#Felix and Elliott

[angstyaches]

Augusnippets Day 23

Prompt: Massage, requested by @writing-whump

OCs: Elliott and Felix

Word Count: 497

CW: vampire whump, supernatural abilities, loss of control, anxiety.

___

“Oh, gosh, what was that?” 

Elliott cleared his throat and glanced towards Felix as though he were surprised. “What was what, boo?” 

A sulk played on Felix’s lips. He kept his eyes trained on Elliott’s face, but reached across the duvet to take Elliott’s right hand in both of his.  

“Darling, do not play coy with me. Your arm disappeared,” Felix said incredulously, gliding gentle fingers up Elliott’s arm, “all the way up to your elbow.” 

“It did not,” Elliott half-chuckled. “It turned into a swarm of incorporeal bats.” 

“Did you intend for your entire forearm to dissipate into a swarm of gosh-darned ghost bats for no apparent reason?” 

Elliott had been dead set on downplaying the whole thing, to keep Felix from getting worked up and anxious right as he was supposed to start getting some sleep, but the light touches to the soft underside of his arm sent tingles through Elliott’s skin and down into his muscles, loosening a tension in his core that he hadn’t even registered.  

“Not exactly, no.” 

Felix looked up at him now, with wide eyes full of concern. “Has it been getting progressively worse?” 

An amused smile rose to Elliott’s lips. He sank further onto the bed, careful not to shake his arm free of Felix’s hands. “It’s not a sickness, Fee. Not some... unknown affliction. It’s my ability, and it’s new, and I just need more time to learn to control it.” 

“Well, that’s all fine and dandy,” Felix muttered. He clutched Elliott’s forearm with both hands now, clutching as though he could keep it from transforming again. He began working his fingertips into the flesh, perhaps to try to displace some of his anxiety. “But you must understand that it is distressing, to say the least, when parts of you begin disappearing before my very eyes.” 

“Technically, not disappearing,” Elliott corrected him again. 

“Technicalities and ghost bats aside, darling, I am voicing my worries! Specifically, my worry that you don’t worry enough about yourself –” 

“Why would I worry?” Elliott reached across his own torso with his left hand, his free one, and placed a hand on the top of Felix’s head. Felix grunted, and then moaned softly as Elliott ruffled his mint-green hair. “When I have you worrying enough for the both of us, and then some?” 

Felix pulled an adorable little scowl. His fingers continued to press on his arm, moving in little spirals that felt as though they were rousing nerve endings that had been sleeping forever. Elliott’s arm suddenly felt very much like his arm, and it concerned him that he could have previously felt otherwise. 

“Mmm. Jesus,” Elliott sighed, letting his left arm drop again and relaxing against his pillow. “That feels incredible, Fee.” 

“This?” Felix pointedly pressed a little harder. 

“Yes.” 

“Is your arm hurting?” 

Elliott shook his head. “When you are training to become incorporeal, it’s nice to be... reassured that you are, in fact...” 

“Corporeal?” 

“Real,” Elliott whispered. “This feels real.” 

___

@augusnippets

[wormswurld]

songs i associate with cattonquick 🌟

so i am absolutely obsessed w cattonquick (obviously) so here's some songs i associate with them & my favorite lyrics that go with it! i hope ya'll enjoy cuz this satlburn brainrot is REAL.

"flames so hot that they turn blue palms reflecting in your eyes, like an endless summer that's the way i feel for you"

"loving me is all you need to feel like i do"

"sweet thing, i watch you burn so fast, it scares me"

and the iconic line "mind games, don't leave me come so far, don't lose me...it matters where you are"

"i don't feel like myself, I'm not gonna lie how would you know? it doesn't show"

"oh, please ignore me, i'm just feeling sorry for myself"

"he could be cool and cruel to you and me knew we'd put up with anything"

and the SOUL CRUSHING LINE "i wanna hurt him, i wanna give him pain, i'm a roman candle, my head is full of flames"

[danleydon]

My full set of trading cards for Topps Project22

https://uk.topps.com/project-22/project22-ronaldo-by-dan-leydon-topps-uk.html

[lookedinfinite]

𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗘: // tag dump: relationships

𝗥𝗘𝐈𝐈𝐆𝗡𝐎𝗡𝐌𝐄: // between the different shades of you.  [ Luke & Maeve ]

𝗥𝗘𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐈𝗕𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝗡𝐒: // a dangerous hope.  [ Hotch & Maeve ]

𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝗥𝐈𝐔𝐒𝗩𝐎𝐈𝐓: // change your taste in men.  [ Elias & Maeve ]

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒: // but trauma is immortal and none of this is your fault.  [ Jami & Maeve ]

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒: // but I keep coming back this must be serious.  [ Kiwi & Maeve ]

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒: //  been in pain but not a quitter.  [ Savannah & Maeve ]

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒: // the only thing sure from the start.  [ Jill & Maeve ]

𝗗𝗔𝗡𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗜𝗜𝗦𝗠: // remember the fire remember her face.  [ Carol & Maeve ]

𝗕𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗦𝗢𝗙𝗔𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡: // all those wonders sit in wait.  [ Kurt & Maeve ]

𝐂𝐇𝐋𝗢𝗘𝗩𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑: // wake me up before I’m gone.  [ Chloe & Maeve ]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐆𝐀𝗭𝐄𝐑𝐒: // at my own funeral I don’t recognize myself anymore.  [ Xandra & Maeve ]

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓: // many moons of waiting on a steady sun.  [ Clara & Maeve ]

𝐘𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐊𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐄: // separation’s all that can save us love.  [ Spencer & Maeve ]

𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐈𝐒𝐌: // I need you to tell me I’m worthy.  [ Ray & Maeve ]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐏𝐀𝗦𝗧: // it's not the life you thought you'd live.  [ Peter & Maeve ]

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐀𝗧𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐒: // if you’re lonely can’t you speak love.  [ Felix & Maeve ]

𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐓𝐍𝐀𝐌: // the touch of his hands were as cold as his eyes.  [ Bobby & Maeve ]

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒: // it's like I heard your heartbeat call.  [ Bethany Elliott ]

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒: // give my soul just to see your face.  [ Oliver Elliott ]

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝗗: // I'm a long way from home now.  [ Spencer & Maeve ]

[megarabane]

Felix's Stardew Valley

The First Spring

The Stardrop Saloon

[masterlist and summary]

<><><>

“So, uh…question.”

“Shoot,” Leah shrugs, setting a basket of strawberries on the counter. “Where’s my water?”

“You’ve lived here a while,” Felix begins carefully.

“Couple years, yeah. Oh, here it is.” Leah flops into one of the kitchen chairs with a dramatic sigh, draining a water bottle in one go. It’s only when he reaches for his that Felix realizes that was his.

“Yo,” he scolds, affronted.

“Oh, you’ve got more. If you want me to help you make jam, I need to be hydrated.” She wags the empty bottle at him indicatively. “Was that your question? Because that wasn’t a question.”

“No, um, my, uh…” Felix clears his throat, turning away from Leah to studiously examine the three baskets of strawberries currently adorning his little countertop. He’d maybe gone a little overboard buying strawberry seeds from Pierre at the egg festival when his cauliflower wasn’t even ready to harvest yet, but apparently, the markets in Zuzu City are paying a premium for fresh produce—and there’s enough to try his own hand at canning and…jamming? Jam-making, probably. And plenty to eat. He loves strawberries. It’s kind of a problem.

All the windows are thrown open—even as warm as it is, the cross-breeze is a welcome movement through the little farmhouse that apparently doesn’t have central air. “My question. Right. Um. You’re friends with—with Elliott, right?”

The chair she sits in creaks interestedly. “I am.”

“Is he…” Single might be too forward. Gay really isn’t any better. Looking for a twink with terrible social skills and debilitating imposter syndrome isn’t…great. Felix bites absently at a hangnail. “Is—Is he— What’s he do?”

“He’s a writer,” Leah explains. “Moved here from some little town a handful of years ago—I don’t really remember where. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

Leah sighs, long and slow. “Well… Before he came here, he graduated college with an MBA and applied to law school in Zuzu City.”

Surprised, Felix turns to her. She’s thrown her legs up into the second chair at the table and is turning the water bottle in a shaft of sunlight pouring through the open window, although her gaze is fixed on something distant, a little frown tugging at her face. “That’s a pretty prestigious law school.”

“He didn’t make it past his first year,” Leah replies softly. “It wasn’t his grades or anything—he just realized his passion wasn’t actually in law.”

“That’s a long time to go and then realize where your passions lie.”

“The way he tells it, he was barely passionate about the MBA. It was what his family wanted him to do. They’d decided that writing wasn’t going to get him anywhere, and didn’t hesitate to tell him as much. Once he realized that he was just doing what they wanted and not what he wanted… Well, he dropped it all and came here. Bought a little two-room cabin on the beach and spends almost all his time focused on his writing.”

He starts to ask another question, but Leah cuts him off with a shake of her head. “Anything past that isn’t my story to tell.” She finally looks at him, head cocked with a playful little smile. “You’ll just have to get to know him yourself.”

Felix draws his hands protectively to his chest, like his feelings might be painted across his ribs and he could potentially hide them from her. “Well—Well—”

“Most of the town usually goes to the Saloon on Fridays,” Leah continues like he’d not spoken. “You should come tomorrow. Get to know him. Plus, it’ll be a good way for you to get to know the other townspeople, too. I think before the flower dance, most of them were convinced a ghost had taken up residence here. As it stands, I was getting my fair share of strange looks for ‘hanging out at the old Northridge place alone’ because no one had actually seen you.”

Felix blanches. “I’m—not good at making friends.”

Like that would stop the extrovert who had clearly adopted him as her own little basket case.

Leah shakes her head like she’s already decided. She probably has. “If you aren’t at my place by three, I’ll come get you myself, and we’ll go together. So, you can either come down and meet me willingly, or I’ll do it myself. Pick your poison.”

Felix taps his fingers nervously together and leans against the counter behind him. “I think I’m reconsidering the terms of our friendship,” he decides.

“Too bad.” Leah throws the empty water bottle at him, and it bounces off his shoulder and clatters noisily to the wood floor. “Signed in blood, I’m afraid. Completely unbreakable. Should have read the fine print the first time around.”

<><><>

Felix does his best to hide behind Leah as she throws open the front door of the Stardrop Saloon to raucous noise and jaunty tavern music. It proves to be remarkably unsuccessful, partially due to the several inches of height difference between them.

“Leah, my darling!”

Leah thrusts a hand into the air and waves, and Felix tries his best to blend into the wallpaper.

“Coming!” Leah turns up to Felix, beaming. “Why don’t you get us drinks—tell Gus to put it on my tab, no, shut up, not up for debate—and I’ll get Elliott warmed up for you?”

“I d-don’t need you to—to warm him up,” Felix stammers weakly. He makes the mistake of looking up from Leah and across the saloon, and immediately makes unobstructed eye contact with Elliott, who watches him with no small amount of surprise, a glass halfway to his mouth. His heart pitches straight through his stomach and crashes into the floorboards. “I’ll get the drinks anyway,” he decides in a rush, and he hurries up to the bar. He only trips over his own feet once.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Gus greets, polishing a glass and smiling warmly under his well-groomed moustache. “It was, ah, Felix, right?”

“Um, that’s—that’s right,” he replies, scooting onto a stool before his shaking knees can give out on him.

“Leah dragged you out tonight?” he guesses, tossing his towel over one shoulder and returning the glass upside down on a stack of its brethren. “It’s not a hard tell—she does this with anyone she adopts as her own.”

“Oh.” Well, at least I’m not the only one. Felix clears his throat behind one hand. “She was…pretty insistent.”

Gus laughs, passing his hand over the towel. “That’s sure one way to put it! Hear that, Em?” he asks over his shoulder, drawing the attention of the girl organizing wine bottles. Her short blue hair is pinned back with an ornate clip sporting a well-polished amethyst. “Leah’s just insistent.”

“Oh, more than that,” the girl agrees sagely, nodding. “She’s the unstoppable force every immovable object eventually succumbs to. A real natural disaster, even. In all the best of ways, of course,” she adds with a bright smile at Felix. He returns it, not really sure what he’s silently agreeing to.

“The mystery farmer makes an appearance!” Felix jolts badly as the stool next to him is suddenly occupied by Pierre, who slaps him bodily on the back and elicits a decidedly unattractive squeak. “We were starting to wonder if you’d died out there.”

“Pierre,” the girl scolds, tossing him a stern look. “You know what spreading rumors does.”

“Yes, yes, bad energy or whatever. My bad, Emily.” Pierre leans both elbows on the bar, holding a mug of beer in both hands, and examines Felix over the top of his glasses. “How’s the wilderness and that ramshackle little lean-to treating you? I’ve not heard any commotion at Harvey’s in the late hours, so I assume it can’t be that bad.”

“No, not at all,” Felix insists. “It’s very, um…quiet.”

“So’s death,” Pierre agrees.

“Pierre!” Emily repeats, harsher. Gus turns away to hide a stifled snort of laughter. “Don’t pay any attention to him,” she insists, pushing a tall glass across the counter to him, full of a bright red liquid and adorned with a brightly colored straw. “Either of them. This is Leah’s usual. What can I make you?”

Felix scans the bottles adorning the back wall quickly, more to buy himself time. What’s the strongest thing I can order without looking like a drunkard to make this entire ordeal more bearable? “Can—Can  you do a Tom Collins? With that Bombay?”

“Of course I can.” Emily turns away only briefly to grab the crystal blue bottle and spins back as Gus slides a highball glass in front of her. “How’s life on the farm treating you? Pierre, go away if you’re just going to make comments.”

Pierre snorts into his frosted beer glass, elbows propped on the bar. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“No use arguing with her,” Gus says with a shrug. “She gets it from yours.”

“It’s been good,” Felix answers as Gus and Pierre fall into a good-natured bicker. “Shipped my first strawberry harvest, and kept just enough to try my hand at…jam.”

“Oh, fresh strawberry jam!” Emily throws her head back in dramatic rapture as she tips a heavy splash of what seemed to be fresh lemon juice into the cocktail shaker. “You have to let me know when it’s ready. Please.”

“I-I’ve never actually made jam myself before,” Felix explains hurriedly, stomach knotting in sudden panic. “It might be shit. It’ll probably be shit.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Emily insists, slamming the two parts of the shaker together and hefting them into the air. “Ask Leah for tips—she’s a great coach! And even without Leah helping you, it’s pretty foolproof! Strawberries are so good.”

Gus interrupts just to slide Felix a glass of dark liquor and say, “For Elliott,” with a smile. “When they ask, I put it on his tab, not Leah’s, don’t worry.”

“And hey,” Pierre cuts in, shoulder-bumping him, “if it turns out good, I might just have an empty shelf at the store to prop ‘em up on!”

When Felix just stares at him, Emily slides him his drink and leans in to whisper, “He’s offering to sell your jam at the store.”

“Oh—Oh,” he realizes. “Uh—Uh, I have to see how the batch turns out, though; if it’s no good, I-I’d hate to sell a bad…product, y’know, at your store…”

“God’s sake, we gotta put a spine in that back of yours, kid,” Pierre snorts, and Emily flicks an ice cube at him with a sound of frustration as Gus laughs. Felix tucks his head, embarrassed, and takes a long drink of his Tom Collins. It’s fantastic.

<><><>

“You brought the new farmer,” is the first thing Elliott says as Leah drops onto her stool at his side.

“I did,” she agrees, batting her lashes innocently. Elliott misses it entirely, staring at the way he sits very straight on the bar stool, only to have his entire posture rocked by an already-inebriated Pierre throwing too much force into a shoulder pat. “We’re friends.”

“You adopted him, then.”

“’Course I did. You saw him at the egg festival.” Leah takes the glass from his hand and takes a little taste. Her nose wrinkles delicately and she pushes it back. “God, that never gets better. If he had it his way, he’d never leave the farm, I think.”

Elliott’s eyes trace the untidy ends of his hair—dyed a pretty sapphire once, surely, although the roots under the sun-faded color are an equally pretty blond—and the angle of his neck down the curve of his back and his long legs. He’s got a lot of leg for someone barely taller than Leah. “Uh-huh.”

“I’ve been helping him pick his strawberries,” Leah continues, apparently unaware of Elliott’s wandering attention, “and I’m going to show him how to make jam the proper way. I’ll save you some. I know you prefer cherry to strawberry, but he’s not got any trees growing yet.”

Felix nervously wraps his hands around Leah’s usual as he seems to order something at random, cheeks coloring a beautiful peach pink. Elliott raises his glass, suddenly wondering if his skin is as soft as one. “Uh-huh.”

Leah stares at him. “I could ask if he’s got cherries for you, though.”

This gains his attention. Elliott chokes on his drink and gives Leah a scandalized stare. “What?”

“He might have some preserves left; the old man was really into canning, remember?” She inclines her head, eyes round and innocent. “What did you think I meant?”

Elliott looks at her until her mouth twitches and she turns away, covering her laugh with one hand. “You are insufferable,” he declares, finishing off the rest of his drink. He holds the glass over his head until Gus looks up at him, and the bartender nods and gestures to Felix before turning away. “Is this why you brought him here? To bother me?”

“Well, I do like watching you fawn over pretty boys,” she admits.

“I have spoken to the young man twice,” Elliott reprimands her sharply. “I will not be fawning over him tonight.” Not publicly. “Potentially ever.”

Here’s the thing that Elliott hates—he’s down horrendous for the new farmer. The night of the egg festival, he’d gone home and laid in his bed, listening to the ocean and thinking about summer-green eyes until he was dizzy. The next morning, he’d headed into town at the first opportunity, doing his shopping and milling about in the faint hopes that Felix might show.

Instead, he’d run into Leah, sent on a mission for fertilizer from Pierre’s as a reprieve from planting strawberry seeds. She’d gotten that terribly knowing look in her eye as Elliott had stammered out a none-too-subtle question about Felix, then made an equally terrible excuse before she could even answer and had all but run back to his cabin, mortified.

A text had been waiting for him when he’d finally drawn himself from his embarrassed moping to check his phone, from Leah: Felix is doing great, followed by a kissing emoticon, and an attached picture. She had her tongue out, throwing a peace sign at the camera. Behind her, Felix was kneeling next to some freshly worked earth, shielding his eyes with one hand and squinting in a way that scrunched up his nose. He mimicked her pose with two fingers held out in front of him. The soft white button-down he wore was open almost all the way to his navel, exposing well-tanned skin, and he was barefoot, with the several years of leg he carried covered only by a pair of dirty white shorts that stopped above the knee.

He’s…not proud that he looks at that photo every so often.

As for ‘speaking to him twice’, their chance encounter in Pierre’s two weeks ago could barely be counted as a conversation, really, even by the most generous among them. Elliott, thinking about his novel, hadn’t paid attention before turning a corner, and he’d bumped into Felix, eliciting a yelp from the younger man, wearing heavy headphones.

“I’m so sorry,” Elliott stammered at the same time huge emerald eyes stared up at him, stuttering out an equal apology. Not unlike a cornered rabbit seizing its opportunity at flight, Felix just ducked his head and bolted to the counter to pay for his groceries, and had kept his eyes on the floor as he’d flown from Pierre’s. Elliott spent the rest of the day kicking himself, although he’s not entirely sure why.

“Not to mention, I’m likely ten years his senior or more, Leah,” he finishes sternly.

“Oh, do not put on that ‘I’m on my deathbed, call me a nursing home’ act,” Leah scolds. “Felix is twenty-six, I’ll have you know.”

Elliott blinks. That…only puts five years between them. That is not something he’d expected, really. Is he just…baby-faced? Or am I used to Samson and Sebastian? Or am I simply not used to guessing ages anymore? “Truly?” he asks softly.

“Turns twenty-seven in midsummer,” she confirms, glancing toward the bar. “He’d better get over here; I swear, if my drink is all watered down by the time he gets it to me…”

Like her muttering summoned him, Felix slides off the stool and stands up with three drinks supported deftly in his fingers. He stares stalwartly down at them as he walks, and lets go of a short breath as he sets them on the table between them.

“Gus said to make sure to say that Elliott’s drink is on his own tab and not yours, Leah,” he says, soft voice almost lost in the music and raucous noise of the bar. Elliott hadn’t noticed the saloon filling up with the rest of the valley’s inhabitants, although now he sees Pierre has been joined by Shane and Pam, and Robin and Demetrius are laughing as they dance in front of the fireplace. The clatter of billiard balls is punctuated by a loud roar of cheers and laughter from the other room.

Elliott takes his glass, and Felix’s skin is so soft under his fingertips as their hands brush. Elliott loses all nerve to make eye contact and just takes a heavy drink, focused on the light fixture over their table.

“I was just telling Ellie about your strawberry harvest,” Leah gushes excitedly, mixing her drink with a black bar straw and ruining Emily’s perfect ombre pour. “We should have plenty sealed by the end of the weekend, don’t you think?”

Elliott risks a look and finds Felix’s eyes watching him nervously, although they dart away just as quickly, his shoulders tucking forward. He takes a long sip of his drink through the straw, humming a non-committal answer.

He gulps down his mouthful of whiskey and steels himself to ask, “How is your first spring in Stardew Valley treating you?”

Felix glances up at him again, and his face turns red as he drops his gaze to offer, “It’s—It’s fine, um… I’m getting the hang of farming, I think.”

Intrigued, Elliott tips his head. “You didn’t know farming before coming here?”

“Mm-mm.” He shakes his head. “Grandpa just…left the farm to me. I’m still not sure why, why me over my dad or my uncles… I’ve only ever been out here a few times, and I wasn’t really old enough to remember it, anyway, but…yeah, he willed it to me.”

“That was some time ago,” Leah offers, eyes rounding with concern. Clearly, the topic of his family—and especially his grandfather—isn’t one she’d breached before. Elliott is inclined to agree—he’d thought the old man had passed away…what, four years ago now? Nearly five?

“It took me a while to get the nerve to quit my job at Joja,” he admits, and his shoulders tuck a little further, like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible. “It sucked, sure, but it was—it was steady, y’know?”

“Don’t I,” Elliott agrees, raising his glass in a mock toast. “Writing only pays the bills when you actually have something published.”

“You could ghostwrite,” Leah suggests for the hundredth time.

“I have standards, my love,” he scoffs, waving a hand dismissively at her. “Ghostwrite? And not have my name and face on the things I pour all my heart and soul into? No, thank you.”

Once the conversation is off of him, Felix seems to relax more, and by the bottom of his third drink, his cheeks are colored with intoxication but he’s laughing along with them. Emily takes some sporadic breaks to spend time sitting too-close to Leah, and Felix even joins in with Elliott in ribbing the two of them to just kiss already, which turns them both a flustered pink.

By the time he feels leaden with liquor, it’s well past midnight. Elliott pushes himself to his feet with an exaggerated grunt, eats the last of their shared pepper poppers, and announces, “I am going to go lay in the sand until the ocean reclaims me.”

“Coward,” Leah taunts, sucking down her second water. “How boring. You never close down the saloon with me anymore. You got all old and boring, Ellie.”

“I have a much longer walk than you, my dearest,” Elliott replies, patting her soothingly on the arm. “And inspiration oft strikes when the moon is full.”

He turns his attention to Felix, who is picking stray pieces of breading and cheese from the wax paper. He looks up, though, as if feeling Elliott’s gaze, and boldly says, “It was good to get to know you, Elliott.”

“And you, Felix,” he agrees, holding out a hand. When Felix takes it, clearly expecting a handshake, Elliott (he’s drunk, he’s so drunk, that’s the only reason he thought this was a good idea, obviously) just brings it up and lays a chaste kiss to his fingers.

Leah shrieks in delighted laughter. Felix’s mouth falls open as he goes cherry red, dumbfounded.

“Take care in your walk home,” Elliott murmurs against his skin, and returns his hand gently to the table before leaving the saloon.

The brisk night air almost immediately snaps him more awake as the doors shut behind him, but even so, he can’t really bring himself to be embarrassed. He turns his face into the night and smiles like a giddy schoolboy as he walks.

Under the smell of the bar and their food, his skin had smelled fresh like rain and earth, and sweet like peaches. Elliott is already obsessed.

God, he is down horrendous.

He somehow makes it through the front door of his cabin before he makes the decision out loud.

“I’m going to court him,” he announces to his single-room house, throwing his arms wide like a playactor. “I’m going to court the shit out of him.”

<><><>

Leah: How’d that work for you, Mr. “I will not be fawning over him tonight”?

Elliott: I firmly believe you were put on this earth to torment me.

Leah: The theory has merit—I’ve not seen any evidence to the contrary, and I do get joy from it.

[emzchaos]

Koala Bay High School - DETENTION!!

Mr. Greene: *Speechless* A llama? Kole: His name was STEVE. Mr. Greene: You got a llama and put it in Brindleton Bay High’s Private school? Jai: Yeah, did Mrs Harton not tell you about the llama? Mr. Greene: *Confused* I was not and now I understand the pool duty detention

Maxie: Romeo, you think Mum purposely left that detail out? Jai: I think she knew how he would react, when told him Maxie: *Smiles* Mama Kira knows us too well Jai: She does, Mr Greene though looks so shocked we pull that off Maxie: I can’t believe all we got is pool duty

Ryder: *Mumbles* This is worse than death.. Felix: You did some epic shit to get here Ryder: I stupidly followed.. What you do? Felix: Wore Black and was caught wagging and shit.

✨ 𝔅𝔢𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 | 𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 | 𝔑𝔢𝔵𝔱 ✨

[nofatclips]

Happen by Nick Hakim, live at Les Pianos, Montreuil - Directed by Hugo Jouxtel

[egyptiankingg]

"Please Let Me Go."

A Sadio mane x Mohamed Salah Series.

summary: Once mane leaves liverpool, he can't help but hold grudges against his old "best friend" Mohamed Salah but what will happen when mane let's his anger get the best of him? Keep reading the series to find out!

warnings: mentions of: self harming, angst, betrayal and bullying

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sadio Mane and Mo Salah had been teammates on Liverpool Football Club for years. They had formed a close bond on and off the field, and their dynamic duo had become legendary. But one day, Mane surprised everyone by announcing that he would be leaving Liverpool to join a new team.

Before he left, Mane pulled Salah aside and said, "I hope I never see you again and ill drown you in the nile next time i see you" Salah was taken aback by the sudden hostility from his friend and teammate. He didn't understand what he had done wrong. He had always looked up to Mane and admired his skill on the field.

Salah tried to brush it off and focus on the upcoming game, but he couldn't shake the hurt and confusion he felt. He couldn't stop thinking about Mane's words and what they meant for their friendship.

As the days passed, Salah tried to move on, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He missed his friend and teammate, but he didn't know how to fix their relationship so he decided to message mane.

Mo salah | Sadio Mane

hey, can we fix this?

Please let me go I hate you!

cannot send your message

due to this users privacy settings.

Mo Salah sat in his room, staring at his phone in disbelief. Sadio Mane had blocked his number. He tried calling him again and again, but each time it went straight to voicemail.

Salah couldn't believe that his best friend and teammate would do this to him. They had been through so much together, and now it seemed like Mane wanted nothing to do with him.

Feeling lost and alone, Salah decided to confide in his other close friend on the team, Jordan Henderson. He told him everything that had happened, but Henderson seemed hesitant to believe him.

"I don't know, Mo. I saw Mane before our last game, and he gave me a good luck handshake. He didn't seem upset with you at all," Henderson said.

Salah was hurt and frustrated. He knew what he had experienced, but it seemed like no one believed him. He closed his phone and slumped back onto his bed, feeling more alone than ever.

As the days passed, Salah tried to focus on his game and put Mane out of his mind. But it was hard to ignore the hurt and confusion he felt. He couldn't understand why Mane would block him without any explanation.

But mo salah couldn't worry about Mane since he had a game coming up, in training Jordan Henderson had told Trent on what Mo said about Mane and the next day he felt everyone was being a bit distant from him except for Harvey. Harvey had told mo what the others were saying and that left mo more upset. Mo Salah felt a sense of unease as he walked onto the training field the next day. He could sense that something was off. The usual banter and laughter among his teammates were missing, and everyone seemed to be avoiding him.

As he warmed up, he noticed Trent whispering something to Jordan Henderson. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he knew it was about him. He felt a pang of hurt and confusion. He had confided in Henderson, and now it seemed like everyone knew his business.

After the training session, Salah walked over to Harvey, who had been one of the few players to acknowledge him during the session. "What's going on, Harvey?" he asked.

Harvey hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Some of the other guys were talking about what you told Jordan. They're not sure if they believe you. They think you might be making it up."

Salah's heart sank. He couldn't believe that his own teammates would doubt him like this. He didn't know what to do or who to turn to.

Feeling alone and isolated, Salah left the training ground and went home. He tried to focus on the upcoming game, but his mind was consumed with thoughts of Mane and his now-doubting teammates.

Mohamed Salah had been looking forward to the next game for weeks. He had been working hard in training and was determined to make a difference on the pitch. But as soon as the game started, things didn't go as planned. He missed a few chances and couldn't seem to get into the flow of the game.

At half-time, Jordan Henderson, the team captain, had some harsh words for him. "You're only missing because we caught you out on lying! This isn't like you at all," he shouted. The rest of the team gave him rude looks as well, and he felt like he had let them down.

Mohamed tried to shake off the negativity and focus on the second half. He knew he had to make a difference and prove himself to his teammates. And then, it happened. He got a penalty.

As he stood at the spot, he tried to focus on the ball and block out the negative thoughts in his head. But he couldn't help but hear Mane's words echoing in the back of his mind. He hesitated for a split second, and that was enough for the goalkeeper to save the shot.

After the game, he went to see Henderson in the changing room. "What did you mean earlier?" he asked. "What did I lie about?"

Henderson looked at him for a moment before speaking. "You know exactly mo, I wish it was you who left and not mane!"

Mohamed Salah was completely taken aback by Jordan Henderson's outburst. He had never seen the captain so angry before, and the words stung deeply. He tried to approach Henderson after the match to clear the air, but the captain just shouted again, telling him to stop making everything worse for the team and that he wished Salah had left instead of Mane.

The words echoed in Salah's head as he made his way home. He couldn't believe that a teammate would say something so hurtful. He had always thought that they had each other's backs, but now he wasn't so sure.

When he got home, he went straight to his room and cried. He felt like he had let everyone down, and now he was being blamed for things he hadn't done. He didn't know how to make things right, and he was starting to question whether he even wanted to stay with the team.

But as he lay there, feeling sorry for himself, he realized that giving up wasn't an option. He had worked too hard to get to where he was, and he wasn't going to let anyone take that away from him. He knew he had to stand up for himself and prove his worth to the team.

The next day, he went back to training with a renewed sense of determination. He worked harder than ever, pushing himself to the limit in every drill and exercise. And slowly but surely, his teammates began to notice. They saw the effort he was putting in, and they started to respect him again until.....

Jurgen Klopp gathered the Liverpool squad in the training ground to deliver some surprising news. "I have just received word that the people at the Champions League got the draw wrong. We will be playing Bayern Munich and not Chelsea after all," he announced.

Mohamed Salah felt his heart drop as he heard the news. He knew that this meant he would be facing Mane again on the pitch, and who knew what would happen this time. He couldn't help but feel a sense of dread.

Jordan Henderson noticed Salah's reaction and immediately spoke up. "You know Mo, you're the one to blame if it has anything to do with you and Mane," he said, his voice tinged with frustration.

Salah looked up at Henderson, feeling a mix of anger and hurt. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

Henderson didn't back down. "You know what I'm talking about. Your feud with Mane has been causing issues for the team, and it needs to stop. If we lose this game because of your personal problems, it's on you," he said firmly.

Salah felt a pang of guilt as he realized that Henderson was right. His issues with Mane had been causing problems for the team, and he knew that he needed to put them aside if they were going to have any chance of winning against Bayern Munich.

He took a deep breath and looked around at his teammates. "I'm sorry. You're right. It's time to put our personal issues aside and focus on the game. We need to work together if we're going to win," he said.

The rest of the team nodded in agreement, and Klopp smiled, relieved. "Good. That's what I like to hear. Now let's get to work," he said.

Mo couldn't feel a bit of guilt when agreeing with Henderson. He knew that he had told the truth, and he had a clear conscience. Mane had said all those rude things to his face, and Mo had nothing to hide. He knew that his teammates might still be unsure about him telling the truth, but he had a kind heart and would never lie.

The day of the big game between Liverpool and Bayern Munich had finally arrived, and Mo Salah was more determined than ever. He knew that this game was important, not just for his team, but for himself as well. He wanted to prove that he was a valuable player, both on and off the field.

As the game began, Salah was focused and ready. He knew that Mane would be playing for Bayern Munich, and he was determined to show him that he was wrong to doubt him. In the first half, Mane had scored a goal and stuck his tongue out at Salah, taunting him. Salah felt a surge of anger, but he knew that he couldn't let it get the best of him.

In the second half, Salah came out stronger than ever. He was fast, focused, and determined to score. He knew that his team was counting on him, and he didn't want to let them down. He dribbled past Bayern Munich's defenders with ease, and finally, he saw his chance.

Salah kicked the ball with all his might, and it soared past the goalkeeper, hitting the back of the net. The stadium erupted with cheers, and Salah felt a sense of pride and satisfaction. He had proven himself, not just to Mane, but to everyone.

But Salah wasn't done yet. He continued to play with determination, and soon enough, he scored another goal, making it 2-1 in favor of Liverpool. The Bayern Munich fans were stunned, and Mane looked on with a mix of disbelief and anger.

At the end of the game, Salah was named Man of the Match, and he was congratulated by his teammates and fans alike. Mane came over to shake his hand, and Salah could see the regret in his eyes. He knew that he had been in the wrong all along and he was glad mane was finally being nice until-

"This isn't over yet, you may think you're smart but I've already took your friend's so now I've just got to slowly persuade klopp and you're be outta liverpool as quickly as possible" mane says as he winks. Alisson and Harvey watch in horror as they see salah run away.

"I wonder what mane said to him" Harvey muttered.

"I really hope mo is okay, he's been going through alot lately."

Salah had just finished a long day at work and was feeling drained. He needed to clear his head and get some fresh air, so he decided to go for a jog. He changed into his running clothes and headed out the door.

As he ran through the streets of Liverpool, he felt the cool evening breeze on his face and the rhythm of his feet hitting the pavement. He felt his mind start to clear as he focused on his breathing and the movement of his body.

Suddenly, he felt a presence behind him. He turned around and saw a man running towards him at full speed. Salah stepped to the side to let him pass, but as the man went by, he suddenly reached out and hit Salah in the back of the head.

Salah fell to the ground, feeling disoriented and dizzy. He tried to get up, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. He felt himself passing out as the man grabbed his wallet and ran off.

When Salah woke up, he was lying on the ground with a pounding headache. He looked around and saw that his wallet was missing. He realized that he had been mugged.

Shaken and scared, Salah managed to stumble back home. He called the police and filed a report, but he couldn't shake off the feeling of vulnerability and fear. He realized that he had taken his safety for granted and that he needed to be more careful in the future.

Salah woke up in the hospital bed, feeling groggy and disoriented. He looked around and saw Klopp, Henderson, Alisson, and Harvey sitting around him, looking concerned.

"What happened?" Salah asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You passed out during training," Klopp explained, his brow furrowed with worry. "We rushed you to the hospital. The doctors think it might be related to the incident that happened yesterday."

Salah's heart sank as he remembered the confrontation with Mane. He had thought it was just a harmless argument, but now he wasn't so sure. He had a sinking feeling that Mane might have done something to him.

"Are you sure it wasn't Mane?" Harvey asked, cutting through Salah's thoughts.

Salah hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. He didn't want to accuse his old teammate without any proof.

But then he remembered Mane's words and the way he had looked at him yesterday. He felt a surge of anger and frustration.

"I don't know for sure," he admitted. "But he did say something to me yesterday that made me feel...off."

Klopp looked at Salah with concern. "What did he say?"

"He said...he said something about this not being the end," Salah replied, feeling a wave of nausea wash over him. "And then he looked at me in this really strange way. I don't know, it just didn't feel right."

The room fell into a tense silence as the others exchanged worried glances. They all knew how important Salah was to the team, and the thought of someone deliberately trying to harm him was unsettling.

"We need to get to the bottom of this," Henderson said firmly. "We can't let anyone mess with our team like this."

The others nodded in agreement, and Salah felt a sense of relief wash over him. He knew he had their support, and that they would do whatever it takes to protect him and the team.

As he lay in the hospital bed, he felt a newfound determination to uncover the truth and make sure that justice was served. He knew that he couldn't let anyone bring him down, no matter how hard they tried.

(Just to explain the last part salah had told everyone in training about the whole wallet thing then passed out again)

[pensfan4lfe2]

2022-23 NHL Backup Goalies per Team

(Based on ice time played/games started)

Felix Sandstrom, Casey DeSmith, Kaapo Kahkonen, Philipp Grubauer, Thomas Greiss, Brian Elliott, Matt Murray, Spencer Martin, Adin Hill,Charlie Lindgren, & David Rittich

[not-poignant]

Haihai little ask, which character did you enjoy most writing, who do you relate to most, and who did you find hardest to write? It could include current wips as welll (mallory and mount cos im rlyy curious abt these boys)

Ps Underline is awesome!

I'm so glad you're enjoying Underline the Black!

Tbh I don't have one fixed answer to your question because it changes all the time! The character I enjoy writing the most is usually the one I'm writing right now, so it's definitely Efnisien. (Because like, if I stopped enjoying them the most I'd just write another character! So it used to be Gwyn, but it isn't anymore).

In terms of the hardest character, it's usually the characters I'm not writing the perspectives of, like Ash for example. I haven't written much from Mallory's perspective yet so I don't know much about him! And nothing from Lewis Mount's so I don't know much about him either.

The character's of mine that are hardest that I've written probably include Eran Iliakambar, and early on, Augus until I got the hang of him. I don't generally like writing characters that are very 'hard' to write though? So I don't often write them! I want the process of writing to feel like...fairly enjoyable, so I'm not looking for things to feel really difficult or impossible.

As for the characters I relate the most to over time, that changes a lot too! I relate to Gwyn a lot in The Nascent Diplomat, but less in other stories. And I relate to Efnisien more in Falling Falling Stars, but less in Underline the Black. So I think it's less about the character and more about what they're specifically dealing with!

It's so weird to think that Efnisien won't be my favourite character to write anymore one day, but I used to feel that way about Gwyn too! It's strange the way things can change.

[angstyaches]

"I know you're hungry, I can hear your belly growling all the way from here."

Thanks, friend! I went with Felix and Elliott for this.

Future Timeline

Word Count: 500

CW: hunger, body horror, gore, blood, fear. More hurt/implied comfort.

___

“I know you’re hungry, boo." There was a brief break in the ravenous sounds of feeding, so that Elliott’s voice could call out across the forest floor. "I can hear your belly growling all the way from here.”

Then he descended back into snarling and growling and slobbering. The smell of the kill wafted on the air, as dense as a fog, and it was sending Felix’s senses into a frenzy.

Tucked into a hollow at the base of a tree about fifty metres away, he pulled his knees harder against his chest. His hope was that if he hugged himself hard enough, his stomach would forget about how empty it was. His teeth chattered around the wooden stick that had once been a blood lollipop; his fourth that day. His tongue prodded and lapped at the empty stick, his throat bobbing in the hopes of finding even just a crumb of a shard that he’d missed. But all he found was excessive saliva and a lingering aftertaste that only made him imagine the taste of fresh flood even more vividly.

Imagine… the warmth pooling in his cheeks and caressing this throat on the way down, soothing the insatiable, dry ache…

Drool trickled into the corner of his mouth. Felix brushed it away. His stomach clenched and voiced its discomfort through a continuous string of groans that sent pulses of physical pain through Felix’s torso and made his hands shake. His body had already demolished the three bacon sandwiches he’d wolfed down before leaving the house, as though they’d been nothing.

Felix lowered his legs and cupped his aching belly, hoping that being gentle might help them come to some kind of truce, but it only growled harder under his hands.

Tears pricked at his eyes, but what else was new? He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t felt on the verge of bursting out crying. He bit absently on his lollipop stick, his head twitching to the side as Elliott shot up next to him as a swarm of bats and re-materialised. More of his face was drenched in blood than not, and as soon as he was solid, he was licking at a trickle of red running from his palm to his wrist.

“I can’t. I can’t do it, Elli,” Felix mumbled, even as his eyes widened and his tongue darted between his lips at the sight of Elliott’s tongue lapping up the trail of blood. A cramp that had been mounting in his belly morphed into a spike of pain.

Elliott dropped to a squat, concern clouding his face as they both listened to a particularly aggressive growl from Felix’s stomach.

“It sounds like you might not have a choice,” Elliott observed solemnly. He offered Felix a bloodstained hand.

“I don… I d-don’t want to change,” Felix whispered.

“You won’t.” A single clean streak remained on the golden band on Elliott’s finger, and it glinted as it caught a ray of sunlight. “And neither will we.”

[famousornotbuthot]

x

[loverboydotcom]

ultimate felix playlist is 87 songs 👍 autism evaluation

[ptwbeec3h]

4 5 1 7 8 9 2 6 3 0

[megarabane]

Felix's Stardew Valley

The First Spring

The Egg Festival

[masterlist and summary]

<><><>

alternate title: the meet-cute

<><><>

Maybe I made a mistake.

It’s only spring. It shouldn’t be this hot already. Or maybe he’s just been out too long today, with yesterday’s sunburn still stinging every time his shirt drags against his shoulders, even tacky with aloe.

Felix kicks the splintered halves of his current hack-job of a split log out of the way, swearing with a word that would curdle his mother’s coffee. He crouches to take a long drag of lukewarm water from the nearly empty bottle at his feet as sweat traces a well-worn line down the back of his neck.

Maybe I’m not cut out for this life.

It’s only been four years since his grandfather’s death, and the wounds were still raw in his parents, he knew. He felt it too, when the holidays rolled around and Grandpa’s beaten old truck never appeared in the driveway. (The driveway at the house he doesn’t live in anymore, he guesses.) Felix still habitually checked every morning during Winter Star season, and every morning was a cruel reminder that he’d not be coming.

He could see the claw marks of grief in his father’s eyes sometimes; while they had been slowly healing, they’d torn back open with fresh agony when Felix had shown him the letter, wax seal broken, and the deed inside.

That was two months ago.

Clutching the water bottle in one hand and his axe with the other, Felix moves gratefully into the shade of a young oak, barely taller than he is (not that that’s saying much from where he stands at a solid five-foot-six). It’ll have to go soon, too, before it gets too thick to cut down by hand and the roots spread into his unevenly-rowed garden and ruin what he’s growing.

Assuming things are even growing.

Felix picks another heavy fallen tree branch (or a young tree felled some time ago) at random, and leaves his water bottle against the base of the oak as he approaches it. He doesn’t let himself think too hard about the ache in his back as he hefts his axe over one shoulder, eyes a spot that looks weak enough, and swings it down with both hands. It connects satisfyingly in the bark, and he coughs out a laugh of triumph.

Google had assured him that it was normal not to see parsnip growth until nearly three weeks. It’s been two weeks and a day since the seeds hit the ground, and he’s ready to pull his hair out. What if the seeds Lewis had left him were bad? What if they were never going to grow? What if he was wasting his time?

The wood groans as the axe lifts free, and Felix brings it back down with a grunt. The branch starts to splinter and creak.

Maybe he should plant the cauliflower seeds soon.

Could cauliflower and parsnips grow together?

He’s so out of his league out here.

Maybe Granddad made a mistake leaving this to me.

With a shout, Felix brings the axe down with all the strength he can muster. The branch splits cleanly in two, though unfortunately, the axe head sinks several inches into the soft dirt underneath it. Felix cusses again and crouches, elbows on his knees and head hanging, breathing through his teeth.

Two months ago, he’d turned in his two weeks’ notice at Joja, leaving his shitty desk job behind in preparation for the move to Stardew Valley. A week later, he’d dug out his grandpa’s old contact book, produced the extremely dated contact information for “Lewis (Mayor)” (his memory hadn’t been quite the same at the end) and dialed without much hope.

After stuttering his way through an extremely clunky conversation with a very confused, then very excited, Lewis, Felix had panicked when he’d been asked when should we expect you? and just given the first answer he could come up with—the end of the month.

In practice, he’d had to call Lewis back a week later to push the date back a little, giving himself a full month after the culmination of his two weeks’ to get his affairs in order (and figure out how the fuck he was going to get all the way to Pelican Town on his own dime).

After a grueling two-day bus ride (with several hasty bus switches, including an overnight in Zuzu City, a place he’d always hated), he’d stumbled off the bus, half-asleep and deeply nauseated from the stale air that stank of heat and sweat and cigarettes, to a fresh mountain breeze and Robin’s beaming smile as she welcomed him to the valley.

With just five-hundred dollars in his pocket and two suitcases of belongings, he’d balked at the sight of the overgrown farm and the…rustic little two-room farmhouse. Robin and Lewis had kept it in decent enough repair, with new windows, a functional fireplace, and no holes in the roof, so little victories, he supposed. She’d even donated a fairly new set of furniture, a minifridge, and a TV.

Lewis had left him almost two dozen packs of parsnip seeds, a set of tools from the town’s agricultural fund, a pat on the back, and a wish of ‘good luck!’, and Felix was on his own.

His back hurts. He rocks his weight against his heels and drops to the ground with a grunt, resting his forehead against one knee. He’s going to need to reapply aloe to his sunburn before much longer, if only to chase some more fleeting relief from yesterday’s dumb decision to be shirtless while he worked.

After being left to his own devices, Felix’s first order of business had been to clear the brush near the house enough to find a sunny spot and get the seeds in the ground. After that, he’d gone to the local grocer to find some food to sustain himself (things that could be made in the microwave and mostly shelf-stable foods; he only had one pitiful mini-fridge and no freezer), ended up venturing to JojaMart for the last few things Pierre’s didn’t have, and set to work on taming the wilderness of the neglected farm.

On his own.

That part was really just starting to set in.

Stupid lonely valley.

Felix stretches his neck until it pops and stares at the axe buried snugly in the dirt. At least I’ll end up fucking shredded from all this work, he reasons dully. Maybe that’ll draw some cute guy’s attention.

Not that he’d met any so far. His trip to Pierre’s and then to JojaMart hadn’t led to any fortuitous meet-cutes. Pierre was married, Gus was at least twice his age, Lewis was out of the question, and Morris made him ill to look at for too long. Abigail and Penny seemed sweet, with the former far more interested in him than the latter, but he felt that dropping the “sorry-I’m-gay” card was a little much during their first conversation, and had just…walked away afterwards, feeling awkward and out-of-place.

Much like he felt every goddamned second he spent in this quaint little valley. He felt like he stank of the city, of a white-collar job, of privilege that left his muscles weak and wanting and his hands uncalloused. He felt like he was trying to fill a set of boots he never wanted to fill—a set he’d never actually prepared for being empty.

“Hey, neighbor!”

Felix raises his head from his frustrated reminiscing at the shout, hastily drying his unexpectedly wet eyes on the hem of his shirt. Coming down the well-tended path (thanks, Robin) is a girl carrying a basket in one arm and waving with the other. Her long red hair is pulled into a plait over one shoulder, effortlessly messy-cute as bangs fly wild around her face.

“Hi,” he greets, pushing himself to his feet and wincing as his back twinges. “I, uh, don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Felix.”

“Leah!” She draws up in front of him and sticks out her free hand, beaming. “I live in the forest to the south, and figured I ought to come say hi if we’re going to be neighbors.”

“Good to meet you.” Felix shakes her hand and only realizes afterwards how sweaty it definitely is.

To her credit, Leah doesn’t seem bothered, and shields her eyes from the sun as she peers at the place he’d abandoned his work. “You’ve already made pretty great progress on the place, haven’t you?” she offers. “I love the cute little garden you’ve got working!”

Felix glances at it, briefly embarrassed by the makeshift scarecrow he’d created from his least-cared-for clothes. “Assuming anything sprouts, I’m sure it will be.”

“These things take time,” she soothes. “I know this little piece of shi—of, uh, paradise—doesn’t have a full kitchen, so I figured”—she brandishes the basket—“you could go for some real food.”

Felix is so taken aback that for a moment, he just stares dumbly at her. “What?”

Leah, at least, laughs. “Maybe you’ve been out in the sun too long, if the idea of food confuses you. I hope I’m not being too forward—would you care for an impromptu picnic?”

He blinks. “Uh—Uh, I’m—sorry?”

“Don’t be.” Leah draws a cross-body strap over her head and shows that it’s not at all a bag, but a tightly rolled blanket with a plastic backing. “I brought enough for two, with plenty of leftovers for you.”

He just stands and stupidly watches her unroll the blanket in the shade before he thinks to stutter out, “You—You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to,” she interrupts, grinning at him as she shakes the blanket out. “But I wanted to be neighborly.” She lays the blanket flat and pauses, glancing back up at him. “I—should have waited for an answer. I’m not being too forward, am I? I’m so sorry if I am.”

“Uh—no!” he finally insists. Christ, dude, two weeks of living alone and you’ve forgotten how to have a fucking conversation with another human being? “No, I—I just don’t want to—impose.”

“Oh, it’s no imposition. Come on, sit.”

Still reeling a bit, he does as he’s told, folding himself cross-legged on one corner of the blanket. Leah drops her sandals to the ground and starts digging in the basket.

“I think I’ve managed to avoid all the major food allergies in one way or another,” she says as she produces way more containers than it looks like the basket ought to hold. “I’ve got a garden salad base and all the extra ingredients separated, so you can pick and choose. Bread and cheese, strawberries, fresh poppyseed muffins—made ‘em myself this morning—and these”—she brandishes two heavy plastic boxes, holding them out to him—“are for you! Vegetable stir fry and rice,” she explains. “They keep pretty well in the fridge. Should hold you over for a few days.”

He takes the containers, staring at them, then looks back up at her. Thank you should be what comes out of his mouth, but instead, what his tongue produces is, “I’m—so sorry, I’m—I’m gay.”

Leah pauses, blinks at him a few times, and bursts out laughing. “I’m not hitting on you,” she gasps between laughs, clutching her stomach. “I’m being friendly. Oh, my God. Did you think—?”

Heat floods his face and he straightens his back defensively. “Well, what was I supposed to—?”

“I’m gay, too,” she interrupts, wiping tears from her eyes, still chuckling. “You’re not even on the table for me, Felix. I’m sorry if it came off like an advance. I’m trying to make sure you don’t die on your diet of, I assume, frozen meals from JojaMart.”

“They’re not—all frozen.”

“I assure you, that does not make it better.”

“I’m sorry.” Felix sets the containers aside and puts his hands over his face. “Can—Can we please start this entire conversation over? I—I have apparently lost all my social skills.”

“Ha, sure.” Leah holds out her hand, grinning. “I’m Leah. I like salads, meeting new people, and women.”

“I’m Felix.” He shakes her hand with more confidence than before, and manages to hold in his laughter as he says, “I hate physical labor and I like apples and men.”

“Apples,” she notes. “Got it. Want to have a picnic?”

“I want to do anything besides chop more wood, actually.”

“Great!” She holds out a wooden bowl. “Feel free to make as much salad as you want.”

They divide up the food, and as he eats, he considers just how strange this entire interaction is. Maybe it’s growing up in the city—cold and sterile compared to the equally unforgiving heat and wilderness of the valley—where knowing your neighbors was less friendly and more a sign of how many times you’d been caught unaware on the other side of the fence. That must be it.

“I will admit,” Leah says after a while, long legs stretched out in front of her as she eyes the place he’d left the axe planted in the dirt, “my motivations for coming up here were also a bit selfish.”

“Yeah?” he asks through a mouthful of lettuce.

“See, I’m a bit of an artist,” she explains. “I draw and paint, but my real passion is woodcarving. I figured you probably had more wood—and maybe more work—than you knew what to do with.”

“So, you make me stir fry to butter me up to take my wood, is that it?” Felix asks, swallowing. “Double entendre intended.”

“No, the stir fry was to butter you up to having a picnic with me,” Leah corrects, tossing her head as if to say the audacity. “I’m offering to help you with your wood-splitting to butter you up into giving me your wood. Double entendre not intended. I have zero interest in your double-entendre-wood.”

Felix takes a long drink of water, considering. He really has no good reason to say no, and he really liked the chemistry he already seemed to have with Leah. At the very least, his social ineptitude hadn’t sent her screaming away, so he counts that a victory. One for Felix, fifteen for the farm. Take that, farm.

“I’d hate to rope you into working for me for free,” he ventures.

“It’s working with you,” she amends, “and my payment is the nicest pieces of carving wood I can find. At least I asked. I could have just started taking from the other end of the farm, and we’d meet in the middle like pawns in a terrible game of chess.”

Felix smiles into his next bite. “I’m not in a position to say no to helping hands,” he relents. “Thanks, Leah. I’ll take you up on it.”

Maybe the valley isn’t quite so lonely, after all.

By the end of that week, the garden is spotted with green parsnip sprouts. Felix only cries a little bit. When Leah comes over that day, she gives him an excited hug and helps him plant the cauliflower.

He really has no plans to attend the egg festival (he’s never been a great fan of eggs, anyway), but Leah is insistent and won’t be dissuaded. They make the walk together with Leah talking his ear off about the egg hunt, all the delicious foods on the menu, the decorations, the atmosphere… Honestly, it’s all sounding a little too overwhelming, and Felix starts hastily constructing an excuse to go home. Will she buy it if I fake cough well enough?

“You’ve not met most of the townsfolk yet, have you?” Leah asks over his thought train, looping her arm through Felix’s like she can sense his flight response ready to trigger. “Come on, I’ll introduce you!”

(He deeply resents getting wine-drunk with her one night and lamenting his debilitatingly high social anxiety. How dare she weaponize it, actually.)

The town square is vibrant. Long tables are set up with colorful tablecloths and adorned heavily with surely more food than the residents of the valley could eat. The trees and bushes are hung with strands of lights and decorations, hanging heavy from branches like summer-thick fruit. Two young kids run around, chasing each other and shrieking while Penny, who he remembers meeting before, watches them like a hawk.

Leah marches him toward a group of people—a young girl with blue hair and an older woman with emerald green locks, talking to a third with their back to the pair’s approach—deaf to his pathetically weak protests.

“Emily, Caroline!” she calls. “Elliott!”

The two ladies look up and wave, beaming, and the third person turns around, tucking his long auburn hair behind one ear. And their eyes meet. And Felix’s heart stops entirely.

Oh, my goodness.