#and i always make homemade chai as a treat for when we go places together and last time i made it it was so good we were lowkey shaken

[confinesofmy]

me and my grandmother and cousin are going to visit an ancient monument next week and i'm sooo excited. because of the monument, for sure, because that is fucking crazy, but also honestly because i'm going to pack lots and lots of foods and drinks and supplies and i've got the route all planned out and all possible stops along the way. idk why i'm like this but planning and executing a trip is literally about 50% of my enjoyment.

[lizzybeth1986]

Sea of Love

Book: Perfect Match

Pairing: Heathcliff Young x Rosemary Park (Hayden x MC)

Rating: Slight M for hints and innuendos, but mostly PG.

Summary: It's been a year since Heathcliff and Rosemary got together, and Rosemary has something special planned...

Song Inspiration: Sea of Love by Phil Phillips and the Twilights.

A/N: Heathcliff's personality is Pioneer (Mysterious | Sweet | Humourous | Logical). The cake mentioned here is a chai cake with orange-cardamom frosting, inspired by this recipe. The picture in the moodboard is from the same site too.

(Faceclaims:

Heathcliff: Ephraim Sykes

Rosemary: Nikkita Chadha)

Note to self: must send extra thank you note to Steve. With handmade cookies.

In the last one year that they'd been together, Rosemary knew enough about Heathcliff's cooking prowess to leave him in a kitchen without fear of burning the whole house down (and if it was party rice you were craving that day, you'd be in for a treat). She also knew that - until a couple months ago - she couldn't say the same for his baking.

Heathcliff had really pulled out all the stops to make this anniversary dinner perfect. Creamy chicken flavoured with garlic, thyme and sundried tomatoes (was this the recipe Delish had dubbed the "Marry Me" Chicken? Rosemary's hand ghosted over the side pocket of her trousers), and white wine. How he'd managed to keep this a secret until she came home from work was anyone's guess.

That wasn't even the best part. He'd baked. In front of her was an amazing, homemade chai spiced cake, with orange-cardamom flavoured frosting. It looked like it had come straight out of Steve's gorgeous bakery.

Heathcliff knew how much Rosemary loved her homemade chai masala blend (he even made an effort to stop saying chai tea, after she'd glared at him the first few times). He knew cardamom was her go-to spice for sweets (and saffron if she really wanted to splurge), and she looked at orange peel the way Heathcliff looked at...well...any pizza that didn't have pineapples on top of it. This dessert was like every food dream she'd had since childhood, all condensed into one plate. And Heathcliff couldn't have done it without listening. And remembering. And learning how to make it.

And then acting like that was no big deal.

That wasn't even the best best part! That prize had to go to his attire. His clothes were the perfect blend of casual, classy and sexy - as usual - but the icing on top of the cake was his "Kiss the Cook" apron.

What was a girl to do but oblige?

"Come here, you," she said, pulling him to her by the apron, tracing a line down the column of his throat with her lips. He shivered at the contact...for the first 30 seconds. Then he squirmed, laughing.

"Stop that, Rosie," he whispered, all cinnamon spice and hushed laughter. "You know that tickles."

"I know," she whispered, smiling against his skin. He responded in kind, raining openmouthed kisses along her jawline and her collarbone, gently biting at the joint between her neck and shoulder. Rosemary's pulse began to race.

"Keep that up and we won't be leaving this house all week, Heath."

His throaty chuckle reverberated against her skin. "Well, you don't see me complaining."

"Oh, but I will," she said, running a finger over the skin below his neck, beneath his shirt...then let it drop and pulled away.

"But -"

"Enough surprises from you today," there was no mistaking the smirk on her face, as she pulled out an old silk scarf, "It's my turn now."

--

"When's this blindfold coming off?" Heathcliff could hear Rosemary's windchime laughter, feel her soft hands as she guided him through a familiar, grassy path.

"A few paces more, I promise," she said. He could feel softness of mud give way to the crunch of gravel beneath their feet - that was how he knew they were no longer at the park near their home.

It was funny how even though a year had passed, he could still smell the rain exactly the way it was when they first met. Could still see the awning that he pulled her into to keep dry. Could still hear the footsteps of that old lady in the park, gazing fondly at them, telling them she saw in their eyes the same fire she felt for the man she loved.

Heathcliff hoped the old lady was resting in front of a cozy fireplace now, content in that man's arms. That she was still happy, still in love, still believing in the magic of love at first sight. Because she could tell already what they wouldn't realize until much, much later. That this love was a love meant to last the test of time.

They suddenly stopped. Somewhere in the distance, Heathcliff could hear the gurgle of water.

"Alright," Rosie was speaking now, "You can take that off."

The soft gurgles were from the lake. The same lake he'd taken her to on their first date. In the moonlight it was ink-black and glittering, the air smelling of just-bloomed gardenias.

Most of Heathcliff's memories before that first date were a little dim, and he wasn't even certain that little factoid he'd told her about "knowing a guy" who could allow them to use the boats at night was even true. All he remembered was Sloane mentioning it somewhere on his first day, which taking notes.

It appeared Rosemary was intent on jogging his memory of that night, because right in front of him on that lake was a boat, edged with flowers.

She placed her long, slender arms around his waist, resting her cheek on his back. "Blue roses for your shyness. Jasmines because you still make me laugh when I feel low and Gladiolus for the rare moments you show me how you really feel. Gardenias because you're sweeter than sugar syrup in a gulab jamun -"

"Hey!" Heathcliff said, playfully punching Rosie on the arm. His face felt incredibly warm.

"What," Rosemary pouted, all feigned innocence, "You know I love gulab jamun."

Heathcliff said nothing in response, just grinned as he parted her lips softly with his own, savoring the lingering taste of cardamom and orange peel on her tongue. The kiss soon turned heated and passionate, their bodies pressed against each other and their hands everywhere. He was dimly aware they might be caught and almost didn't care.

Rosemary moaned against his mouth, then practically ripped herself from his embrace, fingers still playing with his curls.

"Heath," Rosie said, her voice still coming out in halting, shallow breaths, "no more making out until we leave the boat. There are ways I'd like to get wet but falling into a lake isn't one of them."

Heathcliff let out a shocked burst of laughter at the pun, then allowed her to guide him into the boat. She settled in his arms for a few minutes when they were comfortably seated, before eventually picking up oars on the opposite side. Heathcliff's eyes softened at the memory - she'd done the same back on their first date too, telling him she didn't want him to row alone.

They rowed in companionable silence, before he heard her mumble and hum a familiar tune.

Do you remember

When we met

That's the day

I knew you were my pet

Heathcliff grinned. "Don't let Dipper hear that."

Rosemary scoffed. "You're the literal worst."

"Remember that restaurant we went to?"

"Yeah...Jade, right? That Asian fusion place. Such overattentive staff. Like they were literally swooping down to fulfill your every demand."

He had to admit - and he was a normally patient man who liked giving people the benefit of the doubt - even he had gotten annoyed. "They shut down six months ago. Wonder how much of that had to do with Eros getting a complete overhaul. They got a ton of patronage from that place."

"Pity," Rosemary replied, uncharacteristically focused on her rowing, "the food was pretty good."

"I barely remember the meal," he said, gazing at her fondly, "The company was far, far better."

Rosemary blushed, allowing herself a small smile.

They settled back into comfortable silence again, punctuated by the sound of the water, and Rosemary's soft humming. She looks so unbelievably beautiful in the moonlight, almost exactly the way she did all those months ago, in her beautiful pink lace dress, eyeing him underneath those long lashes. Her mood was different tonight, though - he could see beads of perspiration on her forehead and above her upper lip, and she was chewing at the lower one in that way she did whenever she was nervous.

"You okay?" He asked her. This was her surprise, she knew he loved it...why was she still so tense?

"I'm fine. I'm fine," she said, voice almost coming out in a squeak.

It didn't help that he'd been nervous all day too (he just had a better time hiding it). He'd planned to sit her down and talk to her after the surprise dinner...except she had sprung a surprise of her own instead. He breathed in the heady scent of the flowers before he spoke again.

"Rosemary?"

"Hmm?"

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She laughed, her voice still shaking from nervousness. "Okay. But only once we get out of this boat. I have something to say and I don't want to say it with us toppling over and getting all sodding wet."

Heathcliff raised his eyebrows. "What's this thing that you can't say sitting down?"

Rosemary eyed the pier, gulping. "Well...looks like you won't have to wait too long to find out. But before we get out...before I say this...can you kiss me?"

He shifted closer and buried his hand in her hair, knowing the slow caress of his fingers on her scalp would always calmed her. Their lips melted into each other, tongues tangling and exploring and pressing insistently. He caught her bottom lip gently between his teeth, reveling in the noise she made at the back of her throat. Her eyes were unfocused, and her lips swollen and rosy when they were done...and it only made him want to kiss her again.

Even if this was the last kiss they shared...even if the thing he kept in his pocket came to nothing...even if she never wanted to see him again after this...he knew they would both at least cherish this.

They got off the boat, walked towards the park. Sat at the place where an old lady had sat once.

And then Rosemary did the unthinkable. She knelt down.

"Heathcliff Young," she began, then stopped, clearing her throat. He felt like he knew what was coming, and suddenly every part of him felt numb.

"Heathcliff Young. I've tried this speech fifteen different ways all through last week. All the things I've practiced saying come out sounding silly, or cliche, or just downright...not us. So I think I'll just say it straight.

"I barely remember what my life was like before you came into it. Before you entered my world, before you won me over with your humour and honesty and your patience, and...God, to live with me you truly need to have a whole lot of that last one."

They laughed together, and Heathcliff found his grip on her hand tightening.

"From the moment we met I couldn't see myself with anyone else, and now that we've faced the worst together and lived together and destroyed kitchens together...I don't think I ever can see myself with anyone else. I don't think I ever want to....oh Heathcliff, don't cry."

He let out a watery laugh, sniffing. "Happy tears. They're happy tears."

She giggled back, tears glistening in her own eyes, then took out a box from her pocket. He could feel his fingers tingling from the anticipation. She opened it to reveal a beautiful platinum ring, thick and firm, studded on the side with diamonds.

"Heathcliff Young," she whispered, still on her knees, "will you marry me?"

"Damn," he replied. She frowned. "you got there a lot faster than I was planning to."

Her face fell. "What...what do you mean?"

Oh...oh no. She thinks I'm saying no.

"Well...I've been carrying something with me too. All month, actually."

He took out a box from his own pocket, revealing a gem-studded platinum ring. The sapphire and tiny diamonds winked at her in the moonlight.

"Oh...oh my God." Rosemary took a step back, covering her mouth with both hands and half-laughing, half-crying with delighted disbelief. "Oh my God! You too?"

"Yep. Had a big sappy speech planned and everything," Heathcliff grinned and wiped away his tears. "Looks like you beat me to it, baby."

Rosemary let out a strangled laugh, throwing her arms around his shoulders. "I guess I should take that as a yes."

He snorted. "Yes."

She put his ring on him first, marvelling at the perfect fit (she'd tell him later that it had taken her all week to measure his ring finger without waking him up). He smiled as the ring he got her, found its rightful home ("same, Rosie," he'd reply, "same.")

Rosemary buried her head at the crook of his neck, breathing him in. Heathcliff tightened his arms around her. This wasn't how he was expecting their anniversary to go...but somehow she managed to make it far, far better than what he'd envisioned.

Then again, that was what Rosemary did with everything.

"Can't wait to return home with us wearing this," she said, admiring her ring, then added cheekily, "Wearing only this."

Heathcliff groaned. "Keep that up and it'll wind up happening right here on this park bench instead."

It was amazing that after all this time, after taking one of their biggest decisions as a couple, they were back to teasing the hell out of each other. He laced his fingers through hers, taking her hand and leading them home. He could see her smile every time his thumb brushed the ring on her finger, and his (deceptively mechanical) heart soared.

Note to self, Heathcliff thought as they walked home, must send Nadia an extra thank you note. Both for the ring suggestion AND for recommending chai cake.

--

Tagging:

@haydenyoungappreciationweek @sazanes

[cravethehunger]

🎆🎉Diwali savouries with Indian culture🎉🎆

Diwali or Deepawali is one of the greatest festival celebrated throughout India. It is generally a four to five days long festival of light, which is celebrated by the Hindus, Jains, Sikhs, and even some Buddhists. The festival generally comes during the autumn season. Diwali is the festival to signify the victory of light over the darkness. During this festival, all the homes, offices, temples are brightly illuminated.

In a nutshell, Diwali is the perfect festival of joy and happiness. So, this is the perfect time for e-commerce websites to run their huge sales. Now, happiness comes when you buy new products for your loved ones. When these new products are on sale, you can think of it as doubling your happiness

I’ve only been to India once but I already want to go back, there’s so much to eat – especially Diwali festival food. Here’s what you need to eat for Diwali 2020.

This is a bucket list item for me but as much as it’s the Festival of Lights I’m most interested in the food.

This festival is celebrated in late October and into November so we’ve missed the boat this year but it could be a plan in 2021.

It is known for the amazing range of candles and lamps, illuminating cities during the festival.

Along with the wonderful festivities, there are delicious traditional Diwali festival food.

If you are lucky enough to participate in Diwali you can’t miss these eats.

Diwali Food You Can’t Miss

Food is such an important cultural aspect in India, a country where the food varies wildly from north to south.

I have divided the foods to eat by savour vs sweet Diwali snacks as I’m always looking for the savoury!

Diwali Sweets ➡

Mithai

This is a name for all of the Indian sweets and desserts. While sweets are an important part of the culture all year round there are a number of specialty Diwali mithai for the festival.

Diwali, the ‘festival of lights’, can also be called 'the festival of flavours'! Yes, that’s right! In India, festival means wearing new clothes, visiting various places, decorating the whole house, having fun with loved ones and relishing tons of food items!

Samosa

A crispy and spicy samosa is something which nobody can say no to! It can be the perfect snack for you for this festive occasion. So, if you are having a small Diwali party at your place then, you must serve ‘chai-samosa’ to your guests! Don’t wait anymore, just go and make this delectable recipe by following the easy steps which are mentioned here.

Murukku

Murukku, which is a popular South Indian snack, is made with the goodness of rice flour. It is commonly known as ‘chakli’ in Northern regions of India. You can easily make this recipe at home with simple ingredients and minimum efforts. This snack has a good shelf life and it can be stored for about 3-4 months. So, try it with your loved ones at tea time

Aloo Bhujia

We all must have at least once bought a packet of aloo bhujia for snacking! It is one of the most-favourite snacks in India. So, when you are tired of having sweet things continuously during Diwali, you can try this delectable bhujia recipe which goes very well with tea! You can also treat your guests with it!

Gujiya

No Indian household can celebrate Diwali without gujiyas! It is very common to find all the family members gathered together at one place and preparing this delicacy for the festivals. The perfect combo of sweet and creamy flavours can be found in this sweet dish, which can instantly lift up your mood

Laddoos

Another Diwali food prepared in the Indian subcontinent are laddoos. These are ball shaped sweets made with chickpea flour, wheat semolina and coconut.

Laddoos are cooked with ghee, while some variants will stuff these balls with pistachios or almonds.

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Order now👉good homemade food with the blessings of indian moms. Celebrate your diwali festival with the momskart delicious and mouth watering food.

✨"Chase the flavours"✨

Keep calm and just buy in this Diwali with us

#momslove #momsmagic #safehai #homemade #contactlessdelivery #gharkahai #maakapyar

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[ryoflame]

Welcome to Melburn Roobaix!

Any cyclist worth their salt knows about Paris-Roubaix, the gruelling French race known for its difficulty, danger and cobblestones. Well sometime ago (forever, if you believe them) the wonderful people at FYXO decided Melbourne, my home city, needed it’s own version of the race.

They took the seriousness down a notch, tracked a route through our fair city totalling about 50km, gave everyone scavenger hunt-style question sheets to fill out en route–and this year was the first year I gave it a go.

Loads more photos below!

I had bought a ticket to the Melburn Roobaix at the last minute; it was something I’d been trying to decide on for a while and it was only when a close friend of mine said she’d do it with me that I decided to take the plunge. Recently I’d been lucky enough to get my hands on a beautiful road bike that was absolutely worth more than what I paid for it, and I’d owned this bike for a week before deciding to put it through the gruelling 50km event.

Juicy!

The FYXO team wanted to create an event that would be a challenge, while at the same time remaining fun, tongue-in-cheek and family friendly. There was a less devastating ‘petite Roobaix’ for parents with young kids, but I was amazed to see a lot of kids 10-15 giving it a red hot try on BMX bikes or road bikes of their own. Families were out and about together and it was awesome to see.

A big part of it was the dressing up aspect, too! They encouraged costumes and crazy bikes, so we saw everything from a cardboard Pac Man being chased by an equally cardboard Ghost, to a Mad Hatter and Alice in Wonderland on a tandem bicycle with the dormouse in a basket on the back, to the full team of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

All with bike helmets, of course. Safety first!

Loads of people had poured creativity into their outfits and I felt a little under-dressed! As I’d come in so late I hadn’t planned for anything except my signature citrus-y vibe which I made sure to bring in with me. Melbourne had treated us with the perfect weather for cycling; the sun was out and the air was brisk, just perfect for getting warmed up with a nice bike ride.

There was a crazy amount of people on the starting field, more than I had expected to be there. We were soon picking up our starter kit which had our map, our question sheet and loads of fun little goodies like a sticker pack and pen, other Roobaix bits and bobs.

We headed off sometime just after 9:30am on this brisk and hectic Sunday morning.

One thing I quickly noticed; Melburn Roobaix was a fantastic way to see a city that I had lived in for years, yet somehow had never properly explored. We started off along a beautiful river trail I had always admired from a distance, winding through gorgeous forest area, that I had always thought to myself I’ll ride that bike path one day.

Even once we hit the streets we went down laneways and through areas I had never previously visited–had a reason to visit–and there was so much to see and do! So many gorgeous old buildings and great little cafes!

There were so many riders doing the Roobaix that you were really never on a stretch of road on your own, there was always a group of cyclists within eyesight somewhere, which was very useful if you lost track of where the signage was. It varied between actual signs with arrows pointing in the right direction stuck to things and stencilled arrows on the pavement, but neither were very frequent which led people to pause in their cycling trek to often check their maps, or simply to follow the cyclists who seemed to know where they were going..

If you were set on completing your scavenger hunt questionnaire you had to pay even closer attention though… where was the answer to that darn question?!

At many places there would be clusters of cyclists stopped, whether they were reassessing the route, grabbing a much-needed drink, fixing their bikes or just having a good rest. My cycling buddy and I didn’t want to stop anywhere too early because we figured once you got to sitting down it would be much harder to get yourself moving again! There were lots of cafes and rest places along the set route and we saw stacks of bicycles at each one.

One of the cafes was also a scavenger hunt answer, with two other answers nearby, and it was one of the most popular spots for people to stop for this reason. It was also a solid third of the way into the run, and by this point we decided we’d deserved a rest; by now it was getting to 12pm so we’d been cycling pretty solidly for two hours.

Can you spot me?

I had packed food for myself which I had brought with me, but I couldn’t resist a small reward in a maple and brown sugar glazed donut and a tasty soy chai. While we rested I also took the opportunity to eat my homemade peanut-butter and jam sandwich, which was definitely needed, and immediately felt renewed! Peanut butter gave me the protein I needed, the yummy seeded bread the carbs and the jam was a bit of a sugar kick to get me going again.

Up until this point we’d had a few small laneways of cobblestones which had been uncomfortable. The largest stretches of cobbles came in the second half and boy were they unpleasant!

The cobblestones are a defining characteristic of the Roobaix so we had kinda known what we’d be in for, but that didn’t make them any easier to traverse. I was on my roadbike, a carbon-framed beast that weighed next to nothing with tyres barely wider than the width of my finger; this is a bike suited to smooth flat streets and not the uneven terror of cobbled laneways.

Every time my bike’s tyres skidded on stone my heart stopped for a fraction of a second as I tried to straighten myself up. My cycling buddy’s bike was heavier with thicker tyers and fared much better, but I really had to take it easy on these stretches and concentrate as even the slightest lapse in judgement was going to send me crashing to the ground.

Not gonna lie, pretty terrifying.

It was getting tougher with every additional stretch of cobbles too, they seemed to go on forever sometimes and then even when we ended up on smooth surfaces my butt and arms were so sore (the latter from tension mostly, trying to maintain steering) that I hardly seemed to find any kind of rest. Plus we still had a lot of ground to cover!!

Honestly, my favourite part? Watching where the cyclists congregated. Seeing everyone just getting along doing the same thing, stopping for coffee or a beer, stopping along the side of the road and chatting with strangers and sharing tips, scavenger hunt answers and directions. There was a sense of camaraderie, mutual understanding and overall fun. There were people of all ages, going at all kinds of paces. Even when we didn’t stop at the same place as other people, seeing them as we rode by all having a jolly old time was an uplifting experience that energised me and kept me going.

That, and I had a cycling buddy. I don’t think I would have had nearly as much fun if I hadn’t had someone to share it all with, so a big thanks to my bestie who is always there to come with me through my crazy adventures, you’re the best!

More importantly, WE DID IT!

Here we are at Brunswick Velodrome, the finish line of the Roobaix, which we hit just after 3pm which meant we’d been out and about for approx. five and a half hours. By the time we got there the sun had disappeared, the wind had picked up and we were cold and exhausted but we had DONE IT! We took advantage of the tasty food trucks at the finish line before taking our bikes for one last cycle to the train station to head home (it was too cold for anything else!).

It was overall an amazing experience and one that I’m really glad I got to do, even if it was a super last minute decision. I’ll definitely be doing next year’s, and I’ll definitely work on a costume for it!!

Sadly I had forgotten to activate my Fitbit at the beginning so I have no tracked map in my phone, but my stats do say I have 289min of cycling clocked up all up for that day, cut in half by our lunch stop at around 12pm. I think that’s a bloody good outcome!!

See you next year, Melburn Roobaix!!

[inthesummerswelter]

recipe for disaster: chapter two

Chapter Two: Basil

 He always comes and bothers her when she’s trying to get some work done.

Penn deliberately tip-toes around Ashton when he’s deeply in the throes of studying, placing little juice glasses at his elbow and sliding a plate of homemade garlic bread when he lets out a particularly frustrated fuck this shit goddamn out into the crisp air.

(She learned early on that small gestures like that were the best way to deal, considering that asking him how things were going was greeted with either glares and discontented mumbles or an hour-long lecture on how absurd higher education is that she really didn’t have the time to listen to.)

But, no. He can’t return the favor.

Always poking his fucking head in the small greenhouse on the terrace – an attachment that Penn had to beg the landlord to fund, with the promises of fresh fruits and veg year-round – when she’s trying to keep to her watering schedule.

He’ll sneak up on her and stick his cold nose on her neck, causing her to slosh the watering can’s contents all down her front, or tell her that she’s got something on her face when she’s pulling weeds, smearing dirt on her cheek when she turns to look at him.

And she’ll go to try to wipe it off and only make it worse, because her hands are already covered with soil, and he just stands there and sniggers at her.

Five years old in a grown man’s body.

So, Penn really shouldn’t be surprised when she’s yanked backwards by the suspenders on her gardening overalls, then, but she stumbles anyway, a yelp escaping her lips as her trowel goes flying off into the bed beside her.

“Fuck, Penn, get a hold of yourself!”

He says it with a smile tracing the words, the bastard.

She turns around, whacking him in the chest – which admittedly hurts her hand more than it should have – and relishing in his wince of pain, even though Penn knows it’s been faked.

Ashton’s hair’s a bit more mussed than usual, which is saying something, but it’s also a bit, well, different.

She steps closer to him, straddling the rows of soil, and squints. “Did you get a haircut?”

Reflexively, his hand goes up to shuffle through it, and there’s a touch of uncertainty on his face, too, which Penn finds quite strange.

“Well, not just one hair. Quite a few, I think.”

She turns back around, ignoring that poor excuse for a dad joke, and starts to pick up the beets she’s been unearthing and tosses them into the colander sitting on the gravel path.

“It looks good. What’s up? You never bother me unless it’s something importan - oh, wait.”

She lets the end of the sentence drawl off lazily, stretching the kinks out of her spine.

Hearing his bark of laughter behind her, Penn smiles to herself - a secret little grin that only tilts up the corners of her mouth – but she makes sure not to let him see. It would go straight to his head.

Excitement laces his voice as he says, “It’s autumn now. First day and all, and it’s getting nice and brisk outside, and I thought we could maybe go out and get coffee and such.”

He ends the thought firmly, much more of a statement than a question, because he and Penn both know she’s definitely going to say yes.

It’s autumn. The season of pumpkin-spice and cinnamon and chai and anise and rich, earthy flavors that send Penn’s head spinning in the best possible way.

The way the sunlight filters through the panes of glass forming the walls of the greenhouse hides the truth of the colder winds, Penn soon finds out, as she and Ashton step over the threshold and back out onto the terrace, making their way towards Penn’s flat.

They hunch towards each other instinctively, elbows brushing, and Penn’s regretting the thin long-sleeve she’s got on now. Ashton kicks the back of her foot accidentally, muttering, “oops,” and Penn just nudges her elbow into his ribs.

The colander of beets is dropped unceremoniously on the kitchen counter, to be washed later, and Cardy opens one bleary eye from where she and Clove are lying on the day’s mail.

Penn clucks her tongue at them after letting herself relish in the warmer atmosphere, and Clove’s tongue lolls out.

She decides right then and there to take them along, so she opens a drawer in the kitchen and throws two leads in Ashton’s general direction.

He catches them in the face.

“I’m assuming we’re taking the scamps with us today, then?”

She mumbles out a yes around the scarf she’s got gripped between her teeth, caught up in searching for her mittens and hat, and Ashton huffs, getting down on his knees to complete the task. Found, mittens, hat, and scarf get tossed onto the counter beside the beets as Penn exchanges her gardening clogs for proper boots, lacing them up as fast as she can.

“Okay, ready,” she says, slipping hands through the sleeves of her coat, flipping her hair out from where it’s caught under her collar, and pulling on the necessary woolen accessories.

“Jesus, it’s just a walk, not a march to death-row!”

Ashton’s practically lying on the floor, wrestling with Clove in vain to clip the lead onto his collar. Penn shares a look with Cardy, who’s already prepped and perked up considerably, considering that the word walk generally means a treat of some sort.

Finally, what seems like ages later, a sudden click and an exclamation of victory lets Penn know that Ashton’s caught himself a pup.

Of course, Clove soon catches on to the concept of treats himself and practically drags all of them down the five flights of stairs leading to the outside world.

The Shelties trot along happily in front of Ashton and Penn, pausing every so often to snuffle along an interesting piece of pavement, giving them a good leisurely pace at which to wander along to their favorite bakery.

When they go out together – which isn’t often, considering that Ashton’s classes and her work schedule aren’t really cohesive – he’s an idiot.

And by an idiot, Penn, of course, means that he’s an absolute child. Always grabbing at her hand and pointing at something shiny and colourful that catches his attention, or hunching over to whisper more terrible dad jokes in her ear, eyebright and full of laughter. So much, that they get stopped on the streets and asked where they met and how long they’ve been together.

He usually butts in before Penn can answer, twining their fingers together and inventing a convoluted story on the spot about how he rescued her from a burning building or something like that.

(She doesn’t actually know what he says. She usually tunes out his tales and instead concentrates on how his hand flexes in her own and how his eyebrows smush together after she pinches his side.)

There’s a lot of ridiculous pet names, too, normally. Things like sweetums, honeycakes, and muffin, to name a few. Generally gag-inducing and sugary enough to rot some molars.

And when she wrinkles her nose at his blatant overacting, he just smiles back at his, dimples poking into his cheeks as he prods her nose with a finger. Which she, of course, bites.

(He always fakes a grimace and ruffles her hair, much to the amusement of the inquirer.)

Eventually, when some nice young girls a few years younger than them ask the inevitable question – after they had entered the shop and Ashton had plucked off Penn’s beanie and shoved it crookedly on his own head, mirroring his slanted smile - Penn takes a stand.

Ashton’s momentarily distracts by the display of scones in the bakery’s shelves, so she jumps in immediately, rattling off their usual order and then turning back to the girls.

“I saved him from drowning,” she says, entirely serious, fingers curled around her customary to-go cardboard cup of cocoa.

And, it’s true, too.

Well, sort of.

They gasp and begin to press her for more information, but she holds up a hand to her mouth and tells them that he sometimes gets flashbacks, so she can’t really say much more while he’s around. They’re out of the door long before he straightens up again, and Penn’s sure that he’s left a few more fingerprints on the glass cases.

The current worker in the shop – Lord’s Oven, as the locals know it – already has their order memorized and boxes it up within minutes. She thanks Michael, complimenting him on the stripe of blue he’s recently added into his hair, and picks up the simple white box, carrying it over to a table situated right on the edge of the outdoor patio area that the shop recently opened.

The scent of lemon-poppyseed muffins and pumpkin ginger-snap biscuits wafts up from the opened box, and Penn smiles when she sees that Michael’s thrown in a few slices of the spiced upside-down apple bundt cake for free.

He’s a sweet kid, really, for his slightly daunting exterior.

Ashton’s already reaching one large paw in, not a hint of manners about him as he practically tears through the pretty packaging ribbon still trapped around the edges, and Penn smacks his hand away. She shushes him as he begins to protest, and then he frowns down at the top of her head, grumbles,  and steals a sip of her peppermint hot chocolate.

Prat.

  Ironically enough, it was the first day of autumn, two years prior, that they’d met. Not the autumn that it always says on the calendars, the date that comes and goes with little mention. No, the real first day of autumn that steals the breath from your lungs and hands it up for the brisk wind to waltz around the burning trees.

It was a day that caught Penn by surprise, as many of the season-changes do. She’s out on the terrace, sweeping up and trying to keep the new space clean.

Looking at the little dial on the watch that she’ll eventually lose in a month, she sees that it’s her one-week anniversary of moving into this rooftop flat, and her brush-work gets a bit more chipper.

It’s exhilarating, being out on her own for the first time in what feels like ages, getting a proper job and a proper start at a new life.

Penn’s shuffling about with her broom, clearing away the cobwebs and dead leaves left from the lack of inhabitants, trying to scope things out up here. She hasn’t had time to explore the outdoor space all week, considering the long hours she’s been working at the restaurant. The terrace itself can’t be very large. It spans a small gap in between the neighboring flat and hers, but, as she puts up her thumb to judge the distance, she thinks that there might be room for a small greenhouse.

Maybe only big enough for two benches or raised beds, but that’s definitely enough to grow her own herbs and maybe start a small veg patch, something that Gran would definitely approve of.

“Fresh is best,” she would say, puttering about her own blocks of tilled soil in her back lot, warden of the tiny gravel-bed streets that wound their way around her city of plants. The bean trellises were skyscrapers to Penn’s young eyes, leafy towers that sprung out of the ground like green magic, and the tomato cages exotic, with the circles of metal modern art.

Penn’s knack lies in more of the preparation of the food rather than its cultivation, really, but Gran’s taught her enough that she’s reasonably sure she could handle a rooftop garden of her own.              

If she can wield a boning knife, a trowel shouldn’t be much harder. Right?

There’s another small pile of last season’s leaves resting just where the bend in the building occurs, an architectural addendum that gives her at least a modicum of privacy from the person residing in the flat across the way.

She’s yet to meet them – whoever they may be, she doesn’t have a fucking clue except a pair of black wellies abandoned by their slider door – but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Penn’s more of a loner to be quite frank. She’s a singular in a world of plurals.

Peas and carrots.

Cookies and cream.

Prosciutto and melon.

Thinly sliced duck liver and braised sweet onions.

And then there’s Penn.

And she is quite alright with that. After all, she’s got her own little plural to look after, a gift from Gran, although she doesn’t even know where the idea of getting two small dogs for a nineteen year-old grandchild would ever come from.

But, yes, sadly on some days and happily on others, Penn’s the mother of a pair of Shetland sheepdog pups, a brother and sister named Clove and Cardamom respectively.

(Right now, they’re just settling into their middle teens – in human years – so Penn’s got to keep a sharp eye out for any mischief.)

She can see Clove through the sliding glass doorway, slouching about on their shared rug by the kitchen counter, his impression of a dead log spot-on. But Cardy, who had been trotting around outside with her, exploring her new domain, is nowhere in sight. Quickly gathering up the last of the leaves, Penn puts away the broom just as the first few trickles of rain start to come out of the sky.

“Fuck.”

And that pretty much sums up her feelings on the downpour that drenches anything and everything still stupid enough to be outside in the seconds that follow.

But, even after much calling and wheedling and shaking the treat bag, Penn’s forced to return outside into the deluge to physically locate her wayward dog.

The terrace itself is shaped in a sort of ‘L,’ the only difference from the letter being that the angle of the actual space is quite a bit greater, more of an obtuse shape. Penn can see most of the patio and a good expanse of the neighboring flat from her spot at the kitchen door, but there’s still a blind spot right where the corner occurs.

With a deeply heaved sigh that’s got Clove staring up at her worriedly, Penn tugs on her own pair of wellies – brown with bears speckled all over them - and pulls on a mac, striding out into the torrent.

It’s the kind of rain that intends on getting its victim as drenched as possible, throwing all sorts of tricks about so it can slide under a hood, glue long strands of hair to the back of a neck, freeze the tips of fingers. Penn digs her heels in, gritting her teeth, as the wind gives a particularly violent gust, pushing her into the wall.

Grabbing the corner for support, Penn goes to round it, intending on finding Cardy if it’s the last thing she’ll do. And it might be, considering the storm seems to have ricocheted up the scale from heavy downpour to raging sea squall.

However, something’s blocking the path that her legs had intended to take, and Penn falls forward, eye clenched shut and palms out. She’s fully prepared for the stinging grit coating her hands, imprinting into her skin in angry patterns.

Instead, her hands hit something – remarkably – warm and very much animate, judging by the whoosh of breath that’s let out, catching her left ear.

Her fingers flex in with shock, nails digging into skin, and a hand curls its way around her wrist.

“Ouch.”

It’s a person.

Her neighbor, she can only assume.

Her neighbor, lying half-naked on a plastic lawn chair, apparently deciding that the middle of the rainstorm is the perfect time to go sunbathing.

“Hello. ‘M Ashton. I live just across the way.”

The voice, a mid-baritone, comes from the area above her head, and she nods, carefully extricating herself from where she’s laying on top of him and trying not to stare. Which she fails at tremendously.

(But it’s really not her fault.)

Hazel eyes blink up at her, rainwater coating the lashes and turning them a dark honey colour, just two or three shades darker than his hair, which, though being plastered against his forehead, appears to be wavy and unruly in the best of circumstances.

A dimple pops out of his cheek, drawing her attention to his mouth and a crooked grin.

Fuck.

“And you are…?”

“Penn, I’m Penn Bunting. Have you seen my dog?”

Surprisingly, Ashton nods, reaching one long – tanned, muscular, God – arm underneath the chair and drawing out a damp Cardamom, who looks more like a rat than a dog at this point.

She gives Penn a pitiful, apologetic look, but Penn’s having none of that, thank you, and frowns back down at her, already preparing a scolding in her head.

But the neighbor’s talking again, and she vaguely registers that he’s got an Australian accent.

“Are you cold? You should get your dog back inside. The weather’s absolutely dreadful.”

There’s a horribly long moment where she just stares at him in shock, completely baffled, and then her mouth starts moving before she can stop it because it’s either talking or uncontrollable laughter.

“I mean, I’m at least wearing a mac and boots! You need to get inside, before you catch pneumonia and die or something. What are you even doing out here anyway?”

He shrugs, sitting up from his prone position, skin obviously paler than normal due to the extended exposure to the elements. Already, Penn knows that he’ll be much taller than her once he stands, given how close his head is to her shoulders right now. “Just, uh, hanging out, I guess. I like the rain. It’s rejuvenating. And, anyway, I’ve got a hot bath drawn, so, if you’ll excuse me…”

She’s almost tempted to ask if he’s got little floral-scented soaps and floating tea candles too, but Penn doesn’t know him nearly well enough yet for that sort of teasing, which is why she surprises herself when she blurts out, “I make omelets most mornings. For breakfast. And tea, too. You’re welcome to come over sometime, if you’d like.”

Apparently, she surprises him, too, because he trips over the leg of the chair as he’s turning back to his flat. His hand flies up to ruffle the back of his head, and Ashton begins to nod cautiously, saying, “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good…definitely sometime.”

He waves at her, a manly shake of the wrist, and Penn tries to smile back, inwardly cringing at her lack of social etiquette – who invites a half-naked man to breakfast after falling on top of him? – and the feeling of Cardy wriggling and dripping water down the front of her mac.

(When she gets back to the flat, however, stripping down to her knickers – the rain’s soaked through practically everything, so she’s doing this for warmth – and grabbing a blanket to wrap herself in and a towel to rub Cardy down with, she doesn’t expect to see a porch light on across the other side of the terrace and a dark head peering through a window.)

(And she certainly doesn’t expect Ashton to pop by in three days’ time, bringing a carton of orange juice and a blush in his cheeks, because – didn’t she mention? – Penn’s casually flipping the eggs in her bra and a pair of men’s boxer shorts.)

  She gets knocked out of the daze of memories quite literally. Clove’s tangled himself around one of the legs of her chair and spotted a flock of doves. Her chair shakes violently, tilts onto two legs, and Penn has to pinwheel her arms furiously to stabilize herself.

Ashton chuckles, collecting their napkins and waste, settling the leftovers back into the box neatly, and tying the ribbon back up in a reasonable approximation of a bow.

The joke’s on him though, because he’s got a nice little froth’stache sitting on his upper lip, and she’s definitely going to let him walk around with that for a bit. Maybe she won’t even tell him at all.

They keep walking down the sidewalk, taking a few turns here and there until the dogs begin to recognize the area and tug on the leashes. Here there are tree-cages lining the streets, providing a red-gold overhanging archway of foliage. The door they stop in front of – for all that it and the rest of the facade looks like any other building on the well-maintained street – gives Penn a buzz of excitement that travels under her skin, a mild electric shock.

The bay window, full to bursting with leafy ferns and looking like a veritable hothouse in the middle of the city, gives no other indication as to what might lie in wait inside the flat. Penn shifts the bakery box underneath her left arm, passing over Cardy’s lead to Ashton, who accepts it gamely.

He’s as full of eagerness as the dogs, just as bright-eyed and enthusiastic. The moustache is gone now, evaporated, and that’s probably for the best, considering who they’re visiting.

She reaches forward and grasps the patina-coated knocker, rapping it firmly against the wood of the door twice, before leaning back on her heels and waiting.

A solid three minutes pass before it slowly creaks open to admit them, and Penn feels like she’s four years-old all over again, staring at the entranceway with unwarranted anticipation.

“Well, are you just going to stand there like a pair bloody loons, or are you going to come inside?”

[chantalkrcmar]

India Receding…Further and Further

29 April 2021

As western news outlets catch on more and more to the enormous COVID tragedy unfolding in India, more and more people here in the US are asking how our friends and family there are doing.

And what do I say?

The truth is almost unbearably hard.

My mother-in-law, Sudha Dave (Mummy to Rahul and me; Dadi to Anamika), died unexpectedly a couple days ago. Another COVID casualty. Because of COVID’s burden on India’s already patchy and weak healthcare system, Mummy did not get the medical care she needed. So, though she will not be counted in the official COVID statistics, COVID was a contributing factor. (A note about the Indian government’s official COVID stats: Do not trust them. Currently, they put the COVID fatalities at 200,000 — not even counting those who died victims of the failing healthcare system. Experts claim the fatalities directly from COVID are actually already one million.)

The advice most everyone in India is getting right now from medical professionals and the government is: do not go to the hospital unless you are at death’s door. The unspoken message is also: And even if you are at death’s door, do not come expecting to get the care you need. Maybe you’ll be lucky, and maybe you won’t. Well, our family doctor gave my in-laws that advice when Mummy started having breathing trouble and low oxygen levels. My mother-in-law and father-in-law knew she was not well, but they thought she must be stable. Her doctor probably knew, but my in-laws did not know she was actually on death’s door. So once they brought her to the hospital, she went into cardiac arrest and that was it.

So what do I say to well-intentioned folks who ask me about India now? To us, it’s not an abstract headline in the New York Times or a clip on NPR. It’s flesh and blood and lots and lots of tears.

Honestly, it’s been horribly hard to hear, “How are your friends and family in India?” when I can’t respond with a simple, “They’re safe and healthy. Thanks for asking.”

The real answer is more like “Absolutely horrible. My mother-in-law just died, ripping a huge hole in the fabric of our family. One that will take a good long time to mend. And one that right now is just goddamn painful. And almost everyone else we know is getting COVID, to boot. Thanks for asking.”

I’m not sure that’s what well-intentioned acquaintances want to hear. 

My mother-in-law is gone, and with her, our experience of India is irrevocably and irreversibly changed forever. As I sit in the fog of grief, one of the many thoughts that keeps recurring is how much Mummy made India what it is to me. The first time I ever came to India, she met Rahul and me at the Mumbai International Airport with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers in hand. As she passed them to me, she said, “Welcome home.” Within minutes of getting to the apartment, we were sitting with hot cups of Ambubhai’s world famous chai in our hands. And so it began…At the time, I did not know how much India would become my second home. I came to find over time that Mummy was right. I was coming home.

Our family home in Mumbai will be so…quiet…next time we’re there. My mother-in-law was a presence to be reckoned with. She brought a lot of laughter and love and zaniness and, yes, sometimes exasperation, into our home. She and Anamika would paint together, and watch Paw Patrol in Hindi, and have epic battles of the will over how much aanda or dhal or bhindi or chapati Anamika would eat. Ultimately, though, my mother-in-law adored Anamika so much that…well, who do you think won their battles of the will? We all managed to live together through the world’s harshest lockdown without even fighting that much. Even while going through it, I knew how remarkable that was. Sure, there were annoyances, and sure there were some arguments, but we five adults and one four year old managed pretty well.

My mother-in-law was imperious, curious, quite adventurous — especially for a woman who was raised in a time in India when girls and women were expected to be nothing but docile and demur. Many, sadly, are still expected to be that way. She loved Anamika’s feistiness and self-assurance, probably partly because she saw parts of herself, and her aspirations for herself, in her little granddaughter.

Mummy’s death is having wide ripple effects. Anamika and I are grief stricken; Rahul is, of course, even more so. Ambu Uncle is a mess, too. On WhatsApp video calls, he looks so drained. Riaz Uncle, my in-laws’ driver who hasn’t really driven them anywhere all year but is still being paid (if only other Indians would be as fair and humane as my father-in-law) looked stricken when we spoke to him on WhatsApp too. My father-in-law called Riaz Uncle to come drive them to the hospital so Mummy could get a CT Scan and then drive them home. Nobody knew that it would be a one-way trip.

Tutuji and Hemanta are also so affected. When we called to tell them Mummy had died, Tutuji and Rahul both broke down and sobbed together. Tutu and Hemanta have stayed in our home in Mumbai with all of us many times over the years. Hemanta calls my in-laws Dada and Dadi, just like Anamika does. Over the past couple days, Hemanta has been calling us regularly. Our 11 year old foster son is acting so mature. He inquires, “Has Haathi Papa [Rahul] eaten lately? Is he sleeping enough?” Hemanta also called us in the middle of the night yesterday to report that he had called Ambu Uncle to check in on him and Dada. He is concerned about them too. “Dada has eaten cherries,” he solemnly told us. Hemanta’s care for them is so touching. Anamika has also been so attentive to Rahul. She’s been hugging him and holding his hand and stroking his head when he cries. She keeps saying, “Dadi was my Dadi.” And then she reluctantly follows with, “And she was yours, too, Papa.”

Now we all must mourn and celebrate Mummy together over WhatsApp. Rahul’s cousin Alka, mercifully, lives in Mumbai and is fully vaccinated. So she’s been helping my father-in-law navigate the bureaucratic hoops, and the emotional fallout, that follow death. Alka helped Rahul “attend” Mummy’s cremation through WhatsApp video. Because the COVID situation in India is such a nightmare, we cannot go there now. Many international flights to and from India are canceled anyway, and soon all will be. Rahul and I have not gotten our second dose of the vaccine yet either. My poor father-in-law can’t even have visitors right now. So he and Ambu field phone calls from friends and relatives, and then sit in their quiet home. A home that is stuffed with my mother-in-law’s being — her colorful sarees spilling out of one whole closet, her tiny bottles of shampoo, perfume, lotion everywhere. She had a funny habit of collecting small hotel toiletries from everywhere they traveled.

Anamika and Mummy painted together a lot during lockdown, but after we left India, my mother-in-law took her artwork to a new level. Using Anamika’s bedroom as her studio, she was constantly trying new techniques. She was waiting for our return so she could resume doing art with her favorite creative companion, Anamika. The fact that that day never did come is such a loss for her and for Anamika. Theirs was a bond that brought me such joy. My only surviving grandmother when I was a child was downright mean. So to see how much love my mother-in-law showered on Anamika was heartwarming. So that’s what a grandmother/granddaughter relationship is supposed to look like!

I never thought when we left India in September that we’d never see Mummy again. We knew that my in-laws were in a high risk category for COVID, but we also knew they were willing to be shut-ins until the pandemic was past and that Ambu Uncle would take excellent care of them. I think we overlooked the fact that the Indian healthcare system would totally collapse, leaving them at risk if anything else went wrong.

This post is obviously about my mother-in-law, but the grief over her death is being compounded by our stress and worries about others in India, too. I am not sure I can even appropriately convey how dire the situation in India is now. As I was writing this post, I got a message from Thresiamma, a friend who runs an NGO in Kerala, the south of India.  She is 74 and she has COVID. She has taken a turn for the worse and was hospitalized. I hope she makes it out. But I am not too terribly hopeful. And Rahul’s good friend Ahmet who lives in Mumbai has told him that about 10% of his co-workers have died of COVID. His colleagues were not elderly — nor were they poor and unable to afford medical care. It’s just not available much of the time — no matter who you pay off. The Indian crony system has met its match during this pandemic.

Here’s a little taste of just how bad it is in India...

https://thewire.in/government/india-covid-19-government-crime-against-humanity

Right before the pandemic hit India, we took a little family vacation to one of our favorite travel destinations: Kodaikanal, a small town in the Western Ghat mountains in Tamil Nadu. Thank the gods we got there one last time. Who knew what was just around the corner?!

I snapped this photo of Anamika hamming it up with her Dadi and Dada in front of one of our favorite spots in Kodai: The Pastry Corner, a little hole-in-the-wall bakery with the most amazing South Indian filter coffee, delectable homemade ice cream and gooey pastries. The Pastry Corner is tiny; it’s grimy; the ice cream server’s nine fingers were always dirty. But we all loved it and made a daily pilgrimage down the road to share outdoor benches jam-packed with locals and sticky from all the treats customers had been dropping all day. Best. Place. Ever. (And, no, those coffee cups were not all ours. Just most of them were.)

[somethingsohappily]

1-50! Please 😘🍁

1. Go apple picking V.S. Going on a hay rideI have never been on a hay ride so probably that, just because I have goneapple picking! 

2. Scary V.S. SweetSo I thought this was about candy and I was like ‘how can candy be scary?”but maybe this means costumes? Scary is better! 

3 Sweaters V.S. BootsUmmmmmm oh geez this is hard cause I love both. Sweaters probably just becausethey’re so cozy. I love boots though, which reminds me mine had holes in themand i need to get new ones. 

4. Socks V.S. MittensSocks! 

5. Bonfires V.S. FootballBonfires 100%, I don’t understand football… 

6. Trick or Treating V.S. Watch Scary moviesPersonally I like watching scary movies best because im a little too old fortrick or treating. BUT. I love trick or treaters and giving out candy andseeing all the kiddos in costumes, cause that’s the best!! 

7. Apple Pie V.S. Pumpkin PieBoth are good, basically i really like pie of any kind. 

8. Halloween V.S. ThanksgivingHalloween!!!!!! I don’t really understand Thanksgiving and I know it’s a day to be thankful but I feel like you should be in general, and probably not on a day that we celebrate taking over someone elses land. And also i don’t eat Turkey so like the food appeal isn’t really there. ANYWAYS. 

9. Bake Pie V.S. Bake CookiesBake cookies because I know how to do that. I think I’ve only made pie once(we’re lame and get pie at costco so homemade isn’t really a familything) 

10. Rain V.S. FogRain, but if it’s rainy AND foggy out it’s even better!

11. Black Cats V.S. OwlsCats are the most important creatures and i love them. 

12. Ghosts V.S. WizardsUghhhhhhhhhh ummmmm ghosts because ghosts as a concept fascinate me. But HarryPotter exists so i also love wizards a lot. 

13. Harry Potter V.S. HalloweentownHarry Potter always and forever. BUT Halloweentown is definitely a movie Iwatch during the fall! 

14. Go Hiking V.S. Sleep inProbably go hiking, I can’t really sleep in anyways and I’d rather be out withall the leaves changing color. 

15. Cinnamon V.S. NutmegCinnamon! 

16. Reading V.S. WritingReading because my writing skills are not great/im not that creative. 

17. Hot Chocolate V.S. TeaHot Chocolate! I’m not a tea person! 

18. Live in a Cabin In a Forest V.S. Have it be fall 24/7Ummmmmmmmmmmm okay so I love fall the most but I also think if it was fall 24/7i might appreciate it less. So I guess a cabin in the forest with regularseason so that I can continue to appreciate fall when it comes. 

19. Candy Apples V.S. Caramel ApplesI haven’t had either of these?? I’ve had those lollipops that are like greenapple with caramel, but I think that’s the closest I’ve gotten to either ofthose. Maybe this year that’s the goal. 

20. Blankets V.S. PillowsBlankets! Also I wish I had more furniture because a blanket fort and scarymovies would be amazing and i want to do that. 

21. Roasted marshmallows V.S. Roasted ChestnutsMarshmallows! I think I may be allergic to chestnuts? I havent had one and Ijust feel like I should be wary of eating them, regardless of if I’ve mostlyoutgrown that food allergy. 

22. Coffee V.S. Apple CiderCoffee! 

23. Red Leaves V.S. Orange LeavesBoth!! Together!! 

24. Braids V.S. BowsUmmmmm neither? I dont have an opinion on this! 

25. Scented Candles V.S. The Smell of Fresh Baked GoodsBaked goods, but I do love a fall candle! Which reminds me, everyone needs to keep me out of Bath and Bodyworks because I have too many candles and don't need more 

26. Carve Pumpkins V.S. Make Pumpkin PieCarve pumkins!! I need to talk to karen and see if she wants to do that thismonth! 

27. Pumpkin Spice Lattes V.S. Chai Tea LattesPumpkin spice!! But not from Starbucks cause their’s aren’t that great! 

28. Coats V.S. Oversized SweatersOversized sweaters cause I like when the sleeves are long and I can pull themover my hands or be a weirdo and wave them around. 

29. Beanies V.S. BeretsBeanies, tell Harry and Niall to stop wearing berets. 

30. Candy Corn V.S. Peanut Butter CupsPeanut Butter Cups, candy corn is just okay… 

31. S'mores V.S. Apple CrispApple crisp, especially my mom’s! Its the best and I should see if she would want to make some or at least give me the recipe so I can pretend i know what I’m doing.  

32. Jump In a Pile of Leaves V.S. Swing on a Tire SwingTire swing because im always worried about bugs in piles of leaves, and usuallyin WA the leaves are wet and that’s less satisfying to jump into! 

33. Corn Maze V.S. Haunted HouseCorn maze because i am a baby and get scared in haunted houses. (even though iused to go ghost hunting sooooooo logic?) 

34. Bob For Apples V.S. Visit a Pumpkin PatchPumpkin Patch, I have never wanted to put my face into a bucket of water just to try and catch fruit in my mouth, andprobably never will. 

35. Whipped Cream on Hot Chocolate V.S. Marshmallows on HotChocolateMarshmallows and hot chocolate, though whipped cream is really good. Can therebe both? also sprinkles. Is that too much for hot chocolate? That’s basically a cup of sugar. 

36. The smell of pumpkin guts V.S. rotting leaves?Pumpkin guts! 

37. Sweet V.S. salty pumpkin seeds?I actually haven’t had pumpkin seeds, I think my mom was worried I’d beallergic and then I just never tried to eat them.

38. Store bought V.S. pumpkin patch pumpkins?Pumpkin patch but store bought is just fine!

39. Wool V.S. knit sweaters?Knit ones, especially if they’re Weasley sweaters.

40. Halloween party V.S. exploring haunted places?Exploring haunted places, though a Halloween party maybe if I felt like we’dget in trouble for trespassing somewhere. Also Halloween costumes arefun. 

41. Candy corn V.S. mellowcreme pumpkins?What is a mellowcreme pumpkin?? OH. I just googled. Um I guess candy corn, Istill am not a huge fan of either. 

42. Apple cider donuts V.S. pumpkin donuts?Apple cider donuts sound better. 

43. The Nightmare Before Christmas V.S. Hocus pocus ?Hocus Pocus, I haven’t seen that in forever which is a shame! 

44. Scary costume V.S. something silly?Scary costume, I like dressing up as dead things. 

45. Still, silent nights V.S. rainy, windblown ones?Rainy windblown ones where I’m safe in my apartment! 

46. Monster movies V.S. their classic novels?Ummmmmm monster movies because i can’t focus long enough to read. 

47. Witches V.S. ghosts?Ghosts! But Witches are also cool and i respect what they’re doing!

48. Raking leaves V.S.climbing trees?Climbing trees, even if that is rarely successful and I’m a little afraid of falling out of the tree. But raking leaves is like a chore… sooooooo no. 

49. Ouija boards V.S. ghost stories around a campfire?Ghost stories around a campfire! I’m with my dad on this one, I’m not bringing Ouija boards anywhere near where I live or go because I just don’t need to risk that thank you. 

50. Frankenweenie V.S. The Corpse Bride?The Corpse Bride! Though I’ve never seen Frankenweenie! Thanks babe :) 

[olicitysmoaky]

“Look at Me” -- Rated G

Part of the Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon by @thebookjumper whom I recently love and adore. This is my first submission. 

Week 2 Prompt: Eye Contact

Fluuuuuuff Alert!  

Summary: Shy version of Felicity is No-Island Oliver's tutor over the summer in this college AU fic set in Boston. 

You may also read this at AO3

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Felicity Smoak may have been a lot of things: a genius, a straight-A student, a surprisingly well-balanced daughter from a broken home and of an overly flirtatious cocktail waitress who wore dresses that some thought might be better suited for a different line of work. Felicity was a good girl, but for all of that goodness came something else, too. It could be spelled out in one simple word really: awkward.

It was the end of junior year at MIT, and Felicity was the ripe old age of eighteen. She‘d mastered the art of pretending she was comfortable in situations she wasn’t, but she had a feeling there was more to it than just having to pretend. She knew that she could learn to feel more at ease with people. And to Felicity what it all boiled down to was eye contact. She’d gotten good at making herself make eye contact in a general sense, but boy did she hate doing it when it came to three types of people: extremely self-assured popular kids, rich people, and really hot guys. Unfortunately for her, Oliver Queen was all three. And this year, Felicity had taken a summer job tutoring the 23-year-old Harvard super senior so she could stay in Boston and take extra classes to graduate early.

It was their fifth lesson, and instead of their usual spot in the library, Oliver suggested they meet at his favorite cafe. She expected a run-of-the-mill coffee shop but was surprised to walk into a space with amazing art work hanging on every wall dotted with warm lights filling the room from the ceiling. Hair pulled back in her typical long blonde ponytail, Felicity found far too gorgeous for his own good Oliver sipping from a big green mug at one of the back tables.

When he spotted her, he waved her over. Felicity, who was wearing the new yellow sundress she’d convinced herself she was buying because she needed new summer clothes, started toward him. She smoothed down the flared skirt. The new purchase had nothing to do with the fact that she’d only decided to go shopping after Oliver had asked her to meet her elsewhere for their tutoring session yesterday.

He wore a navy blue Henley and jeans. She would say it made him look particularly sexy, but pretty much anything he wore did that, so... “I hope you don’t mind meeting here,” Oliver said, standing up and holding her chair out her. The gesture made her breath catch. She realized that no one in her life had ever held out a chair for her before. It took her by surprise and made her blush. “I’m also sorry I ordered coffee before you got here. Long day. Would you like something? It’s on me, of course.” He sat down, hands folded on the table, his closed international economics text book on the surface beside him as if only a fixture.

Felicity blinked, blushing as her blue eyes slid up to his for the first time since she’d arrived. She tried not to overly blink and look away. She hated when she did that, but it was so damn hard not to when he was staring at her with that face of his. The damn smirk, the perfect stubbly jaw. Why was the world so damn cruel?

“Felicity?”

“Oh, um, no…it’s okay. You don’t have to. I mean I know it’s like nothing to you money-wise to pay for something like a simple meal, but…I really need to consider what I am about to say it before I say it sometimes. I didn’t mean to sound like I’d be ungrateful, but…”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” he said, smiling softly. He was trying to kill her now. There was no way she could keep looking him in the eye and not melt into the chair as she slowly died of utter humiliation.

“I’ll have a chai tea and a tuna sandwich – wait, I shouldn't get tuna. It’s…” She stopped herself from saying it would be too smelly. But it was her favorite. “I’ll have a bagel and homemade cream cheese instead.”

“You’re in for a treat,” said Oliver. “They make the bagels themselves here, too.”

Felicity looked up at him. “Really? I love when places do homemade things. It’s always so…homey.” She smiled. To her surprise, she held his eyes for more than half a second…and she’d survived. In fact, it sort of felt good. Oliver got up, placed their orders, paid, then set a number on their table: 6.

Felicity smiled. She felt good. Clear. She was hanging out with her client turned possible friend. All was well. “So," she started, "Do you want to eat first then study or…” Then Oliver had to ruin the whole damn she was nearly relaxed thing by suddenly reaching across the table and touching the sides of her glasses with his index fingers. He caressed the edges with them!  Felicity’s eyes went wide, but she didn’t moved. Forget looking away, now her eyes seemed glued to his. What the hell was he doing? Trying to kill her. That was the answer.

“Can you see up close without them?” he wondered quietly.

“Yes, it’s just far away that I can’t… I know they make me look like a geek.”

“I was thinking more like sexy but adorable librarian-in-training.”

“In training?” She cleared her throat; he still had not dropped his hands.

“Yeah, you’re only what? 19?” he asked, his soft voice doing something to her insides she really needed to get a hold of. Control, Felicity. You're a big girl.

“Will be in August.”

“May I…?” He gave her glasses a tug but did not move them further until she nodded her consent. Felicity just went ahead and gave herself a break from his intensity and snapped her eyes shut as he pulled her glasses off. Fraaaaaaack! It did not work because her other senses picked up. God, he smelled almost better than he looked. And his fingers brushed the base of her eyelids when he gripped the hinges to keep her glasses from falling. That sent sizzles from the little patches of skin he'd touched and washed them over the rest of her body. She would not sigh. She would not at all.

“Frack, huh?”

Felicity’s face burned. “Oh no. Really? I said that? Of course, I did.” She looked down at the table, then cleared her throat. “We should study. I mean, I should wear my glasses, but I don’t have to.”

Before the conversation could get any worse, their food arrived. Oliver ordered himself a health muffin because of course he would. But never mind about that. Oh God was this good. Felicity bit into the warm cream-cheese adorned bagel and moaned. She looked up as she heard Oliver’s sharp intake of breath. If she didn’t know better she’d say she’d caught him biting his lower lip for a second. “So, um, I guess we can study after we eat.”

Oliver licked his lips, eyes locked on her mouth. “You look good in cream cheese.”

Awkward as always. She sighed and licked her lips several times, trying to clear away any excess globbiness. “Gone?” He just kept staring at her mouth. Her belly warmed, and her chest tingled.  “Oliver.”

Her voice seemed to snap him out of his haze. “Yeah?”

She looked at him with a short giggle. “I thought I lost you.”

His eyes locked on hers and a full-grin spread across his lips. “There you are.”

“What?”

“I’ve just been wanting to see those eyes since the first night we met.”

Felicity frowned and tried really hard to not look away. “You’ve seen my eyes.”

“I’ve seen them, but this is… you know, contact.”

Felicity pressed her lips together and nodded.

“So, now that we’ve made contact,” he said, and for the first time Felicity noticed that Oliver seemed a bit nervous. “Would you…like to go out to dinner with me?”

Felicity looked around the café and gestured around. “This is kind of like dinner.”

“It’s a study date.”

“But it’s a date?”

“Well, no,” Oliver said, causing Felicity’s heart to drop. What had she been thinking? There was no way Oliver was interested in her. But he’d just asked her out to dinner…then denied being on a date with her.

“I just…It’s our tutoring time, and you’re still on the clock.”

Felicity reached over and pulled his text book to her. “Well, I was trying to get you to start studying. You’re the one with the bagels and the glasses and the lip-staring.” Oh, God. She really wanted to take that last one back, but she wouldn’t. He was clearly flirting. She held his gaze firm, strong.

Oliver sighed and dipped his head. Now he was avoiding eye contact. What was with them? “Oliver, we’re being really stupid.”

He laughed out loud. “You could never be stupid," he stated firmly, then seemed to sober as he mulled over what he wanted to say next. "It’s why…I want to take you out. I want to get to know you outside of just studying, and I was scared…I mean not scared, but you know. Do you want to go with me?”

“Wow. I’m the one who’s supposed to talk in sentence fragments.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“No. I want to. I do.”

“Great,” Oliver said, standing up to go after placing a tip on the table. “By the way, I got an A on my econ quiz thanks to you. Classes are canceled for the next week. I just wanted to see you today, look you in the eye and ask you in person.”

“Oh, Oliver. That’s…so sweet.”

Oliver scratched the back of his neck bashfully. God, she should have been looking at him more directly before. She might have seen the adorable nervous puppy in the muscle-bound form of Oliver Queen much earlier. She loved it. “Can I pick you up at your place tonight at eight?”

“Yes.”

Oliver grinned from ear to ear. Then before she knew what was happening, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. He stopped, still very close to study her eyes. She’d never noticed the different layers of blue in his. He reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking once, then twice. “See you tonight, Felicity.”  

Then he was gone. That was the afternoon Oliver Queen cured Felicity Smoak of her eye contact woes. That night, under the stars on a boat ride, he kissed her, and she couldn’t stop staring at him. She hoped he wouldn’t break her heart, but she trusted him – there was just something in his eyes. 

@miriam1779 @hope-for-olicity

[forgitful]

9.12.2017 - An Update

It’s been awhile, so I figured I’d update you guys on my life. I’m sure no one would really care, but it makes me feel better. I’ve completely changed my blog and deleted all of my posts because I want to start this one fresh with different content, and also use this blog as a spot that I can be 100% open on. I still use my other blog - @idiut - but that blog has been around for years, and everyone I know knows about it, and I kinda just want to branch away from any possible harm. Nothing physical... I don’t believe I’m that much hated for any physical confrontation. Anyway, let’s go back to July 2016.

My mother kicked me out of the house, so I had to quickly pack my bags and grab Dewey, and head back to Wilmington. Thank goodness my cousin is a night owl, because I was told to pack my things and leave at midnight. The funny thing is, I should have been worried about being homeless, and jobless, while trying to take care of my cat, yada yada - but the only thing that was on my mind was “Fuck, I see 5SOS on Monday, how the fuck am I gonna get there.” No worries, I got there and had the time of my life. I quickly found a job, like, literally the day after I got back to my hometown. It was a fast food job, but it was better than nothing, and I got paid weekly so I was never actually broke. I also shaved my head to a buzz cut. I was always too scared to do that, but I had gone through some shit and I needed a change. I loved the feeling of my head being shaved. It was fun to play with, and costed less to take care of. I’m currently trying to grow in back out, but I’d definitely do it again.

Fast forward to October. Things were getting better. I ended up living with my aunt - I was originally going to move in with my dad, but he had a really bad flee problem at the time and since Dewey is allergic to flees (and my dad allergic to Dewey), I figured my aunt’s was the best place to go. I remember that I was supposed to go see Neck Deep in concert... they were actually playing in my town - no one plays here!! I was totally excited until Hurricane Matthew came along and Neck Deep’s management decided to cancel. The storm wasn’t really that bad, just a bunch of power outages and certain spots we flooded. The power at my job though did go out, and we didn’t have to come in until 6pm, so that was great. I was also excited for Halloween. It’s my favorite holiday. I went with Penny. She was this very cute and lewd devil, and I was a more witchy/devil looking thing. My horns were cute, so that’s all I really cared about. We did some trick-or-treating because we’re still children at heart. Afterwards, we went to a house party downtown. Penny drank a whole bottle of wine within the 15 minute drive to the party, so she was a mess when we got there. I didn’t know anyone, but there was a cat, so that was pretty cool. I also found a lizard outside. It made my night for whatever reason. We didn’t stay long. I get really anxious sometimes, and that time was one of the sometimes. So I went home and crashed. Oh! And I also adopted a kitten who is named Truman. It was a pretty great night to end the month.

November was absolutely amazing as well. I went to see Brand New with Penny. This was my second time seeing them as I saw them before a few months before. It was extra lovely. Modern Baseball opened, followed by The Front Bottoms, and then finally Brand New. I got caught in the pit during TFB and got punched in the face, so I moved to the back. Penny was having a panic attack, so I stayed back with her for the rest of the show. There was a couple guys fighting in the crowd, and I remember Brian Sella calling them out during the show. It was neat. When Brand New came on, it was more beautiful than last time. My highlight of the night though was when they played Soco Amaretto Lime. I broke down in tears. The ride home was six hours, and in those six hours, Penny and I joked around and ate tacos. We debated resting at a truck stop, but we made it home. A week later I saw The 1975 with Molly again. They played in Boone, NC which I had never traveled to. The town was GORGEOUS. I cannot think of the proper way to describe it. We got to the hotel about thirty minutes before the show started. We got there, and of course the boys killed once more. The next day before heading home, we roamed the town for a bit. It was freezing cold, but it was okay because we stopped for some chai tea. We visited cute little bookstores and art shops. I bought a cute little dragonfly necklace from one of the local homemade jewelry stores. I have no clue where it’s at today. It began to snow right before we l left. It was beautiful. I hope to go back soon.

Christmas was great last year. I got many nice things and it was probably the best Christmas I’ve had since I was a child. I also finally started talking to a guy named Logan. He was really cool so I didn’t curve him like I would normally do.

I started hanging out with Logan a lot. It was an everyday thing actually and we’d have sleepovers often. He asked me out on Valentine’s Day, and of course I said yes. Our seven months is coming up. He makes me really happy.

March was a terrible month. My grandma passed away... officially leaving me with no more grandparents. It sucked. They found out she had cancer a few months before, as well as a tumor on her brain. It sucked, and my dad grew extremely depressed. They buried her next to Papa.

It wasn’t even two whole months later, on May 6, 2017, that I lost my dad. He had went to the ER a week before and it came to show that his body was shutting down. The last day his was conscious was a Tuesday, and he asked for forgiveness for everything he had done wrong in the past, for which we assured him we never held that against him. What was gutting was that he said he wasn’t ready to die. I hate it. I miss him so much. I haven’t gotten my head straight since. I sometimes feel like I’m going crazy.

Later in May, Logan and I moved into our first little townhouse in Myrtle Beach. And on June 8th, we found out that we were pregnant. We were scared but grew really excited. I never thought that I would be a mother, but I was so stoked to bring my own little one into the world. But on July 18th, I went to the ER after I noticed some bleeding, and sure enough, I was in fetal demise. I wanted to puke. I cried for days after that. I would get upset at the sight of another pregnant woman. I had suffered so much loss that I was sure I was ready to give up. I’m still not over it.

Since then, we moved back to Wilmington once again. We’re working on getting our GEDs and I’m trying to get my health back under control. We also adopted a kitten! Dewey and Truman love him. I hope things will get better, I really do. But everything seems so dark to me. I’m at my lowest, but I’m hoping that once we get our mess together, I’ll feel better.

So there you have it. That’s where I’ve been, and this is why I chose to start fresh. I’m still here to talk about anything and everything, so don’t hesitate to talk to me. I’ll update more often.