight, he’s budgeted 5 whole extra minutes for morning smooches and cuddles with you, so he can see you wake up with a smile at his uncharacteristically unruly bed head, and at the most unguarded, peaceful version of him. You’ve never had to wake up to an empty bed. These days, he rarely leaves the house without you waving to him from the doorway.

///

On the subway, Nanami Kento is the paragon of a man who is professional, immaculate and…impatient. The rush hour commuters, and indeed, even his co-workers, would only know him by the first two traits, but as his partner, you’re intimately and fondly familiar with this third quirk. It shows up when he discovers a faded stain on the tie set aside for Tuesday, and has to swap it out at the last minute (now he’s only got time for the half-Windsor knot, instead of his preferred full.)

Or when he gets a call from Gojo informing him he’ll be late, cause he was sidetracked by some fantastic smelling taiyaki, does he want some? No? Just tell him the address for next time?

Or when the kettle’s taking too long to boil, and he’s pacing back and forth, getting the grounds, filter paper and a mug. You wonder if he can switch his impatience off, because it seems to dissipate when you shuffle into the kitchen with a yawn, and brush against him to check the toaster. He pulls you in on your way past, doesn’t care you might crease his suit, gives you a morning kiss (which you think ought to be mandatory, if you could just get your sleep cycle under control. He makes getting out of bed earlier seem worth it somehow.)

Nanami will ask if you want a cup of coffee. You remind him he doesn’t have the time.

“I always do, for you.”

On such mornings, you think you’ll probably have to skip the sugar with your coffee. Your teeth would rot otherwise. So yes, with all evidence to the contrary, Nanami Kento has reservoirs of impatience for just about everything and everyone, maybe himself included. You think it’s surprising since he did take his own damn sweet time to ask you out. A couple of years, in fact.

For a long time, you don’t know why he delayed this, you’d probably have agreed to a date the first week you met him. But you yourself were too shy to initiate or ask him yourself, during those years when it seemed he would never be anything more than the strait-laced, stern (albeit sexy) colleague who was strictly dedicated to his career, whom you happened to have a massive crush on.

You feel the same way now, dancing around the question, Kento, we could have had this sooner, I wish you’d told me earlier…

Why didn’t you?

But the urgency of your curiosity has its edges frayed when he smiles just for you, kisses your hand quick in public when he thinks no one’s looking, picks ups multigrain bagels from your favourite bakery and declares one day he’ll crack the recipe to make a superior batch so you don’t have to travel 40 minutes from your office when the cravings strike…It doesn’t matter, you’re in love and it’s probably too soon to interrogate the origins of such sentiments, this early into a relationship.

///

Nanami Kento is in a queue, and he thinks it’s too late.

It’s too late to ditch his basket of baguettes and bagels, screw the line and the surprise and just go home to you with the velvet box alone, just ask you directly. Nanami sighs, looking at his watch five minutes after he last checked.

He might as well do it properly, he’s been planning it the past few months, though he's known for much longer. Because the truth is, Nanami Kento thinks he waited too long, he wants to make up for lost time.

Even if he doesn’t have to think too far back about when that first date was, or how it was punctured with awkward silences before thankfully devolving into a philosophical argument about whether doughnuts qualified as bread:

It’s fried, not baked.

But there’s yeast, the proof! I will die on this hill Nanami.

Even if he had to admit (to himself and absolutely no one else) that he had capitulated to Gojo’s thinly-veiled insinuations of Heeeyyy you’re gorgeous and single so am I, what a coincidence! What are you doing Friday night and how those had worked wonders as a final trigger for him to intervene and save you from the smug schemer’s advances.

Even if his first taste of you was a tangle of copper and salt, iron and honey, reminding him how the cruelty of the world inevitably alchemized his own selfishness, and still he begged to hear your voice, craving your wavering rejection, but he was denied this instead with gasps pledging pleasure, promising him you could be selfish too

Nanami Kento needs to make up for lost time, so he’ll ask to spend all of it, share whatever remains of his hours, with you.

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