#//i loved doing this!! this would be a good base for Human!Truffle

[thiswasinevitableid]

A fun, potentially spooky prompt for Halloween season based on something you wrote in “Amnesty Records”: “Like the monster under the bed came to life, turned out to be hot, and really wants to fuck you.” Something to the theme of Little Monsters from 1989? Indruck and NSFW if you please?

This is indeed NSFW, and also came to me all in one burst.

Duck pulls the Captain Planet comforter up to his chin, sighing as he lays down. He turned seven today, and has been spoiled and fussed over. Mama Newton isn’t much of an entertainer, but she knows how to throw a birthday party. 

 A scrape  of nails on the floor and the rustle of something under his bed makes him freeze. 

“Taco, that you?”

When the cat doesn't appear, he sinks further under the covers.

“Mom?”

“No”  soft voice with a bit of hiss drifts up from under the bed.

He swallows, “Who’re you?”

“My name is Indrid. I live under your bed.”

“No you don’t, you weren’t there last night.”

“How do you know?”

“Just do. So go away.”

“No.”

“I’m gonna call my dad.”

“He won’t believe you” the bed frame rattles, “he will tell you to be a big boy.”

The monster is right, just yesterday dad was saying how proud he was of Duck being brave at the doctor. Fine, maybe if he pretends it’s not there, it’ll go away. 

“....aren't you going to cry?”

“No.” He sets his shoulders, glares at his wall.

“....not even a little?”

“No.”

“Oh.” A sigh, “I am not very good at this.”

Duck didn’t know monsters could be sad.

“Are, uh, are you a grown-up monster?”

“No. I am young and little, like you. They would not send a grown-up monster to a child, they send them to grown-up humans.”

“Grown ups don’t have monsters under their beds.”

“They do. They may not know it, but they do.”

Indrid doesn’t say anything else and Duck falls asleep. He’s hoping the monster won’t come back, but the instant his mom turns out the light, he knows he’s there. 

“I’m n-not scared.” He whispers to the ceiling.

“Yes you are. I can taste it.”

“You can't hurt me. You ain’t real.”

 A hand closes around his ankle and he yelps. The monster laughs, then hisses when Duck kicks his wrist. 

“That was not nice.”

“Neither was grabbing me”

There’s a huff, but nothing else. The third night, Duck is ready, sticking a fake sword under the bed as soon as Indrid says something. 

The sword is yanked from his hands. 

“Why is it this color?”

“Suppose to be from the future. Ain’t you seen space rangers?”

“No. That is not a movie we have down here.”

Duck is only now starting to recognize awkward pauses, but he’s pretty sure this is one.

“Will you tell me about it?” Indrid slides the sword back onto the floor by his dresser. 

He rolls onto his back. He’s not all that tired, and Juno is sick of hearing about it.

“Okay, so there’s this guy who’s a space farmer….”

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

It’s been a year and Indrid is under his bed almost every night, but Duck isn’t afraid of him anymore. Which is why he’s determined to finally get a look at him. How scary can a monster that wants to talk about T.V or trees or whatever else Duck has been up to really be?

When his mom turns off the light, Duck slips out of bed and lays on his stomach, staring into the darkness beneath it. 

Four red eyes appear, but nothing else. 

“Hey ‘Drid.”

“Hello. Why are you down here? Did you lose that action figure again?”

“Nah. Wanted to see you. Where’s the rest?”

“Hidden in shadows. I am not supposed to let humans see me. It can be dangerous.”

“Oh, uh, sorry?”

Indrid hurriedly adds, “But we can stay like this, this is okay. I think. I do not really care, I like being able to see you. You're like the baby multibear my friend has.”

“I ain't a bear.”

“No. But you are, ah, cute.”

Only Iris, Juno’s friend, has ever called him cute, and he only knows that because Juno told him. He understood he was supposed to think that was good. But he likes it much better when Indrid says it.

“What should we talk about tonight?”

Duck rests his chin on his hands, “You wanna play go fish?”

“You have a fish?” The red eyes tip to the right. 

He snickers, “No, it’s a game. Here, lemme show you…”

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

“You better give that one back.” Duck grumbles as he looks down from the bed to see his new Spiderman comic missing. 

“I have given all of them back.” He can hear the smile, the one he’s glimpsed in darkness while whispering secrets under the bed; it’s wide, and there are definitely fangs, but Indrid only ever shows it when he’s happy. He never has a mean smile like the jerks at school. 

“Where’s my Black Panther?”

“...........I dropped it in the stream when I was reading.”

“‘Drid!”

“I got excited!!”

“You owe me a new one.” There’s no anger in his words. It’s just a comic book, not nearly as special as Indrid. 

“Can I give you something from here instead?”

Duck closes the new Iron Man, holds it down to the space beneath the bed, “deal.”

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

He wakes up with a cry, too quiet to be a scream but with tremendous force behind it. As the nightmare fades, something rolls off the bed behind him. 

“‘D-Drid? Please, please say that was you or Taco.”

“It was me, Duck. I, I am sorry, you were whimpering in your sleep and I could taste more and more fear and I did not want you to be afraid. I, ah, I thought if I held you, it would make you feel better.”

“Thanks.” He shivers, the dream reaching out from all sides, threatening more horror if he falls asleep.

“Can, uh, can you come back up? Just for a little bit?” 

“I should not. It was already risky to do it how I did.”

Duck nods, forgetting Indrid can't see him. That's fine. He’ll be okay. He can handle-

A tree branch scrapes the window and he throws the covers over his head. 

“Put your hand over the edge of the bed.”

Duck slips his hand out from the blanket and lets it hang in the air. Fingers link around it, and then Indrid is holding it full on. It doesn’t feel like holding Janes hand when he’s helping her cross the street; it’s cold, smooth, and the nails are sharp. He sneaks a glance, sees red claws wrapped around his wrist, and feels safe enough to sleep. 

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

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah, don’t know why I’m so worried about startin’ high school. I mean, it’s fucking Kepler, the high school ain’t any bigger than the middle school. “

“I always get nervous for new lessons. Even with some ability to see the future, I am worried I will do something wrong. Maybe it is that?”

“Yeh.” Duck rolls onto his side, hoping for a glimpse of a hand. He wishes he knew what Indrid looked like, wishes he was coming to school with him tomorrow. 

“I am sure you will be fine. You are intelligent, and funny, and charming.”

He smiles at the wall, “Thanks, ‘Drid.”

“Any time, Duck.”

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

His roommate is snoring, which is not what he was hoping for from his first night in the dorms. Class tomorrow is going to fucking suck if he hasn't slept. 

“Congratulations on the successful move.” A familiar voice slinks up to his ear. 

“‘Drid? Holy shit, did you follow me?”

“I am your monster, I go where you go. Sort of. It is complicated. What is not complicated however, is this.” The clawed hand pops up to the edge of the bed, placing a wrapped package near Duck’s head. Stealthily removing the paper shows it’s the bright orange truffles that come from Indrid’s home. Duck loves them.  

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“It is traditional in both human and monster culture to give a gift when one moves to a new home. And I like bringing you things. Are you feeling well? Excited to learn about the forest?”

“Yep. Just wish I could get to sleep.”

“One moment.”

He feels Indrid leave. Then his roommate's bed shakes and shudders, the other guy jolting awake in fright. He doesn’t look like he’ll be getting back to sleep anytime soon. 

Duck shifts onto his side, facing the wall, and whispers down the stucco, “Thanks.”

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

A perk of his roommate getting a girlfriend is that Duck gets more nights alone. He’s soaked the pillow with sweat, and is so wrung out from cumming he hasn't wiped his hands yet. 

“Are you done?”

“JESUSFUCK”

“I'm taking that as a yes.”

“Please tell me you ain’t been there this whole time.”

“No, I always leave if you are doing that. It is private.”

“Thank fuck.”

Relief is followed by disappointment, which he decides he won’t think too hard about. 

It only takes another night before he does, imagining Indrid listening to him fuck himself, whispering instructions for how Duck should do it, even touching himself at the same time, getting off on the sound of Ducks pleasure before holding his hand all night. 

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

It’s fall, and the apartment he and Juno share is close to campus, cheap, and fucking freezing.

Duck knows just how to warm up. Sliding his hand down his sweats, he starts picturing Rich, but the thought of jerking it to an ex is a boner-kill waiting to happen. So, he switches to his trusty fallback, selecting a blonde, fresh-faced yet kind of punk body for the voice under the bed. 

He wants to draw it out, but fantasizing about Indrid always sets his hand flying, too many nights like this seeding a deep desire in his veins that he has to purge fast for fear of what will happen if it lingers. The monsters name drops from his lips, breathy and urgent, and he’s too caught up to care  

“Indrid, fuck, please.”

“Please what?”

Gasping, he sits up. A figure is standing at the foot of his bed, staring at him with red eyes. In the dark room, he can’t make much out beside their glow and two short horns on the top of his head. Duck’s mind spins so fast it hurls out the first sentence that comes.

“‘Drid’s got four eyes, not tw-”

Another pair of eyes open just below the first.

“They are a secondary pair, so I can keep them shut and see just fine. I thought the sight of them might be too much combined with the rest of me.” Indrid murmurs.

“Th-though I ain’t allowed to see the rest.”

A shrug, “You aren’t. But I cannot bring myself to care right now. Not when you say my name like that.”

Summoning his courage, Duck locks his gaze onto Indrid’s own and slowly drags a hand up his dick, “You gonna show me the rest or not?”

A hissing growl curls around him as Indrid leans forward, clawed hands leading the crawl onto the bed. In the moonlight coming through the window, Duck sets eyes on the whole of him for the first time. 

His face is angular, sporting his wide toothy grin and framed by silver hair falling just past his chin. Past the claws, his arms are a mixture of tan skin and black and red scales, twining up his arms. The same combination is clear on his chest, visible above the neckline of the white tank-top. Flashes of color appear under the fabric, racing down Indrid’s spine, and Duck would ask what they are if Indrids face had not just come level with his. Standing up, the monster can't be much taller than him. But here, pinned against his headboard like a scientific specimen, Indrid bracketing him, he feels frighteningly small. 

“What happened to not spying on me when  I did this?” The words stick in his dry mouth. 

“It was accidental. I only stayed when I heard you call for me.”

“Wasn't callin.” Heat rises in his face. 

The grin widens, “Oh no?” A long tongue drags down Duck’s cheek, “You did not have even the smallest hint of hope I would her? That I would lay in the shadows, savoring the sounds of you, ah, taking yourself in hand?”

He’s so strange looking, every sensible part of Duck is screaming for him to run, to banish him under the bed and go back to his normal life. 

Duck inches his face forward, closing his teeth round the lobe of a pointed ear, “Maybe.”

Indrid chuckles, “Then maybe I have been hoping for the same. Maybe I have been touching myself and dreaming it was your hand instead of mine. Maybe” he brushes their noses together, “I have wanted this for as long as you have?”

“Least a year, more if I’m bein honest with myself.”

“Several years, but then again, I had the pleasure of being able to see your face. It made you all the more appealing.”

Duck reaches out a shaking hand, stroking silver hair. He means to say some platitude about Indrid being handsome because the affection in Duck’s heart means he couldn’t see him any other way. While that may be true,  a second, more surprising truth comes out in its place. 

“Thinkin if you’d let me see you, we woulda gotten here a lot sooner. “

There’s another growl and then he’s yelping out a laugh as Indrid yanks him flat on his back and unceremoniously rips his shirt off. His monster brings their lips together, tongue sliding between Duck’s lips as the human shoves both hands into Indrid’s hair. When he teases his tongue against Indrid’s, the monster whines, pressing closer and pawing his sides. 

“‘Drid” He mumbles. 

Another whine, higher and morphing into a chirr as Indrid grinds their hips together.

“‘Drid, you gotta let me breathe.”

The monster breaks the kiss, but coats his face in pecks as he catches his breath, chirping all the while. Something solid ripples beneath the fabric of his black pants where they rub against Duck’s thigh. 

“Holy fuck what, what exactly are you packin down there?”

“Would you like to see?”

“Hell yeah.” 

The pants and Duck’s sweats hit the ground in quick succession, Indrid’s shirt landing atop them a moment later when Duck pulls it off to kiss along the scaled swirls of his chest. 

“Well, what do you think?”

“Guh, uh, jesus, uh, ‘Drid, what’s it doin?”

Indrid looks down to where four short tendris are unfurling to reveal a ridged cock.

“Getting ready to fuck you?”

“Uh, how exactly?”

Indrid licks his lips, “Lay back and I will demonstrate. Do not worry, as much as it pains me to focus on anything but your face, I will use my foresight to be certain nothing I do leads to trouble. 

Duck rests his head on the pillow as Indrid settles between his legs, claws pricking his thighs when the monster pushes them apart. 

“Does the whole thing goOH, oh fuck.” He wiggles his hips, “fuck, ‘Drid, that feels so fuckin weird.”

‘That is not surprising. It is one of the tendrils which, unless I'm very wrong about human anatomy, none of your previous partners had.”

“Nnnnnnfuck, fuck you’re gonna fuckin ruin me, god fuckin damn that feels nice.”

“Wonderful.” Indrid bends down, hands gliding to rest by Ducks biceps. He kisses him slowly s the tendril continues stretching him open, slick and pulsing in time with the careful movements of Indrid’s hips. 

His monster noses down his throat, drgs his tongue back up it with a purr, “You taste divine.”

“If you,re fuck gonna eat me, do me a favor and do it after I cum?” Duck teases, stroking Indrid’s shoulder blades. 

Indrid laughs, “A fair request. But I have zero interest in eating you; how could I? I would lose my best friend and my new favorite past time.” The tendril thickens, making Duck moan and throw his forearm over his eyes. 

“Fuuuck, are all monsters this fuckin sappy?”

“Only yours. And it is not as if you're not that way. I remember those love notes you asked me to help with.”

“Okay okay, we’re both big fuckin marshmallows. Now, AAHnn, are you gonna help me break this bed or not?”

Indrid pulls out with another growl, kneading Duck’s ass as he lines up his cock, “Yes, yes I am.”

“FUCK, ohfuckohfuck, yeah, fuck yeah.” Duck digs his fingers into Indrid’s back as he shoves in, “‘Drid, tht’s so fuckin goodohshit, what, what’s it doin now?” The tendrils have spread, one curling around his dick, two teasing his balls, and the fourth twining up Indrid’s shaft, meaning Duck’s toes curl with new sensations on the next thrust.

Indrid grins against his neck, “Taking care of you.”

“Ain’t that, that thoughtful.”

“All for you my sweet, goodness, you’re so warm and your ass is delightful.” His lips find Duck’s cheeks, “I’ve wanted this so long, sweetheart, so very longAHhnnnn.” His head hits the pillow as Duck scratches down his back. Not only do colors flash in his wake; spikes emerge along the ridge of his spine, flickering red to purple to black.

“Is that-”

“-okay yes very, o-okay. You can touch them, they will not hurt.”

Duck runs his finger up one. It’s feathery and smooth, rising and lowering with the undulations of Indrid’s body. Tugging it makes Indrid snap his hips with a chirring growl.

“Yes, yes do that again, more, please ohahnnnnisJunohome?

“No?”

“Good.”

The words Duck meant to say give way to shouts of pleasure as Indrid slams into him over and over, sinking his teeth into his shoulder and clawing at his sides. Duck scratches his scales and skin, strokes and pulls the feathery spines, Indrid trilling when he does. His hips quicken, Duck struggling to keep pace as the monster pins him more firmly to the bed. When he cums the tendrils tighten, sending Duck over the edge right after him. Indrid kisses him again, nipping long his lips as he whimpers the monsters name. 

As his whole body spasms and relaxes, Indrid rolls him over, panting. 

“More, I want more, again, mine, you are all mine.”

Duck looks over his shoulder, grinning fondly, “Uh huh.”

“What is so funny?”

“Nothin. Just, uh, realized there's a plant your dick reminds me of.”

Indrid blinks so intently his second set of eyes join in the expression. Then he cackles, draping himself over Duck to kiss him again. 

“You can tell me all about it after we are done with the extremely pressing matter of me fucking you again.”

“Go wild, darlin.”

This time the pillow takes the brunt of the noise, Duck grunting and moaning into it as Indrid fucks him from behind, switching between slow, gentle thrusts and grabbing Duck’s hips to drive into him hard enough to set off fireworks in his brain. He’s overstimulated to the point of tears, but his whole system floods with pleasure at the intensity of Indrid’s desire, the feeling of being so utterly used and wanted all at once. When the monster pulls out, he’s cum enough that it drips down Duck’s thigh, tingling as it goes. 

“Now” Indrid flops onto the mattress, wriggling into Duck’s waiting arms, “tell me about this plant.”

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

When Juno gets home Sunday morning, Duck is in the kitchen humming long with a playlist on his phone. 

“Holy fuck man, what happened to you.” She stares at the bitemarks and bruises all around his neck and shoulders and the scratches on his legs. 

“Had a real nice weekend.”

“You got all that from a hook-up?”

Duck shakes his head with a secretive smile, “Nah. Just had a sleepover with my new boyfriend.”

[getreadytosmash]

][For Jen][ Almond Chocolate Coconut || Black Raspberry Cheesecake || Chubby Hubby || Cotton Candy Explosion || Death By Chocolate || Devil’s Food Chocolate || Ginger Crème Brûlée || Heartbreak Healer || Lemon-Lime Sorbet || Masque of the Raspberry Sorbet || Neapolitan || Orange Pineapple Whip || Phish Food || White Raspberry Truffle

@blind-mutant

Ice cream headcanons

Almond Chocolate Coconut: a touch headcanon. Jen often likes initiating contact! It's a big thing that helped when she was a kid and Bruce would come over, bruises and beaten from his father, and it helped even more as she got older and things got rougher. Physical contact is one of the best ways to help Jen calm down and out of everyone, she's most likely to hug you.

Black Raspberry Cheesecake: a sexuality and/or romanticism headcanon (romantic orientation, sexual orientation, etc). After becoming She-hulk, Jen is both more open and more reserved about who she dates and has sex with. Being big and green and gorgeous did so much for her and helped Jen in feeling more confident to go after what she wanted, but it's also come to a point where it's harder for Jen to form relationships over the whole "I'm She-hulk" thing and the longer lasting issues of gamma not always being perfect. She's found herself leaning more into the demiromantic side of things over the years.

Chubby Hubby: a body image/self esteem headcanon. Jen considers becoming She-hulk to be the best thing that's ever happened to her body tbh. It allowed her to transition in the most perfect way, it gave her fame and power and it took away any chance of being scared again when it came to any violence. She's hot, she's strong and the fact that she gets asked to be on magazine covers and signing autographs by some people really helps make her feel better than ever.

Cotton Candy Explosion: a childhood/child(ren) headcanon. As a kid, Jen was really set on being a dancer, mostly a ballerina. She quit the dream for being a lawyer instead when Bruce's mother was murdered. It seemed like a better cause to want to learn to help people, especially when Brian Banner was merely trialled for insanity rather than facing a murder charge.

Death By Chocolate: an indulgence/guilty pleasure headcanon. Jen likes those FANCY baths with the best smelling bombs and flowers, champagne and fruits/chocolates to nibble every Friday or every other Friday. She deserves it and everyone in the base knows to NEVER disturb Jen when she goes off for her Friday baths. Rick still has nightmares.

Devil’s Food Chocolate: a vice headcanon. I suppose wanting to BE She-hulk is a vice?? It was actually a big part in her early storyline where she was supposed to stay human when at work and she struggled so badly, as well as hulking out as soon as she got out of work. Jen kinda,,,never wants to be human again and this can cause some issues at certain points.

Ginger Crème Brûlée: a gender headcanon (gender identity, gender presentation, butch/femme, gender feels, etc). Jen was VERY feminine presenting as a child/teenager when she had begun her transitioning and had been worried over how others saw her and a lot of Jen's gender experience relied on how she was perceived by those around her and what women should have looked like. Being green did a BIG boost and at first, Jen was a Typical Summer Body Model,,,just 6'6 and green with big hair for a period of time before she started to find what SHE wanted in herself.

Now Jen is a lot more confident and happy in how she presents herself because all that matters is how she sees and what she feels like. That includes being 7'7-8'2, ripped and being happy to either wear a suit or dress to stun people with.

Heartbreak Healer: a sad/angsty romantic or queerplatonic headcanon. No one ever really stays with Jen as a hulk and part of that is from how hectic her life can be, her physical body and the fear that a good majority of people can't cope with the sheer stress of a media life AND a hero life. That, and Jen's immortal, who's going to be able to stay with her? Can she really keep on living and loving people when she knows that they'll all just leave her in some way?

Lemon-Lime Sorbet: a sexual/NC-17 headcanon (alt: a secret(s) h/c). Her libido is INSANE. Jen can go almost ten rounds and only needs five minutes before she's up for another round. It acts up if she hasn't got anything else to direct her energy towards, but sometimes Jen likes to let it build up purely for how good it feels to spend as long as she likes, especially if she wants to tease a partner and wear them out.

Masque of the Raspberry Sorbet: a fear/horror headcanon (alt: a costume(s)/facade(s) headcanon). She's scared of the cold because after coming back from death when she had been shot and other times, the cold reminds Jen of dying and how it felt, the fear that she might never go back and she's always going to be stuck in that hellish landscape, with Brian and shells of people she knew...best to keep Jen warm.

Neapolitan: an intimacy/vulnerability (or lack thereof) headcanon. Out of everyone in he hulkfam, Jen is the most willing to be vulnerable I'd say. And it's more important on the fact that she's had the most normal childhood out of everyone and KNOWS that vulnerability is important. She has a harder time herself with showing the same intimacy when it's bad, but she tries to get the people around her to be more open, especially since all she wants to do it try and help the people she loves.

Orange Pineapple Whip: a kinky headcanon (alt: an eccentricity h/c). Jen sometimes risks wearing lingerie under her clothes on days that she feels a little playful with a partner. There's more of a chance where she gets into a fight and maybe her clothes get a little ripped up and shows some of her lingerie, which...maybe Jen likes when she gets to see their cute faces when they flush at the sight of her underclothes.

Phish Food: a music headcanon. She can play the piano! It's faded somewhat over the years from lack of practice, but Jen can still do "Part of your world" just fine.

White Raspberry Truffle: a weakness headcanon. At the end of the day, it's always going to be Jen's own fear that makes her weak. She's scared of what people think of her for so long, scared of the cold, scared of death, scared of her family being hurt...Jen may be stronger than anything and sensational, but she's still scared that one day her power will run out and she'll be overtaken by her fear.

[kerwritesthings]

The Exquisite Taste of Love

Summary: Everyone’s love language is different and special, getting to share that with the one who you call your heart is something else entirely

Word Count: almost 5.2k (Oops? But not really!)

Warning: tooth rotting sweetness, a touch of naughty and a whole lotta of love

Author Notes: What started out as inspiration from a gif, because the muse likes her pretty, evolved into the idea of a cute little Valentine’s Day blurb which then morphed into a bit of a love letter to the folks in this crazy corner of fandom who have been my biggest cheerleaders when it has come to my writing, with such open arms and friendship. My Valentine’s Day gift to them (and even to the rest of you) – but specially for @whenidance​, @parkerdavis​, @sinplisticshawn​, @fallinallincurls​, @illumecherry​, @hollandraul​ - y’all will notice little special fun in here for each and every one of you. My little love language gifts to you <3 

This, as always, falls again in line with this little world I’ve created, but again can be read as a stand-alone one shot piece, however I would recommend taking a read so you understand the build and the dynamics  – the masterlist of everything can be found here. 

“Can we do a baking night, like a date night?” he inquires, slinging himself against your back and nuzzling into your neck as you finish packing the cookies scattered across the kitchen island into Tupperware. You tried to get a jump on it this year, it’s your tradition to always gift your friends and family little homemade treats for Valentine’s Day. This year, you included adding in plans for special batches for some of Shawn’s team and his family, as well as a surprise for Shawn himself. Tonight’s adventure was for the folks whose items must hit the mail to get their treats in time.

“Wait, did I hear you right?” you giggle. “You, you’re asking to do something in the kitchen? By choice? That has nothing to do with trying to mix drinks?”

“Hey,” he whines, drawing out the y, licking sloppily at the side of your neck. “Can’t get better if I don’t try to learn right? And this is fun stuff, not like chicken or broccoli or pasta.”

“Baking is a lot more precise though than cooking. You need to follow recipes and instructions down to a tee,” you explain. “But you’re right, you won’t get better without trying it more. We’ll start with something a little on the easier side. I was going to do salted caramel cheesecake brownies and chocolate covered strawberries for your family to drop off on Friday. We can make them together.”

“Yay,” he replies, blowing a raspberry against your skin. “What else do you have to do?”

“Nothing else tonight thank goodness, these baby Linzer tarts and chocolate cherry truffles were enough,” you tell him as you package up the last of the chocolates. “I still need to make chocolate pretzel drops and spritz cookies for my office. The boys are going to get the crazy squares they inhaled the last time they were here, so I’m going make those for them. Need to figure out what to send the rest of your out of town contingent. Maybe Nanaimo bars. I may have something up my sleeve for you too, but you will have to wait and see on that.”

He shifts you about in his hold, pressing you into the back of the island before kissing you soundly. “I love that all my folks are now tangled up in your traditions, especially when they don’t need to be.”

“Of course, they do,” you state so matter of factly with a smile. “They’re a part of my life now too. You love them, so. Hell, I even have come to love some of them, despite me questioning why on a few.”

He laughs, swinging you around in his arms before sitting you down on the island before cupping your cheeks. The next thing you know, he’s kissing you again, “I love you. Now let’s plan out the next couple days of your crazy baking adventures.”

The next night while he’s locked away in the studio, Skype session with some of the LA crew you think, you at least get the dough made for the spritz cookies, settling in the fridge to chill, and the crazy squares done for his friends here at home. You’re elbows deep in coconut shortbread when you hear him padding down the hall.

“Ok whatever that it, it smells amazing. Coconut, vanilla and what else is in that?” he asks, hopping on the counter behind you. His long legs start swinging and his socked heels tapping against the cabinets like he’s a child.

“These my dear, are the Nanaimo bars. Or at least my version,” you explain, pushing your hair back off your face with your forearm not to get dough all over the place. “More coconut, vanilla and caramel than chocolate. It’s a coconut vanilla shortbread base, it’ll have a vanilla bean studded caramel custard in the middle. That’s in the fridge already, then I’ll do a chocolate caramel coconut topping for them. Figure little taste of Canada to send out to the rest of your folks.”

“I have no idea how you do it, but it looks and smells yummy. Think we can find candles that smell like this somewhere? That’s a scent I could get used to around here. Could sneak one on the road too, have for when I’m missing you,” he replies, poking his nose in some of the new Tupperware you have on the back counter by him. “What are these? They smell different, they’re not that.”

“Those are the crazy squares. It’s basically like a kitchen sink cookie, but in bar form. And since your friends are human garbage disposals when it comes to eating, I think it’s a good choice,” you get out through a laugh. “Oatmeal, chocolate chips, pretzels, potato chips, peanut butter and a little bit of toffee.”

“My little baking machine,” he comments with a tiny grin, stealing a small bar from the container he was sniffing in. “Damn, these are really good.”

“Shawn,” you yell, flicking the towel that was over your shoulder at his knee. “Those are gifts! No eating the presents. You’ll get your own treats.”

“’M sorry, but not really,” he mumbles through a mouth full of crazy square. “Ooh! We need cards to go with these.”

“What? No, baby we don’t,” you try to explain. “The gift is the goodies.”

“Nope. Cards. Have to,” he says, hopping down from the counter then hip bumping you. “At least for my parents, my sister, and then of course Didi and Tomas too. Maybe a stupid one for Cez to make him laugh.”

He drops a kiss to the tip of your nose, “I’ll handle it. Where did you stash all that extra craft stuff from when you had the A and all her girls over? The fancy scissors and all the paper?”

You have no idea what he’s up to, but you know you’re not going to be able to get him off this train. “Clear bin. Guest room closet, right hand side,” you describe. “Should be the one right on top.”

He scurries off and you just have to roll your eyes, biting back the giggle bubbling up. He’s such a softie. You love it, despite your reticence on his need for cards.

While you finish off the trays of bars, get the spritz cookies in the oven and start the chocolate pretzel drops, he’s stationing himself in the living room cross-legged in front of the coffee table. He’s awfully quiet, minus a hum here and there. You only hear the shuffling of papers and the click swish from scissors. You decide to let him be and have his fun, it gives you the time to finish off more than you were planning for the night.

When you’re done, you come out to a living room that’s just exploding with cut out hearts, but no Shawn. There’s a chain of them hanging from around the television, scattered piles over every table like confetti, a few bigger ones at the center of the coffee table in front of the couch.

“So, I may have been a little sneaky,” he confesses from behind you, arm wrapping around your hips to draw you towards him. “I made a few to use as cards but I wanted to do something a little randomly special for you early, since you’re doing all this baking for everyone when you really don’t have to.”

“You are such a squish Shawn,” you whisper, before leaning your head back on his shoulder. “It’s adorable. I love it. Thank you, sweetie.”

“Love you,” he murmurs into your hair.

There’s a massive vase of white roses and jasmine when you walk into the house the next night after work, sitting smack in the middle of the kitchen island, another cut out heart, this one bubble gum pink with silver writing on it, propped up against it.

So you can take the time to smell the roses, and the jasmine too. Can’t wait to bake with you later. Be home by 7 – xo S

“What is he up to now?” you mutter to yourself, not hearing anything in the condo other than the click of your heels on the kitchen tile floor. You find another bouquet in the living room, a smaller version in your bedroom on your bedside table, a new jasmine candle in your bathroom next to a tiny glass holding a fresh sprig of jasmine along with a tiny white rosebud and even a little spray of them on your desk in the guest room that doubles as your home office. You should be getting everything ready in the kitchen for the big bake, but you sit on the end of the bed needing a minute. You pick up the phone.

“What’s wrong?” Didi responds quickly. “You never call unless something’s wrong. Wait, did he propose finally? Is there a ring? You’re not pregnant, are you? Shit girl I told you...”

“Damnit Dee. No, breathe,” you try breaking through on your best friend’s babble. “There is definitely not a baby. Shit’s sake. Not doing things reverse order. Plus, there’s new album and tour and life. So no, not that. And. When there’s a ring, it’ll be a FaceTime, not a phone call. He just. Last night it was cut out hearts everywhere. Today, I come home. The condo’s filled with white roses and jasmine. Everywhere.”

It’s quiet for a moment. “You cry yet?” she asks softly.

“No,” you sniff. “Close though. I think I only mentioned this once. Of course, he remembers and then goes and does something like this.”

“He’s your person, girly,” Didi replies. “And a mushy lovey fucker for you at that.”

Your best friend is right. He is. “Thanks D, I needed this. I gotta go though I’m sorry. I’m attempting to teach him brownie baking tonight. I still need to change and get everything ready before he’s back at 7. I’ll text you.”

Quickly you throw yourself together as best as you could, changing and pulling everything you need to together along with moving the flowers in the kitchen to the living room. You’re rinsing off the strawberries when you hear his keys hit the lock.

“In the kitchen,” you call out when the door shuts.

“Good day?” he asks, head leaning in to place a kiss against your shoulder, his lips cold against your skin exposed by your tank top.

“Better when I got home,” you reply, leaning your head against his still pressing against you. “You’re a crazy boy, and I don’t even know how to say thank you for it. They’re beautiful. All of them.”

He kisses your shoulder again, before shifting to trail his lips up your neck, nibbling at your ear before a lingering kiss to your cheek. “Love you is all,” he states casually. “Let me change and then I’ll be back in for my lesson.”

While he’s gone, you decide to get the strawberries out of the way first. Brownies will be the more complicated of the two, so to start easier will be a good idea. He comes back in as you’re breaking up the chocolate bars into a large glass bowl.

“Chocolate covered strawberries first,” you begin. “They’re the less difficult of what’s on the agenda and we should get them dipped and set in the fridge before the oven gets on and warms the kitchen. Normally I’d melt and temper the chocolate over a double boiler, but not fussing with that tonight. It’s breaking it up, adding a little bit of oil and melting it in the microwave. Then we just dip away. I’ll finish on the milk, why don’t you get started on either the dark or the white, then I’ll do the other when I’m done.”

The both of you find a rhythm, breaking and chatting, sneaking in a kiss here or a prolonged touch there while you get the chocolate ready.

“Now, that those are melted. We pat the strawberry dry to make sure the chocolate will stick,” you explain, showing him the first one. “Hold it closer to the end of the stem and swirl, leave a little bit showing and let it drip the extra chocolate off, then place it down on the wax paper. Once they’re all dipped, we can drizzle another color chocolate over it with what’s left.”

“This isn’t so bad,” he declares after a few rows of berries are done. “Though, I think I know a way to make this a little more fun.”

He dips his finger around the edge of the bowl with the dark chocolate, pulling some off the glass. He eyes you carefully, crooking the chocolate covered finger at you.

“Shawn,” you question.

“C’mere,” he requests. You move slowly over, his non chocolate covered hand grabbing a strong hold against the curve of your hip. He takes the chocolate laden finger, tracing your bottom lip first, then the dip between your collarbones, chocolate sticking carefully against your skin.

“Dessert before dinner, yum,” he whispers, a breath from your lips before sinking into them. Licking his way into your mouth, you can’t help but slide your hands into his hair and moan. It was dirty and deep from the start, but when you flick your tongue against his, you feel his grip on your hip tighten even more.

He breaks from you first, trailing his lips down your cheek, across your neck to latch onto your collarbone and the chocolate he left there. You don’t want him to leave a mark, but secretly, you’re hoping he does.

“Baby,” you whine, hands gripping at his hair harder as he bites and sucks along the line of your bone. At this rate you’re going to be so bruised. He nips his way back up your neck before sipping at your lips again, leaving you breathless.

“Mmm, well you’re quite delicious, I think like this baking thing,” he grins like a cat who got the cream.

“It’ll be my turn soon, don’t you worry,” you proclaim, trying to stir the rest of the chocolate back to life. “Let’s finish these off before the chocolate starts gets too firm.”

He slides behind you, leaning in flush against your back, “I could make a really bad joke here, you know.”

You feel him, half hard and snug against your ass.

“Baking, Shawn. We’re baking,” you remind him with a sigh, while arching back to tease him. “You’re the one who asked for a baking date night. There will be more of that after if you’re lucky and you behave.”

He bites at your earlobe, grinding into you once. “Can we keep some chocolate for later then?”

You push back at him, “Says the one who isn’t always keen on chocolate.”

“But it’s chocolate off you, it automatically tastes better and makes me want more of it,” he proclaims with a cheeky smile, sliding over to the sink to wash his hands.

You make quick work of the last of the berries, getting the trays into the fridge so you can finally get going on the brownies.

“Salted caramel cheesecake brownies next,” you say as you pull the bricks of cream cheese from the fridge and the blocks of butter off the back counter. “Two different batters, but they’re both pretty easy. We start with the brownie batter first, then whip the cheesecake batter, swirl the dulce de leche through that, then swirl that into the brownie batter. Drizzle it all with a little more caramel, then sprinkle on some flaky sea salt before popping them into the oven.”

“It’s unfair how you make it sound so simple and easy,” he notes, watching you measure out cocoa powder. “I see that recipe and it’s like 38 steps long.”

“Not that many. Come over here, I promise let me show you, it’s not hard,” you slide your arm through his to pull him closer.

“That’s what she said,” he quips, poking at your side. The two of you plug away step by step, first on the brownie mixture, before starting in on the cheesecake. While you trust Shawn to continue keeping an eye on the whipping cream cheese in the stand mixer, you break out the jar of dulce de leche you’ve had warming slowly in a warm pan of water on the stove.

“Now that it’s done, and once this is a little cooler, we’ll drizzle some of this in there to make a ribbon through it before adding it into the pan with the brownie batter,” you describe, popping the lid carefully off.

You dip your pinkie into the warm sugary syrup, “Mmm liquid gold. This is perfect.”

Shawn snags your hand before you get a chance to wipe it on the towel, popping your pinkie into his mouth.

“Damnit Shawn,” you husk out as he works at your finger with his tongue. While he’s preoccupied, you quickly poke another finger from your left hand into the jar. Payback, you think, is a bitch. You slide your pointer finger down the line of his jaw before taking it down the line of his neck. His eye pop open and grow wide, sliding your finger free.

You don’t give him a chance to say a word, latching onto his jaw. His hands grasp you immediately, one lacing around the back of your head to hold you to him, the other square on your ass. You take your time, just as he did earlier, licking and nibbling your way through the sweet caramel until you hit his skin.

“Sweetheart,” he moans, almost bordering on a growl, when you hit that spot on his neck that drives him crazy. The hand on your ass draws you closer to him, sliding his thigh between your legs. You keep at that spot, you know there’s nothing coming up so if you do mark him up, which you want to do badly, there’s no real repercussions.

“Shit, baby,” he whines, needy and desperate as you keep up your assault on his neck. You make quick work on the rest of the dulce, sliding right back up to exactly where you know you can get him keening. Kitten licks at first, then tiny bites soothed by a bit of sucking. You keep the pattern up for a few passes, his skin warm under your tongue, warm until you know they’ll be a bit of a reminder tomorrow.

“Fuck,” he bites out, drawing you up and away from his neck to bring you up to meet his eyes.

“Something wicked this way comes,” you smirk, licking at your lips.

He dives for your mouth, hot and hard and fast until you’re both out of breath.

“Now, think we can keep our hands to ourselves to get these in the oven?” you pant. “And when your mother asks how we made these together, we do not tell her about the soft-core porn action in the kitchen.”

He kisses you sweetly, softly, “I think it would be a fun story though.”

You roll your eyes, pushing at his chest, “Brownies, swirling, salting and into the oven. C’mon.”

You both manage to keep your hands, and your lips, to yourself for the rest of the process. You cannot help but chuckle, watching him salt the brownies ever so carefully. “It’s like icy snow,” he proclaims, grinning like a little kid.

Once in the oven, you split clean up duty and then start to pack up the berries off the trays.

“I feel bad that I can’t go with you to drop this all off tomorrow, but there’s no way I can duck out early enough,” you lament, shifting the berries about to make sure they’re not going to be smushed in transport.

“The fact you made all this for them, from scratch no less, is more than enough,” he insists. “I normally just send flowers. Which I’m still doing for both of them. This is just over the top extra awesome.”

You can’t help but smile, “They’re my family now too. Well, close enough you know? I love them…”

He wraps you in a hug, “I love that you consider them yours, cause they are. Absolutely, they’re your family. Now, let’s finish this and go cuddle on the couch until the brownies are done.”

Before leaving for the office, with Shawn still cozy in bed asleep since you’re up a good deal earlier than normal today, you slip out the red box you’ve had hidden in the back of the pantry out onto the kitchen counter. Inside, a few smaller red containers, filled with his treat surprises for the day.

You steal one of the blank hearts from the dining room table, a white one, for a note.

For my darling, the first of a few surprises for you today. Despite your recent affection for chocolate, here’s a little something to start your day. Through the day you’ll find little things here and there, just small little sweets that I know you adore, maybe as much as me. Because my heart, you have mine and I want to spoil you a little today. Love you valentine xo <3

You prop the note against one of the larger containers, this a perfect square. The first time you ever made him your lemon lime scones, it was one of first nights you stayed over. He waxed poetic about them for days. You knew they had to be a part of his treat trail today. This time though in a mini version. The second box, a smaller thinner one, you slide into his guitar case, filled with rolls of homemade strawberry fruit leathers. A third box, shortbread thumbprints with sour cherry jam, you place in his studio by his journal. The fourth, in a tin on top of the corner chair in the living room where he leaves one of his guitars out always, most difficult of the treats you made for him - tequila laced gummy bears. The final, and a last minute addition made last night when he was half dozy on the couch and thought you were boxing the brownies, a few chocolate covered caramels that you leave by his keys at the front table as a nod to last night’s funtivities.

You grab the bag filled with the baked treats for your office and head out the door. When you finally arrive at your office, a few minutes late because of your hiding duties at home and setting up your treats for the team in the kitchen, you’re greeted by a bouquet of blush peonies and antique roses.

“Came in just a few minutes ago,” Rosalie, the office receptionist tinkers gleefully, peeking her head into your office. “Do we get to see that boy of yours today? That would be a lovely Valentine’s Day treat.”

Rosalie, who is old enough to be your grandmother but has the energy level of a teenager, absolutely adores Shawn. They’re thick as thieves, getting along together immediately. She mothers the heck out of him when he comes to see you, helps him sneak things into your office, the two of them gang up on you to make sure you’re fed and hydrated when you’re pulling late hours, and is an absolute godsend when you work remote if you’re out on the road with him.

“Not sure,” you smile, smelling one of the blooms. “I know he’s heading out to Pickering at some point to see his family. Not sure what he’s got up his sleeve or has plans on for later. I’m being surprised. Best not poke at him and ruin whatever he’s got going.”

“Just let him know his smiling face is missed around here ok?” she nods, heading back towards her desk.

You snap a quick photo of the flowers and fire off a text – Happy Valentine’s Day indeed. They’re so pretty, thank you! <3 ilu :) xo

You’re knee deep in trying to clean out your inbox when your phone chimes. A selfie, his bed head in full force and he’s smiling around one of the scones in his mouth. Omg you made me the Sprite scones! AND THEY ARE TINY BABY SIZED ONES I CAN FIT IN MY MOUTH ALL AT ONCE! Followed by alternating string of lemon, soda cup, green and yellow heart emojis.

He finds the thumbprints next, a photo of a cookie next to him giving you a thumbs up, more emojis again this time alternating the cherries, red lips and red heart. Where did you find the sour cherry jam? I haven’t been able to find it anywhere. OR DID YOU MAKE THIS TOO?!

Immediately after was a boomerang, the tin of strawberry fruit rolls, rocking and rolling back and forth. Followed by strawberry emojis between kissy face smileys. These taste exactly like you do after we go strawberry picking in the spring and you sneak berries along the way when you think no one is looking. But I always am.

It takes a little longer for the next find. You’re in the middle of a conference call when your phone starts buzzing. A gif of a worm with a sombrero on, tipping back on a bottle of tequila. How the hell did you make me seriously boozy af gummy bears? They’re as big as my thumb! I can’t have these before heading out to the ‘rents. I’m drunk already from just smelling them.

You have to mute your line and laugh heartily. This right here made it all worth it. His reactions are priceless. You’re so glad the little surprises are making him this silly happy.

The next one, about half an hour later, is a voice memo.

“You sneaky, naughty little minx,” he husks out, voice deep. “Chocolate caramels. You knew exactly what I’d think of, didn’t you? I’m in the car trying to get out and through downtown, but now all I can think about since finding them are your breathy little moans, your hands in my hair and your mouth at my throat. Fuck baby, you definitely left the best for last. I snuck them in the car to have one on the ride, but there’s no way I can even try one now.” He pauses for a beat; a hard sigh escapes his lips. “Just you wait until later. Now, I need to get out of this tangle you’ve got me in before I get home to my parents. I’ll be back by the time you get home from work. I love you sweetheart.”

Thank god you didn’t put that on speakerphone. He sounded like pure wicked sin, plain and simple. He’s got you in knots now too. You just need to get through the rest of the day in one piece. Thankfully, your boss kicks the entire office out early, partially because of her own plans, and partially because of the long weekend stateside. You’ll take it. Hopefully you can beat Shawn home to be able to maybe shower and change before he gets back.

A cute video comes through as you walk out of the office, from his sister. “First off, I’m mad at Shawn for not bringing you with, but then he said you had work. So, I let it slide. A little at least. Then he let us open the goodies. You made all our favorites! You’re the best. Please come visit, or let’s plan another girls’ night and we’ll kick him out of the condo! Wait wait, hold on. Someone else wants to say thanks!” She pans her phone to the kitchen and flips the camera around. “Sweetie, thank you so much for all the treats. You will need to send me the recipe for the brownies, they’re delicious. I still don’t believe Shawn helped you with all this, if that’s the case, congratulations for getting him in the kitchen willingly. And without disaster, I hope at the very least. I’m hiding some so maybe there’s still some left when Manny makes it home. Let’s figure out dinner all of us together next week. Love you!”

Warmth spreads through you as you navigate your way back home after that one. You’re floating at this point. However, you did not luck out in beating him back as you walk through the door. There’s a litany of white pillar candles of all different heights and thicknesses everywhere in the living room, flickering as if they’re just lit. There he is, ensconced in the corner of the couch, guitar slung across his lap. He smiles, patting the open cushion next to him.

“I will spare you from the ultimate perfect yet cheesy Canadian Valentine’s Day, singing some Celine Dion love song to you,” he jokes, pressing a lengthy kiss to your temple. “But I did dig through someone’s playlists to find something. Mind you, this is only part of your gift, which will never rank up against all that you did for me today. That was, just, ridiculous and perfect and sweet. So damn thoughtful, babe. I loved it.”

He leans over to quickly press a kiss at the corner of your mouth before diving into the song.

“The dawn is breaking, a light shining through. You're barely waking and I'm tangled up in you,” he sings. “I’m open, you're closed. Where I follow, you'll go. I worry I won't see your face light up again.”

Your breath sticks in your throat. Your brain scrambles slightly, eyes clouding up. You miss him sing the chorus the first go, the blood rushing through your ears.

“I'm quiet you know. You make a first impression. I've found I'm scared to know I'm always on your mind. Even the best fall down sometimes, even the stars refuse to shine. Out of the back you fall in time. I somehow find you and I collide,” he continues. “Even the best fall down sometimes. Even the wrong words seem to rhyme. Out of the doubt that fills my mind, I somehow find you and I collide.”

You sniff as he finishes, shifting his guitar out of his hands to move behind you before throwing yourself into his lap, arms tight around his neck. “So, you’re going to need to record that for me, so I have that to sing me to sleep when you’re out on tour. Honey, that was just…”

You trail off, leaning your forehead against his, trying to catch your breath and your words all at once. His hands a steady hold on your waist, fingers trailing up and down slightly.

“Just when I think you’ve permeated every part of my heart already, you go and do something like that,” you profess honestly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispers against your lips. “So much.” He draws you closer, arms tightening around you. His heartbeat a tether to yours, a steady rhythm in time with each other’s beats. 

TAG LIST: @whenidance, @parkerdavis, @sinplisticshawn, @hollandraul, @fallinallincurls, @itrocksmysocks, @rainbowshawn, @lasingphomustra, @illumecherry​

[starkerforlife6969]

Starker, Loosely Based off Good Omens

Peter keeps eyeing Tony’s devil food cake.

Tony sighs, and pushes the plate towards him. Peter looks up with big, guilty, honey eyes and shakes his head insistently. “No! I couldn’t, you eat it, Tony-“

“I’m not even hungry,” Tony insists, pushing the plate even further towards his companion. Peter’s cheeks go all pink and lovely and Tony wonders how he lasted the last few decades without seeing him. The last time must have been- oh god (ouch), it might have been the Second Industrial Revolution.

Peter’s just as pretty. With his huge eyes and his chestnut curls and his cream skin. He’s in a white floral printed suit, trimmed with gold, and it fits him perfectly. The tie is a faded pink, and it matches the rose hue of his lips.

“But it’s called devil’s food cake,” Peter points out, reaching for his fork anyway. He takes a heaped forkful into his mouth, all chocolate and cream and icing and Tony wants to kiss him.

He wonders what would happen if he did. He’s loved Peter for centuries, there’s no doubt about it, but Peter’s never shown any interest. He’s all naive and wonderstruck, Tony doesn’t think Peter quite knows about sex, if he’s honest.

Tony’s clad in a sleek black suit, and there are streaks of rouge through his dark hair. The sunglasses look a little odd, but no one is looking twice.

“I thought you had something to do with that horrible war,” Peter says, chocolate crumbs on his lips as he drinks the sweet, fruity cocktail Tony ordered for him. “I was so happy you didn’t!”

“That’s all the humans, I’m afraid,” Tony sighs, easing back in his chair. His whole body itches. Being away from Peter for so long has just reminded him how much he loves him. How much he wants him. “Come back to mine. It’s been too long, angel.”

Peter blushes again, and dabs his lips with the handkerchief. “I can’t, Tony. If the others-“ he glances up towards the ceiling, “-found out that I was hanging out with you-“

“Screw the others,” Tony insists, and he makes his voice soft, and thinks about the time he and Peter both tried to distract King Arthur so he wouldn’t find the fountain of eternal youth. He thinks about the way they laughed in the forest, surrounded by animals that were so much bigger than they are now. “C’mon, it’s been an age. Let me tempt you. I was just in Belgium. Scrumptious little truffles, you’d love them.”

His angel looks tempted, and if that isn’t Tony’s job, he’s not sure what is. There are little freckles dappled across Peter’s nose, and he leans forward, the white cotton of his suit touching Tony’s black velvet. “Maybe. They’re not too happy with me anyway.” He lifts his eyebrows up towards the heavens. “I accidentally performed a miracle again.”

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. “How many times do we have to talk about that?”

“It was an accident!” Peter exclaims, “The King has these gorgeous little girls, Tony! They just wanted a little freedom from the palace, that’s all-“

Damn it all to hell, Tony adores him. Peter’s sweet breath fanning over his face, those excited eyes, the stray white feathers here and there. “Come back with me.” Tony asks again, and his fingers shake with the urge to touch Peter’s cheek. “Please, angel.”

Peter beams, all pleased, and he nods. “Since you asked so nicely.”

*** Tony has a townhouse in the city, stained black here and there with ash and soot. Peter’s little cottage in Northumberland is almost overgrown with violets and honeysuckle. Don’t ask Tony how he knows that. 

Peter looks around in amazement, touching all of Tony’s souvenirs. He stops at a chalet of poison. He turns and frowns at Tony who does his best not to look too sheepish. “Tony,” he warns, “I hope you didn’t have anything to do with Rasputin.”

Tony shrugs, snapping his fingers so the kettle boils instantly. “Who can really tell, Angel? Here, have some tea. I have your favourite.”

Peter lingers a little by the poison, but is easily swayed, and sits down amidst the cluttered collection of burnt Bibles and stolen treasures. Tony takes the opportunity to sit right beside him, their legs brushed together.

He thinks he sees Peter blush, but he’s not sure.

“If I find out you had something to do with Rasputin, Tony…”

“If a crazy man wants to make a deal with a demon, Petey, what do you want me to do? You perform your little miracles, am I not allowed to break a few rules here and there? Besides, what’s the harm. He’s dead, isn’t he?” Tony had made quite sure of that. 

Peter scowls at that, but nibbles on the biscuits Tony’s provided, and settles in.

They talk about their recent travels, and Tony puffs out his chest when Peter leans in: fascinated, as he regales his adventures in South America. He, of course, makes sure to leave out any evil-doing, and just watches as Peter gives him all of his attention.

Night comes too quickly, and Peter yawns- surprising himself- and it’s so cute Tony almost leans forward and kisses him right then and there.

“Good heavens!” Peter exclaims, “I should be getting back. Tony, this has been lovely!”

“Don’t go,” Tony urges, because he’s not sure he can bear to be without him. “I have a spare room.”

Peter hesitates, but nods slowly. “Maybe that would be best. No turning into a Serpent or anything, okay?”

Tony laughs, full bodied and delighted, and he sticks out his hand to shake. “I promise.”

Tony goes to bed that night- alone- but also not alone. He may not have his angel’s love yet, but give him time- and he will.

[ofcloudsandstars]

IMBOLC was so MAGICAL!! Oh my goodness!!

It's a bit of a long story and I don't want to leave out too many details but I am so glad it all turned out more than ok!! I did not have enough time to put everything together easily and I had to whip up a ritual last minute and I was staying at a coworker’s BOUGIE apartment that is BEAUTIFUL and Ideal for an Imbolc setting (the color scheme is like all white, gray and cream with TALL ceilings, Huge french windows, fluffy white carpets, fireplaces I could put white pillar candles in, long sheer white curtains, you get the point lol) but literally I had a witch gathering party at his place while he was away and I had to make it look like nothing. ever. happened.. the next morning.

I bought these string candle-lights which everyone was laughing at how in theme it was but I strung some across window sills and over the fireplace that I've stuffed white pillar candles in. I stuck tea lights everywhere and found some silvery tealights at a corner shop that were "spa scented" which sounds weird but!! They smelled fantastic and made the space feel calmer. I topped those with sage leaves. I used vanilla incense sticks and this other scent called 'Divine' (that stamford masala incense brand you might see at every spiritual shop) that really elevated the space and made it feel calm and angelic. The whole apartment felt very angelic, light, white and fluffy. On their large screen TV I made a visual playlist on youtube of timelapse videos of nature thawing into spring and frost melting or flowers sprouting from the ground. I played a lot of winter meditative tracts and purifying binural beats.

I pulled strings to get out of work early so I could run to my coworkers place, feed his cats, and get to cooking!! I made a spread of cheese, (mostly brie), coconut cheese, cheese infused crackers and poppyseed crackers, black sable grapes and blueberries that I sprinkled silver bonbons in.

I prepared 3 tonics as a welcome drink that my witch friends could choose from to what potion will aid them for the seeds they are sowing and the cycles to come. They were syrups that were agave based and infused with herbs overnight. There was one for clarity to know what steps to take to achieve goals and that was an infusion of sage, juniper berries and rosemary. There was one for inspiration and sudden muse or creativity to help complete projects and that one was an infusion of valerian root, chamomile, blue poppyseeds and caraway seeds. (Seeds were also symbolic in this one lol), then lastly there was one for inner fire and a wake-up call to get the drive going to get tasks done. That was a black breakfast tea leaf with a sprinkle of pepper in it. They were mixed with Gin (gin being a juniper infusion actually has an interesting history with being used as a cleanser and medicine though its obviously not used that way anymore) and tonic so they were all really herbal and refreshing (non-alcoholic drinks were just gin-free) and they all had a pretty light golden clear color. The clarity one was the most popular though I wish I drank some of the wake-up call one myself.

For food I made baked macaroni and cheese with mozzarella, sharp cheddar, brie, sweet sauteed white onions, black pepper and truffle oil. The plant-based option was stuffed cabbage rolls made with this BEAUTIFUL cabbage I had no idea existed (it caught my eye in the store) called sweetheart cabbage. It was snow-white colored and each large leaf was somewhat heart-shaped. I stuffed it with a sauteed combo of white sweet onions, white mushrooms, chopped parsnips, cauliflower rice and coconut cheese. Lastly I made a salad of chopped fennel and the smaller leaves of the sweet heart cabbage and raw parsnips.

The whole table's food had a white and beige theme lol. We all caught up about our lives and ate food and coo-ed over the cats. When everyone arrived we got to the ritual which I dressed his coffee table in different tea lights and bigger candles. Since I am WIZENED from many previous disasters with candles on tables and witch shenanigans, I put SEVERAL covers on his glass coffee table which consisted of 1- bamboo mats, 2- a white blanket as table cloth (mostly for aesthetic) 3- a coat of aluminum foil 4- 2 layers of cream table cloths. Just to ensure nothing could damage his table.

I am not the biggest fan of leading ritual cause it feels uncomfortable to me to 'lead' everyone's energy but its nice cause this is the third sabbat in a row I've hosted and I guess my friends get the gist now so they all kind of contribute their own parts to it which is.. WHAT I WANTED IN THE FIRST PLACE lol. I take initiative to host sabbats or gatherings or create a community so sometimes people think I am a leader cause I am initiating something but honestly I just want to hold space for others. Anyway the ritual started off with us cleansing baggage from our previous cycle so we can move into the next one purified. I had a juniper bundle I bought in glastonbury that I smoke cleansed everyone with.

Then we spoke about what Imbolc meant for us and how its also reflective on the cycle of life and death when the spirit enters the womb and how seeds of life and hope are stirring. I asked them each to take a tea light and visualize it as a goal or project they wanted to accomplish for this year and to dress it in herbs and oils. I had sage for clarity, rosemary for abundance, blue poppy seeds for growth and inspiration, tea tree oil for protection etc and they could carve in symbols to their candle or whatever. When they were working on that I read everyone's spirit's incarnation crosses from their human design since I knew everyone's birth time lol. The incarnation cross uses some astrology to take into consideration the position of the planets during your third trimester when it’s believed that the spirit enters the body in the womb. It’s to illuminate what your spirit’s intention in this incarnation seeks to fulfill. 

Before we lit the candle my best witch friend took us on this AMAZING guided mediation that was so creative and visual and wonderful. We grounded ourselves but she took us on this story-telling guided meditation journey of us being deep in the earth and smelling the damp soil but having our goal be this light or seed within us that grows and expands until it pushes us up and out through the soil into the wintery forest air. I really felt like some reborn forest faerie sprite after that like she should record meditation podcasts.

We then lit our candles and we used the flame to light the biggest pillar candle as our combined hope and it lit ABLAZED. One of my friends couldn't get her candle to light and we did divination for her to find out what was blocking her and did a road opening spell for her so that she could overcome the obstacles.

After we wanted to do some candle scrying so another friend who does these amazing sound healing ceremonies (I went to glastonbury with her) lead the candle scrying and Y'all.. it was INSANE Like none of us were READY for the fucking adventure.. Basically we thought we'd all be staring into a candle in a trance quietly but it literally felt like something took hold of her like a greater spirit used her as a vessel and it was incredible. She told us all to hold hands and we closed our eyes and did some breathing. We all had to pulse each others hands and visualize a white thread locking us together for protection and creating a circle. She then called on to our higher guides to protect us and create this link to our higher spirits to open a channel so that we may see and allow the fire to guide us. She then was speaking so fast but also with such precision on how the light is opening a door and whatever we will see will help us unlock our true potential and see how we are the light etc for what felt like 6 minutes nonstop and it was so hard to stay on cause I had the WORST PAIN come up in the center of my back where my heart was and I was feeling like it was the culmination of energy being blocked (I have been doing sound healing there to help my heart energy but its been a rough journey), and the fire just felt like it could not channel through me cause of that blockage, but though the knot still hurts even as I type this, I could not break the circle lol. My best friend to my right was staring so intently I knew she was off like astral projecting into this fire, and as I would catch glimpses of others around me everyone was just like.. ON a Journey. I felt like it was like that scene in Harry Potter when they took the port key like we were all locked in and spiraling through time and space and I just had to wait until it was done. I looked at my friend to my right and she was beaming with TEARS covering her face, and my other friends looked windswept for some reason?? We were all like goddamn.. Everyone had Some Shit they've seen in the fire. Even if some of us didn't see something we saw a lot of colors which I mostly saw since I was really focused on the pain in my back. My friend leading the scrying said that the back area I pointed out was a channel that was blocked and is connected to my throat energy so once I fix that it can be aligned/opened but its like.. healing is so hard guys haha.

Anyway we grounded ourselves after the ritual with dessert! :) There was cheesecake (of course) I decorated with white chocolate star sprinkles and the same silver bonbon sprinkles and pavlova that could be topped with blueberries. I also had a cookie spread of butter cookies, white chocolate chip sugar cookies and white chocolate twix bars. The rest were mostly vegan desserts which were lovely. I bought coconut rice pudding but my other friends got vanilla cupcakes with thick white vegan buttercream, there was vanilla soy icecream that was really creamy and light and my aries witch friend I went to Berlin with made home made vegan tiramisu which was fantastic! She also bought red wine.

We spent the rest of the evening chatting, playing with the cats and laughing about whatever, my Aries witch friend was upset I made the dresscode all-white but she was wearing her 'artist' shirt she does painting in so she didn't care that she got tiramisu ALL OVER IT lol. (which we pointed out that no one else had stains on their white outfits but I mean she's an Aries what do you expect), and when we were all getting drunk and sleepy I asked my best witch friend if she wanted to tell a story and Oh My God she fucking DELIVERED

Basically she took us on this adventure retelling the story of Baba Yaga cause it was a tale that does also have to do with crone passing power to a maiden and a cycle re-continuing. Plus it's a midwinter tale involving fire and illumination. Anyway I used to think about how sad it was that back in the day people didn't have movies and had to like tell stories and shit but she was so good at telling this story I was like damn I get it now why people just used to sit around and tell stories together cause this shit is lit.

Before everyone left I forced people to take home food (I mean I had to get rid of all evidence of anything happening in my coworkers house) and I made everyone white paper lanterns with goodies inside and I stuck an electric tealight in it so it glows. I put a bathbomb in there, white chocolate, mint crumbles, buttermints for the non-vegans and tiny spell-jars filled with salt flakes.

When I was finally alone and had to do cleanup it took me nearly three hours but I was also drunk at that point lol. I now have left-over mac and cheese for days but gladly my aries witch friend is vegan and took the cabbage rolls with her and everyone helped take everything else.The cleaner came in the morning and essentially all evidence of anything ever occurring in that apartment was cleansed away...

I hope everyone else had a fantastic Imbolc!! It was on such a perfect moon phase too since it's the first quarter moon!!

[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 53: Epilogue

Sunday June 29th, 2036 - Talk Story Bookstore, Kauai, Hawaii.

Stepping inside Talk Story after two decades had passed was surreal. It remained essentially the same, right down to the red painted walls. I, too, remained essentially the same, if you ignored the wrinkles that had begun to etch themselves into the flesh of my fifty-eight-year-old face…laugh lines, frown lines, and a downright furrow between my eyebrows from a lifetime of what-the-fuckery. The grey hair that had first appeared when I found myself wrangling three children all under the age of five was now expertly masked with copious amounts of dye applied by the talented folks at Zig-Zag Hair & Body. I still did yoga on a regular basis, more now that the kids were…well, grown, I guess. For the most part. Which was really a mind-blower, as is everything else associated with the passage of time in regard the human condition. Aging, kids, is not for the weak. No one tells you that if you sleep too long, your body parts will hurt. Your tits will sag, you’ll pee your pants when you cough, sneeze, or laugh too hard, your hands will ache if you, you know, use them to do stuff…like hold books. Your knees will creak to the point where you aren’t sure if it’s you making sounds or the stairs you’re descending. After you’ve finished a round of particularly vigorous doggy-style, you’ll find yourself uncertain as to which will be more detrimental…remaining in place or attempting to get off the bed. It’s an unimaginable brutality, standing powerless against the effects of time on your physical being while the inner you, the corporeal you, does not follow suit. This Maude was the same Maude who had married the love of her life in this very place, right down to her limitless desire for Lindor truffles and continued disgust at the idea of pineapples on pizza. I can, however, confirm that time does aid in the healing process, which is how we ended up back on Kauai. Each year that passed put more distance between us and the horror we’d endured, and little by little we were able to work through it, first by being able to actually view our wedding photos and videos, then feel small bits of joy while doing so, until finally, sixteen years out, the fear and anxiety was almost fully overridden by that joy. And here we were, on the day of our 20th wedding anniversary, right where it had all begun.

Some unpleasant memories, though faded and dim, still lingered, and as a result neither Tom nor I could bring ourselves to return to the Coconut Beach Marriott. The kids were all aware of the circumstances surrounding our wedding and the days that followed, as we’d vowed to be open and honest about it if the subject ever came up, because we preferred that they learned the truth from us rather than believing what they might have seen on the internet. Two years ago the need for the ‘the talk’ had arisen, and Henry’s reaction had utterly floored me…he’d leapt up off the couch, pulled me into his arms and whispered that he’d hoped his presence had brought me some comfort and that he wished he’d been able to do more. He’d turned nineteen in February, my firstborn, and even though as a parent you’re not supposed to, like, have a favorite…he was, in fact, my favorite, at least in the sense that there was a depth and level of understanding between us that was akin to psychic connection. Perhaps it was due to our shared trauma, or perhaps it was the trauma that caused me to relate to him differently…though in the end, it didn’t matter because I’d never expressed such a sentiment out loud, nor would I. Besides, I’d always known that he already knew anyway.

 Henry…also known as Our Son the Writer, as well as Indy Gallagher, his chosen pen name. He’d taught himself to read at age four, having grown frustrated with Tom and I not being able to drop whatever we were in the middle of, which was usually dealing with one of his siblings, in order to do it on his behalf. From that point forward, books and the stories they contained were his passion…he was never without reading material, absorbing any and all information he encountered and losing himself completely in imagined realities, always longing for more. It was that longing which set him upon the path to becoming an author when he was thirteen, having found himself unwilling and unable to accept that George R. R. Martin’s ‘A Song of Fire and Ice’ series had gone unfinished and deciding he’d tackle the task on his own. A year and many kudos on AO3 later he’d started to build his own fictional universe, and when he self-published the first book of the series, ‘Times Prior’, in August of 2034 it sold a half-a-million copies inside of sixty days without any marketing whatsoever. The main characters were inter-dimensional entities left stranded on Earth, their memories thought to have been wiped clean, and the story followed their journey as they sought to combine the snippets of their past that remained into a single coherent whole that revealed their history while attempting to covertly integrate with humanity. Book two, ‘Presented Puzzles’ had been released in early December of last year, hitting the million mark within two weeks. Though I already had first edition tucked away at home, I hoped to find one here to purchase so I could secure the receipt to the flyleaf with a notation that this copy had been purchased from the location where Indy Gallagher’s own story had begun.

 When I felt Tom’s hand on my back as he stopped to stand on my left, I turned my head his way, peering upward. Though he had his share of wrinkles and his hair, which he’d taken to wearing long enough to brush his chin, had gone completely grey at the temples with salt and pepper throughout the rest, the fucker did NOT look fifty-five. Not to me, anyway…when you’re young and you imagine being fifty-five it seems so damn old, but when it’s staring you in the face, or especially once you’ve passed it by yourself, not so much. There were still bricks in his stomach, his ass remained quarter-bounce ready, and, now that the Hiddlespawn had matured, I took advantage of the Silver Fox Hotness Level One Billion as often as humanly possible. As you do. He grinned at me, then leaned in to nuzzle my cheek with his own.

 “Well, here we are, my love, at long last. How the ever-loving fuck has it been twenty years? Speaking of…perhaps I can interest you in a waltz down memory lane via a certain out-of-the way restroom?”

 My jaw dropped open. “Oh my god, how dare you? Since when am I the kind of woman who has sex in public places?”

 He laughed, tongue poking out between his teeth. “To the best of my recollection, since…forever.”

 I crossed my arms, eyes rolling skyward. “Your recollection has clearly become unreliable, old man.”

 “Mmm hmm. Meet me there in twenty?”

 "Absofuckingloutely." I uncrossed my arms with the intention of pinching his nipple through the fabric of his white V-neck T-shirt, but was interrupted by the arrival of our entourage as they filed through the door and filtered into the space around us.

 Simon settled in to my right, with Luke at his side, as per usual. Simon’s approach to aging was best described as rage, rage against the dying of the light…his hair remained blonde, though these days, much like Tom, he’d been wearing it longer, so much so that he occasionally sported a ponytail. Just a ponytail, never, ever a man bun. Never. I was, and I quote, to ‘dispatch him quickly and without prejudice’ if I ever witnessed him committing such an unforgivable offense. Fillers and chemical peels were a regular occurrence, as were weekly spa visits and a thorough daily skin cleansing and hydrating regimen. He made use of our gym more than Tom or I did and had taken up running more than a decade ago, which he’d deemed necessary in order to have enough physical stamina to open his own restaurant. It was a joint venture with his son Roland, aptly named Ka-Tet…with permission from Uncle Steve, of course, who was still cranking out wordy goodness at eighty-nine. It was located close to home, near Regent’s Park in the space formerly occupied by Odette’s, with a décor that was best described as dystopian spaghetti western. There was no set menu…Simon decided he’d be preparing whatever the fuck he felt like making on any given day, take it or leave it…and they were only open Friday and Saturday nights, which created an air of exclusivity that resulted in the place being booked almost a year in advance. It was perfect work-life balance for him, and whenever anyone mentioned how youthful he appeared he’d nod and reply that all credit belonged to his favorite preservation method…daily alcohol infusions.

 Luke remained at the helm of Prosper, though he’d pulled back significantly since Ka-Tet had opened and essentially served only in an advisory capacity. He’d begun to lose his hair just prior to turning forty, and he’d opted to just shave it all off and embrace baldness as opposed to undergoing transplants or wearing a toupee. It suited him, honestly, and his penchant for quirky glasses and three-day stubble seemed to transform him into the way he was always meant to look. Scholarly, like a college professor. Which he and Simon had role-played, as I’d been forced to discover even though my hands were covering my ears, because Simon wouldn’t take no for an answer and spoke louder instead when I requested that he keep that shit to himself. I watched as he reached for Simon’s hand without even a glance downward, their fingers twining together in a gesture so often repeated it was automatic, built into the fabric of their muscle memory. They turned to smile at each other, then shifted their gazes in unison to focus on their daughters as they passed by to their right.

 Seph’s light brown hair was wound up in a bun that rested at the base of her neck, dressed in a light blue linen tank dress that matched the frames of her glasses. She resembled Luke a great deal, other than her lips and nose, the former much fuller, the latter more rounded at the tip. Her frame was lithe, almost lanky, and she stood an inch or two taller than me sans heels. In the fall she’d be returning to Cambridge for her second year in pursuit of her BA Tripos Degree in Law, after which she intended to obtain a Masters in Law, then finally a Doctorate in Law. Ez, who was essentially a carbon copy of Simon as far as physicality was concerned, was currently a student at the New York School of Design and would be heading back to the city after our vacation. She’d just finished the Fashion Design certificate program and was scheduled to intern at Manhattan Fashion in the Garment District from July 15th through September 1st, at which point she’d return to NYSD to complete their Couture and Menswear programs back to back.  She’d designed the dress Seph was wearing, as well as her own, a white cotton sleeveless wrap-around that hugged her curves and accentuated her impossibly tiny waist. Which I supposed was made possible, along with exceptional genetics, by running six days a week, an activity she’d often participated in with the other masochists in my life…Simon, Tom and Henry. Now that she was based in New York it was solely Henry, their ability to pair up simplified by the fact that both of them resided in the same building, Henry in my old apartment, Ez in hers two floors below. He was standing next to her, dwarfing her five-foot-six frame with his own, his height topping out at six-foot-one, just an inch shy of Tom’s. His hair, worn shoulder-length, was black like my mother’s but curly like mine, eyes identical to Tom’s in shape and color. He had Tom’s nose as well, but my lips and jaw. Like his father, he was lean but muscular, blessed with a gracefulness that I had never possessed. He’d relocated to New York the previous summer to focus on writing, opting to forgo college in the wake of the success of his debut novel. I agreed that college would be a waste, being a firm believer in the fact that one could either write, or couldn’t, but I’d called bullshit on the ‘going away to focus’ aspect, at least privately when Tom and I discussed it. He and Ez had always been very good friends, nearly inseparable, and I felt it in my bones that the real reason he’d decided to leave London was so they could remain in close proximity to one another. Her desire to live in the same building had been presented as great way for both of them to adjust to new surroundings without feeling isolated, which was true, but again, my bones had whispered that there was something bubbling beneath the surface. There had been no confirmation as yet, and I’d stopped mentioning it when Tom, the most hopeless romantic amongst all hopeless romantics, told me I was turning into an even more hopeless romantic than he’d ever been. But it hadn’t stopped me from, you know, looking for signs.

A flash of flaming red glimpsed out of the corner of my eye caused me to turn and look to my left, basking in the breathtaking sight of the whirling dervish that was our daughter, Mona Diane Hiddleston, born at sunset on Wednesday, June 17th, 2018. Her hair was the color of my father’s and Tom’s paternal grandmother’s, wavy like Tom’s, worn long and loose and hanging halfway down her back. Her eyes were brown like mine, and shaped like them as well, but the rest of her face was all Tom. She was five-foot-nine, and often described as a force of nature, at which point I’d smile and say that I had not the slightest idea who she’d gotten that sort of personality from. She’d be relocating to New York in mid-August to begin her dual-enrollment program at Julliard, studying both Instruments and Composition with the goal of a Doctorate in Musical Arts and a career as a conductor in mind. Unlike me, she could read and write music, and play any instrument she was handed with little to no training. Her singing voice was exceptional, her range higher than mine though not quite as broad, but she’d never expressed any interest in developing it other than participating in the school chorus because she needed an elective to flesh out her schedule. Mona had been our ‘difficult’ child…as a baby she’d been fussy, easily irritated with a sleep schedule that was measured in fifteen-minute increments, and as a toddler we’d dealt with outbursts and tantrums over what we considered to be thoroughly minor issues, such as the lights being too bright, her clothes being too tight, or the seams of her socks being ‘wrong’. Throughout it all, the only consistent way to soothe her had been with music, be it listening to it or creating her own using our piano, pots and pans, or anything else that provided rhythmic sounds. Shortly after she turned five, she was diagnosed with sensory processing disorder, which we learned later on went hand-in-hand with her being highly gifted. All three kids were, which wasn’t exactly a surprise given Tom’s and my placement on the IQ scale, but giftedness manifests differently in each individual with a variety of traits, some more challenging to cope with than others. Once we’d established a methodology for managing her SPD, she was like a different human being…strong, steadfast, boisterous, fully confident in her sense of self and intent on extracting each and every thing she expected from this world without apology. And my god, I was so very, very fucking proud to be her mother. And honored. She’d noticed I was staring at her and had just opened her mouth to ask me why when our youngest bounded out from behind her, paused briefly at her left, then pivoted to park himself directly in front of her.  

 Sean James Hiddleston, born Friday, October 23rd, 2020 five minutes before midnight, named as such due to the fact that the blue hue of the eyes that peered up at me when he opened them for the first time was identical to my father’s. He’d been a complete surprise, so much so that I hadn’t even realized I was pregnant until I was three months in…at 42, I’d figured missed periods meant I was embarking on the journey into menopause, and when Tom suggested that perhaps I should take a pregnancy test I’d laughed and laughed. Henry had just turned three and Mona wasn’t quite two, and when I saw the giant plus sign in the test window the laughter faded damn fucking quick when I realized Tom and I would shortly be outnumbered by a trio of ankle biters all under the age of four. After the initial shock dissipated, we were overjoyed, in awe of how the universe continued to be so generous to us, providing yet another miracle. By the time I’d begun to show Henry was cognizant enough to ask questions, and when I informed him he’d soon have a new brother or sister his face had paled and he’d whispered ‘Mamma, will it be like Mona?’, causing Tom to run out of the room, unable to keep his shit together, while I comforted Henry by explaining that every baby is different, the entire time asking myself the same question he had internally. As it happened any worries about his temperament were for naught, because Sean had been a jovial soul right from the get go. He was the child, however, that we had to keep the closest eye on because if left to his own devices even for a second he’d be into something he shouldn’t have been, and when confronted he’d just grin and simply say ‘But I’m learning things.’ Even still, at fifteen-going-on-thirty, he uttered that same phrase at least once a day. Sometimes more. Like when I’d caught him trying to remotely hack into my brand new Alienware laptop two weeks prior…you know, just to see if he could. And, of course, he could. Of all three children he resembled Tom the most, blond wavy hair, same blue eyes, nose and jaw…the only bit of me in his face were his lips. He’d begun his adolescent growth spurt just after Christmas and had shot up from five-nine to six-two in what seemed like no time whatsoever, and if I did a side-by-side of him and Tom from his Eton days it wasn’t easy to tell who was who. Despite their physical similarities, Sean had been cursed with my lack of grace and had already broken almost every toe and sprained various extremities on the regular. He had been blessed, however, with my engineering and mathematical skills, and his abilities made an accelerated program via online courses the best option for him after he’d finished year six. Once he turned sixteen he’d be permitted entry into Cambridge’s School of Technology, where he planned to focus on Computer Science, but the next round of required classes wouldn’t be available until fall of 2037. Starting in September of this year he’d be officially interning at CodeHex, working both with me and other high-level employees across our departments. I say ‘officially’ because he’d been interning in an unofficial capacity for nearly four years, popping in every weekday as soon as he’d finished his online courses back at our flat. When he was a preschooler he’d spent a good bit of time there as well, at my side or on my lap, as I worked to establish the CodeHex company and brand during my ‘free’ hours while Henry and Mona were at school. On the first day of his own year one he’d frowned as Tom and I hugged and kissed him goodbye outside the school’s entrance, stating that while he was very excited to make all sorts of new friends and learn new things, he’d very much miss his old job and old friends. Then he’d spotted a girl with a Captain Marvel backpack and promptly ditched us in order to run over and introduce himself, turning back to wave and smile at us before returning his attention to her and walking into the building while Tom and I stood on the sidewalk crying our eyes out like a couple of schumucks.

 He’d moved closer to me, though still blocking his sister, arms raised and hands extended, palms toward Tom and I as he spoke.

 “This is it, then, is it Mum? Where you and Dad met? All those years ago? Right here? In this bookshop?”

 I nodded. “Yeppir. Also where we got engaged, and where we got married.”

 Tom elbowed me, and Simon twisted his torso sideways to gawk at me, his head cocked to the right.

 “Woman, have you finally lost your mind? You were married at the Marriot. I was there, looking resplendent in my purple tux while you puked in the bushes, remember?”

 Opting to attempt to make a royal fuck-up appear as if it were a conscious choice, I turned my head towards him, index finger of my right hand raised and pointing toward his chest. “Well, you’re not totally wrong…we were married at the Marriot, but that was actually our second ceremony. The first one happened here, right after midnight so it was officially on the twenty-ninth.”

 Simon gasped, placing his right hand over his heart, finders splayed wide. “Are you telling me right now, twenty fucking years later, that the two of you snuck off and got married without your best friends and spent the entire next day pretending your entirely invalid not at all legally binding apparently just for show wedding ceremony was one-hundred-percent genuine?”

 I bit my lip and glanced skyward briefly, then back at Simon. “Yes. Yes I am.”

 He reached out and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Maude Hiddleston, I have never been prouder of you than I am at this moment, you sneaky little MINX. How did you keep it a secret this whole time?”

 I shrugged. “Only four people on the planet knew…me, Tom, the judge and Roger Marshal.” While researching our trip we’d learned that Roger had passed away in 2033, but his daughter Denise had taken over the business. Tom and I planned on seeking her out during our visit, but hadn’t provided any advance notice as we felt that expressing our condolences in person would be most appropriate since Talk Story, and her father, had played such an important role in our lives. I poked Simon’s left pec with my right index finger. “Shouldn’t you be all ragey because you weren’t there or something?”

 He released my shoulders and crossed his arms in front of him, rested his right elbow in his left hand as he tapped his lips with his left index finger, then pointed it at me. “You know what? I fucking should be. But I’m not. Because I’m sure it was all mushy-mushy gushy-gushy and there was probably sniffling and crying and Shakespearean sonnet level verbal exchanges and therefore I’m dropping it in the ‘glad to have missed it’ bucket.” He mock-gagged, and as I swatted at him he pulled back and away, flipping me double birds.

 Mona stepped out from behind Sean, her head tilted to the left. “Well that diminishes both the impact and validity of all those lectures on the critical importance of honesty a bit, doesn’t it?”

 Tom roared with laughter, and I smirked. “I look forward to opening the box that contains my ‘HYPOCRITE’ T-shirt this coming Christmas morning. Men’s 2 XL, please. Black with white lettering. Maybe a ‘do as I say, not as I do’ on the back written in a script font?”

 Henry raised his hand as he joined in. “Oh! Oh! There must be some photographic evidence of the clandestine ceremony hidden away somewhere, I’d imagine? That absolutely needs to be on the T-shirt’s front-side. And Dad’s complicit, so we’ll have to have one made for him as well.”

 Sean grinned. “If such evidence exists, you can count on me to track it down.”

 I glanced over at Tom, who was still chuckling. “This whole kid thing…your idea, wasn’t it? I can’t fathom having done this to myself without being coerced by an insanely hot dude via repeated seductions until I…”

 All three of them screeched in unison. “MUM!”

 Tom pointed at them in turn. “The lesson here, progeny of mine, in case you needed a refresher course…your mother is a master of diversionary tactics and especially enjoys their implementation when the outcome is likely her having…hmm…how shall I phrase this delicately?”

 I snorted. “What your voluble father is attempting to convey without incurring my wrath is…the last word. I like having the last word. He neglected to mention that no topic is off limits in the pursuit of achieving that particular goal. So, shall we move on or would you prefer that I begin my dissertation on our wedding night activities?”

 Again, in unison, with Simon, Luke, Seph and Ez joining in this time around. “MOVE ON.”

 We all split off then, singly for some, in pairs for others, and wandered around the shop. Tom and I paused in the precise spot I’d been standing two decades earlier, narrowing down my reading options for what I’d thought would be hours of alone time on the beach. His arm slipped around my waist, and I circled his in turn, each of us leaning into the other, silent in our contemplation of the Before and the After, which is how we both viewed the stages of our lives prior to and since crossing paths. I could hear Sean exclaiming to Mona that he’d located the music section and that she just had to come see it immediately, Seph and Luke laughing as Simon assured them that yes, he did in fact still enjoy reading the Twilight Series novels and that there was nothing wrong with having a little vampy wolfie sad girl angsty fluff in your life thank you very much, and then, footsteps behind us…a strange echo of the past, and this time I didn’t hesitate to spin around to see who they belonged to. Tom did the same seconds afterward, and before us was a woman wearing a tea-length bright green tank dress, her jet-black hair worn in two braids that hung nearly to her waist. She smiled, and my mouth dropped open when I took note of her name tag. She smiled, realizing I’d recognized her.

 “Aloha, Hiddlestons. Welcome back to Talk Story.”

 I shook my head in disbelief. “Alani. Oh my god. Well, this is a mind fuck of epic proportions. And I’m spewing profanity. Whoops. Sorry.”

 Tom somehow managed to speak like an actual human being. “Alani! What a marvelous thing, seeing you again in this very special place…you’ve been well, I hope?”

 She laughed, then stepped forward to embrace both Tom and I, then pulled back. “I have. I teach at the Waimea High School during the year…9th grade English Literature. Weekends and summers inevitably find me here. This place seems to have a gravitational pull I’m unable…and unwilling…to escape.” Sighing, she glanced around the room, then fixed her gaze back on us. “Have you heard?”

 Nodding, I reached for Tom’s hand and took hold. “About Roger? Yes, but not until we started researching our trip. We wanted to wait to meet Denise to express our condolences. Is she available?”

 Alani shook her head, frowning slightly. “She’s not, I’m afraid. Honestly, we’ve not seen very much of her at all, and she hasn’t been back since she told us she was putting the place up for sale. Of course, I understand that it reminds her of her father and…”

 My grip on Tom’s hand tightened, as did his on mine, so much so that we both let go as if we’d received an electric shock. I took a deep breath, telling myself to be cool, Maude, be fucking cool before giving nonchalance a go.

 “So. Talk Story’s for sale? Huh. Well, we most definitely hadn’t heard that. I don’t recall seeing a sign…”

 Tom cleared his throat. “Neither do I. Does that mean a sale is pending, or is the property still available?”

 She nodded, which was not at all helpful, but the words she spoke afterward were. “It’s still available. The sign’s off to the right of the building, attached to the potted tree so it faces oncoming traffic. The realtor’s been in a few times since it went up in January, but never with any clients. Our revenue isn’t even a quarter of what it was a decade ago, and Denise isn’t very involved so things have gotten worse since Roger passed. At this point, I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be able to remain open, but I’m going to keep hoping that someone sees the value here, the history this place contains…” She cleared her throat, then shook her head back and forth slowly. “Goodness, I’m so terribly sorry. I honestly only meant to say hello…everything else just sort of…happened. I don’t know what came over me.”

 I reached out and patted her upper arm. “Please, no worries. This place seems to foster that sort of thing. Books aplenty with the occasional divine intervention. That’s so going on the marketing materials. You on board with that, Tom?”

 “Oh yes. Yes I am. Alani, do you happen to have the realtor’s number handy?”

 One walk-through, two hours, and countless document signatures later we were officially in contract to purchase Talk Story, with a closing date set for Tuesday, July 1st at 1 PM at the Kauai Coldwell Banker Realty office. Much like I had twenty-one years earlier, we all had to haul ass back to Kapaʻa in order to make our dinner reservation at Kauai Pasta, though this time we were a party of nine instead of three. We’d requested the same booth area, spilling over into the two additional sections in the same row that backed the wall. Tom and I, in an effort to be appropriately extra, ordered the exact same meal we’d ordered the day we met, but sat side-by-side instead of across from each other. Midway through the main course we turned to each other, smiling as our eyes met, and all the noise of friends and family faded into the background as we paused to remember, lost in our thoughts of days gone by, and I felt this monstrous rush of emotions…love, joy, peace, and so many more…and I was so…so…grateful. Granted, I was grateful every day, but this was an all-encompassing gratefulness, and I looked away for a moment to survey our friends, their children, and each of our own children in turn. Life is incredibly strange and unusual, even downright cruel at times, but like the weed-dealing kid in American Beauty said, “sometimes there's so much beauty in the world, I feel like I can't take it, and my heart is just going to cave in”, and that’s where I was at in that moment, in the very same space that had fanned the flames of the spark that had emerged at Talk Story. Which we’d just bought. For nine-hundred and fifty thousand dollars, all contents included. I turned my gaze back to Tom, my head tilting to the right.

 “Did we, like, just actually buy a bookstore? As in, the bookstore we’ve always considered ‘our’ bookstore is now…our bookstore?”

 He nodded, and I felt his hand first on my knee, then creeping up under my shorts. “We did. And while I’m thoroughly delighted with that particular development, I’m also a tad disappointed because we missed out on our restroom rendezvous this go-round. Care to christen this one instead?”

 “Oh, that’s a bold move right there, Thomas. The ladies’ room is literally separated from this table by a single wall. I’ll go first, you get up five minutes later and lurk outside the door…I’ll leave it open a crack so I can keep watch. When the coast is clear I’ll pull you inside.”  I lowered my voice, whispering in his ear. “And then I’ll, you know, pull you inside again. And again.”

 He groaned quietly. “Woman. Cease. And go. Go now.”

 I excused myself, and that five minutes seemed to take a thousand years. There was fire in his eyes when he shut and locked the door behind him, and without a word he turned me around, bent me over the sink, pulled off my shorts and underwear and fucked me so hard I couldn’t help but cry out his name as I came, which he muffled quickly by covering my mouth with his left hand, which made me come again. And again. He soon followed, leaning down and biting my clothed shoulder gently to stifle his own cries. After he pulled out I stood upright, and he leaned in to kiss me, sucking my tongue into his mouth as he zipped himself up, peeked out the door, then exited and darted into the men’s restroom next door. I used the facilities, washed up, and waited for three minutes after I heard him finish up and walk by. A sly grin spread wide across his face awaited me as I returned to the table, and as I sat down Sean asked if we’d be ordering desert. Simon, ever the obnoxious asshat, smirked and commented that he was reasonably sure that some of us had already had their desert, which left Sean puzzled, Mona and Seph disgusted, and Henry and Ez blushing like mad, which really got my Spidey Senses all a-tingle. Luke simply smiled at me, shrugging helplessly, and I sighed, nodding, both of us silently accepting yet again that yes, this was indeed the life we’d chosen.

 As it happened, no desert was ordered…instead, we headed back to the beach house we’d rented on the Coconut Coast, in Anahola Beach Park, which was seven miles or so up from the Coconut Beach Marriott. With only four bedrooms, it meant the kids had to share, so Sean and Henry were in one room and Mona, Seph and Ez in another, but it was literally steps from the beach, totally private, and had a pool and a hot tub. All of that was lovely, but lovelier still was the item tucked away in the fridge…a two-tiered chocolate cake with layers of cheesecake filling, iced with white buttercream and decorated with green and purple fondant orchids. As Tom and I fed each other a slice, Simon smeared icing on the back of my neck. I retaliated by flinging a banana from a bowl on the counter in his direction because bananas are disgusting and there was no way I was wasting cake, and suddenly we were in the middle of an all-out food war that ended with all of us jumping into the pool fully clothed. Fun was had, at least until we clambered out of the water and got a gander at the current state of the formerly pristine kitchen. It was almost midnight by the time we finished cleaning up the mess we’d made, but we’d powered through by taking turns listening to our favorite playlists. Just as we’d begun to discuss our shower schedules, the first few notes of Adventure Of A Lifetime began to play. Without pausing to determine who was responsible for choosing it, Tom and I gravitated toward each other and began to dance, then sang, and as the song progressed we were joined by Simon, Sean, Henry, Ez, Mona, Seph and Luke. By the end we were essentially screaming the lyrics, a troupe of dancing fools bound by love and blood still sharing the same adventure, celebrating where we’d already been, exited for what we’d discover down the road. Everything you want’s a dream away…we are legends, every day.

 Later on, after all the good-nights were said and Tom had passed out after our engaging in some seriously spectacular anniversary shenanigans, I found myself wide awake. I walked to the glass sliders and stared past the pool at the reflection of the moonlight on the waves, the ebb and flow of the ocean that had always, to me, seemed representative of the back and forth, the ups and downs…all the moments of our lives as we pass through them. And then, there they were…Henry and Ez, walking toward the pool, holding hands. They too stood gazing out at the waves, and released each other’s hands to slip their arms around each other’s waists. Without warning, since I wasn’t privy to their conversation, Henry leaned backward, face to the sky, laughing the laugh that I knew sounded so very much like his father’s. I could see them both shaking with mirth, and they quieted slowly, her hand rubbing his back. As I continued to watch, transfixed, she rested her head against him, and he turned to pull her into his arms, then leaned down to kiss her.

 At that point what migh happen next was absofuckinglutely none of my business, so I turned around and headed back toward yet another temporary bed that contained the sleeping form of my personal, perfect, permanence, awash in moonlight. I was now more awake than ever, so I remained in a seated position next to him, my back resting against the headboard. He mumbled in his sleep, rolling over to drape his left arm across my lap. The desire to wake him up and share what I’d seen so I could have a ‘HA, I told you so’ moment was strong, but it was cast aside by a vivid memory from when Henry had been an infant. Tom had just returned from promoting Kong, and I, in my incredibly sleep deprived state, experienced an instance of déjà vu that evolved into a vision of me, at some point in the future, passing the sleeper Henry had been wearing that night to a young man. Back then, the voices I’d heard weren’t familiar, nor recognizable, but now…now they were, because I’d been listening to them all day long. I recalled that when I was still carrying him inside me, each time I’d held Ez, Henry had thrashed about wildly, something that had never occurred in such a fashion with anyone else. The entanglement particle theory came to mind, one that Tom had referenced in Only Lovers Left Alive, which Einstein had dubbed ‘spooky action at a distance’. If entwined particles become separated, even if they wind up at opposite ends of the universe, if one is altered or affected, the other will be identically altered or affected.

 I started down at the ring on Tom’s left hand, and the two on my own, one which had been inscribed with two lines of text at the bequest of the man who’d become my husband twenty years ago. On the first was ‘Talk Story - 6/29/15 - Our Story’, and on the second, ‘My Light in the Mist’. I was, briefly, unable to breathe, feeling that I suddenly, and for certain, temporarily, understood life, the universe and everything.

 Even in the darkest hour of our journey through this life, there’s light. You won’t see it in that moment, you might not see it for a long time afterward…but it’s there, hidden by darkness, and as the darkness begins to fade there will be tiny specks of it in the distance. Chase after them, because those specks – they’re hope. The fading darkness transitions to a thick fog, then a translucent mist…you may find yourself lingering there, in the in-between, reasonably content. Living, but with a sense of incompleteness that you can’t seem to define, are able to suppress, but can’t quite shake. That’s the light, reaching out for you. And one day, it will finally make contact. And if you’ll allow it, the light will take you by the hand and lead you out into the open where the sun can fully shine upon you again…or perhaps for the very first time. And I’m here to say…allow it. Grab that hand. Grab it with everything you have, and never let it go. No matter what, never, ever let it go.

- Maeve Curry, June 2015- July 2019

[mariaancaf]

To live a simple life without the so-called

“City Civilization”

Life shows you what to do. Do not take it hard with hundreds of questions and premonitions. Let her slowly pick them up. Otherwise he is confused. When you are at peace with yourself and your life, see what you need to do more clearly. How many of you have not had the opportunity to live your childhood in the country with our grandparents? Well, those who have spent their childhood in the city have lost out of small joys .The childhood lived in the country is different from all points of view and among which are the mostortamte for a child then camd is developing the physical, spiritual and mental health. At my grandparents I always ate healthy food, I drank 100% natural water directly from the spring, I remember the first time I tried to drink and I had the water with a bucket, it was a pleasant experience that I can enjoy whenever I want. to come and take water alone. I didn't have to stay in line, because sometimes a neighbor's grandparents would come along with the cows to feed them, but it was fun. There was also that baking bread that my grandmother used to knead in the evening and in the morning she was ready to put it in the oven

The family meal for us in the country was different from what we had in town. First of all, my grandmother would often make a long meal outside in the summer with all the goodies from the country, I remember the tomato salad with cucumbers, it was a delicacy she made it be until now I have never eaten such a good salad, bacon, green onions who sometimes sent me to his garden to pick it up, sheep and cow cheese, that chicken and pork stew again so tasty and warm bread. She also bakes cheese, cabbage, plums and coconuts with poppy, walnut and chocolate In the city the table was served in the Kitchen we were more civilized but all the goodies were bought from the mother's supermarket and she never managed to make a stew so good as that of the grandmother. It was to forget the essential element that made the whole meal muffin

Emotions encompass me by turning me back in the past and it makes me wish I could still live those moments filled with the blessings of the Lord.

Happiness is just a condition isn't it?

Happiness can be associated with peace, if you understand things well, if you feel them and act well you can experience happiness In the Civilization of the city, happiness is identified as a continuous search for something that probably does not exist. For the grandparents, the happiness was to go to the garden to collect your vegetables for food, villages to climb the trees and to eat the red apples ready to take your ladder and reach the blue grapes ready to be eating I felt a continuous joy doing close to me every day these simulated things others would take me silently describe each action to grandparents I was blessed to have a childhood with my dear grandparents. They had in the yard all kinds of animals chickens, geese, sparrows, turkeys, pigs, cows, horses, sheep, dogs, cats. Orchards full of trees that made plums of all kinds, apples every year I didn't need a TV although my grandparents had almost everything they could have in the country and in the city. We did not have time to stay in the house except when it was raining but then we would gather all the children and play in the water. I mean, however, life lived a few kilometers away from the city there is a different mentality and it seems as if all things flow by themselves. They live in a peace where people know each other, greet each other when they have time. It doesn't matter the house, the car, the clothes, the phone where people have a different conscience, they understand how things are going better and for them the value of things is based on states and not on having a valuable brand thing as we say, these are more civilized. Their souls are connected. The real life they live is the answer to the meaning of life. Far from everyday stress, life can be lived differently. You do not have to be famous, beautiful, with money to live true happiness. True life does not cost money, you invest in human relationships, in your family you fill the void with sentimental values, not material things? Everyone must try to live an experience somewhere far away from the so-called civilization. I guarantee you will be satisfied with a little.

Do not be afraid of material sacrifices, rather be afraid of the shortcomings that may weaken your soul Fear when the enemy lacks your soul of faith, hope, love of God and neighbor, when your heart, hatred, enmity, passion for the earthly ones, truffles and other sins are ignited. "Do not be afraid of those who kill the body, and the soul cannot kill it" (Matthew 10:28).

[embarktodenmark22]

June 3rd, 2022

At the start of this morning, everyone met at Norreport station once more, prepared for today’s main event- heading off to Sweden once more, this time for a few hours longer than our first visit. We got on the train pretty effortlessly, with 1 ticket to every 2 people (Train buddies!) and sat back, watching gorgeous scenery pass by and about 5 minutes of ocean as we travelled off the island and across a huge bridge to our destination, Malmo, Sweden. It’s crazy how they didn’t even wind up checking our passports or anything- just right over the border! Wild.

Once we arrived in Sweden, of course, before any design studio visits could happen, our very first objective was food. We walked past a creepy fountain, and down a nice road, and a group of us split off to get food from a Swedish Patisserie. I got the most delicious ham and cheese Croque Monsieur sandwich, a yummy spicy chai latte, and this interesting mix of truffle and cookie flavored like licorice (I cannot fully express how much Scandinavians seem to adore licorice. You literally, in my experience, cannot walk 15 feet in Copenhagen without finding a store with something licorice flavored… and salty licorice… a very acquired taste). The cookie was pretty good, I think I’m adapting to the initial weirdness I had with salty licorice flavored things.

Anyhow, once everyone was fed and ready to go, we headed to today’s first studio, UsTwo. The first impression was amazing, the interior of their space on the first floor had such an eclectic design- two large, brightly-colored murals on the walls, a playhouse for (presumably) employee’s children, an arcade room, a sitting room with nice couches, and just generally entertaining and aesthetically pleasing decor. And a clown horn, for some reason? Anyways, they filed us in, had us sign NDA’s (which restricts what I can talk about in the next few paragraphs, sadly). As we signed the NDAs and put our bags away, the most adorable fluffy dog I’ve ever seen galloped down the stairs and towards the new humans. I got to pet them. Literally such an adorable little critter. I need to focus, though- this is about design, not dogs (lol).

Once everyone had signed, Mick, one of the men who gave us our presentation (the other being Mike) guided us upstairs for a brief tour of their studio. All I have to say is, based on decor and the desks/actual workspaces alone, I would love to work in a studio like this one day. Literally so, so cool. We got shown around, then were lead to the room for the presentation. Waiting for us, with utmost evidence of hospitality, were a selection of plain and chocolate croissants and some sodas, which I gladly snagged. We then settled in, only for Mick to announce that we were to do a fun team-building exercise! I was honestly part scared part excited.

The exercise? Start by drawing your (realistic) superpower- depicting yourself as a superhero with the power that you have and giving it a name. For myself, I drew myself with many arms doing many things, and labeled it “Woman O’ Many Talents.” We were only given 5 minutes to do this, by the way. We were then given smaller sticky notes on which to write our names. We were to bring both big and small sticky note to the board (one with our name, the other with our drawing) and stick them to the wall in separate groups. The next task? In 5 minutes, our entire group had to- in complete silence- match names to drawings. If we disagreed with a placement, we would simply wordlessly move the stickies around ourselves. I’m ashamed to admit, but I was too anxious to participate in this step, really. Then, after 5 minutes, we stepped back and checked who was matched correctly and who not- only 5 people weren’t. We then had a second round for corrections, and placed everyone succesfully. It really was a cool exercise, it highlighted the different ways we knew each other- whether it was that we recognized each other’s “super-powers” (like multitasking, leading groups, designing within grids, etc) or each other’s unique quirks. It showed how close we all have grown as a group. It was an amazing, engaging way to start the process.

Now, not wanting to mess with NDA stuff, I won’t go into any specifics about the UsTwo presentation other than the fact that they are responsible for creating some pretty cool things! They are mostly UX/UI designers, which normally isn’t necessarily my cup of tea, but the kind of projects they discussed having worked on really were exciting and creative. (One being a popular game that I’d heard of, Monument Valley). They, essentially, discussed their design process and philosophies and the ways in which, again, the user is at the deepest core part of their design process at all levels. It was, again, a good reminder that, when designing, it’s not always about your desires as the designer so much as it is about effectiveness and usability for your viewer/user. The presentation also exposed me to the concept of “B-corps,” companies that are dedicated to making a positive impact on the world. In order to continually qualify as a B-corp, UsTwo has to constantly filter out and decline any projects they/B-corp standards deem as having a negative effect on people or on the planet, such as working for clients associated with things like pollution or gambling. As a student designer, one of my biggest points of anxiety has been the implications of potentially designing advertisements or brand collateral for companies that don’t put good out into the world- being stuck with clients that don’t match my own ethical approach to the world and to sustainability. However, realizing now that B corps are a thing, I feel hope that maybe I can find a studio to work with one day that, similarly to UsTwo, falls under this category and actively cares about the impact their work ultimately will have on the world.

I feel like I keep saying this, but it is, again, true- I left yet another studio feeling inspired. Seeing all of these different perspectives about design and creativity- all the different possibilities- back to back has really helped shape my outlook on the future of my desired career path and direction of my work as a creative in general.

But now back to having fun in a foreign city. Because, as much as I love feeling inspired and motivated about my future work, I am human and want to buy nice trinkets and eat yummy food.

Needless to say, we went shopping. We had some time to kill, and checked out this neat design store (Which there seem to be quite a lot of here) that was too expensive for me to get anything, really. But again, it was cool to window-shop within it. Lots of cool things not quite cool enough to turn in to souvenirs or gifts. From there, we popped in to yet another metaphysical store! It’s like the universe wants me to be broke. This one was bigger, and had a wider, more tempting array of books and tarot decks- and lots of fancy jewelry. I resisted temptation as far as tarot and books went, but splurged a little bit on some crystals (they were cut so beautifully here, how could I nottttt). After the metaphysical store, we sort of split off to a couple of different places. I found this store that was basically nerdy heaven. It had merch for basically every nerdy thing you can think of- from things for cat lovers, anime merch, manga, world of Warcraft, Harry Potter, magic the gathering… the list goes on. The sad part? I spent so much time looking that I had no time to buy anything. This place was full of potential souvenirs and I was pulled away from it much too soon. This is because we were going to be running late to our next studio if we didn’t eat soon.

We took off, then, in search of a place to eat near our next destination, Massive Studios (a subset of Ubisoft). I was so excited. In the meantime, we found a Hawaiian Poke place that looked really good, and boy was it! I ordered this bowl with fresh, plump salmon, perfectly cooked black rice, edamame, chili mayo- and so many other yummy ingredients. I, unfortunately, had to chow down pretty quickly so as not to have to have leftovers later, but.. so good! Annoyingly, next to where we ate was an American-themed steakhouse blasting country music. So that ruined the good mood pretty quickly lol.

What ruined the good mood even more? We were not, in fact, dining just across the street from our destination. In actuality, we were easily a 15 minute walk away from Massive, with just about 12 minutes to make it before our 2PM appointment with them. So we booked it. And by we, I mean Beia, Tessa, and Alice. I, however, am literally falling apart at the seams from walking 5-8 miles per day and lagged behind the other three literally the entire walk. My speed walk was really more of a speed limp. I don’t know what’s been wrong- my feet, for the most part, have been feeling alright after the first few solid days of raging pain. Now, I have weird tingles shooting up my back every time I twist a certain way, and my leg near my bottom just gives me a sharp shooting muscle-level pain every time I shift my weight on my legs (for example, as one does when one walks). Anywho, we made it just on time, but suffice it to say I was not doing well after hobbling along in misery and wanted to do nothing more than to sit.

As we reached Massive’s office, we went through some doors and were met with a pretty fancy looking place. They handed out branded lanyards (That we didn’t even get to keep for some reason?) with our names on them, and immediately showed us… the place where they sit to eat, drink, and do work outside of their office. So, not even their workplace. Not to sound ungrateful, but it kinda gets worse. It was still cool, they had a neat statue with a list of gamertags. They were very hospitable, offering us coffee, tea, water. We then went to the conference room for a presentation, where waiting for us was some cool merch- notebooks, pens, pop sockets, and some chocolate. We sat in excitement for the presentation and what we were about to find out (we signed an NDA, mind you).. and, I don’t even know what the NDA was for, really. With UsTwo, I understand why we had to sign an NDA- they discussed with us some projects that haven’t been released yet. But… in this presentation, part of the slides were them not knowing the names of Ubisoft’s own games (come ON! As a huuuuuge Assassin’s Creed fan, I wanted to scream when they didn’t even know the name of the game when listing off games Ubisoft was responsible for), them discussing games they’re working on that have already been announced (And literally not giving us any other details- we didn’t learn anything about the design process, the creative environment, the production pipeline- nada, they just reiterated things that the public already knows), them showing us a promotional video about the country/workplace, and an entire 15 minutes of discussion about how to set up a resume. Again, what was the NDA for? I mean, if this blog is in violation of it somehow, I will gladly take this part out. But we really learned nothing about the creative process. The people talking to us were job recruiters. Don’t get me wrong, I am so grateful to even have stepped foot into the studio (After recovering from that walk. Ugh), but most of us left Massive pretty disappointed. I think this was the studio that everyone was most excited for, and it was the biggest letdown. I’m not exaggerating when I say, every time someone had a question about a specific aspect of the creative process (the 3D pipeline, job options, environmental design), they kind of fumbled and gave a non-answer, like “all of our job listings are posted online.” Somehow, it seems, the studios run by smaller, more passionate groups of employees or individuals were more inspiring and informational than the bigger, much more experienced studio.

After the Massive letdown, we shuffled our way back to the train to depart Sweden once more. Luckily, the rides back home seemed pretty straightforward……… in theory. Until we realized pretty quickly that the first train we had hopped on was the wrong one. So we crawled out, trekked up the stairs and over to the next track, and got on another train. It was going pretty swimmingly, looking like we would get back without issue… until the train kind of just.. stopped. Turns out, at the airport station, a broken luggage cart had wound up blocking the tracks. So, frustrated, we poured out of the train. We passed through the airport (which we’ll be back in in just a few days, weirdly enough), and hopped on the Metro train. Being the big whiny baby that I am, I was not happy about this turn of events. I was quite enjoying sitting down on the bigger, nicer trains with chairs and tables. The Metro is, basically, the Light Rail but with less seating. That meant that I had to stand for a good while, deeply in pain, and barely hanging on to the rails as I got tossed violently to and fro by the motions of the train. Ugh. By the time we reached our station, I was basically ready to pass out, and not too happy about having to go a little farther to get back home.

Needing to recharge, I plopped face down into my blankets. I sat there for a good while. We had made plans to work on journals and blogs in the park, but I really didn’t want to move. Eventually, time crawled on and we figured we should head over. But, again, I’m a crybaby and the park was literally just a couple steps outside of our BaseCamp, basically (just across a street). We leisurely strolled down the dirt path, found a spot, and enjoyed the clear skies, doing homework while sitting literally less than a mile away from a castle. It’s moments of lucidity like these where I stop and really appreciate that I’m in another country. If I wanted to go lay in a park in Denver, I would be harassed by police who think I’m homeless, or bugged by some passerby asking for a lighter. And I certainly wouldn’t be able to look over my shoulder to see lush trees and a big ol’ castle.

We sat and worked for a while, only wishing to leave because we were invited to check out a cool cafe by Dane and because it was actually deceivingly chilly, despite the sky being mostly clear. We quickly went back to the room, put our stuff away, and got ready to go somewhere called “Bastard Cafe.” Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to expect. When I think of a cafe, I think of, well, a cafe- a usually small place with a bar for treats/pastries and coffee/tea options. Well, as we soon found out, this place was very different. It was unlike anywhere I’ve ever been before! In total, the whole place was about 5 levels- with a basement, a main floor that spanned multiple rooms and across an entire courtyard, and three extra floors above for different kinds of events (one for foreign films, another for music, I forget what the other, still, was). Even better- alllllll over the walls was every single board game possibly imaginable. You’d walk from one room to another on the main floor, and the walls were just covered in them. At the bar (with food options like fries and nachos and some beverages- both alcoholic and non) one could go up, pay a small fee, and have access to any of the board games on the walls. After we all (Bryan, Riley, Alice, Tessa, Beia, Dane, and I) ordered drinks and food (I had a Mojito and some vinegar fries with truffle mayo), Dane asked for game suggestions. Back home, I used to play board games a whole lot with my friend, Sara, and the first that came to mind was a game called Secret Hitler. It’s a lot of fun in large groups, and, basically, works similarly to Among Us (there is, in fact, a secret Hitler whose task is to stay secret and sabotage the other team). We wound up playing, and, after a couple of rough runs, we really got into it. So much so that it wound up being the only game we played tonight! We really had a lot of fun and banter, teasing each other’s body language cues, peering right through poker faces, analyzing everyone’s moves. We got so into the game that we, for some reason, chanted Hitler and immediately remembered that that, in fact, is a very not okay thing to do in normal circumstances- but even less so okay to do anywhere in Europe. It’s funny- all of us that went are typically introverted, but around each other and with a good board game, we all really opened up and connected as people, rather than as introverts. I think this may have been the best time I’ve had on this trip, dare I say, better than (or equal to) my night out clubbing at Jolene! We had a lot of laughs, and I left feeling really good.

I really like it here. I know the day to leave is coming up before I know it, but I don’t want to go. I find myself wishing often to just be able to pause time on special little moments like these- even as I write this blog, there’s a sort of melancholy feeling about reflecting so deeply on these moments that pass by that I’m not always aware of. I think one of the things I’m saddest about is that, realistically, I won’t be friends with most of my trip mates for too much longer after the trip. Tessa, Beia, and Alice may be a different story, but, in my experience with things somewhat comparable to this (mostly the bonds I made at LYNX camp), the friendships sadly die out shortly after everything goes back to normal. I have to, thusly, remind myself that every person has their moment in my life- whether it be big or small- and that all connections I make in my time on this planet are equally meaningful. It’s hard not to think about going back home. But money runs out, and I can’t magically up and live here with everyone forever (besides, I would miss everyone back home way too much), so it’s a weird state of acceptance of the fleeting nature of events like these.

I don’t know, maybe I’m getting too philosophical about it.

[blficarchive]

‘Til I Tasted You by kiwikero

Additional Tags: #Famous Harry, #Non-Famous Louis, #Alternate Universe - College/UniversityMutual, #Pining, #Masturbation, #Strangers to Lovers, #Fluff

Summary: Louis is Harry Styles’ biggest fan. It doesn’t matter that Harry is famous for being a food blogger and Louis can’t cook to save his life.

At least, until Harry offers to give Louis a cooking lesson. Then it matters just a teensy bit.

You Strike A Match by togetherwecouldbealright

Additional Tags: #Alternate Universe - College/University, #Secret AdmirerFluff

Summary: I can’t remember the other 21 letters of the alphabet. All I know is U R A QT.

Louis stares at the note taped to the door of his dorm for a few seconds, uncomprehending. Either he’s seeing things or there’s actually a tiny piece of paper, addressed To: Louis with a terrible pick-up line on it.

OR the one where Louis receives a note from his secret admirer for every letter of the alphabet.

once upon a dream by thedeathchamber

Additional Tags: #Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, #Angst, #Slow Burn, #Enemies to Lovers, #Hurt/Comfort, #Emotional Hurt/Comfort, #Mental Health Issues, #Anal Sex, #Bottom Louis, #Blow Jobs, #Alternate Universe - Law Enforcement

Summary: Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.aka. the Medium/Criminal Minds-inspired AU no one ever asked for.

Apples Always Fall (As I Do For You) by rainbowsandgucci (petzawentz)

Additional Tags: #Background Relationships, #Fluff, #Angst, #Miscommunication, #Falling In Love, #Slow Burn, #Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, #Alternate Universe - Orchard, #Orchard AU, #apple orchard, #Daddy Kink, #References to Drugs, #Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, #Harry calls Louis princess a lot but like, #theres no like feminization or anything, #Oh also there is no cheating, #It might seem like there would be, #Bc of Harry/ZaynBut there is 0 cheating nope nope nope

Summary: ”Due to unforeseen circumstances, help is needed here at the orchard for the impending apple season. Looking for someone able to start within the next week or two at the most, is willing to do whatever miscellaneous tasks are needed, such as picking & packing apples, running the cash register, and other handywork that may need to be done. Must be good with customers, and able to lift up to 50lbs. Help will be needed until at the least the end of October. Please contact the number found on this page, or come out to the orchard and ask for Harry. All the love xx”

—

Louis is staying at his Aunt’s farm in a small town in Minnesota for four months. To deal with the boredom that sets in a week into his stay, he starts working at the local apple orchard, owned by twenty six year old Harry Styles.

Louis quickly finds himself falling in love with the orchard, and he finds a family in Harry’s friends Niall, Liam, and Zayn.

He also starts to fall in love with Harry.

Falling in love with him turns out to be the easy part.

Tell Me What You Want by stylinsoncity

Additional Tags: #Alternate Universe - College/University, #Beards (Relationships), #Pining, #Nudism

Summary: Based on the following prompt:

“Harry is looking for a new roommate after Liam moves in with his girlfriend. After a few bad dates he’s done with men for the moment and wants to concentrate on school. That’s why he’s looking for a female or a straight male roomie. When Niall tells Louis about the free room he leaves that little detail out. Louis, desperately looking for a room, pretends to be straight, thinking it would be easy, until he discovers that Harry likes to be naked at home. His best female friend posing as his girlfriend doesn’t work very well either.”

Sea Salt and Chocolate by cupcakeL

Additional Tags: #Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, #Baker Harry, #Strangers to Lovers, #Friends to Lovers, #Cheating, #but like the ex was cheating, #This is a fluff piece, #Singer Louis, #Pining Harry

Summary: “How can I help you?” He looked at the customer and wow, Harry was pretty sure this guy had the bluest eyes he had ever seen. When the guy opened his mouth Harry could almost feel the venom in his voice. “Do you have some kind of truffle that passive aggressively says ‘fuck you’?”Or Harry owns a confectionary/café and Louis is an aspiring musician who needs to break up with his boyfriend via truffles.

another hazy may by deLILAh

Additional Tags: #harry shoots guns better than he shoots footie, #and louis writes in the third person, #also starring niall’s snapback as the crown jewels, #zayn’s kardashian poster as the foundation of a friendship, #and liam payne as batman

Summary: louis is a terrible poet and harry lives in the now and they have six weeks to fall in love but, really, it only takes six seconds. bookshop meets military meets summer romance au ft. marlboros, the backstreet boys, and underrated literary devices.

Written In The Stars by alex4968

Additional Tags: #Slow Build, #Vampires, #Blood, #Mild Gore, #Human Louis, #Vampire Zayn, #Vampire Liam, #Vampire Harry, #Human Niall, #inequality within society, #Vampire AU, #Eventual Smut, #Top!Harry, #bottom!Louis,#Harry is kind of an asshole at first, #but I promise he gets better, #he’s just confused, #He was raised differently than Zayn was, #Dark Plot, #Explicit Sexual Content, #Spanking, #Rimming, #Hand Jobs, #harry has some… daddy vibes, #rape mention (doesn’t happen but tagging just in case)

Summary: It was so different - the complete opposite of everything Louis had ever expected about finally being placed into the real world. Zayn defied every single thing he’d ever been told about vampires, about how he was supposed to be treated. This was nothing like what he’d expected.[or: Zayn’s the third oldest vampire in the world and found himself searching out the company of a human, so he took Louis as his keep. His maker Harry doesn’t approve.]

Worth Dying For by Anonymous

Additional Tags: #Explicit Sexual Content, #Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, #Alternate Universe - Royalty, #Bodyguard, #kidnapping, #violence at the end

Summary: “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. In the center of the table, a set of three glossy photos stares up at him, mocking him.“A security detail is non-negotiable, Louis, you know this,” his mum reminds him, tapping the middle photo with two fingers.Louis doesn’t look back down at the pictures, gesturing towards them wildly, over-dramatically. “This is not a security detail!” he protests. “This is a lanky college student. In what world do you hire someone like this kid to protect me?”

The Fragmented Veil by missberrycake

Additional Tags: #Alternate Universe - Vampire, #Non-Graphic Violence, #vampire!Harry, #Vampire!Zayn, #vampire!niall, #Minor Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, #vampire!Louis, #Minor Character Death

Summary: In which Louis gets attacked one night in the dark. It changes his life, just not in the way he expected.

[vitabenedetta-blog]

Travel Eats

Good news! Traveling has been scientifically proven to increase happiness, decrease depression, and chill you the F out. While it is important to be grounded, traveling is a big part of finding out who you are and what environment fuels your inner fire. Plus, experiencing different cultures is invigorating AF. So for all of you that want to get out and explore the borders of this world, I have put together a travel eats guide to all the fabulous food from your home base and beyond. Enjoy! 

The Guide 

$: least expensive 

$$$: most expensive 

Apothik Food Truck $ 

La Crosse, WI 

Calling all Lax residents! Apothik Food Truck is a must try during the summer and fall seasons. The lovely humans behind the truck value: supporting local businesses and farmers while serving up delicious food! The menu changes each week to reflect seasonality and availability of different ingredients, so if you see something you like on the menu, make sure to get it while you can. You can find them at the Cameron’s Park farmer’s market, affordable and in walking distance for all you fellow college students.☺ 

My go-to: CHEESY MAC! 

5 Cheese Sauce, Diced Tasso Ham, Fresh Herbs, Crispy Crumble, Diced Bacon

  CINCO DE TACO 

Chipotle Chicken, Chopped Kale, Roasted Hot Sauce, Lime Cilantro Crème, Pineapple Pico De Gallo, Melted Pepper Jack, Corn Tortilla 

The Mint $$ 

La Crosse, WI 

Oh you fancy huh? The aesthetics at The Mint are on point. Everything from the furniture, to the glassware, and to the food is practically flawless. Toto, I don’t think we are in La Crosse, WI anymore. This is truly an experience you do not want to miss out on. Teaming with The Root Note, The Mint is a farm to table restaurant serving up all the local goods right to your plate. If you are on a budget, I highly recommend taking advantage of Sunday Craft Cocktail night. The craft cocktails are only $5 and appetizers are on sale. 

My go-to: CHARCUTERIE/CHEESE 

Chef’s Daily Selections, Pickles, Mustard, Bread

A LITTLE ROSY

Letherbee Gin, Grapefruit Crema, Grapefruit, Rosemary Syrup, Peychaud’s Bitters 

NAKED AND FAMOUS  

Vida Mezcal, Yellow Chartreuse, Aperitivo Select, Lime 

Howie’s On La Crosse $ 

La Crosse, WI 

A La Crosse classic (most likely right outside your door step). Howie’s has great grub, drinks, games, staff, and an awesome patio. If you have not been I am honestly concerned. Oh, and do I even need to mention the bloody mary bar. YUM! Happy Hour is the perfect time to put down your schoolwork and head over for some student deals. I mean we are only students for four years, so we might as well soak up the discounts while we can. You are bound to run into some of your classmates working at Howie’s and most likely some of your professors throwing one back at the bar. There are enough TV’s at Howie’s that you will never miss a second of your favorite games. 

My go-to: THE ALL AMERICAN 

Cheddar Cheese, Bacon, Lettuce, Tomato, Red Onion, Garlic Mayo, Sweet Potato Fries 

STRAWBERRY MARGARITA 

Ecker’s Apple Farm $ 

La Crosse, WI 

Because what is better than a caramel apple tossed in M&M’s? Ecker’s Apple Farm is stunning to say the least. Plan on spending the afternoon. With a beer garden, live music, apple picking, yard games, and plenty of grub you are not going to want to leave. Their mission is to bring you unique, quality craft beers from around the country and serve them up cold while you take in the view of the beautiful farm. I’M DOWN. It is a fall destination in La Crosse. 

My go-to: M&M CARAMEL APPLE 

APPLE PIE AND ICE CREAM 

Black Coffee and Waffle Bar $$ 

Minneapolis, MN

Did someone say waffles? These waffles are like no other. They are seriously FUNKY and out of this world. The interior of Black Coffee and Waffle Bar provides an awesome space for students to chillax and enjoy a drink and a waffle. I mean, what could be finer? Every month they introduce a new specialty waffle. I promise, the drive is worth the overpriced waffle and the Instagram picture that comes with it! 

My go-to: STRAWBERRY CHEESECAKE 

Cheesecake, Strawberries, Graham Crackers, Whipped Cream 

Hola Arepa $$ 

Saint Paul, MN 

Started from a food truck now we here. The vibes up in this joint will take you away on a Latin destination vacation. The specialty here: Venezuelan stuffed arepas! Arepas are made from cornmeal dough, formed into patties and cooked on a griddle. Then, they are stuffed with meats, veggies, cheeses, and topped with homemade salsas! Their mission is to make food from scratch with a whole lot of love. I recommend sitting on the patio in the sunshine! 

My go-to: FRIED BRUSSEL SPROUTS 

Tamarind Vinaigrette, Housemade Chorizo Sausage, Pepitas, Caramelized Onion Jam, Manchego, Radish 

CHIPOTLE CHICKEN AREPA 

Tomato, Sweet Corn Salsa, Citrus Onion, Radish, Arugula, Chipotle Aioli, Yuca Fries 

Pig Ate My Pizza $$ 

Robbinsdale, MN 

Besides like the cutest name for a pizza place ever, Pig Ate My Pizza was named one of the best pizza places in the US by Time and Food & Wine magazines! They are serving up rotating craft pizzas and over 16 local tap brews! The atmosphere is unexplainably awesome, so you will have to go check this one out yourself. Checkout their website for a little sneak peak (the marketing is phenomenal). 

My go-to: PIGGY PIE 

Deep Dish Meat Lovers! Brioche Crust, Pork Lovers Sausage, Pepperoni, Bacon Emulsion, Toasted Black Pepper Fennel, Oregano

Velvet Taco $ 

Chicago, IL

Let’s taco bout it people! In the heart of the windy city, Velvet Taco is a counter service setting, whipping up some of the most BOMB margaritas and tacos on this planet. With over twenty varieties of tacos, they will assure that you have never had a taco like this. At Velvet Taco, food is art. Let’s go, the flavors await. 

My go-to: FISH N’ CHIPS 

Curry Mayo, Malted French Fires, House Shred, Beer Battered Atlantic Cod, Pea Tendrils, Flour Tortilla 

BUFFALO CHICKEN 

Crisp Tenders, House Buffalo Sauce, Danish Bleu Cheese, Ranch Crema, Carrots, Micro Celery, Flour Tortilla 

Real Good Juice Co. $$$ 

Chicago, IL 

Itching for something a little healthier to cure your Sunday scaries? You have found the place. Real Good Juice Co. serves up good juices and smoothies that are organic and locally sourced. The juices are cold pressed which means they retain 100% of the enzymes, vitamins, and minerals. The company is a huge supporter of Chicago’s Old Town community and contributes a percentage of juice sales to local charities! They don’t stop at serving juice. They also sell bowls, a variety of toasts, salads, and shots. It’s a Win Win. 

My go-to: YUM YUM IN MY TUM TUM 

Banana, Cacao, Almond Butter, Almond Milk, Honey 

Firecakes Donuts $$

Chicago, IL

Hellzzz to the yeah! These donuts are on fire! Firecakes believes that everyone can use a sweet treat to get them through the day. With the craziest flavors, your taste buds will be wanting more. These donuts are fried in a large cast iron pot of oil over an open fire and sprinkled with all the sugar and goods one could ask for. They even have gluten free and vegan donuts! 

My go-to: DONUT ICE CREAM SANDWICH 

Summer House Santa Monica $$$ 

Chicago, IL 

An escape to the warmth and laid-back vibes of the West Coast. The atmosphere is beachy AF. They promise that no matter the season, no matter the weather, you will be transported to the warmth of California at Summer House. I felt like I was Serena van der Woodsen from Gossip Girl, no lie. If you have ever dreamed of your bridal shower, this is that dream. To be honest I barely paid attention to my meal, I was too caught up looking around at all the VIBES. 

My go-to: RICKY BOBBY 

Hank’s Vodka, Fresh Grapefruit Juice, Lime, Strawberry Air

San Giorgio Pizzeria $$ 

Milwaukee, WI 

Neapolitan pizza dough, made fresh in seconds, right before your eyes in a wood-fired oven! I have had a lot of pizza in my life, and this is by far my favorite. That is saying something people, you must go. The chef sits five feet in front of your table while throwing dough and firing up some incredible ZAA. Head Chef Gino Fazzari made this an unforgettable experience (he even bought my boyfriend and I special shots on the house). I would go back a million times. 

My go-to: MARIA CARMELLA 

San Marzano Tomato, Fresh Fior Di Latte Mozzarella, Prosciutto, Fresh Basil, Arugula, Extra Virgin Olive Oil 

Logan House Coffee Co. $ 

Denver, CO 

The vibes are too real people. This place is like an indoor farmer’s market. Make sure you give yourself enough time to really explore. The staff members are super DOPE and are jazzed about talking coffee with customers. 

My go-to: NUTELLA LATTE WITH ALMOND MILK 

Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory $ 

Vail, CO 

I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream! You will never want to get ice cream elsewhere after trying Rocky Mountain. This is mainly because of the cones. Have you ever seen something so beautiful? In the heart of Vail Village you will feel like the cutest snow bunny with one of these cones in hand and the mountains right above your head. If you are a chocoholic you NEED to check this out. 

Blue Moose Pizza $$ 

Vail, CO 

Want to eat pizza while looking out at the Vail Village Slopes? Yeah, me too. This was some of the most exotic pizza I have ever had. Flavor overload in the best way possible. If you go during off-season you won’t even have to wait for a table. 

My go-to: AUTUMN PIZZA 

Sautéed Mushrooms, Truffle Oil, Parsley, Parmesan, Garlic, Olive Oil, Mozzarella, Goat Cheese 

Finale

Now that your taste buds are basically exploding, it is time to get out and explore. Gas up your vehicle, book that plane ticket and Airbnb and be on your way. The flavors await! If you try any of my suggestions make sure to tag #vitabenedetta and let me know about the fabulous foods. 

Until next time. What are some of your favorite travel eats? Comment below.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Can I request 42 with Sternclay? I love the way you write everyone it’s adorable ((42. i found a cat shivering in the snow and you’re the cutest vet i’ve ever seen))

The snow morphs into sleet as Stern hurries down the street, the wind off the lake biting his neck. According to the directions he glanced at, the building he needs should be on this block.

“Mew” Says his pocket. 

“It’s alright, we’ll get you warmed up soon.”

The sign on the door of West Elm Veterinary declares they’re open until six. Relief shakes some of the damp from his shoulders, though the wind deposits another round before he manages to get inside. 

“Hello, how can I help you?” The young, blonde woman behind the counter looks him over, “I'm gonna guess this is an emergency?”

“In a way, yes. I, I found a kitten on my way home and it seems to be in very bad shape. I’m so sorry I don’t have an appointment, but this was the vet closest to home.”

“That’s okay, we don’t have any remaining appointments today, and I feel safe saying we’d rather you bring someone in than we get to go home a bit early. Let me go grab Dr. Cobb.”

“Thank you so much.” He does his best to smile through his exhaustion and cold as she ducks into a back room. The office is small, and he sees on two vets listed: Dr. Cobb and Dr. Newton. But it’s warm and clean, walls decorated with pet medicine advertisements and PSAs, two shelves on the far wall holding special diet pet foods. 

The wall behind the reception desk is lined with thank you cards and photos, and as Stern peers at them his pocket meows once again, the noise weaker than before. 

“Shhh” he pulls his jacket closer, hoping to pass on more body warmth, “it’s alright, the vet will be here soon.”

“He will indeed.” 

Stern looks at the now-open exam room door. Leaning against it is one of the most handsome men he’s ever seen. He’s tall, looks like he could bench press Stern, with a short-clipped, coppery beard and shaggy dark hair that he’s gathered into a bun. The warm brown eyes and the reassuring smile are just the icing on the beefcake.

“Kitten?”

“Excuse me?” Sterns voice creeps up. No one’s called him that in years.

“You’re the one who brought in the kitten, right?” Dr.Cobb repeats, patient as can be. 

“Oh, yes. She’s in my jacket. I didn’t have anywhere else to keep her.”

“Good call. Let’s bring her in here and have a look.” 

Stern follows him into the exam room, and gingerly lifts the kitten from his pocket. She looks impossibly scraggly in the bright light. Her eyes are crusted over and she shivers in Sterns hands. 

Dr.Cobb holds out his palms, and they’re large enough that the kitten nearly fits in one of them. 

“Hey, little one.” He sets her down on the metallic table, begins checking her vitals, “what happened to you, huh?” 

God, his voice is deep and comforting and if it’s affecting the feline the way it’s affecting Stern, the cat will be better in no time. 

“Where was she when you found her?”

“Behind a dumpster at the EL station. I looked to see if there was a mother nearby, or other kittens, but I couldn’t find them. And honestly, based on how thin and dirty she looked I assumed she’d been on her own a bit.”

“Think you’re probably right. She’s malnourished for sure, and dehydrated, if you can believe it given how wet it’s been. Got an eye infection, hopefully that’s all the illness she’s dealing with.” The vet rubs the kittens forehead and she lets out an unsteady “mewp.”

“We’ll keep her overnight, get some fluids in her, and go from there. Do you want us to contact you with an update?” 

“Yes please.” Stern rattles of his name and phone number and Dr.Cobb jots them down.

“Thanks, hopefully we have good news tomorrow. Dani can help you wrap up out front.”

Just as Stern finishes paying (in spite of Dani saying they have a pool of funds for caring for strays. After all, what good is his job if he can’t use the money to care for helpless animals), a tender baritone voice calls out, “Joseph, hold on a sec.” 

He turns, finds the vet holding out a an umbrella and a travel mug smelling faintly of mint.

“For the road.” He smiles.

“Thank you, uh...”

“Barclay.” The vet supplies.

Stern takes the offered items, “Thank you, Barclay. I’ll keep an ear out for the updates.”

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

His phone rings at lunch, as he’s eating a reheated sandwich.

“Stern.”

“Hi Mr. Stern, this is Dani at West Elm Vet. I’ve got some good news about the kitten. She’s stable and eating, and we got fluids into her. Her eyes are still a little wonky, but she’s already getting some energy back.”

“That’s wonderful. Uh, would it be alright if I came by to see her this evening?”

He hears the smile on the other end, “Of course.”

When arrives at the vet, he brings the washed travel mug, the umbrella, and a small box of gourmet truffles.

“Here to see the kitten.” 

Barclay grins at him across the counter. 

“Yes. And I wanted to return these. The truffles are a thank you to you all for your help.” 

“Ooh, love their stuff.” Barclay eyes the chocolate box. 

“Barclay I swear if you eat it all before I get any-” Dani appears from a back room, returning to her post at the computer. 

“I know, I know, you’ll let that one chihuahua loose in my office.” Barclay hands her the box, gestures for Stern to follow him. They head down a small hallway to a little boarding space for cats. The kitten, clean and and snoozing in the warmth, looks like a sandy brown, tiny tumbleweed.

“I hadn’t realized how big her paws are.” Stern pets the glass softly,not wanting to wake the feline. 

“She might grow into them, or they might stay big compared to her. I’m a little worried about her eyes; if that infection doesn’t clear up, she could lose one, maybe both.”

“Oh dear.” Stern murmurs, tracing an ear through the glass, “that hardly seems fair, does it? It’s not your fault, little cat. If I’d found you sooner maybe…” He sighs.

“Hey, none of that.” A warm hand rests on his shoulder, “she’s probably alive right now because of you. And she’s a tough little thing, she’ll manage.”

Without thinking, Stern rests his hand atop Barclays, “thank you.” 

The hand squeezes his quickly, and then it’s gone.

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

Stern’s routine changes over the next weeks. Once, and usually twice, per week he visits the vet to check on the kitten and her caretakers. He starts bringing a late afternoon pick-me up for Dani from the local coffee shop, and whatever gourmet candy or snack he thinks Barclay might like.  If it’s slow, Barclay will make him tea and the two of them will chat while he fusses over the kitten. She grows stronger, looks less like she’s been run through a washing machine, but her infection claims her right eye. 

Stern still thinks she’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

Well, second cutest. But it’s hard for anyone or anything to compete with Barclay. Especially when he laughs or sends a wink Sterns way. 

Stern starts bringing toys for the kitten, catnip fish for her to hold between her large paws, jingly plastic spheres to help her practice hunting and chasing with one eye. When she’s finally old enough and well enough to be put up for adoption, Stern helps take the photos to go up on the Humane Society page. 

Three days later, he’s ready to take a chance. And as luck would have it, Barclay is at the front desk alone when he walks in.

“Hey, Joseph.”

“Hello. I’m here to check on my little friend. And, ah, to ask if you would like to go to dinner with me tomorrow.”

Barclay stands, starts walking around the counter with a funny smile, “you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“Bad.” 

“She got adopted this morning, so that stuffed hedgehog in your coat might not get much use.”

“Oh that’s, that’s wonderful!” He means it, he really does. He just wishes he could have scritched her ears one more time.

“But the good news” Barclay rests one on his shoulder while the other brushes a strand of hair back into place, “is that you and I have a date on Friday.” 

Stern beams, even as Dani’s voice comes from the back room, “I TOLD you he was into you!”

Dinner the next night is perfect. Stern’s never seen Barclay in anything other than work clothes, and nearly walks into a pole when he catches the first glimpse of the other man waiting at the crosswalk in his jacket and slacks. 

They talk easily, Barclays rumbling laugh filling the plush restaurant booth and sending sparks up Sterns fingers. To his surprise, Barclay asks if he’d like to come back to his place for “coffee”. He eagerly accepts, even if the meal and the company has him feeling sluggish and dreamy. 

“So” Barclay flips on the light, revealing a modest apartment that looks like a north woods cabin was dumped inside it, “this is my place. Figure we can start out with coffee on the couch and then” he blushes for the first time that night, “see how things go. But first, let me introduce you to my roommate.”

“Roommate?” 

“Mew!”

Stern makes a somewhat higher than normal shriek of delight as a familiar, one-eyed ball of fluff barrels into his legs, purring happily as he scoops her up and cuddles her. 

“I was due to adopt one of the strays eventually. Bigfoot here turned out to be the one.” He bats at the cats still-oversized paws,  scratches the her head as he nuzzles the top of Sterns hair.

“It wasn’t a ploy to get me to come over?” Stern teases. 

Barclay chuckles, “That did cross my mind. Call it a bonus piece of good luck.”

Stern ends his night wonderfully. He spends the first hour happily and handsily making out with Barclay on the couch while Bigfoot gnaws and chases her new stuffed hedgehog. And then he and Barclay fall asleep, cuddled up beneath a heavy knit blanket, with Bigfoot nestled between them. 

[crazyblondelife]

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

Have my words seemed a little forced lately? Can you force joy?  Maybe you've noticed, but I've been trying desperately to get out of a funk.  You get out of a lemon what's in a lemon and it's not sweet!  I'm going to be honest...the funk is not gone yet, but here's a go at what's on my mind.

Day to day, that's the only to live your life!  That's not to say that you shouldn't have goals or have a code of morality that you live by, but as important as those things are, you just cannot ever predict what's going to happen.  Best laid plans is, I believe, how the saying goes!  I do believe that everything happens for a reason and I do believe in the Law of Attraction.  The Law of Attraction states that we attract everything...the good, the bad and the ugly.  You might say, and I do to - "I would never want to attract anything bad into my life", but you attract by the thoughts you think.  I will admit that lately, I've tried my best to change my thoughts, to manipulate what my mind is sending out and how I'm feeling, but I've been doing a pretty crappy job.  I've been attracting lots of totally unwanted things.  Contrast is supposed to be good because it gives perspective.  When we know what we don't want, we know more about what we do want.  I'm getting pretty certain about what I don't want in my life, but instead of talking about what I don't want, let me just talk for a few minutes about what I do want, because the Universe has completely shown me what I don't want and I GET IT!

I want friends who love me for who I am and I want to love them back for who they are...I don't want to buy my friendships and I don't want friendships (or relationships for that matter) based on anything but honesty and love.

I know that I am a trustworthy person...I truly want everyone to be happy!  I do realize that I am not responsible for other people's happiness, no matter who they are or what they want.  Even if I do feel responsible, it makes no difference because we ALL choose our own happiness.

I want to remember everyday that WHAT ANYONE ELSE THINKS OF ME IS NONE OF MY BUSINESS!  This is so important and worrying constantly about what everyone else thinks only makes you miserable.  Everyone, for the most part, maybe except for Jesus and Buddha and a few other exceptions like Mother Theresa), are in it for themselves and the crazy thing about that is that IT'S OK TO BE IN IT FOR YOURSELF.  I've said it before...if everyone did the things that TRULY MADE THEM HAPPY, the world would be a different and much better place.  We all spend far too much time worrying if we've done the right thing and what will people think!  It is really ridiculous!

I want to enjoy the sunshine, eat the good food, make the money (who doesn't because money is freedom), dance in the rain, drink the wine, BUY THE SHOES.  You and I and everyone else are entitled to happiness.  Entitled is a tricky word, but I believe that the Universe put us here to advance humanity.  We simply can't go backward...only forward.  It might feel like two steps back and one step forward, but we are really only evolving.  More and more people everyday are interrupting that crazy record that goes on in their heads and figuring out a different way to think.  I'm going to keep learning (and going to therapy) and striving to play new songs and learn new dances.  There will be setbacks but I will learn from them.

Authenticity...that's the buzzword of the decade.  It is a good word, but figuring out who you really are in this age of social media and magazine perfect airbrush pictures is sometimes hard.  It takes silence and meditation and contemplation and trial and error to really learn what your authenticity is!  I think it also takes a lifetime. Ha, something else to do...figure out who you are?! 

Everything that we want is at our finger tips, we just are too blinded by our own crazy minds to see it.  Yes, even that new car or beach house or whatever other material thing you might be wanting.  There is nothing wrong with wanting a good life filled with beautiful things.  Just don't be an ass...be appreciative, be humble, be kind and most of all love yourself. It makes it oh so much easier to love others when you love yourself!

I want to laugh until my face hurts with friends, drink champagne and eat truffle fries (definitely what I would choose for my last meal), climb to the top of the Eiffel Tower, have interesting conversations that last into the wee hours of the night, and sometimes just sit on my front porch and read a book in my pajamas.  Yes, there are responsibilities in life, those things we have to do, but finding joy in the everyday and bringing that joy into the tasks that may not be our favorite is what makes life ok. 

I want to dedicate this post to my friends who have loved me through thick and thin and who don't care how much money I have, or how smart I am or where I live.  The people who love me for my heart.  You know who you are and you make life worth living.

Oh my gosh...I feel so much better...for now.  These are things that I believe with all my heart.  I am not a fraud because I talk about these things constantly and I'm not always able to live them!.  We all know things that we should do that we don't and we all make mistakes...that's the nature of humanity.  We are not doomed for destruction, we should be expecting happiness and joy and good food and love and all the things...All of the things that bring us joy!

It might be a little out there for some of you, but I love to listen to Abraham Hicks (Esther Hicks)...if you get it, you get it, however, it has really put things into perspective for me.  Once you understand that your life is supposed to be joyful, then, when it's not, it's twice as bad because you know better!  I think that might be called awakening.  Anyway, here's a quote that might help.

YOUR WORK IS TO GO FORTH INTO THIS PHYSICAL ENVIRONMENT LOOKING FOR THINGS THAT ARE A VIBRATIONAL MATCH TO JOY, CONNECTING TO SOURCE ENERGY (GOD), AND THEN FOLLOWING WITH THE INSPIRED ACTION.

Translation:  do what the heck makes you happy...at least something every day!  Inspired action isn't forcing anything, instead it's letting the Universe guide you to where your dreams are.

How are you feeling?  Is life challenging, or are you riding the wave right now?  I would love to know!!

[hannah-deserved-better]

Angel’s Day Out Ch.3

When they arrived at the restaurant, Hannah gazed around at the quiet neighborhood lined with simple brick buildings. Finely dressed men and women wandered the streets around them. Hannah glanced at Castiel as he parked the car and met her gaze.

 “Are you sure we should be clothed so… strangely?” she asked. They’d taken the time to change into clothing that had been approved by the Winchesters. In fact, according to Castiel, their entire excursion had been planned by the brothers.

 “Yes,” Castiel said as he got out of the car and moved around to open the passenger door for her. “I don’t quite understand it either, but Dean informed me that we would not be allowed entry to this restaurant if we were dressed like douchebags, as he called it. He said we had to look sharp.”

 Hannah felt confused. “Sharp?” she repeated. “Like a blade?” She looked down at herself. She wore a slimming black dress with a short hemline, square neckline, and thin spaghetti straps crisscrossing her bare back. Her hair was pulled back from her shoulders, spilling in wavy tresses against her back. She wore a light blue pendant that Sam had said brought out her eyes.

 Castiel offered her his hand and, hesitantly, she took it, and he hoisted her to her feet. “Do I look sharp then? Sam Winchester claimed this was appropriate.” Castiel looked at what she wore, his eyes studying her slim form closely.

 “Yes,” he responded. She felt her cheeks turn a little warm as she took in his appearance. He wore a dark navy blue tuxedo with coat and white dress shirt. His appearance certainly made her vessel flush slightly; she didn’t quite understand this sort of reaction. “You look smashing.”

 Hannah hoped that smashing was a good thing. But when she tried to walk in the uncomfortable high heels Sam told her to wear, she stumbled forward, losing her balance. Castiel was there, quickly catching her by the arms before she collided into him, and held her steady. “Are you alright?” he questioned.

 “These shoes,” she glanced down at her feet, at the black high heels she wore, and how her feet screamed with discomfort at being in them. “I don’t see how they are appropriate.”

 Castiel glanced around at the people moving back and forth around them. He pointed out a woman in a flashy red skirt and six-inch pumps. Hannah felt a little better about her appearance. She felt as though this black gown hardly contained her form, but at least it wasn’t that revealing.

 “Come on,” Castiel grasped her hand and let her lean slightly against him as they walked to the restaurant. Hannah still struggled with the shoes and felt a little embarrassed as she enlisted the look of a few humans standing in the waiting lounge as she and Castiel approached the hostess podium.

 “Welcome to the finest Kansas City Steakhouse in town,” the hostess greeted as she looked the two of them over. “Well aren’t you two a pair of perfect cherubs.” Castiel and Hannah exchanged glances with one another.

 “Yes, we are angels,” Castiel pointed out as a matter of factly. “But I don’t understand how you could have known that simply based on our appearance. You cannot see our true form.”

 “Oh… just a figure of speech, Handsome,” the hostess said, winking coyly at Castiel. “Do you have a reservation?”

 Castiel nodded. “Yes, I have a reservation under Dean Winchester.” The hostess checked her computer and pulled out a few menus.

 “Ah there you are, Mr. Winchester, I’m glad you called ahead, we have your table and your entire menu selection all ready for you.”

 Castiel raised a brow and looked at Hannah who shrugged. He leaned over to her to whisper. “Now I know what Dean was doing in the other room before we left,” he said. Hannah felt a little nervous. She didn’t entirely trust Dean and knowing he’d apparently set this whole event up made her even more anxious about what could be in store for them.

 The two of them followed the hostess through the dimly lit dining room, and Hannah glanced around the restaurant curiously. People stuffed into booths lined the room, talking, taking little note of them. Paintings of prominent Kansas City residents and of scenery decorated the walls. Jazz music played. As they passed by the bar lounge area, Hannah was fascinated with the bottles and glasses lining the wall behind the bar.

 When they approached their booth, it was decorated with a white satin tablecloth, set up with proper plates and utensils, and upon closer inspection, Hannah noted a long-stemmed red rose laying in front of the antique lamp at the far end of the table, just under the large oil painting of the Missouri River hanging on the wall.

 Hannah plucked the rose from the table as she slid into the booth, Castiel sitting down across the table from her. She looked it over curiously, inhaling its pleasant floral scent. When she glanced to Castiel for an explanation, he only shrugged. “Dean,” he said simply.

The hostess left them and was immediately replaced by a pretty brunette waitress whose name tag read: Dina.

 “How are we doing this lovely evening?” Dina asked as she placed water glasses in front of each of them. She glanced at Castiel. “You’re Dean Winchester, correct?”

 “No,” Castiel corrected, he tried to think of an explanation. “He’s uh… my brother. He arranged this meal for us.”

 “Oh well aren’t you two in for a surprise then,” the waitress pulled over a tray and placed champagne ice bucket onto their table. “He’s arranged the full tour of our fine establishment. First, we have some champagne on ice, followed by a couple of dishes to share. Our delicious crab cakes, some parmesan truffle fries, and lobster mac and cheese. Then, we have a dry aged Kansas City rubbed porterhouse on a bed of wild rice with sauteed spinach and a baked potato. And for the lovely lady here, we have a roasted citrus salmon over polenta and creamed spinach and sauteed wild mushrooms. And then for dessert, we have some strawberry sorbet for the both of you.”

 The waitress glanced between the two of them and smirked. “You two are as thin as rails, you sure you can finish all that food?”

 “Yes,” Hannah said confidently, glancing up at the waitress. “We are ang-”

 “We’re very hungry,” Castiel blurted out before she could finish her sentence. The waitress smiled.

 Hannah gasped as the waitress popped the cork, the noise startling her, as did the eruption of fizzing champagne that burst from the bottle. The waitress expertly poured them their glasses and then hurried away.

 Hannah focused her attention on Castiel, who gave her a small smile. “What have you observed of humans so far?” he asked her.

 Hannah glanced down at the rose she held in her hand, running her finger over the stem and the petals, feeling the softness sensations of touch as she thought. “They place a lot of value on these… sensations,” she responded. “Senses. The way we are dressed, how we appear. The sound of the piano… the touch of a rose. These smells around me…”

 “Humans use their senses to process the world around them,” Castiel explained. “How do these senses make you feel, Hannah?”

 Hannah thought about that question. As she did, the waitress brought the first of their food. Crab cakes and fries. She took a fry and ate it cautiously and watched Castiel do the same. As she chewed, she contemplated the tastes. “I like this,” she said. She thought back to how she’d felt as she’d taken in Castiel’s appearance in his suit and the way she’d felt a little flushed when she noticed his eyes on her. She’d felt encouraged by his attention. She liked the way the rose felt, the way her mouth watered at the smell of food, and the crunch and salty taste of the fries and crab cakes.

 “I like the way these senses make my vessel feel,” she told Castiel. As curious as she was about the world around her, she also liked that Castiel was here with her. She realized that his presence was probably the most essential part of the way she felt. She wasn’t quite sure how to tell him this. Somehow, it didn’t quite feel right to voice these thoughts. She didn’t understand how to put words to what she felt. She only knew that she didn’t want the evening to end.

 And it was long-lasting. With each new dish their waitress brought them, she was given a chance to experience something new. New tastes, new smells. And even though this was all new to her, somewhere, deep inside her, Caroline felt them too and assured her that they were right things to feel. After all, they were Caroline’s emotions, her senses, which guided her.

 All through dinner, she kept the rose on her lap, it seemed wrong to part with it somehow. She watched Castiel intensely as he ate his meal. She followed his lead on how to eat certain things, though Caroline nudged her in the right direction too.

 The dinner did have to end eventually, and after Castiel paid for the meal on one of Dean’s fraudulent credit cards, the two of them made their way back to the car and as Hannah sat in the passenger seat, watching as Castiel pumped gas, preparing for their journey west, she suddenly felt closer to him than she thought was possible before. She clutched her rose as he perched on the hood of the car outside, waiting for the gas pump to finish, she felt an overwhelming sensation of anticipation for the next few days. She was excited to explore the world with him, to see what he wanted to show her, to let him guide her through this strange planet.

When he got back into the car, he glanced across the space between them to meet her gaze. “How was that?” he asked, concern for her answer in his eyes as he observed her expression. “The whole evening. Even the uncomfortable shoes.”

“I liked it,” she admitted softly. “Castiel… I hadn’t realized.”

“Realized what?”

“I didn’t see how there could be any wisdom to be gained by humans. So much of the way they act confuses me. They don’t understand what it’s like to be angels, but… I’m starting to realize what you see in them.”

Castiel smiled wholeheartedly, relief in his eyes. “I’m glad,” he said. “And there is much more to come.”

And with that, the two angels headed west.

[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 39

I dumped my bag and the baked goods on the counter, then leaned back against it.

“He never joins your family for the holidays? But this year…he IS? Did someone tell him that you all know what he did? What the actual fuck, man?”

He shook his head. “Em and Sarah insist they haven’t said a word, and I sure as hell haven’t, and I don’t think Mum has…so we’re all completely blown out of the water by this. He called Mum earlier and essentially said ‘I’ve decided to join you Thursday and Friday’ and that was that. After the divorce, he showed up two years running, but once Em was ten he decided that his presence was no longer necessary because Christmas was for children and surely she’d grown past such foolishness by then. He never even bothered to show up last year, when Sarah and Ansh were finally able to join us at Christmas for the first time since having Saachi.”

I crossed my arms. “So, he doesn’t turn up for a first Christmas with his only grandchild but this year, he does? Is it because she’s a little older, maybe? Eh, that sounds ridiculous so I’ll say that is totally not the reason. What’s your take on this? Any ideas?”

His gaze fell to the floor, then returned to my face. I didn’t wait for him to speak.

“Oh for fuck’s sake you think it’s me, don’t you?” My arms uncrossed, one hand rising to my forehead and resting there, palm down. “But WHY? Why does he give even the remotest shit about you and I, if he hasn’t cared about anything else…OH MY FUCKING GOD, IT IS ME, isn’t it? Jesus…listen, babe, if you want me to sit this one out…”

Closing the distance between us, he took me in his arms, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Not. A. Chance. If you don’t feel comfortable going, I’m staying right here with you.” He leaned back, staring into my eyes. “And yes, I do think it’s related to you in some way. I just can’t quite figure out how or why.”

“Is that what your mother thinks? Is that who you were talking to?”

His head shook again. “No, that’s not what she thinks…I was talking to her and my sisters on a conference call. None of them know what to think. They’re just trying to figure out how to flow with it and not let it ruin the holiday. Which is a challenge and a half, after this past summer.”

I released him and grabbed the bakery bag from behind me. “Let’s have some cookies and put on our thinking caps and try and puzzle this out.”

A dozen over-sized chocolate chip delights and an hour later, we were no closer to solving the equation, likely because, as Tony Stark explained in the Avengers, we didn’t have all the variables.

Tom’s head was in his hands, elbows on the dining table amongst the crumby mess we’d made, and he spoke without looking up. “Bottom line is no matter what the man throws at you, IF he throws anything at you, that is…I know you can handle it, Maude. You on your weakest day is a thousand times more powerful than him on his strongest.”

As he glanced through his fingers at me, across the table, I raised a brow. “Uh, a thousand? Hyperbolize much, Tom?”

He sat up, smiling. “I do not. You simply underestimate your strength, my love.”

I rolled my eyes. “Puh-leaze. Stop it. Honestly, it’s all totally confusing and makes no sense and I’m slamming myself up against a logic wall at this point. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Which, as you know, fucking drives me bat crap crazy so…feel like going out for some burgers and wrapping supplies?”

Standing, he stretched, arms up toward the ceiling, his lower belly and happy trail peeking at me yet again. It was a view I would never tire of, for sure. When my eyes made their way up to his face, he was grinning. Caught, I was…red handed. Eyed? Something.

“That sounds perfect, actually. I’ll go put some pants on.”

I bit my lip. “Good. You do that. I’m going to use the facilities.” His mouth opened, but I cut him off. “I’m PEEING. Nothing else, you bastard. I am capable of restraint, you know.” A chuckle. “Oh, MAN…”

He jogged up the stairs, and shortly thereafter we were out the door and on our way.

****************************************

My alarm went off at six AM on Wednesday, and I left Tom all warm and naked in our bed to grab a cheese danish and a cup of tea before heading downstairs. I’d wrapped my gifts for him last night, having locked myself in the over-crowded spare room. At points I could hear him breathing heavily outside the door, and knew he was doing it on purpose to distract me in hopes of getting a look at what I’d gotten for him. He gave up after three attempts, and I was able to continue in peace. Diana had come to my aid, providing me with a list of all she could recall of the Jurassic Park toys Tom had played with as a child. One by one I’d tracked them down on eBay and had them sent to the office, and Simon had hidden them for me in our flat while we’d been gone. I’d even managed to score the rare Electronic T-Rex, Jungle Explorer Vehicle and the Command Compound, new and sealed in their boxes. The action figures weren’t quite as hard to find, and I’d gotten a set that included five of the main characters still in their original packaging. In addition to those, as a sort of gag-but-not-really gift, I’d found a very cool strap-on set that included six dildos, sized from kinda small to bigger than Tom’s own cock. THAT one I put off to the side so I wouldn’t accidentally bring it with us to Diana’s house…plus, I was hoping he would want to try it out, like, immediately after opening it. Part of me wanted to save it for Loki’s next visit, but I’d been thinking about it for months, and he’d mentioned it several times, so, no time like the present, right? The pièce de résistance was obtained via the most convoluted network of human beings I’d ever had to wrangle, a daisy chain that included Stephen Spielberg which had started with me and ended with Harrison Ford writing a letter and signing one of the fedoras he’d worn in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. The only downside was that I was aware that it was likely a feat I would never, ever be able to top.

The shipment arrived as scheduled, eight AM on the dot, and the driver even schlepped it all downstairs for us. Everything had been prepped and ready to go, so Trudy and I set about getting all the servers in place so they’d be ready to connect once the utility company was done installing the T1 line…they’d turned up just after we’d opened the cartons. Everyone else was off for the day, so we cranked some tunes while we set up the network itself and installed all the software. As soon as our internet was accessible, we updated the newly-installed software, then began adding our own. Trudy and I had written the client management program together, though the base code was hers alone. It had functioned perfectly during previous testing, so we focused mainly on it running cross network and left it at that. Tom brought us lunch at around two, and after our break we dove into external DNS access, connectivity and security protocols. It was the most time-consuming and intricate part of the process, but by midnight we had a functional, locked down system that was ready for intensive testing, which was set to begin first thing Monday morning. From the look on Trudy’s face, though, I was reasonably sure that she’d be at it over the weekend if she got the chance. The only other remaining obstacle, other than testing, was the installation of security devices and alarms, and the company providing us with those was scheduled to come in on Tuesday. We celebrated our victory by inhaling an entire bag of truffles, high fiving each other and bragging about how we’d accomplished in a single day what Mark hadn’t been able to achieve in months. It was just after one AM when I dragged myself upstairs, then up the flat’s steps, stripped, and crawled in next to a slumbering Tom…and I would have thought he’d remained there for the entire day if it weren’t for the fact that he’d brought Trudy and I lunch.

Thursday afternoon found us on the road, quickly nearing Oxford, gifts tucked into the trunk of the Jaguar, our season’s greetings having been exchanged with Luke and Simon right before we’d left. They were spending the holiday with Luke’s parents, and Roland would be joining them for Boxing Day. U2 performing Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) was on the radio, and I was watching Tom’s hands as he manipulated the steering wheel. An elegant man guiding an elegant machine. The brief feeling of positivity about the holiday I’d experienced on Tuesday had faded after the whole ‘dad’s coming’ thing, and I really, really felt like asking him to turn around so we could go back home and have our own private, peaceful Christmas….but I knew he’d say yes, and I didn’t want to be the one responsible for him missing out on time with his family, which, in spite of all the insanity, had always been precious to him, even more so since he’d started travelling for his career.

He turned to me, smiling. “All set for your first holiday with the future in-laws?”

“Sure. Yep. You betcha.”

His right hand left the wheel and pressed gently into my thigh. “I’m sorry it’s gone a bit off the rails, my love.”

I snorted. “When we write our joint biography, that’s SO going to be the title.”

“Oh, I like that. Fitting.”

“Unlike this damn bra.” I reached down the V-neck of my blood-red sweater and shifted my boobs back into place. The color was the closest I could force myself to come to being festively dressed, whereas Tom was wearing a bright green monstrosity that his mother had given him last Christmas. Apparently, that was her thing…new holiday sweaters for everyone each year. Shaking my head, I reminded myself to be grateful that it wasn’t one of the infamous UGLY Christmas style sweaters, and also that I needed to say a hearty thank you and pretend to like the one that was surely lying in wait for me to open tomorrow. I heard a car horn honk, and realized that Tom had drifted off to the side of the road because he was staring at my tits. “Dude. Eyes on the road. EYES ON THE ROAD.”

“I know, I know. Sorry. But surely you can’t expect me to look away when you’re fiddling with them so artistically and they’re shifting around with such buoyance like…like…”

“Like, boobs?”

He nodded. “Yes. Boobs. Do shut up now, Maude. Safety first, you know.”

“Oh, safety…speaking of, you know this seat belt really rubs against them something fierce…”

“Behave, lest Father Christmas decides you belong on the naughty list after all.”

I sighed in mock exasperation. “You are really, really mean, you know? But let’s be real, I’ve GOT to be on that naughty list already because what I bought YOU is…”

“NO SPOILERS. WE AGREED NO SPOILERS.”

“But it’s…”

“My lord, woman, NO. NO NO NO NO NO.”

I chuckled, then reached over to rest my hand on the nape of his neck, rubbing gently with my thumb. “No spoilers, babe. I promise.” He moaned quietly as I pressed harder. “How are you coping with this? It’s all strange and new for me, but you’re used to it being a certain way. You okay?”

His right hand returned to my thigh as he turned onto the street that would take us to his childhood home. “You’re right, I am accustomed to the holidays being as they’ve always been since he stopped coming, and if I’m honest, it’s been vastly better that way. But it is what it is, and I’m just going to focus on the fact that it’s our first Christmas together and…well…fuck everything else.”

“Fuck everything else. Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

He grinned, rotating the wheel to the right as he pulled into the driveway, two other cars already neatly parked in front of the garage. “No, you couldn’t have…because it’s essentially the exact phrasing you would have chosen, is it not?”

“You are correct, sir. Did you perchance buy me a thesaurus for Christmas so I can expand my vocabulary?”

He put the car in park, leaned over and bit my neck. “I did no such thing. I happen to both admire and adore your vocabulary. Especially your habitual overuse of things like ‘oh yes’ and ‘oh god’ and ‘fuck me’.”

I bit my bottom lip and smiled, left brow raised. “I love you, you ridiculously horny dork.”

He laughed and pinched my cheek. “Lobbing that right back at you.”

We were grabbing our first load of stuff from the trunk when the yelling started. It was faint at first, and high pitched, and then I saw an adorable tiny human running towards us.

“Uncle Tommy! Happy Christmas! Happy Christmas!”

She was gorgeous, big dark eyes, dark brown hair, two shoulder-length braids bouncing and flying out behind her as she drew closer. I knew she was four, and thought she was probably of average height for that age, but in truth I had no fucking idea because children were like creatures from another planet to me. The way Tom squatted down to catch her in his arms then lifted her up, first spinning her, then popping her onto his shoulders and running a few laps around the driveway as he screamed ‘yay’ right along with her made my heart melt, and when I imagined him doing the same thing with our own child, I found it hard to breathe. Tom ran back to me, Saachi still on his shoulders, both of them grinning like fools. An unfamiliar voice caused me to inhale sharply, and I saw a woman approaching us quickly. She was about my height, though I was wearing my Diva Darcies so that stacked the deck a bit, slender, bearing a strong resemblance to Tom but with a different nose, a good amount of visible freckles across her cheeks and strawberry-blonde hair. I’d only seen her in pictures until this moment, and her hair had been much longer, down to her waist, as opposed to the chin-length bob she was sporting was now…but there was no doubt it was Sarah.

“Saachi, what did we decide? We decided that we’d wait for Uncle Tom and Aunt Maude to come INSIDE before throwing ourselves at them, did we not?”

Aunt Maude. Not helping with the breathing difficulties. Sarah strode toward me first, arms wide open, wrapping me in a snug embrace that I was barely able to return. She pulled back, hands grasping my forearms as she looked me up and down, smiling beatifically.

“Maude, it’s so nice to finally meet you. I’d like to formally welcome you to the insanity that is every single Hiddleston holiday. And pretty much every Hiddleston gathering, come to think of it.” Her hands slid down to hold mine, lifting the left one up to examine my ring. “My word, this is so unique and stunningly elegant.” She released me as she turned to Tom. “Well done, little brother. Saachi, have you said hello to Aunt Maude yet?”

Saachi shook her head, and Tom lifted her off his shoulders and placed her gently on the ground. She held out one tiny hand, looking up at my shyly. “Hello, Auntie Maude. ‘S nice to meet you.”

I leaned down and took her hand in mine, shaking very gently, terrified that I’d somehow break her. “Hi Saachi. It’s nice to meet you too.”

She paused, glancing down at my feet then back up at my face, nodding, still holding my hand. “I like your shoes. Come inside and help us decorate the tree. Grandma has lots of pretty things we have to hang today so Father Christmas will come tonight.”

And with that, I was led up the driveway by the adorable tiny human, her mother and uncle following behind me, both giggling, their arms around each other’s waists.

An incredibly handsome man with dark hair to his shoulders and nearly-black eyes was waiting in the doorway. He squatted down, hands on the knees of his jeans. “Well, my Saachi, I see you’ve brought us a new friend. Thank you.” He ruffled her hair as he stood, then extended his hand toward me. “Hello, Maude. I’m Ansh, but you likely knew that already. Lovely to meet you.”

We shook briefly, as Saachi was tugging on my other hand. “Good to meet you as well, Ansh. I’d stay and chat but I think someone has other plans…”

He laughed. “She always has some sort of plan. Gets that from her mother.”

Sarah and Tom had caught up to us, and she reached out and slugged Ansh in the shoulder. “If I didn’t always have a plan, where would you be, Ansh? Back home, that’s where. At the airport, eight hours late.”

He kissed her cheek. “You speak the truth, my love. I am grateful for your plans. Unquestionably.”

She chuckled, and they led the way into the living room. Saachi pulled me forward, and Tom took hold of my other hand. The staircase had been done up with fresh pine garland and white lights, and the tree was directly ahead, at the front-facing portion of the living/drawing room. It had white lights as well, and plastic tubs full of decorations were scattered around it, and on the closest couch as well. Diana was bent over one of the tubs, Emma was holding another and rummaging through it, and behind her was David, her fiancé. She’d shown me pictures of him on her phone, and I hadn’t thought he’d be so tall…same height as Tom, stockier build, and an honest-to-goodness genuine ginger with green eyes. He’d taken a single step toward me when Diana and Em noticed we’d arrived, both rushing ahead of David to dole out hugs. Diana reached me first, and Saachi let go of my hand in order to move out of the way, skipping over to stand at her mother’s side.

“Maude! Welcome, welcome! I’m so glad you came.” She squeezed me, then kissed my cheeks. “You look beautiful in that color. How are you? How’s your new project coming along?” Laughing and shaking her head, she released me. “You can answer over dinner…I’m sure you and Tom want to finish unloading the car and getting everything up to your room. Same as last time for you both so you have your own bath. Sarah and Ansh are in my room, Em and Dave are in Sarah’s old room, James will be in Em’s old room, and I’m in Tom’s.”

I could feel my eyes widen, remembering what havoc we’d wreaked on Tom’s bed during our last visit. “You know, we’d be just fine in Tom’s room…”

Diana grinned slyly. “No, no, it’s all right. I’ll be perfectly comfortable in the new double I had put in last week. Long overdue, truthfully. That old single had seen far better days.” She winked at me, and I tried to not die on the spot as she switched places with Em, who stared at my rapidly reddening cheeks, then giggled as she embraced me, whispering in my ear.

“Never underestimate Mum’s ability to find things out, Maude. She’s like Sherlock, but…worse.”

We released each other, my neck and chest now flushed as well. “Oh. My. God. Sooo…does EVERYONE know we broke the bed? Distant relatives? Friends from work? Random strangers? Should I start wearing a ski mask when I’m out in public?”

Em doubled over, laughing. “Oh, Maude…you are hilarious.”

Tom and Diana had separated, her attention diverted to Saachi, who was peeking out from behind Diana’s legs and waving at me. I waved back, feeling Tom’s hand come to rest on my lower back.

“What’s hilarious, Em?”

She pointed at me, trying to compose herself and failing. “Her. Ask her. I can’t.”

And with that I grabbed Tom, pulling him back toward the door. “Let’s get the rest of the stuff now, m’kay?”

As soon as we were outside he turned his head in my direction, in step with me as we headed for the car. “So, does our hasty exit have something to do with what was hilarious?”

I nodded. “Yup.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And I thought this was the part where you tell me what was…”

“Your mother knows we broke your bed.”

We’d reached the car, and he had the keys in his hand, ready to open the trunk, but promptly dropped them onto the pavement upon hearing my words. His mouth hung open, then snapped shut before he reached down to pick them up, then spoke.

“I’m sorry…what was that again?”

“Your mother. She knows. That we broke your childhood bed. While having sex.”

He leaned on the car for support. “Well fuck ME.”

I snorted. “Exactly the root of the problem.”

He shook his head, eyes wide, now standing erect, hands out to the side at shoulder level. “And to think I spent all those years managing to not get caught tossing off, yet a single visit home with you…”

“Mmm hmm. Sorry, sunshine...joke all you like, but I have no idea how I’m going to go back in there.”

He reached out a hand, which I grudgingly accepted, then pulled me into his arms. “I’ll be right there with you, by your side, your eternal partner in familial mortification. We’ll take the mickey together.”

I sighed, gazing up at him. “This isn’t ever going to go away, is it?”

“Oh, no. Never. We’ll be a hundred and fifty and they’ll still be going on about it.” His eyes closed briefly. “My mother knows I had vigorous sex in my childhood bedroom with my wife-to-be. That’s not so awful, is it? I mean, it’s obvious that we HAVE sex, is it not? We’re adults, in our thirties, we live together…one should assume…”

“And your sister. Don’t forget about your sister. And probably your other sister. And…”

“Good lord, my sisters. Get in the Jag, my love…next stop, home.”

I pulled him down to me, kissing him gently at first, then sucking his bottom lip into my mouth. He groaned when I released him.

“Maude.”

“What?”

“Now I’m sporting a raging hard-on. Lovely accompaniment to my other problem, that.”

Grinning, I took the keys from him and opened the trunk, loading myself up with bags. “Figured maybe that would give them something else to discuss besides the bed, you know?”

“Fantastic.”

“I thought so, anyway.”

He rested one hand on my shoulder and I turned to find his face an inch from mine. “My mother knows I have sex.”

I nodded. “Your mother knows you have sex with ME. We’re just going to pretend this never happened and if anyone mentions it I’m going to feign a fainting spell and you can carry me out to the car and we’ll escape. Sound like a plan?”

“Yes, but then they’re likely to think you’re pregnant…”

“Shut the fuck up, Tom.”

Laughing, he kissed my cheek and grabbed the remainder of our luggage. “Yes, ma’am. Will do."

****************************************

We shot right upstairs to our room upon re-entry, sat on the bed for a few minutes, then walked down the stairs to meet our fate. Everyone was busy decorating, and we helped hang ornaments, Saachi picking them out and instructing me where to place them. Just when I thought we were in the clear, Tom pressed against me from behind to put a fragile bauble higher up and I lost my balance, falling forward and almost taking out the eight foot spruce. He caught me by quickly wrapping one arm around my waist, but the tree was left shaking like mad.

Sarah broke the brief silence that followed in my clumsy dork wake. “Easy there, you two. Beds we’ve aplenty, but there’s only one tree.”

Everyone burst out laughing, including the man holding my sorry ass up…though he tried to disguise it, I could feel his chest vibrating against my back. I was in the middle of turning around to take a bow when the doorbell rang and the room fell silent yet again.

Diana cleared her throat and spoke, her voice bright and cheery. “Well, that’s Dad, then. I’ll see him in.”

My eyes met Tom’s, then noted him swallowing repeatedly before smiling at me. I stood at his side, our arms around each other’s waists, waiting, listening to distant voices that drew ever closer until their source came into full view. Tom’s father was around his height, strikingly handsome, hair gone completely white. I could see bits of Tom in his face, and similarities in the way he held himself. Elegant, just shy of regal. He was wearing a light blue button down shirt under a navy blazer, paired with khaki slacks and toffee brown deck shoes. His accent, though not as strong as it likely was before relocating to England, was still present, and the melodic Scottish lilt combined with the pitch of Tom’s voice reminded me of Sean Connery.

“Hello, all. Happy Christmas.”

His greeting seemed to hang in the air, creating an undercurrent of tension, awkwardness and uncertainty. No one replied, except for Saachi.

“Happy Christmas, Granddad. Your hair is very white. Mummy says we’ve met before but I don’t remember because I was a baby then and babies aren’t good at remembering.”

He went to her instantly, squatting down before her and taking her hand, then planting a kiss on the top of it.

“My, you’ve grown into a beautiful young lass, Saachi. I’m very glad to see you.”

She giggled and pulled her hand away, eyes narrowing. “Have you brought me a present?”

Sarah groaned. “Saachi, remember your manners, please.” James stood, and Sarah embraced him tentatively. “Hello, Dad. Good to see you.”

Ansh garnered a handshake, as did Dave, and Em was the recipient of a hug, which she returned with visibly shaking hands. That left Tom. And me. James closed the distance between himself and us in four striding steps. He reached out and patted Tom’s upper arm.

“Thomas. How are you, son?”

Tom returned the gesture. “Fantastic, Dad. You?”

James nodded. “Quite well, quite well.” He turned to me. “And you must be Maude.”

I faked a smile. “Lovely to meet you, Mr. Hiddleston.” When I extended my hand, he accepted and shook vigorously.

“The feeling’s mutual. And please, call me James.”

I nodded as he released me and turned to Diana. “I believe I was promised some of your famous fish and chips, Di. It’s been far too long…”

She rolled her eyes. “All battered, the fryer’s been ready for an hour, waiting on you.”

He laughed, she laughed, and the rest of just stared at each other, heads tilted like a pack of confused puppies.

Dinner was delicious, but the undercurrent of strangeness permeated the atmosphere. Desert was assorted puddings served with coffee and tea, as well as the sugar cookies Diana had baked and decorated to make me feel more at home, as it wasn’t part of their tradition. Saachi decided that from that point on, they would be. She began to doze off at nine-thirty or so as we all sat in the living room after a round of caroling, her head bobbing and finally coming to rest on Sarah’s upper arm. Ansh scooped her up, and when she woke briefly she mumbled something about presents then was out cold again. When he and Sarah came back downstairs after tucking her in, James cleared his throat and stood, moving to the center of the horseshoe of couches, hands extended, palms up as he addressed the room.

“Well then. I’d imagine you’re all wondering what in heaven’s name I’m doing here, and I aim to explain as best I can, but wanted to wait until the little one was off to bed first.” No one moved, no one spoke, and after he was certain things would remain as such, he continued. “Simply put, your mother invited me to join the family for Christmas.”

Sarah, who was seated closest to Diana, turned to her, eyes wide. “Mum. You invited him? Is he serious?”

Diana nodded. “Yes. I did. He is.” She glanced pointedly at each of her progeny in turn. “And as a favor to your Mum, I’m requesting that you please allow him to continue.” Sarah returned her gaze to James, nodding curtly along with Tom and Emma.

James cleared his throat again. “Back in August, she reached out to me and asked me over for dinner so we could discuss a few…things. She advised me of what you all had spoken about, making it clear that the reason for our divorce was no longer a matter just between the two of us. Since then, we’ve been talking frequently. About the past, mainly, but also about the future. And we’ve…well, we’ve become rather decent friends.”

It was Emma’s turn for an outburst. “Friends? Surely you’re joking. Or I’m dreaming, or I’m in some parallel universe. Friends? Mum? Have you both lost your minds?”

Diana laughed. “Sometimes I wonder, love. But yes. We’ve spent a good bit of time going over everything, from the moment we met until we divorced, trying to figure it all out, what went wrong, the why of it, and…it just seemed it was something we needed to do, once and for all, I suppose.”

Sarah shook her head, eyes on Diana, left index finger pointing at James. “After everything he’s done…you’ve FORGIVEN him?” Her voice was raw, full of emotion she was struggling to contain.

Diana shook her head as well. “Sarah, it isn’t always about forgiveness. Sometimes it’s about closure. And acceptance.”

James nodded, his expression grim. “I would never, ever expect your mother to forgive me for my actions. They were unconscionable. Indefensible. Deplorable. Nor would I expect any of you to forgive them. That’s not why I’m standing before you. I’m here to apologize, though I understand that such a thing is likely too little and too late. But I’m doing it anyway. Sarah and Emily, I’m sorry you lived your lives without me when you needed a father most, though perhaps you were better off, and I’m sorry you were left wondering what went wrong between your mother and me. It was wrong, of both of us, to deny you your own closure, to not tell you the truth. And Tom…the way you found out what I’d been doing, that you carried that with you for so long, a burden so heavy, all on your own…and that you thought at some point you were to blame for the divorce…I…” He cleared his throat, overcome with emotion he likely didn’t want to display. “The three of you deserved better. Your mother deserved better. Over the past few years, as I’ve begun to not recognize the old man I see in the mirror every morning because he can’t possibly be ME…I started to view the past with new eyes. I can see my selfishness, the pain I’ve caused, the destruction I’ve wrought. I’ve lain awake many a night wishing I could go back and change it. But I can’t. And that’s the worst of it. I can’t take it back, I can’t make it disappear. And I’m not going to make excuses for myself, but I feel that I need to be honest, for a change…my first marriage ended, but the hurt…didn’t. And that was not something a man like me admits, especially to himself. So I told myself that love was useless, that it was pointless frivolity. And I believed it, like a religion. From that point forward, that’s how I lived my life. I liked, respected and enjoyed your mother, but I wouldn’t allow myself to become emotionally attached. Same thing with all of you. I focused on my career, and I permitted myself to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh, but love…that had left me betrayed and broken, and I maintained a firm, albeit foolish, resolve that I was never going to let that happen again.”

Again, silence fell over the room.

“So. Here we are. I suppose the point of what I said there is that what I’ve learned is that allowing your past to walk with you in the present does irreparable harm to the future, and not only yours, but that of those around you. As I said, I expect no forgiveness from you. I’m unworthy of it. But I came, because…because I wanted to tell you, in person, that you three, my children, you are all intelligent, talented, loving, caring people. And I am grateful for that now, each and every day. And I thank your mother for doing all the work of raising you, for being there for you, and teaching you how life should properly be lived. It’s not about money, it’s not about success, it’s not about power…it’s about the connections you form with the people around you. It doesn’t matter so much when you’re young and you have, seemingly, nothing but time…but when you get to be my age, time is short, and you look back and see all you missed, all you wasted…” He paused, inhaling deeply before continuing. “And now, all of you have your own connections, love in your lives. I’m grateful for that too. And I know it’s far too much to ask of you, after everything, but I shall do so anyway as your mother said I should, but if you would allow me to participate in events such as this, and, perhaps, eventually, to get to know you again, to learn all the things I should already know…well, I would welcome the opportunity. Very much so.”

And with that, he sat back down, arms crossed in front of him. What he’d said about the past walking with you in the present struck a chord with me, and I focused on that for the moment. It was still completely quiet, Tom’s hand now in mine, his eyes fixed on the floor, jaw clenched. Diana rose from her spot.

“Well, what say we put presents under the tree?”

Sarah got up so quickly that Ansh jumped, startled. “Great idea, Mum.”

And then, as so many families do, we simply carried on as if none of it had ever happened.

****************************************

Sarah and Ansh said goodnight first, reminding us that Sacchi would likely be up at a ridiculously early hour, which led to a mass exodus toward the second floor. There were hugs all around, but for James hanging back, and good tidings shared. After closing the door behind us, Tom half-jogged to the bed, sat down and rested his head in his hands. I walked to sit at his side, placing one hand on his lower back, then slowly circling, hoping to soothe.

“Maude. Did…I just…I really don’t know what to DO with all of this. I’m not even sure what I heard. This is…it’s…”

“Don’t put any pressure on yourself to do something right now. Take your time. Process it.” I snorted. “Said the woman who took an eternity to come to terms with her own familial bullshit.”

He lifted his head, a tiny smile upon his lips. “I adore you.”

“Of course you do.” I reached out with my free hand and cupped his chin, thumb gently stroking his stubbly cheek. “In all seriousness, though…how can I help? Do you need to vent? Rant?”

His head shook back and forth. “Not sure what I’d rant or vent about…too confused, because I just received an apology that I never saw coming nor ever imagined getting. I truly believed it would be about you, his reason for being here. But I think that might have been because of my own fear, that my father wouldn’t like you, that he wouldn’t approve of you, and it makes me sick to think that after all he’s done and all this time, that deep down, his opinion matters to me and I still crave his approval and his respect and his blessing and…and…” His voice broke as he began to sob. “And…and…his…lo…love.”

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him to my chest, and he wept upon my shoulder, uncontrollably, struggling to silence himself but unable to do so completely. Every time a gasp or muted wail escaped him I had to rein in a wince, as it reminded me of how both he had broken down in our hotel room in New Orleans and how I’d done the same at my mother’s house. This time, at least, I was fully present and able to offer him comfort. He clung to me as I stroked the back of his head and rocked him, and as he began to calm I whispered in his ear.

“I’m here. It’s okay, baby. I know. I know how it hurts. I understand. I love you.”

My sentiments were repeated until he spoke, his face buried in the crook of my neck. His voice was ragged, but soft. “Thank you. I’m sorry. I love you too.”

Just as I opened my mouth to say for what seemed like the millionth time that he need not apologize I felt his own mouth open, teeth sinking into my flesh, lips pressing, followed by suction so powerful it made my toes curl.

“Well hello there, Hiddleston. Damn. This is…unexpected. But please, do continue.”

He growled, fumbling with the hem of my sweater, working his hand inside to caress my left breast through the satin of my bra. Right after he began to pinch my hardened nipple, he pulled away from me, yanking his own sweater off over his head and blowing his nose in it. The snarky comment on my lips was suppressed by his tongue thrusting into my mouth as he guided me into a standing position. I bit down on it and he moaned, hips jutting forward and grinding against me. The kissing continued, sloppy and wet, a long string of saliva still connecting us when we finally came up for air and attempted to separate. Neither of us said a word, the only sound in the room the discordant noise of us removing our shoes and stripping off our clothes as quickly as humanly possible, flinging them everywhere. I looked away from my bra hooks for a moment to find him watching me, pupils blown, jaw clenched. My nether region did some clenching of its own as I completed the task at hand, spun the bra around on my index finger, then let it fly through the air to land on the dresser top. He remained where he was, and I strode toward him, biting my lip as I noticed his cock twitch. Leaning forward when I reached him, I blew on his chest hairs, the initial shiver intensifying as my tongue snaked out and circled his right nipple, then his left. When I added teeth, he pushed me up and off him, then walked me backwards to the bed. His voice was dripping with desire when he spoke, as was his cock.

“Hands and knees for me? On the bed?”

I nodded, mouth agape, panting at the thought of him taking me from behind. While there wasn’t a single position I didn’t like, doggy style was one of my favorites. Just a flash of what it always felt like, his hips slapping against my ass, was enough to cause a rush of wetness that began to trickle down my thighs. I turned and clambered onto the bed, scooting up far enough so he had room to join me, wiggling my own hips suggestively and peeking over my shoulder back at him. He was on me in a heartbeat, pulling my cheeks apart, one nimble finger dipping into me, then pulling out to circle my clit.

“The view from back here, woman. I wish you could see it, see yourself spread wide…open and ready. Ready for me. For my cock. Are you ready for my cock, Maude?”

I whimpered, quietly, I thought, but he heard me anyway.

“Oh, I’m of a mind that you’re MORE than ready.” The head nudged my entrance. “Are you? More than ready? Have you reached the point of desperation? Is it driving you mad, feeling me so close but not where you need me to be most?”

With that I slammed backwards, taking him all in, and the sound he made was half scream, half moan and entirely too loud. He grabbed my hips and began thrusting, hard, fast, and grunting with every single re-entry. I felt his fingers intertwine with my hair, then tugging on it gently but firmly and holding my head in place. He slowed, regaining some semblance of control, which I snatched away by rolling my pelvis and pushing back against him, parrying his thrusts. The hand that had been in my hair disappeared and his arm wrapped around my chest, pulling me up and back, until my ass was resting on his thighs, my knees bent and spread wide, feet resting on either side of him. He ran his tongue up and down the back of my neck as he began to massage my clit, and I squealed. His response was a whisper, and his hot breath on my ear making me clench around him.

“Ride. Me.”

“Yep. Sounds good. Will do.”

I lifted myself off his cock slowly, then sank back down, then again, and again and again, my tempo increasing with each instance as I drew closer to orgasm. As it began he propelled us both forward again, me coming to rest on my elbows with my cheek pressed to the bed, him on top of me, body covering me like a blanket, holding himself up with one arm at first so he could continue playing with my clit, then shifting as the need for additional support arose when he came, hips jerking erratically, mouth open and lips on my shoulder, moaning and whimpering as he spent himself inside me, my walls squeezing and pulsing, leaving me without words, or thoughts, feeling nothing but the pleasure in that moment.

We remained as we were until our panting returned to simply breathing, his chin resting on my shoulder. Tom regained the power of speech first, which was not a single bit surprising.

“Sorry if the timing of that appears questionable. I just…I…”

I pushed myself up on my hands, and he lifted himself off me and rolled us over. I pulled away from him, his cock slipping out of me as I did so, then rolled again to face him, index finger tracing the line of his jaw.

“No need to say it. I understand what you ‘just’.” And I did, absolutely. Receiving comfort, wanting to lose your pain in pleasure, the desire for closeness, fulfilling that desire via the act that brings you as physically close to another human as you can possibly be, reminding yourself of what’s good, affirming that you love and are loved.

He reached out to bring me closer, and I buried my face in his neck, and he buried his in my hair, stroking my back as he murmured how much he loved me and I did the same. It seemed like we’d just fallen asleep when we heard Saachi screaming excitedly out in the hallway.

“It’s morning! It’s morning! Father Christmas came! And he left presents! PRESENTS FOR ME!”

Tom and I donned our pajamas and robes, which I’d made sure to bring when he informed me that no one in the Hiddleston house dressed on Christmas day until it was time for dinner, which was actually lunch. No official breakfast, either, just chocolates and sweets and fruit and caffeinated beverages, which sounded acceptable to me. As we descended the stairs the smell of roasting turkey hit my nostrils and my stomach growled loudly. Tom snickered, and I punched him in the arm.

“It’s like, not even 6 AM yet, dude. How long has your mother been up?”

Diana’s voice sounded from below. “Birds went in the oven at 4:30.” She came into view as we reached the bottom few steps, standing in the living room doorway, wearing a Christmas apron over a fluffy green robe. “This lot is not exactly patient when it comes to food, sad to say. Happy Christmas, Maude. And you too, son of mine. Treats are all laid out…grab a handful and come on in and see what Father Christmas brought for our darling girl. Or our tiny whirling dervish, which is more fitting for today.”

We were the last ones down, everyone else seated either on one of the couches or on the floor, all pajama-clad. A group shout of ‘Happy Christmas’ ensued, and I felt like I was starring in the British version of A Christmas Story, which was amusing until I realized that I was the prime candidate for pulling a Ralphie and saying fuck. Tom and I sat on the couch facing the fireplace, next to Dave and Emma. Sarah and Ansh were on the floor, helping Saachi with her gifts, among which were puzzles, books, various stuffed creatures, and an iPad. Sarah noticed me staring at it, not realizing it was with awe.

“I know, I know…we’re going to limit screen time, but we just think there’s so much for her to learn…”

I blinked, slowly comprehending what her comment meant. “Oh, sorry, Sarah…not why I was gawking. I just really, really love the design of Apple stuff. It’s like high art…flawless, seamless, feels as if it’s an extension of you when you hold it.” Tom chuckled, and I elbowed him in the ribs. “The kid stuff…no clue. But I guess I need to GET a clue.”

Emma shrieked. “OH MY GOD, MAUDE, ARE YOU PREGNANT?”

My brain short-circuited, and I realized Tom hadn’t been kidding about them thinking that if I fainted, and he graciously jumped in to do damage control.

“Christ, Em. It’s too early for that decibel level. No, she’s not.” He turned to me, silently asking if I thought it acceptable to discuss our plans. Though it made me incredibly nervous, it being said out loud, and the fact that it would now be obvious if we weren’t successful, it was my own carelessness that had opened this particular can of worms, so I nodded for him to continue. “Or I should say, not yet. We’re going to start trying soon, once I’m done filming, most likely.”

Within seconds I found myself being hugged and kissed by all of them in succession, with the exception of James, who simply said ‘jolly news’ but remained seated, drinking a glass of milk. Saachi rescued me by stating that all her Father Christmas gifts had been opened and now it was time to see what we’d all gotten for her. Tom went to the tree to retrieve our gifts, and she followed him back to the couch and climbed into his lap, tearing open the first one before she was fully seated. It was a giraffe-printed T-shirt with a cartoon giraffe on the front, munching on some leaves.

“Oh, a giraffe! Look, Mummy!” She held the shirt up. “It’s beautiful!”

Next came matching pants, sweatshirt, and sneakers. Tom saved the best for last, and when she removed the paper and saw a plain cardboard box she gazed up at him. “I do like boxes very much, Uncle Tommy. Thank you.”

The room erupted in laughter, and I reached out to help her open it. When she saw what was inside she gasped, reached inside and pulled out the eighteen-inch high plush giraffe I’d found for her. Unlike most, its proportions were correct, which she noticed immediately. “Oh, he’s just like a REAL giraffe.” She turned to her parents. “I have my very own real-like giraffe. His name is Charlie, and we’re going to be best friends.” Snuggling him to her chest, which was adorable because he was so giant, she turned back to me. “Thank you, Auntie Maude. I love you now.” And with that, she hopped off Tom’s lap and onto mine, hugging me tightly, Charlie between us. As I returned the embrace, the fragility of her, the smallness, this little person, putting her trust in me was incredibly overwhelming and I found myself both struggling not to cry and beaming like an idiot.

She left me soon after when Ansh said her iPad was ready to use, and the rest of us began to open our presents. There was no rhyme or reason to it, other than Diana matching gifts with each individual and piling them nearby. Tom and I were lost in our own little world, choosing to open our presents to each other before ones from family. He insisted that I go first, and I argued, but he smiled that smile and I had no choice but to give in.

The first was a team Jersey, navy blue, and I wondered if he’d lost his fucking mind until I unfolded it and saw my name on the front left breast in white, with the number 31 smack in the center. The back was the same, but across the top over the number was ‘TEAM HIDDLESTON’. I stared at him, and he grinned.

“That’s your team jersey. We’ve all got one. The number is…”

“My birthday.”

He nodded. “Yes. Your birthday.”

“All the swear words.”

His head tilted. “What?”

I raised my left hand, palm towards him. “That’s me using profanity without using profanity.”

“Oh, I like that. Here, do this one next.” He handed me large, flat object, heavier than I expected. I removed the wrapping, and realized it was a frame. Inside was a poster. A movie poster. The Matrix. One of my very favorite films. And when I finally really LOOKED at it, I noticed that there were signatures. Three of them. Keanu Reeves, Carrie-Anne Moss, and Laurence Fishburne.

“Thomas. Are these real? They can’t be real. Are they REAL?”

He nodded again, chuckling and licking his lips.

“ALL THE SWEAR WORDS TIMES A MILLION. How did you…my god, this is AMAZING. You are amazing. Thank you. Wow. I cannot EVEN.”

There was one more for me, a small item, the size and shape of a CD case. I peeled back the paper, and there I was, mid-song, from Hawaii karaoke. Down at the bottom was my name, with the words ‘Back to Black’ under it, and a logo. Skrillex. My mouth dropped open. “Dude. What. Is. This.”

“That’s you. From Kauai, doing Back to Black. Remastered by Skrillex. If you’ll look at the back you’ll see he did a remix for you as well.”

“NO HE DID NOT.”

Tom laughed. “Oh yes he did. Shall we listen to it now?”

I threw my arms around him. “Hiddleston, you are so thoughtful and kind and sweet and I love you, you bastard.” He hugged me back, and I pulled away. “But no, we’ll listen to it later. You have to open your stuff now. Plus I don’t think I want present company to hear me singing about a dude keeping his dick wet.”

“Excellent point. In addition, your voice does things to me…”

“Yes. Duly noted. Later. Anyway. Open the giant box first.”

I’d put all the Jurassic Park toys inside a single box, because I felt if he saw one it would be like he’d seen them all and let’s face it, there’s nothing quite like a box full of toys just waiting for you to love them. He peeled back the paper, popped the tape, lifted the flaps and the expression he wore when he realized what was inside filled me with such joy I thought I’d burst. He turned to me in disbelief.

“How did you…where did you…are these really…” He removed the electronic T-Rex from the box. “IT IS. ORIGINAL.” The rest followed suit quickly, and he placed them gently on the floor after giving them the once-over, alternating between grinning, giggling, and shaking his head. “Maude. It’s like I’m a kid again. On Christmas. This is incredible. Thank you.” With that, he kissed me, and it went on long enough for Sarah to feel the need to tell us to get a room already.

We laughed, blushing, and I decided to fess up. “I can’t take all the credit, you know. Your mom made me a list of what she could remember you having. All I did was find the stuff on eBay.”

He pinched my cheek. “Yes, but you’re the one who thought to do it.” He glanced at Diana. “Thanks, Mum. You’re becoming a regular Sneaky Pete, aren’t you?” She nodded, and I pointed to the other box, smaller than the first.

“Dude, open it. I can’t stand waiting another second.”

Of course he removed the paper at a snail’s pace just to torture me, and then pretended to not know how to get the lid off properly. His face lit up like a thousand suns when he saw the fedora.

“My very own Indiana Jones fedora. I hope you realize I’m going to where this everywhere we go forever and ever from this day forward.” As he lifted it out of the box with the intent of putting it on, I figured I should draw his attention to what he was actually holding. I reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“You might want to take a gander at the inside before you wear it.”

His puzzled gaze met my mildly impatient one, and he flipped it over.

“My god. Oh my god. OH. MY. GOD.” He stood, hat in his hand, his last comment so loud that everyone was staring at him. Emma snorted.

“Tom. It’s a hat. It’s lovely. Pipe down, won’t you?”

Tom shook his head. “It’s not just a hat. It’s a fedora signed by Harrison Ford. Indiana Jones.”

I tugged on his robe but he didn’t notice, so I stood, pausing to pull out a framed letter I’d hidden under extra tissue paper in the bottom of the box. He read it quickly, and when I saw his Adam’s apple bob I knew he was holding back a sob. A deep breath followed, then he spoke.

“It’s a note from Harrison. It says ‘Tom – Steve told me how much Indy means to you, but what really sold me was the story from your fiancée about you cutting off your sister’s braid and using it as a bullwhip. Here’s a hat. Wore it for the Last Crusade. You do good work, kid. Keep it up and you might be able to buy a real, actual bullwhip someday. – Harrison’.”

He sat back down, hat in one hand, frame in the other, staring at them both as his siblings and their significant others came over to get a better look. I sat as well, and as I did so he looked up at me.

“You did this. For me. How? How did you pull this off? I would have never expected this, for him to send one of the fedoras he actually wore. I…my god…my mind. So completely, utterly blown.”

I grinned. “I am tenacious and don’t take no for an answer.” He laughed. “Actually, I had lots of help. Friend here, client there, Steven Spielberg, and here we are. You like it, then?”

“It’s the best present…and it has a deeper meaning than me just being a huge fan, because of how we met, and what I said, and…I love you.”

My grin widened and I patted him on the shoulder. “I know.”

He roared, catching on to my Star Wars reference, and I joined in, Saachi finally looking up from her iPad to comment.

“I want a funny hat next year, please.”

Everyone laughed at that, and once the giddiness wore off it was back to the matter at hand. We’d gotten Diana a set of eight mugs, two tote bags and four T-shirts with her art printed on them, which she marveled at and said she finally felt like she might actually be a genuine artist. For Em and Dave we’d purchased a couples spa weekend, and for Sarah and Ansh we’d arranged for a date night out to see a show and spend the night at a five-star hotel in London, grandma set as the babysitter.

Diana put together a beautiful photo album that included pictures of Tom as a child, as well as other family shots for us, and she’d done a painting on canvas of Tom and I on the red carpet at the Cube gallery. And, as predicted, there was my Christmas sweater, bright blue with snowmen on the front. It was actually kind of cute, and I thought it might even be fun to put it on our first married people Christmas cards next year. Then I shook my head and decided I was going insane and that I needed some more tea immediately. Before I had a chance to get up go grab it, Diana handed me a thick greeting card envelope.

“Here, love. This one’s from me, Emma and Sarah. Technically for you and Tom, but mainly for you.”

I opened it slowly, reading the brochure and the open-ended tickets and where to call to book dates, not quite understanding what I was looking at straight away. It was something I’d never thought of, never would have thought of on my own, but wished I had and was grateful someone else had done it for me. They’d arranged for a week-long vacation for us at the Fitzpatrick Castle Hotel. Which was in Ireland. In Dalkey, Ireland, to be exact. Where my father had been born and lived until he met my mother and moved to the US. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t speak. The idea of seeing where he’d grown up, walking the streets he’d walked, visiting the bar his family owned…MY family owned? I didn’t know. He’d cut all ties with them, likely at my mother’s insistence, and that’s all I knew. Did he have siblings? Were his parents still alive? He never spoke of family, not once that I could recall. I’d been so angry, so hurt, that it never occurred to me that they could be out there somewhere in the world. And that they were my family, too. Which led me to the next step…what of my mother’s family? They knew there was a child, that I existed, both sides, but did they know it was…me?  Suddenly, and much to my surprise, I felt compelled to find out.

Diana was standing in front of me still, her face full of concern as I looked up at her.

“Maude, if that was too forward of us, I’m terribly sorry…we just thought you might want to, since you’re close by now…”

I passed the papers to Tom, who had been reading them over my shoulder, stood, and wrapped my arms around Diana, a muted ‘thank you’ spilling from my lips before I began to weep. Sarah and Emma made it a group hug, and I realized that while it would be wonderful to have my questions answered, it would be icing on the cake, as they say, because I’d already been blessed with a family, the people right there in that room, who had opened their lives and their hearts to me, because I loved their brother, their son, and he loved me. And what a miracle that was, especially on a day made for such things.

[thegreenwolf]

Hi, folks! Sorry for the radio silence; my head hasn’t been in pagan space much lately so I’ve been dealing with a bit of writer’s block in that direction. I’m starting to come out of it a bit, though, and I have a few ideas, this being the first one.

Most essential reading lists for pagans tend to be pagan-specific books, or books that deal with related topics like the history of pre-Christian religions or herbalism. My list is perhaps a little more removed from blatant paganism than that, and might be better termed “Lupa’s Essential Books For Nature-Based Pagans”. Moreover, it’s a list that will likely change over time. But they’re texts I think all pagans would benefit from reading for one reason or another.

The Nature Principle by Richard Louv

Many people, not just pagans, are attracted to nature. But why? In his follow-up to his award-winning Last Child in the Woods, Louv looks at not only why nature is good for us, but concrete ways in which we can reconnect with the natural world, even in urban areas, as a way to combat nature-deficit disorder. (See also Florence Williams' The Nature Fix as a more up-to-date collection of nature-is-good-for-us research for laypeople.)

A Beginner's Guide to the Scientific Method by Stephen S. Carey

Paganism often flirts heavily with pseudoscience, sometimes to dangerous degrees. Everyone should have a solid understanding of the scientific method, to include how a good experiment is put together (as well as how not to conduct research), and how to avoid pitfalls like confirmation bias. Not only will this help you to cut through some of the crap that gets presented as fact within paganism, but it will help you have a more critical eye toward sensational news headlines claiming new cures for cancer or demonizing vaccinations. If you can pick apart a study based on things like sample size and the validity of the results, you're already way ahead of most of the population.

The Ancestor's Tale by Richard Dawkins

Okay, put the fact that it's Dawkins aside; this is one of those texts where he's focusing on communicating science instead of tearing religion apart, and he's frankly at his best here. Now, evolution is up there with gravity and a round earth as far as things we know to be true, and hopefully you already have a basic understanding of how it works: It is not survival of the fittest so much as survival of those who fit into the ecosystem most effectively. What this book does is cleverly place us, Homo sapiens, in the context of the grand dance of evolution by tracing on possible path we may have taken all the way back to the last universal ancestor that all living beings on the planet share. Along the way we get to see the origins of everything from our big brains to our opposable thumbs and upright bipedal walking, showing us that we are not the most amazing and superior being that the gods ever created, but rather one among many incredible and diverse life forms that evolution has produced through natural selection and mutation. It is, in fact, the ultimate journey on this planet.

Also, the Walking With Dinosaurs/Beasts/Monsters/Cavemen BBC documentaries are fun, if a bit flawed and dated, ways to look at how evolution has shaped animals over millions of years.

Roadside Geology series by various authors

If you're in the United States, there's a Roadside Geology book for your state! You may not think much about the ground beneath your feet other than as a nice, solid base, but the various stones and formations, as well as hydrological phenomena like rivers and lakes, are all crucial to the sort of life that can thrive in a given place. The Roadside Geology books are a fun way to go look at your local geology in person and learn a little about the land you live on. You can then follow up by picking up some more in-depth reading material for the geology of your area.

Botany of Desire: A Plant's-Eye View of the World by Michael Pollan

We often assume that plants are relatively sedentary beings with few motivations. Yet they are vibrant and active parts of their ecosystems in ways even we animals can't touch. This book looks at the world of plants through the relationships four of them have with humans, how we have changed them--and how they have changed us. I also strongly recommend following this up with two documentaries: How to Grow a Planet by Iain Stewart (which also happens to be on Netflix as of this writing) and David Attenborough's The Private Life of Plants (which is also in book form.)

Trees, Truffles and Beasts: How Forests Function by Chris Maser, Andrew Claridge and James Trappe

In paganism we tend to look at animals, plants and other beings individually, as stand-alone guides---yet if we want inspiration for just how interconnected we are, there's no better model than an ecosystem. This book explores how just a few of the animal, plant and fungus inhabitants of forests are inextricably bound together. Extrapolate that out to the entire ecosystem, and you begin to see how deeply entwined all beings are in a very real, even visceral sense. If you've only been working with animal or plant spirits, this book may just inspire you to reach out further.

The Earth Moved: On the Remarkable Achievements of Earthworms by Amy Stewart

Again in paganism people tend to be fairly short-sighted when it comes to animals. We often look at the most impressive mammals and birds, and then only at the most surface qualities, gleaning what we can for ourselves and our spiritual needs. In order to step out of this self-centered approach to nature spirituality, we need to really appreciate beings for themselves in all their complexity, and what better starting point than the amazing and completely indispensable earthworm? This is a really fun read, but you'll learn a lot along the way, too--and maybe start treating the soil in your yard a little better, too!

There are lots of other books that explore individual species in depth, like Bernd Heinrich's The Mind of the Raven and Of Wolves and Men by Barry Holstun Lopez, but I really recommend you start with the often-overlooked earthworms before moving on to stereotypically charismatic critters like ravens and wolves.

Coming Back to Life: The Updated Guide to the Work That Reconnects by Joanna Macy and Molly Brown Young

One of the disadvantages of pagans reading only books by pagans about paganism is that we miss out on other awesome and relevant works by people who aren't expressly pagan. Joanna Macy is one of those authors that more pagans really need to know about, especially those who construct group rituals. This is an entire book full of rites for reconnecting to nature and to each other, as well as grieving for global losses and fostering gratitude and hope for a better future. If that doesn't sound like something more pagans could get behind, I don't know what does. Just because it doesn't mention any deities doesn't mean that it's useless.

Nature and the Human Soul: Cultivating Wholeness and Community in a Fragmented World by Bill Plotkin

This is another one of those "pagan but not" books. I've explored this book in more detail in the past, but my opinion still stands: it is a much better alternative to Maiden, Mother, Crone and Youth, Warrior, Sage. It's based in a developmental approach to ecopsychology (or an ecopsychological approach to developmental psychology?) Growth is not based on your physical age or whether you're capable of popping out babies; rather, Plotkin's eight-stage Wheel looks at your journey as a person and your continuing relationship with your community and ecosystem to determine where you are developmentally. You can even be in more than one stage at once! It's a much more well-rounded way to apply a label to yourself, if you must, and I recommend it for anyone who is sick of the gender-limiting stereotypes of MMC/YWS.

(Honorable mention to Lasara Firefox's Jailbreaking the Goddess as another alternative to MMC for women.)

Drawdown: The Most Comprehensive Plan Ever Proposed to Reverse Global Warming by Paul Hawken

If you love nature and honor it and you really want to do something to make up for the damage we've done to the planet, there's nothing much more effective than working to reverse climate change. I mean, really, it's a much better offering to nature spirits than pouting food and drink on the ground, or sending a vague ball of energy to wrap around the planet to do....what? What's even more noteworthy about this book is that it's an excellent antidote to the hopelessness and fear that a lot of people feel about climate change. In it you're going to read about people who are already boots on the ground making a difference, to include in the very industries that are causing the most problems. And it ranks the top 100 causes of climate change (you can see this on their website, too.) Pick one of these causes to start working on, with whatever time and other resources you reasonably have available, and not only are you giving something back to nature, but you're also counteracting the paralysis that pessimism breeds.

So there you have it: my current essential reading list for pagans. Sorry I'm not handing you yet another rehash of the Wiccan Sabbats or a bunch of spells. Over the past few years my paganism has become much more firmly rooted in the physical, and my reading list reflects that. After all, what good is a nature-based path if you don't know diddly about nature itself?

[2019dclmed]

Embarkation Day!

Embarkation Day - Saturday, May 25, 2019

Hola Disney Magic!

The alarms went off promptly at 7:30am. It wasn’t great sleep, but we each felt a bit better. Since we were already dressed (in the only clothes we had), we returned the adapters and requested a taxi. There was some miscommunication with the taxi initially, but we arrived back at BCN right around 9am, when the make-or-break flight was to be landing. 

Kara: A note here on Barcelona taxis.  The drivers are all extremely pleasant and helpful.  They load and unload bags without hesitation.  I was really impressed with how convenient and comfortable I felt.  Again, having not traveled much internationally, taxi drivers often create my first impression of any city I visit and Barcelona’s were a pleasure.

We went to the baggage carousel, as we didn’t know if they would arrive normally or be pulled for the office due to our inquiry (if they arrived at all). It felt like forever, as so many similar bags spilled out - none of them ours. 

Then finally Kara thought she spotted mine. As she went to check, I spotted hers! Happy tears and relieved hugs for everyone! 

Right in the middle of baggage claim we flung open our bags, found clothes for embarkation (as it had turned rainy, cool, & windy) and our toiletry bags. We changed in the nearby bathroom and did what we could with make-up on the awaiting benches. We stowed our dinner clothes in our carry-ons (as you often don’t get your checked bags delivered to your stateroom until very near or during Main Dining time). We left for the port by 10:45am and arrived at the port just past 11am! Plenty of people had already checked in and our small Platinum line went fairly quickly. (At this point, we didn’t care! We were there with all our things!) 

Kara: This is my first time in the Platinum line on my own!  YAY!!!!

We got our requested dining table for 2 and dining rotation, even though the request was added just 4 days ago. (We know we put this in during New Year’s, but I discovered by near accident the note had been deleted in the Disney Cruise Line system.) We also reviewed the Welcome Aboard paper Personal Navigator to learn they were not doing the “double evening show” schedule like last season and note the changes for us personally.

Kara: Gayle does a LOT of planning to figure out the ideal dining rotation, including Palo and then to put in those requests for a table on our own.  While I know some people go onto cruises to meet other people, that’s not me.  As Brene Brown says in her Netflix special, “I love humanity - I’m only so-so on people.”  So, when Gayle says we got our requested dining rotation, I have to give her Kudos because LARLARL with Palo on the first day at Sea was absolutely perfect.

Boarding began 11:30/11:45am, which was a bit surprising since they were just coming off the Transatlantic sailing. We skipped the embarkation photo and were the first ones to arrive on the left side of Cabanas for lunch. AHHH!!! Finally, having good food and taking deep breaths, we let all the stress bleed-off. 

I wrote most of this in Cove Cafe awaiting our room to be ready. It stayed chilly, cloudy, with spotted rain, so at this point we weren’t sure our shorts would ever see the light of day. (Note I packed 3 pair of shorts & only 2 pair of jeans….)

Kara: I tried to do a little writing in Cove Cafe but even with a Cafe Mocha in me, I dozed off.  Pretty sure this was the first unflattering photo she took of me sleeping.  What can I say, it’s what Monroe’s do when we sit down.  We do something or we sleep.

At promptly 1:30pm we headed to our stateroom (#6644) on the Disney Magic. 

We were greeted by our stateroom host and soon informed a brand new sofa bed with fold-down top-bunk had just been installed earlier that day. (Traditionally, the top bunks come down from the ceiling or fold down from the wall. This one was free-standing, mounted to the wall. It took up about another 8” of the room, but shows Disney Cruise Line is working to keep accommodating larger families. This room would usually max at 3 guests, but could now welcome 4.) 

A fruit basket was already in the room. We didn’t know why and thought perhaps it was our Platinum Castaway Club loyalty gift, even though they usually give you a choice for that. (More on this mystery later.) 

The 24 bottles of water (Evian!) Kara ordered were already unpackaged in the room as well. (We agreed with all our Port Adventures trying to keep our Contegos filled with the Deck 9 drink station wouldn’t suffice.)

The TV remote was dead, but was immediately replaced by our stateroom host, Suartana (Tana). We also took time to get more familiar with the Disney Cruise Line App that recently got a significant update, along with the new on-demand TV options. (FYI you could ask for paper Navigator’s at Guest Services, but it’s obvious they are all but dead in that format.) And FYI in case anyone needs a look at the current outlets at the desk:

They also now provide a heat pad to protect the desk from curling irons, flat irons, etc. Nice!

Soon Room Service called asking which option we wanted for the Platinum Castaway Club gift - cheese platter, fruit basket, or box of chocolate truffles. Of course I asked for the truffles, but not to deliver until final Day at Sea, (as we now consume them on the way home). Note I didn't even pause to ask Kara’s opinion since this was her first Platinum cruise. Whoops. So then what is this fruit basket for? We still didn’t know. My only guess was a special request from a new work acquaintance? 

We arrived to the Muster Drill early to ensure we got seats. So this gave us time to snap some pics of a few updated decor items outside Animator’s Palate.

Due to the weather and having listened to the new “Sail-A-Wave” boarding party, we skipped it. (It seems more family/kid focused and less adult than the previous iteration.)

Kara’s check bag arrived soon, so she unpacked, while I unpacked my carry-on as I awaited my checked bag. We changed clothes for dinner. My bag arrived just prior to dinner. For the first time ever we did Main (6pm on this sailing) Dining, due primarily to all the early call Port Adventures we’d have later in the week. Tonight we met our Head Server Munir, Server Anwil (India), & Assistant Server, Joe (Thailand).

Our rotation started in Lumiere’s, so I got my usual chilled appetizer of shrimp & lobster and an entree of salmon (instead of the lobster pasta). The salmon was meh. Kara got the Farmhouse Salad and steak. I kicked off the cruise with my customary two Grand Marnier Soufflés (with a bit of an upset tummy later) and Kara had the apple tartan. 

Near the end of dinner Officer Zoe (England) stopped by to introduce herself and mentioned the card in our stateroom (that came with the fruit basket). When I asked her about it, she responded it is due to the fact we are on the VIP List for this cruise. EXCUSE ME, WHAT?! Zoe said she would be checking in with us each night and to just call her direct number if we needed anything. (Zoe is the assistant to the Hotel Director, Lisa, who oversees all of the stateroom and dining sections of the ship.)

The shops were packed and our initial perusal indicated nothing to be excited about. Sad. We also stopped by the piano bar, Keys, and were unimpressed with the lounge entertainment.

We decided to skip the 8:45pm “Welcome Aboard” stage show that we’d seen plenty of times and instead went back to the stateroom to unpack. At some point we also discovered part of our VIP status meant we also had slippers and the most amazing DIsney Cruise Line robes in our stateroom! (FYI you can purchase these robes, but they are outrageously expensive. Sad.) By 9pm our eyelids were falling shut, which was understandable based on the prior two days! 

Disclaimer: Gayle is a travel agent with Authorized Disney Travel Planner agency - Off to Neverland Travel. Contact me today for a no-obligation quote!

Next up: Day at Sea