#but anyway lol pretty flowers from the last farmers market of the year!

[featuresofinterest]

walked to the farmers market to get these today :)

[mysticalmusicwhispers]

glimpses into a calmer universe

a gift for @luyous, because you once made some posts asking for indchu fics, and I started writing indchuran for the hell of it, but never finished until now. I think this could fit in the indchuran: bros for life AU but only after they get together, since there’s less pining than usual. Anyways, this is very overdue, but I hope you enjoy!

A little bit of domestic fluff. 3 glimpses into the indchuran universe through three different perspectives. Iran/Persia is Roshan, and they’re genderfluid.

Also on AO3!

———

The smell of food is wafting upstairs from the kitchen. It tempts Aditya sorely, and he tries to resist—he has a rather crushing workload to get through today—but five minutes later his feet are padding softly on the first floor landing, the tiles cool under his bare soles. He stops in the doorway, idly tracing the spots of afternoon sunshine dancing on the walls, and watches the figures of his two loves, side by side in the kitchen. Yao is standing in front of the stove, spatula in hand, and Roshan is at his side in front of the sink, busy washing something Aditya cannot see. They are talking quietly above the sizzle of the wok and the sound of water gushing out of the faucet, a perfect picture of domesticity, all easy smiles, gentle touches, quiet jokes and careless laughter. An intimate synchronization of movement, like their hearts are beating in time. It strikes Aditya that his heart suddenly feels like it is overflowing, and he supposes he’s done enough watching from afar—for today, at least. 

Yao hears him coming first, and turns around as he enters the kitchen, but doesn’t say anything, just acknowledges him with a smile and a softening of the eyes, and begins to heap the stir-fried ants-on-a-branch—the vegetarian variation, with diced shiitake mushrooms instead of minced meat—onto a plate. When Roshan sees him, Aditya is treated to a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek that smells like roses before they turn back to washing the spinach, cilantro, and parsley—Aditya thinks they’re for the reshteh that recently appeared in the kitchen cupboard—in the sink. 

He offers to help with the washing, or the onions (even though they make him cry, which always makes Roshan and Yao laugh), but Roshan pushes him lightly out of the kitchen and Yao makes sure he doesn’t go back in. So Aditya is forced to sit at their small dining table, debating whether to finish his work or enjoy the afternoon sunshine streaming in from the glass back door. The work, he decides, isn’t worth it, and instead he goes back to watching Roshan and Yao work. He refuses to think he is admiring them. 

Nevertheless, it isn’t long before he’s too caught up in staring that he doesn’t notice Yao nudging Roshan and whispering “Aditya’s pining again”. But when Roshan catches him staring, they just smile cheekily, wink, and blow him a theatrical kiss that still makes Aditya’s throat catch and his heart stutter, even after a year of dating them. When they turn back to chopping herbs, the sunlight catches on their hair, coating it gold. Aditya is reminded of Roshan’s name, and Yao’s—and their meanings: light, shining. 

He does not think himself sentimental, but sometimes—many times—he wonders if they were fated to be. And he supposes it is not too cliche to admit to himself, privately, that his partners are the lights of his life.

———

Yao pauses at the entrance of the Ferry Building Farmer’s Market, still wondering whether it was wise to bring Aditya and Roshan along, and whether they will drag him to every place that sells anything vaguely shiny before leaving. But just as he thinks this, he makes the mistake—and it is definitely a mistake—of turning, and catches Aditya grinning at him, flashing an easygoing smile—a smile he’d do anything to keep, and he relents. But his regrets, or doubts, or whatever the vaguely self-preserving feeling in his chest is, must have shown on a slight frown or in an imperceptible sigh, because Roshan kisses his cheek and says,

“Come on Yao, we’ll handle ourselves. We won’t get distracted and we’ll be back at home in no time, exactly as you planned.” They wink at Aditya, which is never a good sign, but it’s still enough to wheedle him into agreeing, however fondly exasperated he is, and however certain he is that they will waste half the day away, as usual. He sighs again—the old man sigh, according to Roshan—but grumbles a “fine, but you need to pay me back in white rabbit”, and watches them veer off towards the artisan stalls, holding hands. Aditya’s hair glints brightly in the sun, and Roshan’s is dyed a rich, dark brown. Like two suns, hand in hand; one bright, the other warm.

Someone bumps into him, and Yao shakes himself out of his reverie. The grocery list is a mile long, and he doesn’t need to waste more time than is absolutely necessary, after all.

But finding all the things he needs to buy takes more time than he likes, and the walk to the Chinatown butcher’s to see whether they have halal live chicken— they don’t—takes even longer, so that it is almost noon (two whole hours, which he realizes with a pang) when he wanders back to the Ferry Building to find Aditya and Roshan in a small jewelry shop, excitedly inspecting a stand of earrings. He watches them for a second through the windows as Aditya holds a pair of dangling yellow lotus blossoms up to his ears and Roshan looks on admiringly. Yao is pretty sure he too is admiring Aditya—he looks truly beautiful, with the earrings and a modest smile and a bright twinkle in his polished obsidian eyes—but some part of him pulls him back into real time and reminds him that although it is a Saturday, he has no time to waste (stupid law firm), and he regretfully walks into the store to retrieve his partners. He thinks—no, he knows—it will be half an hour before he can pull them away from the (admittedly alluring) jewelry displays, but he supposes Aditya’s cheek kiss and Roshan’s cheerful gratitude will be worth it. Anyways, he can always bullshit case briefings and squeeze out extra time somewhere. He’d rather not rush this moment.

———

When Roshan finally trudges home after getting the week’s groceries, neither Yao nor Aditya are there to hold the door open for them, and there is no response when they call out an “I’m back” from the kitchen. They know Yao and Aditya are in the house—Yao’s Hello Kitty slippers are missing from the shoemat—so the only possibility is that they are ignoring Roshan. Sad. They sigh—rather theatrically—but heave everything into the refrigerator without calling a second time, and hope this will be a fair trade for them failing to find white rabbit in Chinatown for the third time in a row. 

Yao and Aditya, they find, are in the living room couch, engaged in another petty struggle over the remote. The newest Game of Thrones episode is playing on the TV Yao shipped from China, and Aditya is furiously muttering about “what a trashy white-produced rapefest show it is” and trying to swipe at the remote Yao grips with white-knuckled hands. Yao, for his part, has not retaliated much at all, besides scooting over to the other side of the couch and obstinately holding onto the precious remote. Roshan looks on for a time, amused, and watches Tywin Lannister’s face loom nastily over them all, until Aditya turns around and catches sight of them in the doorway. 

“Roshan, help me! You can’t possibly agree with Yao’s taste, can you?” Aditya looks thoroughly exasperated, and Roshan almost can’t believe how much his voice begs them to take a side. 

“No thanks. Aditya, you’ll have to fight the good fight by yourself; I’ll be in the kitchen making dinner.” They smirk, and decide that the way Aditya swells up with absolute fury is definitely worth whatever payback is coming. And as they walk back to the kitchen to start washing vegetables for dinner, there is a brief moment of silence as the TV switches off before everything descends into chaos. Yao's yelling now, and, by the sound of it, has started a pillow fight that Aditya joins in with enthusiasm. Roshan glances back, just in time to watch Yao whack Aditya with a flower patterned pillow and scream, 

"LET ME LOOK AT TYWIN LANNISTER AGAIN, ADITYA!" 

They are idiots, Roshan thinks with a smile, but they are their idiots.

———

Feedback is welcome and appreciated! thank you for reading :)

Notes

In the second scene, I just chose a notable farmer’s market in San Francisco at random hhhhh (apologies for any inaccuracies if anyone from CA is reading lol) the Ferry Building Farmers Market is pretty close to Chinatown, and although idk where they live in San Fran, Yao’s gotta get his white rabbit from somewhere right (the live chicken would be for chicken soup, but not the American kind)

Last scene inspired/taken from this ask! thank you bones, this was the fic I was talking about lol

the title was made up on the spot but I was thinking along the lines of “well this is a universe where the three of them are less of a group of bastards and also don’t have to contend as much with complex relations and just be lovers together”

In the first scene, there are two dishes I was referencing:

Ants-on-a-branch: 蚂蚁上树, whose proper name is ants climbing a tree, but I tweaked the translation a little. It’s a Sichuan dish that usually consists of vermicelli noodles cooked with minced meat (pork I believe) and a bunch of green onions and chopped peppers for spice (my parents also add stuff like wood ear, a fungus, and carrots and don’t add pepper but idk how “authentic” that is because we ain’t from Sichuan lol). For a lot of Chinese dishes you can usually substitute meat with shiitake mushrooms to make it vegetarian/vegan.

I tried to imply that the dish Roshan was planning to make is ash reshteh, a Persian dish of thick noodle soup with various herbs, onions, and peas. Kashk or yogurt whey is also a component of the soup and gives it its signature rich sour flavor. Because reshteh noodles are believed to bring good luck, ash reshteh is typically served around the Persian New Year, Nowruz, and at important events, but it can be theoretically be eaten at any time.

[kingyeoms]

neuroscience TA! joshua

pairing: joshua hong x reader (n)  genre: it’s all fluff sorry warnings(?): swearing and just really casual writing in bullet points lol word count: 2,044 a/n: i barely proofread this and this is nothing like what i usually write but i’ve been thinking about this since the start of the new semester and welp here we are. a/a/n: i just realized.. people might not really know what a TA/teaching assistant is! usually someone who is working towards their doctoral degree and are obligated to assist teaching a course in their department, usually in charge of teaching discussion/supplemental sections~ ♡ best read on desktop, use mobile browser if you can’t read under the cut ♡

3rd year phd candidate

does research on neural circuit mechanisms in aging adults

big geek about brains, shows a thirty minute long video of a sheep brain dissection for the first day of section

people fell asleep but it’s fine bc josh is so excited about the video and everyone finds it endearing

always dresses so casually!! comes to class wearing sweats and plain black t-shirts (probably buys them in packs for $3)

but he still has the reputation among the undergraduate students as the “hot neuro TA”

cracks jokes w/ his students all the time

literally everyone wants to take the class that joshua hong is TAing

“joshua what are you teaching next semester??” “topics in advanced neuroimaging, you gonna take it?” “never mind, good luck”

brings his dog named peanut to class all the time

peanut is a giant ass st. bernard who likes to walk around the class and sleep next to people’s feet

super adorable but also a big Drooler

you’re the other teaching assistant for the same neuroanatomy class, but in the psychology department

you’re super down to earth!! honestly you treat your students like friends, talking to them super casually

but when class starts, you know how to get down to business and you’re super passionate about what you’re talking about

the psych undergrads have a ton of respect for you, because not only were you chill but you were mad smart too!!

your kids walking into class: “y/n guess what fucking happened in lecture”

you: “listen, you probably shouldn’t say the f word in front of me but tell me what the fuck happened”

anyways, here’s a funny coincidence: your lab and joshua’s lab are on the same floor

so it’s not a surprise that you and josh have this ongoing “feud” of which is more superior: psych vs neuro

“psych is for people who can’t handle neuro” “neuro is for people who hate themselves”

your office is opposite of his, so he’s always stopping by your room to annoy you or steal something from the jar of candy on your desk.

you: “why am i constantly out of kit-kats?”

josh, fistfuls of kit-kats behind his back: “damn, you should probably buy some more”

he’ll mess with your powerpoint slides, swapping photos of the cerebellum for photos of him and peanut

which SUCKS when you’re teaching,, and josh’s dumb face pops up on the projector,, 

your kids: “nice one josh”

when you’re holding office hours for your students, he stops by and says some dumb shit to your kids like “come to my office instead, y/n doesn’t know what they’re talking about” 

“fuck off, joshua” “oooooh you curse in front of your students? i’m telling the professor”

you just roll your eyes and the two of you just laugh at each other

the students who come to your office hours swear you two have a thing going on

and honestly? you wish

you’ve always thought josh was pretty cute

being a phd student was stressful, especially with research and teaching, but he never failed to put a smile on your face!!

you two were often the last ones on the floor, in charge of locking up rooms and cleaning equipment

he always insists on walking you to your car at night because “the raccoons might attack you”

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about kissing him in your office but shhh

during lecture, you guys share a google doc to take notes on what to teach your students

he thinks it’s funny to delete everything you write

you, sitting next to him in the front row: “joshua hong if you don’t press ctrl + z right now i swear to god i’ll change the lock code to the EEG room”

josh: “wait don’t i have a study tomorrow”

proctoring exams with josh: “i can pass out tests faster than you” “are we five???? but no you can’t”

he’s really good… at catching people cheating? the dude has eyes like a hawk lmao and you don’t even notice honestly

“see the kid with the blue baseball cap on? give him a 0″

anyways the professor asks you and joshua to come in on a weekend to grade midterms

you: but i made plans

josh: i’m not ?? even getting paid ??

but you guys do it anyways because it’s not like you have a choice lmao rip

he brings peanut and he’s just drooling all over your bag

peanut not josh

i guess josh is metaphorically drooling because… you looked really good today

not the usual jeans and college sweatshirt you wear during the week

you had originally made plans with your friends to go to the farmer’s market

it was a really nice day :( sunny outside and you actually tried to not look like a mess for once!! you actually brushed your hair today lol

anyways, peanut is still drooling and you look at josh, confused but also a little grossed out

“why is peanut drooling?” “do you have food in your bag?” “i don’t think so?” “oh. maybe he just likes you”

peanut: pulls out a granola bar out of your bag

anyways… you two are grading exams, checking over the answer key for any mistakes

you furrow your brows as you look over the answer choices, so you ask josh to take a look at question 23

“yeah, what about it?” “look at the answer choices, there are two possible answers.” “ah fuck.”

turns out… a lot of the questions are like that..

you and josh just look at each other and groan, realizing you two have to redo the entire answer key

you call your friends to cancel your plans, saying you were stuck at school

joshua feels really bad so he reaches over to grab your stack of tests

“you can go if you want! i’ll finish it, no worries”

you shake your head, pulling out a box of red pens from your bag

“no thanks, my boyfriend would miss me” 

a confused josh: “no i wouldn’t?”

“… i was talking about peanut?” but you’re giggling because josh’s face is beet red at this point

joshua: “anyways, question 40 right?”

truth is, joshua has always found you cute and he liked the fact that when he teased you, you weren’t afraid to tease him back

he just felt.. really comfortable around you

and seeing you smile after he cracked a joke?? best thing in the world to him besides peanut

even when you roll your eyes at him, he thinks it’s so cute!!

cliché moment where you two reach for the answer key at the same time and your hands touch

but neither of you let go wow so cute and you guys kind of just !! grade tests in silence, holding hands

joshua’s the type to rub your the back of your hand with his thumb i’m lowkey crying thinking about it

anyways, you guys end up finishing grading and the sun is starting to set

josh realizes that you two spent the entire day stuck inside the office, so he offers to take you to the farmer’s market

but you don’t wanna be a bother or anything so you shake your head, “no it’s okay!!”

josh insists that he takes you, saying “i gotta take peanut on a walk, come on let’s go”

so you two go to the farmer’s market, the crowds starting to die down a little bit since it’s the end of the day

josh holds your hand and peanut’s leash in the other

peanut keeps dragging you guys to all the booths that sell homemade peanut butter and he’s never been happier, he keeps getting free samples and head scratches

you’re looking at a booth that sells homemade jewelry, think leather bracelets and dainty finger rings

“josh, what do you think about th-” you turn to your side, but josh and peanut are nowhere to be found

and you look through the crowds and the booths next to you, but you can’t find them anywhere

you kind of panic,, because you didn’t think josh was the type to ditch someone? on a date?

was this even a date you weren’t sure to be honest,, but still :( you were kind of upset 

but you finally see peanut dragging joshua back to you, a small bouquet of sunflowers in his hand

joshua’s cheeks and ears are tinged a slight pink when he gives the flowers to you, “i saw a stand selling these and they just looked really pretty, so i bought them for you”

and the flowers are so beautiful and your jaw literally aches from smiling so big and josh thinks you’re so beautiful!!

you two walk around a bit more, hand!! in!! hand!! 

josh: trying to pull peanut away from all the friendly people willing to give him free beef jerky

tired from all the walking, you two buy ice cream, sitting on a bench in front of the tiny shop

peanut eats josh’s ice cream when he’s not looking

josh: peanut what the fuck

you offer to buy him another one, but he shakes his head, taking the cone from your hand, biting into the soft pink scoop

“let’s just share, strawberry is my second favorite anyways”

your jaw just drops because,, who bites into ice cream?

but it’s cute, you two talk about how much you hate the professor and which students you think are annoying

you two don’t even realize how dark it is until you hear peanut snoring, curled up at the bottom of your feet

josh is the first to stand up, his hand reaching out to yours, “it’s getting a little late, i’ll take you home?”

and so that’s how you and joshua ended up at the front door of your apartment

your hand clutching the sunflowers, the other intertwined in his fingers

and when he leans in, you don’t hesitate to close the gap between you two

kissing joshua? definitely better than you expected, the taste of strawberry ice cream still slightly lingering on his lips

your lips move in perfect harmony with his, joshua placing his hand on the small of your back

as soon as you feel josh pull you in closer, you feel a... wet.. tongue on your foot? you both break away to find peanut,, asleep,, drooling,, on your toes

“damn it, peanut” josh groans as you giggle, resting your forehead against his

“i’ll see you on monday, yeah?” you grinned, kissing him on the cheek

"yeah i really,, gotta take this kiddo home,,” and he sighs, waking Big ol’ peanut up “but i had a lot of fun tonight, we should do it again sometime”

“as long as we don’t have to grade 600 midterms again, it’s a date”

the both of you blush because,, was this even a date??

yes, it was

but seriously, what a super cute start to your relationship with josh

you don’t even get mad when you find out it’s josh stealing all of your kit kats

he leaves a giant bag of them on your desk one day to make up for it

but also joshua is the Worst

joshua: “how does it feel to be dating the hot neuro TA on campus?”

you: “shut up before you become the hot single neuro TA”

sometimes josh stops by your class when you’re teaching to give you a kiss on your cheek before he goes to do research,,, embarrassing you in front of all your students (even though pda is probably something that shouldn’t be happening in front of them)

literally Everyone: “we fucking called it”

definitely still makes fun of you 24/7,, just with more kissing

friday nights with joshua: skimming academic papers and talking shit on faculty LOL

going to the farmer’s market becomes a weekly thing for you guys!! mainly because the peanut butter booth would be devastated if they didn’t get to see Mister peanut

sooo,, you may or may not have done it on your desk in the lab LOL

josh in lecture: hey i think you’re pretty cute, maybe we should get dinner tonight?

you: josh can you pls stop flirting with me on google docs you’re LAME

[bellarke-addict]

Of Potatoes and Psychological Warfare

Octavia leaves Chewie with Bellamy for the week, his next-door neighbour Lincoln helps the puppy unwittingly wage psychological warfare on him.

Octavia and Bellamy Blake have a large messy interconnected circle of friends.

Some were hers- Jasper, Monty, Raven, Clarke- and some were his- Miller, Monroe, Harper.

These were the ride-or-die kind of friends, if they got the call in the middle of the night that one of their own was in a hospital, you better believe that they were headed straight for the waiting room and not budging until they got the all clear. They shared clothes, meals, homes. They helped each other move everything from furniture to bodies.

Because Clarke and Miller were emergency responders, not serial killers.

So why the hell Octavia had demanded that Bellamy be the one to look after Chewie was beyond them.

Chewie the Cane Corso puppy had entered their life a year ago, when he had been found abandoned in the park, tied to a tree. Octavia had brought him home, nursed him back to health and the two had been inseparable ever since.

Everyone in the group adored him except Bellamy, who was mildly allergic to both dogs and creatures that made chew toys of his shoes and books.

But Octavia had got into a two-week summer programme at college which was essentially hiking through Yellowstone for credit and had been told that she couldn’t bring the dog because it would be too hot for creature. And Bellamy was the only one with a back yard.

He’d tried to argue that Jasper and Monty would be better for puppy-sitting because they were home all day and would give him plenty of love in between dressing him up for Instagram and the bikers next door might upset him when they revved their engines or played their loud music but she’d only handed him the bag of dog food and told him to suck it up.

Besides, it would be a good excuse for Clarke to frequently drop by, under the pretext of ‘checking up’ on Chewie.

Group Chat: The Delinquents

8:03 am

Bellamy: Did one of you bring a potato into my house?

Raven: Is this a dad joke? Are you fried up?

Bellamy Blake has added a photo

Bellamy: No, it’s a ‘Chewie just fetched me a potato and I have no idea from where’ joke

Jasper: Awwww, he brought you a present…good boy!

Bellamy: There are no potatoes in my house or yard, where the hell did it come from?!

Clarke:  Are you sure it’s a potato?

Bellamy: No Griffin, the guy who had to give a conference talk on the Irish potato famine representation in modern British media can’t tell a potato from a tennis ball. Which one is brown and which one is bright green again?

Monty: A potato can be bright green if you treat it right.

Bellamy: For the last time Monty, you and Jasper need to clean out your damn fridge

Bellamy: And now’s there another potato!

Octavia: Lol, tell Chewie I said he’s a good boy.

Bellamy Blake was an eighty-year-old man trapped in the body of a twenty-six-year-old sex god.

He loved books, refused to even think about buying an e-reader, barely understood social media, preferred staying in to watch documentaries instead of going out and when his friends did manage to force him outside, he was either home by three am or making everyone around him miserable with his grouching.

So, when Clarke comes in his door to hear him swearing up a storm, she panics, thinking he must have injured himself badly- like, hospital, blood transfusions and surgery, badly- to be uttering curse words.

She finds him in the kitchen and nearly injures herself when she doubles over laughing.

“Eight!” Bellamy shouts, gesturing wildly, “How the fuck did he find eight?!”

Chewie woofed happily, tongue lolling and tail wagging as he sat proudly amongst the potatoes.

Clarke finds herself on her knees, her right hand pressed to her stomach as she tries to catch her breath and Chewie bounds over, knocking her onto her back as he leans against her for pats.

“This, is the best thing I’ve ever seen!” she manages to gasp eventually, assuming that Bellamy's lack of response was due to his attempt to keep a fragile hold on his sanity and not because from where he was standing, he could see right down Clarke's shirt.

Lincoln wasn’t really a fan of gardening.

He could do the basics, he mowed his lawn, trimmed the tree in his backyard so it didn’t hang over into the neighbours’ properties and could keep his houseplants alive.

But growing fruits, vegetables or flowers? More trouble than it was worth.

Which was why he’d been annoyed when his cousin Luna had come to stay and insisted he should try growing his own organic produce.

She’d thought she could convert him by going ahead and planting the seeds while he was at work, but he’d spotted her preparing the soil the night before and waited until she’d gone for her evening run before sneaking out with salt from the pantry, sprinkling it over the patches so nothing would grow.

He’d almost been successful as well.

Except for the damn potato plants.

Not only had they survived his neglect, his dumping hot water on them and then a light spray of WD-40- the only toxic thing he’d had on hand at the time- but they had actually reached their harvest season intact.

And this was bad news, because if Luna found out that one plant could grow in his backyard, she’d do her damn best to turn him into an amateur farmer.

So, when he heard scruffling early one morning, and came out to find a giant dog digging into his potato patch, his only concern had been for the creature.

“Hey buddy,” he crooned, crouching down and holding out a hand, “You’re not lost, are you?”

The dog had raised its head, bounded over to knock him onto his ass and sniff him enthusiastically before going back to his digging.

He emerged with a potato in his mouth and Lincoln is smiling encouragingly as the puppy shook his head vigorously until it was free of the plant and he pads over to the fence, where Lincoln saw a hole had been dug.

Well, really, he couldn’t have stopped him even if he had wanted to.

He stretches up onto his toes to look over the fence and watches the dog head into his neighbour’s house, clearly vacationing there, obviously not lost and he heads inside to start his day.

The dog, who according to his bright pink name tag, was called Chewie, visited him twice a day, usually when his neighbour was at work and Lincoln guessed by the shouts of frustration and confusion that the dog-sitter had absolutely no idea where the potatoes were coming from.

If it were anyone else, Lincoln might have been disposed to knock on his door and explain but, even though he’d never officially met his neighbour, he didn’t like the guy.

Shortly after he’d moved in, Lincoln had had the police around about a noise complaint, and yeah, Nyko and his friends had their motorcycles parked on his front lawn, having a boozy cook-out pretty close to midnight, but they were the local chapter for BACA and had just finished a long protection stint only three blocks over.

Thing was, if the neighbour had just asked him, he would have told Nyko to keep it quiet.

And yeah, he knows knocking on the door of a guy with a yard full of bikers could be a little scary, but the second strike against the neighbour came from the noises he heard after six pm.

And no, not sex noises, Lincoln could ignore those, but the media noises.

Specifically, the documentaries that for the last six months had been almost exclusively world war two, holocaust and Nazi focused.

And Lincoln knew one thing for certain, only two kinds of people watched those kinds of documentaries in large quantity- historians or weirdoes.

His neighbour was tilting towards the weirdo end of the spectrum, not full blown ‘this was what liberals meant when they argued for mental health background checks’ but close to ‘would not be surprised if he eventually served time in the military or a federal prison’

So, if a rapidly growing dog wanted to dig up Luna’s potatoes and wage psychological warfare on his neighbour, Lincoln wasn’t going to stop him.

In fact, one afternoon he came home from the store with milk-bones to encourage the puppy.

He liked to have his front and back door open during the day, after all, anyone brave enough to rob him isn’t going to be deterred by a locked door and he liked the fresh air. So, he’s not surprised when he wakes up to find Chewie wandering into his bedroom.

“Morning, buddy,” he croaks, his voice heavy with sleep, and he flops a hand over the bed, to be head-butted and licked before the dog clambers over the sheets, marking them with dirty paw-prints.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, not expecting a response but Chewie flops onto his belly, looking mournful as he contemplates the pillow and Lincoln has a moment where he worries his next-door neighbour might have died in the night.

Except his neighbour locked up the house every night, so more likely, Chewie’s issues were on his side of the fence.

“Am I out of potatoes?” he asks, climbing out of bed and pulling on a pair of boxers, heading to the backyard to see the remains of the veggie patch.

From what he could see from the three-foot distance he refused to close between himself and Luna’s hobby, he was potato free.

He personally thinks this is a good thing, but Chewie is pawing the ground, whimpering with disappointment and Lincoln can actually hear his heart breaking.

“Okay, buddy,” He bends down and scratches his ear, “How do you feel about non-organic potatoes?”

There’s a fresh produce market a few blocks over and he tells himself that he had been planning to stock up anyway as a subtle sign to Luna that he was never going to grow his own food, so really, the ten-kilo bag of spuds he lugs into his house has more than one purpose.

Chewie woofs happily as Lincoln throws the purple vegetables into the yard, jumping into the air to catch one in his mouth and not ten minutes later, he’s chuckling to himself as he hears his neighbour’s scream.

“They’ve changed colour!”

Honestly, he’s surprised that nobody figured it out sooner.

He comes home one day- and thirty potatoes later- to find Chewie sitting on his front porch with a young woman wearing hiking gear with tanned skin but a sunburnt nose.

“Hi,” she greets, pushing herself up, a long ponytail swinging behind her,

“Um…has my dog been stealing your potatoes?”

Part of him wants to deny it, because he heard his neighbour watching The Man in the High Castle last night and he’s beginning to worry, but Chewie pads over and flops onto his back, paws high in the air and tongue lolling out.

“I wouldn’t say stealing,” Lincoln protests, trying to fight the grin creeping across his face, “Just…enthusiastically gardening?”

Chewie squirms on his back, wriggling his whole body and kicking his leg enthusiastically as Lincoln rubs his belly with his boot.

The woman watches them both with an arched eyebrow, “Well this enthusiastic gardening has been driving my brother crazy, I found him going through the house looking for a secret cache of potatoes, positive our friends were sneaking them in for Chewie.”

Lincoln chuckles, “I think that says more about your friends than it does about me.”

He holds out his hand, “Lincoln Woods.”

She takes it with a grin and a firm shake, “Octavia Blake.”

“How’d you figure it out?” he asks, opening his front door and stepping out of the way as Chewie pads inside, Octavia following after a quick glance in his direction.

“Well, I knew our friends weren’t stupid enough to piss Bellamy- my brother- off this badly,” she begins, laughing as she sees Chewie walk into the open pantry and re-emerge with a potato in his mouth, “Not when he’s the only one guaranteed to come bail them out of jail on a Sunday morning. So, I guessed he was getting them from one of the neighbours and you were the best bet.”

The two of them amble out to the yard to see Chewie disappearing under the hole in the fence and Lincoln tries to think of how to keep Octavia around.

“What about the guy on the other side of the fence?” he suggests and she snorts, crossing her arms over her chest,

“Oh, you mean Wallace? Guessing you haven’t met the guy then?”

He shakes his head, “Not a fan?”

He doubles back to the kitchen and offers her tea, secretly thrilled when she says yes and hops up on his kitchen stool. She elaborates on her issues with his neighbours two doors up, that her brother was a historian, not a burgeoning serial killer, although apparently the potatoes had been driving him dangerously insane. He also learns that she’s house-sitting for her brother next week while he’s at a conference.

He doesn’t learn if she’s single but when she notes that he uses a kettle to make tea, he blatantly lies about Luna- who he emphasises his cousin- giving it to him as a present after his last girlfriend had to move overseas for work.

They’re on their second cup of tea and chatting about her hike when her brother comes looking for her because they’re meant to be somewhere. And big brother glares at him the entire time Octavia is introducing them and Lincoln can’t resist holding his hand out to Chewie, who immediately sits down and offers his paw to shake.

It’s a toss-up as to which of them Bellamy Blake dislikes more.

At least until the day after he’s left for the conference, when Octavia comes around for a cup of tea which sits cold and forgotten as Lincoln spreads her across his sheets and they stay there for hours until Chewie comes barging into the bedroom, potato in his mouth.

“Okay,” he groans as she slowly pushes herself up onto her elbows, “I have to ask, why potatoes?”

Octavia laughs, “Not a clue.”

Bellamy gives a lovely speech at their wedding, about how Lincoln has become like a brother to him, how happy he is that Octavia fell in love with such a good man…

Lincoln almost feels guilty that he’d insisted on having his new brother-in-law served an entrée of potato gratin.

Almost.