#a whole jumper and two scarves later

[cranesofibycus]

.... I've ... run out of yarn for my CR catch up knitting marathon... how... how do I watch without keeping my hands busy????

[giant-tiny-fiber-friends]

Knitting in G/T

Let's get started with a classic!

(This is a continuation of a conversation that began here, for context)

I'm intending for this to be partly an informative post, as well as a conversation starter in case anyone had ideas or questions regarding the topic. As part of the g/t writing community, I know how handy it can be to have resources for niche topics, so hopefully this can help or inspire someone! I'm going to talk about knitting in existing g/t media, some of the possibilities I can think of as far as knitting for giants and tinies go, and some examples of what gives me real life g/t vibes in knitting.

Knitting, for clarity, is the art of turning yarn into fabric using a pair of needles. It seems like one of those crafts that people have plenty of ideas about with tinies, but doesn't so readily come up with giants. Maybe we'll fix that here, we'll see!

In Media

I've noticed this has mostly been explored from the tiny side of things, at least in established media. Now's the part where I admit that I do not have a comprehensive understanding and grasp of g/t media, so if there are further examples of this that exist, I'd love to hear about them! For now, the most immediate examples I can think of is The Borrowers, both in the book and one of the film adaptations.

The first is featured in one of the original covers of the original book, a colorized version of an illustration that shows Homily knitting on a pair of pins.

The text describes her as "knitt(ing) their jerseys and stockings on black headed pins, and, sometimes, on darning needles (...)" and goes on to describe her using spools of silk or cotton thread to do so. This is doable, especially since both thread and pins can vary in thicknesses, which can affect the way the fabric created behaves. One would simply need to find or make pins that were more dull, because those things can get Sharp!

Darning needles, which are slightly bigger than what you'd think of as sewing needles but still pretty thin, are a little thicker and I would think would be used with something a bit more substantial than thread. I'll get into this more in depth when I get around to talking about spinning, but yarn can be spun pretty finely, and tinies could easily be resourceful enough to manage to get it to a usable size, no matter the needles used.

As an aside, the BBC's 1992 iteration of The Borrowers quietly goes into more detail about this side of their existence. It ran for two seasons, covering most of the books up til "The Borrowers Aloft", I believe. The whole thing can bee found on YouTube, and someone recently posted an HD remaster!

Homily's knitting crops up throughout the first arc as not only a tool for keeping her family warm, but as a way for her to cope with her anxiety. She quickly picks up her knitting (from a small ball of wool she seems to have wound herself rather than from a spool, which is much more mobile) after an argument with Arrietty, and while she waits for Pod to come home from late-night borrowing.

Then, after they flee the cottage, they collect wild wool (seen above) from the brambles to use as insulation, and I believe the implication is that it's later spun into yarn for Homily to use to make Arrietty a sweater/jumper and herself a cardigan, shown in this short clip:

Seriously, if you haven't seen this adaptation, I highly recommend! Lookit Homily getting to be a bit of a badass for once!

The Potential

Knitting like this is plausible in g/t spheres, in my opinion. A lot of modern knitting has grown to lean away from separate straight needles like the pins would facsimile, choosing circular needles instead. Basically it's a few inches of solid needle attached to a flexible cord that more easily allows a knitter to work in a continuous tube (like hats), but they can be used to make flat things (like scarves) as well.

Even if an article is made of tubes- hats, sweaters, and even socks- they can still be made flat and seamed together. So if all a tiny has access to are a pair of pins, or if all a giant can do is carve and polish some wood into straight needles, it's a perfectly valid way to go about things. I'm not going to put a limit on the innovations of big or small folk to be able to come up with workarounds if they truly wanted to make a circular needle equivalent, though. Maybe a tiny could use a sturdy yet flexible bit of wire with the tips worn down to a taper, or a giant could MacGyver something with literal cabling, who knows? I'm all for hearing other ideas!

Real Life G/t Vibes

Most Vibes I get from knitting are from things made with really thick or thin yarn. Big, chunky yarn reminds me of how even the thinnest of yarn would probably still be quite lofty to a tiny. To me, it gives the feeling of having found doll's clothing and using it to keep warm!

The Harper Jacket by Ciadree via Ravelry.com

And I know it's not really useful to a hypothetical giant, but knitting tiny things does give one the feeling of being big. I'm often reminded of Althea Crome, the self-proclaimed micro-knitter who made the knits in the movie Coraline and has a whole gallery of miniature knitted art!

Mixing different weight (sizes) and colors of yarn also gives me very homemade, using what you have on hand even if it doesn't match kinda vibes, which I find fitting for both giants and tinies. They (most likely) don't have textile shops where they can get all matching bits. Or maybe they do, and that's valid, too! I'll get into more detail about that when I talk about scraps and stash eventually, but I think this post has gotten quite long enough.

If you have any more ideas or questions about this topic, and especially if you have more examples in existing g/t media that I don't know of or forgot about when writing this, please do keep the conversation going!

[gallifrey1sburning]

Hi there! Hope you're doing well and wishing you all the best, kick recovery's arse! Or something actually encouraging? As for prompts, how about funky socks? anything to do with wardrobe, really? fluffy jumpers, soft scarves, whatever tickles your fancy (and no worries if not!) 💖

Thank you for both the well wishes and the prompt! This isn't beta read, so if you see any glaring errors, feel free to let me know 😆 - GB

The first time that Draco noticed, they were in the Eighth Year common room. Harry Potter was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the fire, and his trousers had ridden up just enough to show a couple of inches of his socks—or, to be more specific, his horrible, brightly colored, mismatched socks. From what Draco could tell, one was a rather violent shade of orange, while the other seemed to be vertically striped in yellow and blue. On anyone else, he would have assumed that it was intentional, but Potter’s fashion sense had always been a lost cause. He probably just didn’t care enough to bother pairing them. Draco promptly decided to put the whole thing out of his mind—what did he care about Potter’s footwear, anyway?

—

The second time was several weeks later, in Charms. People were so obsessed with Potter after the war that it honestly wasn’t all that surprising when someone “accidentally” vanished his uniform. Surprise or no, though, Draco had to admit that Potter’s nearly-nude body was rather eye-catching. From his seat in the very back of the room, he allowed himself the guilty pleasure of a slow perusal of all that smooth, pale skin, interrupted only by plain black boxer briefs and a pair of socks. Or, rather, two socks that were very much not a pair, one being a dizzying pattern of abstract neon shapes and the other a dark green dotted with little owls that was at least an inch longer than the other. A snort of laughter from Pansy, who was seated to his left, effectively snapped Draco back to reality so that he could glare at her. “I was only wondering why he’s wearing such hideous socks,” he defended.

“Sure you were,” she answered patronizingly.

“I was!” he insisted. “He’s a grown man, it’s pathetic that he can’t even match his own clothes.”

Pansy shrugged. “Maybe it’s laundry day.” In front of them, the class was still in chaos, with a bright red Potter being hastily wrapped in Weasley’s cloak, which was rather too long for him, effectively hiding his ankles from view once more.

—

The third time was after their graduation ceremony. It was an unseasonably hot day, and by some sort of unspoken agreement, almost everyone was stripping down to their skivvies and diving into the bracing cold of the lake. It was a complete coincidence that Draco just happened to be looking in Potter’s direction as he undressed, of course, but as he was, he couldn’t help but notice yet another non-pair of ugly-as-sin socks: red and black tartan on one foot, rainbow print on the other. When Draco’s gaze moved back upward, he realized with a humiliating jolt that Potter was watching him, as well. When their eyes met, Draco hastily looked away, ignoring Pansy and Blaise snickering beside him. “It’s just the socks,” he muttered defensively. “Why can’t the git just match his stupid socks like a normal person?”

“Why don’t you go ask him?” Pansy suggested with a Cheshire Cat grin.

Draco scoffed and pointedly did no such thing.

—

The fourth through tenth times happened in the locker rooms of the Ministry after they wrapped up the sparring classes that made up one of many aspects of their first year of Auror training. Stripes, polka dots, or checks; cats, bicycles, or strawberries; thick or thin; tall or short; the only pattern that Draco could find was that they be as different from one another as possible. The eleventh time—blue roses against a purple background on the left, silver and black spiderwebs on the right—finally pushed him over the edge.

“For Merlin’s sake, Potter, why can you not, for a single day, wear a pair of socks that actually match? I know you’re a certified fashion disaster, but you can’t possibly be so oblivious that you think that those—” and here, he gestured at Harry’s still-stockinged feet, “even remotely go together.”

To Draco’s surprise, Potter’s face didn’t default to the scowl he had been expecting. Instead, it went sad, and then blank. “It’s in memory of a friend,” he said shortly. Efficiently stripping the remainder of his clothes off, he stepped into a shower, turning his back and ignoring Draco completely. A knot of regret settled into Draco’s stomach, and he finished his own post-exercise routine without a word.

—

The 50th or so time—Draco had lost count, eventually—happened on their third date. They were curled together on Harry’s bed, sweaty, breathless, and still partially clothed, having been too impatient to bother getting completely naked before they could get their hands and mouths on each other. Letting his gaze travel down their entwined legs (which they had, in fact, managed to undress), Draco looked at their still-socked feet, which contrasted markedly with each other: Draco in plain, black dress socks and Harry sporting one sock that had a large cat’s head printed across the toes and one featuring Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Draco ran his own foot lightly across Harry’s.

“Will you tell me who they’re for?” he asked quietly.

After a few moments of silence, during which Draco just had time to panic that asking had been a huge overstep, Harry answered, his voice soft. “His name was Dobby. He was a house elf.”

“I think I remember Dobby.” Draco furrowed his brow. “He was one of ours, wasn’t he? He sometimes took care of me as a child. He would read me stories. He disappeared, though, at some point.”

“I freed him.”

There was obviously more story there, but Draco decided that it could hold for another day. Instead, he asked, “How did he die?”

“Saving my life. Not long after you did the same, actually.” Harry paused, and Draco pretended not to notice the hand that came up to wipe his eyes. “Bellatrix killed him.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, meaning it.

“Me, too.” Wrapping an arm around Draco, Harry pulled him closer.

—

On their next date, Draco’s socks didn’t match, either.

[bowieandqueen11]

Halloween With Fred and George Would Include...

Request: Halloween with Fred and George head canons!

This is the DREAM thank you dear!!

Comments are always appreciated!

Halloween with Fred and George at Hogwarts is, of course, a momentous and crazy tradition.

This year, you had decided to deck out on some fancy robes and a really itch fake beard to spend the day dressed as Dumbledore, whilst Fred and George had switched the jumpers their mum had made for them last Christmas and were pretending to be each other. 

You got a lot of weird looks in the corridor, and a few surprised glances from first year students who don’t remember Dumbledore being that short, or having that colour hair, or those colour eyes, but the real fun came in lessons.

Fred and George were spending the day in competition, trying to see who could get the other in the most trouble. So, in poor Professor Flitwick’s class, Fred would shout out really obviously wrong answers, constantly interrupting the old man, and George would try and find ways to cause little explosions in potion class. The three of you spent most of the day just sitting at the back of class, heads bowed and bumped together over your quills and parchment as you try to stifle your laughter, red good dripping down Snape’s face.

In the end, they both won the competition, after Snape walked into the Dungeon Corridor and caught the two of them causing mischief by the Slytherin Common Room. You had managed to stifle your giggle, and hide behind one of the nearby stone pillars, but the twins were marched past you (with a wave, might I add) and sent to McGonagall for setting one of their Wildfire Whiz-bangs, in the shape of a pumpkin, loose after Draco.

The three of you hiding behind the Gryffindor sofa, once you spot Ron snoring and slightly drooling asleep on it. Harry only shakes his head from where he sits with his Charms book, raising his eyebrow at the three of you over the rim of his glasses as your eyes slowly appear from behind the cushions. He too starts laughing, though, when George drops a fake spider down onto Ron’s forehead, and he starts doing this little high pitched scream when he wakes up.

That little prank ends with George being knocked onto his bottom by a flying cushion to the head.

Trip down to Honeydukes! Later on in the day, they drag you, one brother linked to each of your arms, out of the castle and into the chilly night air, the sound of owls tweeting above you. When they see how cold you are, they each wrap a bit of their scarves around your neck and pretty much tie the three of you together.

Once you finally reach the sweet shop, the smell of warm vanilla, of pumpkin spice and fresh caramel makes you feel a little better about how cold you are. Plus, Fred and George insist on buying any candy you pick out.

They don’t tell you, but they slip a few Canary Creams, Nosebleed Nougats and a few other of their creations into your sweet pile once you had all returned, shaking, into the Common Room. You had run upstairs to grab the jumper Molly had knitted you for Halloween when they dumped them into your pile - a nice fire orange jumper, with little pumpkins on it to match the ones she had made for Fred and George. You were family, after all.

Once the three of you sat down to tuck into your goods, you should have noticed something was up by the way they slightly elbowed each other and kept on grinning wildly. Especially, you thought after, since you had always been their sweet tester since first year.

They didn’t find it so funny, however, when you started sneezing fire and set their trousers on fire.

‘That one needs some work, Fred.’

‘Wicked.’

All of you looking forward to the Hallowe’en feast in the evening! You rush into the Great Hall a bit late, having spent so long dumping Butterbeer and hitting their clothes with whatever old cushion you could find to put out the fire. You shove Fred out of the way, sliding in and taking your normal seat on the bench in between the two twins, smiling at Hermione who sits opposite. The three of you bunch together, gazing hungrily at the feast: the stuffed pumpkins, the caramel and chocolate sprinkled apples, the black cauldrons full of candy, the carrot cake, the pumpkin juice, all laying spread out in front of you.

If Hermione had thought Ron was bad, you, Fred and George were the worst at this time of the year. You keep stealing pasties from each other’s plates, and you always half stumble, half shuffle, and completely leaning on each other out of the Hall after dinner, your pockets overflowing with lollipops and sweets.

Dumbledore gives you an approving nod and wink as you exit.

The night ends with the six of you lying sprawled out on the Common Room rug, Harry telling scary stories about the Dursleys. You have your head on Fred’s stomach, and George has his on yours (although sometimes you have to shove him off due to your stomach ache). There’s only the flickering flames of the fire, and a few dripping candles dotted around the tables to illuminate your faces, so when Lee Jordan comes through the portrait hole, the whole lot of you start screaming.

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Oh my god they were roommates part 3

You are forced to take over the monitoring of Loki. Snapshots from the life of being a god handler.

It’s weird how a phrase or sentence can inspire a whole story. In this case it was “A polished turd is a turd nonetheless.” This is what grew from it. The whole story is almost 13.000 words long, so I felt I had to split it into parts. 

The next part will be the last part, and I’m hoping I’ll get around to posting it tomorrow.

If you like it, let me know. Knowing that people enjoy my writing is what keeps me posting my stories.

Word count: 2299

Part one   Part two

_______________________________________________________________________

The months passed quickly as you and Loki settled into a sort of quiet routine together. You learned a lot about him; his favourite books, that he preferred the autumn to the summer, and that he was surprisingly gentle if you only allowed him to be.

Another thing you learned quickly was that Loki preferred a savoury breakfast. He was usually up before you anyway, and had eggs and bacon ready when you stumbled into the kitchen fantasising about extra strong coffee.

But every now and then you woke early, either because you had extra work to do, or simply because you couldn’t sleep, and then you made pancakes. The first time that happened, Loki scoffed.

“Pancakes are a dessert, Y/N. Not a breakfast food.”

Shrugging, you continued cutting berries into halves. “Well then, Loki, let’s be adults and have dessert for breakfast. What’s stopping us? I mean, if you aren’t.”

Rolling his eyes, Loki looked at you as if you were crazy, but he sat down to eat anyway, and by the second pancake he was positively glowing.

Once you were full and had moved to the living room again, you decided to get some work done. Having a home office was a plus with this new mission. You didn’t even want to think about the looks from the other agents in the office if you had to come in every day.

“Hey, I read a book I think you’ll like,” you said, producing a battered soft cover from your bag and tossing it at Loki.

Of course he caught it just before it hit his head. Sharp reflexes were another skill you noted behind your ear. “Something from the Nightside?” He frowned, turning the book over to read the back. After a short silence, he opened it to the first page. “Thank you.” You heard nothing much from him for the rest of the day, but when the clock struck five, he asked you if you had book number two too.

_______________________________________________________________________

Loki looked like a thundercloud, even more so than he used to. His eyes were dark grey, and his face was drawn. He had pulled his lips into a tight sneer that never seemed to loosen, and when he moved through the flat, it sounded like he was trying to stomp the pictures off the walls.

You tried to mind your own business, as you usually did when he had these little moods, but this time he was infecting you as well. By lunchtime you were both on the verge of war.

After his fifth groan in the span of two minutes, you walked over and sat down on the sofa next to him. “Bad day?” It was obvious, but you had to try to be understanding if you were going to get through the day alive.

“You could say that. I’ve got a headache that would even put a frost giant to shame. And yes, I am aware of the irony in that. Don’t talk to me.”

You let out a small huff; surprised he was even answering, let alone giving you a reason. “Oh. Should I go get a –“

“No. I’ve tried everything. Nothing works. After the… incident in 2012, my head sometimes feels like it’s about to implode.” He rubbed his eyes and got up.

“Wait,” you said, your own frustrations dissipating fast, pulling him back down by his sleeve. “May I try something? My sister used to get these horrible migraines and the only thing that helped was when… I played with her hair.” It sounded silly, and you cringed having suggested it to a man who were considered a god by some.

“Fine. Why not?” He shrugged and scooted closer to you.

You blinked. He was really that desperate. That headache must really be of another world. “Wait here,” you muttered and went to close the curtains. On your way back, you flicked off the light too. The darkness was almost complete, and the only thing providing some light for you to navigate by was the blinking green light from the internet router behind the TV.

Keeping your voice as airy and light as you could, you climbed onto the backrest of the sofa and asked Loki to lean on your knees. “Close your eyes if you can. And let me know if I pull too hard.” As gently as you could, you separated his hair into equal parts. It was softer than you had expected, and you let it glide over your fingers before gathering it in your hand again. Suddenly you had an inexplicable urge to sniff it, but you resisted, and started braiding instead.

Small warrior style braids on the side of his head met larger ones in the back, and once all of his hair was done, you ran your fingers through and loosened it again. Twisting a lock into a knot, then releasing it again made him sigh loudly. Combing your hands up through his hair and running your fingers over his scalp had him sag against your knees. You smiled.

You had played with his hair for over an hour, and to be honest you had forgotten that it was supposed to be for his benefit, not yours. It was just that his hair was so incredibly silky and luxurious to touch that you lost yourself completely in the sensation. It wasn’t until his head lolled over and rested heavily on your knees and thighs that you returned to reality.

Loki had fallen asleep while you played, and the peaceful look in his face made you all tingly and warm inside. Without jostling him too much, you slid out from underneath him and lowered him back on the sofa. He sniffed and clutched a cushion to his chest with a tiny, tiny smile. Fighting the urge to go get your phone to snap a picture, you grabbed the nearest blanket and draped it over him. It was your time to make lunch anyway.

_______________________________________________________________________

You stumbled through the door, knocking over the umbrella stand, a pair of wellingtons, and the coat stand, scattering jackets and scarves all over the floor. “Shhh…” you hissed, gesturing to the pile of clothes before clutching your mouth gingerly. “Owww.”

“Isn’t it a bit early to be drunk, Y/N? While I completely understand, I thought it was generally frowned upon to drink in the daytime.” Loki was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning on the frame with a spatula in his hand.

“Not drunk.” Rubbing your jaw, you felt tears pool in your eyes. Great! Now you were crying too.

Taking you by the arm, Loki supported you into the living room, making sure you were comfortable on the sofa before stepping away, his face stiff and cold. “What happened? Who did this to you? Were you on a mission? I thought you had desk duty while minding me.”

You shook your head, but that made you dizzy, so you stopped. As you opened your mouth to answer, a long string of saliva dripped out. Your ears burned as you wiped your mouth on your sleeve. “Dentist.”

Loki frowned.

“Had to fix a cavity,” you muttered, sinking deeper into the soft cushions. “Don’t react too good to local anaesthesia. Fuzzy,” you added, tapping the side of your face with a languid finger. “Sleep?”

Loki nodded. “Yes. Maybe you’ll be more comfortable in your bed?” he asked, but you were already snoring. Smiling to himself, he fetched a blanket and draped it over you and brushed away a stray lock of hair from your eyes. “Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

A couple of hours later you woke up feeling like someone had punched you in the face. Your jaw was pounding, and the corner of your mouth felt stretched and cracked. Groaning, you pulled the blanket over your head, dreading the short walk to the kitchen for water and painkillers.

When the pain got too much to endure anymore, and you decided you would finally brave the walk, you carefully sat up, sliding your legs over the edge of the sofa. The movement made your head swim, but you steeled yourself.

Giving yourself an extra push to get up, you noticed a glass of water and two aspirin on the table. “Huh. Past me was pretty smart. I’m amazed I had the awareness to even find this,” you muttered.

_______________________________________________________________________

You had lived together for almost a year. It was a comfortable partnership, and you had found you really liked Loki. His calm demeanour and creative humour was a welcome contrast to the monotonous days in the office. Whenever you had the opportunity, you opted to work from home.

“I’m heading out. You want something from the shops?” Loki called from the door.

Jumping out of your chair, you tried to stop him. “Hey wait up!” You hobbled after him, trying to pull on your boots while walking.

He turned around, looking inconvenienced as always. When you caught up with him, he grimaced, picking a piece of lint off your jumper. “What?”

You smiled and finally managed to wrestle your foot down into the boot. “Nothing. Just figured I’d come with you. Can’t have a repeat of the Chocolate Incident.” You made a show of shuddering, exaggerating both movement and sound.

“Right,” Loki replied with a roll of his eyes, but there was a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. “The Chocolate Incident.”

The memory made you both wince and smile. It seemed so long ago now, just after you had moved in: you had woken up from your back aching, making it difficult to turn over in the bed, and as you lay there trying to ignore the pain, another one punched you in the guts. Days like these were the worst.

Sliding out of the bed, you pulled on a pair of grey sweatpants and wrapped yourself in the blanket, not bothering with changing out of your sleep shirt. Your hair fell in knotted tufts in your face. Blowing them away didn’t help, so you let them be and continued to the kitchen.

You stopped in the door, watching as Loki cooked. With a sigh you entered the room: you really just wanted to be alone and wallow in self-pity. This was not a situation that had crossed your mind when you had been forced to volunteer for the mission.

Loki turned around, on his way to put a spatula in the dishwasher when he spotted you. “Good grief. Are you sick?” He looked at you with distant concern, and you felt tears pool in your eyes.

Blinking them away, you shook your head to buy your voice enough time. “Shark week,” you muttered.

He frowned and tilted his head. “I don’t really see how a TV programme has anything to do with your condition. Do you want me to call a doctor?”

Sighing again, you rolled your eyes, not wanting to have to explain. “I’ll be okay. Just gimme the chocolate in the back of the small cupboard and nobody gets hurt. My back hurts like a motherfucker, and satan’s waterfall isn’t making things any better,” you said, gesturing to the general area of concern.

“What? …oh.” With that realisation he turned to the cupboard in question. “Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate…” For a moment he was silent, moving the other contents around on the shelf before freezing. “Oh. That chocolate.” He sucked air through his teeth and turned slowly to face you. “I… am truly sorry,” he said, and his face showed exactly that.  “When I could not sleep the other night, I… Had I known it was your… time, I would have replaced it immediately.”

You groaned to stop yourself from crying, and turned dramatically on your heels. Marching through the hallway, you growled: “I’ll be in my room if you need me. Don’t disturb me unless it’s an emergency.”

There was a half eaten packet of Twizzlers in the bedside table, and luckily you had a handful of painkillers, but you weren’t going to forgive Loki anytime soon. That chocolate was your favourite, and it was notoriously hard to find, so when you did find it, you hoarded and saved it for difficult days. Like this day.

Shaking yourself out of the memory, you smiled to Loki and followed him down the stairs.

Loki’s preferred shop was just around the corner; a medium sized shop with an amazing fresh produce section, and you liked it because they had several aisles of candy.

“Hey, can we get PopTarts?”

Loki turned, looking like an exasperated parent dealing with an annoying kid.  “Absolutely not!”

“Aw, why?” you pouted.

“Because that’s a sure way to attract my brother, and I am not in the mood to deal with him these days.”

“Ooh. I’d love to meet Thor some day,” you thought out loud.

Loki glared at you.

Holding up your hands, you smiled apologetically. “Okay, okay. But then we have to buy cookies.”

Loki sighed and shook his head in defeat. “Why do you have to be so happy all the time?”

“Because we’re shopping for candy.”

“We’re not just shopping for candy. What do you want for dinner?”

Your eyes lit up. You didn’t often get to choose. “Spaghetti.”

“Again?” He made a weird face, but put a packet of pasta in the shopping basket.

You stuck out your tongue. “So I like pasta. Sue me.”

“Don’t think that would do any good,” he snickered, continuing to the next aisle. “Pretty sure they’d rule in your favour.”

A distant rumble made you both stop in your tracks. Another one came, followed by a loud chime from your phone. The chocolate in your hand was immediately forgotten when you read the text: “Code RED. Report to HQ.”

Part four 

_______________________________________________________________________

@80percentmarvel @tardis-is-mine @schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte @jessiejunebug @thefuriousquake @wolfgar15

[johnny-and-dora]

i’ll hold your hands, they’re just like ice

“I was thinking about...our kids. Our future kids, I mean.” He says, still determinedly fixated on the window, and Amy feels herself completely melt.

or, the one where jake & amy have a snow day. (festive fluff - happy holidays!)

read on ao3

-

There’s a certain way that Amy Santiago expects to wake up on a Tuesday morning in late December.

It involves her eyes gently flitting open to the tuneful, familiar vibrato of her trusty alarm clock at 7am . It involves slowly unfurling herself from her cocoon of blankets, skimming through the news on her phone, scrolling through the comments on her laminating blog.

 For the past four years, it’s also slowly come to involve the love of her life sprawled next to her - usually finding increasingly creative ways to enable the snooze on Amy’s many, many alarms and trying his hardest to tempt her back to bed for five more minutes.

(She can roll her eyes all she wants, but she can’t deny that Jake’s methods usually prove very effective before she can finally lure him up with a forehead kiss and the promise of coffee.)

The almost sub-zero temperatures – and, of course, the always warm hands and soft puppy-dog brown eyes of her husband – never fail to make sticking to her perfected December routine a reasonably difficult task to fulfil. But Amy loves her schedule almost as much as she loves Jake Peralta, and so it’s a routine that she rarely breaks, even when everything outside of the comfort of their bed feels like some kind of barren icy hellscape.

So it’s a surprise, then, when she’s woken up on a Tuesday morning in late December by the unmistakable sound of chaos coming from the kitchen, a picturesque pale sunrise framed by the windows that tells her it’s far too late to be 7am, and an empty space next to her where Jake should be.

Amy can’t lie; for one, hideous, jarring second, she panics. Still disorientated by sleep, she can feel horribly familiar dread rising in her throat at the horribly familiar emptiness of his side of the bed – but then she feels the body warmth still radiating from the sheets, and her ears tune to his voice belting Mariah Carey in the next room, and she relaxes. She chides herself for falling into old habits so easily, grateful that they’re merely old habits now.

Her rings glint on the bedside table – a promise of forever she’s more thankful for than most - and she quietly slips them on, smiling softly as she wraps up in a makeshift blanket cape and makes her way towards the kitchen.

Jake’s not going anywhere, and neither is she.

She leans in the doorway, instantly feeling lighter at the spectacular sight of her husband, dressed in pyjamas and a bright red Santa hat, fully engrossed in singing along to cheesy Christmas songs with intense passion while he makes pancakes and coffee. She isn’t completely sure she isn’t still dreaming.

Amy fondly watches him for a minute, unnoticed, weighing up the entertainment value of scaring the shit out of him against using him as her personal space heater– she eventually goes with the latter, draping her arms around his waist in lieu of a greeting. Melting into him from behind as she rests her chin on his shoulder, she feels his laugh vibrate through the both of them and immediately feels a hundred times warmer.

“Hey, babe. Enjoy your lie in?”

“Mmph. You’re warm.”

He turns around and she cups his face with her hands, tilting her head up to kiss him.

When they break apart, he smiles at her in that stupid fond way; and she can’t help it. She forgets about how cold it is and forgets her anxiety about work and being late and pretty much everything else in the universe except his stupid face, because it’s stupid and adorable and she could probably spend all day kissing it if she could.

He takes her hands in his; interlacing their fingers and trying not to grimace at how freezing she inevitably is.

“You are...so cold. How are you always so cold? Are you a reptile? Have I married into some kind of secret underground lizard mafia? Are you going to drain my blood and steal my heat?” Amy rolls her eyes.

“Yes, Jake. You got me. I’m only here because I want to steal your heat.” She says, deadpan, and Jake waves a triumphant finger like he’s just solved a case. 

“I knew it! I’m the best detective.” He squeezes her hands fondly before letting them go to return to the stove. She pours freshly made coffee into two mugs and takes a sip from one, leaning back against the counter and watching Jake work, humming along to the radio.

“I’d ask if you wanted to help me with these but I presume you want our kitchen to remain not on fire.”

“Ha ha.” They stay like that for a few minutes, Amy stifling laughter as he overdramatically flips the pancakes in sync to the music - but now that she’s less frozen and can actually focus, a glance at the clock creeps uneasiness at the break in her routine back into her system.

“Wait, aren’t we...super late for work? Our shift started an hour ago.”

She tries and miserably fails to sound nonchalant at the idea of not being punctual - Jake turns around to raise an eyebrow at her and she makes a face at him. Childish distracting marriage it is.

“...Have you not looked outside since you woke up?”

“No...” Amy tugs her blanket cape around her a little defensively and he smiles, gesturing to the kitchen window with his spatula like a wizard waving a wand. She makes her way over to the window, half-expecting to see some kind of post hurricane apocalypse devastation she somehow slept through...

...and instead it’s just the familiar view of the downtown Brooklyn apartment building across from theirs, perfectly intact – and buried by at least six inches of pure, white snow. Everywhere she looks is blanketed in white, like the entire city has been dusted with icing sugar. The entire scene looks like the backdrop of the Christmas card they got from her parents this year – it’s breathtaking.

She turns back to Jake with wonder glowing in her face, warming at the childlike glint in his eyes and his goofy, eager wide grin.

“Snow day!” He declares excitedly, plate of pancakes in each hand, and Amy can’t help but smile.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I know – and even better, city stopping. Holt sent a text telling us not to bother coming in an hour ago –the night shift are covering us seeing as we can’t get there and they can’t leave.”

“So?” “So, I woke up early, got way too excited at said snow, knew we weren’t going anywhere and shut off all your alarms so you could actually have a lie in.” He grins, and not even for the first time that morning she wonders how she got so lucky.

“I love you.”

“Love you too. The point is, everyone’s way too distracted by the snow for any crime to occur, which means we get a day off, which means –“ He hands her a plate – “celebratory snow day pancakes!”

Amy laughs and starts to eat, fondly watching from the window as the big family from the third floor that always send them a card run outside to pelt each other with snowballs. Jake puts one arm around her and she rests her head on his shoulder, blissfully content.

The snowball fight escalates after a few minutes, the kids engaged in an all out war with the parents even joining in, and Jake becomes immersed in it like it’s one of her mother’s favourite telenovelas.

At first she thinks he’s trying to figure out which kid to place a bet on winning (her money’s on the girl with the red scarf and the powerful throwing arm) but when she actually studies his expression it’s all wistful and dreamy, and she can tell he’s far away. She nudges him gently.

“What’re you thinking about?” Amy asks, half concerned and half curious. Their empty plates and coffee mugs are discarded on the kitchen counter, radio turned down to a quiet hum of vaguely festive themed white noise, both of them still fixated on the snow outside.

“Nothing.” He says, unconvincingly, and she has to remind herself not to use her interrogation room voice on her husband.

“You’re always thinking about something, Jake. Usually about fifty different things at once.” He exhales a short laugh at that, looking at her with such pure affection it almost sweeps her off her feet.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s just...embarrassing. And sappy.”

“I like embarrassing and sappy.” She smiles, gently pushing him to open up – but he just shakes his head in response, gaze returning to the window where they both watch the dad pick one of his kids up and spin them round, laughing.

A few years ago she would have determinedly kept pushing further - but now Amy stays silent, the (fairly recent) luxury of knowing that he’ll open up sooner or later not lost on her. It only takes a minute before he speaks again.

“I was thinking about...our kids. Our future kids, I mean.” He says, still determinedly fixated on the window, and Amy feels herself completely melt.

“Oh.” “Yeah. Just...days like this, where we could go out and play in the snow...and they’d be wrapped up in like fifty different layers from head to toe, just like you, running around in cute little hats and scarves and coats...and we’d have snowball fights and build snowmen and then afterwards come inside and have hot cocoa and fall asleep watching cheesy Christmas movies on the sofa. I’d...I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” She prompts gently, her heart swelling at the picture now in her head. She’s thought about it too, of course, now more than ever – buying presents for her seemingly endless nephews and nieces, seeing Gina’s seemingly endless pictures of Iggy in adorable little jumpers and tiny bedazzled mittens, dodging her mom’s near constant invasive questions about grandchildren despite the six she has already.

She’s already far too excited for their first Christmas as a married couple, preparing for a few nights spent crammed into the usual cabin upstate with the whole family. It’s going to be complete chaos. She can’t wait.

“Yeah. Not right now, because I still like having you all to myself way too much...but soon. One day. I just...I really want...” He trails off but he doesn’t need to say any more – she hopes how she squeezes his hand is enough of an answer. They’ve talked about this a lot, even more so since getting married.

Not now, but soon. Not if, but when.

“Me too.” Amy says, trying very hard not to spoil a perfect and romantic moment by crying at how much she loves her husband, burying her head deeper into the fabric of his sleeve so that he won’t notice. He kisses the top of her head and she can tell they’re both thinking about the same thing, warmth spreading through her whole body at the thought of soon sharing the holidays with kids of their own.

She could never picture having kids so easily until they’d been together for a while and she realised she just couldn’t have had them with anyone else. He’s always had a way of altering her life calendar in ways she couldn’t possibly expect, and she doesn’t think he’ll ever stop doing it.

Amy just hopes to God that they won’t inherit his eyes, because otherwise they’ll probably be able to get away with anything.

Like getting to her to go out in the snow, for example – she’s basically resigned to her fate as soon as she sees Jake looking longingly as the picturesque winter painting outside their window.

“You want us to go out there, don’t you.” She says grimly, almost physically shivering in anticipation of how cold it is. He turns to look at her in mock offense, eyes glinting.  

“Amy Santiago-Peralta, don’t tell me we’re not going out in the snow. You love snow!”

“I love the idea of snow, in theory. In practise it’s cold and wet and gives you an excuse to throw things that are cold and wet at me.”

“...You also get to throw cold and wet things at me?” He offers as a tempting incentive, and she sighs, taking one last glance outside – even she has to admit, it looks beautiful out there.

“Fine.” She says, resignedly, and it’s almost worth it for the gleeful look on his face as he speeds out of the kitchen to get dressed. She pads out of the kitchen after him, glancing at their beautifully (and haphazardly, due to the chaotic nature of her husband’s artistic visions) decorated tree.

Suddenly, Amy can’t help imagining toys in bright colourful wrapping paper and bright twinkling fairy lights, the adorable pitter-patter of tiny excitable footsteps waking them up far too early on Christmas morning, leaving treats out for Santa, baking Christmas cookies together as a family. She smiles brightly, wondering when that picture got so vivid, wondering how soon that might become a reality.

Amy has a feeling that, very soon, maybe even this time next year, it’s going to get even harder to stick to her usual Tuesday morning in late December routine.

She can’t wait.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

10 and 13 please please please 😌

@poppy27 and all who requested 10 and 12 here they are! I combined them since they are related. And a bonus slightly creepy but sweet Simon one.

and yes I���m still working on #13. That’s been the most challenging one so far!

10: What sorts of things would they give each other “just because”?

12: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

1.

Baz

One of the particulars I noticed about Snow, that first night in our room, after the Crucible had encumbered me with him (burdened me with his mole-dotted skin, ordinary blue eyes, bronze dusted hair) was how few possessions he had brought to Watford with him.

Worn trainers on his feet. A scant number of ratty t-shirts. A few threadbare trackie bottoms. That fucking red ball.

That was it. Not another bloody thing.

It’s not like I brought much with me. Uniforms, text books, notepads, writing utensils—all were provided to us.

I’d packed some clothes. Pajamas, of course. A few favorite books. A tiny, contraband iPod Fiona had lent me the summer before (discreetly hidden in the depths of my closet, thanks to the Mage’s ludicrous ban on electronics.)

Over the years more items traveled to Watford with me. More books, naturally. Some family photographs (Mordelia was an exceptionally ugly baby) (She’s marginally better now) (it would be devilish hard to look any worse.)

By fifth year there were posters, meticulously confined to my side of the room. Some abysmal drawing Mordelia had made for me that I kept spelled to the wall. A whole shelf of books.

And Fiona’s old lava lamp, for the sheer ridiculousness of it (it was mesmerizing) (and retro) (and I liked to spell it different colours.)

Snow never added anything. Other than larger sizes of the items he’d brought with him initially. And a winter coat. A few nice jumpers, after he started spending Christmases with the Wellbeloves.

No personal effects. No books. No photographs.

At least he got rid of that fucking ball.

It took me years to understand. To realize he went into care every summer, wasn’t with the Mage as I thought. To recognize that he couldn’t afford or even really risk owning anything of value.

It was much the same when I helped him move into the flat with Bunce earlier this year (I did help, no matter what Snow says) (I supervised) (Someone had to.)

Most of their furnishings were tatty cast offs from Bunce’s family home.  Some mystical wall art that she had found in Camden. A mismatched selection of mugs and tableware. Typical uni apartment.

But Snow’s bedroom was so sparse. Just like his side of the room had been at Watford. A bed. A desk. A lamp on a rickety nightstand. A dresser with virtually empty drawers.

Blank walls.

It’s not like that now, no thanks to Snow.

It’s not like he doesn’t have money. Bunce finally convinced him to do something with that sack of leprechaun gold. I took him to a Normal bank, helped him open an account and the bank helpfully converted the gold to legal tender.

It’s a tidy sum. Enough for him to indulge himself a bit.

He doesn’t.

So, I do.

It started before he moved to London. Those weekends second term, when I would visit him at the Bunces.

When he was all long silences and thousand-yard stares.

I held his hand and tried to distract him. Dinner dates. Film nights. Clothes shopping.

I bloody adore taking Simon clothes shopping. He has no idea how fucking attractive he is. Buying him fitted shirts and tailored jeans is as much a gift to myself as it is to him.

I can’t help it.

I think of him when he’s not with me.

I’ll walk by a shop and see a shirt that reminds me of the color of his eyes.

Strolling through a bookshop I’ll find a title I actually think he might like.

A peculiar trinket will catch my eye at a street market and I know he’ll be captivated by it.

I buy them all for him.

Even my old lava lamp has taken up residence on his dresser.

Bunce says Simon’s room looks like a tatty shop stall from Spitalfields Market. It looks nothing of the sort. She’s prone to slanderous hyperbole.

What it looks like is home.

2.

Simon

I’m not sure what I love best about living in London. Rooming with Penny. Getting to see Baz every day (and most nights) (almost like when we were roommates) (but better.) Going to uni. Exploring the city. All the food.

The variety of food is astonishing. There’s posh restaurants and so many curry take-out shops. Neighbourhood pubs. All the street markets.

I don’t know if I like Borough Market or Camden Market best. Or Maltby Street. Or Brockley.

I love them all.

I’m only taking two classes per term this year. My therapist thought that would be plenty, with all that I’m trying to sort through right now. Uni’s been very understanding and accommodating about it all. My therapist sent a letter and spoke with the dean.

Professor Bunce mentioned Metropolitan first, when I was still living with them. Said she knew they had some pathway that wasn’t full-time to start.

But I think Baz’s father had something to do with it too. Baz had dragged me along, to their family lodge near Oxford, for a weekend visit soon after he’d left Watford.

I hadn’t really seen the Grimms much since I’d run away from them, the night the Humdrum had attacked Baz. The night I’d extinguished all the magic for miles around their home.

Well, I’d seen Mr. Grimm, at the Coven meetings investigating the death of the Mage. He’d not said much to me, just gripped my shoulder a few times and said “Simon” and nodded at me.

It wasn’t much. But it helped. Helped to know he didn’t hate me for the hole in Hampshire. For driving them all out of their home. For being with his son.

It was just a quiet encouragement, something I’d never expected from him.

But when Baz took me to Oxford with him, to tell his father he would rather be staked than go to uni there, to tell his father he was moving to London with me, I was anxious.

I was going bloody mental.

So of course, being me, I started babbling on at dinner about moving to London, living with Penny, our fourth floor flat, what my therapist had said about uni. Just nattering on, face turning red, hands shaking but unable to stop the fumbling words coming out of my mouth.

Baz, the prat, just looked at me with one eyebrow raised and a half-smile. Bloody twat. He could have cut in and stopped me any time.

Mr. Grimm looked a little glassy-eyed and Daphne had a fixed smile on her face. I finally took a large swig from my water glass and stopped talking.

“That’s … that’s very interesting to hear, Simon.” Mr. Grimm’s face was impassive. “Have you thought about where you might like to study?”

“London’s got so many options,” Daphne added helpfully.

“Uh, Professor Bunce mentioned Metropolitan. Said it’s got some flexibility, with part-time programs and such.” My face was flaming. Baz’s hand slipped into mine and I could breathe a little easier.

“I’m familiar with it. Sebastian is there, Baz. You remember him?”

And then they’d moved the conversation on and I’d slumped back in my chair and taken another helping of pudding.

But a few weeks after I applied to Metropolitan I received a letter from a Mr. Sebastian Palmer-Lloyd, informing me that I was approved for a part-time pathway and providing information on a scholarship he felt I was qualified for, if I filled out the appropriate paperwork.

I think Mr. Grimm arranged it all.

I haven’t dared ask him or attempted to thank him directly.

Baz said not to worry about it, when I asked him what to do. Said his father wouldn’t want me to mention it. He had an odd expression, when I told him about the letter. A distant, fond look.

I don’t think it was for me, though. I think he was thinking of his father.

So that’s how I ended up at London Metropolitan. With only two classes per term. I got that scholarship. I’ve got tutors and a foundation year advisor who stays in touch with my therapist and is surprisingly helpful to me.

Which means I’ve got a fair bit more free time than Baz and Penny.

Which is why I’m wandering through the market on this blustery Thursday. I’ve had a kebab and an ice cream so far. There’s a stand with baked goods that look wonderfully appetizing. Might take some home for later.

I’m strolling along, eyes darting from the food stalls to the art displays when I see the table across the way. The wind’s picked up and my ears are getting a bit cold. It’s not even the end of October. It’s shouldn’t be this blustery yet.

The table is covered with woolen hats and mittens and scarves. Bright colors, soft jewel tones, dark greys and browns. They’re soft and thick and look so very warm.

I don’t wear gloves much. Or hats. Get too hot still, even without the magic. I’m like a personal space heater, Baz says.

Baz gets cold. He’ll whinge about it tonight, how the temperature’s dropped today. But he still doesn’t do a bloody thing about it. Still wears his posh tailored wool coats, his thin leather gloves. He wears scarves but only because he thinks they make him look mysterious and aristocratic. He looks bloody gorgeous in them but I’ll not tell him that.

I will. I have. I can’t help myself.

Baz won’t wear a hat. He wore the boater at Watford because it was required (he loathed it) but once we didn’t have to wear them anymore he wouldn’t wear any type at all. Not even in the frigid depths of winter. Thinks they make his hair look bad, the tosser.

He’ll wear gloves but the ones he has now are useless. Thin leather ones, no good at keeping his fingers warm at all.  I should know. I hold his hand constantly.

I thought he had lined ones, when we were at Watford. I’m sure of it. I remember seeing him putting them on before he’d go to his violin practice. Cashmere lined, I’m sure.

They must be at his place. I’ll have to see if I can dig them up when I’m over there next. It’s only going to get colder.

I run my finger over a pair of mittens. They’re so many—simple knit ones, ones with a flap you can flip over to free up your fingers, ones made from cozy old jumpers and lined with fleece.

Mittens would surely keep Baz’s hands warm.

I find a simple charcoal grey pair with a thick, warm lining. They’re trim and neat, subdued and sedate.

He’ll still find something to complain about but at least his hands will be warm while he does.

3. Bonus Simon slightly creepy ficlet

Simon

Taking only two classes means I’ve a lot more free time than Baz and Penny.

I don’t have class today but I’m up early, as always.

Baz spent the night at his place. Had a paper due today so he didn’t make it over. Probably for the best. He doesn’t have class ‘til noon today. We usually just stay in bed all morning when he sleeps over on Wednesday nights.

But I’ve got plans for the day and an early start is what I need.

London is the best place I’ve lived, other than Watford. There’s so much to do, to see, to explore.

It’s not great for hunting though. At least not for the kind of hunting Baz does. The non-human hunting.

London’s probably more like an all-you-can-eat buffet for the regular vampire types.

But Baz isn’t a regular vampire. He argues with me about it but he’s more human than vampire. Always has been. All that rubbish about being half-dead. It’s all rot.

He’s basically a human with a taste for blood.

But it’s a bit sparse here in the city for him. There’re rats, yeah, but not as concentrated in one place, like they were at Watford.

Places where they do congregate aren’t places I want Baz going to alone. I know he’s got super strength and super speed and whatnot but I still don’t fancy him lurking in Hackney in the middle of the night.

London’s not even in the top twenty rat-infested areas of Britain (yes, I looked it up) (Research.) There are some right big ones in Hackney but it doesn’t even make the list.

There’s a fair amount of birds but they’re a bit dodgy to catch and Baz isn’t too fond of them. There’s deer in Richmond and Greenwich but it’s not that easy to drop a deer in the middle of London, even at night. There’re people around all the time.

You can find badgers in some of the parks but Baz says they’re an endangered species so they’re off limits. That’s taking it a bit far if you ask me. What’s one badger, here and there?

Baz draws the line at bats too. I tease him about that. He’s just too fastidious. Drives me mental. He’s got to feed somehow.

Odd thing is he’s not needing to feed near as often. He used to feed almost every night, he would, at Watford. But since last term he can go two days or sometimes even three and not be worse for the wear. I’m not complaining, mind you, but it’s odd.

Maybe the whole Numpty incident reset his vampiric metabolism? I don’t know. I’m no expert on vampires.

Probably more of an expert than most. On one particular vampire.

So anyway, feedings have been a bit chancy for Baz now that he’s in the city. He’s made do with rats and pigeons, the occasional deer if he can manage it.

He lets me go with him, mostly, now. At least when he hunts for deer. I’m good at lookout, making sure no one’s about, distracting people if I need. Gives him a few moments undisturbed it does.

Even with his altered metabolism it’s still not ideal. He needs a more consistent supply. He’s got a heavy class load. He can’t be out all night trying to feed.

Tried dried blood. I found it on Amazon, of all places. It’s mainly for making blood pudding. Thought it would work all right.

Baz hates it. Made him gag, it did. Says it smells funny and has a chemical aftertaste. Probably all the preservatives. Used it in emergencies a few times, like when it snowed for three days straight in February.

I found some in an Asian market. In the freezer section. I swear to Merlin I had no idea you could get frozen blood in a grocery store.

I’d actually found the place on some Reddit forum on blood pudding. I keep having to clear my browser history. Don’t know what my classmates would think if they saw the searches for blood products on my laptop. Think I’m mental or part of some cult, I’m sure.

The frozen blood wasn’t much good either. Something about the freezing process and coagulation and whatnot. Baz and Penny went on and on about it. I couldn’t follow it all. Just crossed frozen blood off the list of options.

This one Asian market in Catford had fresh blood. Thank you, Reddit. I got a tub of it and brought it home on the tube. Lid must have loosened up at some point. Ended up with the front of my shirt all soaked in it. Looked a nightmare I did.

Walked into the flat and Penny took one look at me and started shrieking about Goblins.

I haven’t seen Baz look that frightened since … since the whole Weeping Tower incident.

He looked terrified. Face shades paler than usual, nostrils flaring, pupils blown, eyes wide and fixed on the bloodstain on my shirt. His fangs popped (I can tell) (His cheeks puff up.)

And then he was right there, running his hands over me, searching for a wound or injury or some such. Got blood all over his hands, patting me down like that.

It took some time for everyone to settle. I hadn’t realized what I looked like, big blood stain in the middle of my chest and splatters of blood on my hands where I’d snapped the lid back on.

Thought I’d been attacked, is what they thought. The Goblins still think I’m fair game so I suppose Penny and Baz had a point.

I put the tub of blood in the refrigerator and went to take a shower. I think Baz burned my shirt. I don’t know why they didn’t “out, out damn spot”it. That should get blood out.

I kind of liked that shirt. But I don’t think Baz or Penny were quite rational at that moment. It’s their biggest fear for me, played out, now that I don’t have magic anymore.

Took me half the night to get Baz settled down enough to try the blood.

Better than the dried blood for certain. Better than the frozen too. Not sure how I was going to manage transporting it back and forth from Catford without another disaster like this one.

Got a big thermos is what I did. Went back a week later but they didn’t have any in stock. Finally got some a few weeks later and transported it home without incident. Thermos did the trick.

Their supply isn’t that reliable. I’m on their list to call when they have it now. The owner thinks I’m some private chef who specializes in blood sausage. The language barrier helps keep them from asking too many questions.

So that’s what I’m up to today. I’ve got a list of butcher shops I called Monday that said they get fresh blood every so often. I’m going round to see if they look reputable and clean. Won’t be getting dodgy supplies for Baz.

I’m hoping if I find enough suppliers I put them in a rotation of sorts. You know something like Catford first Friday of the month, Ealing every other Thursday, Camden on alternate Tuesdays. Something like that. So I’ve always got a supply on hand for Baz.

Keep him from having to prowl around as much at night, especially once it gets cold again. Keeps him out of the dodgier neighborhoods too.

It’s almost six by the time I get home. I’ve got a list and dates and I’m going to put it on a spreadsheet to keep it all organized.

I’ve got two thermoses in my backpack so that’s all right then. I tuck them into the small refrigerator under my desk and head to the shower.

It’s almost eight by the time Baz texts me that he’s on his way over. I’ve got the spreadsheet all done and put the pick-up reminders in my phone.

He’s going to fuss about it all. Baz doesn’t deny it, like he used to, but he still hates talking about it. So I won’t say much. Just tell him I’ve found a steady supply and leave it at that. He doesn’t need to know the details.

That I went all over London today to find reputable distributors. That half of London thinks I’m a blood sausage specialist. That I set up a schedule for myself of when to get the blood. That the frig under my desk isn’t just there because I get hungry all the time.

Baz does so much for me.

I just want to do something for him.

Baz

My heart is pounding in my chest and I can't catch my breath. Simon is staring at me and I can't speak.

I've completely lost the ability to form coherent sentences and I can sense the anxiety rising in him at my continued silence.

This boy. This absolutely fucking gorgeous nightmare of a boy.

He's been fussing with different ways for me to feed for weeks now but I thought he'd finally given it a rest.

But no. I should know by now that Simon Snow perseveres and digs his heels in when faced with a conundrum.

I'm the conundrum.

I know the enormity of what he's done for me. He's minimizing it all, not telling me what I know is true.

That he's traipsed the length of London, personally scrutinizing these butcher shops. That despite his utter loathing of Excel he's put the effort in to make spread sheets--spread sheets, for Merlin's sake--to keep track of dates and times and locations. That he's volunteered himself to pick up the blood, so no one becomes suspicious of me.

Simon’s done all this for me and I'm speechless.

He’s said he loves me. I know he thinks he means it. I want to believe that Simon Snow loves me as desperately, as passionately, as absolutely as I love him.

But I've never really let myself believe it. Not until now.

And it makes me love him even more than I already did, if that's even possible.

I can feel the tears coming on so I grab Simon's shoulders and pull him towards me, burying my face in his neck, my arms tight around him.

"I love you, Simon Snow."He relaxes in my arms and pulls me closer.

"I love you, Baz."

And I know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, just how much he truly does.

[meganspoetry]

The Tree

This was my entry to the HG Wells Young Writers’ Competition but probably because I wrote it all the day I needed to submit it, it wasn’t shortlisted. I know this is a poetry blog but I guessed some people might be interested in writing as a whole and want to read my prose as well!

The overall theme is 'peace'. It contains a beach, feminist ideals, a cafe inspired by a Tumblr post, 'tis lowkey the story of a lesbian relationship (they were meant to be friends, I swear), a really cool tree and some overcomplicated metaphors. Hope you like it.

TW; death, anxiety/ panic attacks

The tree stood atop the hill like an empress, but bent with the wind like one of her slaves. It was adorned with garments – jewellery, scarves and jackets were wrapped around its branches like bandages, willing offerings from those who owned it. Those two lay beneath it, staring up at the sky; shrouded with wisps of cloud, it had been purged of any blue, and was white; one pale, unseeing eye-socket staring blindly – and most importantly, without judgement – above them. Both had their eyes closed, their lashes casting spidery shadows across their cheekbones in the greying sunlight. Curled in circles, like foetuses, the mistresses of the tree fell asleep in the warmth and shade of their privacy.

*

Dylan remembered when she had first found the tree. It had been an accident – but then, many great things had been discovered by accident. Like penicillin.

It was the day that her grandfather had died. Dylan had hated her grandfather, and had not expected to mourn him. She remembered, vaguely, him moving about when she was little, but since she had been eleven he had been in his chair. Somehow he had gradually shrunken into it, as part of the mahogany as it had been of him, until she only really viewed the man as an extension of his seat. From his corner he had creaked and groaned and grumbled about whatever had irritated his sensitive fancies, and somehow – perhaps because he had gotten to the stage where he was partly ornament – she resented his presence in the house as an encroachment. Or, perhaps, the opposite – she felt that she was intruding in her own house, and he was as part of it as the furniture. Neither her parents nor her grandfather had space for anger or stress – or humanity, really – in a daughter; in their home they wanted to unleash their own emotion, not deal with hers. So upset was met with anger and stress with punishment, until Dylan knew her home not as a safe space but really as a second school.

Home and school. Home and school. Dylan was only fifteen. She knew there was life beyond those two things, and should she squint she could see a long, winding, gold-paved path ahead, one that led to light and laughter and greater things. But at fifteen, life was a relentless monochromatic monotony of home and school.

“At least he’s at peace,” her mother had said. Dylan had held her tongue. Death did not seem like peace, at least to her; her grandfather was no angel. She could not see him amongst meringue clouds, strumming a heavenly harp, but she was not quite sure if the old man really deserved Hell. She could see him there, though, thrashing and flailing as scorching tongues held him like chains, their burning tendrils snaked around his ankles, screaming and howling and cursing to the end. Although, the less spiritual side of Dylan imagined perhaps a more rational eventuality; lying in a wooden box, motionless, decomposing. Even then she could not imagine her grandfather’s death as any kind of sleep, but a fitful, reluctant rest, his eyes awake and staring behind his closed lids. He was not a peaceful person and dying would not change that.

You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, something, perhaps a conscience, said to her.

Perhaps it was the rigidity and the routine of it all that Dylan missed, because really she could think of nothing pleasant the miserable old man in the chair had brought, but she felt the loss when she looked at the empty chair all the same. Somehow her morning rung hollow without his harsh rasp of a voice there. It was with this dreary inconvenient sense of having something taken from her which accompanied her to school – no sadness, no grief, just an irritation that life had stolen something from her – and it came out in her eyes, in her words, in her tone. And her teachers – who were all aware of “the circumstances”, no doubt – abandoned yet another expected part of life: getting in trouble. All they had to offer were voices and words which were the verbal equivalent of a tablespoon of Golden Syrup being jammed down her throat, and Dylan hated it.  The sun had lurked in the darkness, but had pounced like some great cat at lunchtime, roaring with an unexpected burst of blinding light and sudden stifling heat … Dylan had found voices and music and clinking cutlery annoying her, and she was sweating, and she was hot, and she was uncomfortable … her eyes slid and shuddered out of focus, she closed them and opened them again – it was dark … it was light … she could feel blood pumping behind her eyes – and suddenly her mind felt like it was concaving, collapsing, caged in on itself and ready to break; she could imagine it, her skull folding in on itself like paper, brain and blood, the cells a sad grey lump beside blood and shards of skull. Red wine and fine china.

It was too much. She had left school, and walked. Across the coast, through some woods. It hadn’t been a long walk, maybe thirty minutes, before she came to the clearing. It was a wide green square of grass; not grass like on lawns, preened and pruned into little lime soldiers standing straight and moist, but yellow tangles of plant that scratched at her legs. The hill was not much more than a bump, so she climbed it to look for the shade that the branches of the tree would offer, and it was then that she noticed the necklace.

It was a gold heart. Plain, simplistic, typical, but expensive; the sort of gift you’d get for a loved one you didn’t actually know that well. Dylan had stared at the chain, and then she had found herself pulling off her scarf and wrapping it around the branch too. It was an expensive scarf, silk, that her grandfather had given her.

“It was your grandmother’s,” he had said, “and now it is for you. Do you like it?”

Dylan had said she liked it, and thanked him.

“I didn’t think you would. You aren’t a woman of much taste,” was all he had said. And then he had turned away.

Her grandfather had not been a fan of denim, or plaid, or the colour mustard, or Doc Marten boots, or high-waisted jeans, or stripes, or suits on women, and when Dylan had cut her hair above her jaw his ancient pumping heart had been aghast. Dylan had somewhat liked the scarf, enjoying the wet luxury of the silk and the crimson hue, but his remark had made liking it feel like a burden. Allowing the tree to take the boulder wrapped around her neck made her feel better.

Dylan had stayed underneath the tree, within its protection, until the evening, once its shadow had crawled into the shade eclipsing the whole field. Within the grass there were blotches of colour – daisies and poppies – and though her vision was speckled with sunlight for part of the day, she found she rather enjoyed the heat when she wasn’t trapped inside a box of a room. The buzz of the crickets and the susurrus of the leaves made for far less irritating background noise than populated areas, and she found the hours spiralling away, some endless curled golden ribbon in an eternal swirl that looped back and around and endlessly. Hour after hour was ate by the grass and the sky and the crickets, her phone leaping to catch up every time she had the inclination to check it; from four to six, from six to eight.

It wasn’t until eight that she realised now was the time to search for her home. She found it, eventually, and an extremely infuriated mother, who burst into tears when Dylan told her she didn’t have her grandfather’s scarf anymore.

Dylan could not bring herself to regret it or retrieve it. Leaving the scarf behind had made something settle. She felt at peace.

*

Two days later Dylan returned to her tree to find that the gift of her scarf had been reciprocated. It was a somewhat matronly white dress, with ballooning sleeves and a skirt of ludicrous length, the cream already marred and dirtied by however long it had been in the field. With it was a piece of paper, thoroughly challenged by the elements, but when Dylan picked it up she could make out the words.

Have you ever had to wear something you didn’t want to?

The handwriting was large, smooth and curved and extravagant, with hearts instead of dots over the I’s. Dylan had not brought a pen but she returned the next day with the dress her mother had made her wear to a cousin’s wedding rather than her preferred suit. It was a cold purple and so tight it made her gulp for breath and waddle like a duck, and so uncomfortably low-cut that she had spent the evening nervously adjusting it. With it were the cruelly painful shoes she had worn, the lack of platform and stiletto heels meaning she had come away limping with bruised and cracked soles.

The response was a demure pair of ivory shoes, propped by their kitten heels over the branches.

Over the next few months the tree became a tossing cupboard for all that disturbed them. The person who had hung the necklace hung two more – a black choker that looked like a belt, and a thick gold cross, as well as several scarves and a thick woollen jumper. One day Dylan came to see Malory Towers by Enid Blyton beneath the tree, and once GCSE exams were over Dylan – as she victoriously hung her school blazer – noticed a stack of exercise books and textbooks strewn and ripped over the branches.

So they had to be the same age as her, then. Sixteen – or perhaps fifteen still.

It was nature, she supposed, for curiosity to fester, smoulder, for her to want to know who left crosses and scarves and books, to want to know the story behind the choker belt, to want to know who wrote the notes. The questions were always little, yet large, obscure things. Do you have a book you want to dump? Don’t you want to get rid of your textbooks? Are you religious? Are you really religious, or is it expected of you? Some of the questions had gone unanswered, the paper wet and limp by the time she reached them, rain snatching the ink away.

It was nature as well, she supposed, that they’d eventually meet. The girl lounging beneath the tree lay like a cat, and when she saw Dylan approaching her eyebrows rose above her sunglasses. But she didn’t say anything.

Dylan tossed several books on the Study of Law beneath the tree, and sat down. Somehow she felt as if she knew the girl, by knowing the things that disturbed her peace.

She was blonde, and very unlike Dylan. In the winter Dylan guessed her skin would be pale, but as it was it was tanned and smattered with freckles. She was very pretty, so pretty Dylan felt a tinge of jealousy and a wave of attraction, with full lips and big eyes with eyelashes that would be long even if they hadn’t been combed through with mascara. She was wearing makeup, and a lot of it, though it was well done, and her eyes were green; her shirt was red and cropped and her shorts denim and fraying above her thighs, and her shoes were wedges; but what Dylan was immediately drawn to were criss-crossed knots of scarred skin along her forearms and inner thighs, and that her eyeliner was smudged with wetness around her eyes.

The girl smiled softly, shyly, and Dylan got the sudden impression that this was not how the girl smiled at most people. She understood that. When she smiled, she had to pretend that nothing hung on the tree existed or bothered her, but the smile she had just received was a smile of acknowledgement that Dylan knew the soft spots already.

She introduced herself as Cassandra, Cassie for short.

Two of the necklaces, Dylan learnt, had been gifts from Cassie’s ex-boyfriend. She had always hated the choker. The buckle made her feel like she was on a leash, a dog, and perhaps it stung because it was true. He had given her the heart as a make-up gift after a fight, but in the end Cassie had hung it up on the tree and broke up with him over text message. He had been angry and her family were on his side, but Cassie had thought it was about time she was on hers.

       The third one – the cross – was a gift from her mother.

       “I’m Catholic,” Cassie had said, when Dylan asked. “Like, really Catholic – as in, I would be if my mum didn’t make me. But it’s like I have to constantly prove to them how dedicated and devoted I am. The crucifix doesn’t say Jesus to me, it says expectations.” Her eyes slid to it, consciously or subconsciously, and rested there. “So I hung it up on the tree. What about your scarf?”

       “My grandfather gave it to me. He didn’t think I’d like it. It’s like – I’m expected to go against everything they say and like and do, because I’m different. They don’t see anything in between miniature models of them and hating everything they stand for.” Dylan grabbed the scarf off the branch and pulled, pulled tight, hoping the threads would come unravelled and the thing would tear. “I was expected to be the perfect girl. And now I’m not, I’m expected to be the opposite of it.”

       Cassie’s mouth sloped into a grin. “The perfect girl,” she repeated. “Girls who don’t have to have dresses picked for them by their mothers.” Her eyes had reached the white gown now. “Perfect girls don’t wear low-cut dresses and high heels.”

Dylan’s eyes had gone in the opposite direction to the purple one. “Or perhaps they do.”

What perfect girls do is obey. Conform. Acquiesce.

It was left unsaid.

*

“You come to the tree often,” Cassie remarked. She was wearing a white sundress, today, the neckline cut in a triangle to reveal slices of tanned breast.

       “It’s where I get my peace.”

       “Nowhere else?” Cassie’s eyebrows slid into a slight frown. She was open, exposed, in her face; everything she thought a twitch of the nose or brows or lips would reveal. Cassie, somehow, had never learnt to pull her lips shut or her eyes blank like Dylan believed was necessary.

       “Why, do you have another place?”

       Cassie looked up, startled. “Of course. Peace is everywhere. You just have to know what to look at.”

       Dylan felt her lower lip curve into a smile, the edge of a sardonic blade. “Is that so?”

       “Of course some places seem more peaceful than others. Like here. But we don’t know. Someone’s probably been murdered here.” Cassie tore up some grass with pointed red fingernails. “Lots of people, actually. It’s a desolate heath.” She turned to look at Dylan, properly this time, seriously. “There’s no such thing as a truly peaceful place. You just have to ignore the bad things. Real peace-“ and she tapped her head – “is in the mind.”

       “Okay, Doctor,” said Dylan, sarcastically.

       Cassie smiled a smile as uneven and knotted as her scars. “Of course, I’m not really qualified to give advice. My mind is never at peace – but then, I wonder if there’s any such thing as a truly peaceful mind, either.” She crossed her legs. “If you want, I’ll take you to my peaceful places.”

       Cassie’s first peaceful place was a café. It was a tiny little shop, long and narrow, the outside painted lilac. The walls and shelves were lined with rows of clocks. They all ticked together, as one, and it was oddly comforting, like one whole consistent regular heartbeat.

As they passed the clocks Dylan noticed the times were all different. She wondered if any were correct and, if they were, in what part of the world. The timelessness had her suddenly reminded of her first evening under the tree, where the peace had seemed to swallow time.

Peace isn’t sentient, said a voice that sounded like Cassie’s. Peace is in your mind.

Lunch there was quiet but not awkward, and they ate and laughed and didn’t bother about what time it was. Dylan’s mother was upset, again, when she came home late, and demanded to know which friend Dylan had been with, despite not knowing Cassie anyway. Dylan felt her anger leap to the surface, a lion or a lynx, a smouldering fire gasping and pleading to be ignited, but somehow green eyes and freckles faded her vision and she found herself dousing her mind in cold water.

She didn’t snap at her mother like she was inclined to. Not at first. But she had followed, demanding answers, demanding names, and when Dylan could not even produce a phone number she had insisted the whole story was lies. Dylan hated the sense of injustice she felt when wrongly accused, hated how it made her furious and devastated at the same time, hated that her mother had so little faith, trust, belief in her. And so her lynx reared its furred head and unleashed its gaping jaw and anger tumbled out, crimson and burning, an incessant relentless fury strumming through her-

And Dylan shouted back.

*

Dylan could feel her anger like a pile of stones. Some pebbles, little rocks, and then boulders. She knew it wouldn’t be long before the next rockslide.

       She longed for some peace, some quiet, some respite, but she had essentially been a prisoner since she had shouted at her mother. It had been two weeks but still no peace, no tree, no Cassie, and she missed all three. She wondered how Cassie was doing without her. Never had she met someone so vulnerable and so strong.

       Fires devoured and destroyed with a terrible fury, she reminded herself, but they could be doused with water.

       Cassie was curled up beneath the tree, her head bowed between her legs. She could feel her panic rising, like a river or a lake, constant rain like wet ropes uncoiling from the sky, until the level rose and rose and rose until there was nowhere to go but overflow-

       Acidic heat scorched behind her eyes. She could feel unwanted tears welling, uncontrollable breaths heaving, unexpected upset spiking; her hands were shaking, her pupils were dilating, and she could feel little whimpers, tiny outbreaks of breath, pushing past her lips.

       Why did Dylan not come?

       Cassie knew there were machines designed to never stop running, but minds were not meant to run like machines. She could feel her cogs and gears turning, and it brought fatigue and bitterness but mostly panic. Dylan no longer liked her… Dylan was a figment of her imagination … Dylan had been hit by a bus …

       Cassie scrabbled at the tree bark when her breathing sped up further. It was now desperate gulps of breath, drowning not in water but in the scenarios her own mind had created … she wanted quiet, she wanted silence, she wanted peace …

       She lay there, sobbing, shaking, her stomach cramping and contracting in the aftermath of her tears, until late – so late she remembered she had to be home. When she came there the next morning there was a quick note in Dylan’s careless, spiky handwriting. She had seized her chance late at night; there was a quick summary of the situation, but, most valuably, a phone number.

       Their relationship had been either lowered to reality or transcended the tree. Regardless, there was an undeniable connection, now – something real, something physical, something as tangible and everyday but nevertheless imperative as a phone number. They were not two estranged girls linked by loneliness and a tree. They were friends, perhaps more, but Cassie did not think they were less.

*

They had texted since, but minimally. Dylan decided that texting seemed too typical, too detached; not right, not right for a relationship that had begun at such a high and such a low. It was too conventional, and somehow too intimate and yet not enough. They had agreed to meet up again, this time at another peaceful place and, at Cassie’s encouragement, the permission of Dylan’s mother.

The second peaceful place was on the beach, a cove seemingly cleansed of all other human existence. Dylan wore her bikini top but a pair of “boys” swimming shorts because she always felt uncomfortable in the bikini ones, and Cassie wore a sleeveless strip of white on her top and a similar set-up on the bottom, and neither of them judged the other. They ended up in the sea until Dylan saw Cassie’s left arm recoil like a muscled snake from the salt water, and brought her back to the tide to collect shells. She didn’t mention why, but she knew that Cassie knew that she had noticed, and was grateful for it.

       Dylan saw themselves blurred in the water – beautiful Cassie and then herself, with her short dark hair and sloping nose and dark eyes, and then looked back at their bodies wrapped in their swimming costumes. They seemed achingly and jarringly and physically real, wet and caked in sand, and then there was suddenly lips on her own. She was not sure how they had got there, if it had been her that had come to Cassie or the other way round, but now it was an entirely equal situation; a tug-of-war, but Dylan didn’t know whether she was enticing Cassie forward or hopelessly drawn to her. There were hard planes of bone and muscle but soft stomachs and thighs and breasts, and there were legs and arms and hair, and there was sand and sea and it wasn’t really peace, not quite, it was something like champagne or laughter, a whirlwind of excitement with it, but her mind went blank and unworried like it did when she was just beneath her tree.

       Maybe peace didn’t have to be passive. Just nice.

       Afterwards she was peaceful too, lazy and satisfied, so when her eyes finally found Cassie’s and saw her panicking, it struck her like sea spray. Cassie’s eyes were darting nervously, the green blurred grey with brimming tears, and she was rubbing her left arm and right thigh forwards, backwards, forwards, backwards, into the harsh ridges of the stone and sand.

       “Are you upset?” she asked.

       Cassie looked up at her with eyes of sea-coloured terror. “It’s not you-“

       “I know.” A beat. “What is it?”

       Cassie looked up to the sky, as if to her God, and laughed a laugh that sounded nothing like joy. It was if she had spat bitterness and panic up to the air. When she lay back down, her chest was heaving.

       “Don’t you worry? About what people will say? About what people will do?” She was drawing frantic circles into the sand. “I try not to. But I worry all the time. Anxiety steers my brain. I worry about what I’ve said, about what other people have said, I imagine them saying things behind my backs. I worry about things I could have done and get embarrassed or upset about what might have been. And this – this! It happened, it really did happen, and people will say things. They will.”

       Dylan rolled over to look into the sky through Cassie’s pupils. “We could pretend,” she said. “Lots of people do that. We could meet up like we’re just friends.”

Even as she said it, she knew Cassie wouldn’t. She was bold, authentic, frank and freckled and Cassie. Cassie hated to change clothes she liked because she couldn’t stand the notion of ‘appropriate.’ Dylan was surely more than clothes.

“I won’t do that. You know that.” Cassie’s voice was angry, but angrier with the world than with Dylan. “Don’t you ever get scared?”

“Peace is in the mind,” Dylan teased. She fell back on her elbows. “You can’t be at peace if you’re constantly in fear,” she said, and her tone had a sudden soft slant to it that she was surprised to hear. She had never been particularly kind.

Cassie rolled over so all Dylan could see was blonde hair and tanned back and sandy legs. She couldn’t see Cassie smile, but she knew she was.

Dylan thought about the way Cassie had taught herself to regulate breaths and limit cuts when her mind went unconscious. She thought about how she tried to keep her anger under control and thoughts to herself. She thought about how clinking cutlery could break her, how Cassie could be in tears because she thought that someone’s tone was wrong. She thought that peace was in the mind. Maybe the mind had to be taught it.

*

Beneath the tree peace was learnt. Dylan brought a meditation CD of her mothers and an ancient player out to the tree, and they learnt to close their eyes and keep their breathing steady when anger roared or fear screamed. Cassie moved from throwing out her razor to scratching her nails against her thighs to snapping a hairband against her wrists to colouring in her thighs with markers to days and months and years clean. Dylan learnt to swallow shouts and retorts, quiet the voice in her head that howled to be offended, angered, and got a punching bag and took up boxing instead. Her grandfather would have been scandalised.

       Of course the mind, however formidable, could not survive on its own. There were GP appointments, and counselling sessions, and medication. But the courage to grasp those things took its own kind of mental strength.

       Even when Cassie and Dylan moved onto light and laughter and greater things, the tree stood, some grand pariah on top of its hill, nothing more than a shadow against the sky in the right light. Its branches were spread like limbs, like some martyr ready to shoulder their burdens, nothing more than branches and rags and pages whipped about by the wind until they were eventually snatched away.

       But that evening, they were only girls, babies, curled up in circles like foetuses, and the tree stood above them like a mother rocking her children in their shadow. It was warm but cool and they were tired but happy, and the sun shone and their lashes turned into shadows on their cheekbones once they had closed their eyes.

 Word Count: 4,465

[kafashionsofficial]

Fashion Tips: Designing at Home

Sew a patchwork quilt with Next in Fashion’s Daniel Fletcher

Creative director and star of Netflix’s Next in Fashion, Daniel W Fletcher has plenty to get on with while in social isolation, designing a collection for Fiorucci as well as one for his own brand. In his down time, he is taking up a DIY challenge to make a patchwork quilt based on a dress he made during the filming of Next in Fashion, using other designers’ leftover scraps. The design – inspired by concerns over the melting polar ice caps – is an arctic landscape.

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“Ever since the show, I’ve been inundated with requests to make similar quilted items, so I thought this was a good opportunity to show people how they can do so themselves.

“You can make it from any leftover fabrics you have. This time, I used some leftover damaged denim from my studio as the quilt base. I don’t imagine everyone has that lying around so use what you have.

“Heavier is better for the base so it can hold the appliqué – maybe some old curtains or an existing blanket that needs some love. If you don’t have enough to do a blanket, you could use the same technique to make a cushion. For the appliqué, it could be old clothes, tablecloths, tea towels – anything you can get your hands on.

“I went quite abstract with my pattern, but you could come up with a more elaborate design.

“Mine took me five hours on a sewing machine. You could hand sew it instead. It’s going to be a much longer process but could be very therapeutic, which is something we could all do with right now.”

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Difficulty level: intermediate Equipment needed: an old blanket (or similar), scraps of fabrics, thread and needle

How to:

“For the nitty-gritty, head over to my Instagram – my wonderful sister captured the whole process.”

A post shared by DANIEL w. FLETCHER (@danielwfletcher) on Mar 27, 2020 at 12:52pm PDT

Crochet a small rug with menswear designer Liam Hodges

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Liam Hodges has recently moved house, so his time in self isolation has been spent unpacking and making rugs.

“I learnt to crochet last October and have found it really relaxing. For our AW20 collection, we crocheted a lot of squares as embellishments. I’ve kept it up and even tried to make a skipping rope when I first went into isolation.

“I had been wanting to make some rag rugs and started working out how to crochet graphics into them. I made the graphic in Photoshop so that each pixel represented each crochet stitch.

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“I thought doormat-size was perfect. I have mine by the door to remind me to keep positive and take the [government] advice about staying in seriously.

“It took me around two and a half hours to complete and is made up of old, shredded T-shirts for the coloured section and yarn made using Wool and the Gang offcuts for the main black areas, so it is entirely made from waste.”

Difficulty level: intermediate Equipment needed: an old T-shirt, a crochet hook, yarn and scissors

How to:

“Use our how-to digital zine on Instagram, which has the pattern as well as instructions on how to crochet.”

A post shared by LIAM HODGES (@liam__hodges) on Mar 27, 2020 at 4:56am PDT

Sew a shark mascot with designer Christopher Raeburn

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Designer Christopher Raeburn’s team are adapting to the current situation by releasing weekly creative tasks via their #RaeburnAtHome initiative.

“This project is to make one of our shark mascots. We have always featured animals in our collections, initially as a way to highlight and support endangered species through our WWF UK partner. The Shark is one of our most popular animals; we keep it in our collections each season, but it always evolves.

“You need no more than one square metre of fabric – even less if you are conscious of pattern placement for waste reduction. Using a variety of smaller cuts of fabric is encouraged though as this adds pops of colour and texture to the final shark.

“Not only is reusing and repurposing old fabric a more interesting way of working, but extending the lifetime of garments is instrumental in reducing planetary impact. When people are spending more time at home than ever before, now is the chance to pull out those bits that we no longer use and give them new life.

“Unless you are an absolute master, it should keep you busy for about 10 hours. We only recommend a sewing machine for ease and speed – top marks for effort go to anyone tackles it by hand.”

Difficulty level: advanced Equipment needed: a sewing machine, fabric, scissors, thread and paper.

How to:

Sew a kimono-inspired garment with designer Edward Crutchley

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Designer Edward Crutchley’s lockdown aim is to set himself a project each day. His first was to cut a pattern for and sew a one-piece kimono-inspired garment. Next up is making miniature sculptures of the kings and queens of England using modelling clay.

“How to make Japanese clothes by John Marshall is a book I have on my shelf that I thought it would be great to lose myself in during isolation.

“I love traditional Japanese clothing and now is the perfect time to study. What I love about kimonos is that they are traditionally dictated by the fabric – they are the width they are because that is how wide the looms could weave. For a fabric geek like me, that’s a dream.

“A traditional kimono pattern looks like some different-length rectangles put together, but nothing is ever that simple and it takes a lot of skill to construct a traditional kimono properly. The one I made is much, much easier.

“I used three metres of fabric left over from the last collection, but you could make it with two metres if it’s 150cm wide, or you can easily add seams to the patterns or patchwork fabrics together. Repurposing old curtains or a bed sheet would be perfect.

“It took me around four hours to complete – there are only three seams and three hems. I tried to make it as simple as possible.”

Difficulty level: advanced Equipment needed: a sewing machine, two to three metres of fabric, thread, scissors, paper and dressmaking pins.

How to:

“The pattern I made is available to download for free here. The step-by-step sewing guide is saved on my Instagram highlights.”

Make a shrunken crisp-packet necklace with Tatty Devine

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While social distancing, Rosie Wolfenden and Harriet Vine, the designers behind Tatty Devine jewellery, are doing daily making challenges.

“It’s amazing for your mental health and the perfect antidote to these strange and unsettling times. This so-called shrinky necklace is something we did as kids. We first made one as Tatty Devine in 2001. It was very early days, when we made jewellery from whatever we could get our hands on. We enjoyed having to eat crisps.”

Difficulty level: beginner Equipment needed: old crisp packets (not foiled or metallic, such as Chipsticks or many supermarket own brands); a chain necklace (whether new or something you already own); greaseproof paper, a baking tray, a damp tea towel (for safety reasons), an old tea towel, a hole punch, a regular jump ring and two pairs of flat-nose pliers.

How to:

Set your grill to medium.

While the grill is warming, fold the greaseproof paper to make it into rough envelope shapes and pop your empty food packets inside – one wrapper per envelope.

Put the envelopes on a baking tray under the grill. The packet will start to shrink and curl up. You don’t want them to burn or blister so watch closely.

As soon as they are shrunken enough, remove the baking tray, quickly place a folded tea towel on top of the envelope and slam your hand down to flatten your “shrinky”.

Use a hole punch to make a hole somewhere on the packet.

Open a regular jump ring with the pliers and thread the packet on to the jump ring, then put the jump ring on to the necklace and close it.

You can stop with one pendant or layer up for a charm effect.

Knit a scarf with dancer Meshach Henry

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Despite having no previous knitting experience, dancer Meshach Henry has made three scarves in as many days, documented on Instagram by his partner, the Radio 1 DJ Nick Grimshaw.

“I always said I would learn a new skill like plumbing or plastering if I ever had a lot of time on my hands. But they aren’t ideal skills to practice in this current situation. So, having seen knitting supplies in a craftshop window recently, I thought, ‘Here’s my new hobby.’

“I purchased a thick wool because it looked easier to use and less fiddly. I bought 10mm knitting needles, which I thought were an average size but later found out are strangely big – but I’m really happy with the chunky effect they produce.

“What I like about knitting is that you can see your physical product. As a dancer, I rarely get to see my own work, so to be able to see and hold this tangible thing is a whole new world for me.

“My intention is to move on to knitting jumpers. I want to create a matching jumper for every scarf, just to keep things interesting.”

Difficulty level: beginner Equipment needed: knitting needles and wool

How to:

“I taught myself by watching an eight-minute Knitting for Total Beginners tutorial on YouTube. The tutorial taught me how to cast on in the first instance. Then there are follow-up links to a second video that teaches you how to change knitting style and how to cast off.”

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Make drinking glasses with former British Vogue fashion director Lucinda Chambers

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Lucinda Chambers is co-founder of fashion brand Colville and online shopping platform Collagerie and was fashion director at British Vogue for 25 years.

“I was in Paris six months ago having a glass of water in the Bon Marché and I noticed the glass looked suspiciously like the end of a wine bottle.” When Chambers investigated she found a world of home crafters making their own tumblers from pre-used wine bottles.

“I found an inexpensive kit on Amazon,” she says. “Each glass is a labour of love as I sand them by hand; it’s strangely therapeutic.”

Difficulty level: medium Equipment needed: empty glass bottles, a glass cutter kit (available online, for instance from Amazon).

How to:

“The kit has everything you need to make the glasses: a stand, saw and markers that you place on the empty bottle at the height you require your finished glass to be. You can make French-style low tumblers or something taller. Once you’ve cut the bottle you need to sand the cut edge smooth.”

The internet is full of videos, such as this one, that show you more details.

This content was originally published here.

[sjworldtour]

22/09/19 Street market in San Telmo

We have never seen so much market as we have seen today. Endless stalls and endless crafts and endless paintings. And, of course, empanadas.

Today after breakfast from our usual local panederia we got the subway to the city centre, then headed South on Calle Defensa towards San Telmo, where a street market is held every Sunday. Almost immediately after turning off the main Plaza de Mayo we were met with rows and rows of stalls, which continued for several km. Lucky that we have no money and no luggage space, or we might have been at risk of buying a zillion things. There were toys and jewellery and antiques and art and ceramics and books and some clothes (Joey fell in love with a llama jumper) and a million other things, and we spent the whole morning working our way along. At one point we were followed by someone selling coffee and we had to stop to let him past because his call was too repetitive. As we got closer to the main square and permanent antiques market, there were buskers, magicians, a very popular puppeteer, a drumming group, and so on. We dived off the manic street into a few art galleries, one of which had some lovely paintings, and the other was a little too creepy. We found the permanent indoor food market which was a very impressive place, and circled back to it a little later to buy empanadas for lunch. We timed it just right as by the time we left with our food the whole place was absolutely heaving. 

We sat on a step in the sunshine by an accordion player and had lunch. Joey's empanadas had sweetcorn in and were basically the best things ever. Back on the main square after lunch we watched some impressive tango dancing and finally, after many hours of market time, headed out towards La Boca.

La Boca is a low rise, working class neighbourhood to the South of the city, completely obsessed with their football team. We walked quite a long way, through a few parks (one of which was hosting another market) and past the bright blue and yellow painted stadium. After a while we arrived at El Caminito area, a few lanes of brightly coloured buildings decorated with murals and Fileteado art, and completely bustling with tourists who had appeared from nowhere. Every inch of it was crammed with pavement cafes, each with their own tango dancers, and we stopped for a coke. Got in a bit of a row because they had said they take debit cards but then demanded cash, but it was nice to sit in the sun and watch the world go by all the same. Possibly the strangest thing either of us have ever seen was an arrangement of dogs - half stone models in disturbing outfits, and half real live dogs in equally disturbing outfits. We think they were collecting for a dog shelter, but could have been anything going on really. A little later we saw a big dog running excitedly around all the stalls, and then casually having a wee on a low rack of scarves for sale. 

Walked back up to San Telmo, pausing at a busy park to relax and listen to our book and people watch for a while. Back at San Telmo the market was very much still going, with the same performers and tango dancers drawing big crowds. We climbed up to a first floor courtyard of Centro Nacional de la Musica y la Danza, and listened to a female duo singing a beautiful traditional song (presumably).

It was starting to get chilly and we were very much marketed out so we headed home. Got dressed up and headed out for a fancy dinner to celebrate our engagement. Went to Lo de Jesus, a beautiful but not-too-expensive restaurant and had a lovely bottle of wine and two course meal feeling all very fancy. Apparently in Argentina when you spend a little more money on food you get given a completely vast amount of food! Our starters were huge, Joey got a Spanish tortilla about the size of a large saucepan (although it unfortunately had chunks of ham in so had to be eaten carefully) and Sam got a doorstop wedge of pate. Mains were also great, Sam finally had an Argentine steak. After weirdly seeming to judge Sam's wine choice, the waiter turned out to be very kind to us and the whole dinner was delightful and very filling. 

[monoguk]

jellybeans

She was talking about something like having a gingerbread treadmill if ever she felt too bloated with all the sweets she has eaten in her imaginary land.

FEATURING - kim taehyung CATEGORY - romance WORD COUNT - 15000+

Kang Eun Na had one dream: And that was to live it dessert paradise; A place where everything was made of sweets, sweets, and more sweets.

“That place doesn’t even exist,” Kim Taehyung scolded. The two had been best friends since they were babies (exaggerating here though). He was used to how nonsensical Eun Na could be, but that was what completed her bubbly personality.

“Then, someday I’m gonna be crowned as the queen of chocolate! Or maybe Ice Cream Queen? Whatever, either position sounds great…” Eun Na mumbled on as if she hadn’t heard what Taehyung stated, or maybe she wasn’t listening at all.

Taehyung chuckled as he ran his fingers through his best friend’s short hair. His fingertips glided over the strands in a short time with the minimal length, and somehow he was admittedly disappointed with the lack of contact, but Eun Na’s head lying down on his stomach was enough to satisfy his craving.

Kim Taehyung had one dream as his gaze focused on the fantasizing girl, (She was talking about something like having a gingerbread treadmill if ever she felt too bloated with all the sweets she has eaten in her imaginary land),: it was to be Eun Na’s Chocolate King but Ice Cream King was also alright just as long as he was beside Kang Eun Na forever.

Dear Secret Santa, please give me tons of assorted sweets. Anything but the mint ones, okay? Thanks. -Kang Eun Na

“You always ask for that, why can’t you ask for scarves, sweaters, cuddly bears, you know? The things girls ask in Christmas Parties?” Taehyung asked as they were walking under the afternoon rays, having gone from a tiring day at university.

Christmas Day was fast approaching and a few days before that was their section’s Christmas Party. As a tradition, an exchange of gifts were being done annually wherein a student picks a paper with a classmate’s name and he/she has to keep it confidential until the day to give the gifts came.

Taehyung and Eun Na’s feet crunched melodiously as they walked on the piling white snow. The two bundled up with scarves and thick coats, trying to warm themselves as much as possible. There was a foot-distance between their bodies, trying to be as close for the source of warmth yet distant enough to not be mistaken as a couple.

As much as Taehyung disliked (loathed, really), the minimal distance, he was glad to have been this close with Kang Eun Na because he knew that the both of them hated such a cold weather.

“It’s practice for when I rule my own Dessert Kingdom. When I’m queen, I can buy anything I want with my chocolate coins!” Eun Na exclaimed as her arms were flailing comically while her face glowed brightly against the snowy background, definitely taking Taehyung’s breath away for multiple of times now.

“You’re unbelievable… No such place exists, Nana…” Taehyung rolled his eyes, his nickname for her tasting so natural against his tongue, a smile completely evident across his face.

“I can make it exist, Tae… But, you can’t make aliens exist…” Eun Na shrugged her shoulders as she pranced away from Taehyung, her feet moving at the beat of an imaginary Christmas song in her head.

“Aliens can exist, people believe in it. Some scientists spend their whole lives trying to phantom the mystery of extraterrestrial species!” Taehyung argued as he tried to keep up with Eun Na’s skipping pace.

“Whatever, I’m still going to be Ice Cream queen…” Eun Na looked back and stuck a tongue out at Taehyung before she sprinted towards her house with Taehyung effortlessly trailing behind her.

The boy kept his hands inside his pockets, a smile never leaving his face. He liked how Eun Na was just so energetically happy. She was contagious as were her emotions. He liked how blunt Eun Na was, how she rarely covers things up with her fluent words (except when she really has to keep something a surprise from someone). He liked how Kang Eun Na was his only friend who really knew who Kim Taehyung was - the silent, over-looking, “gorgeously-adorable”, surprisingly-smart, protective friend.

They weren’t even half of the list of why Kim Taehyung liked Kang Eun Na. The list goes on and if it was enumerated one-by-one, it would take forever to finish. That was how much Taehyung liked Eun Na.

His feelings for his best friend started years ago, when they first encountered each other.

It was during the first day in preschool when toddler’s minds were full of cleverness and bluntness.

Kim Taehyung came to school late by 10 minutes (blame it on his older brother’s friend, Byun Baekhyun (of course Baekhyun’s here… how can I not include my ultimate bias? lol) for waking up late if it weren’t for Taehyung waking him up and reminding him about his school.) “Be good Taehyung, hyung will pick you up later… Oh shit, I’m so late!!!”

Baekhyun ran off, taking short glances just to see if Taehyung was already safe inside the vicinity of the preschool institution.

At an early age, Taehyung learned how to roll his eyes in disbelief (He learned from his beloved hyung, Kim Junmyeon, because apparently his group, EXO, was a big pain in the ass.)

The little boy took small steps as he entered the big oak doors of the school. His footsteps echoed along the empty hallways, making him wonder where everyone was. A few more minutes of wandering, Taehyung heard something from a distance. He followed where these booming voices were and soon his question answered when he saw people as small as him sit orderly in front of a podium where an elderly woman was by the microphone stand. Parents and guardians were by the wall, looking over their children.

“Hello, my dear children, welcome to Big Hit Academy Pre-School Department. We are grateful to have been chosen to mold you into responsible young adults. We hope that you’ll enjoy your stay here, okay children?”

A chorus of lively yes’s echoed across the room, Taehyung unconsciously mumbled a “yes” as well as he carefully made his way to any available empty chair, trying to be invisible as he was embarrassingly late on his first day. His glittering eyes darted along the towering people he passed by, wondering why women had colors on their faces or how the males made their hair stand up attractively.

At the very last row of the chairs assigned for the preschoolers, Taehyung found a seat, making him sigh in relief. As much as possible, he tried to sneak in as quietly as he could, but his seatmate recognized his presence immediately.

It was a little girl, her hair tied into high pigtails, her hair tie the color of pink - a great contrast from her shiny black hair. Her eyes were round and wide with curiosity, mirroring Taehyung’s sparkly orbs. She had chubby cheeks that probably felt soft and smooth to the touch if only Taehyung had enough courage to do such a daring move. She wore a denim jumper dress with a white shirt inside as she had on a pair of white doll shoes and knee-length white laced socks.

“Hi, I’m Kang Eun Na what’s yours, little boy?” Kim Taehyung raised his brows at the name, but then again this Kang Eun Na kid was a few centimeters taller than he was, and somehow it hurt his childish pride.

“I’m not that small…” Taehyung mumbled grumpily as he slouched further into his plastic chair. “Suho hyung told me that when I grow up, I’ll grow taller fast. I’ll probably be even taller than you!”

The little girl tilted at the boy’s outburst. What was he blabbering on about? She merely asked for his name, wanting to befriend this late comer.

Taehyung noticed the girl’s - Eun Na’s - silence making him turn his head to face him. Never had he ever encountered someone who was up to par with his irresistible cuteness. Now he felt as though he was a mere apprentice under this adorable human being. At such a young age, Taehyung experienced temptation… to pinch her bulky cheeks.

“Are you mad?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing in the middle. Little Eun Na watched as one of the boy’s eyebrow raised. He is mad…, she thought. Quickly, she racked her brain for anything that could help her not make him mad at her anymore.

What made me not angry? Her lips quirked to the side, her gaze still glued onto Kim Taehyung as if she was trying to decipher a difficult jigsaw puzzle.

Just then, she instantly brightened up, a smile so bright Kim Taehyung could not prevent the skipping of the beat of his little heart while his cheeks turned pink at the new sensation.

Kang Eun Na turned to her side just to sit upright back up with a small Pororo backpack by her lap. She opened it before digging her arms and head inside the too-large-for-her bag. Taehyung almost had this crazy idea that Pororo was swallowing her whole when the girl’s head popped out, her hands holding a pack of… chocolate?

“Here,” she offered, “I didn’t want to give away my chocolate but my Oreo Guards told me it was okay. Please don’t be mad at me anymore…”

“I’m not…” Taehyung hesitantly took the pack of chocolate, varying from milk chocolate to white chocolate and dark chocolate. His eyebrows furrowed in the middle this time. Had he heard right? Or were his ears playing tricks on him?

“Excuse me, but you said… Oreo Guards…?”

Kang Eun Na’s expression became even brighter, if that was even possible. “I did! I mean, I wish I had Oreo Guards but Doughnut Guards are fine by me too. You see, my dream is to one day become the queen in Dessert Land, where everyone is made of sweets! I love sweets so much! My mother used to scold me that I’ll have… what do you call it…? i think it was something like dia-Reeses? Yeah… something like that, but I’ve already had those Reeses cups by the refrigerator, so maybe sweets really aren’t that bad… But, as I was saying, I eat all kinds of desserts! My favorite is chocolates! Especially those cookies and cream flavored ones! But, recently I’ve been wanting to eat ice cream! Strawberry is my favorite flavor. Maybe when I become queen, I’m gonna order for a huge swimming pool filled with blueberry flavored ice cream because pink strawberry water just looks weird and…”

Eun Na hadn’t even noticed that she had been talking non-stop (or maybe she didn’t care if she talked all day because she was talking about her big dream) until she heard a laugh beside her. She looked at the boy whose name she still doesn’t know.

For the first time in her life, Kang Eun Na felt the air escape her lungs, her breath seeming as if it was sucked out because the sight of this late boy was so breathtaking. He had the cutest eye smile as the sides formed youthful crinkles. His nose scrunched cutely as well. Shallow dimples formed somewhere along his cheeks, almost making him look like a kitten, a cute one at that. Eun Na concluded that Kim Taehyung was the cutest person she has ever met for everything about him screamed aegyo.

But, more importantly, what caught Eun Na’s breath in a pause was his smile showcasing his small baby teeth while his lips formed the shape of jellybeans. She was fascinated by the fact that someone could smile and form such a shape effortlessly with their lips.

The little girl grinned as well, ecstatic with the jellybean smile and maybe because she was certain this boy wasn’t angry at her anymore (read: at all). She started laughing along with Taehyung, their quiet giggles drowned out by the noisy assembly room.

“You’re hilarious…” little Kim Taehyung wiped imaginary tears of joy from his eyes as he calmed down from his laugh. He was about to say that her dream was absolutely crazy and impossible but as he gazed at Eun Na grinning even brighter than before (how was that even possible, he thought) he kept his mouth closed, making a small reminder to himself to tell Eun Na some other time.

“I’m glad you’re not angry anymore…” Eun Na stated, her eyes glimmering in relief. Her feet hung by the edge of her plastic seat while she occasionally swung them forwards and backwards. Her gaze lingered at the boy who was looking at her as well, a soft smile painted across his face. It was a shame that his lips didn’t look like jellybeans anymore but Eun Na thinks that she’ll do her best to get more of that jellybean smile.

“I’m Kim Taehyung by the way…” the boy grinned wider, amused by how carefree and lively Kang Eun Na was.

Eun Na gasped a look of glad surprise pained across her face, “Ooh! Daebak! How can you make your smile look like a jellybean?”

“Wha-” before Taehyung could continue his question he felt nimble fingers reach up and touch the side of his lips, barely grazing over the pink flesh of his lips.

“I like sweets, and jellybeans are sweet.” Eun Na explained, her gaze up at Taehyung’s surprised orbs (he was trying to calm his small heart down - such an alien feeling - but Eun Na didn’t need to know that) “I like you already, Tae-ssi… From now on, we’re the best of friends…”

Kim Taehyung smiled right after Eun Na leaned back, her fingers leaving his red face. But he never minded if she noticed the change of color. He didn’t know if that was some sort of confession, as his Suho hyung’s friends say when they come home with an armful of pink letters and chocolates, but all that mattered were the three words, “I like you”.

Taehyung’s first day in preschool was better than he expected, especially when he found a friend by his first hour upon his entry. She was Kang Eun Na.

And by the end of the day, as his Baekhyun hyung and Suho hyung came by to pick him up, Taehyung had this goofy smile matched with pink cheeks and a racing heart, one thought running though his mind on repeat, ‘I like you too Kang Eun Na’

Never did he think that he’d still like her that much (or maybe even more) until adulthood.

“WAKE UP LAZY ASS!!!” Taehyung was harshly woken up by a loud shrilly voice while his body was being rocked side-to-side. “KIM TAEHYUNG!!! WAKE UP!!!”

“ALRIGHT ALRIGHT I’M AWAKE!” Taehyung groaned, his fist immediately rubbing his tired eyes. He glared at the culprit - Kang Eun Na, of course - before he spoke again, “Happy now…?”

“Ecstatic!” Eun Na excitedly commented as she turned around and shouted, “MOM! TAE’S AWAKE NOW!”

Taehyung heard a faint “Okay, breakfast will be ready soon, from downstairs which he assumed was from Eun Na’s mother. He lied down on his bed again, fatigue still coursing through his muscles.

It had been Taehyung’s and Eun Na’s tradition to have daily sleepovers. Yesterday was the boy’s turn to sleep by his room in the Kangs’ household. Eun Na also has her own room in the Kims’ humble dwelling because basically the both of them were somehow considered a second sibling by the other’s family.

It was a Saturday morning. The two of them were both lucky to have gotten a schedule without weekend classes in university. Eun Na majored in AB Communication while Taehyung majored in BS Civil Engineering however they both went to the same college campus and somehow fate decided to make the both of them have the same time schedule although with different subjects.

Taehyung relished on how far their friendship had gotten. Somehow, he wondered how come they were holding onto each other stronger than those cheesy couples who promised forever towards the other, that is, a forever with an expiration date. Sometimes, Taehyung wondered if he should take their relationship to the next level but he first had to muster up enough courage to bring out a love confession from him. In the end, he’d think that’s impossible because he’d forever (how ironic) find himself tongue-tied with a simple eye-contact with Kang Eun Na. Besides, such a long friendship was too much of a sacrifice for the satisfaction of his wildly beating heart.

The boy felt his bed shift upon the extra weight that he knew was Eun Na’s, "You better not be sleeping again, dummy…”

“I ain’t sleeping… just closing my eyes…” Taehyung lied still fully awake but eyes still peacefully closed.

Somehow, Eun Na couldn’t drift her gaze from the mesmerizing peaceful look on her best friend’s face as she remained seated by the bed. A soft smile lingered by her lips as she reached out and fixed Taehyung’s bed hair, not the he looked unattractive with it.

Honestly speaking, Kang Eun Na thinks that Taehyung was such a handsome being hence the “Kim Taehyung fan clubs” and “billions of love confessions from boys and girls alike” at the university campus and even during their childhood school Big Hit Academy. However, it perplexed her how Taehyung would turn down the attention and even the confession from the prettiest girls in school. It perplexed her more when she would feel relief whenever she heard Taehyung say, “I turned them down. They ain’t my type.”

The girl didn’t know why, but she somehow made a theory that she was just being an overprotective best friend. “Yeah, that’s it… Nothing more, nothing less…” she mumbled one day while she clutched her chest, her heart beating furiously beneath the bones and flesh.

Eun Na snapped out from her daze as she jumped out of bed and took hold of Taehyung’s arm, tugging him out of bed, “Liar. You’re sleeping already.”

“Guilty…” Taehyung chuckled while he defeated stood up from bed and followed Eun Na downstairs for breakfast.

Somehow, after the two said their morning greetings to their elders, Taehyung and Eun Na could not forget how their contact sent sparks all over their bodies. (Taehyung was used to this; Eun Na, however was trying shrug such sensation even though she’s felt it intensify recently despite the normality of the gesture.)

“Oh boohoo, it’s his fault they broke up,” Eun Na sarcastically commented. The two best friends were curled in the living room couch, watching the weekend reruns of some sappy Korean drama.

The girl had her back pressed against Taehyung’s folded knees as the boy was comfortably occupying the whole length of the small couch, his hands folded behind his head as some sort of cushion.

“But you watch it anyways,” Taehyung rolled his eyes and continued to watch the unveiling of more angst in the drama they were watching. It was almost lunchtime and the two were left alone in the house because Eun Na’s parents were unfortunate to have been scheduled work on weekends unlike her. Taehyung didn’t need permission from his parents that he was gonna stay over because they’ve already accepted the fact that the Kangs’ household was Taehyung’s second home.

Eun Na glared at Taehyung as soon ad her head turned towards the boy, “Shut up, Kim…”

The boy raised his hands in surrender, an amused smile decorating his smug face, “Hey, I thought you hated the show…”

“I hate the character, that’s all” Eun Na mumbled, her focus on the screen, anticipating the lead character’s stupid actions.

Meanwhile, Taehyung had the liberty of staring at the girl admirably for a few while before he sat up straight, with Eun Na’s back still supported by Taehyung’s knees.

It was until there was a shift in position that Eun Na had her head lying down on Taehyung’s crossed legs. As usual, his fingers found its way to Eun Na’s soft hair. He loved how the smell of her raspberry shampoo lingered along his fingertips, as obsessed as that made Taehyung seemed like.

The head massage had been a natural thing between the two of them, but somehow Eun Na felt different tingles shoot out from her body starting from Taehyung’s subtle touches until every part of her body had been electrocuted with an unknown current. It’s this feeling again, what is wrong with me? Maybe I am diagnosed with diabetes…, she thought.

The episode came to an end, but Eun Na stayed on that channel, wanting to listen to the OST of that drama. The awkward feeling she had when Taehyung combed her hair was long gone (although, her stomach did some subtle flips, she didn’t know why) and she was now enjoying how softly his fingers massaged her scalp.

She blankly stared at the television showing the names of the cast and the frozen pictures, all the while wondering why Taehyung’s warmth was warmer than anybody else’s. (Not that she had ever been so close for so long with another human being other than Taehyung and her family [but even so, her father and mother’s embrace weren’t cozy as her best friend’s]). It was until she heard a soft hum that she snapped out from her thoughts.

Eun Na instinctively looked up, recognized immediately where the familiar low pitch came from. To her surprise, Taehyung was looking down at her, his closed smile almost at the verge of forming her favorite jellybeans.

She watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, harmonizing with the drop and rise of the bass of the song. She was mesmerized for a while, relishing in the wonderful tune Taehyung hummed. One thing she liked about Kim Taehyung aside from his jellybean smile was his soothing deep singing voice.

Since his childhood days, Kim Taehyung has already possessed an incomparable voice. During his pre-school days, Eun Na was amazed at how a child (as old as her) beautifully sang their national anthem every morning. By the elementary stage, Kim Taehyung’s talent was showcased when Eun Na forced him to join a singing contest. He, of course, effortlessly slayed every singing competition since then. Because of that, a group of boys who named themselves Bangtan Sonyeondan approached Taehyung and asked him to join their group. Eun Na frequently hung out with Taehyung and his group (BTS for short) and she loved watching them practice their performances for school ceremonies. She was absolutely proud of her best friend when he learned how to dance because since then his passion to dance and sing strengthened.

“How come you stopped singing?” she asked, her hand instinctively reaching up to fix the bangs that covered his soft-gazing eyes. The boy felt butterflies erupt from his stomach (as always), but he didn’t have to let his best friend know that.

Taehyung sighed. He missed performing like when he was in high school. Those were probably his golden days, because he had everything he wanted then: a great band with great member-friends; a stronger passion for singing and dancing; and Kang Eun Na who seemed to have gotten even more beautiful and vibrant because of this thing called puberty (and somehow, the boy liked having the same puberty hit him because, let’s face it, it hit him good). “College happened, Nana…”

Yes, College. College was no joke, especially when he had a scholarship to uphold and parents to make proud. College was especially no joke because he was a civil engineer major. Of course he does not know what difficulties other colleges experience (although he heard from college student passersby that psychology was the hardest subject so far), but one thing’s for sure (and this is just for emphasis) COLLEGE IS NO JOKE.

“I guess you’re right,” Eun Na sighed as well. Ever since college started, she had so much trouble sleeping. Because in this level, you’re on your own. Nobody tells you what to do, and that’s the most difficult part alongside deciding what’s right and wrong. She pities people who actually chose to ditch university and live life freely. However, she made a realization: a big realization.

That without college, you wouldn’t have a decent job. Without a decent job, you won’t get a respectable salary. Without a respectable salary, you won’t have a great lifestyle. Without a great lifestyle, you won’t gain success. Without success, there’s no motivation. Without motivation, everything just falls apart. And when everything falls apart, there’s no more hope. (Although she’s read somewhere that all of these starts with having no pen).

“But, I miss your voice…” she whispered softly, her eyes mesmerizing Taehyung’s (or maybe it’s the other way around? OR, it’s both?). Eun Na instantly blushed when she realized that she’s said that aloud when she was supposed to say that inside the confines of her mind (and heart).

“I can sing for you anytime, Nana…” Taehyung ran his hands through her hair again, and this time it made an effect on Eun Na although she’d been very great on hiding it. “Just say anything, and I’ll do it…”

Maybe it was the softness of his voice or the fingers resting on top of her head (pausing for some reason she did not know) or the mesmerizing glimmer in his black orbs, but all Eun Na felt was the thrumming of her heart beat along her ears and ribs. Somewhere along that feeling was the realization that Kim Taehyung was the most beautiful human being she’s seen especially with that rebellious green tinged hair by the end of his long bangs and that forming-jellybean smile. Oh, that wonderful jellybean.

Kang Eun Na’s eyes widened at a wonderful thought, forgetting the fluffy sensation just a while a go as she spoke, “I know! I’m gonna appoint you as my royal singer! BTS oppas will become your royal band. And the EXO oppas will be my royal guards! What would be a great alternative name for your band in Dessert Kingdom? Oh! I’ll call you Seven Fudge Bars. Oh! Oh! What about Golden Cakes? But, I think that suits Jungkook more…”

Taehyung watched lovingly as Eun Na talked on, as he’s always done when the girl talked about her fantasy land. He did not care what ever she calls him and BTS, as ling as she’d always look for him. A smile was forming gradually at his lips as Kang Eun Na was now animatedly swinging her arms around.

He liked how Eun Na had her fingers by her chin while her mouth tilted to the side as she was in deep thought. He liked how her arm points up towards the air while her eyebrows raise up and her mouth forms a small 'o’. He’d love it even more when her voice says excitedly, “How about Jellybeans and Co.?”

At this, Taehyung laughed, his smile the same one as Eun Na had seen during their first day in preschool.

She was amused at Kim Taehyung’s expression when he laughs. BTS had always teased him for having split personalities for he’d be serious and quiet in a minute or so but by the next he’d be so goofy and stupid you’d question his sanity sometimes. At times he was cranky and snobbish (almost as if he’s the handsomest person and earth and that nobody is worthy of his attention. but it is true that he’s attractive af), rolling his eyes everywhere and sending glares at everyone else (but Kang Eun Na). Nevertheless, Eun Na has always liked how he was just the fun Kim Taehyung especially when he was doubling on the floor laughing but, “You look so pained when you laugh! Is it really alright for you to have this much fun?” to which Taehyung would reply at everyone else who says that to him “It’s not my fault my lips are naturally turned downwards. I’m still cute anyways.” Of course, Eun Na doesn’t argue with that one.

“Why Jellybean?” Taehyung asked.

“Because, your smile looks so much like a jellybean! I don’t get why your fan girls in high school even describe it as box-shaped. You ain’t Baekhyun oppa.” She sassily remarked.

“Why is it named after me then? Namjoon hyung’s the leader…” Taehyung watched as Eun Na froze while her cheeks started to become pink. He wanted to chuckle but he knew best than to go through Eun Na’s silent treatment. It had been already worse that his best friend ignored him for three days before, but he internally admits that he likes her so you can imagine the agony he had to go through those 72 hours (all because he laughed at her for getting a really bad haircut. he should have comforted her instead, and that was taken note of).

So, being the scared best friend he was Taehyung shifted the topic, “I guess you’re craving for some jellybeans right now? It’s in the pantry, right? I’ll go get it”

Taehyung got up from the sofa and ventured into the kit hen he knew by heart (read: since childhood) leaving Eun Na thinking, Dummy, I just like your jellybean smile so much…

A week after that day, Kang Eun Na and Kim Taehyung found them so busy with college because their finals weeks were coming up. Nights at each other’s house are spent with differently colored highlighters, notes, and subject books.

Unlike the girl who had to pull out all-nighters just to study, Taehyung was probably the most laid-back person. He studies, yes, but he never experienced ever staying up all night for such petty subjects (especially his chemistry minor subject that had the most heartless teacher who gave the hardest quizzes resulting to low grades of some students EXCEPT Kim Taehyung [huhu, I am so relating this portion based on my experiences. My chemistry professor is really so heartless. She practically ruined my life *cries harder*])

“When will this nightmare end? Taehyung heard a thud by his study table a few nights before the awaited final examinations week. He had finished scanning through his notes hours ago but his best friend was having trouble with her minor biology subject. He looked up to see Eun Na slouching towards the table, her hair creating a canopy that covered her face.

Kang Eun Na had decided to study in Taehyung’s room because he was better with explaining stuff than her lousy professors. It was already eleven in the evening but she was trying her best to memorize confusing names. She had wanted to ask Taehyung for help, but she felt ashamed to do so especially when she looked over at Taehyung by his bed reading a book intently.

She knew when Taehyung was interested in something. It was the way his eyebrows were furrowed in the middle as his mouth soundlessly said the contents of the novel. It was the way he had his fingers by the edge of the next page so that he could easily move on with just a flick of his fingers. It was the way his eyes scanned the contents rapidly. It was the way he had to lick his lips that had become dry with just air exhaled as he spoke silently. It was the way he’d hold the book closer even when he had better eyesight than she did. It was the way he’d reach out at the bedside table for his spectacles that obtained no grade of sort (those round-rimmed glasses that was made for the purpose of fashion).

Eun Na heard a chair being dragged to the space beside her followed by the familiar low octave, "Why aren’t you asking for my help, huh?”

Eun Na looked up momentarily just to see Taehyung facing her way with his head propped up by the arm by the table, his pale skin squishing her already crumpled reviewer papers (because she’d been holding onto them out of frustration while she’s been remembering the terms). Somehow, she wanted to stare longer into his calm eyes, but she chose the opposite as she looked away and resumed her gaze at the reviewer her head was resting on.

“Because you were reading…” she simply explained while she tried really hard to imprint the scientific names in her mind, but nothing was really going in her head especially when she felt a warm hand ruffle the top of her head.

“You know I’d always choose you over a mere book, Nana…” Taehyung commented. As he replayed his statement, his heart hammered against his cheat realization dawning on him that what he said seemed to have given away such a huge hint of his feelings so he swiftly saved his slip-up by adding, “I’m your best friend anyway.”

Taehyung stood up, his hand leaving a warm spot by the top of Eun Na’s hand making her want more of the comfort. However, he was already by the door muttering, “You’re just in need of your constant dose of sweets. My mother baked fudge brownies, I’ll bring up milk too. I’ll be right back.”

As Taehyung’s door clicked close, two hearts breaking into a million pieces suddenly seemed so deafening all because of that painful 'best friends’ card.

“Why’d you want a graphic shirt that says 'Aliens Exist’?” Eun Na burst out in laughter as they were by the Kim’s living room, doing absolutely nothing because school was over for the holidays.

They watched the lights of the nicely decorated Christmas tree beside the huge television flicker in different tempos as Taehyung devoured his own bucket of buttered popcorn while Eun Na ate her big reseal able pack of gummy bears.

The day after the last day of their exams was the annual Christmas party of their university. And, as usual, the students had set the norms that secret santa’s were supposed to give their gifts that day. Taehyung asked for that exact same shirt he is wearing while Eun Na’s was obviously a pack of sweets.

“It’s better than a plastic full of diabetes,” Taehyung commented while he rolled his eyes, a gesture Eun Na was always amused of because his orbs never really actually roll instead they shift from left to right (idk if that’s true but Ill just add that up bc I can’t think of anything else to put in that statement).

“I ain’t ever getting diabetes. Remember the doctor saying that to me during my monthly check-ups?” Yes, Kang Eun Na goes to the clinic monthly to check if somehow she’d posses the said disease over a month of overdosing with lots of sweets.

“You’re really something,” Taehyung chuckled while he faced Eun Na, “You eat tons of sugar, but you ain’t even getting sick! You ain’t even gaining any-”

“Don’t dare say it, Kim Taehyung,” Eun Na warned, her gummy-bear-sticky finger pointing accusingly at her best friend.

But before he could stop himself, he’d finished his statement, “weight…”

Kang Eun Na groaned. It was true, and it bothered her every time. For a skinny girl, she wanted to gain so much weight because she felt ugly with her flesh almost touching her bones if it weren’t for the minimal muscles she had in between.

However, Taehyung never once saw her as an ugly person (probably because when someone likes someone they’d always see the perfection in the person they admire the most). Kang Eun Na wasn’t as pretty as the models he’d seen in television and magazines nor those popular girls in the school he’d attended to. But, Eun Na was enough of a beauty that caused men to turn their heads towards her.

There was just something about Eun Na that was so alluring, physically and emotionally. It was like she’s this sticky caramel sauce people dip apples in during Halloween - you’d be stuck to it without further resistance. But then again, who doesn’t love the unique sweetness of caramel sticking through every part of your mouth? No one.

“What? You’re not that ugly, Nana…” Taehyung commented. This time he was panicking because he slipped once again. This time, he did not want to give the friendship excuse ever again because even though he’d long accepted the truth that there was no 'next level’, it still hurt. So, this time, Kim Taehyung stayed quiet for a while.

Two hearts were beating so loudly against two pair of ears. It was fortunate that the other couldn’t hear them.

Kang Eun Na was used to compliments coming from Kim Taehyung and her busted suitors (she wasn’t that un-pretty. Like Taehyung said, men had to turn their heads when Eun Na pass by. And believe me when I say that Taehyung had to keep in so much self control not to punch the owner of those traveling eyes.), but she couldn’t understand why she’d be feeling this flustered now of all times.

“No one’s ugly for you,” Eun Na coughed awkwardly, “Because you strongly believe that everybody’s beautiful no matter what.”

Bile was unconsciously running up along Eun Na’s throat as she continued, “Especially that block mate of yours who picked you and gave you that shirt.”

Eun Na gasped, her eyes widening, “Oh my Gosh! You totally like that girl! That’s why you’re wearing her gift!” Eun Na had to try so hard in preventing her voice from cracking up, and thankfully, she was successful. She even pinched his cheeks for no reason at all, her force harder than usual.

Taehyung lightly slapped her fingers from his cheek while his hand flew up to massage the swollen area, “First of all, that hurt (he didn’t know whether it was his cheek or the fact that his best friend was dense enough to not know that he likes her instead).”

“Secondly,” Taehyung composed himself, sitting up straight - a tell-tale that Kim Taehyung was telling the truth (and nothing but the truth). “I don’t like Bomi-ssi… I’ve rejected her a few times already, isn’t that enough of a sign that I’m not interested?”

Eun Na had the urge to sigh (in relief) for some reason, but she kept it in as she said, “Whatever. But if someday I do see you having googly eyes over this Bomi girl, you’re going to treat me out to lunch and repeatedly say that I was right all along.”

“And I promise you it ain’t happening,” Taehyung subtly shifted closer to Eun their shoulders grazing closer than it already was, as he continued, “ever.”

Kang Eun Na wanted to let the triumphant grin spread across her face hut she kept it in. She didn’t know why she felt ecstatic at the reassurance or why her heart seemed as if it was experiencing a warm ray of sunshine and a dose of fluffy things.

Kim Taehyung had never been so disappointed in his life. Specifically, he’d never been so disappointed at Kang Eun Na. The way he kept on glaring at his watch and the visible pout showed how disappointed he was.

It was already ten in the evening in his household and his phone kept on flashing tons of messages from people he wasn’t expecting at all. He laid in his bed, wearing the new grey graphic sweatshirt his Suho hyung gave him, waiting rather impatiently for the message coming from the person he was so disappointed with.

Just then, a knock was heard from outside his door. Taehyung immediately rushed to open it, hoping to find a petite girl looking breathless and apologetic as she says, “I’m sorry Tae, Hap-”

But he was disappointed for the millionth time that day as Kim Junmyeon came into view. Although, Taehyung was glad that at least someone smaller than him was by his door.

Suho invited himself inside, not even bothering to wait for his younger brother to let him in. “You seem so disappointed seeing me. Were you not expecting me, dear brother?”

Taehyung flushed at how obvious his expressions were as he silently closed the door He was going to defend himself but his brother spoke up again, “I’m glad you liked my gift.”

“It’s just my style, thanks.” Taehyung plopped himself beside Suho who was sitting by the edge of his bed, his gaze at the ground on the colorful wrappers by one corner.

“You really have to clean your room.” Suho chuckled but laid down beside his younger brother as well, “It’s bad enough that I have to deal with eight messy men, now I have to scold my younger brother.

Kim Junmyeon was in university as well, but Taehyung and him went to different schools. The eldest of them took up a major in acting in some arts school so far away from their hometown. Hence, Kim Junmyeon with his EXO members pursued an apartment for themselves as they all attended the same college. Some took up music while some took up dancing.

Kim Taehyung envied his older brother because Suho got to still perform on a daily basis probably it was a requirement at their school. But, requirement or not, Taehyung knew that his Suho hyung never felt forced to perform on stage.

It’s not like he hated his course. Being an engineer was his dream! But, he also had this strong passion to perform. His BTS friends were as busy as he was because of college despite having coincidentally gone to the same university (But Jeon Jungkook, the youngest, was a graduating senior high school student at Big Hit Academy that meant the golden maknae was so far from where his hyungs studies at). They rarely met as a complete group because projects and quizzes would come up in between. But all of them were understanding members and let each other off eventually.

Bangtan still talked, through group chats, that is. Taehyung was particularly excited for New Year’s Day to end because everyone in their group decided to meet up and perform on a gig at a bar downtown. He was, of course, inviting Kang Eun Na over if only she showed up earlier today.

Taehyung sulked remembering how there was no sight of his best friend anywhere since morning. Not even a message was sent. She doesn’t even pick up her calls. He tried visiting Eun Na’s house but for some reason his parents were preventing him from doing so saying that they’d want to spend the whole day with him for once because they rarely see him with university and stuff. But Taehyung knew that wasn’t true because the Kim family had a daily bonding moment now that their eldest son (Kim Junmyeon) was somewhere far away and that Taehyung was the only child they could spoil at the moment.

"Come on,” Junmyeon patted his shoulder, snapping him out of his miserable thoughts, “We’re eating out tonight. Mom and Dad told me to pick you up.”

Taehyung instinctively followed his brother’s order as he slipped on a pair of faded denim jeans. He took a thick fluffy polyester coat from his chair and slipped it on while he surrounded a red flannel-styled scarf around his neck. “Why’d they think of going out tonight? I’m fine with a simple family dinner.”

“Because,” Suho dragged Taehyung out the house by his shoulders from behind. “Today’s special.”

What had Taehyung grumbling all day about just because Eun Na was nowhere to be found? If it were any other day, the boy wouldn’t be so sulky. But, as Junmyeon had said, today was a special day because the date was December 30.

“I don’t want special treatments during my birthday.” Taehyung whined but he was already fastening his seatbelt on by the passenger’s seat of his hyung’s car. This was one of the things he envied from Kim Junmyeon because apparently performing on part-time gigs made Taehyung’s hyung richer than their parents.

Suho never said anything else as he drove to the destination all the while thinking, right… you’d rather spend the day cuddling with Eun Na. How obvious can you get, dear brother?

Meanwhile, inside the dimly lit household of the Kim’s the lights magically opened up as Mama Kim and Papa Kim sighed in relief. “That was a nice idea hiding inside the coat storage room.”

“Aigoo…” Mrs. Kim had tears in her eyes by now, a satisfied smile decorating her beautifully aging face. “My Taehyungie has grown up.”

“They’ve both grown up” Mr. Kim stated, talking about Taehyung, but not their other son.

“Dinner at an arcade..?” Taehyung asked as he exited the car, Junmyeon following shortly.

“I thought you weren’t for extravagance? Pizza sounds nice, right?” Junmyeon snickered, leaving his younger sibling behind as he hurriedly entered inside.

“Pizza,” Taehyung mumbled sadly not because he hated the greasy taste of such Italian delicacy, but because he recalled Kang Eun Na promising him a few days ago that they’d eat pizza during his birthday. He looked at his phone, still void of a certain girl’s greeting.

It was dark inside the establishment with only the neon glows of word signs and arcade screens illuminating everything else. Taehyung passed along people varied with triumphant or lost expressions.

As a normal teenage boy, Taehyung was fairly fond of video games but the classics were always his favorite. He made a mental note to ask his parents if he could stay back to play some games alone (and maybe sulk even more with Eun Na’s absence).

However, as soon as he went to the table Junmyeon stopped by, he was surprised. His parents weren’t there. Instead, he saw by the table was a huge sculpture in a shape of an alien head. It looked so surreal and detailed that if Taehyung had not looked closer he would have not noticed that it was all made up of pizza crusts and pizza toppings. The huge eyes of the creature were made up of black olives while most of the face was made up of ham, his favorite topping. The sculpture had everything he liked: ham, pizza, and aliens.

And if Taehyung hadn’t looked closer he wouldn’t have seen that signature style from a certain special person.

If Taehyung could describe Kang Eun Na in a few words, (besides Ice Cream Queen, and “My Ultimate Crush”), it was artistic. If he was the king of performance, she was the Goddess of art.

She had this ability to turn anything dull into something extravagant. Her hands had this natural ability to make things so pretty everyone’s jaw would loosen up even before her pieces were done. She had this awesome technique wherein her strokes were so thin and delicate it was as if every detail had another meaningful detail in it.

For some reason, Taehyung had always though his best friend would take up an Arts course or a bachelor’s degree in Architecture, but he also knew that Kang Eun Na’s passion was with the media-press.

She loved telling the truth, spreading respectable and accurate news to everyone who needed to know. She had this way with words that was neither charm speaking nor lies-in-disguise. She was a natural when it came to speeches and debates while her soft voice was the thing Taehyung admired about her the most. It was as if her passion for reporting and art was at par but if Taehyung had to choose, he’d assure Eun Na that drawing was absolutely her thing.

“Happy Birthday, Tae…” the said boy turned around to seen his best friend appear before his eyes, clad in a simple graphic tee and a pair of denim jogger pants while a floral snapback decorated her short-haired crown. She had her arms extended towards his while she held a box wrapped in a simple plain orange wrapper. He knew what it was the instant he recognized it’s dimensions.

He wanted to scream his lung off no matter how girly that sounded. Kang Eun Na bought him the latest release of a ps4 game about aliens and stuff. Yes, he was addicted with the thought of the universe having other inhabitants aside from Earth’s humans. However, he kept it in because he was still a teensy bit mad at his best friend. “Apology not accepted.”

“I wasn’t apologizing, dummy…” Of course, she wouldn’t apologize for being gone the whole day, Taehyung thought sarcastically. But all he needed to hear was a giggle and all disappointment washed put from him.

Somewhere between their exchange, Kim Junmyeon escaped the scene but neither of the two best friends would really give a damn.

“Well, you should,” Taehyung sighed while Eun Na came closer; shoving her present into Taehyung’s chest whole the latter wholeheartedly accepted it. “You were m-i-a the whole day. Where were you?”

As much as Taehyung tried to not sound like a clingy boyfriend (clingy, yes; but boyfriend? sadly, no.), he couldn’t hold it in. Kang Eun Na had always showed up during his birthday the moment the sun rises up on December 30, and this year he would only be with her for most likely less than two hours.

“The place had trouble baking the pizza I ordered and I had to help them to make the job easier. But, it actually took a lot of time especially the sculpting part. You know how much of a perfectionist I am. I almost didn’t get in time to buy that game before it was sold out but Chanyeol oppa did such a huge favor for me.” Eun Na explained as she took her position beside Taehyung, her gaze at the tons of people before her, enjoying the sound of classical video games music and sound effects.

Taehyung waited a bit more for a small sorry, but who was he kidding? Eun Na hadn’t done such a huge sin. She can’t say sorry for such a petty thing. No, Taehyung wouldn’t let her say sorry over something so trivial. “Thank you…”

It was all Taehyung could say, but the gratefulness wanting to burst out from his heart resulted to him giving Eun Na a very tight hug. Taehyung liked how she fit perfectly in his arms, as greasy as that sounded. He especially likes it when Eun Na hugs back, causing his heart to thump so loudly that Eun Na would have heard it if it weren’t for the fact that her heart beat deafened her ears because of the natural physical contact. You are so going to be the death of me, Taehyung, she thought a small smile acknowledging such a foreign fuzzy feeling.

They broke away from each other and spent the rest of the day (They stayed there until 4 in the morning) chatting randomly and finishing the pizza sculpture Eun Na made. Of course, they played some rounds and Taehyung was so disappointed that he’d lose against a woman.

So far, this wasn’t the best birthday, but it wasn’t that bad as well. As long as he’d get to spend time with the Ice Cream Queen, Kang Eun Na, he’d be alright.

Maybe fate was playing with Kim Taehyung’s and Kang Eun Na’s string in the beginning, because it was such a weird coincidence that after a week was Eun Na’s birthday. Basically, Taehyung was older by a week but he was still older. “You should call me oppa,” he’d request every time but he’d earn a punch on the arm in the end.

Taehyung was genuinely not into extravagance and Eun Na’s birthday surprise was no exception. He had simply planned out a day out at an amusement park with Kang Eun Na and surprisingly her parents agree with the permission almost immediately with hidden glints and mischievous smirks behind warm understanding eyes and grins.

However, fate must have been so angry with Kim Taehyung because things weren’t going exactly as planned, not when Byun Baekhyun and Min Yoongi decided to butt in the Only-Taehyung-and-Eun-Na bonding day.

“I don’t get why you’re bundled up in scarves when Amusement Park fashion is off the charts now a days.” Baekhyun commented from Eun Na’s right side. “I mean, why not wear those long sleeved dresses? Or maybe a fashionable sweatshirt and a pair of denim jumper pants? I heard boys dig girls in those attires”

“Baekhyun oppa, I don’t care if I’m behind trend. Moreover, I certainly don’t care about what boys like now-a-days. I’d just like to enjoy this day with my favorite oppas.” Eun Na sighed. Why would she even bother dressing up nicely when she was freezing to the bones despite the warm packs underneath her thick jackets and cashmere scarves?

“I thought Taehyung was your only favorite oppa,” Yoongi snickered sneaking a glance at the mentioned boy from behind.

Kim Taehyung had no other choice but to lag behind (sulking, at that matter) for Baekhyun had taken up Eun Na’s right arm while Yoongi was at the other side.

It was mean how his hyungs teased him so much when they knew of Taehyung’s feelings for the girl in between them. The moment Yoongi and Baekhyun heard of the news about Taehyung and Eun Na going out together at an amusement park as a form of celebration, a mischievous plan formed in their brains: Make Kim Taehyung Jealous “as fuck” (Yoongi’s words) while We Subtly Flirt and Cling On To Kang Run Na. Unlike Taehyung, their plan was a huge success and they weren’t even through half of the plan.

“He ain’t my oppa,” Eun Na snickered and turned back too, making Taehyung’s scowl deepen as he had his arms stiffly crossed against his chest. “And all EXO oppas and BTS oppas are my favorite. I won’t be biased when it comes to my oppas.”

“Awww,” Baekhyun clung closer to Eun Na, encircling his hands at Eun Na’s arms as he slightly bent down so that he could place his head on top of the girl’s shoulder. Of course, being the one at the back, Taehyung witnessed a lot of physical contact making his blood boil even more. “And here I thought we were your top oppas.”

Before anymore contact was executed, Taehyung butted in from behind, forcefully separating Baekhyun and Eun Na with his arms. He stood in front and removed Yoongi’s grip from Eun Na’s arm, “Give Eun Na some space. It looks like you’re squishing her too much.” he explained.

When he saw Eun Na look at him in confusion, he cleared his throat and contained his blush before continuing, “Besides, shouldn’t we start going on rides now? I mean, its not like our ticket is available forever.”

Baekhyun and Yoongi snickered to themselves but kept a distance from Eun Na. Meanwhile, the little girl skipped until she was beside Taehyung. "Let’s go on that ride then!”

The whole morning was spent on extreme rides and it was fortunate that none of them had this phobia with scary rides that made riding all the more fun. Of course, Baekhyun and Yoongi stayed by Eun Na’s side the whole day but there were times when Taehyung would have Eun Na to himself, even if it was just a while.

After their lunch break (where in to two older men fed Eun Na with their chopsticks, ignoring Taehyung’s glare that bore holes in their mischievous heads), they all lay-low and decided to go through haunted houses and un-strenuous rides. They even went to those small booths that gave away a prize for every win. The three boys all had won huge stuffed toys for Eun Na, but in the end they had to carry it for her until the end of the day. Yoongi held onto a kitten doll, Baekhyun hugged a huge puppy doll while Taehyung had a monkey doll wrapped around his neck as it’s body dangled on his back.

It was six in the evening when they caught sight of a theater, and they were lucky enough that it was filming the latest movie: Star Wars.

The three boys exclaimed in glee, being the hard-core fan boys they were, “Oh My God! I’ve been waiting so long for episode seven to be released!”

Kang Eun Na was not a fan of Star Wars. She tried to by watching the first Star Wars, but not even halfway through the movie she fell asleep. She suggested staying outside and waiting for them until the movie finishes, but seeing the excitement in Taehyung’s eyes made her come in the theater as well.

It was nine in the evening when the movie finished. The three boys and Eun Na came out the former looking so hyped up and the latter rolling her eyes.

“How could you even sleep in most of the scenes?” Baekhyun asked Eun Na frantically.

“You didn’t even get to see the awesome alien creatures! They were so awesome!” Taehyung fan-boyed next.

“You’re being too biased when you actually wake even before a romantic scene.” Yoongi muttered, amused at Eun Na weird trait.

Eun Na had a knack for romance almost as if she had radar out for sending romance even before it happened. Sadly, it didn’t apply to Taehyung and her and it forever made her clueless.

“I can’t even relate to the story. I mean, I can’t even remember their names! And don’t ever force me to watch episode one. Although, I did enjoy watching that first scene when that black guy and the awesome pilot flew that ship, it was ultimate bromance.” Eun Na giggled. It was a shame nobody would even think of shipping the couple she made up.

The bright lights of the park rides illuminated the whole place and somehow it seemed more packed than it was that morning.

“I overheard people talking about some fireworks show tonight,” Baekhyun muttered while he munched on a hot bread, the crumbs cutely settling at the side of his lips.

They passed by the Ferris wheel, instantly agreeing not to ride on it because the end of the line was nowhere to be seen (exaggerating of course). “That explains the booming population. I swear if I see another couple I’m gonna throw up.” Yoongi complained, but they were all used to it because Min Yoongi was that irritable. But, upon the next couple they passed by, he just grumpily took a bite out of his burrito.

“I’d like to watch some fireworks,” Eun Na stated, her fingers pinching from the huge blue cotton candy she and Taehyung shared. The two best friends were walking ahead beside each other, somehow walking closer because the evening air was harsh and because they were eating the same food

Baekhyun and Yoongi knowingly looked at each other and that was when they concluded that their work here was done.

The group of four walked until they settled by the green grass of the amusement park where the fireworks display was going to happen. This time, the two older men let Taehyung sit beside Eun Na as they stood up and excused themselves for they were going to buy some more snacks. But, obviously the two weren’t going to return.

The green grass was soon filled with tons of people, but Taehyung and Eun Na didn’t mind. Luckily, they picked a great spot that over looked the slope of the park filled with people while they had a clear view of the dark night sky.

Eun Na and Taehyung liked the winter season (but not the coldness that comes with it) for they were always fascinated with how the nights were longer and how the sky seems so darker than it usually was.

As the two waited for the show to happen, completely forgetting Baekhyun and Yoongi’s presence, they chatted normally. At times, Taehyung would have his head by Eun Na’s lap as her fingers treaded with his tinted hair, while sometimes Eun Na would have her back lying down on Taehyung’s thighs. The physical contact brought forth so much butterflies, but it wasn’t taken into notice as the two just simply enjoyed each other’s company.

In a few minutes or so, the first streak of red sparks flew into the sky until it exploded into tinier red sparks. A whole lot more colorful streaks followed after and a series and of 'ooh’ and 'aah’s resonated through the park.

Taehyung and Eun Na had their attention now at the night display, but after a few while, the boy turned to face his best friend. Isn’t it already so redundant if I said that Eun Na took Taehyung’s breath away? Is it too greasy to tell in detail that the sparkle in the girl’s eyes was what drew Taehyung closer to her? Would it be too cruel to say that as much as Taehyung wanted to lean, he held himself back?

“Happy Birthday,” despite the loud booms and gasps and sighs, Eun Na heard Taehyung’s soft whisper. Another firework, a gold hue this time, blasted across the sky and the light reflected at Eun Na’s cheeks made her all the more mesmerizing.

“Thanks Tae…” Eun Na smiled softly before she turned her attention to the colors painting the dark background, the noise around her thankfully drowning the sound of her heart beating so loudly. I know what this is… she thought.

Taehyung looked up as well, feeling so content to just have his best friend by his side; their clothed arms brushing along each other. He wasn’t sad at the fact that he could never have Eun Na the way he wanted to have her, but when he felt the said girl leaning on his shoulder he wanted to cry right then, because the cruel truth was too much to handle. But of course, he kept his heart broken tears in.

“Sing me a song, Tae…” Eun Na whispered, her warm breath causing puff of smoke to become visible through the air. Somehow, the warmth traveled all the way to Taehyung’s exposed neck bringing so much shivers because of the temperature contrast.

Taehyung was quick to respond as he quietly sings Eun Na a 'Happy Birthday’. But, even through the festive noise, Eun Na still heard the voice she loves so much.

When the song was done, Taehyung and Eun Na were both silent. It was too quiet that the two of them were afraid that the other could hear how loud their hearts were beating because of their very close proximity.

“I’m gonna have gummy worms fireworks when I’m Ice Cream Queen.” Eun Na mumbled but Taehyung caught that whispered words and chuckled at how forever adorable his best friend is.

The holidays were almost over and a new semester was around the corner. Taehyung and Eun Na decided to spend the rest of their vacation bundled up in thick blankets and binge watching their old-time favorite movie.

That night was Taehyung’s turn to sleep by Eun Na’s house. And so, by seven in the evening, the two were by the living room, having a bowl of freshly-popped popcorn and two big bottles of sodas separately for the both of them. Taehyung was by the DVD player, putting in the CD with the movie entitled “Get A Clue”

Kang Eun Na found it cute that such young teenagers were this open-minded about things. It amused her even more when they knew so much than when she was their age. But then again, it was all in the script so they may not have been that clever at all in real life. However, this movie still proved to be Taehyung and Eun Na’s classic favorite over time.

The movie finished so late in the night that Eun Na could already hear her parents snoring loudly from their room. The bowls and bottle were long finished halfway through the movie as the black screen projected the cast rolling upwards. Taehyung and Eun Na were drowsily trying to stay awake, their eyes drooping so low that they weren’t aware how the cast section was almost done.

It was when the intro music played and Eun Na’s head leaning sleepily on his shoulders did Taehyung wake up. He looked to his side and realized that his best friend was practically leaning against his whole right arm, her legs curled and placed on top of his right thigh.

The boy carefully leaned and reached for the remote control with his free arm and turned off everything else. He carefully peeled his best friend away from him, amused at how sleepy she was despite 10 o'clock being too early for her to go to bed.

Taehyung fixed up their mess and went into the kitchen where he placed everything neatly on their proper places. He went back for Eun Na and carried her to her bed. All the while, Eun Na’s warm exhales ghosted over Taehyung’s neck. He prayed so hard that the girl in his arms would not wake up to the loud beating of his heart.

Lately, Kim Taehyung’s heart was abnormally and more frantically beating than usual when it came to matters about Kang Eun Na. At first, he thought the acceleration would hurt because of the harsh reality that they were never going over that 'best friends forever’ line. But, he was surprised to feel so fuzzy all over that it was as if his insides were made up of sunshine and lollipops.

When they reached Eun Na’s door, Taehyung lightly pushed it open with his foot, knowing exactly how his best friend hated leaving her door completely closed whenever she was out from it. (But, she hated it even more when she is actually inside and some intruder - Kim Taehyung, mostly - would leave it open). Weird was an understatement but Taehyung was used to it because nothing could compare to how weird it was to rule an imaginary sugary land.

Kim Taehyung laid Eun Na in her bed gently, his body weight following after wards as a quiet 'oof’ escaped his lips. They lied on top of her thick blanket with Taehyung just staring at Eun Na’s sleeping face. How many times had he seen this that he’d even anticipate her sleeping habits even before they happened? A lot of times, obviously.

And for those times, Taehyung had always been so cautious although it was thrilling to think that he’d get to let his hands ghost over the curve of her waist, not really making physical contact. There were times when he got to carefully hugging her closer with his arm making contact with her back that it was almost scandalous if it weren’t for the fact that his feelings and thoughts were pure.

This time, however, Kim Taehyung dared to be a little bit more adventurous as he was unhesitant in pulling Eun Na closer, his head leaning closer as well until the tip of their noses were a millimeter apart. With his free hand, he tugged the blanket over the lower part of their body, his gaze never leaving Eun Na’s closed lids. The normal frantic beating of his heart seemed so natural that he didn’t bother taking notice of it. His eyes were tempted to linger at Eun Na’s pink lips but he knew it would be a far more dangerous temptation if he gave into the first one.

Her lips were a sin he was willing to fall into, but Taehyung held in because reality harshly slapped him in that face that he was her most respected best friend (well, he was the only best friend), and he would never do anything that might break her trust.

So, in the end, Taehyung continued staring at her close features his eyes drooping into a close. At the back of his mind he knew that he should go to his room, but the darkness of the room and the overflowing contentment soon lulled him to sleep so closely beside Kang Eun Na.

He knew he should have fought the drowsiness of his eyes because the next morning he earned a hard smack in his left arm from his lovely best friend. It was normal, the friendly violence, but what was weird was her hand clutching her chest as if something was gonna burst out from it.

Of course, Kang Eun Na did not immediately slap her best friend when she opened her eyes and saw Taehyung sleeping closely beside her. She took her time admiring how attractive her best friend was all this time. She reminisced moments she had with Kim Taehyung and relished in the warmth the morning sunrays bore on her back and the sunshine rising in her heart. It was when she was aware of her rapidly beating heart and the pink creeping along her cheeks did she slap Kim Taehyung in the arms. But she swears, she didn’t mind waking up to such an adorable sight of Taehyung by her side.

It was the first time a dark aura surrounded Kang Eun Na and Kim Taehyung when they were going home from their first day of the second semester. The boy’s bag was filled with pink letters threatening to spill out from its zipper while the girl had so much struggle holding onto numerous paper bags containing heart-shaped chocolates.

It seems as though a lot of people missed Eun Na and Taehyung over the holidays for as soon as it was their break time, they were bombarded by gifts and live confessions. And, of course, from different sides of the campus, Eun Na and Taehyung sympathetically rejected their admirers.

It was some kind of luck that the two best friends still had the same time frame in their new schedules. And so, they’ve decided to go home together again. They took note of the pink letters and boxed chocolates before shrugging them off and walking to the gates. It had been fairly normal that they’d receive confessions daily (Taehyung especially).

However, it was unfortunate that both at a same time two last minute admirers approached them.

It wasn’t Taehyung’s intention to eavesdrop on the confession, but he couldn’t help it. By the end of the speech, Taehyung was surprised to have found Eun Na speechless. It made his blood boil making him try so hard to shift his attention to the girl confessing to him.

This girl was pretty, with ling shiny brown hair and round squishy cheeks. Her eyes were so round it was hard not to get lost in them. But, no matter how hard he stared at this girl, he just didn’t like her because she wasn’t Kang Eun Na. He heard his best friend mutter a soft, 'I’m sorry’ after a while. He should be relived (okay, maybe he was a little relieved), but his irritation was prominent because the momentary silence before her response proved that she was contemplating this instantly labeled “dickhead” (Taehyung swore he should spend less time with his Yoongi hyung, his vocabulary was going to be messed up) confession. What angered him the most was that he didn’t have to right to act like a jealous boyfriend because he wasn’t even her boyfriend in the first place.

“Oppa?” It made a bile rise up at Eun Na’s throat as she listened to this girl confess to Taehyung, she barely even listened to her confessor. She almost didn’t respond, almost resulting to given her hopeless admirer false hopes, because the girl’s guts of actually boasting about how she had known Taehyung the moment he went through the doors at their pre-school orientation day surprised Eun Na so much she almost ripped the hair out of her small scalp. But she held it in, calmly rejecting the boy in front of her.

Eun Na repeatedly chanted that she had no right jealous, and somehow she hoped that Taehyung would reject this unknown girl like every other girl who confessed to him. But what came out of Taehyung’s mouth almost made Eun Na lose it, “Yeah, sure, I’m free this weekend.”

Taehyung heard himself sounding too calm he patted himself on his back for not showing how jealous he was. If Eun Na somehow liked this boy even though his best friend rejected him, he could also like someone else, right? Maybe it was time he moved on. Because this one-sided love story was useless. He saw the girl’s eyes twinkle, but as much as he wanted to forget about it, Taehyung couldn’t help but compare to how Kang Eun Na’s were a hundred times brighter than his confessor, whose name was somewhere along Cha Yoon Ji.

After numbers were exchanged, Taehyung and Eun Na carried on to walking home. It was Eun Na’s turn o sleep in the Kim’s house, but all the way there, nobody spoke a word. The Kim parents were surprised at the heavy atmosphere but kept quiet at that because they knew that sooner or later Taehyung and Eun Na would make up in a few days time.

Oh how wrong were they all when a month had already passed. Kim Taehyung and Kang Eun Na stayed silent in each other’s presence although they stuck by each other and even continuing on with their sleepover tradition.

The girl named Cha Yoon Ji constantly clung onto Taehyung’s side and eventually hung out with the silent best friends. It irritated Eun Na to the core but she kept in mind that she had no business in Taehyung’s love affairs. Then, she somehow could not ignore anymore how her heart was breaking into pieces at the sight of Yoon Ji and Taehyung being so close like how he and Eun Na used to be.

Taehyung felt the same as Kang Eun Na’s admirers skyrocketed now that the men assumed that Kim Taehyung was no longer a potential boyfriend for his best friend because he was “in a relationship, if you even call trying-so-hard-to-get-away-from-Cha-Yoon-Ji-subtly as dating. He swore that his arm was gonna fall off with his admirer constantly draping her hands around it. Although, he knew that if it was Kang Eun Na doing that, he wouldn’t mind.

He knew it was childish of him to even stick on with a girl he doesn’t like just to make things even with the girl he does like. He wanted this whole misunderstanding with Cha Yoon Ji to stop, but the latter would not even listen to his gentle rejection. "Look, Yoon Ji, you’ve been nice and all, but I’m really not into a relationship at the moment.”

“I’ll wait, oppa” Yoon Ji would reply as if his statement wasn’t even serious at all, like she had a different understanding of what he meant.

Of course, Eun Na heard what Taehyung’s “girlfriend” said. And if she wasn’t telling herself not to mess with Taehyung’s personal problems anymore, she would have screamed in the girl’s face: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU WOMAN?! CAN’T YOU GET THE HINT THAT KIM TAEHYUNG DOESN’T WANT TO DATE YOU?!

But then again, Eun Na might have been the one to misunderstand the situation. What if Taehyung was really just waiting for the right time to ask Cha Yoon Ji to be his girlfriend? Its been a month since they’ve spoken normally and somehow it made Eun Na wonder if she still knew who the real Taehyung is.

Did he still take such an obsession over aliens? Was his favorite color still black and white (i’m not sure with this one lol)? Was he still passionate with singing and dancing? Was he doing fine in school? Did he still consider her as his best friend? Was he missing her like how much she misses him? Did he even like her like how she recently admitted that she likes Kim Taehyung, her best friend?

It was childish of Kang Eun Na to even keep on such a silent grudge when it just happened all of a sudden without a reason at all. Or, maybe she was just shy to admit that she was jealous of how Kim Taehyung has taken interest on another girl who wasn’t her.

But, it wasn’t like Kim Taehyung belonged to her. In his eyes, she was probably just a very close friend and he might even think that she thinks of him as just her best friend. Oh, how badly did Eun Na want to clear up the misunderstandings with a simple confession, but a lifetime worth of their wonderful friendship was too much of a sacrifice. (As Taehyung had once said. Arent they really just so meant-to-be having thought of the same thing?)

Maybe it was in between the time Eun Na and Taehyung were avoiding each other did the former realize her true feelings towards the latter, but she was positively sure it all started way back even before her mind-blowing realization.

One night, Eun Na lied on her bed, reaching down below for her secret stash of sweets. There used to be an assortment of wrapped sweetness, but recently Eun Na craved for jellybeans. It was the closest she had of Kim Taehyung for she was missing his toothy jellybean smile the most. And it made her heart flutter that mostly she was the reason behind those smiles.

Her head softly thudded on the wall as she munched on a red jellybean, frustrated at the clenching of her heart. Kim Taehyung was just a wall away but somehow it seemed as though he’s too far out of her reach in just one month.

It was beyond her knowledge that Kim Taehyung was sulking at the other side of the wall because he is missing Kang Eun Na even more than she was missing him. His long arms stretched out and pulled put a pack of jellybeans, munching on them even though he wasn’t a fan of sugar. He’d recently been seeing Eun Na sneakily popping jellybeans in her mouth although he was confused as to why she had to keep it in secret when everybody knew her recent obsession with the chewy jellybeans.

As his mouth was full of chewy sugar, a sudden thought popped out from Taehyungs mind. A plan suddenly came up as if the idea came with it like a full-package. But, as he repeatedly run over through the arrangement, he never had felt so nervous in his life like at that moment. Because, all he thought of the entire night was, I guess its now or never

That night, Eun Na couldn’t sleep as well, the same thought running over her mind in a cycle, her heart feeling so nervous and anxious that she wished she could just get it done and over with. Although at the back of her mind she hoped she would be successful and that everyone would live happily ever after (except Cha Yoon Ji and Kang Eun Na’s admirers).

As soon as the first scent of morning pancakes wafted through the Kang’s household, the daughter woke up instantly for she barely had any sleep last night. As she trudged downstairs to help her mother fix their breakfast table, her thoughts were clouded with how she was going to end this unexpected war between her and Taehyung.

Meanwhile, Taehyung had woken up even before Eun Na’s mother ordered her to wake the boy up as what he had been doing during their one-month silence. And, like Kang Eun Na, he was deep in thought with Kang Eun Na’s name constantly engulfing his mind. He might appear calm and newly awakened physically, but he really was a nervous wreck inside.

As during the past 5 weeks of the month, Eun Na and Taehyung ate in silence although they sat next to each other, their shoulders barely brushing but not so. And during the past few days, it had been a new routine that one of them would excuse themselves after their meal and walk away, not even having the usual chat with their best friend.

“Wanna go somewhere?” Taehyung casually asked, making Mr. and Mrs. Kang look up from their meal with surprised faces. As if on cue, their eyes shifted to their daughter who somehow stopped her fork movements, but her gaze was still trained on the half-eaten pancake

It was when Eun Na felt a nudge on her side did she look up, her eyes round and wide like saucers. When she looked at her side, Taehyung couldn’t help but chuckle softly, a chuckle Eun Na hasn’t heard in a while and misses so much. “What…?”

“I was asking if you wanna go somewhere today.” Taehyung leaned back on his chair, his eyes trained on Eun Na as if her nosy parents weren’t in the room. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “The weather’s fine outside, so, why not?”

Eun Na knew Taehyung was lying, because it was so gloomy outside despite the late hour in the morning. But she was amazed at how calmly her best friend was hiding his obvious lie. “Don’t you want to ask Yoon Ji out? I’m sure she’d be glad to hang out with you…”

Taehyung raised his brow. What has this got to do with Cha Yoon Ji? Nonetheless, he came backed, “Oh, so you won’t be glad hanging out with me, Kim Taehyung, your best friend?”

“Now, you call yourself my best friend as if the last few days didn’t even happen…” Eun Na sarcastically said and at this her parents excused herself, sensing how the atmosphere was turning heavier. But neither the two teenagers minded, they were busy glaring into each other’s eyes.

Taehyung wanted to shout and ask what Eun Na meant about her statement, but he kept it in and just diverted the topic, “Just… Can we please go somewhere out today?”

Maybe it was the way his eyes were shaking dejectedly; or the way he hung his head down - the tinge of dark green hair dye still looking great on Kim Taehyung; or maybe it was the glee that the boy finally spoke to her normally; but Kang Eun Na eventually sighed and gave in. “Give me 5 minutes and I’ll be down. We can go to the park.”

Taehyung almost let out a sigh of relief, but he kept it in. Although, the grin he tried to suppress still showed anyways.

Eun Na peeked at Taehyung’s reaction and she couldn’t control her heart pounding against her chest when she saw Kim Taehyung’s sweet jellybean smile. Maybe I should bring my pack o’ beans with me today…

Kim Taehyung knew that Eun Na’s 5 minutes wasn’t enough of a preparation. And so, 30 minutes later, the duo were outside the house, their felt crunching on the snowy pavement. The park Eun Na suggested to visit wasn’t that far so they decided to walk all the way towards their destination.

Unlike their maddening silence before, this time Eun Na and Taehyung talked about subtle jokes all the way. Their voice grew louder and merrier as if their month-long indifference never happened. It wasn’t until they reached the playground did they realize that they missed each other more than they thought they did.

The park was empty, void of hyperactive toddlers and so the swing were theirs to occupy. Eun Na sat on one seat while Taehyung sat on the swing beside her. They moved their feet subtly, swinging simultaneously.

The two stared up at the gloomy sky, such a contrasting atmosphere over such gleeful hearts, the harsh wind of February hitting their warm cheeks and the quiet surrounding about to broadcast the loudness of the thump in Taehyung and Eun Na’s chest. Somehow, despite the internal chaos, they both seemed at peace.

Taehyung sincerely missed Eun Na. He missed spending Valentines Day with his best friend where in they’d pull a prank on couples out on dates, ruining as much but not going as far as making them break up. Somehow, the both of them were blending in with the trend, that there was no such thing as forever. But both strongly believe that there is eternity with soul mates or 'the one’s. It made the boy sad that his Valentines night was spent with a sappy romantic drama and a big bowl of ice cream, his agony poured onto big scoops of fattening calories. Eun Na did something similar, but she did not want Taehyung to know.

The boy took a closer look at his best friend beside him who was swinging higher from the ground. Her long swings brought forth a stronger gust of wind but all he could sense was her sweet candy smell mixed along the air. His eyes lingered on her flowing hair and that was when he realized that her short hair had grown longer by an inch. As if everything was in slow motion, Taehyung noticed how Eun Na’s facial features turned a bit more mature and edged, but her childish squishiness was still more dominant. Her figure was no different for he noticed that the sleeves of her not-so-new sweatshirt seemed baggy on her arms. Her toned legs were even more prominent with a pair of skinny jeans he noticed was new and a size smaller. He noticed too that her fingers were polished even more beautifully as a clean hue of dark velvet blue he had never once seen before on her colored her nails. He also took note of how her eyes stuck out from her face because of the thin eyeliner surrounding it - a new feature Taehyung just recently noticed.

Kim Taehyung noticed a lot more difference in Kang Eun Na now with the Kang Eun Na then, but all he could conclude was that he missed her so much both as a loyal best friend and a secret admirer. And that was when everything stopped as realization took place, his hearting beating faster in nervousness. He remembered why he had asked Eun Na out of the house on such a gloomy day. “Hey, Nana…?”

Eun Na had to stop swinging so high, letting her feet serve as the brakes from her momentum. She faced Taehyung, instantly noticing his distressed expression. Despite the drastic (and by drastic, it meant that Kim Taehyung looked a bit manlier than before. Just a bit, but Kang Eun Na still noticed it) change, she was glad his expression never changed. “Is something the matter, Tae…?”

The boy took a huge sigh before he spoke, his heart threatening to jump out of his ribcage any moment now, “First of all, I want to say sorry. You know, for suddenly ignoring you the past few days and then just suddenly talking to you out of the blue…”

“You see,” Taehyung scratched the back of his neck, something Eun Na found so adorable and that the feeling intensified now that she was aware of her feelings for him, “I miss you, Kang Eun Na, my best friend so much and…”

Eun Na didn’t bother listening anymore because Taehyung brought up the 'best friend’ card again. She bitterly thought how he’d always see her as his close friend. And, it may sound so selfish of her, but Kang Eun Na needs to voice out what she really feels.

“Tae, you have to listen to me first.” Eun Na held a hand up, but Taehyung kept blabbering, “I mean, you barely knew that boy. Or maybe you do know him, but I don’t…”

“I’m sorry too, Tae. But… Listen to what I have to say…”

“It’s not like I don’t like the fella. Wait, no, I don’t like him that way. I am so into women. No! I meant to say that I am a straight guy. And by straight, I mean a guy who wants a female as a lifelong partner-”

“I get what you mean. But really, I don’t like that guy, whoever you are talking about… Taehyung, listen to me…”

“-But, I am also so not interested in Cha Yoon Ji… I mean, I don’t like her like how she likes me… Do you get what I mean…?-”

“Yeah, I do, and I’m glad that’s how you feel about her… But… ugh, that’s not what I’m going to say-!”

“-Wait, let me finish, Nana… As I’ve said, I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you ever since that guy confessed to you…-”

“Which guy-?”

“-And I know I shouldn’t be feeling such things, but… Idon'tknowIwasjustsojealous-”

“What? Hey slow down Taehyung-!”

“-andthereasonbehindthatisbecause-”

“I don’t under- Kim Taehyung, calm down-!”

“Kang Eun Na, you better not ignore me after I say it-”

“But, Taehyung, I don’t understand-!”

“-And we better be STILL best friends if this doesn’t go as planned-”

“Am I just a best friend in your eyes? Is that what you’re saying-?!”

It would have been so much romantic if the clouds started to get darker as the sky emitted low growls of thunder. But, the surrounding just stayed gloomy, rendered of the much awaited rain.

Nonetheless, Eun Na was almost bubbling up in anger. Kim Taehyung should be the first to know that his best friend hated being interjected even though she is the one interjecting the flow of Taehyung’s statement. And his constant blabbering was throwing Eun Na off the edge, especially when he said those two words again.

In the spur of the moment, with Eun Na’s hands gripping the string of the swing so tight that her knuckles turned white and Taehyung’s mouth emitting strings of continuous nonsensical words, it was almost a coincidence that at the very exact time they said,

“I like you! Wait, what?”

“You, what…?” Taehyung asked, his finger cleaning his ears as if he heard wrongly.

“No… You said… You…?” Eun Na refused to answer. Were her ears playing tricks on her now?

“No, you say it first. Ladies first.” Taehyung teased but his heart was feeling more nervous than before.

“That’s so sexist. Ladies don’t always have to go first.” Eun Na rolled her eyes, ignoring the unending thump in her chest.

“I thought you wanted the guys in your Dessert Kingdom to be chivalrous towards ladies. That is very sexist of you, Ice Cream Queen.”

“Don’t you dare bring my dream into this, Kim Taehyung. I’m asking you what you said to me.” Eun Na glared.

“I asked you first.” Taehyung retorted, not even shaken by the fact that he was pissing his best friend (a girl) off. He used up all his courage in saying those three words; he cannot confess the second time!

“We asked at the same time, stupid.” Eun Na stood up, frustrated with how things were being made even more difficult by her stupid best friend whom she likes so much.

“Well then,” Taehyung stands up as well, towering over Kang Eun Na’s (cute) smaller height, hoping to come off as even more intimidating that the midget female. “Why don’t we say it together?”

“And not understand each other again? No way!” Eun Na huffed. It was a spur of the moment confession and the girl didn’t know if she could ever say those words again. She spun around, anxiety taking the best of her as her cheeks turned a darker shade of red by the seconds that passed by.

She was about to take grudging stomps away from Taehyung and back home, but a warm and firm grip on her wrist prevented her from doing so. Even more so when she felt a force tug her backward, almost losing her balance with the slippery ground if it weren’t for the reassuring hold around her waist. “I told you to say it together with me, Nana…”

If she wasn’t trying to act calm, she would have just fainted because… HOLY MOTHER OF LOVE, KIM TAEHYUNG’S FACE WAS THIS CLOSE WITH HERS! But of course, she kept it in.

“Just like old times…? Together…?”

Eun Na saw through Taehyung’s eyes the child she befriended that day a few years back. And when Taehyung’s eyes turned into crescents, she remembered his beautiful jellybean smile, the smile she loves so much. She suddenly forgot about chocolates, and ice cream, and gummy worms, and marshmallows, and lollipops, and Oreos, and sweet cakes, and pancakes, and cupcakes, and all the other sweet in the world. All, except one. Jellybeans

“I like you, Kim Taehyung.” - “I like you Kang Eun Na”

Kang Eun Na had one dream, and that was to rule over Dessert Kingdom where everything was made of sweets, sweets, and more sweets! Her only request was that her royal subjects would call her Queen Jellybeans and that she would live happily ever after with her beloved King Jellybeans, Kim Taehyung the best friend.

“They’re being so cheesy, hyung!” Baekhyun whined, signaling to Kim Junmyeon who was bent over a bush, spying on his younger sibling from afar as the latter fed Kang Eun Na spoonful of chocolate cake

“You’re just jealous, Taehyung has a better love life than you,” Yoongi nonchalantly commented even though he was cringing so much at the greasy public display of affection.

“You are supposed to call me 'hyung’. I thought we were partners-in-crime.”

“That was until I knew that you have such a pitiful love life, it’s so embarrassing.”

“Yah! Brat! As if you have a greater love life than me!” Baekhyun pouted but the glare in his eyes meant that he was definitely not acting cute. (Definitely!)

Yoongi glared back, his tongue tied because he had no proof. He was as love-life-less as Byun Baekhyun and it made him want to take back his rude words. But then, Baekhyun deserved them because he left Min Yoongi alone in the amusement park during Kang Eun Na’s birthday. Yoongi was about to open his mouth and let scandalous profanities naturally roll out from his tongue, but Kim Junmyeon stopped them.

“They’re on the move.”

“Are they still following us?” Eun Na asked, but she knew she shouldn’t ask the obvious especially when Baekhyung and Yoongi were shouting at each other (“Be quiet, they’ll hear us!” Junmyeon scolded)

Taehyung and Eun Na sighed, but they continued walking along the clear pavement. When the girl leaned her head over Taehyung’s shoulder, he instinctively shuffled from his bag and popped a jellybean in his girlfriend’s mouth.

“I didn’t ask for a jellybean, but thanks anyway,”

“You don’t have to; I know how much you like them. And, I like you, too.”

“You were talking about jellybeans, not yourself,”

“Ugh hyung! They’re being cheesy again!” Who else would it haven been if it weren’t the partners-in-crime?

“Keep Quiet!” and of course, that was Suho.

“We can hear you!”

COPYRIGHT 151225 (AFF) & 170102. DO NOT RE-POST.

[leominster1941]

Leominster History - World War II and the Women’s Land Army.

Contributed by

Richard Edeson

People in story: Amelia (Mitzi) Edeson Location of story: Leominster Article ID: A2049086 Contributed on: 16 November 2003

This my Mothers Story She would love to hear from anyone who remembers her.

I joined the W L A in March 1942  I received my uniform at home, trying on the corduroy breeches was a laugh, they were laced at the knees and trying to bend my legs was difficult. There were knee length woolen stockings, brown leather shoes, cream shirts, green jumpers, a lovely three-quarter-length dark beige with white wool lining coat, beige hat, and a wide leather belt. We got the rest, wellies, overalls, big oilskin Mac's etc when we got to the hostel. My brothers worked in engineering in Leeds, they told my tearful mother they would see me safely on to the train. My destination was Leominster in Herefordshire, we had never heard of the place, never having been any further than Scarborough or Bridlington. When we arrived at the station my brothers said “there is a compartment with some more land girls in so come on”. I said my goodbyes to them and settled in my seat. We were all looking at each other, so I said “I'm going to Leominster where are you going”? We were all going to the same place, by the time we were half way there we were friends. We were met in Leominster by a smart lady with her utility van. She told us she was our clerk driver, she would be driving us to the farms where we were to do field work. We were to live in a hostel in the village of Kingsland, the hostel was a single storied Wooden building standing in a field. It was shaped like a letter T, the long part was the kitchen and common room, at the other end there was an ablution block with two baths, three showers and toilets. The dormitory was a long room with bunk beds, two wardrobes and a dressing table, War Department very utility, placed so that they made little rooms. I chose a top bunk it was strange at first, but I got used to it. We had a couple of days to get acclimatised, Miss Freeman, (Margaret) was very nice but she seemed a bit posh to us northern lasses. She took us round to meet some of the farmers who weren't too keen to have us, but we were cheap labour, and it was War times. I expect their thoughts were mixed when they saw us town girls, most of us were around five feet two inches and weighed about eight stones. They must have thought they'll not last, they were wrong we tackled all the jobs, although I expect many of us hadn't seen a spade let alone used one.

Our jobs were many and varied, hoeing oh so boring! Thistle bodging, stone picking, hay making, stacking corn, building hay and wheat ricks, loading the carts and leading the horses for the ploughing. I was leading Daisy and Blossom one day, as I was turning them at the end of the row, one of them trod on my foot. “The great big cart horse didn't heed my frantic calls, so I shouted to the ploughman, the buggers on my foot” he just laughed but he managed to move it. They were amused at us townies which made us all the more determined to show them. Spud planting and picking was a hated job especially picking in the rain, struggling to pull our feet out of that mud, some times leaving our wellies behind, dragging our buckets along and longing to be rained off. Harvesting was not lovely as some paintings would have you believe, it was very hard work in the days before the combine harvesters. The corn was cut and harvested and we followed, picked up the sheaves and stacked them, then if it rained we had to turn them and hope they would dry, then we would pitch them up onto the carts, where one of would load it. It was a skilled job if it wasn't on right the whole load would topple over. I liked that job and soon got the knack of building the corners and keeping the load straight. One day after the ropes were secured I decided to stay on top for a ride down to the farm I lay there looking up at the sky, until we reached the farmyard when the horse stumbled on the uneven bricks and I fell off. I had my pitchfolk in my hand luckily the prongs were facing away from me, had they been the other way round they would have gone through my neck. I was very very white and shaky when I was picked up and I didn't ride on top again. I also like building the Ricks. Another hated job was beet pulling, on cold frosty days, when the fork wouldn’t go into the ground. We had to try and pull them up with our frozen hands. All the jobs were back aching, we had to do muck spreading, we didn’t mind that, clean-out the cowsheds and pigsties what a pong. When it was raining we were given those jobs. Hedging and ditching, threshing what a job that was, dust and chaff everywhere, we put scarves on our heads to protect our hair but couldn't stop it going down our throats. The threshing machine was a monster it rattled and shook. It was attached to a steam engine by a big rubber band and it was dangerous, we had to be very careful. There were different jobs to be done and so we changed around, there would be two of us on the rick throwing the sheaves up to the one on the machine who cut the bands and fed the sheath into the hole hoping you wouldn't fall in and come out at the other end in bits with the chaff. Another two would be on the ground one to lift the hundred weight sacks to one side the other to remove the chaff. The man who owned it was very dark and swarthy, we called him the ace of spades, he was all right though he fancied himself with the land girls. Some time later we heard that he had had an accident on his machine and his arm had been cut off. It was a dangerous job. One day I was on that rick with my friend Gladys and we noticed that as the ricks was getting lower the men were putting wire netting round it, we asked what was that for they said “oh you'm be all right girls”. Having suffered the juvenile antics of some of the lads who had been throwing nests of baby mice at us we were suspicious so we got out of there pronto. They put the dogs in to catch the rats who had all gone to the bottom, there were 70 out of one and 80 out of the other. They hung them on the hedges and the days of us squealing at the sight of a mouse were over. When I first joined it was March and very cold as it was in April when we were taken to a farm and told to pick potatoes out of pie, we are puzzled till we found that a pie was a long pile of potatoes covered in soil. We were given buckets and told to pick out the good ones and bag them, the bad ones were very smelly.

It was my 21st birthday, as we were leaving the farmer, a gentleman one of course said to me “it’s not a very good way to spend your 21st is it”? I thought he might have given me a bob or two but he didn't. So back to the hostel a bath and dinner and then down to the Angel Inn in the village. There the RAF and the airborne glider pilots from the nearby aerodrome greeted us, we didn't have much money, so they treated us to a few drinks. I must mention about the first week we were there, my friend Vera and I went for a walk to look around. Vera was a quiet girl, she kept close to me, she thought I knew my way round. We saw this little pub and decided to go in for a Shandy. There were only a few old fellows in, “come in girls come in”, don’t have a shandy have a perry it’s made with Pears you’ll like it, we’d never heard of it, but we bought a glass each of it 4 ½ p old money. It was a bitter taste, but the old boys said, it’s good stuff girls have another, we did. When we got outside we staggered feeling drunk, when we got to the hostel we were very drunk and no one would believe we had got that way on the princely sum of 9p old money. We had very bad heads and the room was spinning round as I lay on my bunk. We heard later that it was old stuff from the bottom of the barrel, I bet those old boys were laughing their socks off for many a day.         Our warden at Kingsland was a Scot she was always saying och girls she was 50ish, Miss Irving was her name but we called her Och. She'd never ridden a bike so she asked us to teach her, after a few wobbles and falls she mastered it and was very happy, “och girls thank you”. She was a good sort and we liked her. Food was one of our main interests, living in a hostel, meant that we just had the normal rations, veg pie was often on the menu, we had one egg a week, it was usually Boiled for Sunday breakfast.  Sandwiches to take out in our Jock tins were Spam, Jam and cheese they were always dry by lunchtime and the farmers' wives were expected to give us a mug of tea if we were near the house. We would be sitting outside often in a barn or cowshed when it was cold, the Italian prisoners of war would be inside in a warm kitchen eating a good dinner, it wasn't as if they worked hard, they didn't. We didn't work in the same fields as them but they would be shouting Bella Bella and blowing kisses, they made corn dollies and they would pass them over to us. The German POW's on the other hand were surly but they were good workers.

To get back to food when we went to Leominster we always made a beeline to the fish and chip shop. I thought about Mum and Dad when one of the farm lads gave me a rabbit, I sent it home, it had to be wrapped round the middle with head and tail exposed. I had a letter from them saying don’t send any more that one was full of pellets

Herefordshire is a lovely county, all the seasons had their own beauty, I remember Dinmore Hill going into Hereford in autumn, with all the trees red and gold it was a lovely sight. Best of all in my eye was spring time, when the apple blossom is out, it really is beautiful, although I must be loyal to our own Yorkshire Dales they take some beating.

To get back to my story my friend Gladys was five foot two inches like me, sometimes just the two of us would go out on jobs. One farmer used  to go to the Home Guard and Tuesday nights so on a Wednesday morning Gladys would say, lets get him to tell us his home guard jokes and prolong us starting work so we would laugh heartily and he was flattered.. I don't think he cottoned on to us, he was a nice man, he was Welsh and he would sing as he worked. We liked working for him. Another time we were dropped off at a lonely place, we made our way to a big house with a big studded door, it was very cold and foggy. We were directed to a field a long way off, and were told to prune a field of bilberries. It was very frosty and we were high up in the clouds it was like a winter Wonderland, beautiful. We were told to prune a field of bilberries.  We didn't get any instructions on how to prune, we did our best we never found out if they had any bilberries that year. Then there was the time we were apple picking they were special apples, we had to climb a ladder put our hand under the apple if it came off easily and it was ready. There was an old man who moved the ladder for us, I went to help him, he didn't know I was behind him, so he jammed the ladder into the ground there were spikes on to hold it firm, the spike went into my foot, through my wellies (boot) and thick sock. Talk about blood sweat and tears and soil. I was taken back to the hostel and to the doctors who dressed it no tetanus injections then. I had a lot of pain and a wound that went septic I still have the scar. One of the girls had crocheted a pair of slippers, they were big so she lent them to me I couldn't get my shoe on that foot. The girls called me good deed dotty well dotty I was. The cycles we had were worse for wear, we used to cycle to Leominster it was blackout Some didn't have lamps so the one who had would lead the way, we had many a fall. One night a few of us went to Leominster with some of our Airborne Friends. I came a cropper, the ARP chaps has some hosepipes across the road I went into them and fell off. I cut my knee pretty badly, Jock my glider pilot friend took me into a pub and put a field dressing on my knee. I got some funny looks from people in the       pub, huh those land girls. You will have gathered that I was accident-       prone I still am I can fall over a feather.

When we were working in the fields, there were no toilet facilities, so to answer the call of nature, we would go behind a hedge hoping no one would see us, spending a penny, was OK. after we had undone the belt and the dungaree straps but to have a two penny one was more of a problem, we rarely had any paper so a good strong dock leaf had to do. There was always the perils of nettles, many a  nettled bum was had. Hygiene well who cared, we would be muck spreading and mucking out the cowsheds and still eat our sandwiches. We were sent to some very lonely places, we would find a little cottage in the middle of nowhere, a farm worker would live there often on his own very primitive.

We would help with the hop picking in September, we weren't allowed to pick them, the families from around would do that, we would pull the binds down for them to strip and help with the weighing.

At Kingsland our clerk driver Miss Freeman who was engaged to a RAF pilot he was so good looking. When he was on leave he would come to the hostel for her, we all thought he was lovely, he had a sports car. There we were looking through the windows sighing, she would laugh at us. When they got married, we were all invited to form a guard of honour outside the Church and to go to the reception. Her parents owned the Royal Oak Hotel so a lovely meal was provided, a very nice time was had by all.

We were lucky in a way, that we had Mr Williams, he and his wife had the local post office and he drove the village taxi, he would take us to the aerodrome to dance and bring us home. Sometimes if we had had a hard day he would listen to us grumbling and he said, “you know I went through hell in the last war, but I still look back on them as happy days and you will be in time”. He was right my land army days were happy, we worked hard but when we had done our time was our own we were young and ready to enjoy ourselves.

When we went home on leave, the trains were always crowded, the train would often stop for a long time outside Crewe station when the raids were on, when we changed trains we would go for a cup of tea, there weren’t any cups so it was in a jam jar, try drinking hot tea from a jam-jar, not good!! We were allowed a spoonful of sugar the spoon was on a string, I expect if they got pinched they would have a job replacing it. At Leeds station YMCA there were boards on the floor and weary servicemen were sleeping on them.

One Saturday in summer it was a lovely day, so six of us went cycling in Wales. The weather was hot the countryside beautiful. We took a picnic, then looked for somewhere for a drink, there was a little pub just one room, we trooped in wearing our sun tops and shorts, there were a few men in, and one behind the bar a woman who we guessed was the landlady, she looked like Queen Victoria, dressed in black from head to toe. She eyed us up and down and ordered us out, we said we only want a shandy, but we had to go. A man followed us out he said so sorry girls I’ll bring you one out here. We sat on a bench,  there was a parrot in the doorway who kept screeching pretty Polly. It was a laugh, we had a lovely day out. In summer we used to get a lovely tan and my fair hair got bleached blonde with the Sun. We cut the legs of our dungarees and wore sun tops, we got scratched legs from the hay and corn but we didn't care. The old boys enjoyed seeing as they got an eyeful but their wives weren't pleased.         Gladys hated her name, so she told her boy friends her name was Tina,  one night a Canadian pilot called for her, he asked for Tina, Och looked puzzled and was about to say, there's no Tina here, when Gladys came rushing through, “here I am” and whisked him away. She was good fun and much more a Tina than a Gladys. When we went to the village hops all dolled up, she would look round and say he's mine Mitzi the one wearing the wellies. We got on well, we had the same nature, she came from Keithley. She had a young brother and she said, when anyone came to tea he was told to only take one cake, but he always took two, so she would kick him under the table while smiling sweetly at the guests. I knew what it was like, being the only girl with three brothers, who at that time were all in the forces. Harry in the Merchant Navy an engineer officer, Ernest in the RAF aircrew and Desmond the youngest, in the Royal Engineers.  I have a photo of all of us together taken in the back garden when we were on leave we are in our uniforms, it is one that I treasure. There is a lot more I could write about my time at Kingsland. I was happy there, we didn't get much money so when another girl Marion and I were asked to go on a course to become group leaders Marion said come on, it's 10 shillings a week more, I allowed myself to be persuaded. I think I thought we would be coming back to Kingsland. We were sent to a big house, there were girls from Gloucester and Worcester, we were given talks and taking out to different farms. I remember one dairy farm of Jersey cows they were lovely their milk was like the thick cream, too rich for me. We also went to Bulmers cider factory and saw where all the cider apples ended up. One of our jobs was to pick them well we had an iron hook to shake the trees then pick them up or shovel them into sacks. To get back to the course we had to do exams, and we all passed. We went back to Kingsland after a few weeks we got a letter to say we had to take charge of a new hostel about four miles away Bircher Hall. I didn't want to leave my friends but I had to go that's what the lure of extra money does.

       Bircher Hall was a lovely place, with lots of grounds, the man who owned it lived in the front. We were in the back there was plenty of room, we had proper bedrooms and beds. There was a lodge at the end of the drive but it was empty. Our warden was called Miss Bach, she was a true lady, gentle and refined, a bit taken aback I think by all of us, these ladies had these jobs for their war work. We had a cook and two girls who did the cleaning. The land army girls were from Lancashire, most of them were new but a few came from other hostels. Our job was to show them how to go on, we were like fore women but were called group leaders, Marion could drive so she got the job as clerk driver. I haven't mentioned double summer time, when daylight seemed to go on forever it was to enable the farm workers to work long hours. We had our set hours to work so we didn't do the same as them.

Most of their younger men were in the forces, so the men who were left were older, they worked very hard. One we knew, had had an accident when he was young, with some farm equipment, he had his hand cut off, it didn't stop him from being a good worker, we used to watch him change his hook for different jobs he was a jolly man never complained.

Bircher Hall was situated six miles from Ludlow and four from Leominster we usually went to Leominster, cycling there to go dancing or the pictures and shopping.

About this time the Americans came, they were stationed in the area, the first time we saw them we thought they were all officers, their uniforms were gaberdine and they wore collar and ties very smart so different to our soldiers in their rough khaki uniforms. They were like film stars and had badges for everything, gee honey this one is for sharp shooting and so on. Our lads would say they get a medal for the one who can spit furthest, a bit of jealousy there I think, although they could have been right. The first ones to arrive were the Rangers, now they were supposed to be like our commandos, but they were not as tough. One I met came from Chicago he said “Honey when I get back I'm going to be mayor of Chicago”. When they left we went to the pictures it was a Deana Durbin, she sang, “say a prayer for the boys over there”, there was a lot of sobbing in that cinema, there were a few broken or “bent hearts”. They liked girls and were polite, it was “honey you look like a million dollars in that dress” or “baby when this war is over I'm taking you back to the States”. Oh yes you took it all with a pinch of salt, well you did if you had any sense. They brightened our lives, even Miss Bach liked them, she asked them to tea, they brought tins of food hershy choc bars, and salted peanuts and lovely cakes. They were told they mustn't eat any of the English people's rations, as we hadn't enough food for ourselves, too right. If you went into a cafe With an American GI, you got better service, they expected good service and they got it, cakes would appear, which we never saw.

We would cycle into Leominster and leave our bikes at the local fire station the fellows would look after them for us, while we went to the Dance, we wore our civvies when we went out, the GI's would say don't wear those goddam breeches honey. they liked to jitterbug, we always enjoyed ourselves, when I hear a Glenn Miller record now memories come, flooding back, one night we went to leave our bikes, the fireman said, stay here girls there’s some trouble in town we watched as US army trucks were roaring up and down the road full of MPs military police. There was fighting and shouting the trouble was between the black and white soldiers, the fireman said get a off home girls before it gets any worse. So we did cycling like mad to get away, after that they had black or white nights to stop any more trouble it was a sad state of affairs.

Three of us went out together, Vi, Marion, and three American boy friends they were Jerry, Barney and Jack. One day we went for a picnic by the river, they brought crusty bread, fried chicken and cheese and wine, I kept my wine glass for ages, I don’t think I'd ever tasted wine before. They were great guys, I wonder what became of them. These good times were of course on our time off, we worked very hard, they would say to us, “you work too hard baby, when this war is over your daddy will take you over to the States”. I wonder how many made it back after D Day, and all that followed.

My name is Amelia, and like Gladys I hated it, I was called Mitzi when I was a little, because I was always talking about Mitzi Green the girl in the our Gang films. One GI said Mitzi is that your real name, I said yes I'm Fraulien Mitzi Rockmeyer, he said “you lie more than a mattress”. we had a girl from London, Stepney, she worried about her family in the Blitz, she was called Louise, and the Americans called her Daisy Mae, she had blond hair, she said to me who's this Daisy Mae, it’s a comic strip in their papers about Hill Billies, and she is the blonde girl, Lou said and I don't know whether I like that. One job I went on with lou was to Croft Castle, to do some gardening for a Mrs Parr, her brother owned the castle which was taken over by a school, Mrs Parr lived in the lodge, we cycled up the long drive it was a lovely place there were red squirrels darting about in the trees, she wanted potatoes planting etc, there was a lot of digging to do, after a while Lou said to me, slowdown Mitzi only Fools and horses work, it was the first time I'd heard that expression,

I must mention the V jolly evenings that were arranged for us, entertainment it was called, one was a musical evening they brought some ancient records, one was little Polly Perkins from Paddington Green how we kept our faces straight I'll never know another time some players came and did an excerpt from Helen of Troy, now Helen was played by a very plain lady who was not so young, so when the hero said oh beautiful Helen the face that launched a 1000 ships someone muttered sank them more like, we fell about laughing ignorant lot that we were. Oh, the glares we got, but we couldn't help it. Then we had a very intense lady who came to talk to us about personal hygiene, on the importance of washing our hands, hair and bodies good to tell that she had never worked in the fields. And once we had a magic lantern show we used to wonder which century they thought we were in.

Some weekends Marion, VI and myself would go to Ludlow for a bit of shopping we would have our tea in the De Grays cafe it still there and we would go to a thecinema we would be waiting for the bus on cold frosty nights listening to the Church bells playing tunes.

Well, I could go on forever, I did four years in the land army and came out in December after the war was over 1945, I'd had enough and was ready for civvy street I weighed seven stone, I had a doctor's note, I had among other things a bad back, which I suffer from to this day. They were good years with good friends, I came back to Marks and Spencer and met my future husband, he had done six years service in the Royal Engineers, he used to call me his cabbage commando. I read a book recently, it was called Cinderella's of the soil, we were that all right, we didn't get any gratuity despite the fact that we had a very small wage we were given our certificate thanking us for our loyal and devoted service, signed by Queen Elizabeth later the Queen Mother we had to hand our uniforms in, I don't know what they did with them. However it's in the past given the same circumstances I would do it again even though now I have a pacemaker, arthritis in knees and hips, and aching! Aching! Back! A Edeson June 2003.

So here is a little reminder. ,   Two land army girls stood at the Golden Gates, their weary heads bent low, they asked the keeper at the gates, the way that they should go, what have you done in the world below, to gain admission here, we've worked said they, in the W L A for many a weary year, come right inside St Peter said, as he loudly rang the bell, you have had your share of hell!

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