#and the window will be full of flowers and basil that I’ve taken from a viet restaurant when ordering pho

[me-a-mess-morelikelythanyouthink]

having one of those nights where i’m cleaning up as brownies are baking in the oven and it’s driving in the fact that one day i WILL have my own place that i can fill with the music that i love and it can always smell like cookies and brownies and i’ll be able to make whatever i want and i’ll paint my kitchen walls to remind myself that i’ve surrounded myself in love

[wienerbarnes]

On My Mind

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 1,490

Warnings: fluffy first date vibes, mentions about pregnancy and infertility, overall not angsty tho

A/N: sorry for the long wait yall! ive been super slumped with class and other organizations im apart of and work and yea :) thank yall for understanding<3

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

A metal finger pokes your side as you re rack the weights you’ve used during your workout in the gym. You look at Bucky through the window in front of you as he’s seemingly finished his own workout as well. The two of you don’t work out together, his routine that’s fit, for, well, a super soldier, is much too much for you, but you still arrive together and leave together.

“I have a surprise for you.” Bucky says, as he begins to walk backwards, encouraging you to walk with him.

“What’s that?” You ask as you approach the doors of the gym, exiting out into the hallway.

“I’m taking you out tonight.”

You giggle. Because the thought sounds hilarious. Until you realize he’s not laughing with you. “What are you talking about, Bucky?” You ask, smile dropping into a serious frown.

“It’s been over a year and a half since you’ve been here; over a year and a half since you’ve died. I think it’s time.” He tells you.

“Bucky, I don’t know. Don’t people follow you around? Take pictures? I can’t have my picture taken.” You tell him. The only person you really let take your picture is Bucky. You haven’t seen all of them, but you know he’s got hundreds of random pictures of your face in his camera roll. Some of them include him, some of them don’t, some are of you asleep, some are of you cooking, some are of you naked. Besides the point.

“Trust me. I’ve got the perfect spot. Dress cute for me tonight, yeah? You always do.”

…

It takes what feels like hours for you to decide what to wear. What does cute mean? Fancy? Casual? Business casual? Should you wear colors? Bucky wouldn’t take you somewhere where you can’t wear colors.

You decide on a dark green midi dress, small yellow and burgundy flowers covering the dress in a pattern. The thin straps sit on your shoulders and your tattooed leg slips through the slit on the side as you slip on a pair of brown platforms. Atop you slip on what’s probably the only black piece of clothing you own besides what’s been given to you here at the tower; a black denim jacket, one that Bucky got for you because you gave him that bright orange top that one time and it was time you have something of his style.

You almost regret shaving your head realizing as you look in the mirror just how much attention is now brought to yourself. As if dating Bucky Barnes wasn’t enough.

Sooner than you’d hoped, there’s a knock on your door and Bucky’s arrived, a casual dark button down shirt tucked into black slacks, leather shoes on his feet and he looks delicious. A mix of the young man from the 40’s and the modern soldier of today. The brooding, intimidating man wearing slightly high waisted slacks that are only missing a pair of suspenders. Goth and gentlemanly all the same.

You don’t miss the large bouquet of flowers in his hands, flowers of every shape and color and you gasp in surprise. “Did you think I wouldn’t bring my date flowers on our first date? You look beautiful. As always. Are you just about ready?” He tells you confidently, suaveness dripping from his voice as he looks at you lovingly. He can tell you’re nervous by the way your clammy hands take the flowers and you frantically look for a vase to put them in. But he’s not nervous. He actually doesn’t think he’s been this excited to take a girl out, ever. Maybe it’s been a while, but he thinks it has more to do with the fact that it’s you he’s going out with.

The drive to the small restaurant isn’t long, and on the way Bucky explains to you the small Italian place he grew to love as a teenager, the restaurant now run by the grandchildren of the original owners.

Upon entering the restaurant, smells of garlic and basil flood your nostrils and look around to see the place… empty. There’s only one other small family in the corner of the room, a younger couple with a child that couldn’t be older than five or six.

A teenage waitress leads the two of you to a table far enough away from the other family for some privacy and you have to ask Bucky if this place is actually as good as he says it is.

He laughs, “The place is just more popular for takeout, is all. Trust me, baby.” You can’t argue after being called the sweet pet name as you take your eyes off your boyfriend to skim down the menu.

Soon enough orders are placed and the two of you enjoy a comfortable silence, munching on the bread that was brought to the table. A loud, joyful giggle draws your eyes to the other family in the room, parents looking lovingly at their child as they seemingly recount some story of their day.

Multiple thoughts run through your head watching the little girl, her smooth skin, thick hair put up in tiny pigtails, her body covered in a pair of pink overalls and a glittery top underneath. Something your kid would be dressed in. Your kid.

Bucky’s words interrupt your thoughts but not your stare, “Do you ever think about it?”

“Think about what?” You reply, watching the girl rip at the bread in her small hands, sticking pieces of the soft middle bit in her mouth as she continues talking.

“Having a kid.”

You pause before answering truthfully, “Never. Until right now.”

“Never? At all?”

You finally pull away your stare before you’re caught, “Well, no one really thinks about kids when they're a teenager. And even then, I was poor growing up, so all I saw when thinking about a baby is how much I couldn’t afford one. And then when I joined the Marines, I figured… I’d die. Die with some honor for some stupid cause and that’d be it. And then in Hydra, well, I really thought I’d die there. And then when I got out… I suppose I never thought that I actually do have the chance now. I mean I have the safety of the tower, I have a full fridge at all times, access to medical care…” You trail off.

“I shouldn’t get ahead of myself; I’m not even sure I can have kids what with all that Hydra did to me - all the shit they pumped into me.” You pick at a piece of bread in the basket in front of you, not noticing the color drain from Bucky’s face.

You brought up a fear in him he never thought about. Can he have kids? Did the serum affect him in that aspect? If he did get someone pregnant, would the baby survive? With some kind of serum in them from him? He remembers hearing about so many other soldiers being given the serum and dying, not being able to handle the chemical changes. If grown men and healthy soldiers died from it, how could a baby survive?

“Do you?” You break his thoughts.

“Do I, what?” He asks, trying to mask the sudden fear from showing on his face.

“Think about it?”

“Constantly. I have since I was a kid.” He tells you, and your mouth drops in amused shock.

“A kid?!” He’s glad you seem to be past the thought of not being able to have kids because your carefree smile and amusement at the thought of ten year old Bucky taking care of his younger sister and wanting a kid of his own is enough to calm him down.

“I took care of my sister all the time. I think I liked her more than she liked me, I was always trying to drag her to hang out with me, teach her stuff, and she always just wanted to play with her dolls.” He laughs, thinking of all the time his little sister would grow annoyed at all the time he wanted to spend with her.

The smile on your face is bright as you watch him recount his childhood memory, but he sees the slight sadness in your eyes; he knows you were an only child. The food arrives and interrupts him before he can say anything about it, Thank you’s echoing from the couple as two plates of lasagna are placed in front of them.

A few minutes of silence goes by as the two of you begin eating away at the full plate of pasta and meat sauce. “For the record, I think you’d make the most fantastic mother.” Bucky tells you, and you pause the fork in the air and look up at him, not expecting him to tell you that.

“Thanks.” You tell him simply, appreciating the comment more than you think he’ll ever know.

[peaches-writes]

hwang’s guide to gardening

description: your neighbor, hyunjin, is a gardening novice trying to grow flowers and vegetables on their balcony for the summer member: hyunjin  genre: fluff, summer au, neighbor au word count: 3.4k  warnings: use of the word cuttings (but they’re used for leaves!) note: i’m not a plant expert my plants just died from the heat and typhoon and i miss gardening so i’m channeling my plant baby fever into writing. also, my writing’s rusty. 

It’s day 12 of Hyunjin tending to his mini garden of flowers and herbs, some of which he bought from an Instagram store with an aesthetic feed and questionable pricing. So far so good, he thinks to himself as he carefully waters the lilies and vegetables lined across the small expanse of the dorm balcony—of the 6 clay pots, no one’s threatening death yet. “By this Saturday, some of you might just be in our movie night pasta.” He reminds his pot of basil leaves. “I don’t know if I can tell you that.” 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to.” Seungmin agrees as he passes by the open clear sliding door, on the way to set up breakfast with Felix. “There are studies of plants dying because they get badmouthed.” 

 Panic briefly sets on Hyunjin’s face and his first instinct is to give the basil leaves extra drops of water. “Oh shit, I’m sorry—wait, I cursed, is that bad? I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” 

Behind him, Seungmin and Felix laugh. 

“If you’re done with your plants, breakfast is ready.” Seungmin calls for him. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Hyunjin nods absentmindedly as he moves along to his 4 other plants. “Here you go, babies, grow well, please.”

Hyunjin continues watering and tending to his other plants, making sure to whisper encouraging words now with the new gardening tip from Seungmin. He works in silence for a while, until, on the window right on the adjacent fire escape, you then appear, the usual trays of succulents in hand—9:10 AM on the dot as he has observed for the past almost 2 weeks.

“Hey, Hyunjin.” You greet when Hyunjin turns to your direction to water his 2 pots of lilies. You sometimes go out to sit on the fire escape but on most days, like today, you settle for reaching for everything from your window. “Any progress on the radishes?” 

Hyunjin takes a brief glance on his pot of radishes as you set down your succulents on the damp fire escape then reports, “They’re growing alright.” He then gestures over to a tray of succulent lead cuttings you’ve laid out nearest to the edge of the fire escape, where it can get the most sun. “What are those for?” 

“These? I’ve been drying them for a few days before planting them so I can grow more succulents.” You answer as if you’ve just made a new discovery. “If they’re successful, I might consider selling them.” 

“How long does it take to grow?” “Around a month? I just looked this up on YouTube the other day.”

Hyunjin nods understandingly. Though you’ve had a habit of tending to plants longer than he has (even before you moved in the building with your roommate, he recalls), succulents were a new venture for you—at least from the sporadic small talks you’ve had over the window so far. “Can I do that to my plants?” 

“Depends on the plant, you should look it up.” You briefly survey his garden with the limited view you have from your window. “I think you can definitely cut the basil stems.” 

“Really?” You nod with a hum, having previously taken care of basil leaves yourself. “Huh, that wasn’t on the instructions I got from the store.” 

“Cut some leaves up to the stem then put them in water until they grow roots, from what I remember, that should do the trick.” You advice, finally done with putting all of your succulent trays outside after a long night of rain. Faintly, Hyunjin then hears your roommate call for you from inside your own apartment as she does on most mornings. “Okay, I gotta go, Jisoo’s calling for me.” 

“Alright, see you.” Hyunjin waves goodbye to you with a smile as you back away from the window, already done with tending to his own garden as well. 

Once you’re out of sight, Hyunjin also stands up from squatting around his balcony for the past 5 minutes, stretching his arms and legs then returning back inside the apartment. 

And that’s how most of his mornings have been since he began gardening.  

 “You’re all smiley.” Jisung immediately notes teasingly, alone on the dinner table when Hyunjin steps into the kitchen while everyone else who’s finished breakfast have returned to their own rooms. At that, Hyunjin is suddenly aware of the dazed smile he wears. “Did you see Y/N out again?”

 “Yes but it’s not because I saw them that I’m all smiley!” Hyunjin quickly defends himself, making a beeline to the refrigerator to retrieve juice. “I just got a lot of gardening tips today, that’s all.” 

“Sure, whatever you say.” Jisung chuckles, turning his attention back to the video he’s watching on his phone.

Two days later, Hyunjin goes to his balcony garden to see you already seated on the fire escape, a rectangular pot on your lap where you strategically place the succulent cuttings you’ve been drying. At the faint rustling of his pajamas, you immediately look up from your work to greet him with a simple wave. “They’re ready to go.” You proudly tilt the pot towards his direction in such a way that the cuttings don’t move. 

“You’re not going to bury them on the soil?” Is the first question Hyunjin asks as he squats down on the ground and picks up his watering can. 

“If I do, they’ll rot.” You pick up a stem cutting from their drying tray, showing him the dried up opening. “This is where the plant will grow after a few days of keeping them inside and occasionally watering them, it’s the side that used to stick on the mom plant.” 

“And when they fully grow?” “Then I’ll bury them on the soil and they’ll be new life!”

You see genuine fascination on his face so you say, “Amazing, ‘no?” 

“And it’ll be this way for a month—it sounds hard.” He muses, proceeding to water his plants. He thinks of his own lilies, growing, yes, but painstakingly slow in his eyes since it’s the first time he’s growing them. 

“It is—it’s quite the bargain.” You agree with a nod. “But I’ll be the happiest person ever if a lot of them sprout.” 

Despite only knowing you the mostly from your small conversations every morning, Hyunjin thinks he likes you the best when you’re talking about something you’re passionate about. “I’m sure they’ll grow, you take care of them well.” 

“Don’t flatter me.” You manage a chuckle. “Still, I worry since it’s not the same as the other plants I have back home. These are a bit unconventional, to say the least.” 

“Nah, I really believe you’ll do well raising them.” He persists. “Just trust the process.” 

You nod through your work, a smile unconsciously forming on your lips at the encouragement. “Tell you what? I’ll give you one for free if at least half of these live.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, so you can have more variety on your garden.” You answer. “And you can tell your 2,000 Instagram followers about my new summer business.”

Hyunjin chuckles at the thought, though seriously contemplating it. “I’ll trade you with these lilies if you want.” He offers, suddenly confident of the lilies he’s been worrying about. 

"Oh? Don’t you want to save them for someone special?” 

Hyunjin is immediately flustered by this. “N-No? There’s no one special lately.” 

You raise an eyebrow, questioningly at him. “Really? I thought you’d be the type.” 

Hyunjin is quite popular in school, you think to yourself. A month ago, back when you still had classes, you remember how Hyunjin’s often the talk of your classmates in a lot of general classes. 

He shrugs, though somehow it makes him feel iffy to say what he just said along with, “I just wanted to try growing flowers.” 

Glancing briefly at you from his pot of basil leaves, you seem unfazed by his flushed cheeks, “Well, eventually the lilies might die since they’re seasonal. You might want to consider giving them to someone at least—maybe your mom or Kkami, I don’t know.” You suggest. “You’re growing them really well, too, it’d be a shame if you didn’t show them to other people.” 

You remember how his roommates teased him when he got the seeds and planting kit in the mail so you made sure to mention his mom (whom you’ve only met once when students were leaving for the holidays) and his dog (who got lost once in the rooftop while you were drying clothes). 

“Aw, but I’ll miss them.” “Don’t worry, I think you can grow the bulbs.” 

“Really?” You hum in yes. “I’ll look that up later.” 

Naturally, you then continue to work in silence until you finished your work earlier and bid him goodbye—a rare occurrence since he usually leaves first. 

When you leave, Hyunjin immediately whips out his phone and searches how to propagate lilies. 

It’s day 22, Felix has started to pester Hyunjin on when his basil leaves will grow again for another bowl of movie night pasta, and his lilies are almost ready to bloom, reaching up almost to his thighs. They’re pink Asiatic lilies, a pop of color amidst all the green leaves and dull shades of root crops, but lately, he’s more fascinated with how you’ve been growing your succulents that seem to grow agonizingly slow, especially since you keep them inside throughout the day rather than let them bask in full sun like your other grown succulents. 

“They’re echevaria lolas.” You stumble over the pronunciation this particular morning, letting them sit outside for the fresh morning air and faint sunlight before the sun fully drenches your side of the building later in the afternoon. “The mom looked like a lotus so eventually they’ll look like lotuses too.”

“Everyone good so far?” Hyunjin asks while googling how to propagate radishes for later. 

“There were some two or three who’ve died, unfortunately.” You frown, showing him the barely noticeable empty spaces on your pot. “But it’s okay, I guess, since I have a lot more.” 

“How do you know if they’ve died?” “They wrinkle or turn purple.” 

“Oh, sorry.” He frowns too which you stifle a giggle at knowing he’s starting to care really deeply for plant life. 

“It’s cool.” You shrug. “That’s just how it is.” 

You also show him how hints of roots and stems are now growing on some of your leaf cuttings, the biggest smile on your face he’s ever seen in the short time you’ve been neighbors so far. 

“I’ll give you this one.” You point to the biggest leave with the biggest progress in the group. “I predict that by next week it’ll have a center already or maybe even its own new leaf!” 

“Ah, you don’t have to!” He insists, waving his hand dismissively. “What if it’s the prettiest? Then everyone would want to buy it when you sell them.” 

“If it’s the prettiest, then it better end up on your garden so that I’ll know it’ll fully grow prettily.” You counter. 

Though you said it casually, Hyunjin swore to Jeongin later on that he felt that he almost fainted in front of you then—out of the small crush he’s harbored over you the entire summer or honor of you entrusting one of your plants to him, he’s not quite sure. 

“I think Y/N’s nice.” Jeongin comments. “And I think you have a crush.” 

On the cloudy afternoon of day 28, Hyunjin jogs down to the building’s lobby to retrieve his package of new clay pots and seeds. They’re smaller compared to the ones he bought last time since they’ll only be housing a new batch of root crops (after Felix hoarded almost all of his radishes and basil leaves last week). Arriving at the building front door to meet the delivery man, he sees you coming home from your summer job at the ice cream parlor on the next block. 

“Hey.” He greets you, feeling a bit weird since you’re not upstairs on the fire escape. “How was work?” 

The delivery man leaves after Hyunjin pays, making way for you as you climb up the steps to the front door. “It was okay, not a lot of people since it’s been raining lately.” You shrug off your raincoat and close your umbrella before stepping inside, walking next to Hyunjin as you both climb up the stairs to your respective apartments on the 4th floor. 

Hyunjin also hasn’t seen you lately since it started raining, forcing you to keep your succulents inside and leaving only some of your leaves to stay outside the whole day. “And how are the leaf cuttings?” 

“They’re okay.” You answer. “They all have roots now!” 

“That’s...that’s good to hear.” He comments awkwardly, suddenly finding it difficult to talk about anything. After all, it’s one of the rare times he’s seen you outside your place. 

Luckily, you pick up the conversation from him. “How about you? It’s been almost a month, are the lilies blooming yet?” 

At this, Hyunjin visibly frowns from the corner of your eye. “They’re growing taller but they’re not blooming yet.” 

“Maybe they just need more time.” You console him, finally reaching the 4th floor. “Plants don’t care much about exact dates and times but they’ll grow eventually.” 

You glance over at Hyunjin as he walks further to his dormitory’s door adjacent yours. He turns to your direction before going inside, his frown now a small smile. “I hope so, thanks.”

You nod. “No problem.” You smile at him before blurting out, “I believe in you, if-if that helps.”

When you do check his balcony later on that day, you see his lilies have grown significantly taller since the last time you went out on your fire escape but as he said, they haven’t even bloomed yet. 

Hyunjin’s lilies bloom on day 32 which is day 18 of your leaf cuttings. You went out to your fire escape earlier than usual on this particular morning so that your succulents can get a lot of sun after a few days of rain. 

“Congratulations!” Hyunjin comes out to his balcony with your proud exclaim and he immediately turns to your direction where his lilies also are in his line of vision, fully-bloomed. “Congrats on your first flowers!” 

“Thanks.” He shyly grins from ear to ear, kneeling in front of his flowers to observe them. 

“They’re really pretty.” You comment. “You raised them well.” 

At the compliment, he blushes. “Do you want some?” Hyunjin looks up to you and this time, you’re the one who’s flustered. “I can cut up a few.” 

“What? No, I’m cool, thanks.” You shrug off the rising heat on your face. “I don’t have vases that match the flowers, anyway.” 

At this point, both of you (albeit unknowingly) think that your excuses are getting more and more ridiculous but Hyunjin seems to just accept it and say, “I’ll go get Felix and Seungmin! They need to see this.” 

“Go get Chan too, it looks like he hasn’t seen the light of day since summer started.” You chuckle, remembering how you haven’t seen the oldest boy in their apartment much since summer started. 

“Yeah, good idea.” Hyunjin hurries inside, calling to his roommates eating breakfast. 

After a while, as you were preparing to go back inside your own apartment, all seven of Hyunjin’s roommates cramp into the small balcony, all in different expressions of surprise at the flowers. 

“Woah, they’re so pretty!” You hear Felix comment under his breath. 

“Hyung, can I get some?” Jeongin asks to which Hyunjin jokingly replies, “You have to pay for them!” 

You greet the boys from your space on the fire escape and they greet you back with knowing smiles to which Hyunjin elbows Jisung who stands nearest to him. “Yah.” 

“What? Can’t I greet Y/N?” Jisung whispers loudly. 

“You have that weird look!” “What weird look?” 

Luckily, you were already inside since Jisoo called on you again before Jisung told everyone of Hyunjin’s little crush. 

“Ooh, what if you give some of these to Y/N next-door?” Minho suggests. 

“They said they’re ok with not getting some of them.” Hyunjin answers. “I’m planning to send some to my mom and dad.” 

“Hyunjin, even when they say they don’t want flowers, you should still give them flowers.” Changbin insists matter-of-factly. 

“Ah, I have a better idea!” Chan exclaims. 

You come home from work on day 34 and come across Hyunjin by the entrance of your building again, this time getting off a taxi, probably from his parent’s place given the two coolers of frozen meat and kimchi he was taking juggling in his hands that always signifies that his mom bought food for everyone in Hyunjin’s apartment. When the taxi drives away and you manage to walk faster to get to him, he greets you with a grin, “Hey, Y/N.” 

You nod and wave hello. “Back from your parents’ place?” 

“Yeah, I delivered flowers.” His smile grows wider. “My mom liked them, especially.” 

“Oh, that’s good to know.” You return his smile. “Do you need help?” 

But he shakes his head at your offer. “No, I’m good. Come on, I have something for you.” 

You look at him suspiciously as you open the building entrance for him but decided on humoring him and agreeing, “Sure.” 

You climb up the stairs in almost complete silence. You ask him briefly about his short trip to the other side of the city and he tells you about how Kkami has been since you last saw the dog. You almost missed how he answers rather curtly and nervously, as if he’s hiding something. 

“Oh, right, wait here!” He suddenly stops you from proceeding to your apartment when you arrive on the 4th floor, sprinting to his before you could even utter a word. 

You stand alone in the hallway for a short while, until Hyunjin re-emerges from his apartment with a medium-sized pot in his hands. “Ta-da!” He holds it up to your eye-level for you to clearly see the label written in his careful handwriting, lily bulbs. “You said you didn’t want the flowers but you didn’t say that you didn’t want bulbs.” 

“Hyunjin—” He thrusts the plant pot in your hands happily, a little proud that he’s got you flustered again. 

“I just want to say thank you for helping me grow my garden this past month.” He insists before quietly adding, “And Chan may or may not also have mentioned that it’s more romantic if I gave you something to grow yourself rather than give you a flower right away since you’re the plant expert.” 

“Huh? Romantic?” You can’t help but smile at the choice of word. 

“Y-Yeah.” He agrees with a small nod. Now he’s equally flustered, even more when he unintentionally blurts out next, “Maybe by the time they grow their own bulbs to plant, we’re already on our 100th day.” 

At that, you finally break into laughter, making Hyunjin laugh as well, albeit more nervously. “What? What 100th day?” You visibly cringe in front of him but with good intentions. 

“I’m trying my best here!” 

“Are you perhaps asking me out?” Surprisingly, he nods slowly in yes, momentarily stunning you.  

A beat of silence passes by that Hyunjin starts preparing himself to pass your conversation off as a joke. 

“Listen—” But before he could even get another word out, you beat him to it.   

“Okay, I’ll take it—cheesy line and all.” You interject, taking a step back to your apartment. “Let me just go get you something in exchange.” 

“You don’t have to.” But you ignore him, proceeding by saying, “No, I insist! Meet me at the back.” 

When he does meet you at the back, on his balcony, you pass him one of your leaf cuttings from the fire escape, the one you pointed at him from before except now it’s grown into the smallest flower with barely enough leaves to form 1 ring of leaves resembling petals. “’Maybe when it’s big enough to look like a flower, it’ll already be our 100th day.” You tease him, earning you a ‘yah!’ from him that just makes you laugh harder than a while back. “Just keep it on a pot with lots of rocks and good drainage, spritz it with water every few days, and keep it away from direct sunlight until it grows into a full succulent.” 

“I—” “It means yes, Hyunjin, I’ll go out with you.”

“R-really?” His eyes grow big, not really expecting that you’d agree. 

“Yeah, just make sure to take care of the leaf cutting I gave you! It’s the prettiest among my plant babies!” For the first time since the two of you crossed paths today, Hyunjin finally lets go of the breath he’s been holding at your words. “And less cheesy lines, please.” 

“Okay noted.”

Hyunjin’s leaf cutting starts growing into a proper succulent on day 70 of tending to his mini garden of flowers and herbs. The lily bulb he gave you has already sprouted as well. It’s not your 100th day yet as you predicted then but you’re still going out on dates (with less cheesy lines now) and googling how to propagate more plants. 

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Crimson Shadows: Prologue

Jercy Vampire AU: Prologue

Masterlist for other parts, bad headcanons, and an abundance of crackships.

Information guide to this fic

Ahhh it’s finally here. Today I've been alive 21 years and one of my greatest accomplishments was building this community who read all my terrible headcanons, and weird fanfics and the crack-ships I insist on writing for. Thank you for being here and supporting me. This blog would literally be nothing without you. And I hope you enjoy this fic. I have a feeling it’s going to be quite the journey!

The evening air is ripe with the poison of the city. Vendors pack up their carts of hotdogs and sweet packets and the flying pages of magazines, more than ready to go home after another long, tiresome, blistering hot day. People shuffle along, scuffing the pavement in that way that says they’re already sick and tired of the week and it’s only Aquila, the first day. The smell of unclean air- tobacco and candyfloss, a vape of course- drifts between people’s fisted fingers like a vile wind made just to kill you. The sun has passed the tallest building in Masina, and sinks steadily towards the Zafir river. A small almost unnoticeable breeze hurries over the shorter concrete slabs of home and office, trying as hard as it might to land somewhere that loves it; the trees, or the grass, it’ll even settle for a window flower pot. But no luck, for it is slapped again and again with hard, cold, grey slabs before dying against them in a soft sigh.

A person steps out of the backdoor of a restaurant, tightening a stained apron and scowling as they throw a box in the dumpster across the alley. They feel the lost breeze like a caress on their cheek, but they don’t do anything about it, uncaring of wind, and water, and flowers, and life. Or at least that is the fate of humans, to not care for anything but themselves, and this one does not seem any different. There are much more pressing matters at hand. It is a delight, sinful delicious delight, then when a shadow moves past that reeking, green dump and slips in behind a scowling person and swinging door.

The kitchen they enter is hot. So hot it feels like the inside of an oven. And there is noise coming from everything. Dirty cutlery being shoved into a large plastic bin for washing. Sizzling pans at every stove. The smooth cut of vegetables on the metal table. The hiss of gas as it opens and a flame sputters to life. The bang of the pot as it hits the stove. The splash of plates as they fall into soapy water. And the shouting is a surround sound speaker, directly into your eardrums. ‘To your left.’ ‘The bechamel.’ ‘Behind you.’ ‘Watch the plate.’ ‘Onions chopped.’ ‘Make way for the soup.’ Someone check this! The large silver doors on the far end slam open and a flustered waiter stumbles in. “I need the gnocchi at table nine or I need hard drugs.” They say, voice loud, rushed, but not annoyed.

Someone laughs, and the sound disappears under splattering oil. “I have coke in the car but you have to wait till after my shift.”

The waiter, the cooks, the cleaners, huff a laugh and for one brief moment it is the loudest sound in the kitchen and then an over-boiling pot makes the flames burst and everyone is back to that familiar chaos. Someone hands the waiter a gleaming white bowl with steaming, tomatoey gnocchi pooled perfectly in it; a small leaf of basil decorates the top like a ridiculous green hat. The waiter gives a relieved smile and rushes out with breathless concern. Must get it to table nine, now!

A shadow moves away from the huge refrigerator and slips into the pantry. A chef, decked in a black buttoned apron and flushed red cheeks lunges into the pantry, already reaching for a new packet of something. It’s too far, they have to go further in, step on the sliding ladder. They climb up a rung, two, and reach, reach, reach, Their hand closes around a crinkling bag of long-grain rice and they smile in satisfaction. With misplaced efficiency they hop down from the ladder, and land on a bag of potatoes, falling before they can help it. Someone catches them.

The first thing they see is green eyes, as bright and unnerving as shining emeralds at the bottom of a cursed sea. And then a face, beautiful, so unbelievably, unnaturally beautiful with sharp angles and full lips and rich copper brown skin. And then finally a wide, bright smile, full of gleaming teeth and sharp fangs.

“What is your name darling?” The lush, pink mouth moves, giving them flashes of those pretty teeth. And that voice is deep, and rolling, and promises seduction of the richest kind.

“Agreya,” They mutter, blinking, shocked, hypnotised.

“Thank you for this meal.” He smiles, and the chef knows they'll follow those sparkling green eyes to the middle of the desert.

He leans down, kisses their neck. There’s a sharp sting like being splashed with hot oil, or discovering a tiny cut when you squeeze a lemon. And then there is nothing. Inky blackness and swirls of red and heat and desire, but there is no feeling.

He lifts his head up, running his tongue over red-stained teeth. “You should eat more protein.” His mouth lifts at the corner as his face hides a laugh.

He kisses their forehead ever so softly, and they fall apart at the seams. “Goodbye Agreya.”

There are only shadows and food and looming ladders. Agreya steps over the bag of potatoes, rice still clutched in their hand, and staggers into the ever bustling kitchen.

“There you are!” Someone exclaims, grabbing the packet from their hand and racing to another station.

“Agreya, what the hell is on your neck, it looks like you stabbed yourself with a fork. Jesus, get yourself cleaned up and help with the lentil soup. We’ve got a full house tonight.”

Agreya blinks, rubs their eyes, wipes the crimson stain on their neck and just like that the world comes back into focus. They are shocked out of the daze, brought on by… by… by…

“Agreya you good?”

“Yea,” They smile, and start washing lentils.

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

Tags (if you want to be added to/taken off the tag list all my channels of communication are open):

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[javistg]

Through the Senses

Chapter 3. Smell.

The third instalment of TTS is here! To read the previous chapters you can go HERE or to AO3 or FF.net.

This one’s from Katniss’s POV.

Hope you enjoy ❤️

  The electric fence, covered in early morning dew, loomed on the horizon. 

 Keeping to the narrow alleys of the Seam, Katniss reached the empty Meadow. The smell of freshly cut grass tickled her nose. 

She quickened her step. The place would be crawling with Peacekeepers soon -- and not the usual lazy kind. 

 The officers patrolling the streets today had been sent directly from the Capitol to oversee the reaping. They wore spotless uniforms and walked in a straight line. 

 Young and arrogant, they always kept their eyes peeled for any irregularities. The thought of catching some poor sucker trying to break the law drew them in, but the prospect of showing up the local authorities --and gaining some glory-- was what truly drove them on their quest.

 Luckily for Katniss --who spent her days breaking the law— their loud, coordinated footsteps, paired with the stench of bleach they left behind, were hard to ignore.

 Stealthily, she walked over to the loose spot in the fence and, hiding behind a clump of brushes, flattened out on her belly and slid underneath.

 After retrieving her bow and sheath of arrows, she moved deeper into the woods. There, hidden by the thick line of trees encircling District 12, she breathed easy again. 

 Wrapped in the scent of pine needles and wet dirt she knew so well, Katniss made her way to the rock ledge where Gale was waiting for her. 

 Breakfast was good that morning. Fresh bakery bread; goat’s cheese packed in fragrant basil leaves; sweet blackberries, tart and juicy, that tasted like summer dreams. 

 The sun was high in the sky when the hunting partners walked back to the district. Their satchels were full; their hearts heavy. A good haul didn’t matter as much when the reaping was just a few hours away. 

 Eager to get rid of their goods, Katniss and Gale stopped by the Hob first. 

 The sweet smell of ripe strawberries followed the hunters. Stubborn and thick, it hung in the air as they traded their fish for bread and salt. 

 After visiting Sae, Katniss wrapped her arms over her hunting bag and stepped out into the bright day. Keeping her eyes to the ground, she hoped the visiting Peacekeepers wouldn’t notice the unmistakable fragrance trailing behind on her way to the mayor’s house.  

 By the time she got home, a warm bath awaited her. 

 After scrubbing off the dirt and sweat from the woods, Katniss washed her hair. Clean and refreshed, she rested her neck on the lip of the tub, stretched out her legs, and closed her eyes. 

 As the water cooled down around her, she took a deep, long breath. 

 The anise shrub Mrs. Everdeen had planted on the windowsill was in full bloom. The soft, cotton-like blossoms released their heady scent into the muggy air, sending memories of hearty winter stews and rainy afternoons back into Katniss’s mind. 

 Soon she’d have to dry off and get ready to go to the square, but for a few blissful seconds, her world was at peace. 

 Prim hadn’t taken any tesserae. Their pantry was full. 

 Somewhere deep, in that place in her soul where she tried not to dwell, Katniss hoped her father would approve.

XXXXX

The cave was still dark when Katniss opened her eyes. 

 Pushing her hood away from her face, she stretched out her neck and greedily filled her lungs with cold, early morning air.

 Outside, a fierce storm raged on, pelting the rocks of the cave, and filling the small space with the rhythmic patter of droplets hitting wet earth. 

 The scent of damp tree bark and green moss that filtered through the rocks reminded her of her woods, but the strong arms holding her tethered her to reality. These weren’t the woods surrounding District 12. Her life in the Seam was miles away. 

 Trying not to disturb her district partner, Katniss gingerly flipped over on her side. It was a tight fit inside the sleeping bag, but she didn’t mind. Having Peeta there, keeping guard right next to her, beat being alone, any time. 

 “You OK?” he asked, lifting his arm to accommodate her movements. 

 “Mm-hmm. Just needed to change position,” Katniss mumbled, drowsily resting her head on his shoulder and her hand over his chest.

 Peeta’s arms wrapped around her. 

 He smelled of sweat, dirt, ointment, and… rust? 

 Probably the dried blood on his bandages, Katniss thought.  

 It wasn’t the most enticing aroma —some might have even found it nauseating— but, to her, it was better than the most expensive Capitol perfume. 

 She was so relieved to have him there, alive and kicking and resting in her arms instead of dead by the river bed, that she rubbed her nose against his t-shirt and smiled.

 “Hey, that tickles,” Peeta chuckled.

 “Sorry,” she said around a yawn.

 Lifting his free hand, Peeta began brushing the loose strands of hair on her forehead, gently stroking them back into her messy braid. “Not a problem.” His voice was a soothing caress when he asked, “D’you want me to tell you a story to help you sleep?”

 A story? 

 The world outside was falling apart. 

 The star-crossed lovers of District 12 were still trapped in an arena with a crazed career hot on their trail, but as she lay there —comforted by the steady warmth of Peeta’s body beside her— none of that seemed to matter much. 

 Maybe a bedtime story is just what I need. “Tell me about those cakes you make,” Katniss asked, “the pretty ones.” 

 Still stroking her hair, Peeta told her about the bits of chalk he collected when he was little, and of the funny animals he liked to draw on the sidewalk. “Then, when I was eight,” he whispered as her breathing evened out, “my father asked me to make those same caricatures on a birthday cake. I’ve been in charge of frosting ever since.”

 Peeta’s soft words blended with the gentle melody of water dancing around them, and before long, Katniss drifted off. 

XXXXX

Wrapped in her mother’s old shawl, Katniss rocked back and forth. Back and forth.

A few feet away, a fire danced in the hearth. 

The smoke of burning hickory and eucalyptus leaves floated through the house, infusing the empty rooms with its soothing aroma.

Dull, Katniss stared at the flames and rocked. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Morning broke.  

Sae bustled about in the kitchen, humming softly to herself until the smell of scrambled eggs and toast filled the room. 

“Come on, girl, breakfast’s ready,” Sae called out.

Too tired to do anything but comply, Katniss dragged her feet over to the table, sat down, and slowly cleaned her plate. 

Days went by.

The rocking chair by the fireplace swayed back and forth. Back and forth.

Sae cooked and scrubbed the house clean. Traces of lemon peel and soap lingered in the air late into the night.

Lost in a world of pain and shadows, Katniss buried her nose in her mother’s shawl and, numbing her senses with the smell of mothballs and lavender that still clung to the soft fabric, rocked in her chair. 

Back and forth. Back and forth.

“Spring is in the air today,” Sae said one morning. “You ought to get out. Go hunting.”

The idea seemed absurd, but a few hours later, Katniss left her chair and walked down to the study.  

Wrapped in the musky smell of her father’s hunting jacket, she fell asleep on the couch.

The next morning, Peeta came back. 

Shaken, Katniss shut the door behind her and ran up the stairs and into her room. 

The scent was very faint, but it still laced the air. 

A white rose —shriveled and fragile, but holding on to that unnatural perfection cultivated in Snow’s greenhouse— stood among the dried flowers in a vase.

Grabbing the vase, Katniss stumbled back to the kitchen and threw its contents into the embers. 

The flowers flared up. A burst of blue flame enveloped the rose and devoured it. 

Fire beats roses again, she thought, smashing the vase on the hardwood floor.

Back in her bathroom, Katniss peeled off her clothes and stepped into the shower. 

Chamomile scented bubbles danced around her, washing away the weeks of dirt and neglect.

Later, as she untangled her hair, rubbing pomegranate infused oil to the damaged strands, she began to wonder about the world outside her door. 

Haymitch was probably at home —drinking himself into oblivion.

Peeta was back. 

Where was everyone else?

XXXXX

Restored after a good night’s sleep, Katniss stretched her arms and legs until they reached the edges of the bed. With a contented sigh, she relaxed onto the mattress and turned to the empty space next to her. 

The sheets were rumpled but cold. Peeta had woken up early. 

Frowning, Katniss flipped over, buried her nose in his pillow, and took a deep breath.

Nutmeg, vanilla, orange peel, and something else —deep and enticing that she identified as exclusively Peeta’s— tickled her nose and soothed her worries.

Smiling again, she pushed the covers away and got up. 

After brushing her teeth and getting ready for the day, Katniss threw the windows open.  

The smell of sweet lemons and ripe cherries greeted her, making her heart jump in joy. The trees in her orchard were in full bloom. Summer had begun. 

Humming a happy tune, Katniss walked down the stairs. 

As she neared the kitchen, her nose picked up hints of cinnamon, melted butter, and bacon sizzling in the skillet. 

Her stomach grumbled in anticipation. Sunday Brunches with Peeta were something she looked forward to all week. 

“Morning!” she said, slipping into the kitchen.

Peeta turned away from the stove. His eyes lit up at the sight of her. “Morning! Did you have a good night?”

“Yup.” Katniss walked over to the counter and reached the teapot. It was already full. “How about you? You woke up early.”

Peeta turned his attention back to the skillet with the bacon. “I woke up at seven. I couldn’t go back to sleep, so I figured I could start my day.”

With a soft hum, Katniss poured herself a cup of tea. “Want some?” 

“Yeah, I’m almost done here.” 

While Peeta cracked two eggs onto a waiting pan, Katniss poured two teacups and carried them back to the table where she sat down. 

Resting her elbows on the countertop, she watched him work. 

He looked good. He had recovered some of the weight he’d lost during the war, and the yard work he did every day had given his pale skin a healthy golden glow.

“Got any plans for today?” she asked as the earthy smell of the freshly brewed tea hung around her.

 Peeta began to plate the bacon and eggs. “Not really, but it’s a nice day out. We should do something.”

 “How would you like to go for a swim?” 

Peeta turned around; eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really? Where?” 

“I know a place.” Katniss reached out and took the plate he was offering. French toast with cinnamon, maple syrup, fried eggs, roasted apples, bacon. The smell alone was enough to make her mouth water. 

Peeta sat down. “Is it far from here?”

“It’s a bit of a walk -- we’ll need to take some food for later -- but I think it’s worth it.” Dipping a bit of bread in the egg, she added, “You should bring your watercolors.”

Looking up from his food, Peeta smiled at her. A soft, warm smile that spoke of the trust between them, the joy he found in the small moments they shared. 

Blushing, Katniss nodded to his plate. “Eat up, your food’s getting cold.” 

They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence, stealing shy glances over their food while Katniss made a mental list of everything she wanted to show him on the way to her father’s lake. 

[2manyfandoms2count]

AU Yeah August Day 13

Here’s another AU for @auyeahaugust! Will it evolve into a fully-fledged story? Probably. Hope you’ll enjoy! xxx

---

Day 13: Flower Shop AU

Marinette stared at the blank page in front of her, pensively tapping her pencil on her desk. She could have sworn that she’d found the perfect outfit to close her next fashion show as she was about to fall asleep the previous night. Something so spectacular, she knew she’d remember it in the morning.

Except morning had come, and still the design eluded her. She had raked her brain throughout breakfast, causing a couple of spills, during her commute to work, which had almost made her miss her stop, and ever since she’d sat down at her desk, three hours ago. The page just stared right back at her.

She sighed and dropped her pencil. Leaning her head on top of her hand, she took a look at her surroundings. She loved her office. She had furnished it in a way that let her creativity flow, and it did the trick - most of the time. The wide windows let the Spring sunshine in, the rays ricocheting against the smooth white surfaces of the cabinets, and the strategically placed mirrors. It made the room look larger, brighter. 

She had restrained what she considered to be her clutter to the right hand side of the room. A large cork board took up most of the wall space there, covered in overlapping swatches and sketches. On a low table below it were piles of fashion magazines, more or less old, that she kept for reviews or inspiration. A couple of picture frames also stood there, containing pictures of her parents and friends, and some good shots of herself at fashion shows.

Her eyes swept the room and landed on an intricate vase that sat opposite her. The cleaner, Mister Fu, always made a point to buy flowers for her office, and refused to put them on the company’s bill. It was his way of thanking her for keeping him on despite his old age. She’d never been able to tell exactly how old he was, but one thing was for sure: he was beyond French retiring age. He’d appeared seemingly out of nowhere when she’d established her brand, and worked around as the two-room office expanded into a three-room, a full floor, and now a whole building with Marinette Designs gaining more and more recognition in the fashion world. He cleaned, DIYed, decorated, and had a good eye for things that needed fixing, even if no one knew it yet. She’d come to consider his services as invaluable, especially the odd wisdom bits he provided every once in a while. She really could have done with his help today, maybe he could have helped her with the eluding dress. He’d taken the day off, though, and, if she judged by the wilting flowers that stood in front of her, had forgotten his self-appointed florist duties. Maybe that was what was blocking her flow.

She stood up and walked towards the vase, grabbed it, and made her way towards her office bin. It had been a wonderful bouquet, colourful and fragrant. The sweet smell of lilies remained as she picked them up and shook them gently above the vase, so as to get rid of as much water as she could before throwing them away. As she dropped them, a small card disentangled from the stems and landed next to the paper basket. Marinette crouched down and picked it up.

“The Cat’s fleowers.”She read, cringing at the bad pun. A little black cat holding a four-leafed clover sat under the flower shop's name, and above its address. 

She recognised the street as one she took every day, and the number as being between her metro station and the office, yet she couldn’t picture the shop. She shrugged, slid the card on her desk and walked back to her chair, plumping down in front of the taunting white page. 

Quarter of an hour of fidgeting, head scratching and deep sighing later, Marinette looked up again, having achieved nothing but weak sketches. The vase caught her eyes once again, its emptiness now bothering her. 

She glanced at her watch. Quarter to twelve. She’d be off for her lunch break soon, anyway. She grabbed her vest and handbag and left her office, giving a small wave at her secretary as she did so. 

She breathed in deeply and smiled contently as she exited the building, reveling in the warm sunshine that landed on her face. She dug out her butterfly sunglasses and walked down the street.

---

Adrien was bored. He usually never tired of working in Mr Fu’s flower shop, but today seemed like the exception. He’d met Mr Fu by chance one day as he came back from one of his modelling jobs, and had helped the old man carry large potted plants inside the premises. Adrien had fallen in love with the cool atmosphere and the plethora of flowers, which made him feel like he’d just stepped into a different corner of the world. He hadn’t hesitated when Mr Fu had asked him if he’d be interested in working there on the days he couldn’t come in. The fact he could wear a relaxed attire, rather than his usual smart dress, was a bonus. So far, no one had recognised him.

Although the shop was generally quite busy, it seemed like everyone had decided to shun flowers today. Not one customer had pushed the door to his little botanical heaven. Even Plagg, the resident black cat, had decided to loaf around, hidden somewhere between the azaleas and the hibiscuses. 

Adrien was about to give up and head out early for lunch when he heard the characteristic jingle of the door. His breath caught as an elegant lady walked in. She wore a simple, yet tasteful, red polka-dotted dress which had him instantly nickname her ‘Ladybug’. Her eyes were masked by large sunglasses. Standing in the midst of the flowers, she looked like a model in a jungle-themed photo shoot. He would know, having participated in more than one.

From where he stood, at the till, he had a good view of what was going on in the shop, without actually being seen, hidden behind the hanging plants section. He watched as she walked around hesitantly, examining the different bouquets on display. She turned around and her apparent perplexity made him shake out of his admiration. He strode out of his hiding place, smoothing his black and green apron as he did so.

“Hi, welcome to the Cat’s fleower’s, may I help you?” He wished there was something more original to say, but he could hardly go ahead and just offer her flowers. 

Marinette frowned slightly, although her expression was hidden by her bangs and glasses. There was something familiar about the man standing before her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She quickly scanned his appearance, her designer eye turning into critique mode, and tried to identify where she’d seen him before. He was, she would say, conventionally handsome, in an ‘I don’t try’ way. His blond hair was tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed (it wasn’t a bad look, but it could be improved on), and his glasses bore a layer of dirt which occulted his eyes, that she assumed were green. He definitely would have stood out from all the manicured men she mixed with in the fashion world. A stray Chat Noir amidst a bunch of aristocats. 

Maybe she’d just seen him in the street.

“Hello, I wanted to buy a bouquet, but I can’t really pick. You have a beautiful selection.” She smiled, and Adrien could swear his heart skipped a beat. 

“Thank you.” He replied, deciding to take the compliment as if he’d ordered the flowers himself. “If I may ask, what’s the occasion?”

“Oh, nothing in particular.” She shrugged. “I just like having blooms around when I work.” 

“That makes two of us.” He winked. “Is there anything you feel drawn to? Or any emotions you’re feeling?”

Marinette thought it was quite a personal question to ask someone he’d just met, but didn’t dislike it.

“I’m short on inspiration these days.” She admitted.

“Creativity boost, coming right up!” He grinned. Now was his time to shine; ever since starting this part-time job, he’d started reading up on the flower language, and it seemed like his study would finally be paying off. “As it happens, I have angelicas, which represent inspiration, in stock. I’ll also add hollyhock for ambition, gerberas for stress relief, sweet basil for good wishes, and-”

He was interrupted by her ringtone. Ladybug fished her phone out of her handbag, and saw a familiar face on the screen.

“Sorry, I have to take this.” She apologised, swiping to answer. He nodded understandingly and gestured that he’d be wrapping the bouquet.

“Hello?” 

“Hi boss!” Alya, her PR manager, and incidentally, her best friend greeted. “You are going to LOVE me.”

Marinette shook her head, amused. “You know I already do, what did you do this time?”

“I only went and got you THE Adrien Agreste’s number!” Her friend squealed, making her move her phone away from her ear. 

“You didn’t!” She gasped. “How?”

“Girl, I’ve seen how you drool over his pictures, I needed to do something about it! Nino knows him, it wasn’t very hard to convince him to give me his number.”

Marinette had nursed a crush on the model ever since he’d given her his umbrella at the end of a fashion show, back when she was still an intern working for a big brand. It didn’t hurt that he was one of the most handsome models out there. They’d seen each other again from afar during fashion weeks, their interactions often summarised to a little chit-chat over a glass of Champagne, surrounded by a crowd.

“But what will I even do with it?” She asked, panic seeping through her words. How could she justify getting his number? And what would she say? Would he even know who she was?

“Marinette, I can feel your anxiety from here, breathe.” Alya chuckled. “We’ll work on it.”

“Okay.” Marinette steadied her breathing. “Meet you in ten for lunch?”

Adrien’s heart sank as he heard the words. He’d been about to ask her if she felt like grabbing a bite with him. He grabbed his pen and scribbled a quick ladybug sketch on the back of the business card, along with the words ‘see you again soon!’ and stapled it to the bouquet.

Marinette stole a last look at the flower shop as she exited it after paying, and smiled. She had to admit, Chat Noir’s enumeration had left her dubious. She definitely wouldn't have thought of arranging those flowers together, yet the bouquet was beautiful. She held it out at arms length to examine it, and saw the card. Her mind raced, and she suddenly knew how to end her show. She accelerated her pace to get back to the office before the idea flew away.

Adrien Agreste’s number, wonderful flowers, and a strike of inspiration. The Cat’s fleowers had worked like a lucky charm. 

She had a feeling she hadn’t seen the last of it.

[cagestark]

WIS for Keyz

Happy early birthday to one of my personal angels in the fandom, @starkerkeyz​. I hope your day is half as lovely as you are <3

About this drabble: SFW. WinterIronSpider. Bucky and Peter coax Tony out of the lab and pamper him.

-

“Hey handsome,” Bucky murmurs, his breath a warm plume against the back of Tony’s neck. His body doesn’t even shiver though, not with the complex circuitry in front of him. Reaching up, he taps at the goggles he wears until the lenses zoom in. “Can I get a ETA on when to expect you upstairs again?”

“Give me another hour,” Tony murmurs, barely moving his mouth, diverting his very breath away from the circuit board in front of him. There’s something wrong, something with the capacitors not holding charge efficiently. Sighing, he reaches out for the soldering iron and presses it against the solder joint, slipping into his work more seamless than another man might slip into sleep.

Bucky clears his throat. Tony glances up and sees that Peter is beside him, more than half a head shorter, though their twin expressions of disapproval make them look remarkably similar. I’ve messed up, Tony thinks. What’d I do?

“The hour will go by faster if you don’t interrupt me, lights of my life,” he mutters, eyes slipping back down to the circuit board.

“The hour went by, Tony. It went by an hour ago,” Peter says.

Tony blinks. He glances at the digital clock displayed by his work station, but he has no context for it, no idea when Bucky last came down into the lab, no idea even whether the time on the clock is AM or PM. All at once he feels the aching hollowness of his stomach, the greasy heaviness of his unwashed hair.

“How long have I been down here?” Tony wonders.

“Since Thursday, boss,” FRIDAY says. Unhelpful, considering Tony isn’t even sure of the day at this point.

“Too long,” Bucky translates. “Up you get. Don’t make me manhandle you.”

Manhandling sounds—well, Tony would hardly mind. He plays up that lasciviousness, leaning heavily on his stronger lovers to disguise how his knees ache from being bent for so long, how his head goes foggy from low blood pressure.

There’s a scent, one that makes his mouth water, throat ache. How he can smell it in the elevator when the penthouse is floors and floors away, he has no clue. When he relaxes his head, nuzzling against Peter’s neck, he smells it there: garlic and marinara.

“Have you been cooking?” Tony asks. “You could have ordered out, kid, charged the card I gave you. No need to expend the effort on my behalf—“

“None of that or I’ll gag you with a piece of garlic bread.”

Tony opens his mouth wide as the elevator doors open. He lets out a groan at the aroma of fresh tomato and basil. There’s wine on the counter, and three glasses—Bucky and Peter are both familiar with Tony’s personal rule that he never drink alone. Considering his lovers don’t care much to drink, this must be a special occasion.

“God, it’s our anniversary, isn’t it,” Tony slurs. “I’m so sorry. I meant to send flowers, four dozen roses or—“

“Our anniversary is in the summer,” Bucky reminds him. Glancing over at the windows, Tony sees the dark, cold evening sky, the swirl of snow. He blinks. Nudging him forward, Bucky leads him away from the dinner. “Bath first. You stink.”

“Can’t smell anything over that garlic bread—bath? Excuse me? What am I, a toddler?”

“I’m thinking about bending you over my knee like one if you don’t start stripping,” Bucky says. His eyes glitter though while he sits on the edge of the porcelain tub (big enough to fit three, Tony knows from pleasurable experience), watching Tony strip off his t-shirt singed with holes. The bath fills with water so hot it steams, and it isn’t until it’s half full that Bucky stands and begins to strip himself.

“Is it that kind of bath then?” Tony wonders. “Because we can skip the foreplay and get straight to the main event. I’m easy like that.”

“Peter,” Bucky calls, loud to be heard over the rushing water. “Bring that garlic bread gag!”

“Okay!” Peter chirps.

Bucky gets in first, leaning his back against the curve of the tub, legs spread wide. It’s clear that he wants Tony to take up space between those thighs. Swallowing hard, Tony enters as carefully as he can, a water-warmed metal hand helping keep him stable as he slips down under the water, groaning at the immediate relief it gives his aching muscles.

“God, that’s good.”

Bucky hums, wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist, coaxing him to lean back against that broad, strong chest. All at once, Tony feels choked up, eyes stinging, throat working to swallow the knot that rests there.

“You don’t have to do all this, you know,” Tony says, struggling to keep his voice even. “A few days down in the lab is nothing. Before you two, I’d become very good at being alone. I can take care of myself.”

“You’re good at taking care of yourself,” Bucky mutters, his voice a warm rumble against Tony’s back. “Now we’ve got to get you good at being taken care of.”

“A tip?” Peter says, three empty glasses held in one hand and a plate of garlic bread in the other. The wine bottle is tucked under his arm. “Just lay back and take it. Here, garlic bread first.”

Tony shakes his hand half-dry and reaches out to take a piece of bread. It’s still warm, crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside, slick with olive oil. He can’t help but groan and lick his fingers clean. Peter seats himself on the floor beside the tub and pours three even glasses, offering one to each of them.

One of Bucky’s hands comes up and begins to work to dampen the hairs at the back of Tony’s head, breath ghosting over his neck and—yes. Now he gets goosebumps. I could get used to this, he thinks.

And, well, practice makes perfect.

“Want to wash my hair?” Tony mumbles, half-asleep.

Peter takes the wine glass from his hand before it can slip free on its own, and Bucky presses a soft kiss in the hollow between Tony’s neck and shoulder. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[daily-tolgirl-smolbean]

January 14, 2020 (Tuesday)

Happy 1st Monthsary! <3

We’re finally a month in on our relationship officially!

Early morning greetings from last night:

It’s been a month huh? We started by meeting on a place where one mishap could have cost us the chance to finally find each other. Got to finally have the chance to start our story from that very first coffee “date”. Got to know each other and realized that yeah, we could be something. Admitted liking each other. Feeling emotions that pushed us to break the barriers and distance between us. Til we fell in love, slowly and all at once. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve also been through a couple of bumps and issues which could have ended what would have been our epic love story. But we persist. And now, it’s been a month since we finally took the risk and bet our hearts on each other. And I couldn’t be any happier. ☺️

The day started with her greeting me a good morning and telling me she’s lucky she has me. But you wanna know the truth? I really am the lucky one. I never knew I’d find someone in this lifetime who would love me, care for me and cherish me the way only she can. What did I ever do to deserve someone like her. Whatever that is, I won’t let this chance go and make sure this would be for keeps. ‘Coz really, this is it huh?

I remember telling her that I think she’s my soulmate. I know i know. It’s pretty cheesy in a sense. But that’s what I believe in. We’ve only been dating for four months and officially together for a month but it feels like I’ve known her my whole life. I even told her about my theory that we’re probably soulmates and lovers through our different lifetimes. I even told her this one story where in one of our past lives, she’s this beautiful haciendera and I’m a peasant working on their fields. She was riding her horse looking through the vast fields when I suddenly stood up, removed my banig hat, swooshed my hair and looked up. And there it was, our eyes meeting. The world stopping. Like a cosmic event waiting to unfold.... hahaha i am so dramatic. I have this full scenario in my head and I’m pretty sure she also liked that idea. Us. Being soulmates in every timelines. In every universe. And in this lifetime, our story is only beginning. ✨

So our day goes by. We started getting busy with our work. We talked about our dinner date. I actually already reserved a table in Wildflour Restaurant near her office a few weeks ago. But she told me she needs to buy something in Greenbelt after work (which I honestly thought were some art supplies she was checking out last week). She’d have to walk back to her office area again if we’re having dinner there as I planned. So I told her we’d just have dinner in GB so she won’t have to walk back. So there’s me panicking looking for restaurants I could reserve. I mean, it’s the weekdays so a reservation probably won’t be necessary but I wanna make sure we have a table and that she won’t have to be hassled by waiting if it’s fully booked. Then I remembered that Wildflour has a branch in BGC (the original one) so I asked her if she wanna have dinner there. She asked me why BGC, and I told her We haven’t been there in a while. And we were also talking about that time I told her I like her which was in BGC. So she said okay. So I scourged over the internet where I could book a reservations and thank god I manage to arrange that fast. Our dinner date’s all set. 👌🏻

Our day went by. We’re chatting while working. I reminded her of the theatre production we’ll be watching in March (Band’s Visit). I have to make sure it’s in her calendar. My baby’s such a busy woman hehe. She also have some great chocolates there which she got from her officemate which she wanna share with me. We’re like this. We always make sure to share everything to each other. Food, events, shows. We really are partners na 😌. Lol we have some kulitans on our chat. I even shared to her about the top 1 trending topic in twitter #FlexKoLangJowaKo hahahaha. I wanted to be makulit and do flex her in twitter if only things aren’t complicated still in my life (re: family). Someday tho, nothing can stop me anymore ✊.

Then.. my surprise to her came in. I sent her a rose. This day won’t be complete without making sure she knows she deserve all the cheesy(sweet) gestures I can do. Hehehe. I ordered it a few weeks ago and can’t decide what flower to give. In the end, I decided to give her 1 red rose. Which means our 1st month. It’s simple but also something which I know could at least make her smile. 😊 also, we have this banter where I’d have to check in every month if she’s still my girlfriend hahaha like a monthly assessment. And I’m fully embracing this challenge. So i sent in a note with the flower:

Look at her answer above! Hahaha told her “ay, asyumera pala ko haha. Okay lang kahit ano sagot basta yes”. She told me I should be nervous. Hahaha (kinabahan ako ng very light lol). So she thanks me for the flowers. I really am happy she liked it even if it’s just a simple one. I promised her back then that I’ll court her forever if it means we’ll get to spend our lifetime together. And yes honey, I won’t ever get tired of making sure you feel loved and cherished. 💕

Her work ended by 4 pm. So she went to GB to buy her stuff. I’ll be out by 6 pm anyways. Finished my work while she’s booked her grab going to BGC. I don’t wanna be late and make her wait so I booked a motocab. Definitely the fastest way through manila traffic. We have 7 om reservations. I arrived there around 650, got seated at the back and waited for my date.

The place looks amazing with the dim lights, candlelit dinner table and a semi casual feel. I was sitting by the window with my back facing outside. I ordered us some appetizer bread and butter and a salad so she’d have something to eat first when she arrive. I dunno why but I still get nervous when we’re about to meet for our date. Maybe because it’s a special day and I’m feeling a lot of things. I’m a bit on edge while waiting for her.

Suddenly, there was this knocking at the window on my back. And there she is, my love. Standing outside waiving at me while smiling her timid smile. My nervous energy turned into an excited energy. I’m like a kid who just got her present again. So I smiled happily at her and told her to get inside. She went around, arrived in front of me, I stood up and hugged her. She sat in front of me. Now I’m calm and content, she’s finally here. 😌

The waiter came back and gave us the menu. I told her to order anything she wants. Told her I love the apple pie here, she smiled and told me we could order it later. So I smiled like a kid. :) the bread and butter’s served. So she ordered the salmon while I ordered a pasta (she hates pasta while I love pasta lol). She also got a tomato soup which we shared. So we got to catching up on how our day went by while munching on some good baguette and some nice olive and basil butter. The salad came in and we continued eating.

We talked about how’s things at the office. Most people are still wfh due to the taal thing. She told me how busy the whole week would be so I told her she can do it and don’t stress herself too much. My baby’s really dedicated to doing her job so I just wanna make sure she’s taken care of. We also talked about our friends. We talked about us. We continued eating while food are now being served. She got me a bowl of her tomato soup. She got her salmon, I got my pasta. I told her the times I’ve been there and why I liked it there. It’s one of my fav restaurants and I’ve always wanted to bring her there.

One thing she really likes is taking care of me. So she got me a spoon of her salmon and spoon fed it to me. She has this shy smile on her face. I asked her if she likes feeding me. She said yes. So I smiled. I liked it too. ☺️ it’s really sweet of her (also I’m lazy so being spoon fed is a plus hahaha). We continued eating and kulitan. I kept telling her i love her which always makes her smile. We talked about yehessss we’re now 1 month na. And it still feels surreal how it’s only been a month. We really are on the same page when we talk of our feelings. We were teasing each other about “ibahay mo na ako”, “pakasalan mo na ako”, “magtanan na tayo”. Hahhha i’m serious tho, I would do all of that someday.

We also talked about our dream destinations. I wanna know the places she’d want to go to so I can plan it someday. I told her where I wanna go to. Her number one’s Japan, next is Thailand. London too maybe ‘coz her brother’s there. I told her my number one’s NYC and the second one’s Paris. Even if I’ve been there, I wanna go there next time as a romantic trip. I told her I want her to go to NYC with me and watch broadway shows with me. I’d want her to be the one I go back to Paris with. I wanna bring her to Japan (for sure) and that we’ll go to Thailand and London too. But then I thought, if she were to ask me where I’d wanna be in the world, I would have told her I’ll always wanna be wherever she is.

The whole dinner has been amazing. The place is nice, the food is good and my date’s amazing. So we finished our food and I ordered the apple pie and a cup of coffee. I think she also liked the pie which makes me happy. This time though, she took my teaspoon to make sure she’ll spoon fed me the desert the whole time. Well then, no objections from here ma’am. Hahaha We really are that couple people wanted to stir aways from ‘coz of the overflowing sweetness huh. :p

It’s gift time now! I took out a fat envelope and gave it to her. She asked me what it is. I told her it’s money for the drug deal. Hahaha just kidding. It’s a card with a gift inside that’s why it’s bulky. Before she opened it, she got something from her bag. Apparently she has a gift for me!!!! That I didn’t expect actually. I didn’t realized what she’s buying in the mall was her gift for me. I only had a bit of a clue when she was at the mall ‘coz she won’t tell me what she’s buying. I was so excited my hands are already about to claw the wrapper the moment I got it. So she laughed at me and told me I’m way too excited. I got a bit shy so I put the gift on my lap (but my nails are continuously scraping over the tape mehehe) She guessed what I was doing haha. She asked me if we should open the gifts now. I said yes of course! The child in me is always excited for gifts, especially the wrapped ones. She knew this. That’s why she insisted on wrapping her gift while she was at the car. God! This girl knows me so well she does things she’s not used to just to make me happy 🥺 I stared at her and all I was thinking was, I love you. 🥺

We opened the gifts. I got her a card with a sweet message. I wrote a few things too. I also drew her face with cat ears & 1 candle on the head. plus it’s a balloon head which a stick figure me was holding mehehe. I also got her a cat luggage tag. It’s why I asked her where she wanna travel to someday. It means I can’t wait for the future where we’ll always be together going on adventures. May it be around the world or just around the corner. As long as we’re together. I think she like that cat design so I’m glad I got it for her.

As to her gift for me, it was the Captain America tumblr we saw in Typo last week. I really wanted it but it’s too pricey! So I was shocked. She shouldn’t have spent that much on me but god, it’s so beautiful 😲 She spoils me. I was so happy with the tumbler huhu. I really needed a new one too. This girl is amazing 😩 I thought it was my birthday hahhaha. I told her she doesn’t need to buy me present every month, she told me okay and it’s just that, this first month is special. My heart ❤️

We finished up our pie and coffee (her spoon feeding me the whole time hehe), and asked for the bill. And as usual, my smol bean kept on insisting we pay half each. I told her we talked about this and that it’s on me. I know paying for the date is like outdated or something but I also like being able to treat her and take care of her once in a while. Plus it’s our first month and I want this date to be special for her. So she gave in. I just promised her I’ll let her pay on like, out 3rd monthsary lol.

We got the bill, I paid and we got out. I carried her bag while she carried mine. For such a smol bean, she always has her big back pack. We walked through BGC hand in hand with no destination in mind. We just kept walking til we reach the One Bonifacio High Street Park. I remembered that one chubby catto who’s like my soul animal. So we walked though there to check on him. Lo and behold, there’s lots of cattos there! Hahaha my smol bean’s such a fan of cats. So we decided to sit on the bench and watch them. She took pictures and kept getting their attention. I like watching her like this, so excited with the things she loves. Like me and cats 😉 There were 3 gray cats who looks like a gang, on of them is chill dude cat my spirit animal, and another ginger cat. They’re pretty entertaining to watch. I made up scenarios on what’s happening. It entertained us for a while.

There was a bit of a thing that dampen the night. So we got to talking about serious stuff. I reassured her of my feeling, my loyalty and my commitment with her. So we were silent and solemn for a while. She really shouldn’t be afraid and bothered of other people. ‘Coz in my world, she’s the only one I see. My priority aside from my family. Everyone else comes second. I promise this to her, we fixed the mishap and just snuggled there in the middle of the park.

We got to talking. She didn’t have the time to write message with her gift. So she wanted to tell me what she wanna wrote. She told me she loves me and that there was only one thing on her mind that she wanted to do. And that is to take care of me. She wants to always take care of me. With everything. From cleaning me up because of my messy eating habits, to taking care of me when i get hurt from being clumsy, to making sure i’m also emotionally okay. My heart beat so heard when she told me that. I felt the intensity of her feeling and how much she loves me. She doesn’t see my faults as something she’d hate but see it as an opportunity for her to make me feel loved. I was kind of speechless. And really touched. And made me fee how really really lucky I am to have found her. 🥺💖

So I was talking seriously with her about what she told me when suddenly, chill dude cat suddenly walked in front of us. Our eyes connected for a while and I told him what’s up. Does he have a problem? I was just kidding of course. Smol bean told me chill dude probably felt threatened with me. So I didn’t think much of it and got back to talking with smol bean. But suddenly, he was besides us. Hmmmm a bit suspicious. Is he gonna attack me? I didn’t mean what I said to him. So I just ignored him again. Another minute passed and suddenly he’s on my side, trying to slink his way into my lap! Apparently, that eye to eye contact between us was a connection built. He probably realized that we really are connected somehow. Last time i saw him was like 3 months ago and I felt connected to him even when he was ignoring me. Wat

So yeah, there he is on my lap, trying to find the perfect position to burrow on my warmth. I was exasperated for a while ‘coz I was having a serious talk with smol bean and that’s when he decided to get my attention when I’ve been trying to get his all night. What a bitch move. But man..... I also melted when his head booped my arms and hid his face on my body. 🥺🥺🥺 huhuhu i felt mushy. And smol bean’s cooing so much. She’s so happy and kinikilig with what she’s witnessing. Two stubborn headed lazy creatures connecting. Smol bean joked that chill dude just highjacked her thunder. She was telling me her monthsary messaged di ba. Ahhahahaa i feel so elated at that moment. There’s the three of us, snuggling in the middle of the park, like a little family. I feel happy, content and warm. 💗

Too bad we had to go home. It’s getting late and smol bean has to rest na for early morning work tomorrow. I didn’t wanna remove him but we really had to start now before our grab arrive. So I slowly stood up and he slid down to the bench. He tried to hold on but yeah, he sat back down in the end. And my chill dude being chill as ever just sat there like the lazy creature he is hahahaha. We’re watching him while waiting for our grab and it’s taking a while so we sat beside him. I touched his head and pet him. He looked at me..... and went back to burrowing on my lap again. Hahahahahaha damn it, we’re back to square one. But i let him for a while. I like it too anyways. So we stayed like that til our ride arrive and i had no choice but to leave him. We left him on that bench, chill as ever. To my chill dude cat, rock on man 🤘

We got on to our ride where there’s a big doggo besides the car door. He’s a security dobberman. Looks like he’s bigger than smol bean so smol bean’s kinda scared and was trying to pull me away from him. I think he was nice though. So the driver and I chuckled over smol bean’s antics hehe. We rode our way to Makati so I can drop off smol bean. We’re holding hands and cuddling and stealing kisses from each other. The whole night was amazing and i think we’re both thinking how we wish we don’t have to be apart again. But for now, we have to go on separate homes.

We got to her dorm and we sat at our usual spot. I booked my grab but she told me she doesn’t wanna let go of me just yet. And honestly, i feel the same. So i cancelled my ride and stayed with her for a while. Flirting and kulitan 😜

But it’s getting really late and she has to rest soon. She sigh and said okay. She insisted on booking me a ride so i let her. My ride arrived, she walked me to the car, i hugged her, kissed her and told her goodbye.

She message me to take care on my way home, she’s watching over me while prepping for bed. She was composing her monthsary letter for me too. What a sweetie 🥰 I got home, got ready for bed and she sent her letter to me...

And it’s everything I wanted from her. She promised to love me, take care of me, and that she won’t hurt me. She’ll love me the way I deserve. She thanks me for the love and happiness I give her. And that she’ll always want to be by my side. 🥺🥰

—-

PS: I love this woman. I love my smol bean. I love you very very much. ❤️

[emospritelet]

Kiss of Life - Final chapter

So, after months of poor Dr Gold being socially awkward and emotionally constipated he finally (with the help of his friends) got his girl.  It seems fitting to leave them in their happy place.  Thanks to everyone who followed and commented and sent asks to these idiots!  This is the end.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] {Part 22] [Part 23] [Part 24] [Part 25] [Part 26] [Part 27] [Part 28]

AO3 link

Belle coughed, her eyes watering as she choked on the dust and what felt like the desiccated remains of a hundred insects, swept from the top of the stacks. She blinked rapidly, rubbing streaming eyes as she told herself to get higher on the ladder before trying to clean.  Pushing herself up the rungs of the wheeled ladder, she tucked a dust-covered lock of hair behind her ear and coughed again as she looked over the top of the bookshelves.

After almost a full day’s cleaning, the library was looking much better.  The books had been taken down and sorted into piles depending on whether they were staying or going, and she had made spreadsheet catalogue of everything she was keeping.  She needed to start making a list of the titles she wanted to procure, as well, but that could wait.  The Mayor’s allowance would have to be used wisely.

All the stacks bar the one she was standing on had been cleaned, the windows washed, light bulbs replaced and the blinds taken down and scrubbed.  The library was brighter and lighter, almost free from dust (she still had to mop the floor once she’d finished with the stacks) and smelling of orange oil and Windex.  The circulation desk was clear, awaiting the new computer system she had been promised, along with a new chair and the children’s supplies she had ordered.

She finished cleaning the shelving, rubbing vigorously to ensure the last speck of dust was removed, and heard a faint creak from the library door, followed by a rhythmic tapping.  Smiling to herself, she kept her back to the noise.  She had a fairly good idea who was making it.

“Well, there’s a lovely sight.”

Gold’s voice floated upwards, and Belle grinned, turning a little so that she could eye him over her shoulder.  He was smiling up at her, hands folded over the handle of his cane, in the black suit and red shirt combination she liked so much.

“I could say the same about you,” she said.  “What are you doing here?”

“We had a date, remember?”

“At seven,” she reminded him.

“It is seven,” he said gently.

“It is?”  Belle groaned.  “No wonder my feet hurt!  I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.”

“No matter,” he said.  “It’s not as though we made a reservation anywhere.”

He held up a hand, and she turned to take it, using him for balance as she stepped down to the floor.  She dropped the dirty rag into a bucket of murky water and wiped her hands on her overalls before stretching up on her toes to kiss him and then dropping back onto her heels.

“Sorry, I’m a disgusting, dirty mess,” she said.

“You look beautiful.”

“I bet I have dust on my nose,” she said, and he grinned, his eyes twinkling.

“Well, that’s true, but you’re still beautiful.”

“Flatterer.”  She slipped her arms around his waist, letting out a contented sigh.  “Want to come upstairs and check the apartment out with me?  I could do with taking a shower.”

“Why don’t I let you do that?” he suggested.  “I seem to remember you telling me that the apartment is somewhat lacking in furniture.”

“Nothing but a rickety old kitchen table and chairs,” she confirmed ruefully.  “I need to get that sorted.  Ruby said she’d drive me out to the next town to pick up a bed on Monday.”

“Does the shower work?”

“Yeah, there’s nothing wrong with the hot water,” she said.  “The whole thing needs a good clean and a lick of paint and a little TLC, but it’ll be nice and cosy when I’m done.”

“And do you have something to change into?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Brought over a bunch of my stuff this morning,” she said.  “I figured I might as well start moving in.  It’ll encourage me to clean the place up.”

“In that case, I’ll wait down here,” he said.  “I’ll see if I can rustle up some dinner for us.”

“Good, I’m starving!”

She kissed him again, and trotted off to the door that led to the staircase up to her apartment.  The place looked somewhat forlorn, the single bedroom empty of anything but the suitcase she had brought over, a fine layer of dust and two dead flies on the windowsill.  Belle was certain that she could make it into a home, and was excited by the prospect.  She took a towel, toiletries and a clean outfit into the bathroom, and turned on the shower.  At least she had thought to clean the bathroom, so she had somewhere clean to get changed.  She would have to return to her father’s that evening, though; she didn’t have the energy to clean any more of the rooms, and she had nothing to sleep on in any case.

The water was pleasantly hot, a decent amount of pressure coming out, and she spent some time in the shower, scrubbing the dust and grime from herself and washing her hair.  Once out, she dried off and dressed in a little woollen dress in dark green over tights and comfortable boots.  A small cardigan kept the chill from her, and she brushed out her hair and applied a little lipstick before heading back down the stairs.  The gentle sound of music was floating up from the library, something classical and soothing that made her smile.

“Sorry I took so long,” she said, as she rounded the corner into the library.  “I was—”

She cut off, mouth falling open.  The library blinds had been drawn, the light dim except for thick candles flickering on the circulation desk and around a thick blanket, set with cushions.  Gold was standing next to it, looking by turns nervous and self-satisfied, his jacket draped over the desk to reveal his waistcoat and the red silk shirt beneath.  There was a vase of flowers, red roses and lush greenery, and an ice bucket with an open bottle of champagne sticking out of it.  She could smell something savoury, garlic and herbs and wine, and she caught his eye with a grin.

“A picnic?” she said, and he shrugged.

“We did have a date, after all.”

Belle smiled broadly, and wandered over to the blanket, settling herself down on the cushions.

“How did you manage to arrange all this?” she asked.

“Well, Dorothy and Jefferson helped me carry everything to the car,” he said, getting down beside her.  “As for the food, I arranged for that to be delivered.  Fresh pasta from Marco’s.  I hope that’s alright.”

“Delicious.”

She settled back with a sigh as he went about preparing their meal, opening up dishes and setting them down between them.  The savoury scents were stronger, and Belle sniffed eagerly.

“Baked rigatoni, and ravioli with a squash and sage filling,” he said.  “There’s a little basil pesto on that one.  Help yourself.  There’s garlic bread, too.”

Belle took a fork and dug in, watching as melted cheese stretched and snapped before taking a mouthful of the rigatoni.  Rich ragu sauce made her mouth water, and she made a contented noise as she chewed.  Gold grinned, and reached behind him for some champagne flutes, pouring them each a glass.  Belle put her fork down to take hers, and he raised his own, holding her gaze.

“To us,” he said quietly, and they clinked glasses before taking a sip.

The champagne was crisp and fruity, foaming on her tongue, and Belle set down her glass and sighed happily.  He was grinning at her, eyes twinkling, and she took up her fork again, this time aiming for the ravioli.

“This is amazing,” she said.  “You’re just the best, really.”

“We should start as we mean to go on, don’t you think?”

“Candlelit pasta picnics in the library?” She winked at him.  “I’m in.”

He grinned, taking a forkful of rigatoni, and there was silence for awhile as they ate.  Belle mopped up pesto sauce with a piece of garlic bread, and then speared a piece of ravioli and popped it into her mouth.  Gold licked oil from his thumb and shifted a little, lounging back against the cushions.  He glanced across at her, raising an eyebrow.

“How is Operation Librarian going, then?”

Belle chuckled, and reached for her champagne, taking a sip.

“I’ve mostly sorted the books into what’s staying and what’s going,” she said. “I need to make a list of the titles I need, and get the equipment in her and set up.  At the moment I’m thinking we should be able to open in a week or so. Providing the computer system works and the books I order arrive.”

“Exciting.”

“It is.”  She dipped bread into the rigatoni sauce, enjoying the pungent taste of garlic and herbs and the richness of tomato sauce and olive oil on her tongue. “I had a talk with the elementary school.  I’m going to run some after-school classes with the kids.  I thought I’d keep the hospital library service going too, only this time I should have more of a selection of books for the patients to choose.”

“Sounds as though you’re really finding your feet,” he said.  “If I can help at all, let me know.”

“I may need kisses and snuggles after my long days,” she said, pouting, and he grinned.

“Consider it done.”

She smiled, and took another sip of wine before digging into the pasta again.

“I told my dad I was moving out, too,” she said.  “He wasn’t happy.”

“Ah.”

Gold’s voice was neutral, and Belle sighed.

“It wasn’t just about you,” she said.  “Although he was a pain in the arse about that, too.  It’s just - I don’t think he wants to be on his own.  He doesn’t seem to get that I might want my own life, that I have things to do other than look after him.”

“He managed when you were at college, I presume.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.  Guess he got used to having me around.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to put your own life on hold, however.”

“Good, because I have no intention of doing so.”

They shared a smile, and Gold reached for his drink.

“Well, here’s to your new life,” he said, raising the glass.  “Belle French, Librarian Extraordinaire.  Keeper of the Secrets of Storybrooke and Bringer of Knowledge.”

“Granter of Library Cards, Protector of the Stock, and Seeker of the Overdue Tomes,” added Belle.

“Long may she reign,” said Gold solemnly, and they clinked glasses as Belle giggled.

They finished off the pasta, and Belle wiped the last piece of garlic bread around one of the dishes, chewing it up before sucking olive oil from her fingers with a contented hum.  Gold was watching her, a tiny smile on his face.

“Done?”

“Done,” she said, with a sigh.  “That was delicious.”

He cleared away the dishes, packing everything into the bag it had arrived in, ready for the trash, and poured them another glass of champagne.  Belle settled back against the cushions, pleasantly full and happy, and he shifted a little, edging closer.  Belle turned on her side, leaning over to kiss him gently.

“This was perfect,” she whispered.  “Thank you.”

Gold reached up, gently brushing a curl back from her cheek, finger trailing along her jawline.

“That was only the first course,” he said, and she groaned.

“I couldn’t eat another thing!”

“All the more for me, then,” he said, with a grin, and she frowned.

“Wait, what is it?”

“Tiramisu,” he said.  “But it can wait, don’t worry.”

“Not too long…”

She leaned in, pressing her mouth to his, and his hand slid around to cup her head, holding her as they kissed, his tongue gently stroking against hers.  He broke the kiss, soft lips parting, and his eyes were gleaming darkly.

“There are other things we could do,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with promise.  “Things I know you’ll like.”

“Hmm.”  She smirked at him.  “Getting you naked one time appears to have improved your confidence.  I like it.”

“Well, it was a very memorable experience,” he said, brushing a thumb over her lower lip.  “Life-changing, in fact.”

“For me, too.”

She kissed him again, more urgently, and he shifted closer, his hand sweeping down her back and tugging her closer before slowly rolling her onto her back. Belle moaned, stroking her fingers through his hair, enjoying the taste of him and the firm weight of his body atop hers.  Gold pulled his mouth from hers, kissing down her neck and making her shiver.

“Fooling around in the library,” he murmured.  “We’ll get in trouble.”

“Don’t worry,” she gasped.  “I’m not expecting either of us to stay silent.”

“Good.”

He kissed lower, hands sliding down her body, cupping her breasts and tracing the curves of her waist and hips before tugging at the dress and pulling it upwards. Belle pushed up a little, shrugging off the cardigan, and he knelt up, tugging the dress over her head and tossing it aside before lowering her back down.  The air was cool on her skin, but his body was warm, his touch welcome, and she let her head roll back against the cushions as he kissed down over her belly, fingers hooking over the waistband of her tights and underwear and pulling them down in one.

It felt strange, lying there in the midst of the candlelit library on a pile of blankets and cushions, practically naked.  Belle closed her eyes, losing herself in the press of his lips and the sweep of his tongue as he pushed her thighs apart, and she rose up with a moan of pleasure as his tongue flickered over her clit.  Gold groaned, hands flat against her thighs, his breath hot against her tender flesh, his tongue soft and wet.

“That’s so good!” she whispered.

He began to lick her in a slow, steady rhythm, sending jolts of pleasure through her with every circling pass of his tongue.  She had curled her fingers in his hair, soft locks wrapped around them, and his tongue flickered and swirled, making her moan, a flush blooming in her cheeks and at the top of her chest.  His hand moved a little, one finger stroking through wet flesh, gently pushing inside her as his tongue swept over her clit.  The feel of it increased the sensations, and she moaned, pushing her hips upward a little to let him slide deeper.  Slowly, he drew out the finger almost all the way before thrusting it in again, and Belle let out a tiny cry, feeling her body grow taut, feeling her climax approach.  He thrust into her again, tongue flickering, and she whimpered, rocking her hips, wanting more of him inside her, wanting all of him.

She sucked in a breath and held it, her pulse pounding in her throat, and exhaled loudly as she came with a loud cry, her body jerking.  Gold groaned again, pulling the finger from her and putting his mouth to her once more, his tongue swirling over her flesh.  She tried to catch her breath, letting an arm fall over her eyes as her chest heaved, and he began kissing his way back up over her belly until he was braced on the palms of his hands.  She let the arm fall to the side, and he was gazing down at her, a smile on his face and a soft look in his eyes.  His mouth and chin glistened with fluid, and she watched as he wiped it off with a swift movement of his palm.

“Well, look who’s overdressed,” she said, a little breathlessly, and reached up to tug at the knot in his tie.

It didn’t take long to get him naked; he remembered to take off his shoes before his pants this time, as he dryly remarked upon.  Belle giggled as she pushed the shirt from his shoulders, his own hands shoving frantically at his underwear.

“Patience, Dr Gold,” she chided.

“Fuck patience,” he growled.  “You taste too good for patience.”

She chuckled, reaching for one of the condoms he had dropped on the blankets, and tore open the packet just as he finally tossed his underwear into the darkness beyond the candles.  Within moments he was pushed up against her, Belle’s hands on his shoulders, her chest heaving as she met his eyes.  He was breathing heavily, and pressed his forehead to hers, a moment of calm.

“I love you,” he whispered, and she nodded.

“I love you too.”

He moved, pushing inside her slowly, and she gasped, knees drawing up, feeling him sink deep, a low groan coming from him as his body pressed against hers, his cock buried within her.  She wrapped her legs around his back, holding him close, feeling the heat from his body, the wetness where they were joined.  He began to move with slow, grinding motions of his hips, tight circles letting him rub against her as he pushed deep inside, and Belle moaned, clinging to him, nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in the skin of his back.  It felt incredible, and she let her hips lift and fall, increasing the friction between them, sending waves of pleasure through her body.

“God, that’s amazing!” she whispered.

He bent his head to kiss her neck, mouth sucking at her pulse point, his tongue sweeping over her skin.  She could smell her own scent on him, her arousal mixed with the musk of his sweat, and she tightened her grip on him, holding him close, pressing kisses to his cheek, his jaw, his throat.  Gold thrust deep with a groaning gasp, his cock hard and rigid inside her.  He quickened his pace, hips pumping, and let out a harsh cry as he came, his cock pulsing.  Belle moaned, pumping her hips against his, the sensations taking her with him in a wave of pleasure and a rush of heat.

He was still moving with short, shallow thrusts, and she kissed along his jaw, nipping at his chin.  His mouth found hers, and his movements slowed and stopped as he kissed her, a deep rumble of contentment vibrating through them.  Gold let their lips part, breathing hard, his nose just brushing hers, and Belle smiled happily.

“Well,” she murmured.  “That was wonderful.”

He grinned, kissing her again, and shifted a little, pushing himself up on his elbows, fingers idly stroking her hair as their breathing eased.  Belle glanced around, noting that one of the candles had gone out.  Bookshelves were square blocks of shadow beyond them, thin strips of yellowish light coming in through the blinds from the streetlights outside.

“I wonder if that’s the first action the library has seen,” she said, and Gold chuckled.

“With any luck it won’t be the last.”

“Not if this librarian has anything to say about it, that’s for sure.”

His grin widened, specks of gold gleaming in his eyes, his skin warm in the candlelight.  There was a softness in his gaze, a look of tender devotion that made her heart thump a little harder, and his finger trailed across her cheek, tracing its curve.

“Move in with me,” he murmured, and Belle blinked.

“What?”

He smiled.

“Move in with me.”

She opened and closed her mouth, her heart thumping.

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”  

“Wow,” she remarked flatly.  “So it takes you months to work up the courage to ask me out, and now you have there’s no stopping you, hmm?  What happened to Mr I Overthink Everything?”

He shrugged.

“Maybe it feels right to ask precisely because I spent so long overthinking everything.”

“So you’ve thought about this a lot, then?”

“I have.”  He kissed her forehead.  “My house needs you in it.  I knew it the moment I woke up with you.  Actually, fuck it, I knew the moment you left after having the flu, I just didn’t want to admit it.  I love you, and I want to wake up beside you and make you breakfast and snuggle up with a book every night.”

Belle smiled, her heart swelling with love for him, and stroked his cheek with a gentle finger, brushing a lock of his hair away before it flopped back.

“Tell me more,” she whispered.

“I want to buy groceries together and cook while we drink wine and sing along to music,” he said.  “I want to dance with you in the kitchen and take bubble baths and drink tea on the back porch while we watch the snow fall.”

“You didn’t even get to the hot sex part and I’m sold.”

He grinned at that, leaning in a little.

“Oh, there’ll be plenty of hot sex,” he growled, and Belle giggled.

“Well, since you’re so full of surprises and clearly have no intention of taking things slow, are you planning on proposing any time soon?” she asked, with a wry grin.  “Be nice to have a little warning, if so.”

“That was my plan for Tuesday,” he said gravely, and she giggled again, stroking her fingers through his hair.

“Okay, now I know you’re not serious.”

“Well, not about that,” he admitted.  “Not yet, anyway.  But I do think it makes complete sense for you to move in.”

“You sound sure of yourself,” she teased.

“Yes.”  He kissed her nose, and then winced.  “But not that sure, so please put me out of the misery of this budding anxiety attack.  Will you move in with me?”

This time she kissed him, a generous, open-mouthed kiss that took a little time to wind down.  Belle pulled back, smiling up at him.

“I’d love to,” she whispered.  “But can you wait a few months?”

He blinked.

“Of course,” he said.  “We can wait as long as you like.  What is it?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly.  “It’s just - well, I went from my dad’s place to college, and then from college back to my dad’s, and if I come straight to you - well, I’d kind of like to prove I can make it on my own first, you know?”

“I understand,” he said gently.  “I’ll even help you decorate this place, if you like.”

“And risk getting paint on one of your suits?” she said, tutting.  Gold grinned.

“I was thinking we could wear painting overalls,” he said.  “Or just do it naked, that could be fun.”

“We could get a canvas and throw paint at each other and roll around on it,” she said.  “Create a background art piece for the next nude calendar you do.”

She giggled as he tickled her, and kissed him again.

“I love you,” she whispered.  “I really do.”

“Well, I love you too,” he said.  “How long are you gonna make me wait?”

“Hmm…” She pursed her lips.  “Let’s say first of May.  That seems an excellent time, wouldn’t you agree?”

He smiled, a sudden flash of sadness in his eyes.

“Neal’s birthday,” he whispered, and Belle bit her lip.

“Oh,” she said.  “Oh, I didn’t realise.  Well, we can pick another day, if you—”

“No,” he said quickly.  “No, it’s perfect.  The two best things in my life, coming to me on the same date.  It’s perfect.”

He kissed her again, lips gently pulling at hers, and Belle thought as though she would burst with happiness.  She settled back against the cushions with a sigh, reaching up to cup his face with her palm.

“So, this is it,” she said.  “The doctor and the librarian, making a life together.”

“Against all the odds,” he added.  “The misunderstandings, the insecurities…”

“The doctor putting his foot firmly in his mouth every five minutes…”

“We got there in the end,” she said.  “And I love you.”

“Yes.”  He kissed her nose.  “And I love you too.”

She reached up, lips finding his, gently pushing them apart so that her tongue could slide inside.  Gold rolled onto his side, his arms going around her and hugging her close as the candles sent out their flickering light into the dark of the library.

[sussex-nature-lover]

Saturday 31st July 2021

Unseasonal Weather

I’m starting to write this on Friday, which so far is very dark, dull, wet and windy. In fact on Thursday, Sky news had this headline

Storm Evert: First named summer storm of 2021 to hit UK tonight

Severe gales and winds reaching up to 75mph in the most exposed parts of Cornwall could cause damage and disruption, with forecasters warning of "unseasonably strong winds and heavy rain".

Not our locaility, but we seem to have something of it too. What a shame, just as the long summer school holidays started and all the festivals and camps which had been postponed from last year have been rescheduled. Ms NW tY did so well to get her Cornish break in good time, but our near neighbour K and family must be so fed up that it’s not held out for them the same.

Speaking of them, I had anticipated Inspector Pritchard’s presence here while they’re away but he must’ve taken to their house-sitter as we haven’t seen too much of him. He is, however, responsible for a WHAT DID I LEARN TODAY? True Fact

Apparently Peacocks like Basil - well, this one does!

I’m very suprised by that as my Basil has a very strong aroma indeed. He’s polished off every last little bit of lettuce leaf and now he’s spotted the herb that I had potted up outside and just put down inside the kitchen door.

‘hhhm is this something else for me?’

A couple of pecks and it was pronounced satisfactory, so we had to pluck some and let him finish the job. He also enjoyed the remains of a packet of rocket leaves which were not needed (well, half not needed and half ‘sacrificed’ to him)

and yes, that is The Hundred cricket you can see on the TV. Some photos were taken a few days back.

We gave him a few more leaves last night. He really enjoys them.

ANOTHER TRUE FACT, according to my findings anyway, is that Oli the Fox Cub is very partial to cooked sweetcorn on the cob. I reported this the other day, but it wasn’t a one off. He’s very funny as he really does think he’s struck gold and sometimes eats where he is, but sometimes runs off with his spoils. He’s clearly unnerved by Pritchard. We saw him looking anxious and then hiding in the shrubbery just before the Inspector rocked up.

Oh, yes, that’s what I was going to say

WHAT ELSE DID I LEARN?

Foxes (this individual being the entire study sample) like Watermelon too. Guess how I know that? 😁

watermelon had been removed to a safer location

So there we are, three new delicacies at the garden café for our satisfied clientele. 

UPCOMING IN THE GARDEN:

Looks like the Hybiscus is ready to leap into action next month. It’s usually covered in flowers - stand by.

And despite the storms, the bug house has been put in situ facing East in a sheltered spot. Ms NY tE will recognise where from the below.

We’ve taken down a bird house that hasn’t been used for years. To be honest since the Sparrowhawk has been visiting, it just wasn’t in a good location at all being in full view of the fence. And speaking of Sid Viscious, I have sad news that we fear Daisy Waldron has perished. There’s a pile of suspicious looking feathers on the lawn at the base of the Wisteria and so far as we can tell, noone sitting on the nest any more. The nest has at least one egg in it from what I can see. Sad times.

PS there was a Wood Pigeon up on the roof by the bedroom window yesterday and as I’ve read out this blog to Crow he said ‘are we sure it’s Daisy because that pigeon on the roof looked just like her...’ bless him.

in loving memory

More nature photos on my other Tumblr Page HERE

[exileseverafter]

Chapter 10

The Science of Diplomacy

“My ancestors could create feathers out of spun sugar and reproduce paintings with glaze on canvases of cake. We made pastries filled with gryphon’s milk cream and candies shaped like jewels made from the juice of pomegranates.”

“Cats, really. Why do humans keep them around? There has to be a less monstrous thing they can use to keep rats from getting to the grain stores.” Philomene had discovered to her relief that the cats had at least done at most minor damage to her laboratory dollhouse. One of the windows had been knocked in and the water the bean had been soaking in was now dripping onto the floor, a casualty of the impact of cat on house. But everything else was largely unchanged. Apparently the cats had just used the house as a thing to sit on rather than a toy to be explored and knocked over. If she was being honest with herself, she might not have been able to tell if anything knew had been tossed around. She recognized most of the little boxes, trinkets and cast-off aprons on the floor. All things she made a mental note to organize properly when she wasn’t quite so busy. Unfortunately, the entire place smelled unmistakably of cat. Opening the windows helped to air it out a little, but not enough to make it very bearable. By the time Marjorie was awake to take her to Ezra, she had taken to sitting on the surface of the table and hanging a few dresses out there for good measure. The last thing she wanted was to go about with the fragrance of mangy feline. “You’ll be alright, then?” Marjorie held Philomene cupped in her hands as she carried the princess into the kitchen. “I mean, I understand it’s a one-on-one talk. Which is perfectly fine! Diplomacy and all that. Oh, and the prince went home, so don’t worry about him being nosy.” “He went home? But it was so late last night…” “You sound like Ezra.” Marjorie shrugged. “His bear came to get him and took him home. I’d worry about going through the forest at that hour of night if one doesn’t have one’s own private bear.” Secretly Philomene was a little more relieved that the bear wasn’t present. She didn’t mind Basil, though she did want to have a private talk with Ezra for a reason. “And I will be perfectly fine. You said Ezra is gentle! We’re indoors, and the Toad isn’t going to try anything while I’m in the same room as a giant cook who probably knows how to make fried frogs’ legs.” After a few more minutes of reassurances, Marjorie set Philomene back on the table and retreated to the bedroom. Ezra hadn’t noticed; he was poring over an enormous old book with yellowed, tattered pages, and looked to be half asleep himself. Philomene realized a bit too late that she should have had Marjorie alert him. A few taps of her cane did nothing, and poking him seemed rude and possibly dangerous. She sat down, cleared her throat and shouted. “Excuse me, Mr. Kettle!” There was no reaction from the giant. He was still absorbed in his book. She had to stand a considerable distance just to see him as a humanoid shape; any closer and he’d be a looming tower of flesh and blood in need of a haircut. Already she could make out every wrinkle and stitch on the patches in his clothing and see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Flower Folk had to be observant of everything around them. The world was full of snakes, large insects, birds and cats. The humans of Thumbelina were allowed to reside there by an ancient pact that required them to be careful underfoot and not abuse their size advantage, but even the most well-meaning ones could be very dangerous. A Sky giant was on a completely different level. Should Ezra so much as sneeze he could grievously harm Philomene. No wonder her people’s interactions with the Sky Islands were usually the duty of human diplomats writing letters to be delivered by bird, and incredibly rare at that. ‘Such is the duty of a princess,’ she reminded herself as she walked over to the edge of the book. She waited until he was about to turn the page and then stuck her cane on top of it, clearing her throat. That seemed to startle him as his gold eyes finally settled on her, widening. “OH, PRIN-cess.” He was courteous enough to adjust the volume of his voice right away so it merely rumbled instead of boomed, sitting up and lowering his head in a sort of bow. “Forgive any rudeness. I didn’t see you there…” “Please forgive any rudeness on my part as well!” She hoped she’d be able to keep up this shouting. Marjorie had been kind enough to tell the story of Thumbelina Kingdom the previous night in part because her voice carried better. “Is now a good time for a talk? I realize you are likely a little busy…” “With work, yes.” Ezra’s hand rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, no! Now is a perfect time. Give me a chance to take a break from this.” She could tell from how quickly he spoke that it wasn’t completely true and he didn’t want to be rude. Just let me set this book aside.” He opened a calloused hand that could have comfortably held half the Flower Folk in the Royal Court and she eased herself carefully into I as he held her up to eye level. He was squinting at her, his other hand supporting his chin. “Is this quite alright? I just prefer to be able to make eye contact when speaking, so I imagine…” Of course he wouldn’t be able to make eye contact with her. The size difference was too great. That must have meant he was doing this for her benefit, so she could look directly at him while she addressed him. She would have to reward such thoughtfulness, and made a note to do so. “Thank you, Ezra! Please don’t mind if I sit.” There was a moment in which he was clearly waiting for her to start, and she had to rehearse her words to remember just how she was going to bring it up. ‘I should have paid better attention during diplomacy lessons.’ As it was up to her, she cleared her throat. “First of all, thank you again for your continued hospitality. My servant tells me that you’re not here on the land of your own free will, and right now this is the only shelter afforded you. It’s very generous of you to let us stay here, especially as you’ve let Marjorie have that oddly well-furnished room.” “Really, it’s nothing! I’m used to sleeping sitting up,” Ezra said. “And this is where I work, at least until I can return to the sky. That bedroom looked like it had been set aside for a lover or something anyway.” Realizing he might have blurted something untoward, he turned red in the cheeks. “I mean G. Chulainn’s lover! Maybe. No offense to Marjorie, but I don’t see her that way at all. And honestly, there’s no reason it should have been in the condition you found it in. It might have been enchanted, and I’d rather stay away from enchantments.” Philomene figured she’d best continue before Ezra made more excuses for his own kindness lest someone notice it was there. “Actually, I need to ask for a little more help. Do you mind if I ask you about your family?” His eyes widened and he sat up a bit straighter. “The Kettles? You’ve heard of us down there? By which I mean down in the mountain cities, not down as in height. You know what I mean.” She chuckled. “You’re the one nervous around me? It’s alright, Ezra. You can relax. And yes, here and there are records of human gentry ordering cakes and desserts fashioned by a member of the Kettle family. I doubt any of your line were able to bake for Flower Folk, of course, just by virtue of scale.” Ezra glanced aside. “Well, we can try,” he said quietly. “Would you like to request something, Princess? I was able to buy a magnifying glass at the market last night. It’s a bit small itself but I can manage. Really!” She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary, though if I’m ever in need I will be sure to commission you.” The image of great Ezra leaning over a table, carefully decorating a cake for Flower Folk, amused Philomene so that she found herself grateful the distance likely kept him from noticing her covering her mouth and stifling a laugh. “No, I just need to know more about your line. I know it sounds abrupt, but I do have my reasons. Just before I can tell you, I have to know if I’m thinking of the right Kettles.” “You want to know about us? Well.” Ezra held his head a little bit higher, oddly imitating the poise and pride of a highborn noble. Then again, why wouldn’t an artisan family hold themselves in esteem? “For generations we developed new cooking and baking techniques, working our very heart and soul into our craft until we were known not only throughout Mielle but across Vox itself and the other Sky Islands. My ancestors could create feathers out of spun sugar and reproduce paintings with glaze on canvases of cake. We made pastries filled with gryphon’s milk cream and candies shaped like jewels made from the juice of pomegranates.” “Those ingredients sound expensive…” “Oh, they were! Terribly so. But our work merited a high price, and we were able to afford luxuries like that even with the high price of goods in the Sky. Which is ridiculous, might I add! Having seen what that Market charged by comparison, I-am getting off topic, sorry. And I hope this doesn’t sound too arrogant. But it’s all true, at least as far as I’ve known.” He played with the pages of the book with his free hand. “And we still have most of our recipes. At least the very old ones. Or, well, what’s in these books…” “I see.” This didn’t sound like the work Ketyl had written about, but it couldn’t have been a mere coincidence. Philomene decided to probe a little further. “And you have always created luxuries?” “Not always. We’ve always baked and cooked, with at least one member of every generation taking up the mantle. Often two. But we used to do more modest work to get by, according to stories my mother told me. That would have been a long time ago, grandparents of grandparents at least and probably moreso.” Ezra frowned. “Of course, I’ve only ever done modest work. I hope it doesn’t disappoint you, Princess, but Kettle is a fallen name by now. The cost of goods went up too high, our craft fell out of favor. We went into debt just to keep ourselves afloat. Then there were family splits and other disgraces.” From the distant look on his face, he apparently didn’t want to go into detail. “In recent generations especially. As far as I know now I’m the last one.” “And you can bake with Kettle techniques?” That was key. “I…” Ezra bit his lip, eyes shifting like a scolded dog. “I know the pastry crust recipe. Pancakes. Not much else. By the time I was old enough to learn my mother was in no condition to teach me, and Father was already gone. After she passed I was sent out of ‘charity’ to work my family debts off under someone who had a distinct interest in keeping me from learning Kettle baking, and I never had time to study the old recipe books I inherited. Like this one.” He took a deep breath. “But it’s quite alright! I have more time now, and an audience! Someone wants me to learn how to bake like the old times, so I’m teaching myself. Someone very important, someone…whose name keeps eluding me. I must have been tired by that point.” That Ezra could not remember someone who had planted such a strong idea in his head worried Philomene, but she couldn’t let herself be sidetracked. That he was not trained in Kettle techniques at all was less than ideal, but he was willing to learn. She stood up for a moment. “Do you mind letting me see that book? From a safe perch, of course.” Ezra seemed to hesitate, glancing between the book and Philomene. “I won’t spill any secrets,” she added. “Promise. And you needn’t worry about me being competition. I cannot cook at all.” At that he relented, holding his hand over the book and letting her look over. She peered down at the sea of old paper, making out swirls of ink that flowed like thin clouds. “Ah!” she cried out. “Skyscript! Old Skyscript, in fact.” She looked over her shoulder back at Ezra. “Is that the problem, translating it into the modern way of writing?” “Not exactly. We all had to learn a little Old Skyscript for Sun festival services. Do you mind if I set you down? My hand is falling asleep…” “Oh! Of course, of course.” Philomene let him lower her down and climbed carefully back onto the book, making sure not to wrinkle or tear pages with her shoes. She could already start to read and translate the words in her head, though they were so big she couldn’t decipher full sentences. “I had to learn a number of languages in my studies, Old Skyscript among them. I can help you.” “Can you?” Ezra blinked. “You would? Forgive me for asking, but why? I imagine saving Thumbelina’s a higher priority than my attempts to bring back Kettle cuisine. Especially since this book wouldn’t even have the instructions to make our masterpieces, just various techniques I’ll have to navigate to make my own.” “That’s just it. These are the very old recipes, right? Ezra, did you know baking is a kind of science?” “It…” He stared down at her. “It really isn’t. I mean there are books involved, but no needles or gears…” “Medicine and mechanics are not the only kinds of science. You use yeast to make dough rise, right? And you measure just the right ingredients. It’s all chemistry, and chemistry is absolutely a science.” “So…” Ezra tilted his head. “This is all for the pursuit of ‘science?’” “No. I do have an ulterior motive. You see, I know it sounds ridiculous but I think these books might hold the secret to understanding how Green Magic was turned into a weapon against my people and possibly yours.” She looked up at him with utmost seriousness, in hopes it would make it sound a little less silly. Her response was another incredulous stare. “With baking.” “How to explain…” Philomene tapped her cane. “You see, science and magic aren’t that different, despite what some practitioners of both will claim. One’s more about studying the nature of reality and the other is for tweaking it. And I think that what you inherited is not merely a recipe collection but a book of spells, one of the last records of culinary Hearth Magic as developed by the Sky wizard Ketyl. If that is…!” She hoped she wasn’t letting her excitement get the best of her. “If it is, we might be able to undercover the secret to countering the rampant Green Magic. Using Hearth Magic, you could make soups that bring visions of the future or almond cookies which change hair color. It’s all in the ancient records! Even if most of it is theoretical and hasn’t been proved in practice in a long time. And even if I suspect the techniques were lost when your family started pursuing more higher-class and lucrative interests…” She stopped to catch her breath. “I can help you learn the techniques and observe how it works, and even if we don’t find a counter-spell I can use the data I get from observing magic in action to-to…” It was as if a wall had shut in front of Ezra, all his warmth gone from his face. She worried at first she had angered him and he would retaliate when she was at her most vulnerable, but instead he just stood up, turning away from her. “I’m sorry. There’s no magic involved.” He didn’t sound offended so much as hurt. “…But, there is. I mean, there was.” Philomene couldn’t let a subject drop when it came to her kingdom, even if it was clear to her she likely should. “I didn’t mean to insult your family, Ezra, honestly.” “It’s not that. But we don’t do magic and we never have. Period!” As he shouted the last bit, the table shook under Philomene’s feet. He turned around again, gently easing her off the book before he closed it and lifted it up in both arms, all the while refusing to make eye contact with her. “I’m sorry, Princess, but I have to get back to work. I have a client to impress and only a week to do so, and you’ve seen how much work I have ahead of me. No offense, but I’d rather do it myself.” He almost seemed to be hiding behind his bangs. “I’ll keep an eye out at the market for anything that might help you, but I’m just a baker. I’ll go get Marjorie for you…” As he disappeared from the room, Philomene slumped back down onto the table. Her back was sore from standing that long and guilt prodded at her stomach. How had she managed to step on a nerve so easily? Wouldn’t anyone be thrilled to know they could have that kind of power at their fingertips? And here she had worried he would be too reckless with it. “I’ll have to try again,” she whispered to herself. She could ask Marjorie’s advice, as Marjorie had that way of getting people to do things they wouldn’t have otherwise while believing it was their own idea. But that was trickery, and hadn’t she said promised herself she would avoid deceit? “Client, is it…” Had someone else recognized the name of Kettle and what it really meant, or had Ezra just found a glutton with high class tastes? When had Ketyl’s descendants gone from practicing her magic techniques to more mundane culinary arts? And more importantly, was she barking up the wrong tree? She couldn’t force him to help her. Unless someone was trying to twist Hearth Magic in the same ways Green Magic had been warped. Marjorie came into the room wincing. “Ezra’s in a bad mood, the poor dear. He said he’s off to go fishing, and I’m sure that boy has no idea how to fish.” She bit her thumbnail and held Philomene in her free hand, which felt comparatively snug after the vast plane of Ezra’s hand. “Did it not go well? At least we know he doesn’t have a violent temper, thank goodness.” “It could have gone better.” Philomene sighed. “I’m afraid I might have let my enthusiasm for magic get the best of my diplomacy skills. But I’ve made a decision. When Ezra goes with you to the market next week, I’m coming too.”

[wren-likethe-bird]

Paper Hearts

A stupidly fluffy SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Valentine’s Celebration

Simon

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Meet me in Room 172.

           I refold the note, noticing how the paper has already settled into well-known creases since this morning.  It’s not the first anonymous note I’ve gotten over the past week, but it’s the first time the writer has made a move beyond waxing poetic.

           The Watford halls are sickening today, even to me.  I understand the appeal of decorating for Christmas, but Valentine’s Day?  It just seems a little patronizing to adorn the walls in that many paper hearts, whether the hearts can magically float around people’s heads or not.  And it’s not that I’m a cynic, but Valentine’s Day this year was set to be a difficult one for me, since I no longer have Agatha to dote upon.

           But as I slip the little creased note back into my pocket and make for Room 172, the paper hearts seem less mocking and my own beating heart feels just a bit lighter.

           When I reach the door I falter, doubts rushing to my head.  What if there’s no one there?  And what if there is?  Then what?

           But I turn the knob and shove open the door.

           And immediately I see who’s waiting and I hate the thrill that bolts through me, and I wish that I had turned back.

           Baz’s face goes red when he sees me and I wonder briefly if I’ve seen him this angry before, so enraged that he turns colour.

           “What,” he seethes, “are you doing here?”

           “What am I doing here?” I spit back, my heart sinking and racing at once.  “What are you doing here?”

           “None of your business,” he growls, sitting on one of the desks and pointedly looking anywhere but at me.

           Everything in me is boiling.  I’m angry and I’m disappointed at once, but I puff up my pride and stalk over to another desk and sit down to wait.  Maybe the fates will be on my side for once and the mystery writer will reveal themselves yet.

           Although, would that be the fates with me or against me?  Because everything right now is looking like Baz wrote the note, and sitting here in the empty classroom full of paper hearts with him just a few desks away, it’s getting harder to ignore the buzzing under my skin and harder to ignore the fact that he is the common denominator.

           The clock ticks away like a drumbeat and I stare at the door, hoping, praying for something to happen.

           “Why are you here?”

           I throw a glance over at Baz, who has turned his head so that he can see me without looking at me.  “If you must know,” I reply sharply, “I’m waiting for someone.”

           “Really?”

           “You think I’m lying?”

           “I think you’re pathetic.”

           I have to squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten like Penny told me before I can breathe evenly again.  “What’s your excuse, Basil?” I grit through my teeth. “Why do you have to be here?  Has no one invited you across the threshold?” It’s a lame dig, but I know it will be effective, whether he shows it or not.  If there’s anything I’ve learned from being his enemy it’s that vampire jokes are a no-no.

           “I told you, it’s none of your business.”

           “Can’t you take your business elsewhere, then?”

           “No.”

           “Arse.”

           “Prat.”

           When I turn to throw another insult at him, the sun through the window catches the side of his face and turns his eyes to silver… and the insult dies in my throat.

           Beautiful.

           I try to stomp on the thought.  No.

           But it’s too late.  

           It’s there.  It’s taken root.

           And the longer I look at him the more it flowers.

           Another thought bubbles up to the surface almost tentatively.  Are you sure it wasn’t him?

           As much as I know I should try to extinguish that notion along with the previous, I let it linger.  If I think back on it, I don’t think I ever have seen him angry enough to turn red.

           So maybe he’s not angry.  

           Maybe it’s something else.

           When he meets my eye, I’m still staring at him, and his gaze darts away again, but his cheeks.

           They go pink, and there’s no anger in his eyes.  Only uncertainty.

           His silver eyes.

           And all at once, I decide to change everything.

 Baz

“Alright, Baz,” comes Simon’s soft voice, “you can drop the act.”

           I turn to look at him again, and it’s like looking at the sun because I can feel his image scorching onto my retinas.  Meeting Simon Snow’s gaze is something that can only be done in doses, for me at least, I don’t know why.

           Well, I know why, but I can’t logically explain it.

           “Act?” I repeat dumbly.

           He slides off the desk and takes a slow step in my direction, and even that is enough to set my heart hammering.  “Yes,” he says, “act.”

           “I don’t know what -”

           “I think you do,” he interrupts me, “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” He pauses for a breath, like he’s second-guessing himself, but then he meets my eyes again.  “I think you wrote the notes.”

           My brain screeches to a halt and nothing makes sense.  “Notes,” I reply, and I hate myself because the boy I’m head-over-heels for is actually not at my throat and I sound like a parrot.

           He seems to get a burst of confidence.  “It’s okay, Baz,” he goes on, still slowly advancing, “I don’t mind, but you could have just said something.”

           I have nowhere to go.  I want to leap up from my spot and run, but I can’t.  Even in all this, my pride wins.  I’m on a desk in the middle of an empty classroom, and I’m cornered.  “Said something,” I stammer, “about what?”

           He shrugs, right in front of me now.  “Anything from any of the notes, which were unbelievably mushy, by the way. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

           “Hang on,” I stop him, unable to keep from shrinking back.  “You’ve been getting notes?”

           “All week,” he grins, “though I didn’t realize it was you until I got here.  I have to say, that last one was weak poetry. I mean, ‘roses are red, violets are blue’?”

           Something in my brain clicks and I swear I hear a ding.  “‘Meet me in Room 172’,” I finish with a sinking feeling.

           His face lights up like all the stars in the sky are in his eyes.  “I knew it was you,” he murmurs, and – Crowley – his gaze flickers to my mouth, no more than a foot away.

           And I want it.  I want to keep quiet and let him close the distance.  Hell, I want to do it myself.

           But I reach into my pocket and pull out the scrap of paper from inside.  “Then I hate to tell you this, Snow,” I say quietly, my heart breaking, “but I didn’t do it.”

           He looks away from my eyes for the first time and his brow scrunches up when he sees the note in my hand.  He takes it from me and unfolds it, his eyes scanning over the words again and again, the same little three-line poem.  I watch as he checks his pockets, finding an identical note in his jeans, and the penny drops.

           “It wasn’t you,” he says, almost to himself, and his face falls.

           “I’ve been getting anonymous notes all week, too,” I confess.  “It’s a trick on both of us.”

           His hands are shaking.  “Why would anyone do this?” he asks quietly, his face reddening, and I can’t tell whether it’s with embarrassment or anger or sadness, or all of the above.

           “I don’t know,” I stand at last and saunter over to lean against the wall, grateful for some air that isn’t charged with proximity.  “People are dicks, I guess.”

           “And you swear that you had nothing to do with it?”  He won’t look at me at all now.

           “I swear.”

           He squeezes his eyes shut and I half expect tears to appear on his cheeks, but he just nods once and turns to march towards the door.

           An image flashes through my brain, of his eyes boring into mine, of how they flickered down to my flustered mouth.

           And suddenly I decide that I’ve had enough of this.

           “Simon.”

           He stops dead in his tracks.  “What?” he says without looking at me.

           “I’m sorry.”

           “What for?  You said you didn’t do anything.”  His voice sounds sore, like he is fighting tears after all.

           “I’m sorry that you thought it was me,” I tell him, “because…” I trail off, unsure how to finish.

           “Because what?”

           I wish he would look at me.  “I hate to ask, but did you mean any of that?”

           “About not minding if it was you?”  He sighs like he’s given up.  “Yes. I meant all of it.”

           He meant all of it.  From the words to the glance at my lips.  All of it.

           He shoots me a red-faced glare at my silence.  “Happy?”

           I stare back, and I can feel a big stupid grin bubbling up.  “Yes, actually.”

           That catches him off-guard.  “Why?”

           “Because I wouldn’t mind if it was you, either,” I blurt out before I can lose my nerve.

           His eyebrows finally un-furrow and he meets my eyes properly.  I know that I’m turning pink again, but as he starts to step towards me, I hold his gaze.

           When he’s right in front of me again, close enough that I have to look down to see him, he whispers “You mean…”

           One of the paper hearts littering the room suddenly jumps up off a desk, and I don’t know if they’ve been charmed to target fools in love or not, but it starts to dance around my head.

           Simon chuckles at the heart.  “Is that a yes?”

           I allow myself a tempered version of the big stupid grin.  “You could say that.”

           The heart swoops in front of my eyes, and I lazily wave it away.

           Simon stands on tiptoe and plucks the heart from the air by my eyes, and we’re no further than a breath apart.

           And then he leans in the rest of the way.

 Agatha

Penny squeezes my hand hard when they finally fall together, and I squeeze back.  Stealthily she snaps a silent photo on her phone, and I make a mental note to get her to send it to me later.  The fruits of our labours.

           We step back from the open door of Room 172 as quietly as we can, but I doubt we need to worry.  Simon and Baz are both far too occupied to notice us.

           Penny keeps hold of my hand as we make a break for it, waiting until we’re around several corners before speaking.

           “Damn,” she grins at me, “we are good.”

           All I can do is grin back, still holding her hand as we stroll down the hallway, kicking up clouds of red paper hearts.

[silverleaf-chronicles]

The Warlock and the Prince (part 1)

“No. I won’t kill the child,” Gaalin, eyes downcast, murmured under his breath.                                   

“Say. That. Again,” the voice hissed in his mind, laced with a pregnant, unchained viciousness that he’d never heard before.

Emotions swirled. Anger at being used, deceived and manipulated; frustration, at having walked into this situation so blindly; and terror, at what would happen next; to name just a few.

The anger won out.

Gaalin drew his staff from its holster on his back, raised himself to his full height, and glared defiantly at the gigantic amethyst in the ceiling.

Striking the staff on the stone floor, he shouted. “I said NO! I won’t kill the child!”

And in the next instant, all the air was gone from his lungs. He crumpled to his knees, gasping, as he felt his powers quickly fade. The amusing visage he’d crafted of a portly old biddy seemed much less amusing as it disappeared, leaving plain, unadorned Gaalin behind. Normal eyes. Normal brows. Dusty clothes, and normal hair with all its grey streaks and split ends.

This certainly wasn’t how he’d planned on meeting with the Lady.

But his anger was far from spent.

Gaalin didn’t see the looks of surprise on the faces of his fellow travellers, but he did see the brute next to the throne reach for her sword as she started to advance. He looked at the brute, and at the crystal, weighing his options. No power left but that in his limbs.

He staggered to his feet and, with all the strength his enervated frame could summon, hurled the staff directly at the crystal.

It bounced directly off.

Tumbling to the stone floor, it smashed apart. Splinters of wood flew hither and yon - and yet somehow, the deep purple of the gems chose not to scatter, but rather to coalesce.

Gaalin dove for it.

Grabbed it.

Scooped it up, clasped it to his breast, closed his eyes and focused his entire mind.

“Hear me, my dearest, and bring me to you,” he said under his breath.

Suddenly, he was somewhere else. ….

“Gaalin! My love. You’ve been gone so long.” Gaalin squinted as his eyes adjusted to the half-light. Sunrise - morning - he hadn’t realised how much he’d missed something so mundane as a time of day until he felt it in his bones upon being there. The Amethyst Prince was before him, clad in a simple sarong. Leaning on the frame of a waist-height window of a simple, familiar shack, turning toward Gaalin, violet eyes glowing with surprised delight. “I know. I’m sorry. Things out there are so busy and so complicated and I hardly get any time to myself and… wait.” Gaalin shook his head, stiffened, and stood up as straight as he could. “This is important. It’s the Emerald Lady. She’s trying to break through.” “Break through? To where?” “To my world.”

A pause.

“She is? Oh, I am jealous! All those tiny little people living their tiny little lives. So fascinating.” Gaalin stepped back, staring. He took in a sharp breath. He’d been expecting rather a different sort of reaction to this shocking revelation. “Like insects,” the Prince said dreamily, without any hint of malefaction. “Like ants, or bees, but, far, oh, far more entertaining.” He gazed out the window, smiling a faraway smile. Breathing out, Gaalin looked around, and, glancing out the window, realised. His brow furrowed. “Ah. I see. She’s put you in the Orchard.” “You see?”, the Prince spoke languidly. He stepped forward and cupped Gaalin’s cheek. “How dashing. You must have seen so much in the Realm. I wonder, dear, what have those pretty eyes seen?”

Gaalin, his stare softening, stepped cautiously closer, and took the Prince’s hands in his own.

“Come pick herbs with me, my Prince?” he said.

—-

Outside, hands entwined, the Prince and the Warlock walked in the orchard, chatting. Knowing that the Prince could lose interest at any moment, Gaalin tried to keep the conversation flowing while they meandered toward the herb garden. “My Prince, you could go anywhere in the Forest. Why do you stay here?” “It’s nice”, the Prince relied airily. “Things are nice here. The days are long and warm. It’s peaceful, the animals are kind and the apples are just so juicy. Why would I go anywhere else?” Gaalin looked around. The Prince spoke true. The Apples of Forgetting were indeed fruiting beautifully. “Did you know that in the Realm, the days go on forever?” “How beastly. How could one fully appreciate the daytime without the night?” “Or the light without the darkness. It is quite, quite beastly. Ah, here we are.”

Gaalin and the Prince had spent countless days and nights together in the Orchard, planting and tending the seeds Gaalin had brought with him from the Realm. Their herb garden was a slight distance from the shack, and had thankfully escaped the notice of the Lady and her minions. The vegetable gardens, further out and larger, had not been so lucky. Gaalin bade the placid, pliant Prince sit with him on the dewy grass. Plucking a stem of lavender, he crumpled it in his hand and opened his palm under the Prince’s perfectly sculpted nose. Cooing over the bold purple flowers, the Prince breathed deep and his eyes became a little more focused. Gaalin spoke. “The Emerald Lady wants to break through to my world. She means to wage war. She wants to hurt people. She meant to use me to do it.” A sense of mild shock moved across the Prince’s face. “Why would she do that? What ill manners. What is she doing?”, he wondered out loud. “She wants to invade and conquer. I don’t understand why. Perhaps the thought of having something of her own has driven her mad.” “Power in the wrong hands always leads those hands to grasp for more.” “Quite so. And those hands played me like a lyre.” Gaalin threw the lavender dramatically into the air to giggles from the Prince, and reached for the basil. Plucking a leaf and deftly sliding it into the Prince’s mouth, he smiled and clicked his teeth together. The Prince, winking back, did the same. Eyes closed and head cast back, his face twitched barely perceptibly as the herb struck his senses like a bell, pushing through the fog. “She’s invading the Realm to fight battles with other gods, and to do Pelor knows what to the people there. The only thing standing in her way is me and the closest thing I have to allies. I’ve been using the power she gave me to try to help people, and she’s furious. She was trying to raise an army of dead flesh, and have me arm it, but instead we stopped it. She demanded that I murder a child. That I open the way for her with the blood of an innocent. I said no. And now she's taken all my powers from me.” The Prince’s eyes snapped open. Violet flared from them. The muscles around his dramatically high cheekbones tensed. “This won’t do.” The Prince stood and stepped away, back turned, fists clenched. Muscles flexing in the morning light. Gaalin’s heart was in his throat. “That’s beastly. She should know better. We can’t allow this.” “She manipulated me - us - from the start. Sending me away to find a way for us to travel to the Realm together. Those earrings she gave me, always there, right at my ears, linking me to her. Even as she put the stones you gave me into a staff to keep them at arm’s length. How could we not see it?” The Prince sighed with his whole body, swept his hair back with his hand and leaned his elbow on a tree with a sense of malaise. “She’s always been a clever one, my aunt.” “Not clever enough. We can stop her.” Gaalin, grabbing two more things from the garden, stepped toward the tree and slid his arms around the Prince, a sprig of peppermint crumbling in his hands. “Most insulting of all, she’s using one of your crystals to try and breach the gap.” The invigorating scent filling his nostrils, the Prince tensed, stood up straighter. “She’s doing what?” Gaalin held him tighter. “Pathetic, I know.” With considerable effort, Gaalin willed into existence before the Prince a diorama portraying the scene he had left behind. Although the Lady had turned off his tap, here in the Forest he could still draw together the faintest of power - just enough, he hoped, to get his point across.

[kores-pomegranate]

Okay, so it’s not that slow. It’s happened all at once. I would say that my transition into being a crunchy hippie started with the decision to use cloth diapers with Lily. I’ve talked about that before on the blog, but it more or less came out of a desire to save a pretty good hunk of change in the long run, but also from a previously absent desire to save the planet. I felt a huge pang of guilt every time I threw a diaper away, because I knew it was going to be tossed into a landfill, never to decompose. I know that cloth diapering isn’t for everyone, and Josh and I were very doubtful at first that it would be for us.

I asked the all-knowing mothers of Facebook about any tips for getting started with cloth diapering, and I’m about to give a shameless plug for one of my favorite stores ever. They all recommended I do a “cloth diaper trial” at The Natural Baby in Athens (this shameless plug is for people who live in my area and are thinking about trying cloth diapers but aren’t sure if they want to commit. Allison with take care of you!) Basically, she let us try different styles and brands of cloth diapers for three weeks. After doing that and deciding what I liked and what I didn’t, we made the plunge! We exclusively cloth diaper after building our stash up over time. We have 24 cloth diapers now, and that amount allows us to do it full time, without needing disposables.

It’s surprisingly easy to do, at least, the way we do it. We got the “all in one” style diapers, which are very much like a disposable. You take the whole diaper off and slap a new one on, without the need for stuffing or liners. Then, I throw them in a wet-bag until they need to be washed! The hardest part for me, and I suspect for a lot of people, is staying on top of the laundry. But, when these are the only diapers that we have, it’s hard to forget to wash them, because then Lily just won’t have diapers. The other slightly annoying thing about cloth diapering is that they need to hang and/or line dry, which takes time.  I have to schedule enough time to get them washed and then air dried before I’m going to need them. All in all though,  I really love cloth diapering and I’m so glad what we made the switch.

FYI, those are indeed diapers drying on our couch. Since things have been blooming, I feel weird about all of the pollen getting stuck in the diapers outside so I’ve been putting them inside for the time being. Don’t worry, they’re very clean.

Okay, so, that’s how it all started. Then it moved on to the decision to recycle. As a matter of fact, recycling was Josh’s idea, but I was very much on board with it. It’s seriously the easiest thing to do out of all of this. It’s as simple as keeping our trash separated. I put all of our cardboard in one bin, plastic in another, and cans in another. We don’t use enough paper or glass to constitute me creating an entirely separate space for them, but I do generally put them aside if we use them. Then, once I have a few bags, they go to the recycling place. In all honesty, for as long as we’ve been doing it, my dad has taken all of our stuff to the place. I actually don’t even know where it is. I have a vague idea, but I probably couldn’t get there without someone helping me.

Pay no mind to the Krispie Kreme and Papa John’s boxes. We’re very healthy eaters around here.

For me, the next logical step from recycling was composting. Honestly, I thought it was simply throwing all of your kitchen scraps into a pile outside and..leaving it there? I don’t know what I thought it was. Turns out, it’s a little bit more involved than that, but once you get going it’s not that bad. Basically, I save all of our veggie and fruit scraps (and things like eggshells and coffee grounds), in a bag, and when it gets to a certain point, I take it out to our compost bin. The way to start composting, according to the internet, it to make a layer of “brown stuff,” (dry leaves and stuff like that), then a layer of “green stuff,” (kitchen scraps, lawn clippings, etc.), soil, and moisture, and repeat until you have a pile about three feet high. Then you leave it for a while, then stir it. This process is repeated until you have “sweet-smelling brown stuff.” That brown stuff is what you put into gardens, to help things grow.

It took me a while to get it set up, as I mentioned, but now that I’ve got it going it’s more about maintaining. I just started a couple of days ago, so nothing is really happening yet, but basically I just have a plastic storage tub baking out in my backyard.

The jury is still out as to whether or not I’ll be successful with this, but I followed all of the directions I found, so I’m feeling hopeful.

Aaaaaaand finally, the most recent installment into my Hippie Saga, the beginnings of our garden. Growing things has always been pretty easy for me, so I feel a little guilty when I buy a lot of veggies at the store that I know I could grow. In the past I’ve grown tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, zucchini, rosemary, basil, mint, and cilantro. I would say that’s a pretty basic Georgia garden, and most of those things grow really easily in our climate without too much upkeep. I haven’t had a garden since we lived in Hartwell, and now that we have such a nice big yard with plenty of sunlight, I figured it was time! My dad is going to build us a raised bed (he’s also making me some window boxes for flowers for the front of the house), but I was tasked with preparing the yard for the raised bed. I pretty much just measured out a 5×8 plot, then took a shovel and dug up all of the grass. It only took about 45 minutes, but good grief, I must be terribly out of shape, because my arms felt like jelly. A bonus to that, though, is that I dug up plenty of worms, which I added to my compost because worms are, apparently, a great thing for compost. I don’t question it.

I’m really quite excited about planting my herbs and veggies again, and I’m excited about the new territory of window boxes! I’ve never had flowers before, but I love them and the color they add, so I’m really looking forward to caring for them.

So there you go. I’m really pleased with how things are going as far as our sustainability practices, however small they may be. It’s mostly just very tiny changes, but I reckon that if we make enough small changes, over time, it will amount to a big difference!

  My Slow Descent into Hippie-hood Okay, so it's not that slow. It's happened all at once. I would say that my transition into being a crunchy hippie started with the decision to use cloth diapers with Lily.