#leaving my early spring cleaning on a happier note

[grimoirering]

anywhoooooooooo look at my ugly hamster

[teacupcollector]

A Helping Hand - Chapter 3

Series Masterlist Summary - As a woman who is pregnant you are doing anything if it means survival. Even so you found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time, or was it the other way around? Now you are in the community of Jackson and you can’t help but attract a certain pair of hazel eyes.

(Hello! I would like to note that this is much longer then what I usually write for a chapter so I hope it doesn’t come as a bother. I hope you all enjoy!)

From then on those thirty minute talks became a regular thing between the two of you. You and Joel would meet up, mostly at night on each other's porches and just talk or maybe just sit in silence. He seemed to be very rough around the edges in the beginning especially when it came to questions about his past. All you really knew about Joel before the outbreak was that he was a divorcee and was a carpenter. You decided not to push it and talk about other things. As of right now you both were currently sitting on a porch swing on your porch. He had his guitar in his lap playing a soft little tune and humming.

"You ever play?" He asks out of the blue. "What? Oh no I have never played." You say. "Would ya like to?" He asks. "I couldn't even if I tried." You laughed. "My belly is almost the size of a full grown watermelon. The guitar wouldn't fit in my lap." You say and he chuckles. "But I will say this little sucker likes hearing you play." You say rubbing your belly. "He looks between you and your belly. "Does he?" Joel asks. "Yes definitely! They wouldn't give me a break until you started playing." You say with a warm smile. "And how do you know they are a 'He?' How can you tell?" You asks and he chuckles. "You're carrying low." You give him a confused look and he chuckles. "That means the weight is lower. With a girl it would be more elevated." He says setting the guitar against the railing of the porch. "And how would you know that?" You ask. He pauses for a moment before saying. "I had a daughter before all of this happened." You try not to have a reaction. You place a comforting hand on his arm. "You don't have to talk about it Joel." "I uh... I'll tell you one day okay sweetheart?" He asks and you nod with a blush.

There is a silence before Joel asks. "If you don't mind me asking. What happened to the father?" You sigh and look down removing your hand from his arm. "Well it is kind of hard to explain." You let out a nervous laugh. "It was mainly a friends with benefits thing..." You says looking ahead. "... But he did step up when he found out I was pregnant. I would be dead if it wasn't for him." You say with a quiver present in your voice. "There were these fucking hunters that attacked us. We were talking about baby names." You say with a laugh as tears fill your eyes. "We were best friends from the start actually. It was just us against the world." You sniffle. "He sacrificed himself to save me and I have to live with the thought that I got him killed." You say wiping your eyes as tears begin to fall down your face. "You didn't get him killed (Y/N)..." "Yes I did." "You didn't." "I did!" You cry out. Joel immediately wraps an arm around you bringing your head to his chest.  "All I can think about is that he got chopped up into tiny pieces!" You say into his chest. "I-I went back even though he told me not to. I went back to see if he was dead and... And all that was left was his head!" She sobs into Joel's chest grabbing onto his jacket. He wraps his other arm around you, one cradling your head and the other rubbing soothing circles on your back. He stands up with you and guides you inside to your bedroom. He makes sure you lay down and tucks you into bed. "D-don't leave! Please..." You whimper and he nods bringing your desk chair over and sitting down. "I'm sorry..." You murmur as your eyes drift close.

Ever since that day Joel made sure he did his best to make himself available to you. When he isn't on patrol or with Ellie he is with you. The early tells of Spring has just arrived so as a small celebration everyone decided to get together in the square of Jackson. Kids were playing and singing, there were streamers and fairy lights hanging off the buildings, there were small fold up tables with drinks and food on them, and then there was you. You were in some black flats wearing a beautiful maternity sun dress and Joel couldn't keep his eyes off of you. Your hair was styled differently, or maybe it was the same but never have you looked so beautiful. His eyes traveled from your smooth exposed legs, to the swell of your stomach and hips, to the fullness of your breasts, up your neck, then finally your beautiful side profile. When they say that a woman is glowing when she is pregnant, that would be an understatement when it came to you. He was convinced that you could outshine the sun if you wanted. He is nudged to the side slightly breaking him from his trance. He looks beside him to see his little brother next to him. Tommy had a shit eating smirk on his face. "What?" Joel grunts. "She's beautiful ain't she?" Tommy asks looking to see his brothers reaction. Joel only grunts and looks away. "Why don't ya just tell her?" He asks and Joel sighs. "She is to young for me Tommy..." Tommy sighs. "She isn't that young, she is in her thirties." Tommy says trying to reason with his brother. "She is going to have a baby Tommy. She shouldn't have to deal with an old man like me..." Joel says with sadness filling his voice.

"You know she talks a big deal about you right?" Tommy asks. Joel looks at him curious urging him to continue. "She boasts about ya. Sayin' how helpful you are to her and stuff." Tommy says before continuing. "You both were the talk of the town when you went off on Seth. You have been spending a lot of time with her." He says then nods in your direction. "Ellie seems to like her as well." Joel looks up and sees you smiling and laughing with both Dina and Ellie. Dina seemingly can't keep her hands off you bump and the two teens eyes widening with excitement when they feel a kick from the little life that is inside you. There was currently music playing as couples begin to pair off with each other. He sees you place both hands on your belly and go to sit on a bench that was placed near the square for this event. Joel sighs and continues to admire you. "You deserve to be happy brother... Now you go ask that pretty lady to dance." He says elbowing Joel's side gently and Joel nods and begins to make his way over to you.

Despite all the ruckus in the square you have never felt happier. This was your first town event since you have been here and you couldn't be more excited. When it came to the preparation and set up of this event you wanted to help in any way you could. Maria decided it would be best if you didn't do any hard labor since you were coming up on eight months now. Maria thought it would be a good idea to distract the children so they wouldn't get in the way and you gladly accepted. You spent all morning coloring, reading books, and playing with them. They all were very curious about your stomach and you allowed them to feel. All the kids decided to color you and the baby when he or she arrives. They all also made a book of names for you to choose such as: Hotdog, Teddy, and Sprinkles. You giggled and laughed all morning until one of the mainly residents came to let you know that the kids are allowed to go to the event. You had them walk in two single file lines all the way to the square and to say that the parents as well as Maria weren't impressed would be a lie. Maria went up to you immediately and offered you a spot for helping and or teaching the kids. You accepted but only after your baby was born to which she agreed.

As of right now you just got out of a conversation with Dina and Ellie. You were happy to be talking to them despite the fifteen or sixteen year age difference. You decided it was best to sit down and get off your feet for a bit. You let out a sigh of relief as you sit down on the bench. You roll your ankles in circular motions in order to relieve some tension. You close your eyes and hum along to the music when there was suddenly a tap on your knee. You open them to see one of the kids standing next to you. He had brown hair with many freckles and brown eyes, he was maybe around  eight years old. "Would you like to dance Miss (Y/N)?" He asks and you smile. "Of course good sir I would love to dance with you." You stand up and walk to a free space where people weren't dancing. You had to lean down  slightly in order to hold his hands as you both sway back and forth. The child went on and on about how his day was going, what his friends were going to do at the sleep over, and even how you were his favorite teacher. The conversation was interrupted when Joel tapped on the young boys shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?" He asks with a small smile and the boy shakes his head before going to run off with his friends. Both you and Joel stand there for a moment before he reaches out his hand. "Hi..." He says seemingly gazing at you. "Hi..." You say taking his hand. He brings you as close as he could despite your belly getting in the way. He places his other hand at the small of your back and begins to sway from foot to foot. "How are you?" He ask. "I couldn't be better." You say smiling. You look him up and down to see him in a button up flannel of sorts. His sleeves are rolled up to expose his forearms and to say he looked good was an understatement. " You clean up nice. " You say with a smile before releasing his hand wand wrapping both of them behind his neck. "I try and look nice every once and a while." He says with a smirk. "And you dance too?" You ask. He nods before taking your hands off his neck and slowly twirl you to where your back was against his chest. You let out a joyful laugh and look over your shoulder to smile up at him. "You've got moves huh Mr. Miller?" You says smiling. "That I do." He says looking down at you. Your eyes are locked in a trance as you both can't seem to stop. You were sure you could feel his heart beating out of his chest against your back. You find yourself glancing down at his lips and he does the same. You begin to lean in and up slightly closing your eyes when suddenly you feel him pull away. "Sorry..." He mumbles before walking away from you leaving you on the dance floor by yourself. To say your heart didn't ache would be a lie.

[hanniiesuckle17]

Milk

A/n: This was not requested but I hope you feel better piper <3 I love you! This is for you :) (This is not thoroughly edited like always)

Tag List: @distrikt9​ @mini-meanhoe​ @leggomylino​ @hanstagrams​ @desertofdessert​ @hoes4hoseok​ @yangomangos​ @jeonqqin​ @geminirules​ @crscendoforsung​ @mrsunshine999​ @jisungsjheekies​ @hannie-squirrel00​ @cotccotc​ @kodzu-ken​ @skzwriternet​

Warnings: just fluffy shy seungmin

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: After moving into a apartment building, Y/n finds a new friend in the stray cat in the alley behind her. She doesn’t realize someone has been admiring her kindness to the animal from afar. Sometimes a small act of kindness leads to a happiness that can last a life time. 

Genre: fluff, romance, strangers to lovers, neighbor!au, fem reader

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Living in a tiny rundown apartment building was not my first choice. Nor was it my second or third or fourth or fifth or two hundredth. But being a struggling student living on my own for the first time didn’t leave me with many other options. The room was cheap and had all the amenities I needed. There was a bus line to the college only a short walk away. An added bonus was the fried chicken place just a few blocks away from the building. 

But, the heating often cut out. My landlord was less than kind. The couple living above me procreated like rabbits and the ceiling did nothing to muffle the noise. The neighbors next door were quiet for the most part. I had yet to meet the tenants in the rooms on either side. 

With the spring semester just around the corner, students flocked to the class registers. Spots filled up quickly leaving me with early morning classes. What a bummer. I was not the biggest morning person. I preferred to stay up at night and sleep until I physically couldn't anymore. 

Sleepily pulling my shoes on, I grabbed my backpack and walked out the door. The sun had just risen and a still orange pink glow was cast over the small cramped street. A small sound had me turning my head towards the alley next to my apartment building. 

Having a few minutes to spare before my bus arrived, I peeked around the corner searching for the sound. Just as I was about to turn around, a cat peeked its head out from behind the building’s dumpster. It slinked around the metal container, its thin body shifting from side to side as it walked. 

“Hi, there little guy!”

Slowly and carefully I approached the stray. It had spotted gray and white fur practically clinging onto its bones. It watched me with fear in its dull blue eyes. The small creature flinched as I reached out my hand for it to smell. It eyed me for a few moments before backing away and hiding under the dumpster. 

“Okay bud...that’s okay. When I come back I’ll bring you a little treat!”

As I was walking away, a sound from above made me jump. Looking up I saw a window on my story close, long slender fingers pulling it in. Thinking nothing of it I turned around and made my way to the bus stop. In my mind I made a mental note to pick something up to give to the little cat in the alley. 

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The shop bell rang as I exited the establishment. It was already beginning to get dark and the streetlights were casting a yellow golden glow in circles on the cramped street. Plastic bag in hand I walked back towards home, the scent of fresh fried chicken floating up to my nose. 

As I approached the building instead of going in I walked passed and turned down into the alley. The street lamp cast a small glow allowing me to see through some of the dark shadows. 

“Here kitty kitty! Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Hearing a can roll across the pavement I saw the thin feline emerge from under the trash container. Its ears twitched and its nose rose in the air smelling the fried food I carried. Crouching to its level I stayed in the lightest part of the alley and pulled out a piece of the fried chicken I had picked up only a few minutes ago. 

Intriguided by the food, the cat slowly inched its way to the oustretched snack. It sniffed the chicken before it’s pale pink nose brushed over my finger taking in my scent. Staying perfectly still I let it nibble on the chicken for a moment. “You’re too cute.” Seeing the cat begin to struggle with the food, I pulled it back and starting tearing it into pieces for him. 

“What should I call you little guy?” 

The cat’s fear of me seemed to have disappeared as he snacked on the chicken. Hesitantly, I reached out and stroked his head only receiving a tiny flinch from the animal. “You’re quite small aren’t you?” The cat continued to eat the chicken with vigor. Grabbing a bottle of water and a paper plate from the restaurant, I poured some for the cat to drink. “How about Makki?” 

The gray cat already looked much happier than when I had first seen him this morning. As I reached out to stroke his fur, he did not flinch away. “Do you like chicken Makki?” He let out a gravely meow before turning back to his grand meal. 

My fingers felt the grooves of his ribs as I pet his side. I smiled feeling Makki’s rough tongue over my other hand. My attention was dragged away from the cat when I heard the scuff of a shoe not far away. At the entrance of the alley looked a boy maybe my age. His body faced the building but his eyes stayed trained on me over the black mask he wore. 

His shaggy brown hair had a golden glint under the street light. His hands were tucked firmly in his jean pockets giving him a cold sort of look. Lifting my hand from Makki’s back I shyly waved to the boy. As if he came out of a trance, the boy walked away from the alley on his resumed path. 

Choosing to ignore the awkward encounter (I admit that it would be weird to see a girl just sitting in an alley with a cat), I watched Makki finish off the pieces I tore. He rubbed up against my legs and let me scratched his ears. 

“Okay, Makki! I’ve got an essay to write. I’ll bring you some breakfast tomorrow, okay buddy?” With a sad meow, he tried to follow me out of the alley but sat at the entrance and watched me walk into the building.  I watched him list his head from the alley and gave him a little wave goodbye before going in for the night.

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After a few months of taking care of him, Makki was basically my own. Every morning and every night without fail I would stop by and spend time with Makki. When I could afford it, I brought him chicken. He seemed to always love that. 

As finals inched closer, I couldn’t see him as much as I wanted to. Studying took up most of my nights and I was forced inside my tiny apartment, headphones only half blocking out the noise from the faulty pipes and my upstairs neighbors. 

One night I glanced over at the clock seeing it was only 10:00 pm. “I have some left overs I’m sure Makki would like.” Aware that I needed a break, I got up and stretched before heating up some leftover dinner for my little cat. Slowly he had gotten to a healthy size and I could no longer see his ribs under his spotted gray and white coat. I didn’t have to keep feeding him, but Makki seemed like my only friend as of late. 

Grabbing a bowl and filling it with water I ventured downstairs and into the lobby. A slightly familiar face was entering the building doors, keys in hand. He looked up, our eyes meeting. Those dark, almost black, eyes looked familiar, reminding me of a puppy. The brunette’s eyes widened in recognition seeing me. The boy from the street. He had a handsome face, the light locks highlighting the angles and tone of his features. In all honesty he was more than likely the most handsome man I had ever seen. 

He looked me up and down before his soft eyes fell onto the dishes in my hand. When his eyes returned he gave me a small smile and a hesitant wave. Without another word he walked past me up the stairs. 

Using my shoulder to open the door, the cool spring night air greeted me. My shoes scraped against the downhill pavement as I turned the corner into the alley. To my surprise, Makki sat in the middle of the backstreet, drinking from a saucer full of milk. Beside the bowl was a plate with little pieces of fried food. Inching closer, I saw it was fish. 

Someone had already fed him.

“Hey, buddy!” Makki greeted me with a friendly meow brushing up against my legs. “Looks like someone already fed you, huh?” I asked in confusion. No one had ever shown interest in him before. Why had they started to take care of Makki now?

Pursing my lips, I set down the dishes and watched Makki eat and drink, petting him occasionally. “Their supper is a little but better than mine, huh?” He only responded my digging in more to the fish. “I’ll bring you chicken next time, Makki.” I watched him eat the food before the slender cat climbed into my lap, begging for me to pet him. 

It was getting late and Makki was practically falling asleep in my lap. I had already asked my landlord if I could bring him inside, but Mr. Kwon hated pets. Carefully putting Makki on the makeshift bed I had made him out of a thrown out chair, I brushed myself off before looking at the mostly clean dishes on the ground. 

Logically, whoever fed Makki would have to come back for the dishes. Finding a semi clean piece of paper and grabbing the pen in my pocket I wrote a little note to the kind soul who helped out my little cat. ‘Thank you for taking care of Makki! It means a lot. - Apt.306B’. Placing the note in the dry milk saucer, I left the alley to go back to my essay. 

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For the next few nights every time I went down to fed Makki, a bowl of milk and usually a small plate of food was already there. Curiosity eating me up, I decided to catch Makki’s mystery feeder. 

The next night, forgoing my term paper, I parked myself at my window overlooking the alley. Finally the sun went down and I watched from my slightly air conditioned perch for the kind soul feeding my feline child. Just as I was losing hope a head of light brown hair rounded the corned into the back alley, a bowl of milk in hand. 

“I GOT HIM! YES!” I cheered. “I got you! I got you!” I sang dancing around. Rushing out the door, I took the stairs two at a time just to burst out the lobby doors onto the street. Out of breath but with a smile I rounded the corner, hand holding me steady on the brick wall of the building. 

“So it was you!” I said happily, scaring the boy crouched down next to Makki. Those same dark puppy like eyes looked up at me in surprise. He seemed at a loss for words, frozen, long slender fingers over over the cat’s head. “I never would have guessed! I mean that day in the lobby, maybe, but it just didn’t cross my mind.” 

The boy continued to stare at me, less in shock now, but the expression I could not decipher. “Um...I’m from apartment 306.” I smiled seeing Maki next to the boy drinking the white treat. Giving him a kind smile, I reached out my hand for him to shake. 

Shyly, he took my hand and shook it. “Yeah...I know.” Under the yellow glow of the street light I looked over his handsome features once more. “I’m...uh...I’m 304.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. After all this time, this was how I met my next door neighbor. “Finally I get to meet you. I’ve been wondering who was living next door.” The boy seemed to relax, letting out a small laugh. “What’s your name?” 

He seemed surprised as I moved to sit down next to him. Makki climbed into my lap and on instinct I started scratching his ears. “Seungmin, Kim Seungmin. And you?”

“Y/n L/n.” 

I laughed as he awkwardly moved to shake my hand again. “He’s really a good cat.” Seungmin said petting Makki’s gray fur. I nodded and turned to see Seungmin already looking at me. 

“Why did you start feeding him by the way?”

The handsome boy shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “This is going to sound way creepy. I swear it was a coincidence.” Urging him to continue with a smile, I continued stroking Makki’s head. Occasionally my arm brushed up against Seungmin’s as it moved. “I actually saw you from my window. Then we ran into each other on the street that night.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question Seungmin.” I would be lying if I said that his smile didn’t make my heart skip a beat. It melted even more seeing him pet the almost sleeping cat in my lap.

“Yeah about that.” His long finger reached up and scratched his brow before returning to Makki’s ears. “That night I just thought you were really, really pretty. I liked seeing how kind you were to the cat and watching you play with him.” His hand accidentally brushed mine and his cheeks reddened. They darkened even more when I didn’t pull away.

“Go on,”

“One day you stopped coming. I figured something came up because you cared about the cat so much. So, I just tried feeding him. I got scratched more than a few times in the beginning.” Seungmin laughed, instinctively rubbing his arms where Makki must have nicked him. “Eventually he warmed up to me and I saw why you loved him so much. Then you left me that note. It was by far the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Well you certainly are not what I expected to find when I wanted to search for Makki’s secret milk source.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever bought so much milk.”

The two of us laughed and continued to sit and talk in the alleyway. “Thank you again, for feeding him while I had term stuff.” Seungmin shrugged and looked over at me. 

“It was nothing.” It was hard to stifle the laugh at his attempt of being nonchalant. “You know, I could talk to Mr. Kwon about letting you bring Makki into the building...” 

My eyes widened and I instinctively hugged my cat to my chest. “Really! You would do that? Wait- how would you even do that. That man has zero soul. Like no soul at all. Completely soulless.”

He chuckled at my joke, brown hair blowing gently in the night breeze. “I have my ways. If I do...would you do something for me?” His bright smile lit up the night watching me nod excitedly. “Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow?”

Seungmin seemed to hold his breath waiting for my answer. “Are you asking me or are you saying that is your condition for talking to Mr. Kwon?” Seungming squinted his eyes and looked off into the distance for a moment in thought.

“Oh.....you’re right.......You will have dinner with me tomorrow.”

“Woah, slow down there, buddy. I barely know you!” 

“Arrrrghhh,” Seungmin groaned covering his face and lying on the cement in frustration. I couldn’t help but laugh at his vexation. “Why is asking you out so hard?”

“I’m just teasing. Of course I’ll get dinner with you.” With a sigh of relief, Seungmin sat up with a smile. “With a face like that who spends that much milk money on someone else’s cat, how could I not want to go out with you?” Seungmin helped me up from the ground, holding onto my hand even when I was standing. 

“Good. Cause I was very nervous you’d say no.”

“Look at me. I’ve fallen for the milk man,” Seungmin groaned at my terrible joke but kept out hands intertwined as we walked back into the building with Makki under my arm. I had never been filled with more joy than in that moment. 

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Masterlist

[n-ctarinenga]

Rose Coloured Boy [ luke hemmings ]

surfer!luke au | pt.2 [ read first ]| word count: 4,914 | masterlist

From the moment you opened your eyes, you knew something about the day was off.

It had been a couple days since you spent the night at Luke’s, Calum’s ‘special friend’ having not returned after your little message through his bedroom door.

You felt bad, but Calum assured you that everything was okay, her just being a bit embarrassed about the previous evenings. You did your best to believe him, but also made a mental note to be extra nice to her when Calum brought her to Michael’s dinner.

The lingering feeling that you had done something mean was definitely one of the things bothering you, but for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why your mood was so up and down, nothing else obviously annoying you or giving you reason to think the day was gonna be bad.

That is, until you rolled out of bed and the bullshittery began.

It started with smaller things, not being able to find your favorite lipstick, misplacing your keys on the coffee table in the living room instead of on their usual hook beside the door, Calum having took the last of your jello cups before leaving for work himself, annoying things, but still, small annoying things.

Jumping out of the shower, you braid your hair over your shoulder to keep it out of the way, pulling your underwear, jeans and work shirt on before applying a small amount of make up to make you feel like you’d put in at least some effort for the day.

The second you walk out of the door with your bag over your shoulder, you feel like you should turn around and walk back inside again. The freak heatwave that showed up the day before doing nothing to make you happier as it felt like you instantly started sweating when you stepped out of your air conditioned apartment.

Plugging your headphones into your phone, forgetting to charge your airpods the night before, your usual casual steps today looked like an assault on the earth, your grumbling obvious to anyone who had crossed your path on the walk to work.

You expected the cool air of the cafe to make you feel better, but as you walked in and saw Ali behind the counter, you knew something was wrong.

Frowning as you walk behind the counter, you gently place a hand on her forearm as she rests on a stool beside the till.

“Everything okay hun?” You ask quietly, knowing her long enough to know that the sunny smile she shot to the customers wasn’t as full as you knew it to be.

“Not entirely.” She confesses, keeping an eye on a couple women in the corner to make sure they weren’t listening in, “this morning I got a call from my mom. Things aren't doing well with my brother and his ex wife, and it looks like the drama is finally on our doorstep." She spits bitterly. 

You'd been well aware of the situation Ali was talking about, having been her confidant for the last few months as the strenuous process of divorce meant her older brother was now living at home with their mom again, bringing his troubles with him. 

Sighing, you hug Ali and rest your head on her shoulder, letting her know you’re there for her. “You just say the word and I'll call Mali or Kaykay in to come help. I know how important your family is to you.” You tell her as you pull back.

This makes her smile, and you offer her a friendly grin as you pat her back before walking out the back to put your bag down. As you place your keys into your bag and hang it on the wall, you take a deep breath. What was bothering you obviously wasn’t serious if you couldn’t even figure out what it was, and at least you didn’t have to deal with the situation Ali did.

That is, until her brother's ex wife walked through the door before the lunch time rush. A few people were already trickling in, and as you saw her pass the shop window, you shot a look at Ali, nodding your head towards out the back in your silent way of telling her you’d deal with it this time.

You were nice to all the customers, for Mali's sake, but you couldn't find it in you to be nice to the woman in front of you after hearing all the pain she'd caused your friend's family.

You take her order and put it on the board while you finish up making a coffee for the customer before her, and call out their order and name as you place the coffee down on the bar beside the counter. 

Turning around to make her coffee, you hear someone calling for your attention as you put the next lot of coffee in to brew. 

Seeing her standing there as you turn around, you frown as she holds the cup you just placed down. 

"I ordered a latte with two sugars. This coffee is black." She says with disgust in her voice, and you fight the urge to cross your arms in front of you. 

"That's because it isn't your coffee, it's that gentleman's." You signal to the man standing off to the side, a regular who was obviously annoyed. 

"I didn't order black coffee and you gave me black coffee." She protests, to what you don't have a clue. 

"I haven't made your order yet, and that drink isn't yours, it's his. You weren't meant to get that one." You explain more slowly, hoping to get through to her. 

She rolls her eyes, pushing the cup over to your side of the bar. "Just make it again and get it right this time." 

You grit your teeth, your annoyance turning quickly towards being pissed off, and do your best to bite your tongue as you turn around, remaking the man's coffee instead of hers first, handing it to him with an apology, which he accepts with a sympathetic smile. 

You make her drink as quick as possible, quality not at the front of your mind as you throw the lid on and put it on the coffee bar, calling her order and name out like any other order and praying she finally leaves the cafe. 

As she does, Ali returns from out the back, thanking you and running the till while you get busy making the coffees for all the backed up lunch orders you now had. 

It's only around an hour before closing time that Ali gets a call from her mother, letting her know she needs to come home as soon as possible. 

Seeing the worry on her face, you push back your own frustrations of the day and tell her you'll close early, you still owing her for closing on her own a couple days prior. 

She gives you a big hug before she leaves, which helps your mood slightly as you remind yourself you only have a few customers to handle before you could go home. 

You manage to survive the last hour before spinning over the sign on the door, breathing a sigh of relief as you do. You take some extra time to clean up, sweeping up and wiping down the counters ready for the clean up and baking crews that would be in during the early hours to make all the food for the day. 

Your body ached and protested against the heat as you slid the roller door down in front of the glass front of the cafe, your back straining slightly as you bend down to lock it closed. 

The walk home sees you stomping most of the way back, but not with as much gusto as your walk in this morning. You could feel the fatigue of the day clinging onto every fiber of your being, the heat only amplifying your discomfort. 

Breathing a sigh of relief as you walk into your apartment, closing the door behind you, you smile slightly as you see Calum in the kitchen, a set of tongs in his hand as the smell of honey and soy marinated chicken wafted over to you. 

"You're a sight for sore eyes." You groan happily as you make your way over to the kitchen, dropping your bag on the way and wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

You feel him laugh as you hug him, him patting your arm with his free hand as he turns what you now see as chicken kebabs in a frypan. 

"Rough day huh?" He asks. You just nod, letting go of him and leaning against the counter. 

"Go have a shower and relax a bit. These are still gonna take a while." He instructs, and you just throw out a salute to him as you walk towards the hallway, picking your bag up on the way and dropping it inside your bedroom door instead. 

You take a quick shower, annoyed to find you'd run out of shampoo, but happy to wash the sweat and grime of the day off your skin, wrapping a towel around yourself before making the short trip across the hallway from the bathroom to your bedroom. 

Taking note of the clothes sitting on the end of your bed, you realise Calum must have washed and dried the load of clothes you'd had sitting on your desk chair, and you thank your lucky stars for Calum Thomas Hood. 

You grab some underwear out of your dresser and pull it on, going through the pile and pulling out a pair of biker shorts you'd brought to be trendy, but ended up just wearing around the house, and frowned as your search for a shirt stalled as a bright yellow design on black fabric caught your eye. 

Pulling it out of the pile, you realize with slight horror that Calum had scooped up the shirt you were still yet to return to Luke as he grabbed the clothes from your chair. 

After waking up in his arms the morning after you stayed with him, your head was in too much of a spin to realise you were shoving his t-shirt into your bag as you got dressed for work, ending up bringing it with you to the cafe before finally realising where it was when you got home. Secretly, you had been wearing it to bed the last two nights as well, the smell of salt water and Luke's cologne helping you drift to sleep better than any white noise machine ever did. 

Pulling the shirt up to your face, tears spring to your eyes as you only smell laundry powder on the fabric, the calming smell that helped instantly ease you washed away. 

Truly feeling the meaning of "the straw that broke the camel's back", you feel every ounce of frustration and annoyance hit you at once, a choked sob coming out of your mouth as you let yourself sink to the floor, leaning your back up against your bed as the tears of frustration overwhelm you. 

You're not sure how long you sit there, but obviously it's long enough because sooner or later, Calum knocks on your door, opening it slowly when you don't respond. 

"Y/n….. Y/n/n dinner is ready." He calls, before stepping inside your room and seeing you sitting on the floor.

The sight in front of him is heartbreaking to him, knowing you for so long and knowing how much it took for you to get to this point. His eyebrows knitted in concern, he crouches down beside you, placing a supportive hand on your shoulder.

"Really, really rough day?" He asks, repeating his question from before. You do your best to answer him, but with your throat raw from the sobs that wracked your body, you settle for a nod instead. 

Calum sighs, not really knowing what to do. It was rare you ever got to this state, so he didn’t have much experience when it came to knowing how to cheer you up or pull you out of your feelings.

You dry your tears with the sleeve of a shirt you pull from your bed, not really caring about the tear stains soaking into the fabric as Calum puts a supportive hand on your knee. 

“I’m sorry you’re feeling like this. Do you wanna talk about it? Come out and have dinner?” He asks, and you shrug lightly.

“I’m sorry, I just wanna go to bed.” You say, quietly and tiredly. “Can you put my dinner in the fridge for me please?” You ask.

Calum nods, patting your knee before standing up again.

“You call me if you need anything, okay?” He asks, and you nod. He walks out, quietly shutting the door behind him and leaving you alone again to work through what you needed to.

Taking a deep breath, you pull yourself up, throwing back your blankets and crawling into the cocoon of your bed. You can already feel the tears soaking your pillow as you stare at the wall, matching glow in the dark stars covering it much like the ones you helped Luke put up in his bedroom.

Unknown to you, Calum hadn't moved from outside your door, worry weighing on his shoulders for easily one of his bestest friends.

He wracked his brain trying to think of what he could do. He needed help to help you. 

Taking his phone out of his pocket as he walks down the hallway back to the kitchen, Calum scrolls through his contact list, trying to figure out who to call. 

His mom? She'd have good advice, but you were a private person who probably wouldn't want your roommates mom knowing all your issues. Mali? Another good option, but also your boss. 

Calum scrolled through his phone with a frown until his eyes caught the name of the perfect person for the situation. 

Hitting call, it only takes two rings before Luke picks up his phone. 

"Gday, how's it going?" Luke answers, and Calum lets out a sigh of relief. 

"Uh, not good mate. Do you have a minute?" 

"Yeah, of course. What's wrong?" Luke asks, worry evidently growing in his voice. 

Calum quickly glances down the hall to make sure your door is still shut, lowing his tone so he's sure you couldn't hear him. 

"I went into y/n's room a minute ago to tell her dinner was ready, but when I walked in she was crying her eyes out. I know she had a rough day and I asked her if she wanted to talk, but she isn't even coming out of her room for dinner." He explains. 

On the other end of the line, Luke feels his heart drop, worry washing over him as the image Calum described made his chest ache. 

Before even thinking about it, Luke is getting off his couch, grabbing his hoodie, wallet and keys before walking out the door. 

"I'm on my way over. Thanks for calling me mate." Luke assures Calum, still on the phone with him as he locks his door behind him. 

Calum sighs in relief, both men saying their goodbyes before hanging up. 

As instructed, Calum puts your food away in the fridge, settling down in the living room for his own dinner with his girlfriend on facetime, feeling a lot better knowing Luke was on his way. 

While you and Calum were close, Calum knew that there was something on a completely different level between you and Luke. Beyond the mutual feelings you were both oblivious to, there was also an unspoken connection you two shared that people around you could pick out from a mile away, Luke and yourself joking more than once that you were actually soul mates.

Sometimes, it was hard not to believe. 

Luke is convinced he hasn't skated so fast in his life as he stands outside your apartment door, breath coming in short bursts as he texts Calum to let him in. 

Inside, Calum sees the text notification at the top of his screen, excusing himself from his girlfriend and his food to jog to the door, opening it with a smile and pulling Luke into a quick hug before pulling back. 

"She's still in her room." Calum lets him know, giving him a pat on the back. 

Luke nods his thanks, gently walking down the hallway before stopping outside your door. 

Taking a deep breath, he knocks once, three times, then twice. 

You frown as you hear the all too familiar knocking pattern on your door, dragging your hands under your eyes to wipe away your tears as you roll over, facing the door that slowly opens to reveal the man that makes your heart burst. 

"Luke?" You question, your voice worn from emotion as you sit up slightly, resting on your elbows. 

No matter how much Luke tried to mentally prepare himself, it felt like he could never ready his heart to see your tear stained cheeks and frowning face meet his. 

Before Luke could even say hello, a disappointed look crosses your face as you will your voice not to break. 

"You should go hang out with Calum." You say, laying down again and pulling your blanket up to your chin as you roll over again. 

You assume Luke has done as he's told as you head your bedroom door shut, but you're proven wrong when you hear his wallet and keys kit your desk, the bed dipping behind you as you feel him sit down. 

"You know I'm not gonna leave you alone while you're like this." Luke states, quietly but affirmatively. 

You wish you could respond to him, fight for your point, anything, but the energy to do so escapes you completely. 

Looking down at you as you stare at the wall again, he tries to think of the best thing to do to help you. He knew you weren't much of an emotionally verbal person, so asking if you wanted to talk probably wouldn't get him an answer he would be satisfied with. 

Glancing around, he stands up, and you feel the warmth of his body leave the space behind you. You hear him move around the room, walking from one side to the other, before the slide of vinyl against paper, soon followed by the opening notes of the 1975's first album, one of your all time favourites. 

Your bed dips behind you again as Luke sits down, but this time you feel the covers lifting too. You feel an aching feeling in your chest as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in closer to him as his head rests behind yours, the sensation of his breath light on your neck. 

 Still without the energy to speak, you instead move your arm from where it rested beside your head to lay it over the top of his, giving his hand a squeeze as you laid in his arms. 

You lose track of time as the tears start to slow, drying on your face and pillowcase as you find yourself sinking into Luke, his steady breathing helping you level out your own. 

After a while, you feel like your body has awoken again, suddenly regaining feeling of your fingers, your toes. You know you look a sight, but slowly you roll over in his arms, burying your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around him. 

"Thank you." You say quietly, barely loud enough for him to hear. 

With your head against his chest, Luke knows you can hear his heartbeat race faster, happy to hear you finally speak again, and the feeling of having you curled into him. 

Luke would happily spend the rest of his life in this position with you, but instead he leans forward, one hand on the side of your face as he presses a kiss to the top of your head before pulling back, using his hand to hold your face to look at him. 

"Do you think you could handle having something to eat?" He asks, hand still trailing patterns onto your back. 

You think for a moment before nodding, feeling the absence of food as you're reminded of its existence. 

Luke kisses your head again before sliding out of your bed, slowly pulling you upright with him. It takes a moment for you to feel comfortable on your feet again, holding onto Luke's hand for stability. 

Noticing you were wearing his shirt, Luke smiles to himself as you squeeze his hand, sniffling slightly. 

"You go wash your face, make yourself feel better, and I'll heat up your dinner, okay?" He instructs, and you nod as you wipe your face with the back of your hand. 

Splitting up, you walk across the hall to your bathroom as Luke heads into the kitchen, noticing Calum must have gone to bed a while ago. 

While you wet a washcloth to dab at your face, you try not to look at the state of your reflection, knowing it would probably only make you feel worse. As you take a deep breath, you can hear the microwave in the kitchen come to life, and you look to the ceiling as you thank whatever higher power gifted someone like Luke into your life. 

Your heart ached as you thought of the man in the next room, but you pushed the thoughts aside as to not start off a new wave of tears. 

Tidying yourself up, you twist your hair into a braid to keep the most part of your hair out of your face, dabbing on a small amount of moisturizer to help out your reddened skin before you walk out of the bathroom. 

The smell of the food hits you instantly, and your mouth waters as you walk down the hallway, steps quiet as you notice Calum's door shut and light off, his slight snore being able to be heard from the hall.

As you turn into the kitchen, you see Luke placing a single plate onto the table, loaded with white rice and chicken kebabs that Calum had put aside for you.

"Bon appetite." Luke smiles as he sees you walk in, pulling your seat out for you. 

You feel yourself smile for the first time tonight, and sit down, letting him push you into the table, but frowning again as you notice you're about to eat alone. 

"Grab you a plate, I can't eat all of this myself, and I know you're hungry too." You insist. 

Luke hesitates for a moment, before walking over to a cabinet and pulling a plate out for himself. When he places it down beside you, you load a solid half of your food onto his plate. 

Sitting down together, you eat in peaceful silence, thankful for Calum's cooking skill and the man sitting beside you. 

You and Luke wash and dry the dishes together after your meal, and as he hangs the dish towel back on the front of the stove, you wrap your arms around him, resting your head on his back as you squeeze him tightly. 

"Thank you. For everything." 

Luke squeezes your hands that link in front of him before you let go, letting him turn around and lean on the counter as he faces you. 

"How are you feeling?" He asks, and you think for a moment before speaking. 

"Better. A lot better. Not so tired, not so hungry, not so sad. Today just… was shitty times a thousand til you showed up." You laugh lightly. "How about you?" 

Luke smiles as he raises his eyebrow slightly. "Good, not tired, not hungry, very happy to help." He replies. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Luke's board beside your own at the front door, and you tilt your head slightly before looking back to him. 

"Did you skate over here?" You ask, and he smiles again as he looks down to the floor with a nod. 

You feel a sense of pride at this news, feeling good that he was finally comfortable enough to travel distance on his board. 

"Hey," he says, head popping up to look at you as an idea strikes him, "do you wanna go for a skate? Get some fresh air?" He asks. 

You feel a large and genuine smile cover your face at his question, and nod furiously, a wave of joy washing over you at just the thought. 

You grab your shoes from the rack beside the door and plant yourself down beside it, tying your laces while Luke does the same, lightly knocking you with his knee on his way down, making you laugh. 

Doing up your laces, you sit back for a moment as you wait for Luke to finish doing his, and in that moment, you feel everything around you start to slow. 

You feel your heart beating harder than it did before, as you focus on the man beside you, the small grin lingering on his face, loose curls falling over his forehead, how close his body sits next to yours. 

The nights previous events flash through your mind, remembering how he knew exactly the way to comfort you without even knowing what was going on, how your bodies fit perfectly together as you laid in your bed, sitting beside him at dinner and stealing a glance at him any chance you could get, how he kissed your head and made you feel calm, protected, loved. 

You loved him. You truly, deeply loved him. 

"Luke?" You say quietly, just enough to get his attention and before you can catch yourself as you start to hear your racing heart in your own ears. 

Hearing you say his name, his head pops up, his eyes looking straight into yours. You feel like all the air has left the room, as your impromptu decision makes your hands start to shake. 

Sitting with his knee touching yours, your shoulders close together, your eyes flick down to his lips for barely a moment, before you carefully place your hand on the side of his face, gently holding it as you lean towards him, and connect your lips to his. 

Time stops altogether for you as you feel the shock of the situation stun Luke, before his hands make their way to your face, holding you like the most delicate thing on earth as he kisses you back, a breath he's been holding for years finally leaving his lungs. 

White hot heat runs through your skin everywhere you feel his touch, and as you pull back only the slightest distance to allow you both a breath, you can't help but think you could easily spend the rest of your life drowning in him. 

Your hand falling to the side of his neck, you lean your forehead against his as your eyes flicker open, his blue eyes reminding you of the ocean he so adored, but as they looked back at you, they held more adoration than you had ever seen him feel towards the sea. 

"Hi." He says quietly, pressing a shorter, but none less intense kiss to your lips. 

Smiling into it, you pull back just enough to let out a small laugh. 

"Hey." You smile back, reattaching your lips and letting your hand tangle in the hair falling over the back of his neck while one of his moved to your waist to pull you closer. 

"Fucking finally!!" 

You nearly headbutt Luke as the loud voice behind you scares you out of your skin, your instant reaction to spin around and fall back into his chest as you see Calum standing in the hallway with a huge grin on his face. 

"Jesus, Calum!" You yell, your heart pounding out of your chest for a different reason now. 

Luke lays his head on your shoulder, and you can feel him laughing behind you as his arms wrap around you, holding you as you start to calm down. 

"Sorry, sorry, ruined the moment, leaving now." Calum says, hands flying up in self defense as he steps into the kitchen. 

Covering your face with your hands, you let out a deep sigh as you hear the fridge open and close before you drop your hands and see Calum walking back out, heading towards his room and walking backward as he holds a caprisun and his thumbs up in your direction. 

"Love you guys, I was never here, support you fully!" He calls, slowly closing his door before shutting it completely. 

Looking over your shoulder, you see Luke sighing before meeting your gaze. 

"I think that went well." He says, a playful smile on his facing making you both burst into laughter. 

You shake your head as you climb to your feet, offering your hand to Luke, which he accepts, pulling himself up. 

As you dust yourself off, he grabs your boards, handing yours to you before opening the door. 

You nod your thanks to him as you grab your lanyard from the hook beside the door, pulling it shut and locking it behind you. 

"Hey y/n?" Luke asks, catching your attention. 

Turning around, he catches your face, a grin on his own as he gently pulls you closer. 

As your lips meet his, you feel a chill run up your spine, your hands coming up to ball into the side of his hoodie. 

God, you should have done this years ago. 

taglist: @spicycal​ @softbabiestan​ @irwinkitten​ @mrandleer​ @smalla-than-a-bugg​ @candidcal​ @lukeskisses​ 

[ohsnapitzlovehacker]

Kiss and Make Up - Colt x MC

Author’s Note: For the purposes of this fic, Riya’s birthday takes place during the summer months. Also, this is a one-shot, as always all grammar mistakes are my own, and man I wish I could find an interracial gif 😫

Summary: Izzy tries to take her mind off things while celebrating Riya’s 21st birthday. 

Word Count: ~1.5k

Rating: NSFW

tag list:  tag list: @indiacater @lovehugsandcandy @brightpinkpeppercorn @emomoustache @fucking-random1 @long-gone-girl @alegria1580 @average-sunflower @omgjasminesimone @leelee10898 @desireepow-1986​@liamzigmichael4ever @going-down-downtown @teenytinyadventurer @client-327 @fairydustandsarcasm  @choicesarehard @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @donutsgirl36 @emceesynonymroll @cellophanesheep (still not updated but y’all know the drill, tell me to add or remove ya)

Izzy hadn't spotted the birthday girl since she’d entered the party around two hours ago. Not that she expected to find Riya between the thumping and thrusting bodies on the dance floor of Phi Zeta Episolon's sorority house. Izzy never imagined her best friend would rush let alone pledge to a sorority and like it, but Izzy had never seen her happier, and even Darius liked her sisters despite his previous reservations.

Izzy’s beer sloshed in her cup as a Zeta accidentally bumped into her, roughly grinding to the music and sweating off her makeup. "Ahh, why aren't you dancing?" she yelled above the music and began to grind up on Izzy. Izzy, who'd given up trying to get a buzz, returned the stranger's antics, throwing her hands up and closing her eyes. She would have fun for Riya's sake. She would stay long enough to grab a slice of cake. She would not leave early...

Truth be told, all Izzy wanted to do was climb into bed and sleep off the disappointment from earlier in the week. She'd sworn she and her dad were finally on the same page, and Izzy had easily fallen back into sharing things with the detective again. She'd especially been excited to come home after the spring semester ended. Of course, when the subject of a boyfriend had come up, Izzy's mind flashed to Colt before her lips quirked up in a grin. It was obvious and there was no way her dad hadn't caught it. "When do I get to meet this gentleman?" Izzy had bit back a snort. Nothing about Colt screamed gentleman, and that thought quickly soured once she remembered her secret wish. Colt and her dad were the two most important guys in her life, and there was a high chance they wouldn't get along the way Izzy hoped. On top of that, she'd have to lie about a couple of things to her dad, including how they'd met, and Izzy wasn't sure she wanted to start bloating their newly-repaired relationship with untruths.

Though, as Colt had annoyingly pointed out, omission was just the same as telling a lie, and Izzy was now a pro at both. For example, Riya was the one who could now legally drink but Izzy had been throwing back various liquors and booze since she got to Langston—in moderation, of course.

Izzy pulled out her phone to reread the week-old message she'd memorized in a few seconds, effectively killing any vibe she'd had while twerking on the sorority girl.

Sorry Izz...can't make it tonight...something came up

Izzy had sat for almost an hour with her dad waiting for Colt to show up for dinner, and even though Detective Parker would never say anything, his face wore the expression of someone who's daughter had been spurned. Colt's text came an hour later, right after Izzy had begged to clean up the kitchen alone and was mid cookie dough ice cream scoop. The cold treat did nothing to cool her anger and she gave her father both his own and her serving before locking herself up in her room. She knew exactly what the "something" was, considering she'd been apart of it once upon a time.

A week had given her time to calm down, but Izzy hadn't responded and Colt hadn't called or texted back. She could wring his neck, but then she remembered she was supposed to be calm and collected and not thinking about her boyfriend while celebrating her best friend's birthday! She really needed to find Riya. Izzy dumped her drink in one of the many overflowing trash bins, and pushed her way through sweaty bodies and the lingering scent of vaper smoke, until she abruptly stopped, her mouth opening and closing.

Colt? Was here? At Riya's party? Izzy's mind couldn't conjure up a reason as to why he'd be there and was still willing her stupefied brain to work when he spotted her. Izzy felt her eyebrows scrunched together and gave up any pretenses of forgiveness. She pushed back into the crowd, in search of the restroom. "Izzy!"

She heard her name, but refused to turn back. She'd look for Riya in a minute once she iced out Colt. "Izz!" She was so close to the restroom, and a girl walked out, tapping her very pink lips and inspecting her finger. The sorority sister looked on as a hot guy in the leather jacket blocked the girl's entry to the restroom. Izzy locked eyes with her and shook her head, communicating she was alright. The girl gave the couple one last look before leaving them alone.

Izzy then turned to Colt who pressed a kiss to her cheek instead of her lips like he wanted. "Izz, are you mad at me?" He was here, in the flesh: hair slightly damped like he'd come straight from the shower, dark eyes dancing with amusement instead of their usual fire, and his hands on either side of her waist, as he boxed her against the wall. He reached up to cup her chin, his expression instantly apologetic. "Shit, you are. I'll make it up to you." Izzy pushed out his grasp. "Don't bother, it's whatever," Izzy lied, slipping into the bathroom. Colt followed, locking the door behind him.

"It's not enough you flaked on dinner last week, now you're crashing my best friend's party?" Izzy pulled herself up on the sink, pushing aside the soap dispenser and other decorations to make room for herself. It smelled faintly of weed, but other than that, the room was fairly clean. Colt stuffed his hands in his pockets, stepping up to Izzy as he bit back a smile. Her height put her just above Colt and yet it felt like he was the one towering over her. "Didn't seem like you were having much fun anyway." Izzy sighed, leaning back against the mirror. "I'm just here for the cake. And I don't know where Riya is."

Colt's hand rested on her thigh. "Darius is here, right?" Izzy looked up at the ceiling in thought, then nodded. "Yeah." Colt gave her a knowing look and Izzy's face flushed in realization. She pushed him, ignoring his laughter at her expense. "Whatever, you need to leave. I'm mad at you, as you correctly pointed out" Colt took her folded arms, sliding his hands down to hold each of hers. "I'm here now," Colt pulled her close, all teasing gone. Izzy's stomach flipped and heat rushed to other parts of her body. She gave in and kissed him in earnest now, her frustration and anger bubbling out and replaced with a deep unsated need for Colt. Her legs curled around him, and she was suddenly grateful she'd switched from jeans back into the skirt Riya had picked out.

Izzy leaned back suddenly, pushing curls from her face, surprised she had any breath left to speak. "If this is your way of making it up to me, you're gonna have to try a lot harder," Izzy smirked, but the look Colt returned flooded more heat into her system. It was a look she saw when she was on her back, hooded eyes only able to make out some of his features before Colt was inside of her, rendering her senseless. "I think I can work with that," he chuckled darkly, pushing up her skirt, and slipping his hand beneath the waistband of her panties. 

Izzy knew she was wet, but Colt's fingers wandering fingers seemed to break open a dam. He ran a finger along her slick opening and Izzy let out a shaky exhale. "Well fuck, someone missed me," Colt nipped her shoulder, easily slipping his index and middle finger inside her. Angry or not, Izzy's body responded to Colt like they'd never argued a day in their lives. Someone banged on the door, jarring Izzy, but Colt's focus remained on her. Izzy's sex pulsated around his fingers, but her organism was still painfully out of reach. "Colt..." she whimpered. Izzy wasn't sure when his mouth descended between her legs, but it didn't matter. Her world closed in on the tightly coiled pressure in her core, and she gripped the sink for support as while Colt sucked, his lips and chin glistening.

Izzy's breaths came faster as she uttered complete nonsense, praising Colt, begging him not to stop, threatening him not to stop ever. Her head fell back as her hips lurched, and Izzy wasn't sure if the stars she saw on the ceiling were real or not as she melted against the sink, just barely holding back a scream. Colt appeared above her, eyebrows quirked as if to say, "you good?" and Izzy weakly smacked his chest. Her hand lingered and with what little strength she had, she pulled Colt down on her, lips easily finding his. She felt his smile against her mouth. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Colt laughed, and the sound sent a warm tingle down her spine, among other places. "Mmm," was all she managed.

Someone banged on the door again, but Izzy felt sorry for whoever needed to use the space as she teased Colt's pants off, fully intending to demonstrate how forgiving she could be.

[something-tofightfor]

Just a Place - Part 6

Pairing: Ryan Brenner x Reader

Word Count: 7300

Rating: M (language, zest light mention)

Summary: After Jackie’s phone call, you and Ryan move forward... what comes next?

** You will not understand a darn thing in this if you haven’t read “Neon Lights”, which can be found on my masterlist page **

Author’s Note: Sorry this took such a long time to get out... I made it a little longer than normal to make up for it. 

Feel free to ask me to add you!

Tag list: @traeumerinwitzhelden @mfackenthal @songtoyou @obscurilicious @elanor-of-imladris @thesumofmychoices @suchatinyinfinity @audreychaz @benbarnestongue @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @the-blind-assassin-12 @ms-delos @lexxierave @dreams-with-thoughts @gollyderek @agentlingerie

POV: Ryan 

 In the weeks following Jackie’s call, Ryan expected you to treat him differently, despite the (mostly) calm and collected way that you’d responded when he told you that he’s spoken with her. He made an effort to do more around the house - waking up early, even on his days off, cutting the grass, offering to cook dinner, constantly cleaning up after the two of you … but every time you found him busy, you surprised him by gently pulling him away from his task, shaking your head and wrapping your arms around him. “Ry, you don’t need to…” But he’d always shake his head, jaw set firmly. Yes, I do. He didn’t know why he felt guilty, or had the need to prove to you that he was staying, but he did, almost like he’d disrespected you by telling Jackie so much, by giving her insight into the way he’d spent the better part of a year and a half. It was none of her business. And so Ryan kept busy, made himself useful around the house, and waited for the feeling to pass, even though you seemed to get over it long before he did. 

 Your routines didn’t change; he worked with David throughout the week, played out at night, taught lessons (Ryan had three students, a boy and two girls, and all were improving), and spent his free time playing guitar. You, on the other hand had taken a few local jobs doing portrait sessions, and had left to go to Maine for four days, photographing the changing leaves, leaving Ryan at home at the beginning of October. He’d wanted to go with you, simply because he wanted to see the trees himself, but David hadn’t been able to give him the time off, and so Ryan spent the time alone focused on writing, his hands only leaving his guitar when he was eating, sleeping or working his day job. 

 He had enough material for an EP, enough songs to play almost an entire set of original music, and yet Ryan couldn’t stay away from the classics, couldn’t stop his fingers from picking out the songs he knew like the back of his hand, the words from tumbling out of his mouth. This shouldn’t be the case. It had gotten worse after you’d come home and found him singing in the kitchen while he cooked, and Ryan’s live sets had turned away from his original music and back toward the tried and true classics - which people still seemed to love.

 He hadn’t played Southbound since the night Jackie called, unwilling to let the memory of writing the song on Jackie’s front porch, or of sharing the unfinished lyrics with her taint the mood that he played in, and even though he missed it, it felt right to cut it. I’ll play it again, someday. But Ryan’s focus on playing the music that he loved navigated him through, leading him to an important realization: he wanted to record songs, but he wanted to record them out of a studio, with the people that they mattered to. 

 You were cleaning up after dinner with him about a week before Halloween, the two of you moving through the kitchen while a cold rain fell outside, splattering against the windows when Ryan finally opened his mouth to tell you his idea. “Hey.” You stopped what you were doing and Ryan watched as you wiped your wet hands on a towel before walking over to him, a smile on your face. 

 “Yeah?” You hopped up onto the table, crossing your legs. “What’s up, Ryan?” He stepped over to you after taking a breath, waiting. Why are you nervous? 

 “I’ve been thinkin’,” he started, tongue wetting his lips. “I… want to record some songs.” You widened your eyes, inhaling. “But… I don’t wanna record in a studio. I want…” He shook his head, feeling as you reached out, hand sliding down his forearm until you were gripping his fingers, giving them a gentle squeeze. “I’ve been writing.” He paused. “A lot.” You nodded, still silent, giving him a chance to get his thoughts out. “And there are things that I want to record on my own, and I want to have them, but it’s always… singin’ and playin’ with other people has always been what I’ve loved the most.” You nodded and Ryan continued. “We’re not stayin’ here forever, and I thought that… maybe on our way to wherever we’re goin’ next, we could… meet up with some of my friends so that I can…” He trailed off, suddenly feeling very self conscious, and Ryan attempted to pull his hand from yours. I… this is stupid. 

 “Do you want to record your own music, or do what Georgie wanted to do, and record older stuff?” You tilted your head to the side, genuine curiosity on your face. “Because, Ryan, I think that-”

 “Both.” He spoke without pause, chest rising and falling. “I want to record both.” But how? His friends were scattered throughout the country; some as far south as New Orleans, others all the way up in Michigan’s upper peninsula, even some right up against the ocean in Oregon and California. There’s no way to get them all. “Everyone’s got a different style, and I want to… I think I need to … it’s all going to sound different, do you understand?” You quietly waited, uncrossing your legs and Ryan stepped forward between them, lowering your joined hands to the surface of the table and raising his free one to grip the side of your neck, thumb tucked behind your ear. “I could record the same song with each one of them, and it would be different, even my playin’ and singin’, because…”

 “Because you’d be responding to the way that they perform.” He could feel you speaking beneath his palm and he nodded. She gets it. “Do you want to stop in a studio with all of them?” You frowned, but it wasn’t an unkind expression. “Wouldn’t booking time be hard unless you knew when you’d be there exactly?” Yeah, it would. 

 “Some of ‘em, yeah. Some of ‘em deserve to be in a studio, but… no. I think I’d want to record in a more… natural setting?” He slid his hand down to your shoulder, shaking his head. “It’s just a thought now, an idea, but…” Ryan closed his eyes. “It’s what I want to do.” He nodded. “I know we’ll be here until spring at least, but… when we go next, I can… we can…” 

 “We can figure it out, Ry.” You spoke quietly, pulling your hand from his and reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. “You’ve got time, you can plan something out.” You sighed and he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours and feeling you curl the tips of your fingers against the back of his head. “You don’t just have to show up and hope for the best.” He pulled away as he realized you were right, that it wasn’t about luck or the right timing anymore. “But if you need to go, Ryan, you can. I don’t want you to think that you need to stay here, to be here, to…”

 “No.” He shook his head. “No, planning is important. I can figure out where we can… what we can do on the way to wherever it is that you...we decide to go.” You tugged him down again and Ryan leaned into the kiss, feeling you sigh against him as his hand flattened against your back. “You wanna meet some of my friends?” He breathed the words, mouth hovering over your ear. “See a little bit of my past?” I want that. 

 “Yeah, Ryan.” You nodded, scooting forward and off of the table, standing before you wrapped your arms around him, cheek pressing against his chest. “If you want me to.” He encircled you with his arms, inhaling as he kissed the top of your head. “They all gonna hate me as much as Georgie did?” Despite the serious nature of the question, Ryan laughed, squeezing your body tightly. 

 “No, they won’t. They’re all different from him.” He stood there with you, sure of his words and even more sure of what he wanted to do. “Will you help me plan this out?” Pulling back to look up at him, you grinned, eyes bright. 

 “Of course, Ryan.” 

 --- 

POV: You 

 The beginning of November on the west coast was totally different than the beginning of November on the east coast, and while you liked living in South Carolina, you were happy to be in California - and even happier that Ryan had been able to come with you. “Hey!” He was waving his arm at you from a few yards away, a grin on his face. “I got a table.” As you walked closer, he sat, reaching out for the drink holder that you had in your hands. “Thank you.” You eased into your seat and bit your lower lip, looking past Ryan and out toward the water where hundreds of boats were docked. “What are you looking at?” He turned to look too, eyes moving over the masts and sails. “Have you ever been here before?” 

 “Once. I’ve been to a lot of coastal California cities, but San Francisco isn’t one of the ones that I’ve had the opportunity to explore.” You shrugged, pulling your hood up so that the back of your neck was covered. “We’ve got a few days now, though, and so…” He nodded and you smiled, reaching for your burger. “You seem excited.” Ryan nodded his head in agreement through a huge bite of hamburger, gesturing with his free hand. 

 “Never without my guitar, though.” He swallowed, taking a long drink through his straw. “Feels weird not to have it, but I needed a break.” I agree. Ryan had been playing feverishly for weeks, writing and recording music at an almost breakneck pace. He had hours of recordings saved on your laptop, and as an early Christmas present to him, you’d gotten him a nice studio microphone for his guitar and another for his vocals, and he’d splurged on an expensive pair of headphones. He’d used them more than you expected, sometimes closing himself in the office until late into the night and then crawling into bed with you, his voice hoarse from singing as he whispered goodnight and that he loved you, pulling you close to him. His hands… 

 Ryan’s fingers were all calloused and rough; a sign of the fact that he was no stranger to hard work - especially on his left hand. You could always tell which of his hands was touching you, and if you were being honest, you preferred the left - the roughened fingers pressing into your skin or rubbing against it, letting you know exactly where he was and what he wanted. Those fingers, no matter where on your body they were, set you on fire, waking you up whenever he touched you. The first night with him - in the sun porch of your parents’ home in Philadelphia - you hadn’t known what to expect when he finally let go of his self control, exploring your body with those hands, but you definitely hadn’t been disappointed. You’d never been touched like Ryan touched you, and you never wanted anyone else to do it again; you didn’t know how anyone could have let him walk out of their life - but you were thankful that so many had. 

 However, on this trip, two of Ryan’s fingertips were bandaged, the middle finger bandaged heavily. 

 Two nights before your flight, after midnight, you’d heard a loud thud as the door slammed, waking you. You found Ryan in the bathroom, his hand beneath a slow stream of water in the sink, head hanging down and eyes focused on his hand. “Ry?” You rubbed sleep from your eyes, blinking. “Everything OK?” His teeth were gritted, head shaking back and forth, and you saw a small amount of blood on the sink basin. “Ryan?” You were suddenly awake, hand reaching out to his wrist in panic.

 “Tore the calluses on two of my fingers.” He spoke matter of factly, looking down. “It’s happened before, and I knew it was comin’, but I didn’t want to stop playin’.” You watched him roll his eyes in the mirror. “Looks like I won’t be pickin’ up a guitar for a few days.” Letting out the breath that you’d been holding, you slipped an arm around his waist, leaning into him. 

 “It’s OK, Ry. You’ve got a week off of work, and we’re leaving for a few days, so…” You shrugged as his right arm lifted, wrapping around your shoulders. “It happened at a … good time?” He sighed. “You know what this means, hmm?” You looked up at him, waiting until his eyes were on you before continuing. “Means you get to take an actual vacation. No work, no playing, no… worrying. Just you and me and the ocean and -”

 “And you signing a contract for another show.” Ryan’s cheeks grew pink above his beard as he smiled at you, one eyebrow going up. “The most important thing, isn’t it?” I guess so. The staggering check that you’d received in the mail about a month after the end of the Philadelphia exhibit for show’s sales had floored you, and you couldn’t believe that someone else wanted to meet with you about repeating the process. Finally making contact with Lori’s friend Andrea had resulted in her inviting you to come out and meet with her at your convenience - another surprise. Ryan had urged you to go before the end of the year, and so you’d set up the trip for the end of the first week in November, Ryan surprising you when he told you that if you wanted him to go with you, he was available. “David’s taking a few days off to spend some time with his family, and so he’s giving me the time off, too.” 

 Ryan had planned on taking a guitar with him, but the injured fingers had changed those plans, and even though you knew it was strange for him to not have the instrument on his back, you could tell that he was enjoying the freedom. “What do you want to do tonight, Ryan?” As you finished eating, you looked at him from across the table, watching as the wind blew through the ends of his hair that stuck out from beneath his hat. “We’ll still have an hour or so to walk around here before I’m supposed to be at the gallery, so the rest of the night is…” You paused. The gallery you were going to was near Telegraph Hill, but your hotel was in the Haight-Ashbury area, because when you’d booked it, Ryan had been planning on playing with locals if he could. I don’t know if he’ll still want to… “We can still go to the Panhandle, and some of those coffee shops if you want, Ryan.” He frowned, but you continued. “Just because you can’t play guitar, it doesn’t mean that  you can’t sing … or just watch.” 

 You’d watched him interact with other musicians before, seamlessly entering into performances without missing a beat, and had no doubt that he’d be able to do the same in San Francisco, but you could tell he was apprehensive about his lack of instrument and needing to rely on the strength of his voice. “It’s a little different here. I have a buddy named Cliff, so I’m gonna call him, but I don’t know, my guitar is…” 

 “Hey.” You reached over the tabletop, touching the back of his hand. “You don’t need the guitar, Ryan. Your voice is enough.” He was silent for a few moments but then nodded, resolve in his eyes. 

 “It is. I’ll call him when you’re talking with Andrea.” About that… 

 “Ryan?” You pressed your lips together, leaning in. “She… I told her you were coming out here with me, and she wants to meet you.” His eyes widened and Ryan sat up straight, taking his hat off and running his right hand through his hair. “Yeah. I should have told you earlier, but…” You shook your head. “She loved the picture of you, Ry. And I can’t blame her, I’m not surprised she wants you to be there, but if you don’t want to go, I get it.” He paused for only a second, settling his hat back on his head. 

 “Of course I’ll go.” You felt yourself relax, watching as he leaned back, fingers gripping the edge of the table. “Anything you need.” 

 --- 

 An hour and a half later, a car dropped you off in front of Andrea’s gallery, a modern looking building on Lombard Street, and Ryan reached for your hand as soon as you stepped out of the vehicle, squeezing tightly. “Thank you for coming, Ryan.” He winked at you in response, and the two of you entered the building, still hand in hand and introduced yourselves to the young man sitting behind the front desk. While you waited, you and Ryan looked around the lobby of the building, talking quietly about the paintings and photographs hanging there. These are good. Much better than mine. You frowned as you looked, feeling Ryan’s thumb circling against the side of your hand reassuringly. 

 “They’re not.” He spoke quietly. “Yours are just as good as these, if not better.” Did I say it out loud? You turned to look at Ryan, who was gazing down at you, eyes focused. “You are incredible.” Just as you were about to respond, a middle-aged woman with bright red hair stepped into the lobby, a huge smile on her face. 

 “We’ve been waiting for you two!” She stepped over, introducing herself and offering her hand to you and then Ryan to shake.“Please come and sit in my office. We’ll walk through the main gallery.” As she led you through the space - wide open, bright light filtering through the windows, you couldn’t help looking around, taking in the images. I don’t belong here. This isn’t… Philadelphia was one thing, but San Francisco? I can’t. Ryan’s fingers stayed laced with yours, keeping you grounded, but you knew that if you chewed any harder on your lower lip, you’d bleed. 

 By the time the three of you made it to Andrea’s office, a comfortable room with a small couch that she urged you and Ryan to sit on, you had a gnawing sensation in the pit of your stomach. Shouldn’t have eaten that burger. It had seemed like such a good idea to come out, to meet with her and to discuss another show, but now that you were there, that it was actually a possibility, you were filled with doubt. “Thank you for having us, ma’am.” Ryan’s quiet voice broke the silence, and you looked over, surprised to see that he’d removed his hat, tucking it into the front pocket of his hoodie. “You’ve got a real nice place here.” With his few words, your apprehension melted away, replaced by resolve. He believes in me. 

 “No, thank you for making it out here!” Andrea raised one eyebrow, grinning. “And please, don’t call me ma’am, Andrea is fine… I’ve still got a few more years to go before ma’am is fitting.” Ryan laughed and you did too, leaning back in your seat as Andrea took her place across from you, crossing her legs at the knee. “So, Lori raved about you.” Andrea nodded her head as she spoke. “Said you came in one day to speak with her, and you were so confident that she couldn’t help but give you some space.” Yeah, I guess that’s what happened. “And your photographs? I flew in to visit her before the end of the show, and I was so impressed with what I saw that I couldn’t believe it. That was your first showing?” 

 “Yeah, I mostly do work for websites and magazines, but I’ve never had work showcased like that before - all in one place.” The woman watched you intently, eyes on your face. “I was back in Philadelphia cleaning out my parents’ place, and…”

 “I read about you, about what happened to them.” Her voice softer, Andrea’s eyes narrowed in sympathy. “That had to be very difficult.” Ryan reached over, putting a hand on your knee and squeezing without prompting. “But tragedies are sometimes what we need to push us further, right?” She paused, looking down at Ryan’s hand. “And when we have people to support us?” Her smile was genuine, and she continued. “We can get through things.” Oh, if you only knew. Changing the topic, you and Andrea talked for a few minutes about the Philadelphia show, about what motivated you to take some of the shots, about how you chose what to include. Ryan was a silent observer, but his presence kept you focused, the gentle sweep of his thumb on the inside of your knee comforting. “But my real question is about Ryan here.” Andrea motioned to him with one hand, her attention shifting. “And why he was the singlular human inclusion in your first show.” 

 Ryan’s POV 

 The question surprised him, but Ryan knew that it had surprised you more. “He was the only face in there, the only person… I just want to know why.” Andrea fell silent, waiting, and Ryan did too, wanting to know what you��d say. I know part of it, but… 

 “I’ve never felt anything before like what I felt with him in Las Vegas.” Your voice wavered only once, and you continued. “That picture was taken on the night before I left the city… before I left Ryan.” You shook your head and looked over at him, a sad smile on your face. “I was just trying to take a picture of him that would do him justice, that would show people how I saw him, even after only a few days of knowing him.” You looked down at your lap, reaching out with a hand to place it over Ryan’s, his flipping to make it easier. “I’d just met him, but it was like we’d known each other for years.” You looked up at Andrea, shrugging your shoulders. “He was proud of himself, and I was proud of him, too. Even though I didn’t know whether or not we’d ever see each other again after I left Vegas, I’d always have that moment, that memory.” The redhead nodded. “And I wanted people to see it, because at the time that I was putting the show together, we’d fallen out of contact.” 

 “I lost my phone,” Ryan said sadly. “I used to jump trains, and I slipped and lost it, and had no way of getting ahold of her.” Andrea’s face fell sympathetically, and Ryan continued. “It was a hard couple of months.” That’s putting it mildly. 

 “So I picked that picture, because… Ryan was the brightest part in some really dark moments of my life, and even if I didn’t have him, I’d… had him, just for a few days.” You trailed off. “I wanted to make him for everyone else what he was for me - larger than life, almost unreal. I wanted to remember him forever.” His heart thudded in his chest as the room went silent, and Ryan fought with himself not to grab you and kiss you on the couch. You can’t do that, Brenner. 

 “Anyone can take a photograph. Buildings and scenery and landscapes and all that… it’s easy.” Andrea spoke quietly, nodding her head slowly. “But it takes skill to capture that - a person, someone that’s basically a stranger - the way that you did with Ryan.” Andrea brought her eyes back up, looking at you and Ryan fought back a grin. Here we go. “I’ve been with my wife for over a decade, and we’ve taken thousands of pictures of each other, and none of them are like that.” Her eyes moved to Ryan. “I felt like I knew you looking at that picture, Ryan. That single moment was enough.” He nodded once, lip twitching into the barest of smiles. “So we’ve got an exhibit that’s ending at the beginning of the year, and a new one that opens at the end of January.” Andrea paused, leaning in. “That one ends in May.” Taking a breath, she tilted her head to the side. “Would six months be enough for you to go through your current work and take some new pictures so that you could open next June?” 

--- 

 He’d excused himself while you and Andrea went over the basics of a contract and a schedule, stepping out onto the front steps of the gallery and pulling his phone out. He called his friend, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk as they spoke, and made plans to meet up later that evening, Ryan explaining that he hadn’t brought his guitar. “Dude, it’s fine.” Cliff’s laugh through the phone comforted Ryan, and he exhaled. “You can still sing, it’s no big deal. This is so casual.” After only a few minutes, he hung up, looking around. Even if you stayed in South Carolina for a few extra months at the end of your current lease, you’d still be out by the time your exhibit opened, onto the next place, and Ryan figured you’d want to move away from the coast, settling somewhere in the Midwest. There has to be somethin’ that we can do, some way that we can find a place. 

 Before he could get too lost in his thoughts, the front door of the gallery opened and you stepped out, Andrea close behind. “Thank you again for coming.” She was grinning. “I’ll have our legal team finalize that contract and then send it over for you to look at.” You nodded, reaching out to shake the woman’s hand again as you thanked her. “And Ryan?” He licked his lips as he looked at Andrea, feeling you step next to him. “Take care of her.” I will. He grinned too, reaching out to shake the woman’s hand. “I hope you’ll come out here with her again when she’s setting up.” 

 “Plan on it.” He ducked his head, kissing the top of yours, and as you pulled him away from the gallery, both of you were silent until you’d crossed the street, turning the corner. “Well?” He spoke when you stopped, interrupting as you reached into your purse for your phone to call another Uber. “Everything good?” You didn’t answer right away and Ryan reached out, putting his hands on your shoulders, waiting. When you looked up at him, he saw the excitement in your eyes before you’d even spoken, the doubt all but gone. 

 “Yeah, Ryan, I’m… I’ve got a second show, and she wants me to have at least 200 images, and - “ Ryan moved, cutting you off with a kiss that started out slow, one hand leaving your shoulder and moving to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. You parted your lips for him, and he angled his head, drawing you closer. He could taste the mint on your breath from the mouthwash you’d used before getting into the first Uber, and though Ryan wanted to keep kissing you, he pulled away, taking a deep breath. “What was that for?” Everything. 

 “For bein’ you,” he replied simply. “For bein’ honest with Andrea… for always lookin’ at me like you could see me instead of just lookin’ through me like everyone else did.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke again, pulling you to his chest and hugging you tightly. “You coulda just watched a song and moved on like everyone else, but you didn’t. You stopped and you took a minute and you didn’t just see a guitar or hear a voice.” Ryan paused, closing his eyes and wrinkling his nose. “It’s like I’ve always been more to you, even when I wasn’t.” 

 “You were,” you replied quietly, taking a deep breath and shuddering. “Even before I knew you, knew your name, knew… who you were, you were more.” You shrugged, shaking your head and leaning forward, resting your forehead against his chest. “You were what I wanted to be but never found, Ryan. You… I couldn’t walk by. How could anyone?” I donno. Ryan’s hands moved up from your back, holding your face between them as he shook his head slowly back and forth. 

 “No idea. But I’m glad you didn’t.” You smiled, turning your head slightly to kiss the heel of his hand, eyes closing as your lips lingered on his skin. It’s that simple. “I love you.” He felt warm - like he did every time he got to look at you and say those words, and Ryan continued, urging you to look back at him. “You still wanna go to the Panhandle tonight?” A nod, your eyes full of light, and he tightened his fingers marginally, applying pressure to the area right behind your jaw. “Good. I got ahold of Cliff, we can meet him at seven.” 

 “Ry?” He hummed a response, watching you blink slowly at him. “It’s only 3:30, can we go back to the room for a while?” 

 ---

POV: You 

 After the stifling heat on the East coast, you were thrilled that you had a few days worth of cooler weather to enjoy. After you and Ryan had returned to the hotel room, where he’d eased you down into the bed and thoroughly congratulated you on the new exhibit, you’d napped, waking only when you heard the shower running. Joining him and playfully slapping his hands away in order to be sure that both of you actually showered so that you could meet his friends on time, you spent the entire shower watching him out of the corner of your eye and appreciating the way that the soapy water ran down his long, lean body. 

 “Jeans and boots?” Ryan was in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.” You laughed, looking up at him as you tugged the zipper of your boot up, hair hanging in a single sheet over your shoulder. 

 “You’ve never seen me in cold weather clothes, Ryan Brenner.” You stood, cocking your head to the side. “I live in jeans and boots in the fall and winter.” He looked you up and down, a smirk on his face. “You’re not the only one that can wear the hell out of denim.” He laughed, a hand moving through his hair as he stepped into the room and sat down on the bed next to where you’d been, pulling his own boots back on. 

 Silently, pulled on your overshirt - a black and gray flannel that had been your dads, and was one of the softest shirts you owned. “You’re perfect, you know that?” What? His voice was quiet as you turned, tucking the hem of Ryan’s green t shirt into the front of your jeans. “That your dad’s shirt?” You nodded, allowing him to pull you down onto his lap, his lips finding the side of your neck. “It’s good that you kept it.” You sat in silence, Ryan’s hand gripping your thigh and then he sighed. “We should get goin’, if we’re gonna walk it’s gonna take some time.” Standing, you turned to face Ryan and held your hands out, waiting for him to grip them so that you could pretend to help him get to his feet, but instead, he tugged you forward, surprising you as he laid back. 

 “Ryan!” You laughed as you landed on him, hair fanning out around your head. “What are you doing?” He let go of your hands and moved his to your hips, fingers beneath the flannel and gripping the material of his shirt. “You said we needed to go!” But you were laughing still, leaning down to kiss his mouth, lips meeting his readily. 

 “Just wanted another minute with you,” he mumbled, kissing the corner of your mouth and then your cheek, reaching up to push your hair away from your face. “I know we have to go, but…” You knew what he was trying to say, because you felt it, too. Though the two of you did things separately often, the times that you spent together were better  - and neither of you were unselfish enough to cut those moments any shorter than necessary. You’d been without him physically for nearly a year, and out of contact for months, and you weren’t about to waste any additional time when you had it because the truth of the matter was that neither of you really had anywhere concrete to be, except with each other. 

 Ryan finally pushed you off of him, groaning. “Yeah, yeah, Ry.” You rolled your eyes as you stood, again holding a hand out to him and tugging as he stood. “You excited to see your friends?” You put a hand on your hip as he looked to the wall next to the bed - where his guitar would have been. 

 “Wish I had my guitar.” You’d hurt yourself even more… you’ll be fine. “My voice is…”

 “Your voice is perfect, Ryan. You’re going to sing and you’re going to enjoy yourself, and you’re not even going to miss that guitar.” He looked at you, shaking his head. “Also, I have a surprise for you.” One eyebrow raised, he watched as you stepped over to your suitcase, reaching in and rooting around. “I figured you knew someone out here.” You sighed as your fingers closed around the small object. “And I knew that even though you couldn’t play, you’d want to sing with them.” Holding up the recorder, you watched as Ryan’s face lit up. “I didn’t think you’d even think about bringing it, so… I packed it for you.” 

 “You’re the best. What would I do without you?” Ryan’s relief and appreciation were genuine, and he took the device from you, tucking it into the pocket of his jeans. You’ll never find out.  “Ready?” You nodded as you grabbed the room key from the dresser, following him out of the room. 

--- 

 Cliff was waiting in the park with two other people - a man and a woman, both carrying instruments of their own. Magen had a banjo, Tommy had a set of well-worn bongos and Cliff’s guitar showed all the signs of being played for years without looking shabby. They welcomed Ryan into the group without pause, Cliff throwing his arms around  the taller man as he introduced everyone - and then, to your surprise, he hugged you, too. Oh, OK. “It’s good to finally meet you.” His smile was wide, and you couldn’t help returning it, throwing Ryan a questioning glance. “Brenner won’t shut up about you.” Cliff rolled his eyes, continuing. “We saw him last fall in Kansas, and I knew then that he wasn’t gonna let you go.” With another look at Ryan, you saw that his cheeks were bright red, lips pressed together in an embarrassed smile. Really? “Talked to him after Christmas, too, when he was in St. Louis.” It was Cliff’s turn to frown, and even as you felt Ryan’s hand on your hip, your heart thumped as you recalled the time - so recent - that you’d thought he was gone forever. “I’m glad you two found each other.” Cliff nodded again, gesturing to Ryan’s hand. “But you’re hurt again, Brenner? Come on!”

 “Played for so long I tore the calluses on my fingers, Cliff.” Ryan cleared his throat. “Already feel better, but I can’t play for a few days… still gonna sing, though.” The mood shifting, Cliff gestured to a blanket only a few feet away and you and Ryan settled in, the others gathering around you. Ryan let the three of them play for a few songs, Magen’s voice soulful and definitely not what you expected out of her and Tommy clearly in love with the girl, as his eyes never left her, even as he played. Cliff was talented on the guitar, but you could tell that Ryan felt uncomfortable sitting idle, and after two songs, you leaned over, whispering in his ear. 

 “You said that you just sang at first when you were in St. Louis with Kenny, right?” He nodded, brown eyes filled with longing as he looked at Cliff’s instrument. “Do the same thing here. Ask them to play something that you can sing, and just don’t think about it.” He paused, letting them finish and then nodded, crossing his legs and turning the upper half of his body to face the other three. 

 “Mind if I join in?” He sounded hopeful, and the next couple of minutes were spent discussing what direction to go in, Ryan turning back to you and pulling the recorder out of his pocket, handing it to you. “You’ll know when to turn it on.” Will I? He cleared his throat, waiting and when Tommy started playing, everyone else joined in. They played three songs, Magen and Ryan taking turns on lead vocals, Cliff joining in at times and then took a break, talking amongst themselves and to the people that had stopped. There were just as many people giving Ryan longing looks as there were gazing as Magen, but even as he talked with the people that stopped, he made it clear that he was with you - a hand on top of yours, fingers trailing down your arm, leaning over to kiss you on the cheek. No doubt. 

 Ryan relaxed as the night went on, but you never got the sense that what was happening was special - well, special enough to be out of the ordinary, at least. The four musicians played well together, complimenting each other, ad libbing, extending songs… and you watched eagerly, drinking the performances in. By nine thirty, it was fully dark out, the park crowd changing to adults, to people that were there specifically to listen to performers like your group, and you offered to get up, buying bottles of water from a nearby Chevron station for everyone so that they could keep playing. You took your time walking to and from the building, the bag over your arm full of water and a Red Bull for yourself that you knew Ryan would drink half of, admiring the area that you were in. 

 When you got back to the group, they were between songs, and Ryan surprised you by pulling you down onto his lap, arms going around you as the five of you laughed with the gathered crowd. This is so different. You felt accepted by this group of Ryan’s friends, and though you were thankful, you were also sad that Georgie had responded to you in the way that he had. I wonder if he’d ever change his mind. Your questioning was short lived, because as soon as Ryan had drained the last of your can, he motioned for you to get off of him, standing up and stretching. They played another song - an ubeat one that had Ryan and Tommy laughing by the end, Ryan’s long legs folding beneath him as he sat back down, bumping his shoulder into yours. 

 Without pause, Cliff began playing another song, Tommy’s drums joining in without missing a beat. Eyes widening, you scrambled for the recorder, flipping it on and pressing record even as you moved away from Ryan to get a better vantage point. “All you, Brenner.” You heard Magen’s voice, quiet and sure as she lowered her banjo, letting Cliff and Tommy take over. Ryan took a deep breath and started singing, eyes closing after only a few words. 

 It's the time of the season

When love runs high

And this time, give it to me easy

And let me try with pleasured hands

 Magen’s voice joined his as he reached the chorus, and you were shocked at how well they blended together. His face, it’s different… he… His eyes were squeezed shut, nose crinkled as he breathed life into the words, and you vaguely noticed a growing crowd of people around you, pausing to listen and watch, staying respectfully silent. Ryan’s eyes opened again in the interlude between verses, his head turning toward you, eyes landing on your face just before he started singing again. Ryan inhaled, one eyebrow raised as he reached a hand out to you, fingertips grazing the curve of your cheek. 

 What's your name? 

Who's your daddy?

Is he rich like me?

Has he taken, any time

To show you what you need to live

 You couldn’t breathe. He’s trying to kill me. In Ryan’s voice, the words that you’d heard hundreds of times before took on new meaning, the way he stared at you as he sang - like he was the one that had written the lyrics, that the song was for you… it was unlike anything you’d heard before. His eyes closed again as Magen joined in, Ryan’s hand falling away from your face and back into his lap as he continued to sing, wetting his lips with his tongue with another inhalation. 

 Though the verse was repeated, Ryan and Magen switched the lead, his deep tone almost more suited for the echoes than the main lines, but by the third time they sang it - together, you could tell that she’d resigned herself to being the backup. This is even better than Vegas. Ryan took a final breath before the last lines of the song, closing his eyes again, and you watched his upper lip curl, the last notes leaving his lips and lingering in the air. When he finally stopped singing, Ryan opened his eyes again, lips parting as his tongue poked out. Before even looking at the crowd, Ryan turned to you, and you saw his lower lip tremble, the expression on his face one of hope and surprise. 

 “I got it.” You nodded, reaching down and pressing the ‘stop’ button on the device, nodding. “Every bit of it.” He let out a deep breath just as the final guitar note faded away and people began to clap, stepping forward and dropping money into the guitar case in front of you. Oh, Ryan. Even as he stood, a smile on his face as he spoke to the people watching, Ryan’s right hand reached down, fingers spread as he tapped on your shoulder, urging you to your feet. 

 Standing, he put his arm around your shoulders and gestured to Magen, waiting for her to stand as both Cliff and Tommy did the same, the conversation around you growing louder as everyone spoke at the same time, excitedly. He was right. You looked around, noticing the looks on people’s faces. They see performances like this all the time, and yet.. This one… they can tell it was special. A few minutes later, you’d pulled away from Ryan and everyone had settled back in, the music starting again without fail. It doesn’t matter what else they play tonight - that was it.

 Heart beating quickly, you allowed your mind to wander, trying to figure out how you and Ryan were going to get to all of the places he wanted to go so that he could connect with his friends and sing - the way he’d done that night, the way he’d done in New York, even the way he’d done in Vegas in front of the Eiffel Tower. The setting doesn’t matter. It’s the people, the feeling that he gets. 

 That night, sitting on a threadbare blanket on the grass of San Francisco’s Panhandle, you made an important decision: no matter what you had to do, you were going to make sure that Ryan got to where he needed to go and to who he needed to see. I owe you that, Ryan Brenner. You deserve it. 

---

[xathia-89]

Belated Blooming

It was hard to process sometimes that several years had passed since I had refused to go back to the ‘present’. I was in a slightly melancholy mood, my parents had always been distant, I was simply the result of faulty birth control. I was chewing the inside of my lip subconsciously as I gazed out over the gardens. It was early spring, and we were just coming out of a frost as the snowdrops were threatening to bloom. Azuchi was the only place I could even consider home after those three months I’d first spent here, it began to all make sense as to why I never truly belonged anywhere. I was born 500 years too late it seemed as I realised that I had some work to be done on a kimono.

Unbeknownst to me, there was a quiet gathering of the warlords in the main hall at the same time.

“Natsuki has been more withdrawn than usual,” Hideyoshi agreed as they all gave their reports on the chatelaine. She hadn’t been as interested in going to the town of late, even her passion for the fabrics and designing had slowed. The maids said her smile didn’t warm her eyes as often, and she was running off instincts and use of the routines rather than to actively investigate. The deep frown on his lord’s face was the main concern of them all, he was unusually serious regarding the chatelaine’s mood.

“Tomorrow we hold a feast for her,” Oda announced. “We have her favourite foods available and make sure she is spoilt. I will have the maids and townspeople keep her in the town for the day. Masamune will be in charge of the kitchens, Hideyoshi and Ieyasu will be in charge of making sure the castle is clean and decorated, Mitsunari will ensure that a new kimono is made to her specifications whilst Mitsuhide will spy on Natsuki and use delaying tactics if needs be,” he reeled off, as though mentally checking off on a list what needed addressing.

“And you, my lord?” Hideyoshi queried, surprised to hear how thoroughly Nobunaga was organising the event.

“I will be sourcing the gifts,” he smiled. “You are all dismissed.”

I felt as though I was trying to walk through a fog as I sat on the veranda outside my room. I was enjoying a lazy breakfast, brought to me by the maids after they’d told me that there was nothing to be done at the castle, but there was the talk of a potential problem in the town with supply lines. All the warlords were too busy to go and investigate, plus they all agreed that the merchants spoke a lot more freely with me than with any of the men. It also gave me a chance to practice my good luck charm skills as Nobunaga called them since rohins and enemy spies would often be attracted to the areas I was in, to the point I’d even had to start carrying a short sword after daily training with Masamune, Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide.

I let the maids know I was leaving, they requested some general items and to see if there was anything new in the herb and spices that took my fancy. Nobunaga ensured I was never wanting for money, but I was happier to earn it. Everything was starting to become the same in my daily life as I quietly contemplated how my life had been turned upside down. I hadn’t failed to notice the increasing letters requesting my hand in marriage with various daimyos and other lords as I pondered the mere thought of leaving Azuchi behind. It was expected of the era for women to bear children as it was starting to feel like a crushing weight seeing as I had yet to even form any romantic attachments. I loved everyone dearly at the castle, I was just struggling to push over that sentimental attachment and find anything deeper.

Cinnamon had made its way onto the market, as I purchased enough to keep me in dumplings for a while to come, and I cleaned them out of the sugar candies to keep Nobunaga occupied for his night excursions. The stall holders were all a little cheerier than usual, even after I was done probing the spice merchant about any possible problems that we’d heard up at the castle. Everyone was being quick to deny anything, and I had to agree that if anything the paths seemed safer given the larger selection available from most of them.

I paused as I came to my favourite teahouse. The dumplings made here simply couldn’t compete as I went to find the owner. He was beaming as I went to hand him over some cinnamon until he laughed and said that he had already purchased some in anticipation of my visit. I was ushered outside and sat down as they prepared the dumplings and graced me with some tea whilst I was waiting.

Mitsuhide was chuckling to himself as he took a seat opposite me, a slippery smirk on his face as I continued to sip at my tea. There was some sake brought out for him instantly, and the idle chatter began before the special dumplings were brought out.

He looked a little stumped at the smell, trying to process it.

“Cinnamon,” I calmly stated before taking a mouthful and savouring it slowly. It had been months since it was last available, and it was never predictable. Vanilla was the other spice I had the merchants on the lookout for, though many of them appeared confused when I asked but agreed to be prepared for it since the price was rarely a problem when it was me asking.

“What?” the serpent asked, looking even more confused.

“That smell, it’s cinnamon. Reminds me of home,” I shrugged, biting into another dumpling. “Try one,” I offered.

Mitsuhide pulled a face at the treat. “I don’t like sweet things,” he grumbled, as I rolled my eyes at the man. “Anyway, it’s getting late and I’m sure you’ve bought most of the market,” he teased.

“It’s only getting late because you’re on your third bottle of sake,” I snorted, jabbing straight back at him.

We quibbled the entire way up to the castle before he lifted his hand to announce his departure, whilst walking in the completely opposite direction to my room. I was feeling like the whole day had been a distraction, it wasn’t unusual for me to see none of the warlords, but the smells drifting from the kitchens told me that Masamune was busy at the very least.

I hadn’t told any of the warlords that I was getting written proposals from anyone, they’d be going mad, which is why all the blood drained from my face when I found a brand new kimono in my room on top of them all with a note saying ‘wear this and we need to talk’. Hideyoshi had found out at the very least, which meant that everyone was going to know soon enough. The kimono made me feel like the Oda princess title I’d been given, which brought a dark blush to my skin, I’d been acting more like the chatelaine than the princess of late, though apparently, I fit into both roles like a glove.

I was nervous when I heard a knock, and Ieyasu opened the door. “Come on,” he gruffly bristled and jerked his head in the direction of the main hall.

All of the daimyos who had sent marriage requests were present, along with some very pissed off warlords. None of them were too pleased to be there, though several faces turned instantly to one of hope at my appearance. Ieyasu was playing the escort as he held his hand out to guide me through the masses.

“Everyone present has made a bid for the princess’ hand in marriage, without consulting me,” Nobunaga was not happy as I was seated next to him, a blaze in his eyes telling me that as soon as the daimyos were dismissed, I was in for one hell of a talking to. “All of you are now to leave and will never be considered for marriage to the princess,” he claimed. Some of the men looked ready to argue until they noticed that Masamune, Mitsuhide, Hideyoshi and Ieyasu all had their hands on their swords, and even Oda was not far from his blade.

Once it was confirmed they had all left the building, the warlords all turned their attention onto me as I gave them a weak smile.

“I didn’t want to bother you guys,” I explained. “I had no intention of accepting any of their offers because it would mean I couldn’t stay here.”

“Regardless, you should have told us you were receiving that volume,” Hideyoshi was turning into the big brother role. “It may look to undermine Lord Nobunaga’s role if it is left to run this far. I noticed that many of them were from the same men, they take silence as a potential yes,” he sighed.

“Some of those letters were getting downright rude too lass, warning you about your age,” Masamune added in, there was still a hope for a fight in his eye, but there always was that air around him.

Nobunaga wouldn’t look me in the eye anymore as Mitsunari appeared. The two men muttered amongst themselves, and a glance was given to Mitsuhide who then promptly disappeared. Masamune took this as a hint to take me to the kitchens, especially since I’d bought the cinnamon in from the market. He was playing with the dough that he had been in the middle of making when we had all been summoned to the hall. The silence was natural, I was just studying his technique, intrigued as to how he made it so the dough was light and fluffy.

“Why did you really hide all those proposals from us lass?” Date brought me out of my stupor, surprising me a little.

“Because it just felt like I would be causing problems. I don’t want to be continually reminded of my age and Nobunaga has enough on his plate without me adding that to it. I have no intention of leaving Azuchi after this long, it’s my home now and I didn’t think that any of you would be bothered since I had no intentions of accepting them,” I shrugged with a sigh.

“Care to share the burden as you frequently ask us?” He continued. I was picking at the hem of my kimono sleeves in an attempt to focus on something.

“Where I come from, there’s pressure to excel in a career, you aren’t expected to have children. My parents only had me, and I wasn’t exactly a wanted child, there were developments made that could mean you didn’t just end up with children like you do here, but it all failed and I happened,” I shrugged, refusing to look up from my sleeves. “Now I’ve been here for a few years, everyone’s expecting me to get married and have kids, and I don’t think I could do that to Nobunaga,” I quietly added. “This is my home, has been for a while, and now all these lords were piling their expectations onto me. Just wondering if I need to get back through the next wormhole,” I paused. “I wouldn’t fit in there anymore. And I’d miss you all too much to function. I guess I just feel like I’m stuck in a limbo between two sets of expectations.”

“Nobunaga’s been turning down proposals for you since you arrived,” Date chuckled, adding a pinch of salt to the broth he had boiling. “I guess they got bored of hearing him say no, so they went to you hoping to override him effectively. I don’t think I’ve seen him do anything for anyone like he does for you.”

“It’d have been a lot easier for him to throw me in a cell and just to leave me to rot then to take me on as he did,” I admitted, wrapping my arms around my abdomen and leaning forward a little. “Getting it out in the open just makes it sound ridiculous,” I sighed. “That I’m worrying over nothing.”

“Other’s expectations are a huge weight to bear lass, especially in the case of marriage and children,” Masamune gravely replied. “But for now, you have us all, and you need a good meal. I know you haven’t been eating properly for weeks,” he growled and shooed me out back to the main hall as the servants came in to take all the dishes out.

The sake was flowing freely between me and Nobunaga as we watched the rest of the hall with interest. Any vassals, aides or staff who had been present were all invited since Masamune had gotten overzealous with the quantities of food and there was enough to feed an army. I was sure I was imagining the gap between us getting smaller until I realised I was sat on his lap quite comfortably. I was pouring him the sake constantly as he kept tipping the cup back without a thought until he tipped an entire cup into my mouth and then kissed me to get the sake back.

His lips were soft, his fingers holding my chin up as the sake disappeared between us and it wasn’t until we parted for breath that we realised that the whole room had fallen silent and was staring at us now.

“Finally!” Date cheered, as Oda faintly blushed whilst I turned the shade of a tomato. “Only taken five years,” he grinned, holding a cup of water up to us.

“That’s sake!” I yelled at him, though Nobunaga wasn’t letting me go anywhere to stop him drinking it. “Idiot,” I muttered before I was pulled back in for another kiss. The faint traces of sake still on Oda’s tongue and lips as I was left mind blown.

Moving into the tenshu was the only thing to be done, my sewing kit took up a corner of the room as Nobunaga grumbled about making compromises. He’d been turning down the proposals and not telling me to keep me happy, he’d heard about the various romantic attachments of my modern era and wanted me to find my own way. Turns out I’d just gotten so lost in myself he had to come and find me anyway.

The gossip spread quickly through the domain, as some of the merchants passed comments on to me whilst at the market that made me blush. There was always the outside pressure for children and to make things ‘right’ between us. Everything had to be done suddenly in this era, life was so fleeting and fragile, but I was still trying to break out of my modern expectations of a relationship. I had time still for children, but with every battle, Nobunaga raged in, there was always that chance he would never come home. The thought of him not coming home still terrified me as much as it did when I first arrived as I scurried back to the castle after some hurried goodbyes, just to get out of the prying eyes and ears of the townsfolk.

“They mean well,” Nobunaga patted my head as I let out a sigh, glad to be back in the castle. “Just take things as you’re prepared to,” he kissed my forehead and left for the war council in the main hall. A brief passing in the corridor was all I was likely to see him until he woke me up when he got into bed. He had heard from the maids what was being said in the town, and Mitsuhide had confirmed the same things after a little snooping about. It made me feel as though I was sitting on top of an invisible timer, and everyone else could see it except for me.

“Natsuki,” someone was shaking my shoulder gently, waking me from my slumber. “You really need to be more careful,” Oda chastised as it turned out I’d fallen asleep on my sewing, again. It was the middle of the night as I peered up at him. “Come on, the bed’s this way,” he chuckled, having already changed his clothing.

Once we were settled down in the futon, he was stroking my hair softly as I listened to his steady heartbeat. It was all soothing and comforting to be there with him as I sighed softly in contentment.

“That’s a better noise,” he murmured in a humoured tone.

“Mm, you’re my favourite,” I mumbled in response, sleep winning the battle I was fighting.

“Should hope so,” I could hear the smug look on his face without even needing to look up. This was where I was home and meant to be.  

[myrish-lace-love]

If I give you my secret, will you keep it?

Summary: Jon Snow, a tattoo artist, meets a beautiful woman with a brutal mark on her skin. Will she trust him enough to help her close one ugly chapter in her life and open a happier one? 

A/N:  A Jon x Missandei fic that’s a late entry for @asoiafrarepairs​ week! For @amymel86​.

***

Jon pushed the tattoo parlor door open. The Crimson Dragon was a small shop in the corner of a busy street. Testimonials from customers proudly showing their ink hung in the window. The bell jingled as Jon stepped inside, rubbing his hands together from the cold.

Tormund cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’re late, Snow.”

Jon glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten in the morning exactly. “Sod off, I’m on time, not my fault you show up early.”

Tormund gestured to the floor. “I like a clean shop, Snow. Didn’t stay in business for twenty years by letting the place collect dust.”

Tormund looked intimidating, with ink running up both arms, but he was a stickler for sparkling work surfaces. Not every tattoo parlor could say the same.

“Well, don’t stand about, get over to your table. We’ve got a client coming in fifteen minutes. She called ahead to see if we were free. Says she’s been shopping around.” Tormund seemed mildly impressed. It was a good sign – spur of the moment tattoo decisions often ended badly.

“She sounded pretty,” Pyp mumbled as he wiped down the counter.

Gilly stopped working in her sketchbook long enough to roll her eyes. “What does that even mean Pyp?”

“I – she – just wait till she comes in.”

Tormund grinned. “Five bucks says you’re wrong.”

Jon’s headache was already fading. He’d indulged in too many beers last night, drinking his way through the one year anniversary of his break up with Ygritte. But as he cleaned off his workstation, surrounded by his friends from the army, the tension left his shoulders.

Jon was lucky Tormund had taken him when his two tours in Afghanistan were up. Tormund had been surprised when Jon asked for a chair at the shop. He’d teased him about being the heir to the Targaryen fortune. But Jon had had enough of his father’s irresponsible demands on him and his family members. He was happiest here, in a quiet corner, concentrating on one design at a time.

The bell chimed again. A small, slight woman slipped through the door. “Am I too early?”

“Never too early to see a customer at the Crimson Dragon,” Tormund said. “Why don’t you head over to Jon there, he can get you started.” Jon didn’t notice Pyp’s smirk as Tormund handed him five dollars.

“I’m Missandei. Thank you for seeing me.” She took off her coat and unwrapped a yellow scarf from around her neck, revealing a head full of springy, dark curls.

“No trouble, it’s what I’m here for.” She’s not pretty, she’s beautiful, lovely, gorgeous.

Missandei tucked a curl behind her ear. “Do you have a...more private room?”

“Sure,” Jon said, “mind if Gilly comes with us?”

Missandei looked relived. “Yes, that would be wonderful, thank you.” He couldn’t quite place her accent. Jon beckoned for Gilly to join them. They made their way to the studio in the back. Missandei stopped in the middle of the room and turned to face them.

“I want to get a tattoo removed,” she said.

Jon ran a hand through his hair. “I have to tell you, a clinic would probably be better for tattoo removal. We have the right machines here, but–“

“No,” she said quickly. “I’ve been to each of them and the way they look at me – I’m not going back."

Jon smiled faintly, at a loss for why a clinic would turn down business. He tried to put Missandei at ease. “So, boyfriend’s name? Girlfriend?”

Missandei started to tremble, and suddenly Jon was scared for her.

“Hey, hey, it’s none of my business. No more questions, I promise.”

She squared her shoulders and met his eyes. He could drown in their soft brown depths. “It’s under my hair, on my – on my neck,” she finished.

Jon went cold all over.  Tormund had talked about them, and Gilly had removed a few. A Lysene mark. Slavery.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I shouldn’t have – I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what to do with his hands.

But Missandei only smiled. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “Can you do it? Remove it, I mean?”

Read more below or on AO3

“I can, or you could have Gilly do it, if you’re more comfortable. It will take a few sessions to remove the tattoo completely.”

Missandei thought for a moment. “I’d like for you to do it, and for Gilly to stay.”

“That’s fine.” She got into the chair, and Gilly helped her position her head. Gilly took Missandei’s hand, and they exchanged a few words in Spanish before Missandei put her face down in the pillow.

Jon took a deep breath. “I’m going to lift up your hair, okay?”

“Yes.”

Gilly handed Jon hair pins. His sister Sansa liked to joke that he had a secret desire to be a hairdresser. He touched Missandei’s curls gently and pinned her hair back. He gritted his teeth when he saw the mark. An ugly, black teardrop, like a brand.

He hated whoever had done this to her, marked her skin without her consent. They’d assaulted her and held her down and tried to turn her into a thing, not a person.

“Did it hurt?” The words were out before he could stop himself. His voice cracked.

“Yes,” Missandei said, “but not the way you think.”

Jon thanked the gods that his hands were steady as he got to work. “You know,” he said lightly, because she deserved a reassuring voice for this, “we offer replacement tattoos free of charge. Just something to think about.”

Gilly stared at him, because it was a bald-faced lie. Jon could pay for her new tattoo out of his own money though.

After half an hour, Missandei sat up slowly as Jon put away the equipment. Gilly brought her some water and a few cookies. Missandei looked puzzled as Gilly pressed the cookie into her hand.

“Low blood sugar,” Jon said, washing his hands at the sink. “It can be a side effect of the procedure. Better safe than sorry.”

Missandei took a dainty bite. Jon came back and stood awkwardly next to the chair. “How are you feeling?”

Missandei blinked rapidly and swayed in her seat. Gilly put a hand on Missandei’s shoulder, and Jon shot her a grateful look. “Easy, easy, there’s no rush.”

Missandei sipped her water, and color came back into her cheeks. “I’m fine, thanks to both of you. Should I schedule my next session in the front?”

Jon nodded. “Just talk to Tormund. Big man with–“

“The red beard, yes, I noticed him when he came in. He’s hard to miss.” She smiled again, and her beauty took his breath away.

Gilly walked Missandei to the counter. Jon stayed in the studio for a few minutes, trying to calm his heart, wondering why he was already desperate to see Missandei again. He wouldn’t tell her that, though. He wanted her to book her next appointments with whichever employee made her the most comfortable.

When he came back up to the front of the store, he checked out the appointment book. He expected to see Missandei’s name in Gilly’s column. Instead, she’d booked four more appointments with him. She’d left a note that she’d like to have Gilly present, too.

“Stop grinning like an idiot, Snow.” Tormund shut the book. “Get back over to your station.” Jon hesitated. He wanted to talk to Tormund about Missandei, about how furious he was that people could be so cruel. But he wouldn’t betray Missandei’s trust. He nodded and walked away from the counter.

“Jon, wait.” Tormund waived him over. “Look, I ain’t saying what did or didn’t happen back there, or what kind of work that young woman’s having done, because it’s not my place to know. But she wanted me to tell you how grateful she was, that you were willing to do the work.”

“Anyone should be willing,” Jon said angrily, “it’s not something worth thanking me for.”

Tormund sighed. “I’m trying to tell you that you did well, Snow. Some tattoos show us the worst of what people are willing to do. You’re showing her something else. I’m proud of you.”

Jon closed his mouth after a minute. Tormund rarely made this kind of speech.

“Now go on, go home,” Tormund said gruffly. “Pyp and Gilly and I will close up. We’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t be late again.” He winked.

Jon felt some of the tension leave his body. He’d been wound up ever since Missandei told her story.

“Thanks Tormund. See you tomorrow.” He fell asleep dreaming of strength and courage and soft, brown eyes.

***

By the third session, Missandei didn’t ask for Gilly anymore. By the fourth, Jon learned about how recently she’d moved to Chicago. The cold had taken her by surprise, but she’d managed to get a few plants to grow in her apartment that reminded her of Madrid.

Jon wrapped up their last session full of regret. He’d miss seeing Missandei every other week. But the tattoo was gone now, and he had no reason to ask her to stay. She hadn’t mentioned wanting any more ink. Jon waived to her as she left, and tried to memorize her soft voice and the way her eyes crinkled at the corners.

Tormund caught him after Missandei left. “You decided on a wedding date yet?”

“Shove off Tormund. She’s just...polite.”

Tormund grunted. “Her eyes light up every time she sees you, and what eyes they are. She likes you, you bleeding idiot. And given how you look at her like she hung the moon, you like her too.”

Maybe I do. “Her tattoo’s gone, and she didn’t ask for more work.” Jon had secretly hoped she’d take him up on his offer. “So you and Pyp and Gilly can stop gossiping about me. She’s not coming back.” He hadn’t meant to sound so sad.

Tormund made a noncommittal noise. “Well, time will tell, Snow. Now get ready, we’ve got a bachelorette party coming in. Matching tattoos with the bride.”

Jon, Gilly and Pyp groaned in unison. Jon threw himself into the work, though, when the girls arrived. Best to get lost again in his art, and forget about the beautiful woman who’d walked out the door.

Business picked up as the weeks went by and winter turned into spring. Jon still looked up hopefully each time the door chimed, but his hope was fading. Maybe she never wants to see the inside of a tattoo parlor again, and who could blame her?

He was giving Gilly feedback on her sketches during a break on a warm spring day when the doorbell chimed again. Gilly nudged him. “Jon, you’re going to want to see this.”

He glanced over at the door and nearly dropped the book. Missandei stepped into the shop in a pair of jeans and a black tank top. Her hair was down around her shoulders. She smiled when she saw Jon, a smile that lit up her whole face.

Beautiful. Lovely. Gorgeous.

Gilly nudged him again. “Don’t just stand there, you oaf, go talk to her.”

Jon’s feet were glued to the floor. Missandei walked over to him and Gilly.

“Hello, stranger,” Gilly said. She hugged Missandei, then stepped back and looked at Jon expectantly. He’d spent so many days hoping to see her and now that he was face to face with her, he didn’t know what to say.

Missandei cleared her throat. “Jon, I wanted to ask you about a design,” she said, “and before you try I know replacement tattoos aren’t free. I can pay my own way.” He hadn’t thought about how that offer might come across, to someone with her history. “I know you meant well,” she said gently. “I do, Jon. Can I– “ She glanced at the crowded counter and shrank when a boisterous group of frat boys stumbled into the parlor.

Jon looked over her shoulder. “Over in the back, it’s a little quieter?”

“Thank you Jon.”

Jon led her back to the private studio. Missandei perched on the table.

“Do you do lettering? Black script?”

“Yes,” Jon said. “Black tattoos tend to last longer anyway. What would you like?”

“I’m a translator,” she said, touching her throat. Jon could see it in the quick and graceful way she moved her hands. He remembered how she’d shifted easily between English and Spanish with Gilly. “I want a tattoo on my upper arm, something I can cover up if I like, but also something I can show out in the open.”

He tried his best to make sure people loved the ink they got, that it told a story they wanted to tell. The story her old tattoo told had been forced on her.

Now she’s trying to tell a new one, he thought. Best start helping her with it. But he was still curious. “Why me?”

“Your eyes,” she said, “when I told you about the mark.  You looked – angry, but not at me? No disgust or pity. I’ve had enough pity for a lifetime.”

Warmth flooded his chest. He was pretty sure he was blushing. “What text do you want?”

“Just a single word,” she said. “Chiaroscuro.”

“You’re definitely going to have to write that down for me.”

She laughed, and the sound washed over him like ocean waves. He was well and truly gone.

“It means lightness and dark, brightness and shadow, two things at once. It’s how I feel, when I translate, like I have a foot in both worlds, when I’m really getting it right.” She picked at the hem of her shirt. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”

Jon’s throat was dry. “Thank you for telling me.”

She placed her hand over his and his heart raced.

They weren’t supposed to date customers. Jon didn’t mix his work and his personal life. None of that mattered when she pressed her soft lips to his. He rested a hand on her shoulder, and buried his other hand in her dark curls and kissed her, kissed her, kissed her.

“I thought I might have to keep it,” she whispered when they broke apart. “The mark. If I couldn’t find the right person. And the first time I met you I saw someone who wouldn’t judge me for what I had, and who might like what I wanted to become.”

Jon laced his fingers with hers. “Thank you for trusting me. I wish I could tell you how much that means to me. I’ll never be as articulate as you are.”

“Your eyes tell a story, Jon, a sweet one, and I can read it.”

***

Years later, at their wedding, Tormund, Pyp and Gilly toasted them as they started their first dance. Missandei wore a sleeveless yellow dress, and laughed as Jon spun her around the dance floor.

“Chiaroscuro,” Pyp mused. “That’s what her tattoo says. What does it mean?”

Tormund refilled Pyp’s champagne glass. “Haven’t the faintest idea. They look happy though, don’t they?”

Pyp turned to Gilly. “C’mon, Gilly, tell me, you and Missandei are friends.”

Gilly smiled as Jon dipped Missandei at the end of the song. “She’s never told me, and I haven’t asked. If Jon knows, he keeps it to himself. That’s why they’re perfect for each other.”

Pyp furrowed his brow. “What are you on about? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Aye, it does,” Tormund said. “Drink up Pyp, I’ll explain when you’re older.”

[nedcanquen]

Chapter 9: Mr 7th Floor

In the past 8 months, I once again moved to a new country, applied to grad school, started and ended a relationship, and had to care for a family member. I’m sorry for the delay, but Matthew and Daan were never far from my mind.

Thank you to everyone who reads and has been patient with me!

Tags: Slow Burn (like…really slow burn) - endgame is NedCan but they don’t get there directly, Single POV, Yep, Canada will date other people before endgame because he’s very desirable even if he doesn’t always know it, Audit firm AU, Office AU, some angst…

Pairings: NedCan (endgame), NorCan, implied NedDen, DenNor, implied Spamano, France/Jeanne d’Arc, GerIta

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |  Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

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It’s warm here. Matthew breathes in the salty sea air and takes in a view he hasn’t seen in many many years. He loves Cuba already, he’s nineteen and ready for his first adventure outside of Canada, and there’s a part of him that’s not so secretly satisfied that he’s set foot in a place that his brother cannot go…

There’s a part of him that scoffs at that now, but then? You can be forgiven for making sweeping conclusions at nineteen.

He had gone for a special language course at the University of Havana, at least, that was the excuse. It was the summer before he would start his year abroad in Houston (and the disaster that was his personal experience there even if he held the city no personal ill will). Everyone had been yelling at him for years to do something crazy. Well here he was, this was it for him.

Travelling to a new country wasn’t exactly most people’s definition of “crazy” but it was still significant for Matthew. Up to that point, he had played it safe, preferred the quiet, his own company, and the cold. He fell sick whenever the temperatures teased their way to thirty degrees, he swam in the snow just for fun. So yes, running off to Cuba was “crazy” enough. The beginning of Havana had been wonderful - stepping into a new world of warmth and experience. Why had he forgotten it? Maybe because he had set forth for adventure outside of his vast country twice, and both times had made him vulnerable in a way that Canada never forced him to endure. It was easier to choose to forget.

But right now, he’s dreaming of it - he’s dreaming some fantastical, magical version of his early days in Havana, and he can’t bring himself to wake up even though he knows it’s a dream - or maybe it’s a memory springing forth because there’s no resistance to it.

The warm buzz from the wine has taken him back to a different warmth - a warm night. The humidity had turned his hair almost frizzy with curls but he hadn’t cared. His glasses smudged often with grease, humidity, and sweat, but he just wiped them clean with the cotton on his shirt and continued smiling anyway. When someone pressed a cocktail into his hand, he drank from it happily. In that warm haze of happiness he allowed himself to sway to the music - badly probably. That’s when he saw him.

Everything Matthew had wanted to be when he was nineteen, still, actually - confident, charismatic. When Carlos Garcia laughed and danced, he owned the room. And somehow on that evening, Carlos Garcia had decided that he wanted to teach Matthew how to dance as opposed to sway like a dead man thrown into a river.

Somewhere buried in the back of a book that Matthew no longer opens, but can’t get rid of, is a picture of him and Carlos lying down on a beach in Gilbara. Matthew is sitting down, looking out at the water, and Carlos is lying on the sand with his head on Matthew’s lap. The funny thing about something ending is that sometimes your mind blocks out the happier stuff from before. But now that Matthew is allowing himself to remember Cuba again, he remembers Carlos. For Matthew, Carlos is Cuba, there’s no separating the two.

Physically, Carlos and Daan are as different as night and day. Daan is long and lean, while Carlos was a little shorter than Matthew, strong and heavyset. Daan’s hair is short and styled to clean and spiky perfection - not a strand out of place. Carlos’ hair was long and free, twisted into dreadlocks. Looks were shallow though, because both possesed a familiar solid charisma, old-world charm, and frightening honesty that partnered comfortably with an easy confidence that lent well to leadership. Qualities that Matthew desperately wished he had.

Now he wants to wake up. He knows what happens after he leaves Cuba.   

And when he does…

The light through the curtains tells Matthew that he’s overslept. Fuck.

Not overslept actually, it’s just that he tries to wake up before sunrise three times a week for a run. He needs to run to burn off his excess energy, to manage stress, to make sure he doesn’t fall too far behind Alfred physically or his brother will walk all over him by habit. Besides, Matthew isn’t naive enough to overlook the fact that he’s been treated better at work since he’s gotten fit so…Wait, where is he? It takes a moment to adjust, simply because it’s not what he’s used to seeing. Eventually his brain catches up with him and Matthew jumps out of bed with a yelp.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod...” He’s not exhausted and cranky anymore - just a moment ago he was warm, happy, worried, now he’s all over the place and out of sorts. Shit shit shit why did he think about Cuba? What on...forget that. He has to shower, he has to change, he doesn’t have his clothes he has to iron them and he’s late!

Matthew throws his bedroom door open, and sees Daan and Lukas look up at him curiously.

“Good morning.” They both greet in unison, and Matthew stands there frozen for a moment at the shocking domestic normalcy. Daan is sitting at the table, pouring chocolate sprinkles on a slice of bread and Lukas is ironing in the back of the kitchen near the washing and dryer machines. They’re both already dressed, though Lukas is wearing office attire and Daan has his bicycle-riding getup on with a fitting highlighter-orange shirt. Pretty darn fitting. Shit. It’s too early in the morning for this. Too late, but too early. He tries to step forward but instead walks into something.

“Ow! What the-” Hopping slightly and holding his pained toe, he looks down at a...a Roomba? It’s the slimmest Roomba he’s ever seen though, and Nijntje is sitting on it as it carries on, cleaning up the apartment.

“You okay?” Daan is half standing from the table and Matthew desperately waves him away.

“I’m fine! I’m fine! I just uh...ugh.” He limps a little to the breakfast table, while desperately trying to think of a way to distract them from his embarrassment. “Uh...where’s Mathias?” Why was that the first question out of his mouth?

Daan looks at him with concern and...that look again, that stupid Partner look like they’re reading your mind. Then it seems, as soon as the scrutiny starts, it stops. Daan instead sips coffee from a...a dick mug, of course. “He operates a food place.” He responds after he swallows. “He left hours ago to open up and catch the morning office crowd.” Breathe Matthew. Breathe.

“Oh...right. Uh...I’ll just change quickly and I’ll drive you guys to work? It’s the least I can do, you let me stay the night.”

Lukas and Daan look at each other with amused looks on their faces.

“It’s okay Matthew.” Daan smirks. “You didn’t exactly stay the night by choice.”

“So you’ve already done us a favor.” Lukas adds. “Here, I ironed your clothes.” He turns off the iron and walks up, holding a hanger with Matthew’s clothes, looking even more crisp than they did yesterday. How did he do that?! Matthew can only look at Lukas in astonishment and wonder for a moment again, how he ever ended up being able to date this guy. Or really...any guy he had ever dated, come think of it. At least with Lukas it ended before he could get truly hurt.

“Right, well, time for me to go.” He turns to see that Daan is leaving the table and heading to the door, carrying a light backpack.

“Wait Daan, you don’t want a ride?”

“Today’s a cycling day. I want to fit in as many of these in while the weather’s still good, which also means I need to leave now.”

As Daan takes down his selected bicycle from its place on the wall, Matthew remembers that sometimes, Daan cycles to work. Good thing there are showers in the office. “Oh, okay. Uh, be safe.”

Daan barely shrugs and opens the door.

“Wait!” Matthew calls out, it finally hits him, what’s wrong with this picture. “You don’t wear a helmet?!”

Daan looks back at him with a straight face. “I have a hard head.”

Matthew doesn’t answer because he can’t. That’s the dumbest thing he’s ever heard, and he’s tired and out-of-sorts enough that it must show on his face because Daan throws up his hands in annoyance and stalks to a nearby closet.

“Oh fine! Is the auditor happy?” He asks, holding up a helmet and strapping it on.

“I...don’t know why you’re annoyed, I’m clearly the one who’s right here…?” Matthew responds with genuine confusion.

Matthew can’t read the deadpan look on Daan’s face but he isn’t sure it’s all that great. “I bet that’s your response whenever you turn up every year for the scheduled audit. Bye.” He waves at both of them, then leaves.

Matthew waves too, but once the door is closed he turns to Lukas. “Is it just me or was that weird? That was kind of weird right? Wait...ugh priorities, I need to get dressed. Damnit, I really did wake up late.”

Lukas just looks at him, then at the door in concern. Finally he takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Matthew, do me a favor. Breathe with me okay.”

What?

But that’s all Lukas does, stands in front of him quietly, with a little roomba working in the background, breathing deeply. Finally Matthew follows and after an initial period of feeling like an idiot he actually just focuses on breathing.

Breathe in, breathe out...breathe…

Eventually the world comes back into focus again. He still needs a shower, but it’s not life or death. Lukas seems to note the change too and nods. “Good. You have time, your clothes are ironed and you drive to work. Anyway, I’m not addicted to cycling, so I’ll take you up on that ride.”

He’s right. Matthew allows himself a smile “Where’d you learn that?”

Lukas scoffs a little. “From two different people - didn’t listen to the first one, then when I learned it from the second one I felt pretty dumb for ignoring it the first time. Simple but effective though. Why don’t you eat breakfast? It’s right there on the table, yoghurt, cheese and milk are in the fridge.”

Matthew looks at the table and notes that everything he would need for a cold breakfast is there. On weekdays he generally grabs something hot on the way into work leaving himself to cook his favorites on weekends. “Okay...cold it is.” He didn’t mind cereal, he just usually preferred something warm.

“You want...eggs? Something more filling?” Lukas guessed.

“No,” Matthew smiles, “I mean I’m used to warm things in the morning but the chocolate on bread thing looked good.”

Lukas nods, looking thoughtful about something before walking back to the kitchen. “I’ll make you some coffee, how do you like it?”

The coffee did wonders for Matthew’s mind. He remembered why he was here in this apartment in the first place instead of his own. Now that he’s more awake and there’s more light streaming into the apartment through open curtains, he notices more than he did yesterday - there’s a balcony with a healthy collection of lush green plants, and colorful flowers. Hitam is drinking water in her open cage, Nijntje is still riding around on the Roomba, and Maple appears to be asleep. It’s such a cheerful place, that clearly had a lot of thought put into it that Matthew feels sorry for Daan that he likely doesn’t spend much time in it.

“Your clothes.” Lukas says randomly, taking a seat across him at the table.

“My? Oh heh yeah. I’m amazed they don’t have anything inappropriate written on them. I suppose there was a limit to the gag gifts?” Matthew jokes.

Lukas smiles slightly. “No, because those are Mathias’ clothes. Makes sense I guess. Daan may be tall but he’s lean. Probably figured you wouldn’t be comfortable if he loaned you his clothes.”

Oh...that made sense actually. Speaking of Mathias, “You know it’s not my place to pry but…how are you doing? How is...I mean you seem tired but overall is it...good?” It’s a little awkward once it leaves his mouth, and Matthew doesn’t quite understand why he’s just asked his ex how it’s going with the first ex, but...well Lukas was the one who had brought him here. The two of them didn’t seem to interact much the previous night.

Matthew can see Lukas think of the answer. “It’s better.” He acknowledges. Lukas’ eyes flicker to his and stops.

“I can take it.” Matthew mutters, not quite sure if it’s true but he’s the one who asked, and somehow it’s less frightening than thinking of the fact that he’s in Daan’s home, dreaming of Carlos and his own mistakes. “Or I wouldn’t have asked. I’m...glad. I mean, is it still raw? Yeah, but it was nice to see the three of you last night, reminiscing and getting along. It was warm and...thanks for making sure I was never left out.”

Now Lukas looks surprised. He nods with a small smile and shrugs. “Thanks for coming here. I’m glad that you felt comfortable. I realize I must have put you in an awkward spot bringing you here.”

Matthew runs a thumb on the handle of his cup, and takes a deep breath. He looks at his mug while he does - a plain thing painted with a cheerful orange color - more orange, there’s a clear running theme here. There’s a lot of splashes of orange in this place. “Thanks for acknowledging that.” He eventually lets out. “But I’m the one who called you, so...I’m not entirely blameless. Did you two manage to talk about Arthur at all?” Matthew still doesn’t understand why a simple request to a friend of Arthur’s to check in on the man led to this but who knows? Maybe Lukas didn’t even know why he came here - maybe it was some unknown childhood dynamic thing - have a problem? Where do you go?

Lukas yawns and nods. “Daan will send me a message if he notes or hears that Arthur has been particularly bad, or is looking forward to a stressful time...which actually will be coming up soon. Daan gave me the heads up that has to hand over a large project to him today.” Lukas looks somewhat disappointed but doesn’t say much more. “He’s right though, a lot of what has to be done well...I’m Arthur’s friend. I have to do it, and I’ll start by taking him on a hike this weekend.”

Matthew smiles at that. It’s apt and appropriate. He’s also glad that even though they probably won’t be hiking together in the near future, that Lukas will still be able to give himself a reason to go.

“Speaking of, I’m helping to organize Arthur’s Partner party. I was planning on inviting you, and Belle, and well, Arthur’s friends basically in addition to my department and his current one. Could you do me a favor and think of anyone else who ought to be there while I finish up and get ready for work?”

“Sure.” Lukas shrugs, relieved and happy that they’re back to the topic of a common goal. “It’s basically one other guy, a friend of ours from the MBA. I think I can convince him to come on over. We can discuss the rest on the road.”

Matthew freezes a little standing up. “About that I...uh. Well I guess it’s a compliment that you trust me to drive so...thanks for that. But honestly it never occured to me until last night that being in a car is something that potentially uh, terrifies you so...if you’re ever in my car and uncomfortable you can-”

Lukas lets out a  sardonic laugh. “I’m terrified in very specific circumstances, otherwise it’s fine. But thanks.”

There’s an awkward beat where neither moves and they smile at each other, but it doesn’t last long. Matthew has a meeting to get to.

Before they get into the car though. “You’re sure you’re fine?” Matthew has to ask again.

Lukas just rolls his eyes with a smile. “Ask me anything else. Yes! I’m fine. It’s not like visibility will be terrible in rush hour traffic. At worst, someone may bump into you.”

Matthew laughs and pats his car with reassurance. “Well she may be old but she’s solid. Part of the fun about driving a pick-up in the city is that people generally avoid you. So no bumps.”

Of course, later he realizes that he’s now kind of stuck in a car in rush hour traffic with his ex and even though things were amiable in the morning, it’s a little awkward. He doesn’t know why he ends up asking about Daan, but it was natural to be curious right? He had just woken up in the man’s home. “Was it just me? Or did Daan seem annoyed with me this morning? Did you guys...talk about me last night? If it was an inconvenience having me over, I…”

Lukas snorts, which surprises Matthew, so he shuts up. “Oh God Matthew.” Lukas takes a breath. “Sorry I shouldn’t have laughed. I’m not laughing at you, and I shouldn’t be scoffing at Daan, there’s nothing funny about his situation, I’m just...anyway. Look, Daan isn’t annoyed with you, at all actually. He’s going through a transition right now, so there will be days he’s annoyed with everyone, but mostly himself. There will be days he’s not himself at all. That being said, if he gives you shit, don’t take it. What he’s going through isn’t your fault.”

A wave of worry and concern washes through Matthew for his newest friend, but if Daan has chosen not to share what’s happening with him, well, he’s not going to pry. Something occurs to him and since there’s an oddly open atmosphere between them right now, and he can’t really help but wonder, so he decides to ask.

“Back when I thought they were dating, it’s just hit me right now that you didn’t question me, you accepted it right away as if them together was really believable?” It is rather striking, now that Matthew thinks about it, that Lukas had accepted that scenario. If he had known those two for most his life and thought it was realistic that Daan and Mathias were together, well Matthew couldn’t really be blamed for having the wrong idea either.

Lukas nods slowly with a rueful smile. “Yeah, silly me. Mathias and I only became a thing when I moved back to Canada - after he had already done so much for Emil and my family, but that didn’t mean that I never...liked him before you know? Stupid teenage crushes. But back then I was just a weird neighbour that he knew and was nice to. But he and Daan? They’ve always been very close. Mathias could convince Daan to do all kinds of reckless or stupid things. Anyway, trust me, I know what it’s like when Daan actually is annoyed with someone. He really isn’t annoyed with you. Don’t let him scare you. Besides, you have it in you to be far scarier than he could hope to be.”

Matthew laughs. “Wait, what?! Where did that come from?” Lukas grins and shakes his head. “Matthew, green light.”

“Oh, right! Thanks. You know that’s not going to spare you from that. How am I scary?! Especially compared to Daan, that guy has made people cry with just a glance! I would never do that!”

But Lukas only laughs. “Have you seen this crying thing? Or is it a rumour?”

“It’s! Well...it’s…hmmm.”

Lukas just smirks and shakes his head at some internal thought. “How long have you and Daan been friends by the way?”

Matthew feels a worm of nervousness squirm in his stomach and tries to ignore it. “Took me by surprise to be honest, but the day after we...had dinner, I nearly got run over by a car and Daan was the Partner who was around and made sure I went to see a doctor. We’ve been ...I guess you could say friends since, but it still feels...I dunno, making friends is different when you’re not in school.” He doesn’t know if he’s grateful or not that he never told Lukas about the stupid crush. Well it would be really stupid to bring it up now. What would be the point? “When he’s not being a Partner he’s not that hard to speak to.”

Lukas nods but Matthew can’t see his expression because he has to focus on driving. “That hasn’t been very long.”

“No. Which is why I felt kind of awkward last night, this morning, and all but…” He shrugs. “Everyone was so nice about it, so...thanks again. I mean it, I’m especially grateful, you made sure I was never too out of place for too long. Sometimes it can be kinda lonely when you’re sitting with a group of people who have known each other forever you know?”

Lukas shakes his head and simply says. “No. Thank you.”

It’s the worst meeting he has ever managed in a long time - remotely or in person. Michelle throws him a worried look from her desk and Matthew decides it’s better to hand the meeting over to her instead. She’s technically a manager now, even though she had started this project before that promotion. Anyway, isn’t this the benefit of having more than one manager? If one is having a no-good ‘I’m stupid’ day, there’s a backup? Michelle reads the look on his face and takes over seamlessly. Meanwhile, Matthew mutes his phone and lets out an exasperated sigh. He can’t leave the meeting, but he wishes he could.

Waking up in a different place, Arthur’s problems, his own weird life and weird morning...Daan seemed to be irritated with him, and when Lukas left the car he felt something a little off there too. Or maybe he was just tired, paranoid and anxious, or maybe Matthew just wasn’t good at having his routine messed with.

Michelle handles the meeting with aplomb, there’s not much that he has to do thank goodness, but he’s angry at himself because it’s basic and easy stuff! He spent years of effort into learning how to lead meetings! He had always known it was a potential weakness of his so he’d practice and practice and practice until the freezing nerves mostly became butterfly nerves, but today the freezing nerves had come back. He choked. No matter what sweet words Francis had for him, it appears that there was a good reason why he wasn’t promoted, and Francis could tell. Partners are their magic psychic voodoo when it came to assessing people, shit.

What good was Matthew? No wonder Daan was annoyed with him, no wonder he wasn’t promoted, no wonder Lukas-

“HEY!”

What the?? “Michelle you gave me heart attack!”

Michelle looks down at him in front of his cubicle with a knowing look. “No Matt.” She says softly. “You were doing that to yourself. Come on boss. Early lunch.”

“Wha?”

“Come on! We’ve barely caught up lately and I want to have lunch with you!”

Technically it wasn’t against the rules, if they ate lunch now that just meant packing food and eating it at their desks when they got hungry again since they were eating at an odd hour. Matthew just didn’t want to be irresponsible after this ridiculous two-hour long walkout the last week he was at work before almost getting hit by a car and getting sick. The time away was supposed to have reset everything, this week was supposed to be him returning to normal.

Michelle waves at Francis and points at the door, Matthew doesn’t look because he can’t bear to at that moment, he’s still too raw, and all too happy to let Michelle take the lead. Which she does. She whisks him out the doors into sunlight and fresh air. City people doing their things, even city birds were different from their non-urban cousins. Everyone and everything with a purpose. Except him.

Michelle asks him questions about what he prefers, but thinking is too much effort right now. Maybe he’s just too slow after the enforced holiday. That’s it. Thankfully, Michelle doesn’t point it out, and before long, he’s seated outdoors across from her at a cozy cafe. It’s nice he supposes, but he can’t wave away the guilt building within for making her worry in the first place, or making her take over his work.

“Matt.” Michelle sighs as she slides a cheerful looking rainbow colored cake towards him. “Remember last year when you rescued me?”

What? It must show on his face because Michelle gently reminds him. “Run of the mill, presentation to department heads, I knew all of them, I knew my work, I knew my own findings. Then I just couldn’t explain them. And the more I couldn’t explain, the more I talked, the more I talked, the less sense I made, the less sense I made, the worse it got. Then you stepped in. You have this power Matt, you calm everything and everyone down. You’ve always been able to do that, but it’s just gotten better over the years. Today was just my chance to repay you, at least once. I also remember you telling me afterwards that it happens to all of us.”

Matthew shakes his head and smiles at her kindness. Good ol’ Michelle. “Shell, you had just found out right before you were about to present that your father had been admitted to the hospital. Your family is an 18 hour flight away. We’re only human, of course under such pressure we all need a little help from time to time.”

“Exactly! So...Let me help you! Are you okay to share what happened to you this morning? You came in kinda...out of sorts.”

Matthew can’t help how hot is face is getting, he can only imagine how red he looks right now.

“Oh. My. God! You got laid!”

“What?! No! N-” Matthew whips his head around. Yes it’s not exactly peak hour but there’s still people around damnit! “No, I didn’t get laid!” He whispers urgently, but he doesn’t know if his whisper is actually soft. “How could you-No!”

“Oh Mattie, is that why you’re upset? You didn’t get laid?” Michelle laughs

“NO! What?? Why would I?? No I didn’t-”

“I’m teasing, I’m teasing! Still, that flush is the same flush you used to have over Mr. 7th Floor. I’ve kinda missed seeing it.”

Matthew throws his hands up in the air. Fucking Mr 7th Floor. This is never going away. “Okay I’m not in the mood to put up with the teasing that is the fucking 7th floor. But who I am ready to talk about is Arthur.”

“Arthur?!”

“Yeah.”

And that was how “Project: RESCUE KING LEAR” was born. Why? Because it was Arthur, and as long as they were dealing with him, they were going to use his ridiculous naming conventions.

Perhaps, sensing his raw mood, Michelle decided to stay by his side for the rest of the day. By the end of the day, she also did something else that was magnificent - she took a load off his shoulders.

From: michelle.velle@pkde.ca

To: <FRENCH_ASSUR@pkde.ca>

Subject: PARTY KING LEAR

Okay everyone here’s the deal - Arthur may have left us for greener and noisier pastures but he still started with us and he’s gotten the big promotion. So...just to be clear, I’M PLANNING THE PARTAY!

There will be kiddies, so no alcohol but that doesn’t mean we’re not gonna remind Arthur that we’re better than any of those 7th floor loudspeakers (we’re hotter too ;) ;) )!

Keep your evenings clear - you’re all getting instructions from me soon.

It’s quiet and dark out when Matthew finishes up for the day. He only found his focus and stride halfway through the afternoon so he decided to stay to get caught up on everything. It was easier after everyone left - as much as he liked them, it was peaceful. He didn’t want to bring work home anymore.

Matthew isn’t the last person out of the building. There are other stragglers on his floor, but his team is tucked in a corner, so Matthew feels comfortable and left alone with himself. He stretches and yawns without care because no one is looking, making sure that he feels and hears the pops and little cracks in his back as he does so.

“Ugh...that feels good.” He’s been too fucking stiff lately. Matthew places his feet up on his desk and stares at the ceiling unseeing for a while. It doesn’t hurt to breathe a little and close his mind off from work before driving home. Of course, it’s at the very point that he feels the most comfortable that his stomach growls. Of course.

Matthew lets out a sigh. He doesn’t feel like cooking, and he’s a little too hungry to wait for takeout. He would prefer to just go home. Looked like it was going to be a vending machine dinner once he actually got the energy to -

“You’re not actually supposed to sleep here you know.”

What? Matthew reluctantly turns his head away from the white ceiling and - oh fuck. “What are you doing -” He knocks some books off his desk as he tries to get his feet off it - shit “here?” Smooth Matt. Real smooth. He sighs and doesn’t bother picking them up, he’ll do that after. Instead he looks up.

Daan looks tired. “You look tired.” Well it’s 9pm and the man is still in the office as well, so of course he is. “Well, it’s-uh...nevermind.”

“Yeah. So do you.”

Matthew really can’t be surprised by the awkward silence that followed. He’s awake enough to be grateful that the second time Daan turns up at his desk is when none of his colleagues are around. That puts a smile on his face.

Somehow, Daan is smiling now too. Objectively speaking, tired Daan smiling is a good look. It’s not like he’s grinning like a fiend or anything, it’s just that with his eyes a little bleary and the corners of his lips have moved up, it’s enough to just soften him a little.

“Anyway, what brings you down here? Well, up here?” Matthew finally lets out.

Daan shrugs. “I saw your status online, still logged into work. Realized you didn’t sleep well this morning, so if you were in, I thought I’d deliver some goods.” He says as he lifts both hands.  

It’s just two plain paper bags but damn, Matthew can smell the goodness from where he is. “How? Where?”

“Ordered delivery. For a couple of months now, I’ve made sure I order extra to make sure that Emil eats dinner too. Well he’s not working late today, so I figure. my mattress sucks or I need to tell my brother to shower more often. You did not look like a guy who slept well this morning.”

That makes Matthew laugh too much, he doesn’t know why. “Oh my God, don’t. The bed smelled fine, the sheets were nice. The mattress was firm, there was nothing wrong with your hospitality. Hell you even fed me, I haven’t been so pampered, ever! Stop being so nice, I’m alive, I’m thriving. But thanks.”

“So you don’t want-”

“Fuck yes, give me the food! ...please. I was just about to go home anyway. You  need a ride? Or are you going to cycle back? If not, I drive a pickup, your bike will fit in the back.”

Daan seems to chuckle as he rolls over a chair, picks up Matthew’s books, and settles down. “I shouldn’t cycle back when I’m this tired. Anyway, I’m not done yet, I actually have to get more shit down after this, need input from Japan, but I’ll call an Uber home. My bike is safely standing in my allocated parking spot. Everyone knows it’s my bike. No one fucks with it even when I leave it overnight. If they fuck with it-”

“Okay I get it. So your bicycle gets its own parking spot. My pickup is jealous.” Figures - Matthew can just imagine that orange bicycle proudly standing between Porsches and BMWs.

Daan looks up with mock disappointment. “Matthew really. You’re not going to let me boast about what happens to anyone who fucks with my bike?”

“Dude I’m hungry.” He was about to say ‘and I’m tired’ but it wasn’t quite as true now as it was just a few moments ago.

Daan shoves the bag over, shaking his head. “Eat up then. Even the young’uns aren’t here. So it’s just us old fogies.” He says, as he tears open his own paper bag.

“You’re eating at my desk?!”

Daan is trying his hardest not to grin now and barely manages to shrug. “What, did you think I was going to mess up my desk?”

“I can’t believe you.” Matthew rolls his chair over to hit Daan’s in revenge - what good are wheels for if you can’t use them for a little bumper chairs once in a while?

“Hey! Do you want a clean desk or not?!”

Matthew has to turn away because he’s grinning too hard. “You’re cleaning up my desk if it gets messed up-”

“What?”

“I swear, because you’re the one who-”

“That’s a great ‘thank you’ for bringing you food. Holy fuck Matthew Williams, after everyone said you’re the ‘epitome of what a gentleman is.’ I’m surprised.”

He shouldn’t be laughing this hard. “Excuse me you’re giving me Emil’s leftovers! Fine, I’ll go easy on you. But you need to tell me what people say about me in return. And that...was so totally Arthur omg. What else do they say?”

Matthew is pretty sure that Daan is making the rest of it up, but it doesn’t matter. It’s one of the best work dinners he’s had - ever.

[edgewaterfarmcsa]

CSA WEEK 14

P I C K L I S T

RASPBERRIES!!! - WATERMELON - GREEN KALE - LEMONGRASS - ASIAN EGGPLANT - THAI BASIL - SWEET CARMEN PEPPERS - SHISHITO PEPPERS - DANGJO CHEONG YANG HOT PEP - CARROTS - ONION - GARLIC

 Pooh Sprague (original farmer at Edgewater with wife and fastest bean picker Anne) infrequently updates a blog on our website -Pooh’s Corner- that offers his seasonal farming perspective etc… he posted this on Tuesday (September 14th), just in time for the CSA newsletter, thought yall might like checking in on Pooh’s thoughts…

 PRO-TIPS:

Shishitooooosssss!!  You know what to do, but if you have forgotten: bring these peps right to your pan or grill, shmear in olive oil and fry or grill until popped and blistered.  Salt and Devour immediately

FOR NOTES ON LEMONGRASS AND HOW TO USE: 

Scroll back to week 10 and read up on all things lemongrass. 

 BUT FOR MY FAVORITE THING TO DO WITH LEMONGRASS, SEE:

 TOM KHA SOUP (Thai coconut chicken soup with chicken, mushroom and coconut milk)

8 oz. (226 g) boneless and skinless chicken, breast or thighs, cut into strips or thin pieces

20 canned straw mushrooms

1 1/2 cups coconut milk

1 cup water

1 stalk lemongrass, cut into 3-inch lengths and pounded

6 kaffir lime leaves , lightly bruised to release the flavor

6 slices galangal

8 bird's eye chilies, lightly pounded

3 tablespoons fish sauce

2 1/2 tablespoons lime juice or to taste

1 tablespoon chopped cilantro

Add water, lemongrass, galangal, chilies, kaffir lime leaves into a pot and bring it to boil. Add straw mushrooms and chicken and boil it on medium heat for a few minutes or until the chicken is cooked through. Add coconut milk and boil for a couple more minutes. Turn off the heat and add lime juice and fish sauce to taste. Add chopped cilantro before serving.

If you can't find galangal, do not use ginger. Ginger is not the substitute for galangal. "Tom Kha" means galangal in Thai. However, if you absolutely can't find galangal and still wish to make this because you love this soup so much, just make it without galangal.

 https://rasamalaysia.com/tom-kha-gai-recipe-thai-coconut-chicken-soup/

 Spicy eggplant from the burma superstar cook book

Curry style eggplant awesome over rice.

 3 Japanese Eggplants, cut into 1-inch cubes (about 6 cups)

1 teaspoon salt

2 ½ tablespoons canola oil

2 cups finely diced yellow onion

3 tablespoons minced garlic

1 tablespoon minced ginger

1-2 Thai chiles, thinly sliced or 2 tablespoons minced jalapeno

1 small dried chile, broken in half, seeds retained

2 teaspoons shrimp paste

½ teaspoon turmeric

½ teaspoon paprika

1 teaspoon fish sauce

Handful of fried garlic chips (for how to on garlic chips: again head to our CSA BLOG and scroll back to CSA week 6)

Cilantro or thai basil sprigs for garnish

1 lime or lemon cut into wedges for garnish

 Season the eggplant with salt and scatter onto a clean dish towel.  Let it sit while you prepare the remaining ingredients, at least 10 minutes.  Once the eggplant begins to bead with water, wrap the towel lightly and squeeze to remove excess liquid from the eggplant.  

 In a wok or pot, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil over medium-high heat.  Add the eggplant, lower the heat to medium, and cook, stirring often, until the eggplant begins to soften, about 4 minutes.  Using a slotted spoon, scoop out the eggplant and transfer to a plate.  

 Heat the remaining 1 ½ tablespoons of oil in the wok.  Add the onions and cook over medium-low heat, stirring often to prevent scorching, until softened, about 4 minutes.  Stir in the garlic, ginger, fresh and fried chiles, and shrimp paste and cook until the onions are completely soft and starting to turn golden, 3 more minutes.  

 Add the turmeric and paprika and then stir in the eggplant and about ½ cup of water.  Lower to a gentle simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, until the eggplant is very soft and most of the water has evaporated, about 5 minutes.  Season with fish sauce, adding more for a saltier flavor, and squeeze a wedge or two of lime over the top.  Serve in a bowl and top with cilantro (and or thai basil!).  Offer extra lime wedges along side.   

 The 7th Inning Stretch September 14, 2021:   We are approaching mid September here. School is back in session and as if that weren’t a wake-up call, we are staring down the ultimate harbinger of fall with the arrival of the World’s Fair in Tunbridge, VT. Surely the days will start getting much shorter now, and we often remark about it. We will see the breaking out of sweatshirts, neoprene picking gloves, rain gear and wool toques. In their orange rain pants the crew looks like they just came off the boat from the TV series “Deadliest Catch.” As the season winds down, many farmers are licking their seasonal wounds. We are -in farmer terms- “just past the 7th inning stretch” in our seasons, and there is still much to accomplish. This includes a lot of planting and seeding within the greenhouses to serve the late fall CSA. Our onions are gathered up, the first of three plantings of carrots up and in the cooler, and if Mike can find enough parts between our two old potato harvesters to make one functional harvester, we will soon be digging our 6 acres of potatoes. Once that crop is all graded, sized and stored in our barn, we can start washing and shipping them. We can then turn our attention to: cleaning up the place; planting next year’s garlic; readying the strawberries with sprays and mulching for next spring; fixing broken doors and sills in our funky collection of old greenhouses. Then the contracts will expire on the Jamaican crew, and they will head home to tend their own farms by early November. Plenty to do, and seemingly insufficient time and bodies to make it through the list. I have heard the muttering of “I wouldn’t mind a good frost now….” and this time it didn’t come from my lips first. On many farms, the wet July here in the Twin States brought forth an epic surge of weed germination and growth…and Edgewater was no exception. We daily watched the galinsoga engulf the strawberries, with no spare hours available to get in there and clean it out. We are looking for a good frost to freeze it down, leaving the strawberries to bask in the filtering fall sunlight without competition. Fortunately, the strawberry plants are in very good shape, and we are (perhaps foolishly) getting optimistic about our spring prospects. But everyone is busy harvesting and packing out 10 hours a day, and soon the light levels will dictate just how long we will be able to work in the fields. Despite a crop failure with pumpkins and winter squash, we have an almost epic fall raspberries crop. Trying to harvest and move that crop is mopping up a lot of extra hours. In the farmstand we have had to close down on Mondays for the rest of the season, because of a labor shortage, and we have had to reschedule the help we have. Labor shortage or not, our melons,tomatoes, pepper, cut flowers, leeks will be out there for another 4 weeks unless a frost stops them in their steps. Weather continues to be the biggest challenge and unknown for farmers, along with a dearth of local labor. Our season started hot and droughty from the end of March until the end of June. It was abnormally hot for so early in the growing season, and that created some minor problems in the greenhouses, but there was a non-stop 10-15 mph breeze or wind that just never abated. I felt like we were trying to farm in Pueblo, Colorado. The lack of rain was tough enough, but the constant wind withered and devastated transplanted crops. Then, the weather changed, and in 20 minutes we got an inch of rain, and it then continued to rain off and on for a month. A lot of disease showed up, so we were confronted with trading one extreme problem for another. However, August turned up benignly normal, and with adequate moisture the potatoes sized up and the field tomatoes and melons kicked into gear. We have been challenged, but thus far undamaged, by hurricanes. Many of my seacoast friends prepared for the worst wind event they hoped never to see. Weather models were in constant flux for us here in the Upper Valley. On the Saturday that Hurricane Ida was making landfall on Long Island, the forecast for us from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration was calling for a range of 2-12” of rain. I understand that weather forecasting is not an exact science, but for me there is a big difference in the amount that 2” dumps and what 12 “ would look like. At two inches I would get the tractor bucket out after the storm passes, and do a little touch-up work on our gravel roads and driveways. After twelve inches in so few hours I would be knee-deep in insurance claims, as well as sleeping and cooking meals in our farmstand….for a long time, too. What did we really get in the end? In what was forecast to be the middle of the storm, I went out and mowed my lawn. And I could not have been happier to be doing so. Fall will always be a great season to me. There is plenty of natural color in the pumpkins, ornamental corn, and chrysanthemums as well as on the trees in the woods. The warmth in this season is welcome, as opposed to the intense sun and heat of summer. Fall crops roll into the pack house: beets, potatoes, turnip, carrots. Onions, garlic, leeks and cabbage. When it's cold, we can add a couple of thin layers of clothes to keep warm until the sun burns through the fall fogs and warms us. Migratory birds come and go, and soon we will start to lure the songbirds to the birdfeeders. In deep fall, the woodstove starts to operate with greater frequency. Then one day in November, it (the woodstove) will start its full time nonstop operation until late April, when the sun once more strengthens its grip on us all.

 PRO-TIPS:

Shishitooooosssss!!  You know what to do, but if you have forgotten: bring these peps right to your pan or grill, shmear in olive oil and fry or grill until popped and blistered.  Salt and Devour immediately

 FOR NOTES ON LEMONGRASS AND HOW TO USE:  head to the CSA blog - yes! Did you know that these newsletters get posted weekly on our web page? https://www.edgewaterfarm.com/csa-blog… 

Scroll back to week 10 and read up on all things lemongrass. 

 BUT FOR MY FAVORITE THING TO DO WITH LEMONGRASS, SEE:

 TOM KHA SOUP (Thai coconut chicken soup with chicken, mushroom and coconut milk)

8 oz. (226 g) boneless and skinless chicken, breast or thighs, cut into strips or thin pieces

20 canned straw mushrooms

1 1/2 cups coconut milk

1 cup water

1 stalk lemongrass, cut into 3-inch lengths and pounded

6 kaffir lime leaves , lightly bruised to release the flavor

6 slices galangal

8 bird's eye chilies, lightly pounded

3 tablespoons fish sauce

2 1/2 tablespoons lime juice or to taste

1 tablespoon chopped cilantro

Add water, lemongrass, galangal, chilies, kaffir lime leaves into a pot and bring it to boil. Add straw mushrooms and chicken and boil it on medium heat for a few minutes or until the chicken is cooked through. Add coconut milk and boil for a couple more minutes. Turn off the heat and add lime juice and fish sauce to taste. Add chopped cilantro before serving.

If you can't find galangal, do not use ginger. Ginger is not the substitute for galangal. "Tom Kha" means galangal in Thai. However, if you absolutely can't find galangal and still wish to make this because you love this soup so much, just make it without galangal.

 https://rasamalaysia.com/tom-kha-gai-recipe-thai-coconut-chicken-soup/

 Spicy eggplant from the burma superstar cook book

Curry style eggplant awesome over rice.

 3 Japanese Eggplants, cut into 1-inch cubes (about 6 cups)

1 teaspoon salt

2 ½ tablespoons canola oil

2 cups finely diced yellow onion

3 tablespoons minced garlic

1 tablespoon minced ginger

1-2 Thai chiles, thinly sliced or 2 tablespoons minced jalapeno

1 small dried chile, broken in half, seeds retained

2 teaspoons shrimp paste

½ teaspoon turmeric

½ teaspoon paprika

1 teaspoon fish sauce

Handful of fried garlic chips (for how to on garlic chips: again head to our CSA BLOG and scroll back to CSA week 6)

Cilantro or thai basil sprigs for garnish

1 lime or lemon cut into wedges for garnish

 Season the eggplant with salt and scatter onto a clean dish towel.  Let it sit while you prepare the remaining ingredients, at least 10 minutes.  Once the eggplant begins to bead with water, wrap the towel lightly and squeeze to remove excess liquid from the eggplant.  

 In a wok or pot, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil over medium-high heat.  Add the eggplant, lower the heat to medium, and cook, stirring often, until the eggplant begins to soften, about 4 minutes.  Using a slotted spoon, scoop out the eggplant and transfer to a plate.  

 Heat the remaining 1 ½ tablespoons of oil in the wok.  Add the onions and cook over medium-low heat, stirring often to prevent scorching, until softened, about 4 minutes.  Stir in the garlic, ginger, fresh and fried chiles, and shrimp paste and cook until the onions are completely soft and starting to turn golden, 3 more minutes.  

 Add the turmeric and paprika and then stir in the eggplant and about ½ cup of water.  Lower to a gentle simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, until the eggplant is very soft and most of the water has evaporated, about 5 minutes.  Season with fish sauce, adding more for a saltier flavor, and squeeze a wedge or two of lime over the top.  Serve in a bowl and top with cilantro (and or thai basil!).  Offer extra lime wedges along side.   

 The 7th Inning Stretch September 14, 2021:   We are approaching mid September here. School is back in session and as if that weren’t a wake-up call, we are staring down the ultimate harbinger of fall with the arrival of the World’s Fair in Tunbridge, VT. Surely the days will start getting much shorter now, and we often remark about it. We will see the breaking out of sweatshirts, neoprene picking gloves, rain gear and wool toques. In their orange rain pants the crew looks like they just came off the boat from the TV series “Deadliest Catch.” As the season winds down, many farmers are licking their seasonal wounds. We are -in farmer terms- “just past the 7th inning stretch” in our seasons, and there is still much to accomplish. This includes a lot of planting and seeding within the greenhouses to serve the late fall CSA. Our onions are gathered up, the first of three plantings of carrots up and in the cooler, and if Mike can find enough parts between our two old potato harvesters to make one functional harvester, we will soon be digging our 6 acres of potatoes. Once that crop is all graded, sized and stored in our barn, we can start washing and shipping them. We can then turn our attention to: cleaning up the place; planting next year’s garlic; readying the strawberries with sprays and mulching for next spring; fixing broken doors and sills in our funky collection of old greenhouses. Then the contracts will expire on the Jamaican crew, and they will head home to tend their own farms by early November. Plenty to do, and seemingly insufficient time and bodies to make it through the list. I have heard the muttering of “I wouldn’t mind a good frost now….” and this time it didn’t come from my lips first. On many farms, the wet July here in the Twin States brought forth an epic surge of weed germination and growth…and Edgewater was no exception. We daily watched the galinsoga engulf the strawberries, with no spare hours available to get in there and clean it out. We are looking for a good frost to freeze it down, leaving the strawberries to bask in the filtering fall sunlight without competition. Fortunately, the strawberry plants are in very good shape, and we are (perhaps foolishly) getting optimistic about our spring prospects. But everyone is busy harvesting and packing out 10 hours a day, and soon the light levels will dictate just how long we will be able to work in the fields. Despite a crop failure with pumpkins and winter squash, we have an almost epic fall raspberries crop. Trying to harvest and move that crop is mopping up a lot of extra hours. In the farmstand we have had to close down on Mondays for the rest of the season, because of a labor shortage, and we have had to reschedule the help we have. Labor shortage or not, our melons,tomatoes, pepper, cut flowers, leeks will be out there for another 4 weeks unless a frost stops them in their steps. Weather continues to be the biggest challenge and unknown for farmers, along with a dearth of local labor. Our season started hot and droughty from the end of March until the end of June. It was abnormally hot for so early in the growing season, and that created some minor problems in the greenhouses, but there was a non-stop 10-15 mph breeze or wind that just never abated. I felt like we were trying to farm in Pueblo, Colorado. The lack of rain was tough enough, but the constant wind withered and devastated transplanted crops. Then, the weather changed, and in 20 minutes we got an inch of rain, and it then continued to rain off and on for a month. A lot of disease showed up, so we were confronted with trading one extreme problem for another. However, August turned up benignly normal, and with adequate moisture the potatoes sized up and the field tomatoes and melons kicked into gear. We have been challenged, but thus far undamaged, by hurricanes. Many of my seacoast friends prepared for the worst wind event they hoped never to see. Weather models were in constant flux for us here in the Upper Valley. On the Saturday that Hurricane Ida was making landfall on Long Island, the forecast for us from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration was calling for a range of 2-12” of rain. I understand that weather forecasting is not an exact science, but for me there is a big difference in the amount that 2” dumps and what 12 “ would look like. At two inches I would get the tractor bucket out after the storm passes, and do a little touch-up work on our gravel roads and driveways. After twelve inches in so few hours I would be knee-deep in insurance claims, as well as sleeping and cooking meals in our farmstand….for a long time, too. What did we really get in the end? In what was forecast to be the middle of the storm, I went out and mowed my lawn. And I could not have been happier to be doing so. Fall will always be a great season to me. There is plenty of natural color in the pumpkins, ornamental corn, and chrysanthemums as well as on the trees in the woods. The warmth in this season is welcome, as opposed to the intense sun and heat of summer. Fall crops roll into the pack house: beets, potatoes, turnip, carrots. Onions, garlic, leeks and cabbage. When it's cold, we can add a couple of thin layers of clothes to keep warm until the sun burns through the fall fogs and warms us. Migratory birds come and go, and soon we will start to lure the songbirds to the birdfeeders. In deep fall, the woodstove starts to operate with greater frequency. Then one day in November, it (the woodstove) will start its full time nonstop operation until late April, when the sun once more strengthens its grip on us all.

 PRO-TIPS:

Shishitooooosssss!!  You know what to do, but if you have forgotten: bring these peps right to your pan or grill, shmear in olive oil and fry or grill until popped and blistered.  Salt and Devour immediately

 FOR NOTES ON LEMONGRASS AND HOW TO USE:  head to the CSA blog - yes! Did you know that these newsletters get posted weekly on our web page? https://www.edgewaterfarm.com/csa-blog… 

Scroll back to week 10 and read up on all things lemongrass. 

 BUT FOR MY FAVORITE THING TO DO WITH LEMONGRASS, SEE:

 TOM KHA SOUP (Thai coconut chicken soup with chicken, mushroom and coconut milk)

8 oz. (226 g) boneless and skinless chicken, breast or thighs, cut into strips or thin pieces

20 canned straw mushrooms

1 1/2 cups coconut milk

1 cup water

1 stalk lemongrass, cut into 3-inch lengths and pounded

6 kaffir lime leaves , lightly bruised to release the flavor

6 slices galangal

8 bird's eye chilies, lightly pounded

3 tablespoons fish sauce

2 1/2 tablespoons lime juice or to taste

1 tablespoon chopped cilantro

Add water, lemongrass, galangal, chilies, kaffir lime leaves into a pot and bring it to boil. Add straw mushrooms and chicken and boil it on medium heat for a few minutes or until the chicken is cooked through. Add coconut milk and boil for a couple more minutes. Turn off the heat and add lime juice and fish sauce to taste. Add chopped cilantro before serving.

If you can't find galangal, do not use ginger. Ginger is not the substitute for galangal. "Tom Kha" means galangal in Thai. However, if you absolutely can't find galangal and still wish to make this because you love this soup so much, just make it without galangal.

 https://rasamalaysia.com/tom-kha-gai-recipe-thai-coconut-chicken-soup/

 Spicy eggplant from the burma superstar cook book

Curry style eggplant awesome over rice.

 3 Japanese Eggplants, cut into 1-inch cubes (about 6 cups)

1 teaspoon salt

2 ½ tablespoons canola oil

2 cups finely diced yellow onion

3 tablespoons minced garlic

1 tablespoon minced ginger

1-2 Thai chiles, thinly sliced or 2 tablespoons minced jalapeno

1 small dried chile, broken in half, seeds retained

2 teaspoons shrimp paste

½ teaspoon turmeric

½ teaspoon paprika

1 teaspoon fish sauce

Handful of fried garlic chips (for how to on garlic chips: again head to our CSA BLOG and scroll back to CSA week 6)

Cilantro or thai basil sprigs for garnish

1 lime or lemon cut into wedges for garnish

 Season the eggplant with salt and scatter onto a clean dish towel.  Let it sit while you prepare the remaining ingredients, at least 10 minutes.  Once the eggplant begins to bead with water, wrap the towel lightly and squeeze to remove excess liquid from the eggplant.  

 In a wok or pot, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil over medium-high heat.  Add the eggplant, lower the heat to medium, and cook, stirring often, until the eggplant begins to soften, about 4 minutes.  Using a slotted spoon, scoop out the eggplant and transfer to a plate.  

 Heat the remaining 1 ½ tablespoons of oil in the wok.  Add the onions and cook over medium-low heat, stirring often to prevent scorching, until softened, about 4 minutes.  Stir in the garlic, ginger, fresh and fried chiles, and shrimp paste and cook until the onions are completely soft and starting to turn golden, 3 more minutes.  

 Add the turmeric and paprika and then stir in the eggplant and about ½ cup of water.  Lower to a gentle simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, until the eggplant is very soft and most of the water has evaporated, about 5 minutes.  Season with fish sauce, adding more for a saltier flavor, and squeeze a wedge or two of lime over the top.  Serve in a bowl and top with cilantro (and or thai basil!).  Offer extra lime wedges along side.   

The 7th Inning Stretch September 14, 2021:   We are approaching mid September here. School is back in session and as if that weren’t a wake-up call, we are staring down the ultimate harbinger of fall with the arrival of the World’s Fair in Tunbridge, VT. Surely the days will start getting much shorter now, and we often remark about it. We will see the breaking out of sweatshirts, neoprene picking gloves, rain gear and wool toques. In their orange rain pants the crew looks like they just came off the boat from the TV series “Deadliest Catch.” As the season winds down, many farmers are licking their seasonal wounds. We are -in farmer terms- “just past the 7th inning stretch” in our seasons, and there is still much to accomplish. This includes a lot of planting and seeding within the greenhouses to serve the late fall CSA. Our onions are gathered up, the first of three plantings of carrots up and in the cooler, and if Mike can find enough parts between our two old potato harvesters to make one functional harvester, we will soon be digging our 6 acres of potatoes. Once that crop is all graded, sized and stored in our barn, we can start washing and shipping them. We can then turn our attention to: cleaning up the place; planting next year’s garlic; readying the strawberries with sprays and mulching for next spring; fixing broken doors and sills in our funky collection of old greenhouses. Then the contracts will expire on the Jamaican crew, and they will head home to tend their own farms by early November. Plenty to do, and seemingly insufficient time and bodies to make it through the list. I have heard the muttering of “I wouldn’t mind a good frost now….” and this time it didn’t come from my lips first. On many farms, the wet July here in the Twin States brought forth an epic surge of weed germination and growth…and Edgewater was no exception. We daily watched the galinsoga engulf the strawberries, with no spare hours available to get in there and clean it out. We are looking for a good frost to freeze it down, leaving the strawberries to bask in the filtering fall sunlight without competition. Fortunately, the strawberry plants are in very good shape, and we are (perhaps foolishly) getting optimistic about our spring prospects. But everyone is busy harvesting and packing out 10 hours a day, and soon the light levels will dictate just how long we will be able to work in the fields. Despite a crop failure with pumpkins and winter squash, we have an almost epic fall raspberries crop. Trying to harvest and move that crop is mopping up a lot of extra hours. In the farmstand we have had to close down on Mondays for the rest of the season, because of a labor shortage, and we have had to reschedule the help we have. Labor shortage or not, our melons,tomatoes, pepper, cut flowers, leeks will be out there for another 4 weeks unless a frost stops them in their steps. Weather continues to be the biggest challenge and unknown for farmers, along with a dearth of local labor. Our season started hot and droughty from the end of March until the end of June. It was abnormally hot for so early in the growing season, and that created some minor problems in the greenhouses, but there was a non-stop 10-15 mph breeze or wind that just never abated. I felt like we were trying to farm in Pueblo, Colorado. The lack of rain was tough enough, but the constant wind withered and devastated transplanted crops. Then, the weather changed, and in 20 minutes we got an inch of rain, and it then continued to rain off and on for a month. A lot of disease showed up, so we were confronted with trading one extreme problem for another. However, August turned up benignly normal, and with adequate moisture the potatoes sized up and the field tomatoes and melons kicked into gear. We have been challenged, but thus far undamaged, by hurricanes. Many of my seacoast friends prepared for the worst wind event they hoped never to see. Weather models were in constant flux for us here in the Upper Valley. On the Saturday that Hurricane Ida was making landfall on Long Island, the forecast for us from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration was calling for a range of 2-12” of rain. I understand that weather forecasting is not an exact science, but for me there is a big difference in the amount that 2” dumps and what 12 “ would look like. At two inches I would get the tractor bucket out after the storm passes, and do a little touch-up work on our gravel roads and driveways. After twelve inches in so few hours I would be knee-deep in insurance claims, as well as sleeping and cooking meals in our farmstand….for a long time, too. What did we really get in the end? In what was forecast to be the middle of the storm, I went out and mowed my lawn. And I could not have been happier to be doing so. Fall will always be a great season to me. There is plenty of natural color in the pumpkins, ornamental corn, and chrysanthemums as well as on the trees in the woods. The warmth in this season is welcome, as opposed to the intense sun and heat of summer. Fall crops roll into the pack house: beets, potatoes, turnip, carrots. Onions, garlic, leeks and cabbage. When it's cold, we can add a couple of thin layers of clothes to keep warm until the sun burns through the fall fogs and warms us. Migratory birds come and go, and soon we will start to lure the songbirds to the birdfeeders. In deep fall, the woodstove starts to operate with greater frequency. Then one day in November, it (the woodstove) will start its full time nonstop operation until late April, when the sun once more strengthens its grip on us all.

 PRO-TIPS:

Shishitooooosssss!!  You know what to do, but if you have forgotten: bring these peps right to your pan or grill, shmear in olive oil and fry or grill until popped and blistered.  Salt and Devour immediately

 FOR NOTES ON LEMONGRASS AND HOW TO USE:  head to the CSA blog - yes! Did you know that these newsletters get posted weekly on our web page? https://www.edgewaterfarm.com/csa-blog… 

Scroll back to week 10 and read up on all things lemongrass. 

 BUT FOR MY FAVORITE THING TO DO WITH LEMONGRASS, SEE:

 TOM KHA SOUP (Thai coconut chicken soup with chicken, mushroom and coconut milk)

8 oz. (226 g) boneless and skinless chicken, breast or thighs, cut into strips or thin pieces

20 canned straw mushrooms

1 1/2 cups coconut milk

1 cup water

1 stalk lemongrass, cut into 3-inch lengths and pounded

6 kaffir lime leaves , lightly bruised to release the flavor

6 slices galangal

8 bird's eye chilies, lightly pounded

3 tablespoons fish sauce

2 1/2 tablespoons lime juice or to taste

1 tablespoon chopped cilantro

Add water, lemongrass, galangal, chilies, kaffir lime leaves into a pot and bring it to boil. Add straw mushrooms and chicken and boil it on medium heat for a few minutes or until the chicken is cooked through. Add coconut milk and boil for a couple more minutes. Turn off the heat and add lime juice and fish sauce to taste. Add chopped cilantro before serving.

If you can't find galangal, do not use ginger. Ginger is not the substitute for galangal. "Tom Kha" means galangal in Thai. However, if you absolutely can't find galangal and still wish to make this because you love this soup so much, just make it without galangal.

 https://rasamalaysia.com/tom-kha-gai-recipe-thai-coconut-chicken-soup/

 Spicy eggplant from the burma superstar cook book

Curry style eggplant awesome over rice.

 3 Japanese Eggplants, cut into 1-inch cubes (about 6 cups)

1 teaspoon salt

2 ½ tablespoons canola oil

2 cups finely diced yellow onion

3 tablespoons minced garlic

1 tablespoon minced ginger

1-2 Thai chiles, thinly sliced or 2 tablespoons minced jalapeno

1 small dried chile, broken in half, seeds retained

2 teaspoons shrimp paste

½ teaspoon turmeric

½ teaspoon paprika

1 teaspoon fish sauce

Handful of fried garlic chips (for how to on garlic chips: again head to our CSA BLOG and scroll back to CSA week 6)

Cilantro or thai basil sprigs for garnish

1 lime or lemon cut into wedges for garnish

 Season the eggplant with salt and scatter onto a clean dish towel.  Let it sit while you prepare the remaining ingredients, at least 10 minutes.  Once the eggplant begins to bead with water, wrap the towel lightly and squeeze to remove excess liquid from the eggplant.  

 In a wok or pot, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil over medium-high heat.  Add the eggplant, lower the heat to medium, and cook, stirring often, until the eggplant begins to soften, about 4 minutes.  Using a slotted spoon, scoop out the eggplant and transfer to a plate.  

 Heat the remaining 1 ½ tablespoons of oil in the wok.  Add the onions and cook over medium-low heat, stirring often to prevent scorching, until softened, about 4 minutes.  Stir in the garlic, ginger, fresh and fried chiles, and shrimp paste and cook until the onions are completely soft and starting to turn golden, 3 more minutes.  

 Add the turmeric and paprika and then stir in the eggplant and about ½ cup of water.  Lower to a gentle simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, until the eggplant is very soft and most of the water has evaporated, about 5 minutes.  Season with fish sauce, adding more for a saltier flavor, and squeeze a wedge or two of lime over the top.  Serve in a bowl and top with cilantro (and or thai basil!).  Offer extra lime wedges along side.   

 The 7th Inning Stretch September 14, 2021:   We are approaching mid September here. School is back in session and as if that weren’t a wake-up call, we are staring down the ultimate harbinger of fall with the arrival of the World’s Fair in Tunbridge, VT. Surely the days will start getting much shorter now, and we often remark about it. We will see the breaking out of sweatshirts, neoprene picking gloves, rain gear and wool toques. In their orange rain pants the crew looks like they just came off the boat from the TV series “Deadliest Catch.” As the season winds down, many farmers are licking their seasonal wounds. We are -in farmer terms- “just past the 7th inning stretch” in our seasons, and there is still much to accomplish. This includes a lot of planting and seeding within the greenhouses to serve the late fall CSA. Our onions are gathered up, the first of three plantings of carrots up and in the cooler, and if Mike can find enough parts between our two old potato harvesters to make one functional harvester, we will soon be digging our 6 acres of potatoes. Once that crop is all graded, sized and stored in our barn, we can start washing and shipping them. We can then turn our attention to: cleaning up the place; planting next year’s garlic; readying the strawberries with sprays and mulching for next spring; fixing broken doors and sills in our funky collection of old greenhouses. Then the contracts will expire on the Jamaican crew, and they will head home to tend their own farms by early November. Plenty to do, and seemingly insufficient time and bodies to make it through the list. I have heard the muttering of “I wouldn’t mind a good frost now….” and this time it didn’t come from my lips first. On many farms, the wet July here in the Twin States brought forth an epic surge of weed germination and growth…and Edgewater was no exception. We daily watched the galinsoga engulf the strawberries, with no spare hours available to get in there and clean it out. We are looking for a good frost to freeze it down, leaving the strawberries to bask in the filtering fall sunlight without competition. Fortunately, the strawberry plants are in very good shape, and we are (perhaps foolishly) getting optimistic about our spring prospects. But everyone is busy harvesting and packing out 10 hours a day, and soon the light levels will dictate just how long we will be able to work in the fields. Despite a crop failure with pumpkins and winter squash, we have an almost epic fall raspberries crop. Trying to harvest and move that crop is mopping up a lot of extra hours. In the farmstand we have had to close down on Mondays for the rest of the season, because of a labor shortage, and we have had to reschedule the help we have. Labor shortage or not, our melons,tomatoes, pepper, cut flowers, leeks will be out there for another 4 weeks unless a frost stops them in their steps. Weather continues to be the biggest challenge and unknown for farmers, along with a dearth of local labor. Our season started hot and droughty from the end of March until the end of June. It was abnormally hot for so early in the growing season, and that created some minor problems in the greenhouses, but there was a non-stop 10-15 mph breeze or wind that just never abated. I felt like we were trying to farm in Pueblo, Colorado. The lack of rain was tough enough, but the constant wind withered and devastated transplanted crops. Then, the weather changed, and in 20 minutes we got an inch of rain, and it then continued to rain off and on for a month. A lot of disease showed up, so we were confronted with trading one extreme problem for another. However, August turned up benignly normal, and with adequate moisture the potatoes sized up and the field tomatoes and melons kicked into gear. We have been challenged, but thus far undamaged, by hurricanes. Many of my seacoast friends prepared for the worst wind event they hoped never to see. Weather models were in constant flux for us here in the Upper Valley. On the Saturday that Hurricane Ida was making landfall on Long Island, the forecast for us from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration was calling for a range of 2-12” of rain. I understand that weather forecasting is not an exact science, but for me there is a big difference in the amount that 2” dumps and what 12 “ would look like. At two inches I would get the tractor bucket out after the storm passes, and do a little touch-up work on our gravel roads and driveways. After twelve inches in so few hours I would be knee-deep in insurance claims, as well as sleeping and cooking meals in our farmstand….for a long time, too. What did we really get in the end? In what was forecast to be the middle of the storm, I went out and mowed my lawn. And I could not have been happier to be doing so. Fall will always be a great season to me. There is plenty of natural color in the pumpkins, ornamental corn, and chrysanthemums as well as on the trees in the woods. The warmth in this season is welcome, as opposed to the intense sun and heat of summer. Fall crops roll into the pack house: beets, potatoes, turnip, carrots. Onions, garlic, leeks and cabbage. When it's cold, we can add a couple of thin layers of clothes to keep warm until the sun burns through the fall fogs and warms us. Migratory birds come and go, and soon we will start to lure the songbirds to the birdfeeders. In deep fall, the woodstove starts to operate with greater frequency. Then one day in November, it (the woodstove) will start its full time nonstop operation until late April, when the sun once more strengthens its grip on us all.

 PRO-TIPS:

Shishitooooosssss!!  You know what to do, but if you have forgotten: bring these peps right to your pan or grill, shmear in olive oil and fry or grill until popped and blistered.  Salt and Devour immediately

 FOR NOTES ON LEMONGRASS AND HOW TO USE:  head to the CSA blog - yes! Did you know that these newsletters get posted weekly on our web page? https://www.edgewaterfarm.com/csa-blog… 

Scroll back to week 10 and read up on all things lemongrass. 

 BUT FOR MY FAVORITE THING TO DO WITH LEMONGRASS, SEE:

TOM KHA SOUP (Thai coconut chicken soup with chicken, mushroom and coconut milk)

8 oz. (226 g) boneless and skinless chicken, breast or thighs, cut into strips or thin pieces

20 canned straw mushrooms

1 1/2 cups coconut milk

1 cup water

1 stalk lemongrass, cut into 3-inch lengths and pounded

6 kaffir lime leaves , lightly bruised to release the flavor

6 slices galangal

8 bird's eye chilies, lightly pounded

3 tablespoons fish sauce

2 1/2 tablespoons lime juice or to taste

1 tablespoon chopped cilantro

Add water, lemongrass, galangal, chilies, kaffir lime leaves into a pot and bring it to boil. Add straw mushrooms and chicken and boil it on medium heat for a few minutes or until the chicken is cooked through. Add coconut milk and boil for a couple more minutes. Turn off the heat and add lime juice and fish sauce to taste. Add chopped cilantro before serving.

If you can't find galangal, do not use ginger. Ginger is not the substitute for galangal. "Tom Kha" means galangal in Thai. However, if you absolutely can't find galangal and still wish to make this because you love this soup so much, just make it without galangal.

Spicy eggplant from the burma superstar cook book

Curry style eggplant awesome over rice. 

3 Japanese Eggplants, cut into 1-inch cubes (about 6 cups)

1 teaspoon salt

2 ½ tablespoons canola oil

2 cups finely diced yellow onion

3 tablespoons minced garlic

1 tablespoon minced ginger

1-2 Thai chiles, thinly sliced or 2 tablespoons minced jalapeno

1 small dried chile, broken in half, seeds retained

2 teaspoons shrimp paste

½ teaspoon turmeric

½ teaspoon paprika

1 teaspoon fish sauce

Handful of fried garlic chips (for how to on garlic chips: again head to our CSA BLOG and scroll back to CSA week 6)

Cilantro or thai basil sprigs for garnish

1 lime or lemon cut into wedges for garnish

 Season the eggplant with salt and scatter onto a clean dish towel.  Let it sit while you prepare the remaining ingredients, at least 10 minutes.  Once the eggplant begins to bead with water, wrap the towel lightly and squeeze to remove excess liquid from the eggplant.  

 In a wok or pot, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil over medium-high heat.  Add the eggplant, lower the heat to medium, and cook, stirring often, until the eggplant begins to soften, about 4 minutes.  Using a slotted spoon, scoop out the eggplant and transfer to a plate.  

 Heat the remaining 1 ½ tablespoons of oil in the wok.  Add the onions and cook over medium-low heat, stirring often to prevent scorching, until softened, about 4 minutes.  Stir in the garlic, ginger, fresh and fried chiles, and shrimp paste and cook until the onions are completely soft and starting to turn golden, 3 more minutes.  

 Add the turmeric and paprika and then stir in the eggplant and about ½ cup of water.  Lower to a gentle simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, until the eggplant is very soft and most of the water has evaporated, about 5 minutes.  Season with fish sauce, adding more for a saltier flavor, and squeeze a wedge or two of lime over the top.  Serve in a bowl and top with cilantro (and or thai basil!).  Offer extra lime wedges along side.   

[walkingdeadfan25]

 Surprise Surprise Imagine: Telling Jamie Reagan you’re pregnant Kids. You had always wanted them. You knew Jamie did too but you had only been engaged for four months now. You weren’t expecting to be expecting so soon. You were ecstatic but worried about how Jamie and the other Reagans would take the news. Jamie had decided to take a few extra hours and was afraid it was putting a strain on your relationship. He was exaggerating, because there was no strain on your relationship till now. That’s what led you to your excessive pacing in your apartment while you waited on the pregnancy test results. You missed your period and didn’t know what to do so you waited a few days to see if it was just flake because it had happened before where your menstrual cycle was later than usual. Once it was clear you weren’t having Mother Nature’s monthly visit, you panicked and called the first female who popped into your head: Linda. As soon as she heard the slight panic in your voice, she told you to stay put and rushed over to see you. Luckily Jamie was out on patrol and wouldn’t be home for bit.  “(Y/N) what’s wrong Hun? Are you hurt?” “N-No. I-I’m… not fine. I missed my period and I think I’m pregnant but I’m so scared.”, you said as the waterworks began.  Linda pulled you towards the couch and you two sat as she pulled you into a loving motherly embrace. She let you cry into her shoulder as she stroked your hair, murmuring calming words. Once the tears subsided, she gently wiped your tears away and smiled at you. “To be sure, let’s go get some tests. I’ll be here with you every step of the way. As for being SCSRED that is normal for first-time mothers. I was that way and so was Erin.” With those encouraging words she led you outside and you went to the closest drug store and bought four pregnancy tests. You also purchased a bottle of water to drink to speed up the process. By the time you made it back to the apartment, the water was working it’s magic and you had to pee. You rushed to the bathroom where you, for the first time ever, peed on a stick, say that five times fast. You went about business and laid the sticks on the counter to do whatever sticks that have been urinated on, do. You left the bathroom after washing your hands and began pacing. Linda let you pace, she knew that in stressful situations it’s best to let you do what you need to in order to figure things out and when you needed help, you’d ask. She was secretly happy to have another niece or nephew. Plus, she knew you and Jamie would make wonderful parents, if how you two interacted with her kids and Nikki were anything to go by. It seemed you both had natural maternal and paternal instincts. The allotted time for the tests passed and Linda walked over to you. You grasped her hand. “I’m nervous and scared. What if I’m pregnant and Jamie doesn’t want him or her? What if he leaves me? What of we’re not good parents? What are the others going to think?” Linda laughed lightly. “Oh (Y/N) you worry for nothing. It’s okay to feel all these emotions but know this: Jamie loves you and if you’re pregnant he will love this baby or babies because you helped make them, not to mention he’d have a kid of his own to spoil. As for being parents you both will do a perfect job. Look how you are with my kids and Nikki. The others will be happy for you. Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but Francis has been dying for another grandchild and you know the others will be happy for you two. So just take a deep breath and let’s go check these tests!” For the first time that day a smile graced your lips. When you checked the tests, sure enough a little Jamie would be entering the world soon. Despite your earlier nerves you couldn’t help but feel love and joy spread and infuse your being. The child growing inside you couldn’t help end up being one of the best things to ever happen to you. You jumped into Linda’s armadas you two yelled in excitement and spun around like two teens. “How do you plan on telling Jamie?” “Father’s Day is what, tomorrow? I could get him a card with a note from our child. That way I could tell everyone at once and make it special. What do you think?” “I think that’s great and don’t worry my lips are sealed. So what do you say, want to go pick out a Father’s Day card with me? I have to get ones for Henry, Francis and Danny.” “Sure! I’ll have to get them cards too.” And off you went again but this time with a spring in your step and joy in your heart. Once you had the cards in hand, you and Linda split ways and you headed home to prepare dinner, the cards and dispose of the tests except one which would be Jamie’s present. Sounds stupid right, who would want a peed on stick for a present, but this was no ordinary pee stick, this pee stick held a bright and wonderful future. When Jamie came home that night he noticed a glow about you that hadn’t been there before but let you be. He had no clue what was ahead. The next day you headed over to the Reagan’s house for Father’s Day Dinner. After dinner, everyone headed into the living room for gifts. Everyone passed around the cards and gifts but you saved yours for last. Once you had given Francis, Henry and Danny there’s you looked over to Linda, who winked, and you pulled out a little purple box with a blue ribbon attached with a small card underneath the ribbon. “I have one last thing to give out. ”, you said as you approached Jamie. You handed him the box and he looked at it in confusion. He pulled the card out and read it aloud. “I know this is early but I already know you’re going to be the best dad ever. Can’t wait to see you. Happy Father’s Day.” He looked to you wonder fulling his eyes. “Is this serious?” You only replied with, “Open the box.” He wasted no time and opened the box to find a cleaned pregnancy test with a pink little plus sign. “Y-Youre - we’re gonna be-”, he didn’t finish the sentence as he jumped up and hugged you pressing a kiss to your lips. “Yes. You, Jamie, are going to be a dad and a do good one. ” Tears lightly filled his eyes as he held you close. The entire living room erupted into cheers and happy remarks as everyone joined in a family hug sending you and Jamie congratulations. No one could tell who was happier, Francis or Jamie. And it was the first of many amazing Father’s Days in the Reagan household.

[letterfromtrenwith]

The Proper Attire

A Francis/Demelza fic.

This fits in with my AU fic ‘The Old World’. It’s not necessary to have read that one to understand this one, but I would very much appreciate it if you did! :D

Francis met and fell in love with Demelza while Ross was away. They’re now married, and Francis comes home from a business trip to find his wife’s got some new clothes, although they’re not exactly what you’d expect the mistress of Trenwith to wear....

----

“For to hear the fond tale, Of the sweet nightingale, As she sings in the valley below…”

Francis smiled to himself as the melodious tones of Demelza’s voice reached his ears. While spending a few days in St Ives on business, he had been surprised by how homesick he felt. Of course, it was not really his home that he missed, but the woman he now shared it with. His marriage to Demelza had made him even happier than he could have possibly imagined – more than worth every obstacle they had had to overcome to be together.

He had been delighted, therefore, to conclude his business the day before expected and return home early. He was looking forward to surprising her, so had been pleased to hear her voice floating out of the stables as he led Bess toward them. Demelza was fond of the horses, and often spent time with them. Rounding the corner, he opened his mouth to greet her and immediately stopped short.  

“Pray sit yourself down, With me on the ground, On the bank where the primroses grow…Oh, Judas! Francis!” She had turned from where she was brushing her own horse, Liddy, and startled at the sight of him. Obviously, she had not been expecting to see him – he in turn had not been expecting to see her like this.

She was dressed in his clothes – a pair of breeches and an old shirt, open part way down her chest, exposing the almost indecently fine material of her chemise underneath. With this she wore a pair of her own riding boots, and her hair flowed loose around her shoulders. She looked magnificent, and horrendously embarrassed.

“I weren’t expectin’ you back until the morn! I’d never ‘ave – Not if I thought that – Oh!” She dropped the brush and darted out of the stables, rushing past Francis and towards the house without so much as a by your leave. He stood in shock for a moment before recovering himself and leading Bess to her stall.

~

By the time he returned to the house after taking care of his horse, Demelza had changed into a simple green day dress and tidied her hair somewhat. She still looked beautiful – she always did – but not quite as…alluring as she had before.

“Welcome home, Francis. How were St Ives? If I’d’a known you was comin’ back early, I would’ve ‘ad a proper welcome arranged. Are you hungry? I’ll ‘ave something made, and let me get you a brandy…” She rambled, coming to take his coat and hat, acting so much like he had just arrived that he almost wondered if he had entirely imagined her appearance at the stables. Demelza obviously did not wish to discuss it, so he decided to let it lie for now.

“Demelza, slow down! Will you not at least let me kiss my wife hello?” He asked teasingly and she blushed before coming back to him for a kiss, ‘hmm’ing softly as he pressed his lips to hers.

“I did miss thee,” she said eventually, after they broke apart.

“And I you, Demelza, very much indeed.” He was about to suggest that they retire to their chamber, where he could show her just how much, when a voice floated out from the sitting room.

“That you, Francis? Well, don’t leave an old woman waiting…” Agatha. Francis and Demelza smiled at one another, before he kissed her on the forehead and made for the doorway.

“Coming, Aunt.”

~

As Demelza was clearly determined to act as if it had never happened, Francis tried to put their brief encounter at the stables out of his mind, but was completely unable to. He imagined she was embarrassed at having been caught wearing men’s clothes, and under ordinary circumstances, she had every reason to be. Such a thing was quite scandalous, especially for a woman who occupied the position she now did in society. She may have been a miner’s daughter once, but she was now the mistress of Trenwith, and a Poldark. There had been enough gossip about her when they married; a revelation of that sort would increase it ten-fold.  Not that anyone was likely to find out – Demelza had obviously attempted to avoid him seeing her, had doubtless avoided Charles and Agatha also, and their servants were trustworthy.

It was not Demelza’s embarrassment which kept the incident in his mind, however, as much as he wished she did not feel it. He could not forget the sight of her – finding his mind wandering back to it often, and not only when he had an idle moment.  The way the breeches had hung loose on her slim hips, the material of the shirt seeming to somehow both skim over and cling to her body. He had seen her in men’s clothing once before – not long after they had met, he had run into her in Truro, disguised as a boy, dressed in her brother’s clothes. It had intrigued him, then, as had her later admission that she often went abroad dressed in such a fashion – but this was different. It had inflamed him.

He could not get the thought out of his head, and was finding himself distracted at the most inopportune moments. This had led to a rather awkward interlude a few days previously when George, noticing his preoccupation during their lunch at the Red Lion, had asked him if all was well. Francis had stuttered something about simply being concerned with the fortunes of the mine, which was not entirely untrue. George had obviously known that he was dissembling, but had not pushed it further. Even if he had, Francis could hardly have told him that he was unable to concentrate on their conversation due to salacious thoughts about Demelza wearing breeches. There were certain things which one simply did not share, even with one’s closest friend. George was not easily perturbed, but Francis imagined even he had his limits.  

~

About ten days after Francis’ return from St Ives, he and Demelza were left alone in the sitting room after dinner. She smiled sweetly at him over her embroidery as they sat by the fireplace, unlit in the warm late-spring weather. They had been silent as she worked, and he skimmed some accounts, which gave him little better news than usual; it was not quite as comfortable a silence as they generally shared, however.  Since his arrival they had acted quite normally with each other –as gentle and affectionate as ever, but there had been a slight undercurrent of awkwardness.

Demelza had seemed a little on edge with him, almost as if she were expecting him to scold her. He hoped she knew him better than that, but he also knew that she had lived on eggshells in her old home, forever doing all she could to avoid her father’s wrath, but learning to expect it anyway. She knew that he was nothing like her father, of course, but he supposed it was difficult to break the habits of a lifetime. After all, he had no little experience with ill-tempered fathers himself.

That last thing he wanted, however, was for Demelza to feel embarrassed, or to have any secrets from her. So he took the bull by the horns.

“Demelza…”

“Yes, Francis?” She looked up from her sewing, the candlelight illuminating her pale blue eyes.  

“About the day I returned from St Ives…” Her face coloured and she dropped her sewing, looking distraught.

“Oh, Francis, I be ever so sorry! It were only for lookin’ after Liddy, I swear! An’ you never wear those things…I never would ‘ave done it if I’d know you were comin’ and I’ve never let anyone see me. I’ll never do it again, I promise!...I know it not be fittin’.” Her words came out in a rush before trailing off to her conclusion, and Francis rushed to reassure her, seeing unshed tears pooling in her eyes.

“Oh, Demelza, do not distress yourself, my love. When have you ever known me to concern myself with what is “fittin’?” Even in her upset, she could help but laugh at his deliberately poor imitation of her accent, which had been his intention.

“You are…not cross, then?” She frowned slightly, as if she could not work out why that might be. Francis smiled.  

“Come here,” she took his outstretched hand and allowed him to pull her onto his lap, slipping his arms about her waist. Her hands settled on the lapels of his waistcoat, and she looked at him from under red-gold eyelashes as he spoke. “I am quite the opposite of cross. Demelza, ever since that day I haven’t been able to forget the sight of you dressed in my clothes. Indeed, I found it very pleasing.”

He gently slid his hand up her back, hoping to emphasise his meaning. Judging by the silent ‘o’ of surprise and understanding formed by her lips, he had been successful.

“I see,” she began, speaking low and soft. “Well…I be glad we got that settled. I’ll be off to bed, then. Don’t work too late. Good night.”

A quick kiss, then she was off his lap and out of the door, leaving Francis bewildered. Later, after around half an hour of futilely attempting to concentrate on his papers, he made his own way upstairs. Pausing outside Demelza’s chamber, he prevaricated for a moment – they spent most nights together, but after her abrupt departure, he was not sure that he had not offended her. Except, he had felt the quickening of her breath at his admission, and noted the flush on her cheeks. In truth, he was confused. It was best, therefore, to simply ask. He tapped on the door.

“Demelza, may I come in?”

“O’ course, Francis.” He entered, and opened his mouth to ask her…Well, upon catching sight of her, he clean forgot what he had been going to ask. She sat on the end of her bed, dressed much as she had been in the stables – in a pair of his breeches, and a shirt. However, this time she wore, as far he could tell, nothing else. Her legs were bare below the knee, and the shirt, which was open almost to her waist, exposed nothing but pale skin. She had let her hair down and regarded him with a saucy glint in her eye.

“I be sorry for runnin’ off so sudden like, but I ‘ad to make some time t’get ready.”

Francis was aware he probably looked an idiot, gaping like a fish, but confronted with this vision, he was entirely lost for words. Demelza took pity on him and stood, approaching him with what he was certain was a deliberately exaggerated sway of her hips. He settled a hand at her waist, wondering at the strangeness of feeling the distinctly feminine curves of her body under the material of his own clothing. He trailed the fingertips of his other hand down the bared skin of her chest, making her shiver and gasp, before kissing her, passionately.

“You know,” he said, finally finding his voice as their kiss broke, “I’ve never removed a shirt from another person before.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everythin’, I suppose. I misdoubt it’ll be the last, ‘owever.”      

[zillowcondo]

The Beauty & Make-up Products I Use & Love Daily

“Glowing skin is a result of proper skincare. It means you can wear less makeup and let your skin shine through.” —Michel Coulombe, make-up artist for Laura Mercier

A few weeks ago, a reader of TSLL commented on this segment shown on KATU in Portland regarding my makeup and skincare and asked a couple of questions about the products I used. While I will not profess to have the knowledge of a beauty expert, I will go so far as to say if we have been tending to our skin since young adulthood, noticing what works, what doesn’t and why, we come to be quite proficient and understanding the worthwhile power in investing in good skincare.

One of the most significant ahas I had regarding what skincare worked best and why I had trouble with breakouts as a young adult as well as at various times in my twenties is something I shared in detail in this episode of the podcast (as well as a post), 8 Ways to Create Glowing Skin.

Since that post in 2014, I wrote this post this past spring sharing my 8 Favorite Skincare Products; however, it was brought to my attention by Janis’ question mentioned above that I haven’t put both my daily skincare as well as makeup choices and recommendations in one post.

Much like the clothing we wear, the food we eat, the people we bring into our lives, what we put on our skin must be quality if we expect a quality result. As a young woman in my early twenties, I couldn’t afford La Mer, but continually remember hearing and reading about its magic. And while it has admittedly a significant marketing budget, there is a reason it continues to be beloved by customers around the globe – it works.

As shared in June’s Ask Shannon episode of the podcast (#161), the best makeup choices any of us can make are to care for our skin. As we grow older in years, it is not inevitable that our face will appear similar to those who came before us who didn’t perhaps have the knowledge of how to take care of their skin. Our visages become a book full of our journeys, what we consume, how we live our lives and our attitudes about life. Upon recognizing the power of good skincare, assuredly, you will spend more money on serums, moisturizers and masques, but I have a feeling, if you’re like me, you’ll spend less money on actual make-up and begin to see a younger, healthier you looking back at you in the mirror.

Below is a list of what I use on a daily basis. I have combination skin and live in a high desert climate (extremely dry). I have been prone to breakouts in my T-zone all of my life; however, when I adhere to the proper regimen (listed below), it is rare to have even one pimple each month even during times of elevated progesterone during my menstruation cycle. To view other products I use, love and recommend that are bi-weekly, weekly or used less often, check out TSLL Beauty Shop.

~Note: None of the items listed are sponsored. This is entirely a list of items I use currently and highly recommend. There are affiliate links incorporated into some of the items.

Morning

~Warm Water: a splash of water on my face (I do not cleanse in the morning to reduce excess dryness)

~Caudalie Premier Cru The Elixir: A light facial oil and serum combination firms and smooths the skin. I use one dime size amount and massage it onto my entire face, décolletage and entire neck (front and back).

OR Rodin olio lusso Jasmine & Neroli Face Oil: Living in an extremely dry climate I have gravitated toward using Rodin’s facial oil as it is more deeply moisturizing but still clean. My skin glows every time. While expensive, if my budget doesn’t allow for this purchase, I defer to Caudalie’s Elixir (above) which is half the price and still quite wonderful.

~Caudalie Premier Cru La Crème Riche: A deep facial moisturizer. I have gone back and forth between this jar and La Mer’s Crème de la Mer.  I sought out Caudalie’s La Crème Riche as it came highly recommended and the price per ounce was far cheaper. Currently, I am using Caudalie’s and I couldn’t be happier as the difference is very slight. I purchased from Amazon and saved even more money.

~La Roche Posey’s Anthelios 60 spf Face Sunscreen (ultra-light fluid): Every single morning, I add this sunscreen to my face and chest. It is weightless and effective. Consumer Reports recently placed La Roche Posey on the list of one of the most highly effective and trusted sunscreens. For the past four years or so I have been using it without disappointment.

~Eminence Lavender Age Corrective Night Eye Cream: A light eye-cream I place around the entirety of my eye. I shared more about my love for the Eminence organic skincare brand here.

Make-Up

~Colorscience Primer: The first layer of make-up I put on my skin is a primer as it smooths out any redness and feels like silk on the skin. It also enables me to only use tinted moisturizer rather than foundation.

~Bobbi Brown’s Creamy Concealer in Cool Sand

~Bobbi Brown’s Sheer Finish Pressed Powder in Pale Yellow: I brush it lightly on top of my concealer under my eyes.

~Bobbi Brown’s Nude Finish Tinted Moisturizer, spf 15 in Light to Medium

~Nars blush in Orgasm

~Bobbi Brown’s Shimmer Brick Compact in Pink Quartz: I dust a sprinkle of this shimmer on my collarbone, cheekbones and anywhere else I want a little extra glow

~Eyes: Bobbi Brown’s Long-Wear Cream Shadow in Bone, Eye Shadow in Bone, Shimmer Wash Eye Shadow in Champagne and Lilac

~Eyebrows: Bobbi Brown’s Eye Shadow in Blonde

~Bobbi Brown’s Long Wear Gel Eyeliner in Black

~Bobbi Brown’s No Smudge Mascara in Black

~Bobbi Brown’s Lip Gloss in Buff

~(for a simpler, more casual make-up routine, I will simply wear concealer, long-wear cream shadow, blush, shimmer and mascara.)

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Before Bed

~Cetaphil: a gentle cleanser with warm water to remove the day’s grit, sweat and dust.

~(same as AM) Caudalie Premier Cru The Elixir: A light facial oil and serum combination which firms and smooths the skin. I use one dime size amount and massage it onto my entire face, décolletage and entire neck (front and back).

OR (same as AM) Rodin olio lusso Jasmine & Neroli Face Oil: Living in an extremely dry climate I have gravitated toward using Rodin’s facial oil as it is more deeply moisturizing but still clean. My skin glows every time. While expensive, if my budget doesn’t allow for this purchase, I defer to Caudalie’s Elixir (above) which is half the price and still quite wonderful.

~(same as AM) Caudalie Premier Cru La Crème Riche: A deep facial moisturizer. I have gone back and forth between this jar and La Mer’s Crème de la Mer.  I sought out Caudalie’s La Crème Riche as it came highly recommended and the price per ounce was far cheaper. Currently, I am using Caudalie’s and I couldn’t be happier as the difference is very slight. I purchased from Amazon and saved even more money.

~La Roche Posay Redermic R Eyes Anti-Aging Retinol Eye Cream: Again La Roche Posay is a brand I trust, and upon beginning to use their eye cream (they have a few different options) in March I noticed an improvement in the firmness of the skin  around my eyes.

~Beeseline: An all-natural, organic alternative to Vaseline. I love Beeseline throughout the day to moisturize my lips and especially before I go to bed.

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As well, along with good skincare a few habits to practice:

Hydrate all day: Drink water from the moment you wake up (have a glass next to your bed), throughout the day, make it your drink of choice and one large glass before falling asleep.

Limit your alcohol: While I will always want to enjoy a glass of wine with a delicious meal as the flavors of both are enhanced, keeping alcohol consumption low reduces dehydration of your skin.

Eat well: Check out this post which dives deep into how to feed your body well which is reflected in your skin.

Reduce or eliminate unnecessary stress: Any time my skin has broken out, even if I am adhering to my above regimen, it is because of heightened stress in my life. Read this post to discover how to reduce unnecessary stress.

Consistent moderate exercise: Find something you love, make a date with yourself, a friend, your pets to partake five days a week and make it your ritual.

The added bonus of curating a skin regimen you love and you know works is the way it feels to pamper you skin. I look forward at the end of the day, adding my moisturizer and feeling my skin immediately get a boost of life after a long day at work or outside. While I know not all or maybe only a few of my recommendations will work for you based on what your skin and lifestyle need, it is with full confidence that I share this list with you today. Having sensitive skin, the process has been a journey, and I am just ecstatic to have found products I love and ones that love my skin.

If you have any questions, feel free to leave a comment and I will do my best to answer.

The Beauty & Make-up Products I Use & Love Daily published first on http://ift.tt/2pewpEF

[twentysomethinginorlando]

What's With the Duffy Bear?

New Post has been published on https://twentysomethinginorlando.com/duffy-bear/

What's With the Duffy Bear?

Mickey’s Teddy Bear, Duffy, my favorite thing in the entire world. I get asked about my Duffy obsession quite a bit, or just get made fun of for it. Most people don’t like Duffy because they see him as a character created simply to sell merchandise and make money. (I hate to break it to you, but that’s most Disney characters these days.) However to me, he is much more than that.

Photo by 2 Pro Photography.

They announced Duffy on the Disney Parks Blog in September of 2010, literally a month after my grand Disney World Vacation. I thought he was adorable, and I wanted one desperately. At the time he was Park exclusive, you couldn’t find him online except Ebay. My mom had a coworker who went to Disney and the next Christmas I found him under the tree. In 2012, I finally got to meet him when I went to Disneyland for the first time when I found him in California Adventure. He didn’t have a line so I got to spend lots of time with him, and I have a hilarious picture of him

going “Rawr” at the camera. I was doing a nature photography assignment for school and my teacher told us not to photograph bears so we wouldn’t get eaten… Naturally I asked Duffy to pretend to eat me. Duffy seemed to appreciate my sense of humor, my professor did not.

  When I moved into college program housing I was already over packed with lots of cooking and cleaning supplies my mom thought would be important. She insisted I only take one stuffed animal, and as much as I love Duffy, the Mickey Mouse I’ve had since I was a baby was my first choice. On that first day playing in the parks, when none of my roommates could go with me, I took my Mickey and the first thing we did upon arriving at Epcot was go see Duffy.

My first time meeting Duffy at Epcot.

Unfortunately for Mom, my roommate bought a Duffy. This led to most of the rest of my roommates getting them as well. Determined not to be left out, I made her send mine. I immediately bought him a Sorcerer Mickey outfit and the Duffy book.

The story of Duffy is that Minnie made him for Mickey so he wouldn’t get homesick when he was away on adventures. Being away from home and

my mom, that’s exactly what Duffy turned into for me. It’s hard living in the same town in the same house your whole life and then moving eleven hours away. The more homesick I felt the more I loved that little bear, and the more I heard other people talk about not liking him the more I had to love him to make up for everyone else. It would become a tradition that I would not go to Epcot without stopping to see my beloved bear, and sometimes I would go there just to see him. I didn’t have a lot of friends when I first moved down here, and I was lonely a lot. Duffy was always happy to see me whenever I needed a hug. Pretty soon my collection started multiplying. It wasn’t long before I was in double digits.

In late summer 2014, two wonderful things happened. First, Disney announced that Shellie May, the girl bear who Minnie made so Duffy would have his own special friend, would now be available at Aulani. I know the exact moment I saw this announcement: I was standing in Cosmic Rays in Magic Kingdom with my best friend from home. She had come to visit me before she moved to Hawaii to spend some time with her parents. Right island and everything. Cue the begging! The second wonderful thing was Tokyo Disneyland’s announcement of Gelatoni: Duffy’s new friend who was an Italian cat who painted using his tail for a brush. Although he was adorable, I knew he would be much harder to get.

The day after my birthday, a box from Hawaii showed up, and I could have not been happier. I got a laptop and a stuffed bear for my birthday-guess which one I was more excited about!

Saying good-bye to Duffy. Photo by Disney Photopass.

Gelatoni would not be acquired until the next summer. After trying several other avenues, one was finally ordered on Ebay from a top rated seller. (There’s a surprising amount of counterfeit Duffy merchandise online so I’m always hesitant.) A few months after that, one of the earlier attempts paid off and another one showed up in the mail!

Then in October 2015, something terrible happened. I found out Duffy was leaving Epcot, and they were replacing him with Daisy Duck. His last day was going to be October 3rd, so I cleared the whole day. I packed up Duffy, Shellie May and Gelatoni, and all of Duffy’s outfits with my Mickey and a painting of Duffy I had done. I spent all day going through his line over and over again. In all my visits to Duffy, my bear never had more than a ten minute wait, but when they found out he was leaving, lots of people came to say good-bye so his line was over an hour. I saw him five times, and I spent the last part of the night letting people go in front of me until they closed off the line so I could be the last one to see him and say good-bye. I’m very proud I made it out of the park before I started to cry.

Pluto has replaced Daisy in that spot, but I will never stop hating that Duck.

Duffy wants to pull out the Sword in the Stone. Photo by 2 Pro Photography.

Now I’m saving up to go to Tokyo Disney, because in their second park is Cape Cod, which is basically Duffy-land. You can meet him and Shellie May, in addition to the two little shows they have there. They have all sorts of merchandise that gets released seasonally and an entire event dedicated to Duffy in late winter to early spring called “My Sweet Duffy”. In Hong Kong, you can even meet Gelatoni! I am hoping to go sometime in 2020 for the 15th Anniversary of Duffy Bear, he was released in 2005 in Japan, because Tokyo Disneysea had a huge event that lasted for several months for his 10th Anniversary in 2015. Trying to save would be easier if I didn’t keep falling in love with merchandise from overseas. Last month a new friend of Duffy was announced in Japan. Her name is Stella Lou and she is a bunny ballerina that dreams of dancing on Broadway. I don’t have her yet, but I am working on it.

I have an Oswald’s Garage Duffy exclusive to California Adventure. Shellie May, outfits, and key chains from Aulani. Coffee mugs, hand sanitizer, and post it notes from Hong Kong. Outfits, Gelatoni, a jacket, candy cases and more from Tokyo, and ears and the Tron outfit from Shanghai. I have so, so much stuff from Walt Disney World. Now I just need something from Paris and I’ll have something from every corner of the globe. Or at least, everywhere there’s Disney.

Duffy jacket exclusive to Japan. Photo by Disney Photopass.

The tagline for the My Sweet Duffy event is “Duffy brings love”, and you better believe he does.

[timracek]

Oma

I’ve pretended to be a writer since I was fourteen years old and never, in the last eleven years, has anything been as difficult to write than this.  There is no one I’ve met in my life more deserving of being remembered than Oma, and I feel completely overwhelmed because I will not come close to capturing what she meant to me and and our family, but I am obligated to try. This is by no means meant to be anything close to a definitive story, just my own observations and what she talked to me about.

***

Dorothea Aleith was born on July 1st, 1929 in Helmstedt, Germany.  She didn’t know much about her parents early years. From the best that we could figure, her father, Hermann’s family came from Helmstedt and her mother Gerturd’s from somewhere farther east. Her Father had fought in the first world war as a teenager. He spent most of the war in a prison camp. He was a jack of all trades, working at various points as a coal miner, an airplane mechanic, a groomsman at the city stables, an air raid warden, a baker, and a gardner. She still had a postcard he sent to his parents from the front lines in 1915.

                           (Her father, the X on the right and his brother.)

The closest I’ve ever seen Oma come to bragging was when she talked about her father. She liked to talk about how he could take apart and reassemble an engine without assistance. How, when he worked at the stables, he would bring her and sisters to ride on the horses once a week when he exercised them. How much bread he could smuggle home in specially stitched pockets in his coat. How big he could grow fruits and vegetables in their garden (gooseberries the size of large marbles, strawberries the size of a man’s fist.) He was a chess master and always carried a portable game with him. He would easily beat her husband the few times they played.

Her parents sang opera together in the parlor.

We didn’t talk much about her mother, but when I was a kid she took me with her to leave flowers on her grave.

                                (Gertrud with her new Daughters)

***

One of her favorite stories to tell was about her own birth: How her parents had picked a name out for their first child, her twin sister Herte, but were unprepared when they found out there was another baby still to come, which sent her father sprinting across town to find the doctor.  They were at a loss as to what to call this surprise child.

Their Grandmother, Dorothea, had a suggestion.

      (Twins, with their Aunt and Uncle and Grandparents, including Dorothea.)

When they were growing up, Oma baby sat neighborhood children. Many of whom were still writing her. One of them sent his own son, Alex, to live with her for a summer.

She liked to swim in a local pond in the springs.

During the war, She would listen to the BBC on a radio they hid in the house somewhere. She loved when they played her favorite, the Glenn Miller band.

Oma spent most of her life living like someone on borrowed time.  She and her sisters had health problems their whole lives. Oma was born with a bad heart valve, she had tonsilitis at a time when that wasn’t a simple procedure, and when she was a teenager she almost died of diptheria. She was told that she couldn’t have children or she would die. At age 32 she had her fifth and final child, my mother.

***

Oma had the kind of life that, to figure out what year a certain story took place in depended on whether or not her train was strafed by fighter planes.

When they were fourteen, Oma and her sister were sent to work as maids, in a town nearly 400 miles away.  Oma was given to a family of four, the father was school teacher. Herte was given to a farm, she had a learn how to milk cows. Oma thought she had the better deal, until her family accused her of stealing a watch and the school teacher father arrived in his full nazi officer uniform to interrogate her. They eventually found the watch in one of his other suits.

That March, Oma was bedridden with tonsillitis. The mother of the family would crack the door open once a day to check if she was still alive and slide a sandwich in for her only meal. Once Herte found this out, she came and told the family she was taking her sister home. They agreed, but stipulated that if they didn’t return soon they’d send the police after them.  It was on the train ride home they had to evacuate several time into ditches alongside the tracks because the train was being strafed by fighter planes.

When they returned home, Oma described this great image, of her with a crazy high fever, and her sister walking down the streets of Helmstedt on an unseasonably warm day, both of them wearing fur coats, and happening to bump into their parents on mainstreet.

Their parents would not allow them to go back.

                            (Oma with her sisters, Lisa and Herte)

***

During the war, Oma got so many love letters from local boys who were away fighting that she made Herte answer some of them for her.

They called her the ‘Shirley Temple of Helmstedt.

My grandfather was one of 30 Americans stationed in Helmstedt. The first time he saw her walking in town, he told one of his friends he was going to marry her.

The first time Gerturd really believed he was serious about marrying her daughter was when he showed up outside their house with a diamond ring and called into the open window: ‘Mama, do you think I mean business now?’  It was the first time they had ever seen the diamond, and Oma said it caught the light and flashed at them in an impossibly cliched movie moment. They became the talk of the town. ‘Oh look, she has a diamond.’

After the second world war, her father was sent away to a temporary camp for political prisoners. There he could only correspond with his family on postcards, in 25 words or less.

It was in 25 words or less that Oma explained she had met a GI and he had proposed and whether she should marry him.

He wrote back that she should.

She made her own wedding dress from a parachute my grandfather somehow got a hold of.

My grandparents had to marry three times. Once for the government, once for the Army, and once in a church. The church wedding was last, and it was moments before that wedding that her father returned home.

She never saw him again.

She also received a necklace and a poem from her namesake grandmother. The last line of the poem was ‘We will never meet again.”

***

                                             (Meeting the in-laws.)

Her first impression of the United States was shock that cars came in colors other than black.

Their first license plate number was ‘86’

She couldn’t believe that her father-in-law’s house didn’t have a bathroom, but an outhouse, and to battle the heat they had an electric fan blowing over a block of ice.

She told me that her father-in-law couldn’t believe how pretty she was, and how lucky my grandfather was. 

She thought my grandfather’s brother, Douglas, was a brat.

                       (Oma in St. Louis in a dress she made herself.)

***

My grandfather was in the Military for 22 years. Together they lived in Monmouth, Alaska, Missouri, New Mexico, Almost Maine and finally back to New Jersey.

She hated Missouri, she refused to live there alone while my Grandfather was deployed in Korea.

She wouldn’t even get out of the car in Maine, where my Grandfather had bought a 100 acre farm, sight unseen. He sold it shortly thereafter.

***

In 1975 they bought five acres in Howell.  This is where I grew up. Where I spent every day of my life from birth until I turned five, and as often as I could after that.

Oma told me that if she had wanted my first language to be German, it would be German.

My Grandfather often referred to their swimming pool as ‘The best twenty thousand dollars I ever spent.’

That place was eden to me. When I was growing up, at my own house if my dad asked me to mow the lawn I’d rather set myself on fire. At Oma’s it was a privilege. I was never happier than when I was raking leaves there, or cutting wood, or mowing the back acres.

She made the best pancakes and bacon. And cheesecake. She would always make me a cheesecake at Thanksgiving and Christmas.  She made the most incredible soup. When I told her she had to teach me how she would shrug and say ‘Eh, I just threw it together.’

When I was growing up, every Wednesday she’d come to our house to clean and do laundry. Because I guess she needed more work to do?

Wednesdays are still inexplicably my favorite day of the week.

Every holiday memory I have growing up is with Oma at Oma’s, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, Memorial Day, 4th of July. It was always at Oma’s.

She was never unhappy to see you. Even when you brought all the toys out of the basement and left them scattered across the house. Even after I almost blew everyone up on the 4th of July, 2007.

I loved sleeping over there. I loved staying there so much, I would even though she made me go to church on Sundays, which I did not love.

Her favorite TV show was ‘Keeping Up Appearances,’ But she always made time to watch Antique Roadshow.

When I see pictures of her now, there’s something off about her. To me, they’re missing some part of her, something you can’t capture on film. Some kind of spark that was there always. Her drive I guess. She was always busy, always doing things. After she turned 70 she went to hike in Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming and Glacier National Park in Alaska, spelunking in crazy caves, whitewater rafting.

The only time I met her sister Lisa was after they had spent the day riding roller coasters at Great Adventure. I was jealous she didn’t take me too. This last Christmas, she complained that she never thought she would be in bed doing nothing all day. She was 87.

She died on her father's 121st birthday.

The first time it hit me was when I was going through my notebooks where I had written down as many of the stories she told me as I could. I frequently noted ‘Find out more,’ or ‘Ask about this.’

Now I can’t.

***

I found a letter my Mom wrote to her during her Sophomore year of college, which Oma had saved, and I’m putting it here without her permission because it’s too perfect not to.

“ Dear Mom,

I just wanted to write to you and thank you for all the things you’ve one for me. You really are a real mom. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything for your birthday. I like giving you things, but there is always Christmas. I hope you don’t mind!

I’m eating the bread - It just came out of the oven & it’s perfect. (How else could it be with you mixing and me baking.)

Thank you Mom. For everything.

I love you,

Nancy. “

Ich liebe dich, Oma.

I’ll miss you. Tell Poppop I said Hi.

[docandprof]

Can I Just Sleep Now?

How you doin’ ;)

SO yeah this has been a SUPER busy week, hence the late post (again). I think I have a bit to talk about? But we shall see how it all plays out as I delve deep into the depths of my oh so dark soul...haha nah let’s keep it light here. As a note to start this post out, I feel very businessman-like as I sit here in the midst of my flight from Knoxville to Newark, sitting in my window seat as time and countless unknown lives take their course miles below me. I am also listening to some good old Hamilton, but I digress (which is all we ever do) so let’s go, shall we?

Last week may have been one of the worst, yet fun, yet college life, yet emotional weeks in a long while. As you know, last week was midterms and I had 3 exams, and 2 full papers due; one major grade for every day, no joke. On top of that, I was cramming/studying every waking moment that I wasn't sleeping or in class. I probably averaged around 4 hours of sleep a night (nothing compared to our wild DJ). I feel like things went pretty well, as well as I could hope. I must admit, I feel bad about my English paper. I know I will get a pretty good grade, hopefully a solid A, but I know that I could have done much better on it. I didn't even get to send it to you because I was busy studying for everything else, leaving no time to write/finish that paper. I turned it in like 4 minutes before the due date on Friday. The only good thing is that I have one opportunity to this semester to do a rewrite on a paper, so if I don't get the grade I want on it, I will probably refine it. So yeah, moral of the story, study early and often so that you have time to do the crappy homework assignments professors still give you during midterm week.

Now for the good things I have experienced since my last post. One of my friends here (I would consider him one of my closest friends here) got a visit from his girlfriend from back home over the weekend. She was really cool and even though one would think that they would want to spend their time alone, they were really cool with hanging out with all of us. But the thing I want to tell you about is this AMAZING burger place that I will take you too someday. Write this down and never forget it, it is called Burger Republic. You are going to LOVE this place. MILKSHAKES, BURGERS, AND TATER TOTS OH MY!!!!!

Later this week, some friends and I created a fantasy baseball group and drafted our teams. I know you could care less, but there are stakes to this one. One of our friends has no idea what he is doing and knows nothing about baseball, so to get him to play with us, we made a bet with him. Now when I say “we” I mean myself and another friend who is as much into baseball as I am, so we know our stuff. Now the bet is that if our friend beats me at the end of the season, he gets to shave my head, and you know how big of a deal that is for me! And for my other baseball friend, if he loses, then our “dumb” friend gets to put any tattoo of his choice on the other guy’s body, in any spot! The only stipulations are that there cannot be any profanity and it must be clean enough for his mom to be able to see it and not be offended. Now you have to admit this is gonna be pretty fun to watch!!!

“I come back with more guns and ships...and so the balance shifts...” <------ the Hamilton quote that was just sung. Just thought you would like to know.

Back to the week! I have created and installed a few new Olympic events. Well really some events for the nonexistent Olympic games back at school amongst my friends. They are the Eraser Toss (gotta make a whiteboard eraser onto the whiteboard ledge, super hard but I am surprisingly good at it), the Shoe Toss (fling your shoe off your foot and into the garbage can from across the room), Footsie Marker (this one would kill you bud, let me explain. The competitor places a dry erase marker in-between his/her toes and then kicks his/her leg up as high as it can and make a mark on the whiteboard. I almost broke my toes when I tried to jump/flip and get a really high mark. I fell straight on my back and it was really fun), and now my personal favorite....THE TABLE LUGE!!!! (It stems from a mini game a friend and I were doing which involves an industrial sized Purell bottle and pump and trying to see who can squirt it the farthest. The Purell got all over the table, so we flipped in over and rubbed the top all over the carpeted ground to clean it, but I discovered that these tables glide very well over carpet, so I made a suggestion. The goal is to see who can ride the table the  farthest after pushing it a certain distance and then hoping on as you ride to glory and fame). As you can see, things get pretty idiotic at school as we try to entertain ourselves.

And now onto my final news of the week. IT’S SPRINGBREAK TIME!!!! So I just spent this weekend in Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge/the Smokie Mountains with friends. One of my friends lives here so we crashed at her house Friday night after driving like 4 hours. Fun fact: her family owns a hotel...Suite Life of Zach and Cody am I right?! Funner fact: she has a pet bunny named TRIXIE!! Man I miss that smelly old dog. But I did something you will be supremely jealous of on Saturday. I went hiking in the Smokie Mountains and I got some great pics, but man did my buns burn! (Yeah, buns and thighs.) It was gorgeous and I wish you could've been there with me. Maybe the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. We hiked to this lookout called Charlie’s Bunion. Then we got hibachi and checked into our AirBnB place. If you ever wanna travel somewhere but don't wanna stay in a hotel, check out AirBnB. 10/10 would recommend. All this while, I have still gotten all but like 3-4 hours of sleep on pull out beds and giant bean bags and recliner chairs.

Hamilton update: “Thomas Jefferson’s coming hoooooome!!! Lord he’s been off in Paris for so long...”

I am super pumped to just hang out on the beach and read some MacBeth again for my writing class (miss having English class together). But more so, I am glad I get to see my parents again. On another note, I just wanna say how proud I am of you and how happy I am for you. Nothing makes me happier than knowing my best friend is growing in his relationship with God. It isn't something that we talk a lot about in our friend group back home, but it makes me happy to see people who can understand another level of me and what I grew up in. Some day I would love to pick your brain about it all. But in the meanwhile, keep it up and know you are always in my prayers.

Now to answer your question, “what do I look forward to in life?” That is simple, family. When I say family, that includes more than my blood family, it includes you and Lysssssss and your families. I look forward to having an amazing wife that is way better of a person than I am and someone who deservedly can be called my better half. I look forward to seeing my kids run around, figuring out life and who they are, what interests them, and just watching them grow. I look forward to living by my best friends and seeing how we all go on vacations together and are kids develop relationships like we have, although I think what we have is special and REALLY weird. I look forward to bringing my kids to my parents house where I grew up and complaining to my mom about how much she spoils my kids and seeing my dad turn from my dad into grandpa, or pappy, or papa for my kids. I look forward to seeing my brother get married and start his family. Gosh I'm starting to cry as I type this. The person next to me must be wondering what is going on with me ahaha. So yeah, that’s what I look forward to in life.

Hamilton update: “Lord, show me how to say no to this....” love this song even though it is so sad.

Question and recommendation time!!! Let’s see what I got this week, if you could do anything with any superhero, what would it be and who would be your superhero? Recommendation for the week, go out and lose yourself in nature. It really hurts physically, but feels amazing and you get to see the fruits of your labor (haha accidental nature pun!). So I hope you have a great week before spring break and sorry this got so long. Hope you enjoyed it. Love you man.

Hasta la vista baby,

the doc